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
you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared
Vhalla had been there only long enough to turn around and watch the pool game unfold before her, the man, the loser, turning redder by the moment. She was almost sure she could see steam coming out of his ears. Oh she was sure it was embarrassment more than anything to lose the woman time and time again, he even had the audacity to bark at someone for trying to take the next game. She could see the annoyance of the other patrons and Vhal could see that roiling anger beneath his skin, knew it was going to blow in a matter of moments. She's momentarily distracted as the ebony beauty sidles up next to her, Val's ice blue eyes turning on the woman, amusement crinkling her nose. The two had met... at a bar, no less, Askaree quite literally kicking a man through the door. Vhalla had been delighted! "I did," she offers a sly smile, "Sort of," she tacks on after a moment, swirling the whiskey in her glass before taking another drink.
"Look," she gestures with her head towards the pool table, a woman's cackle rising above the smoke filled room as a shout of anger falls from the man as he stalks around the table, shouting obscenities at her, a finger pointing in her direction. Telling her how she was cheating, that there was no way she could beat him five times and blah blah blah. Vhalla watches the shouting match, still docile for the most part, just as she notices Sera's familiar form sneaking through the bodies and making her way towards the two woman. Vhal raises her drink in greeting just as she approaches. Serafina slides into the free seat, the white haired witch's attention settling on her. She's quick to order before her stormy gaze falls on Vhalla's features, the assassin appraising her. It had been years since she last saw the fellow witch, the very memory of them skating across a pond to teach herself control. It was a... harrowing experience, one she had to sleep off. Though, she hadn't fallen through, which she was rather thankful for. Since then, the witch had learned to control that raging fire, only to discover more talents that lurked beneath her skin as the years went on.
Such memories are pushed away as Sera prods her for information. She shrugs slightly, hardly wanting to lie to her, "I was bored, I thought it might be fun to get a drink," she says with utter nonchalance before leaning back against the bar, her free, scarred hand gesturing to the ebony beauty at her side, noting the way Sera was appraising the were woman, "Serafina, Askaree. Askaree, Sera," Vhal waves a hand between them, the introduction quick, precise, to the point. "Oh, by the way," her ice blue eyes slide to Sera's a wicked smile curling on her lip, "he might spit in your drink, you might want to watch him," she gives a subtle nod of her head towards the bartender who is busy preparing Sera's drink and from the looks of it, four other orders. Her attention switches to Askaree after a moment, the assassin noting the rumpled clothing finally and makeup that was clearly from the night before, "You look like shit," Vhalla notes out loud, smirking like a cat.
She doesn't have time to make another remark at Askaree as the man who was already shouting at the woman had turned and started shouting at another man. Now there were two men shouting at each other, those very two quite literally pressed chest to chest, spittle flying as they screamed in each other's faces. The smallest frown creases between her brows, how very... boring, to scream in someone's face. Didn't they know that so much more feeling was behind fists? She snorts as a loud sound comes from down the bar, a pink haired woman slamming a god damn baseball bat into the counter of the bar as she shouts at them to take it outside. She's ignored, unsurprisingly, Vhalla's gaze lingering for a moment longer before her gaze drifts back to the shouting men. "I bet you both twenty bucks that neither of them actually throw a punch," she says suddenly, amusement curling around her words as she side glances at both of her companions.
To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered