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
Malia swore she could practically smell Ashton's sweat from here, but she wasn't about to all him on it. She just didn't understand why he suddenly seemed so tense and nervous. It couldn't be because of her, right? She was nothing special. A wreck, really. She still thought of herself as an animal most of the time more than human. The idea of someone like Ashton liking her as anything more than someone entertaining to hang out with seemed laughable, really. She was no good for him, but it didn't mean she wouldn't take the chance if it was given to her. She just didn't expect it to happen anytime soon. Especially not today when she wasn't even expecting to run into him. So when Ashton told her his feelings, she couldn't believe him at first. How could she? Yet when she told him the feeling was mutual before she could pull her brain back out of her throat, somehow he seemed....relieved.
Her eyes narrowed a bit in question, but she didn't say anything, at least not yet. The silence started to drag on and she felt her throat growing parched. Should she swallow? Yet somehow it felt like the sound of even that would be too loud right now. The very air seemed to vibrate. But when Ashton's lips pulled into a small grin, it was all the woman could do to drag her eyes away from his lips when he spoke. Wait, what? He wanted to date? For a moment, she was dumbfounded, searching his expression like she was waiting for the pitch. There had to be a joke in there somewhere right? But when nothing else came out, she realized he was probably waiting on her answer.
Finally, the WereCoyote brought herself to swallow so she could clear her throat and try to form words. "Date? Is that like Netflix and chill or something else?" Okay, so she didn't have a whole lot of points of reference.