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
A soft breath left Tetradore's lips as his leaned his head against his forearm, his spine rounded ever so slightly in that slouching position against the bartop. The tumbler in front of him was empty, the ice within it melting to combine with the small bit of whiskey he'd left within it. He'd been effectively 'cut off' from indulging further within the liquor over an hour ago and, tonight at least, the Alpha was hardly inclined to test those oppressive boundaries placed upon him. Overhead, the heavy beat of the bass still reverberated loudly around him, the very sound one he could feel even within his chest. Behind him, however, Syn was a ghost of it's usual glory. So few even wanted to venture out, the pressing fear of the pandemic keeping a large part of their party goers at home. The sight of those few bodies on the large, empty dance floor was almost...laughable, really. Then again, so was his presence here in the first place. Tetradore had been sitting on that exact same barstool for nearly four hours now. It was hardly unusual for Risque to demand his presence within the dance club for no true reason or use for him. She used it, he knew, to remind him of what he was, of what he always would be - her pet. It would have been easy enough to leave and yet, Tetradore knew well the repercussions of departing before she dismissed him....and so...he had simply sat there at the bar with little hope of escaping until dawn beset the city.
The phone on the other side of the bar rang, it's sound barely audible over the noise that surrounded him. Tetradore's head shifted ever so slightly upon his arms, the Alpha glancing towards Ian as the bartender moved to stand in front of him. The vampire's answer was brisque, the utterance of Darcy's name near instantly informed Tetradore of who was on the other end of the phone, his own interest quickly waning. The phone hit the receiver but moments later without even the slightest utterance of 'good bye', though Tetradore was hardly surprised by this. Darcy, after all, was far more inclined to bark his orders without bothering to hear any protest that might be offered. Admittedly, the Were-King had thought decidedly little of that encounter until a glass filled to the brim with blood was placed in front of him with an audible thud. "Darcy wants it while it's still hot." Ian near grunted at him. Tetradore's gaze rose towards the vampire in front of him, the emerald of his irises fluttering towards the cup in front of him before glancing back at the bartender.
That glass of blood dangled lightly from his fingertips as Tetradore was nodded towards the workbench across the room. A soft breath left his lips, the vibrancy of his own gaze near immediately turning to the bench without the slightest contemplation of dropping the glass within his hand. After all, the memory of Darcy's fangs buried deep within his skin was still too fresh upon his mind. How long it had taken him to heal in the aftermath of that night. He had little desire to feel those razor sharp rows of teeth again...not so soon. He placed the cup upon the bench, only to lean against it as his emerald irises turned upwards and towards the tv mounted in the corner. His arms crossed over his chest as he watched Hamilton's car overtake several others in a smooth move that had the commenters near shouting in disbelief, the Alpha entirely oblivious of Darcy's abrupt attention upon him, much less that sharply muttered word for a screwdriver.
It was the shout of his name that drew the vibrancy of his gaze downwards and towards Darcy. That facade of apathy had long since taken over the Alpha's features, those bright green eyes simply staring at the Southerner near vacantly even in spite of those insults hurled at him, much less the mention of those tender years in which he had so struggled to adjust to the new life forced upon him. For a moment, he simply stared at that outstretched hand before, slowly, Tetradore's arms unfolded from his chest. He reached over to pluck the screwdriver he knew Darcy was looking for off the table, passing it silently towards the vampire before his gaze turned back upwards and towards the television screen overhead. At the very least...it was far quieter here then in the dance club above them - those races on the TV preferable to the veritable nothing he had to occupy himself before.
My heart is just to dark too care. I can't destroy what isn't there
so if you love me let me go
Deliver me into my fate & leave me with my sins
If you still care, don't ever let me know