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
Her whole body seemed frozen within his grip as his hand tightened around the hilt of her pathetic knife. The blade, accompanied with those bright blue flames that Alistair had come to accept was his own doing stabbed again and again into the vampire's heart, his fires licking at clothing and flesh to help that tiny knife dig deeper and deeper with each plunge. That gurgling sound of blood upon the vampire's lips was all too familiar to the Hunter, if only because the last time he'd heard that sound, it had been him that was making it. He watched with a hardened gaze as the vampire clutched at his chest, the undead creature somehow losing it's ferocity now that its life was on the line. It crumpled, unexpectedly, at the couple's feet, his body sprawled out into the pavement as that dark blood that had kept it animated began to pool around his form. Wearily, Alistair pulled the girl and himself backward, placing a notable distance between them and the gasping form of the vampire. The emerald of his gaze remained focused upon the creature, Alistair refusing to let down his guard until he was well assured the man was dead. He watched in stoic silence as the life drained out of the creature, its limbs slowly began to still till, finally, there was hardly even a glimpse of life left within the corpse.
Without warning, the artist released the young mortal from his arms. She seemed to stumble away from him, her knife falling with a clatter on the pavement underfoot. Beyond the almost icy remark from his lips, however, Alistair paid the girl distinct little attention. Rather, he reached for his fallen messenger bag with far greater concern. Though the bag itself seemed intact (thank God for solid leather craftsmanship), it was the contents that truly concerned the boy. He had only just shifted to open it when a glimpse of movement from his periphery demanded his attention, the young woman all but throwing herself back into his arms. Alistair only had just enough time to catch her, his lips parting to issue a demand that would never fully form before her sweetheart lips pressed against his own. For a moment, Alistair simply stared at her in shock, his whole body near freezing as her lips brushed forcefully against his own. It took him a bit longer then he cared to admit to register what was fully happening and yet, the moment he did, the newly turned Hunter reached out to shove her away from him.
He hadn't realized how much strength he'd put into the gesture, the girl near tripping over her own feet as she reached for his sleeve, desperately clinging onto his arm in some attempt to find her balance once again. A scowl crossed his features and yet, Alistair allowed her that moment even as he demanded to know what the hell she was doing and, more importantly why she'd thought kissing him was in any way appropriate! Her apology was filled with that...distinct...franticness as her bright blue eyes turned towards the body at their feet. Alistair's gaze slowly followed towards her own and for a moment, he stared at the vampire with the same sort of blank look upon his features as the mortal girl's kissing efforts stirred fro him. There it was, after all...his very first hunt. His first kill...at his feet. This was what Adrien worked so hard for and yet...Alistair hardly felt that hint of satisfaction that he thought his maker experienced. Sluggishly, his attention turned back towards the young woman as she insisted she was going to go to jail for murder, much less that she had figured kissing the 'hot boy that saved her life' was a good idea for her last moment of freedom.
Hot...boy? Was she referring to him? His brow rose, his gaze turning away from her, and yet, Alistair was almost keen to focus upon anything other than...well...her apparent attraction towards him. "You're not going to jail for murder." He commented softly, this a topic that had briefly been covered within his school - the newfound rights and regulations that came with the supernatural. His gaze scanned the pavement as he spoke, "You were helping a Dark Hunter with a potentially dangerous vampire, any acts you've done in the process of assisting would be forgiven at the Dark Hunter's discretion." How easily that passage came back to him, Alistair near reciting it from memory than truly having a conversation with the woman. Still, for a moment, something else distracted him entirely, "Oh....there it is." He mumbled, half to himself as he stepped around the vampire, leaning down to pick up his fallen cellphone. A notable frown crossed his features as Alistair pressed the 'on' button, the bright screen flaring to life onto to present him with the spiderweb crack upon the face of it. Great. He'd killed a vampire, saved a crazy girl who tried to kiss him, broke his phone in the process, and still had yet to have dinner. Just..fucking...great.