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 normalcy of their conversation was almost amusing, alone on the abandoned beach with the city in the grip of what some were beginning to call a pandemic, and yet Carolina found herself enjoying that ordinariness that her life so often seemed to lack. She had always been able to appreciate art, but it did not lessen the amazement she felt holding that bound book and the years of Alistair's work within it. It gave her a window into his life she did not expect, but as they discussed his schooling at the legendary university he had depicted in that detailed drawing she was pleased that he was willing to be open with her. Something that she could return, at least partly; there was no need to overshare all that had prevented her from academically being his rival. She had a sense that he knew she was holding back though, and that he was kind enough not to pry more than she was willing to offer spoke volumes. His soft response causing her lips to quirk ever so slightly even as her eyes swept out to the tempestuous scene before them.
As the wind picked up and reeled about them she knew the storm was almost upon them, only a matter of time before the clouds broke overhead and her stomach clenched at the thought of the thunder which would no doubt follow. It was going to be a long day for her, already thinking about the noise cancelling headphone stashed in her closet as she tucked her tousled hair behind her ear once more. The ironically peaceful conversation the pair was encompassed in was running out of time she knew and so she could not resist inquiring about being a hunter, curiosity very much a part of her even if it was cliché. It was something she knew admittedly little about despite them being the supposed biggest enemy to other supernatural beings, but she had learned recently that they were far from the only one.
Their eyes met once more even as his shoulders rolled in uncertainty. His answer one she had not expected, brows furrowing slightly on her expressive face as she realized two things. Firstly that he had not been a hunter very long by any means, it explained his status as errand boy at the Ark when they had first met. Secondly that this fate, while one that he had apparently chosen, had not been his idea. Rather it sounded like it had come down to being a hunter or dying and she did not fault him for wanting to live. Many more questions swirled in her mind as raucously as the ocean before them, and yet before she could find one she was willing to ask he turned the inquiry towards her.
Her pink lips pulled into a rueful smile as she appraised him for a moment.