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 were panther had known the moment he'd turned to engage in the auburn damsel that he was treading recklessly into treacherous territory. The naive girl had walked into a proverbial viper pit and chose the individual most jeopardous to her life to strike up a conversation with. It was a collision course of epic proportions and while Tetradore had known that it was within her best interest for him to feign callous attitude he so often found himself so often exhibiting. Sometimes, however, in this life long prison of solitude and suffering, the were creature actually experienced some kind of...loneliness. It was this seclusion that sometimes made the man make such a audacious risk, knowing full well the consequences should he be caught. Which, quite to his dissatisfaction, he quickly was. It was truly rare, within his world that Tetradore was given even the briefest glimpse of some kind of independence. This was just another reminder that she was always there, omniscient like some demon sent from the depths of hell just to ruin the pieces of his shattered life. A small scowl crossed his features at the feminine voice that probed through the sanctuary that should have been his mind.
It was an annoying pinprick at the base of his skull, the pressure of her magic brushing against him in a fashion he'd become far too familiar with. As much as Tetradore hated it, she was his master and all those decades of perfecting her art made it difficult, if not painful, to ignore her. Over the years, however, he had found his own kind of perfection, the kind that centered within loop holes and technicalities to answer her calls without entirely meeting her stipulations. It was a careful dance they weaved but one they had done for most of his life. Whatever entertainment that his mistress wished to create was hardly anything pleasant, of that Tetradore was certain but he knew already that it was impossible to deny her, despite his best attempts to linger at the bar with his emerald gaze cast into his half empty glass. Her call caused him too much discomfort to ignore for too long and soon he found himself rising with a fictitious simper across his features. He held out his hand towards her, knowing all too well the game he had to play to fulfill Risque's desires. "Would you like to see some of the more extravagant parts of Syn?" He inquired his physic still despite his voiceless encouraging that she deny him.
He knew exactly where to go, he knew the routes that would show her all the best aspects of Syn, the ones that had lost their glamor for him but often caused gasps of awe within their patrons. He knew what route to Risque's office would show her the most exits, he could only hope that maybe she was smart enough to take it. Tetradore led her away from the bar with predatory grace, his hand still holding onto his drink. Tetradore suspected that he would need all the alcohol he could get by the time this evening was over. This was certainly not going to go very well at all.