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
A loud peel of thunder echoed overhead, shaking the windows with the intensity of the vibrations from atoms literally splitting within the air itself. Although Alistair knew they were perfectly safe where they stood, even the emerald of his irises turned towards the ceiling as his brows briefly furrowed. He had thought he'd grown accustomed to those extraordinary otherworldly senses and yet this...this reminded him of how still terribly new he was to all of this. The thunder, he'd thought, had never been this loud before. Still, as quickly as aware of that fact as he was, so too had Alistair noticed something else. Fear. The very stretch of it called to those newly awakened Hunter senses quite like a predator knows when it's prey has been caught within a corner. She was afraid. It was so blatantly obvious - from the way her muscles seemed to tense with each passing moment, her composure fraying beneath his very eyes. He watched as she offered him his sketchbook, his own relief obvious within that moment, even as Alistair provided her the liberty of simply...not commenting on his own observations.
With the anger of the storm temporarily subsiding, a sort of poignant silence filled the space between them. The anticipation was nearly tangible as Alistair's gaze stared down at those bright blue eyes that looked back up at him with an unspoken...perhaps even an unrealized, expectation. Alistair broke the silence almost...awkwardly, even if his efforts were nothing short of friendly. He followed her towards the entryway, their polite, albeit friendly exchange was interrupted only by another loud clash of thunder, the storm nothing short of relentless as it lingered somewhere above the city. Alistair, however, hardly seemed terribly phased with the storm brewing outside, his fingers deftly flipping through the pages of the notebook in his hands. Carefully, the artist tore out the sketch of the ocean along the perforated lines, only to offer her the drawing he had promised her. He was almost...hesitant to continue his offer for...well...anything she might need to ease her anxiety.
The vibrant green of his gaze turned towards her as she studied him, only to offer the Hunter her sincere appreciation for the offer. Her usual carefree giggle felt somewhat...strained as she dragged her hand through her blonde locks. Her explanation only confirmed that which Alistair had already caught onto and briefly his shoulders rose in a small shrug. "I've always loved them. My sister and I used to watch the lightning while listening to Strauss and Debussy...it turned something....scary into a performance, I guess." Alistair commented, his gaze briefly fluttered towards the windows as he watched another round of lightning fill the sky. His head shook, pushing away those memories before he reached for the door, only to glance towards her with a weak simper, "Just...something to keep in mind." He offered, knowing well that watching the storms she clearly so often hid from might require a level of courage she was not yet ready to display - one Alistair was hardly inclined to demand of her in turn.