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
There was a hint of defiance within the soul of the newly turned Dark Hunter as he placed himself between the vampire and the fragile human girl who was so clearly meant to be little more than prey. He was well aware the extent of which he was out of his depths. After all, he had yet to truly commit to the Hunter life and, in turn, Adrien had yet to offer him any sort of...formal training. Their conversations were often kept brief, the elder Hunter checking in on him on the occasion and, prior to this very moment, Alistair had been perfectly accepting of that limited relationship. Now, however, he terribly regretted such a decision. The Hunter had known, inevitably, that one of the pair had to attack, just as he had anticipated it would be the starving, undead vampire. Unfortunately, he'd hardly had a plan on how to properly deal with the problem. Alistair was equally unprepared for that brilliant flash of blue from his periphery vision as the cool weight of steel landed in the palm of his hand. Alistair hardly had time to truly inspect the blade, not with impending death nearly barreling down upon them. He hardly hesitated before he threw the dagger at the vampire, only to pivot upon his heels, his grip upon the girl's wrist entirely tight as he pulled her along behind him.
Behind him, Alistair could hear that awful screech of the vampire, his dagger had apparently hit true...in some manner before fizzling out of existence. He hardly bothered to even glance over his shoulder as the pair ran and yet, all the while, he knew their headstart could only last them so long. The girl at his side was keen to point this very fact out, her snapping remark only prompted his jade irises to narrow. Alistair hardly had a moment to respond, however, before the girl was pulled back, her hand yanked out of his grasp. He turned abruptly, the vibrancy of his gaze falling upon the young girl. The vampire was already upon her, his hands buried within her blonde locks, his face sickeningly close to her flesh in some feverish effort to bite her. God, he remembered well what that had been like - that hopelessness when all his struggling had been utterly pointless against the strength of the undead. It was, perhaps, that memory that prompted Alistair into action, even if he was wholly uncertain of how this battle would end any different. The Hunter threw the entirety of his weight upon the vampire, the pair of men tumbling to the concrete in a flailing of limbs and, in the vampire's case, gnashing of teeth.
It was a sheer miracle, truly, that gave Alistair even a moment of an upper hand, even if he was quite uncertain of what to do with it. He hardly had any notion of how that magical blade had appeared within the first place, much less how to call it again. The very hopelessness of the situation prompted Alistair to resort to that which he knew. His fingers curled into a fist, the Hunter hardly pausing as he threw his weight into the arm in the way he'd long ago been taught to do. His knuckles slammed into the hunter's face, though the impact of it did scarcely little then stun the vampire. A soft gasp of pain left his own lips, the sensation more akin to punching a brick wall. The skin upon his knuckles were scraped and yet before he could come up with some other plan for his momentary advantage, the vampire beneath him recovered, effectively tossing the boy from his momentary perch.
Alistair's body slammed into the pavement, the hunter's figure rolling for a moment before settling at the girl's feet, unbeknownst to him. A soft groan left his lips, the breath knocked out of his lungs and yet, his instincts still screamed at him to get up. He had only just placed his palm upon the sidewalk to press himself upwards as the girl stepped over him, scrambling to place herself between vampire and hunter. Such a ....stupid...girl. The thought lingered on his mind even as he glanced up, watching the vampire slowly rise to his feet with a hint of frenzied bemusement. Alistair clenched his jaw as he pushed himself to his feet. His gaze fell upon the silver knife in the girl's hand. She had that this whole time?! Alistair's lips pressed together in a hard line, even as the girl's shaky voice demanded the vampire leave.
Oh, how threatening she was, both Alistair and the vampire knew better than to believe her efforts. Both, at that moment, seemed to move in tandem with one another. Alistair quickly reached forward, one arm hooking around her waist as he yanked the girl backward, her back pressed against the firmness of his chest as his opposite hand reached around her, his soft palm reaching around to embrace her own at the hilt of the blade. His very touch brought that rush of blue flames, the vampire lunging quite in the same moment with jaws parted and fingers curled in claws. Unlike the girl, Alistair hardly hesitated as he forced her hand to thrust forward, that blade stabbing through cloth and flesh with a vengeance as it pierced the vampire's heart. The undead creature abruptly stopped within his path, his dark eyes slowly raising towards them in astonishment. Alistair hardly hesitated, however, his hand pulling that blade bad only to stab the creature in the heart all over again...and again...till the vampire fell to his knees, bleeding out on the floor beneath them. Slowly, Alistair stepped back from the vampire, his arm still protectively wrapped around the girl's waist as he stared at the creature, searching for any sign of life. He watched as the vampire stilled, and slowly, his grip upon the blade lessoned, that blue fire distinguishing immediately. "You could have pulled that out sooner." He grumbled as he released the girl, reaching down to pick up his fallen messenger bag now that the immediate threat was over. Where was his phone? He was starving now. Hadn't he been about to order Chinese?