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 something almost religious about holding Alistair's sketchbook in her palms, what was obviously years of the man's work and time spent pouring over the pages. It spoke far more to his trust in her than anything else could have, and though she had given up her Christianity long ago the impact Is no less felt here and now. That reverence reflected in her voice as she argued playfully as to why this particular scenic sketch was different than any other he may have created, even if those others were better or more complete in the artist's opinion. When he finally consented to the fact he skillfully turned her own words against her, but her plush lips still curled upwards in that tell-tale smile before she thanked him. His soft response was paired with his gaze drawing back to her for a moment, reflected in the aquamarine depths of her own no less stormy than the seas before them.
After the moment passed she turned back to that notebook not hiding her eagerness in the least as she thumbed thoughtfully through the pages. Vaguely she is aware of Alistair beside her, slightly surprised as he chooses to recline in the cool sand instead of looking over her shoulder as she delves into possibly the most embodiment of his most personal thoughts and work. The soft rhythm of his breathing barely discernable to her sensitive ears over the crashing waves, but it served as the perfect soundtrack as he allowed her ample time to peruse the varied pieces. Only when her soft question broke the relative silence did he rise and identify the source of the intricate piece. It was obviously something he had spent much time on, every detail captured of the building he had no doubt seen daily for some number of years. It revealed even more about him as he identified the place and then what he had studied while on that storied campus.
Her head bobbed in understanding as he explained the variety of his classes, remembering well the schedule that had been lined up for her as well once upon a time. She wasn't sure she regretted missing out of history and statistics. Naturally he turned his curiosity onto herself in turn and it cast a reflective light on one of the key choices she had made in life that led her to where she was today. Too much story for someone she was just getting to know, and she didn't want to cast a shadow on the conversation she was rather enjoying. Her reply glossing over much left unsaid, and yet though she sensed the question in his eyes she was quickly distracted by the quiet laugh that left him instead. His playful jibe was echoed by her own melodic laughter, that rivalry something she was very familiar with having once made the same joke to one of her school friends who intended on going to Yale herself.
The wind grabbed at her hair ceaselessly as she tucked another errant wavy strand behind her ear once more, looking back at the softly chiseled features of the hunter who sat so easily by her side.