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
There were certain places Tipson generally didn't go to and most of his had to do with the matter of how dangerous it felt to show up. On the other hand, he had this problem with curiosity and impulsiveness that had gotten him into his fair share of trouble. Now Syn welcomed humans but Tipson was well aware that there were a good number of freaks that enjoyed hanging out at the place.
The ale was supposed to be good though and the music that he could hear from outside had a good rhythm. Tipson had just been to the black market earlier today and had brought a share of his profits with him for drinking and any other fun that came up. Tipson thought on it for maybe an entire minute before he threw out concerns and headed into the club.
As he walked in, the sound which had been muted instantly seemed much louder. The dance floor was packed with people dancing. Some were dancing at least while others were pretending they could dance. Vampire, vampire, another one, suspicious-looking. Tipson skimmed the faces of a few he saw, a tiny smirk flickering over his features. Oh well, freaks shouldn't be the only ones getting to enjoy the fun. It was a Friday night and no one should be at home bored.
Tipson wore a black polo shirt, well-fit black jeans, and slate grey sneakers. The young man eeled his way through the crowd. The worst of freaks in his mind were the leeches and they were, fortunately, the easiest to spot so he avoided closing in overly close to pale-skins. At the bar Tipson takes a seat, pondering the collection of drinks. "Hey friend," casually called to the man behind the counter, "I'd like a long island iced tea." Tipson didn't bother raising his voice over the music and while it was harder for Tipson to hear himself the bartender seemed to have no problem. It would make sense only freaks worked here with their overly keen hearing. How do they not go deaf in a place like this? Tipson wasn't a fan of real tea but the alcohol mix that stole the name of it was another matter.
Tipson had never tried dancing to music like this but was pretty sure he could do better than some of the bums out there. Tipson imagined most of the ladies were doing a fine job and most the men were faking it best they could to dance around the ladies. The young thief was happy to just be a spectator as he enjoyed the music and ale. Tipsy swallowed a nice amount of the tea soon enough after it was delivered. The party would be a lot more fun when he had a good buzz going.
There are parts of your mind that are hard to shut off. Even as he watched the myriad of people a part of him searched for the better targets if he were to try and steal from them. Heck, he wouldn't come in here if the music hadn't lured him in with the promise of good liquor. There was no way he'd steal anything from someone in here. Still, it was too strong of a habit to not watch for. Once he got enough drinks in him Tipson would eventually quit bothering with it.