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.
Black Market
Cull & Pistol
Noah's Ark
Syn
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
Co-owner Tobias Cain
Bar Manager Mira Ramos
Bartender Henry Tudor
Waitress Carolina Bedford
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
Manager Darcy Blackjack
Cats Aiden Tetradore
Cats Harlequin Westward
The amusement the boy takes from batting at the snow leopard is readily observed, a hissing snicker rolling from beneath his jaws as he leaves a bloodied streak of red upon her pelt in his wake, tail flicking lightly to hang down beside him as he continues to balance precariously atop the rail before offering those fractured words with a delightfully casual ease. It is hardly an empty threat, the boy entirely content to do as he has suggested and toss the female overboard, he does not make idle promises- he is incapable of it, his mentality distinctly predatory in all senses, the fate of the intruding female clearly of no concern to the Beta male as he continues to watch her- gaze flicking to Birdie as she speaks.
"it...would be....funnnnn."
He merely lets the word roll upon his tongue, dark gaze rolling back to the snow leopard as he does- that the boy is not entirely sane perhaps evident in these moments before Nadya chooses to make her appearance. A rumbling purr of welcome rolls within his throat, his head lowering and extending briefly to her own, rubbing against her momentarily in evident affection before sitting back up atop his rail once more. He is given to fight with Nadya more than any other member of the pack, their shared rank more often than not seeing both big cats hissing and bristling at the other and yet his affection for her remains still. He understands pack- the bond that exists between them, Nadya the Mother of his children even if it is Raven he has chosen for his permanent company- his bond with the wolfess a truly powerful thing indeed- the creature holding an evident respect for both. A respect that does not extend to the snow leopard before them. Nadya's words are met with little more then a sudden hiss of his own, head shaking now as those eyes roll once more to fixate upon her.
"No. Cat that....is like me.....not allowed."
His words are a direct challenge to her own, Tobias alone holding the authority to challenge her, the deviant boy entirely away of the understanding of hierarchy, his posture shifting once more, near daring the panther to argue with him before he leaps abruptly from the railing to land soundlessly atop the wooden floorboards. Long, languid strides see the boy move, circling around the entire group as they speak, one year flicking as the snow leopard offers her name.
"Grace....Grace....Grace....it is....a....good word."
He repeats her name over and over, as if he enjoys the taste of it, the sound, his pacing halted abruptly beside her once more- the feline content to seat himself right beside the other, pressing deliberately into her space and yet his demeanour has shifted once more. He is a volatile creature, his mood given to fluctuate rapidly from one moment to the next, the young leopard seeming to have shifted to a state more playful once more as he rests beside her.
"Who talks.....about....Ark?"
It is a far more potent question then even Tobias intends it to be, the feline merely speaking the words that first enter his fractured mind as he regards her, head tilting and turning about, his curiosity in her evident before Raven's words draw his attention a final time. She speaks of his medallion then, the gift she had given him, his feline features frowning slightly, unwilling to offer his medallion even to the one whom had given it to him- the boy protective of what he perceives to be his own, territorial even over those inanimate objects he proclaims his belongings.
"It.....is mine....but....maybe Birdie can....borrow.....maybe."
His head nods in assurance, willing to consider her proposal it would seem before his tail flicks suddenly upward to near wrap around the snow leopard he is still seated beside, his manner playful if not slightly dominant in tone- seeking some level of submission from the female beside him perhaps as he speaks once more. The how and why of her presence here evidently irrelevant to him, if not entirely misunderstood.
"Does Grace....want to play....another game?"
He knows many games indeed......
madness, as you know, is like gravity: all it takes is a little push