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
She couldn't seem to drop the tension in her shoulders ever since finding out the former Beta of the Chimera pack was back at the pack house. Did she just want to re-join the pack or was there more to it? Malia wanted to befriend her, welcome her as pack, but she couldn't stop thinking about the way it worked in the wild from whence she came. A title wasn't just something you gave up and walked away from in the feral coyote pack she used to run in. You fought for it tooth and claw and didn't give it up until you couldn't stand anymore. Then you prayed the fates would spare you from dying so you could heal up enough to fight for it again. Yet Frost had told her that Edie disappeared and now that years had gone by, she showed back up? Malia didn't know how to trust it.
She needed a good run to take her mind off it so that's exactly what she did. Throwing a backpack on in case she ended up by the woods and wanted to shift, the WereCoyote took off down the sidewalk and headed into town. She was glad for the setting sun because the city was starting to slow down in human traffic as she raced her way past the buildings. Businesses were closing up and those that thrived on the night life were opening their doors and turning on those bright neon lights to welcome in the vibrant hordes. Malia ran past them all with no destination in mind, but when a familiar voice hit her keen ears, she tripped and almost face planted in her surprise. Stumbling to a halt, she panted slightly as she looked around until her brown gaze fell on the broad shoulders of a familiar figure. Her lips curved into a smile as she walked over and poked the back of his shoulder.
"Hey, you. Whatcha doing?" It didn't occur to Malia that Ashton might be busy or not able to talk at the moment. He was here and she was here (plus she needed the distraction) so why not, right?