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
She could read the pain in his eyes and his voice when he spoke of Nadya and their past. It was obvious he still cared about her a lot and wished things had been different. She couldn't continue beating him up when he looked so damn sad about it. She decided right then that this wasn't her battle. Nadya and Tetradore needed to clear things up between themselves. No one could do that for them. Front now on, she needed to learn to but out, apparently. She nodded in acknowledgement more than anything, sure that he wanted to let this conversation go just as much as she did by now. She knew there was a lot of past between Tetradore, Frost, and Nadya. Probably a lot that she didn't want to hear or she feared it might change her opinions of any or all of them. She didn't want that. Maybe living in ignorance was better sometimes. Maybe the past was better left there...in the past. She would never admit that probably the most important part of talking to him tonight was to ask him about herself. She felt selfish for it but she didn't care. Nadya had hinted that he might only be befriending her, continuing to hang out with her only because he wanted something on Frost. She didn't want to believe that of Tetradore but even as she uttered the question, she knew what the answer would be. He assured her that he was trying to get her warmed up to him first and she snorted, her eyes finding humor at that. "Yeah right, like I could ever 'warm up' to you then. You were a stuffy panther, all prim and proper. Nothing like the man I met in the bar." She smirked, remembering that night and the fun they had. That is, until she passed out. It felt almost like he was scolding her when he reminded her that the other pack members could speak false truths. She knew he probably didn't mean it that way but still it felt like the smack of a ruler on a child's hand in class. She didn't flinch or back down though. She never would. Instead she just tilted her head. "Noted." She answered in response. When she admitted her own weakness, he apologized and she shook her head. "Nothing for you to apologize for." Then she brought up the fighting and he snorted, telling her she would get used to the rocking. She scowled. "I doubt I could ever get used to it." Then he shifted from the couch and she stood up, somehow aware that he was going to go somewhere. He moved toward her, teasing at her about her apology and she smirked back. "You bet you will." She murmured. At his head nudge, she nodded. "Sure. I'd like to see the scene of the crime where I'll kick your silly panther ass some day." Snickering, she moved to trail after him, her tail swishing in amusement. |