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 whole afternoon had been a bit surreal, yet the raging storm outside seemed capable of stripping the girls typical unwavering light-hearted nature. Each distant rumble growing closer and with it causing her heart to pound harder. Perhaps it was for the best that the Hunter had broken the heady tension which had formed in the darkness of her apartment if only to offer her that escape she was beginning to so desperately desire. Cowering in a corner was hardly going to make the best impression on her new friend. She couldn't miss how the dark-haired artist seemed slightly relieved as she gave him some space and went to open the door to allow him that exit, though perhaps it was simply residual from having that coveted sketch book back in his possession once more and she was reminded what a step it had been for him to share it with a veritable stranger.
Another peal of thunder bringing the faintest tinges of strain to her bright demeanor as he crossed the room towards her yet still he did not see need to mention it. The distraction of him opening that notebook to carefully remove the sketch she had so openly admired earlier. She cradled it in her hands carefully, knowing she would need to get a frame for it sooner rather than later lest anything befall her prize. There was no doubt however that his rather neighborly offer to assist her if she needed anything was related to it in some way to the tension that had been creeping into her muscles since the storm's arrival. During her time at the Ark Carolina had become very well versed in reading others, far beyond that which a typical bartender would pick up during their time there, and she knew his intentions were pure in a way that few were. It gave her a sense of peace even as she thanked him for the offer in such a way that did not make him feel obliged to stay. For surely the storm could not actually hurt her, though her body's instinctual reaction to it screamed anything but. It was something she was used to dealing with.
That gentle shrug of his shoulders drawing her attention, the leopard studying his face as he mentioned his own outlook on the tempests that plagued her. A soft smile pulling at the edges of her pink lips at the thought and the memory it evoked in turn even as her muscles tensed in anticipation when the lightning reflected in her wide eyes. Glad she could suppress it as much as possible while the heavenly display had drawn Alistair's attention as well until his gaze drew back to her with that final soft piece of advice.
Holding up the sketch slightly once more she portrayed that carefree grin she had wielded much more easily on the beach.