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 looked like a girl from out of the pictures. You know, like the screen from his airplane seat. One of those types - hand-sculpted to be something special. He could see it in her striking emerald eyes and the way her wavy locks drifted down her shoulders, even when they moved imperfectly to cover one side of her quite actually perfectly chiseled jawline. There were pretty people and then there were the people from the pictures. The made-up girl was for sure made up. They don't even make the pictures people this pretty. Ben's thick, and oil-smeared brows furrowed together, creating deep crater lines in his forehead as he stared at her again, trying to will her to dissipate before his very eyes. It wasn't that he wanted her to go - she was after all, quite something to look at - but there was that fleeting bit of lucidity still in him that begged for some balance and control of his day. If he could convince himself she was just a dream, at least he knew for sure. He needed to know something with certainty. Just one thing. But instead of disappearing, she offered him her name. "Em." He repeated out loud, his smile growing. Part of him was quite happy about his failure to make her float away. His blue eyes followed hers curiously as she exchanged the notes, pulling green American dollars from her purse and placing them on the table. He nodded in agreement, the whispers of the worried waitress fluttering with relief... but perhaps only inside his head. "Much obliged." Emerance stirred and stood from the table and Ben could feel his heartbeat quickening in his chest. don't go. don't go. don't go. The grief was already setting in when she turned to him and extended the invitation. Ben couldn't hide his merriment... and scoffed an audible laugh at his luck as he scrambled to his feet. Most of his clothes had dried by now, in haphazard patterns, leaving behind stale and stiff dark blotches in areas that really didn't make much sense. But at least he wasn't so ... damp. He followed the pretty girl out of the diner, grinning wildly to the chefs who peered out at him skeptically from the kitchen window. "Can you believe my luck?" He said to them, transporting the message through his wild blue eyes and into the confines of their own heads. They looked at each other dumbfounded as Ben rushed to get to the glass door first, nearly falling as he pushed it open for her. Out on the street, Ben's confidence waned quickly. The whispers were much louder at this hour, with more people walking the streets. He waited for Emerance to take the lead, shoving his gloved palms into the pockets of his dirty jeans. "Is River Dale nice then, yeah?" Ben Collins | Fairy | Vinyl |