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
you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared
It wasn't all that surprising to fine Vhalla in one of the more... unrefined establishments. It was one of the few she hadn't been banned from - not that it was ever going to stop her from getting a drink. She simply decided to give such establishments a break from her notorious drunken brawls. Tonight though, she was feeling rather docile even after three or four drinks, the white-haired woman having loss count. Casually, her fingers wrap loosely around the 5th drink, or was it six? She really couldn't remember. Vhalla hums quietly to herself, the bar fairly packed considering it was the middle of the week. She managed to produce enough of a 'get the fuck away from me' vibe to keep from people potentially approaching her. Just because she didn't want to put a flaming fist through someone's face right now didn't mean it wasn't bound to happen. It wasn't until her bladder was full that made her pulls herself off that barstool seat, entirely unaware of the commotion that was happening next to her.
Instead, Vhalla makes her way towards the bathrooms, thankful to not find a line which was a miracle in itself. Letting herself in, she finds the least disgusting bathroom stall to do her business and finishes quickly. Without washing her hands (such a rebel), she pushes her way out of the bathroom, her blue eyes suddenly drawn to a dark haired woman entering the men's washroom, her purring words like dessert to Vhal's ears. Curiosity piqued, she pokes her head around the corner, the door somehow getting caught to remain open. It was clear that something was about to go down, a rush of adrenaline spiking through her blood as she casually leans against the opening. Vhalla isn't immediately noticed as all attention is focused on the exotic beauty cornering the poor soul in the last stall.
Tilting her head, she barely registers the exiting of the occupants though it was clear that the cornered man wasn't going anywhere until this woman was done with him. Vhalla can't help but let out a wicked laugh and the scenario and though she couldn't see the man's face, she could picture it. It was easy to imagine the dumbstruck features on the drunken fool who decided to mess with a decidedly... rowdy woman. There's a tap on her shoulder which briefly draws her attention away, an older man attempting to let himself into the bathroom. She didn't know why she did it, not really but she takes a step to keep him from entering, her icy blue gaze falling heavily on the man, "Trust me, you don't want to go in there," she drawled lazily. Whether it was the tone of her voice or the fact she wasn't moving, the man seemed to accept that he wasn't going to get past her and instead staggered towards the exit leading to the alleyway.
Returning her attention back to the black-haired woman, "Should I shut the door and give you two some privacy?" Vhalla calls, her voice barely containing the amusement that's wafting off her.
To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered