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
I'm Loosing My Soul
Pushing me to the edge of my decline
Conversational skills had, admittedly, never truly been Tetradore's strong point. At a young age, whisked away from the sanctuary of his parental figures, he had learned the painful lesson of how little words were desired of him. And now, years later, the stoic silence in which he so often retreated to had become a sanctuary of safety that he struggled to break, even to this day. Despite his straightforward answer, however, Tetradore was well aware of that aura of dissonance that radiated from his Vector, though he had little reason to believe it had anything to do with him. After all, Henry had made it rather known to most how his break up was affecting him, even if Tetradore was ill inclined to join in any sort of gossip of any kind. He sipped upon the hard liquor within his tumbler, the beverage settling warmly in his empty stomach. He had almost considered leaving Henry to his woes when a rather blunt question fell from the man's lips, drawing the weight of Tetradore's gaze.
For a moment, the Alpha stared blankly at his companion before his eyebrows furrowed. "What...?" He inquired, failing to make any sort of connection with Henry's question. Why a yacht? "There's not exactly a lot of renovated cargo ships just laying around to buy...?" He commented, after all, Tetradore had certainly checked. The Ark had been a unique endeavor by its previous Alpha before Tetradore had come to acquire it. This yacht was, in turn, the Were-King's own effort to provide a home for his pack even if he kept the signature name. "I liked what the architect for this boat proposed. There is nothing quite like it on the open ocean." It had hardly occurred to him, the connection that Henry drew between this boat and the one upon which he'd had his fateful encounter with his ex. After all, why should it? This boat was nothing like Henry's, excluding the classification of 'yacht'. Everything about the Ark was so uniquely considered for their pack's enjoyment alone - from the swimming pool, to the girl's massive library and the large theater room. It was a haven meant for them, albeit one Henry seemed unwilling to accept from sheer stubbornness.