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
Second star to the left, and straight on til' morning |
The concrete jungle was Pan's playground. It didn't matter how he got here, what he'd been through â€" what mattered was the here and now. Here he was, a young boy, high on the thrill of newness and looking for adventure. Now, he was scouring the place with a purpose, his bright eyes twinkling as he picked up small shards of metal and glass, enjoying the way the light caught from the edges. There is a grin on his face, boyish and playful, and as he walked through the deserted streets at sunrise, he hummed a shanty song that he seemed to remember from somewhere... but God knew he couldn't remember where. The fairy boy is in his element, content to be roaming and exploring, albeit a bit lonely. When he tried to think of what had come before, there is only a fuzziness that clouds his mind... but Pan didn't let it bother him. Instead he simply shimmied up the open door of a shipping container, hopping between them with an effortless sort of grace (aided by his wings, though he preferred to believe it was fairydust that made him fly). And here they would find the child, laughing and playing in the streets as if he were born to do so. For if this place was his new Neverland, then Peter Pan would simply adjust to it. He wasn't the type of boy to dwell on what had been... instead he was content to look ahead to brighter horizons. In his wake scurried his only friend, a sleek brown otter that mimicked its master, gathering bright pieces of plastic and broken shards of trash. The two were cut from the same cloth, and Pan smiled at the otter even as he scooped both Oliver and his treasure into the dingy backpack, peering around the corner at shadows and imagining them to be some sort of pirates. "Who's there?" The boy cried to the shadows. "Show yourself, you yellow-bellied coward!" But the curse was yelled with a grin, for Pan could never really harm anyone. The boisterous child tapped his foot impatiently, waiting to see who would step forward into the sunlight. |
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