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
The Alpha's gaze remained focused almost blankly upon his Vector at Henry's inquiry of the Ark's continued existence. It had seemed, at the time, such an obvious choice to replace the boat they lived on with another, far more luxurious model. He had spent hours with the architect, going over every minute detail, even if he had largely left the design choices to those who were far more adept at the art. In the end, the yacht was perfect, or at least, Tetradore had thought so. It seemed the feeling wasn't mutual amongst the pack, however, as Henry sipped thoughtfully upon the liquor he'd poured. The Were-King's eyebrow rose at the very idea of a 'mansion' for the pack. It was hardly the sort of place that could easily house all of Nightshade's activities. It was...illogical in more ways than one, atleast to him. "Why the fuck would I buy a mansion?" He inquired, bluntly, hardly putting together the source of Henry's discontent beyond the simple fact that his Vector was, at the very least, unhappy. Though really, it wasn't as if that was anything new.
The man was often nothing but disagreeable. Their interactions largely focused on all the things Henry thought he was doing wrong - whether it was his preoccupation with his businesses, his busy schedule, or the boat he'd purchased to house the pack. Tetradore had become strikingly used to the notion that very few ever seemed pleased by the Were-King, even in spite of whatever effort he did put in. For not the first time, Tetradore couldn't help but to wonder why he even bothered in the first place.
He listened to the sigh upon Henry's lips as his Vector smoothly finished off his first glass - Tetradore entirely willing to merely nurse his cup, so early in the day. Henry's query was...unexpected and yet it was the very sarcasm upon the word 'family' that caught the Alpha's attention. "You know, Henry, the door's open if you don't want to be here. No one is forcing you to stay on the Ark or in the pack." Choice had always been a cornerstone of the Nightshade's membership. He refused to force any into their little group who did not want to actively be present. He had, perhaps, been a bit too...eager to include Henry and Harley within their ranks. Neither of his Vectors seemed terribly inclined to enjoy their place within the pack. It was a mistake he was willing to admit that he had made. A selfish desire that they might find a sense of belonging here....with him. How quickly Tetradore was beginning to realize how naive he had been.