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 appears to be little more than an abandoned cargo ship. 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
In the wake of the news that Alistair had not chosen this life willingly, in many senses, Carolina felt a sense of comradery with him which she had not expected. Though it had been years since her own change she remembered the feeling in the months that had followed with startling clarity. Confusion about what was happening to her, fear of what she had become and what she might do, and so many other emotions all trying to make sense of the impossible. While she knew little to nothing about being a Hunter, she knew that nothing supernatural came without a price and she doubted the dark-haired artist beside her was given all the pros and cons to weigh before he was forced to make that call. No, usually it was only after your world had been turned upside down that you took the time to consider such things... only after the decision could not be reversed.
Yet as the world roiled so violently around them, Carolina felt oddly at peace as the hunter inquired about her own feelings towards what she was now. Time had given her perspective, and at the end of the day she found the good outweighed the bad of what she was. She found herself wondering what time might give to Alistair's own view on his transformation and if she would be around for him to share it with. That idea is what caused her to make that overtly optimistic comment that all they could do was try to make the best of their situations. She had never been one to mourn the past and what was lost, after all while it wasn't anything incredible she liked her life now and though the road leading to it had been rocky to say the least, looking back she wasn't sure there was a part she would choose to change.
She didn't need to look at her companion to hear the doubt that filled his dubious reply, but her gaze remained focused on his shadowed face regardless. All she could do was offer a soft smile and a breathy laugh in response until the distant peal of thunder near violently grabbed her attention. Her wide eyes flitting back to the tumultuous seas and sky around them, the storm now no doubt on the cusp of breaking over Sacrosanct and seeming to mark the end of their conversation on the beach. Alistair seemed to be of the same mind, his move to stand followed by his assessment that their good luck with the storm was about to run out drawing her gaze once more. She looked up at him now against a backdrop of those rolling thunderheads, somehow the stormy skies fit what she was coming to know about him, as she heartily nodded her agreement.
The extension of his hand came as a bit of a surprise, though she did not hesitate before reaching up to warp her warm fingers around his own, cradling that sketchbook into her side as she pulled herself up. At that exact moment the skies seemed to open up overhead, those clouds releasing the rain which filled them in large, fat drops that fell with quickening rapidness. She tucked that precious book of Alistair's work against her chest with her free hand, glancing down at it for a moment to ensure its safety and relative dryness before looking back to the Hunter.