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 appears to be little more than an abandoned cargo ship. 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
Erik wasn't usually known for chatting it up with his own species, either. Guess he and Darcy had that in common. He tended to stick to himself and was probably the most social with humans, whether because they weren't considered a threat or because they were just easier to get along with, remained to be seen. Darcy was a man of power and a man used to getting what he wanted. Erik could tell that by the confidence of his very posture as he leaned back in his chair as if it were a throne. Erik remembered that feeling well. He used to perch on his own throne, once in Sweden during his Viking years, and in his first vampire bar in Lafayette. It was a hard feeling to get over and one he would never forget. That feeling power flowing just beneath you and therefore, through you. It was a heady feeling, but some ways, he didn't miss it all that much. Not anymore.
He was sure Darcy would be smart enough to pick up on a hint or two if he just summarized his answers and it seemed he was right. The man's gaze narrowed before he asked if Erik was a Viking. He wasn't ashamed of his past so he found it easy enough to nod. "Used to be. Easy way to make a living and keep steady work, if you knew where to go. It had its uses, plus I was young...and bored." That was one way to put it. He remembered how he wanted to see the world as a young teenager, full of spit and fire. The life of a Viking seemed like the perfect dream. He could take as he pleased and kill those that stood in his way. Plus he could have a woman pretty much any time he wanted. In those days, it was heaven to the ears of an easily inspired youth. Maybe it helped build him into the vampire he was today, or maybe it was just a way to waste time before his real life began.
They changed the subject to Darcy's origins, and he wasn't surprised to hear the other vampire wasn't at all happy with the modern changes in his beloved state of Georgia. It was only then that Darcy brought up a casino in town run by vampires and it was easy to see it left a bad taste in the man's mouth. Once he seemed convinced that Erik had nothing to do with it, he told him that they had a disagreement over territory. It seemed the common argument, too many bodies and not enough space for their egos. None of Erik's concern, anyway. He nodded along. "Noted." Was all he offered. He wasn't one to start a fight for the hell of it, not unless he was in that kind of mood. It had been a very long time since he'd been in one of those moods, though.
He gave his name, not finding any harm in giving it. He was sure somehow Darcy wouldn't forget him anytime soon. He was almost sorry about that. It would have been nice to just continue blending in. It seemed the other vampire was just too curious of him, or he just felt threatened. Erik wasn't sure just yet. The man's interest seemed peaked when Erik told him of his vengeance plot against a hunter. The man offered information, though, telling him of the Hunter Council and how he might get some answers, whether from one of the hunters or their Were Horses. It was useful information and Erik was glad for it, leaning forward a little as his eyes sparked with intrigue. Of course, he had to know Darcy wouldn't be glad just to give information without getting a little more in return. He wanted to know more specifics, like what the hunter took. Erik felt his shoulders tense but he rolled them to make them relax again before he spoke.
"The life of my prodigy. He tricked her and I should have been there.....he will pay for it, though. Make no mistake." His eyes darkened with promise even as his hands tightened on the arms of the chair he was gripping. He didn't usually tell anyone what his true motive was, but he couldn't really find a reason to lie to Darcy. It's not like the man was going to dare to stand in the way of his true purpose in life. He wouldn't survive it. No one would.