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
Just play dead...he will have to concede." Like hell she would. Her fingers wrapped around his coat, strength lingering in that right fist as she tugged him over the line with her. The frown that darkened his features followed by that look of disapproval almost had her retreating a step like a child, instead, she'd moved further off to the side to take stock of her injuries, the big bear of a man now faced Brennan instead of her.
She had faith that her...friend...could at least hold him off for a little while, enough for her to do...what? Get even more hurt? Die? How the fuck did she even get in here to begin with. She watched the pair in the middle as her right hand lifted to probe at her left, a grunt leaves her lips at what she finds but she knows there isn't anything she can do about it. The crowd became louder, the words indescipherable as they blended into one -- all cheering for her blood -- for his blood too.
The bear-man swiped, he was a large man and he likely relied on brawn over speed and he was used to getting what he wants. But in this case, Brennan was faster - but how long could his energy hold out? Her memory was years old, a childs perspective -- of course he could handle it then..he could do anything, right?
But one of the swipes came just a little too close for her comfort. Her gaze drops from the two men to look around her to see if there was anything she could use against the burly man -- her purse, her good hand and...her shoes. She drops her head back to look at the ceiling as a giant sigh leaves her lips, there's only a slight hesitation before she's whirling towards the two men again. Swipe, duck, swipe, duck -- she could see it, see where the big man was going to go next and she just didn't like how close he got to Brennan.
Ash shifts on her feet before she draws a breath in, a feral cry leaving her lips as she takes a running leap at the man-bear, she grunts as she hits into his back and the heel of her shoe comes down on top of him, the end of her heel having melted into a sharp spike either during her run or at impact. The big man roars, Ash's shoe stuck somewhere in his back as she hits the ground with a grunt, the wind knocked out of her -- blood spurts as he tries to remove the spike in his back, arms flailing even as rage now darkened the mans eyes.
The man-bear half turns to see what the commotion was, what was going on as his eyes land on the teenager. Ash watches as his lips peel back in a snarl and she uses her good arm to start scooting herself back, her fingers running over the dirt as if frantically searching for something. Those blue eyes find Brennan's, fear rising in their depths even as she backs away, unable to say anything through her too tight throat.