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.
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
While the Pacific Northwest was by no means a stranger to precipitation, they tended more towards constant drizzle and thunderstorms were less frequent by far. At this point the storm would have already driven the leopard into the darkened depths of her closet to ride out the roiling tempest beneath the cover of a blanket and noise-cancelling headphones which helped but did not stop the vibrations from the thunder which still seemed to soak into her bones. It takes extreme effort on her part to maintain her composure as that sound echoes outside of her apartment. Fear delegating that she lose all sense of reality that thunder cannot actually harm her as it elicits that instinctual response to flee and hide at all costs. Carolina managing to keep it in check just enough, likely due to the juxtaposing joy and excitement she had just felt in their escapade before she relinquishes the artist's sketchbook back into his possession. His own relief palpable as he holds it close once again.
The heavy silence which then envelopes then has her already raw nerves on end, tingling with a mixture of intrigue and a sense of anticipation which is not entirely proper. The normally overwhelmingly curious side of her intensified by frayed nerves and perhaps a touch too much quarantine as she looked up at the dark-haired hunter in her home. For a moment she contemplates acting on the whim to close the distance between them if only to see the response it might elicit behind his curiously calm façade. And yet he breaks the tension in a friendly if not slightly awkward manner and though she can be forward she has never pushed someone past where they wanted to go.
She still felt a sense of satisfaction in the entire exchange, even as she agreed that it had been very nice to run into him again and moved to flip the light on by the entryway. Turning back with a smile and a request that he not be a stranger in the future. The clash of resonating thunder which punctuated her words however broke that familiar cover of humor on which she so often relied for a moment, the storm no doubt nearly fully upon the city by now she knew its frequency would only increase in the coming minutes. Still she managed a light smile as he agreed to her request, watching as he opened that sketchbook one last time to remove the artwork which she had so adamantly admired before. Leaning against the door to keep it open she took the drawing from him and held it carefully before her, letting her eyes take in the wild scene once more, knowing that she would need to find a frame for it soon.
Her gaze shifted back to him as he continued on, offering her... what? Help? Relief? She wasn't quite sure what lingered in his dark as she studied him for a moment.