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
isolt griffin
For a moment extended by the awkwardness of the silence that has preceded it, Isolt is of the idea that she has failed in her attempts to distract him and, to some extent, to distract herself. The auburn-haired woman could have never boasted having much talent for things like this, Harley having always seemed the one to possess the proper words... the words that fit; it had, indeed, been a dynamic that had served their friendship well even during the shared childhood from whence it had blossomed. Fortunately for the flame-locked girl, responsiveness comes of her impromptu emerald-eyed counterpart... if only just.
The delicate canvas of her brow is set to crinkling with the frown that suggests at her elegant features as he presumes to tell of her what her preferences for this new locale might have been. It is a small thing, and subtle, yet Isolt finds some offhanded aversion in the manner in which he feels he might presume knowledge of even this minute thing regarding her personality. The one genuine moment the two had shared, current moment aside, had been swiftly and deftly eclipsed by the terror that he seemed to personify... a flame that had been snuffed in its infancy, suffocated by circumstance and forces far beyond the young woman's control or understanding. However, Isolt chokes back the comment that rises as a tide of bile to sting her tongue with its acidity, momentarily placated by the innocence of his comment and her general dismay for confrontation of any sort.
What cannot be ignored or assuaged by forced placation are the comments that follow, accented by sad laughter and poignant melancholy. They had, all of them, been forced to endure the nightmarish confines of Syn and Risque's seemingly insatiable desire to cause them pain, to look on as they suffered by her hand... and so their escape should have heralded a wave of relief, of gratitude for the second chance they had been afforded. Isolt had toiled much with her own melancholy in an effort to see the silver linings offered by this new life, to count whatever blessings lay hidden beyond the veil of death... to little avail. And perhaps it is for this reason that she cannot glean why he remains within the confines of his own brooding indifference: he was alive, he had forged the path to his own freedom, and most of all he had been reunited with his family... something Isolt would never know, something she would never feel again. The thought causes her eyes to dip for a lingering moment, something far off and pained glimmering beneath the clear blue surface as she finds his gaze once more. Her words, when they alit upon her tongue, are soft, attentive. "But you're free now, Tet. You have control over where you end up... some people don't have that. Some people aren't as lucky as we have been." A pause draws its silence between them, during which the fledgling vampire's eyes travel to the sea shell rolling delicately between the soft pads of her fingers. It is a matter of much debate as to whether Isolt truly might deem herself fortunate, lucky, and yet for his sake she seems content to voice it as if it were axiomatic truth. "And if you're going to be in a place like Syn, make it better... make it yours."