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
you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared
"Shit," she mumbles, wincing in pain as she pushes a hand into her side, feeling the warm blood coat her freezing hands. Vhalla doesn't look down to inspect it, nor would she be able to in the thick of the night. Huddling on the roof top, her eyes watch the men scatter below her, shouting orders at each other to find her. A grim smile toys at the corner of her luscious lips as she reaches up and pulls her hood over her head, concealing her braided white hair. Again, she winces at the stretching of the wound, biting her lower lip to conceal a groan that so wanted to escape her. Peering down once more, she watches the men slowly begin to dissipate, each taking an alleyway to search for her. Brows furrowing, she removes her hand long enough from her side to climb over the edge of the roof and use the ladder to quickly descend.
The second her boots hit the pavement, she takes off at a sprint, losing herself in the crowd before she slows to a walk. Clenching her jaw, she takes her hand and places it at her side once more, to prevent a trail of blood that would surely be there if she didn't continue to apply that pressure. Weaving herself through the crowd, she senses one of the men behind her, eyes focused on her but not entirely sure if she was the woman they were looking for, careful to keep her hood drawn, she slows her steps to a saunter. That leathery black suit gripping her womanly body, hardly leaving much to the imagination as the beating sound of music reaches her ears. Icy eyes glance up, noting a line outside of the club she can feel the man approaching her.
Whether it was luck on her side or not, she notes a messy brown haired man within that line, his familiar rugged face in a sea of strangers. Abruptly changing her pace, she stalks towards him, that mocking grin breaking across her face just as she reaches out and envelops her calloused hand within his, tugging him out of line and towards the front. Glancing back at him, "Hey, babe, let's go" she calls to him, her eyes narrowing at him urging him to play along as she tightens her grip on his hand. Turning back to the bouncer, she glances up at the man, batting a pretty little smile at him who merely steps out of her way and allows them entrance into the club. The second they walk through the doorway, there's a commotion at the door as Vhal spins around, her bloody hand removing from her side as she watches the men try to wrestle their way into the club.
"Time to go," she shouts over the blaring music as she tugs him quickly into the crowd of bodies stopping just at the center of the dance floor, bodies swaying and grinding around them. "I need you to put your hand here and push hard," she raises her voice over the noise, guiding his hand to her wound on her side, wincing as he puts pressure there. Slinging her arms around his neck, as if they were no more than two people dancing, her body press close to his. She flinches again as he shifts his hand, that stinging sensation spreading through her body, "Don't move your hand," she snaps at him, her breathing becoming a bit more labored.
Eyes darting around the crowd, she's suddenly aware that at least one of the men made it past the bouncer. Watching him closely as he prowls through the crowd, shoving through couples and dancers roughly, Vhalla's eyes snap back to Laz, "Sorry for this," she says just loud enough for him to hear before she closes the distance between then and plants her luscious lips against him, their faces hidden within the confines of her hood.
Vhalla Solarn
To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered