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
The acrid stench of smoke invaded her nose even as her companions question brought the reality of there being a fire within the Ark into stark focus. Too vivid memories of the blaze which had claimed the first ark flashing in her mind as she mentally scrambled for what to do next. Did she pull the alarm first, should she grab Sly first and call the pack as they went for the stairs? Lists and options raced through her thoughts, and only the oddity of that word he exclaimed could have caught her attention enough to make her pause. Turning just long enough to follow his gaze to the small, flaming figure atop one of the scattered pieces of cardboard; a piece of it burning in their jaws. The rather exaggerated groan that left the Warlock had her aquamarine eyes dancing back and forth between the two wondering what exactly was happening. Imagine her surprise when he issued a command for the little fox to drop what it held, which hardly seemed like the best idea as those charred embers fell to alight the large piece on which is stood so proudly.
Her concern returned with a force until she realized that it somehow seemed limited to that square of material and didn't proceed to light the rest of the office ablaze. Apprehension melted slowly into curiosity as it seemed there was in fact no eminent danger and Sly continued to speak to what was apparently his familiar. She edged towards the pair slowly, trying to assess their relationship even as her questions began. His insistence that his companion was supposed to listen caused a breathy laugh.
Unable to resist, the leopard extended her hand slightly, letting Mihai determine how close the nose which was testing the air around her might come to her fingers. It was odd, to feel the heat coming off of his vulpine form and yet none of the actual discomfort that one might feel holding their hand too close to a candle's flame. Her focus didn't leave the familiar, even as she continued asking questions about his companion assisting him on all those work calls; though her eyes may have danced to meet the bright blue of his own at his soft laugh.
She didn't miss the shift in his features as he seemed to mull over his own words, that the little flame creature was so different than others of his kind.
Another thing she could relate to, truth be told. How long had she lived a life that required her to adjust or change things about herself for a time just to survive. She doubted that assembling furniture for the wealthy was Sly's life goal, despite their earlier jokes, but here he was doing what he needed to do.