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
That low, malicious laughter-filled Alistair's ears, filling the depths of his soul with an ever-increasing sense of dread. Those chances of his survival were decreasing drastically by the second. With no weapon on hand and his fist suffering the brute of the damage, there was distinctly little Alistair could do to defend himself - and both of them knew it. He hardly had a moment to react before he was literally thrown off from his advantageous position. His body collided with an audible thud upon the pavement, the Hunter rolling from the sheer momentum before his figure finally settled at the feet of the young woman he had attempted miserably to protect. An audible groan left his lips as he rolled onto his side, the breath entirely knocked out of him. Vaguely, Alistair was aware of the young girl stepping over him, just as he too was vaguely aware of her idiotic idea to place herself between the two men. His head turned to the side as he listened to those stuttered words that left her lips, that fear within her altogether palpable even if she faced certain death. The jade hue of his irises turned towards the vampire, Alistair near purposefully rose in time in the frenzied, undead man.
How Alistair abhorred that demeaning chuckle, the woman's words so clearly failing to hit their mark though he hardly anticipated them to. After all, why should the supernatural predator be scared of his prey? His gaze, however, followed the bright crimson eyes of the vampire towards the knife the girl clutched tightly onto with her hand. It's blade was...small and...not the sharpest and yet, at the very least, it was a weapon. That was all Alistair had needed. He lunged quite in time with the vampire's own swift movements, his arm effortlessly hooking around the girl's waist as Alistair dug his heels into the pavement, pulling her backward and against his chest. Her cry was swiftly ignored as Alistair's hand reached for her blade, his grip entirely tight despite her efforts to pull away. His very touch only seemed to spark an eruption of blue, as if that affinity knew when he so desperately needed it the most. Those syllables upon the girl's lips hardly fully manifested, nor did Alistair truly hear them when the vibrancy of his gaze remained so focused upon his target. Rather, with all of his strength, Alistair forced her hand forward, plunging that flaming knife into the very chest of the vampire.
He watched as those flames licked at the creature's clothing, burning away both cloth and flesh as her once small and dull dagger suddenly seemed to cut through to the vampire's heart like it was merely butter. Perhaps he should have stopped there and yet, he was equally as aware that it was unlikely the pair would ever get another chance like this. He pulled her hand backward, only to plunge the blade into the creature's chest again and again. He could hear the gurgle of blood within the vampire's throat, the undead man having entirely stilled, staring at the pair with wide eyes. A single cough brought that dark crimson substance on the vampire's lips before, suddenly, he collapsed at the couple's feet. Alistair pulled the young women back several feet, his hand still tightly gripped the hilt of her switchblade. The once bright blue that laced the silver blade had fluttered out of existence now that the immediate danger had passed. For several silent moments, Alistair watched the vampire, clearly fearing the creature might somehow rise to his feet again. Blood pooled around his body, slowly creeping towards the young girl's shoes and yet...still the vampire didn't move.
It was with a soft breath of relief that Alistair finally released the young woman, his hand falling away from hers in the process as he muttered how useful that dagger would have been before he was launched several feet off of the vampire. His hand still fucking hurt, although, as he flexed it, he was surprised to discover those scrapes upon his knuckles had already started their healing process. The jade hue of his irises turned from his own fingers, however, at the clattering sound of the blade upon the ground. His brow rose, though he said nothing of it as the boy reached down for his own fallen messenger bag. Alistair scooped the strap up in his hand, pulling it over his head and across his chest. It was movement out of his periphery that prompted Alistair to pause though he hardly had a moment to react before the young woman threw her arms around him. "Wha -- " Those words never fully formed upon his lips before her's pressed feverishly against his own. He froze in blatant shock, every muscle within his physique taunt as he simply stared at her, the boy struggling to understand exactly what was occurring. Within moments, Alistair pushed her away from himself, the boy reaching up to wipe away the wetness upon his lips. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" He declared, near glaring at her in the process. God, he could still feel that tingle left behind by where her lips had touched him. She was crazy, she was absolutely crazy. Taking on a vampire. Not using her dagger. Kissing random strangers?! He'd saved a crazy person. Perfect. Just perfect.