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
Tipson lit up a cigarette as he left the warehouse and strolled down the pavement. His attire of the evening included a t-shirt with a fraying collar, jeans that had seen better days. The shoes he wore had once been black but were now some sort of grayish shade from time taking its toll on them. A bit of leather string hung around his neck with a dragon charm hanging from it. Everything Tipson wore around here was cheap and old, things that weren't worth taking the time to steal.
He'd just finished a meeting with Franky who had hired Tipson to break into someone's home but not to steal. It was one of the more irritating jobs for Tipson but one that often paid good money. The young lady was apparently some form of an inventor and had been talking about some great new invention she was making. She'd apparently made another inventor jealous. He didn't need whatever it was she was making but he wanted all the information she had on it. Tipson assumed he planned to try and make the same thing first unless he wanted to figure out how to break it in the future? Tipson didn't really care. As long as it made him money Tipson could take some pictures.
The young man had an address to hit and was assured the residents of the house were normal humans. Tipson charged a hell of a lot more to risk his neck stealing from freaks. As much as he didn't care for the unnatural he also didn't want to get on their bad side. Enough money or favors owed had put him in some pretty nasty spots in the past.
Taking a puff of the cigarette he watched the smoke quickly fade in the air as it rose. Tonight was easy, he'd watch the house a bit, go home, drink and go to bed. Tomorrow he would get a better view of the neighborhood during the day and on the third day, he'd visit at whatever time it seemed people tended to be out of the house. He assumed it would be morning but who knew with inventors. They were a screwy bunch of people.
Tipson was taking his time as he strolled, enjoying the cigarette. Funny, Tipson mused, he had a motorcycle but when did he ever use it? Tipson spent most of his time either riding a bus or walking where he wanted to go. The motorcycle had seemed like a good idea but it just didn't seem as natural.