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 sound of footsteps echoed in the darkened ally to his left though Alistair thought distinctly little of it as he glanced down at the brightly lit phone in his hands. His fingers flicked easily over the screen as he glanced over the menu of the chinese restaurant. It wasn't until those instincts near slammed into him that Alistair glanced up though it was entirely too late as a body collided forcefully into him, sending the Artist entirely off-balance. The pair crumbled to the cement underfoot, a muttered curse near immediately left his lips as he glanced down towards the young woman that had fallen against his chest. His lips twisted in a visible frown as he demanded to know just what exactly she'd thought she was doing. The emerald of his irises intently stared at her as the girl glanced up at him and yet, Alistair was hardly prepared for that gnawing sense of familiarity, even as she started to retort. It took him a moment to place her and yet...her overly loud computer and constant need to interrupt him had been the bane of his existence that day, resulting in a memory that stood out sharper than all the others.
Unfortunately, whatever excuse she had been about to provide him was cut off entirely at the presence of another. That distinct hiss entirely unforgettable. Shit. The vibrancy of his gaze turned upwards to eye the creature with the same level of weariness that he was so stared at in turn. The vampire knew, of course, exactly what he was. The scales of a once 'easy' prey were no longer tipped in his favor, or so he seemed to be considering. If only Alistair was even a shred of the Hunter his own maker was! His gaze followed the starving vampire's own towards the young girl's knee, that faint hue of red near condemning their fate. So much for the hope that his status as Hunter would convince the vampire to rethink his decision. His voice was nothing if not incredibly sharp as he commanded the girl to rise, though Alistair hardly gave her much of a chance to comply before he was hauling her up and picking himself swiftly up and to his feet. He was purposeful as he pushed the girl behind him, Alistair so effectively standing in the way of the vampire and his given feast. The last thing he wanted was for her to suffer the same fate he almost had, even if he hadn't exactly liked the girl.
He was quite to refute the vampire's insistence that he should leave and for a poised moment, the two men simply stared at each other, clearly waiting to see which of them would make the first move. In that agonizing moment of anticipation, the artist was hardly attentive to the weight of the young girl's gaze upon him. After all, he knew just how...fast they could be - their speed surpassing even what Hunters were capable of and, frankly, he had no idea how he was going to succeed in getting both of them out of this one. Abruptly, the vampire lunged forward, the action of his impending demise immediately prompted a bright flare of blue and white to his right, demanding his attention as the weight of something filled his palm. He glanced down just long enough to note that flaming dagger, those blue fires flickering lively in anticipation. Alistair hardly had time to consider the dagger in his hand, much less that the fire was creeping ever closer towards the hilt. It was near instincts that saw him throw the blade though he hardly waited long enough to see if he'd hit his mark.
Already, Alistair was pivoting upon his heels, grabbing the girl's wrist as he half dragged her down the street with him, insisting that she run. Behind him, he could hear a scream as his fiery blade hit....well....something. He hardly turned around to see the result of his pathetic attack, the boy near single-mindedly searching for some way to escape from the vampire they would surely fail to outrun. The girl seemed to mirror his thoughts, her own protest nearly loud in the quietness of the night. "I know that." He snapped at her, glancing back at her even as he pulled her further down the sidewalk. Unfortunately, the pair hardly got far before the now enraged vampire caught up to them. He was aware of that sharp force pulling him back as the girl was yanked out of his grasp, her petite figure thrown to the floor before the vampire was upon her with an otherworldly speed that reminded him far too much of his own death.
He was well aware of how little time he had before the vampire managed to overpower her, resulting in Alistair reacting in the only way he could think of - he threw the entirity of his weight into pushing the vampire off of her. He truly didn't expect it to be effective, not when he had little idea of how that fiery knife had appeared in his hands - it was their only true salvation, he was sure. Nevertheless, he was strikingly...surprised when the pair of men fell to the side of the girl, the Hunter quickly scrambling for some upper hand. It was a sheer miracle when Alistair managed to find himself on top of the vampire, even if the creature was now hissing and grappling for his neck. The artist's hand curled into a fist, his hand striking out against the vampire's face. The impact prompted a loud curse word from his lips, the skin of his knuckles tearing. It was like hitting a fucking wall! And yet, despite that, the vampire appeared somewhat...surprised, as if he'd actually felt that bunch in a way that Alistair's once human body had failed to phase their kind. Well...that was...something, though truly, he hardly knew what to do now that he found himself with a slight upper hand. After all, he hardly had a weapon to use and if he ceased for even a moment, the undead creature would be on them in an instant.