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
(dear friend it will be alright, please just stay by my side)
(you might think the world is tumbling down, but it's not)
It is euphoria like she has never known before.
Maeve had never doubted for a moment that they would come for her, the were creatures she has surrounded herself around have never let her down before, so she had no reason to think otherwise. She feels as though she is about to jump out of her own skin from excitement. Maeve's lavender eyes are wide with hope, her wishes are still lingering on her breath, answered before they even had the chance to grow cold. Tobi stands there with eyes dark, and while others may see a deadly were leopard, Maeve can only see the man who took her easter egg hunting and who plays hide and seek with her within the walls of the ark. (And somehow manages to always win.) She meets his dark eyes as he turns around and there is such glee buried in the young creases of her face upon seeing him, knowing he was here for her.
Her eyes fall to Mira next, having landed in a tangle of fishnets. "Mira, Mira, I am here," she cries out, as if her words alone could help the woman detangle herself. But it is with quick amazement as she watches the woman melt away the fishing nets that had so trapped her just moments before. "Mira," she yells out in surprise, unsure if the woman was hurt, if the hunters were trying to hurt her wolf friend just as they had done to her. Maeve breathes relief from gentle lips as the woman emerges unscathed. She should have known better, Mira was impenetrable. At least, in the lavender eyes of the fae child she was.
Tetradore. HIs change in attitude had gone perhaps entirely unnoticed by the young girl with locks of snowy blonde. Maeve simply sees her knight in shining armour, here to save her once again. He shifts, from man to panther, from man to monster some might say, but Maeve sees the black cat that is sure to end her suffering, that is sure to bring justice to the hunters that had stolen her away. Tetradore would never be a monster to her, no matter how hard he tried.
Mira's words snap her attention back towards the woman. She smiles, despite the atrocity she was witnessing, experiencing, she smiles. "I know," is all she says, quietly, almost to herself. She truly was one to never lose hope, as foolish as it would seem, especially at a time like this. "Mira, Mira, Im here," she calls out in soprano tones once more to draw the woman's attention towards her. Those soft, golden locks have fallen in front of her face, but she was bound and unable to move it. "Mira," she calls out one more time, unaware of the violence that is occurring, the pole she is tied to not allowing her to quite turn in that direction, all for the sake of rescuing one little, tiny fae child. But she can hear the roar of big cats and the cries of hunters, and Maeve is not so ignorant that her thoughts do not wander to what is happening. There is still burning from the iron infested ropes that bind her, but, with the arrival of perhaps the greatest rescue team in all of history, it does not seem to burn as badly.
Maeve has always been a creature of blind faith.
It may yet be her downfall, but, alas, today it is not.