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
askaree
The smile that rests in such salacious placidity upon the plump cushions of her lips tells faultlessly of the truth that she had not only known he would find her amongst the crowd that pulsed as a living thing about the chainlink ring, but also that he would come to her. They all did eventually, the allure of a pair of C-cups and the ripples of muscle that weaved a lascivious trajectory down the curves of her lithe frame nearly always proved a temptation far too promising for men (and women, lesbi-honest) to forgo. But she, too, caresses the muscular curves of her intended "prey" as he draws nigh to her, indulging the onslaught of recollections of what lay beneath the clothes of the Were king. Perhaps, depending on how the evening unfolded, she could refresh her memory...
A single brow pitches skyward at his query, his presumption. She knew that he had had precious little experience with her, but surely he was more intelligent than to assume that she would have anything to do with the kitty pride knock-off that the hot twins were attempting to rustle up. She had, admittedly, had the misfortune of stumbling upon one of the tattooed miscreants a few weeks prior; sadly, he had proven far less fun than the rumors had promised. "That rag tag group of mine? Come on now, King Puss," she purred, the serpentine smile spreading ever wider upon her exotic features. "Haven't you ever watched the Discovery Channel? Crocodiles don't socialize unless they're fucking, fighting, or feeding... and sadly that little band of merry men couldn't satiate any of my hungers." The rosy tip of her tongue slides ever so gently against the cushion of her top lip as if to punctuate the innuendo of her words.
"I just wanted to see for myself if the rumors were true, if the great Tetradore had defied death." Sarcasm bleeds from her every syllable, though the statement itself held some truth. "But now that I've seen it for myself I have to ask... is this really how you want to squander your 'second chance', hmm? Watching over the squabbles in your little chicken coop?" Askaree closes what little distance lay between them then, dark eyes locking with those of her counterpart, an insidious promise reflected in the glimmer that skates against every twist of color therein. "What if I could promise you a far more fulfilling evening?" The Egyptian minx leans in then, the tempting warmth of her breath brushing against his ear as she whispers what is hardly a request. "Come on, your Majesty, take me to your chariots..."