The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a grunginess that permeates the town from the graffiti on the once cleaned brick buildings to the broken and unmaintained architecture. Crime runs high within the western half of town, making it the home of supernatural gangs of illicit activities. Such activities are rarely reported, however, and most residents are distrustful of individual's of authorities, and often let the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.
Cull & Pistol
Just like any city - Sacrosanct is not without it's deep, dark underbelly. Hidden in the graffiti-ridden streets of the West, behind closed warehouse doors, lies the Black Market. Forever moving, it's nearly impossible to find without knowing someone who knows someone. Anything you desire can be brought for a hefty price within the Black Market - be it drugs, weapons, or lives.
Hidden within the dark alleyways of the Western Ward, Cull & Pistol is a dim, often smoky bar. With a small variety of bottled and craft beers, Cull & Pistol is a quaint little neighborhood joint. With its no-frills moto, the dingy bar offers little more than liquor, music from an old jukebox, and a few frequently occupied pool tables.
Bartender Raylin Chike
Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark (known simply as The Ark) is a sleek superyacht known both for its fight rings and recent...renovations, of sorts. Accessible from an entrance hidden in the shadows, The Ark is a veritable Were-playground that specializes in fighting tournaments for all creatures great and small. With both singles and doubles tournaments to compete in, the title of Ark Champion is hotly contested amongst the Were population. If anything illegal is going on in the city it's sure to be happening within the back rooms or behind the ring-side bar.
Note: This is a Were only establishment. All other species will be swiftly escorted out.
Home of: Nightshade
Owner Aiden Tetradore
Within the turbulent industrial district lies this club. The warehouse doesn't look like much on the outside but it provides a memorable experience from the state of the art lighting, offbeat Victorian-inspired artwork, comfortable black leather lounges, and the infamous 'black light' room. There is a wide variety of alcohol that lines the shelves of both of the magical and ordinary variety. It is a common stomping ground for the supernatural who want to let loose and dance the night away to the music that floods the establishment. Humans are most welcome if they dare.
Owner Risque Voth
The music playing overhead seemed to reverberate within the metal ship - making the space almost seem larger than it already was, if such was even possible. He knew this song, those lyrics already effortlessly filling his mind even though they failed to fall from his lips. Rather, it was the sweet sway of a pair of hips that distracted his vibrant irises. His eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as he strove to place her species. Alistair's very instincts all but screamed at him, the man decidedly...jumpy since his own turning though he had yet to master discerning which of those otherworldly creatures might truly do him harm. The Artist tried to push that anxiety from the forefront of his mind as he cleared his throat, the sound of his footsteps almost seemed unusually loud on the floor of the ship. The noise alone, apparently, had served as an indication of his presence as the young woman turned with an almost feline-like grace. It was almost unnerving really, but considering his history with cats, perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised at his own...tenseness. Alistair was well aware of the weight of her lightly colored eyes upon him as he held up that manilla envelope. The name written upon the front in black ink was all but a jumble of letters to the Dark-Hunter as he inquired as to how it was even pronounced in the first place.
That southern draw was evident within both the young woman's accent and too her usage of pet names. The sound of it caused his eyebrow to rise though it was hardly unliked by any means - more just...unexpected. "Tetradore." He repeated as if getting accustomed to the syllables that made up that foreign name. Interesting, so it was a surname, after all. At the very least it explained the peculiarity of it. A weak simper crossed Alistair's features at the sight of that smile that he was presented with. It was odd how something so simple could be so utterly disarming. Nevertheless, it helped put him at ease enough to allow his gaze to drift from the girl to the imposing boat that surrounded him. His soft inquiry of what this place was, however, prompted little more than a shrug from the girl. A soft snort left his nose at her utterance of the establishment's name and quickly his gaze found hers all over again. "As if I didn't know that from the name painted on the side of the boat." He responded with perhaps more sarcasm then he had meant. Her further explanation, however, brought some hint of recognition to the Dark Hunter - fights. Even he had heard rumors of some underground fighting ring somewhere in the depths of Sacrosanct. As a human, he'd had no business associating with fighting weres, especially considering the harm that they could do to him. As a Dark Hunter...well, surely the council knew of this place right? Why didn't they close it down?
The sound of the young woman's laughter drew his gaze back towards her with furrowed brows. If this was that Ark, then she certainly had to be a were too - didn't she? "A good time, huh?" He inquired with a vague hint of interest. He could appreciate, he supposed, how those fights might be a good outlet for that...energy...or anger. At the very least, he supposed they kept things....contained. His head shook ever so slightly as he watched her fingers run through her blonde locks. Alistair was all too happy to give up that envelope to her as the girl reached out for it. Her inquiry of its contents caused his own shoulders to rise ever so slightly. "A bunch of traffic violations I think - speeding....running red lights...that kind of thing. Apparently this...Tetradore is a shitty driver who doesn't like to pay for his tickets? I...kind of stopped listening while my boss was ranting about it." Alistair admitted with a hint of guilt before brushing it off entirely. "Anyways, I'm supposed to make sure he pays but I don't think they really expected anything other than delivering it...do you mind giving it to him?"