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
Through the miasma of the faerie blood's spell there was little beyond the euphoric abandon that could be rightly deciphered. It was reckless sensation and desire, wanton encouragement for the portion of herself never truly allowed to blossom for fear of retribution. And yet even still the barest doubt that he would not return her advances, that this man she revered so highly did not harbor the same fondness that she did, that he did not desire the same things that she desired, flickered there in the titillating smog. That is, until the masculine rumble of his groan seemed to jolt a most pleasurable shiver down the curved length of her spine, the crimson-haired girl bolstered by the implications of even this most simplistic utterance, the softest moan purring against his own lips in response. In the deepest sanctuary of her private thoughts Isolt had returned time and again to the memory of that night upon the hillside, she recalled the taste, the feel, of his lips with a clarity that surprised even her. Yet here, now, her body sizzling from within, the sensation of him was a thing wholly beyond even what she had remembered.
Which makes the interruption and Chaz's arrival all the more tragic.
She would have gladly had the brash young man forget her entirely, especially after their one and only encounter all those months prior; however, the axiomatic truth of memory's binding threads has woven itself with the envy gleaming wantonly within his eyes, envy and something more... sinister as his gaze lingers upon Damon for an uncomfortable moment before he dares answer. "Actually, I think my timing is perfect," he almost grumbles as the beer clutched between his fingers is brought in an agonizingly slow arc to his lips before he brushes off the inquiries of her partner. "I'm just out to find some action... and it looks like I did." It is then that his eyes traverse the short line to Isolt's figure, the parched manner in which he eyes her a decidedly unsettling thing as her fingers clasp tighter against Damon's own, seeking comfort and assurance from perhaps the only individual who could successfully provide it. The young vampire shifts, her lithe frame easing ever closer to that of her most trusted counterpart as irrefutable evidence of the unease that blooms within.
Chaz draws himself closer to her then, the stench of alcohol upon his breath crinkling the delicate features of her facade with the displeasure of this and his advances. "So, Isolt, how about a drink and a dance, hmm?" Even then are her cherried lips absent the syllables that beg to be uttered, the cerulean of her eyes meandering leisurely over the not-unattractive curvatures of his face before she simply releases Damon's hand... and coils her arm around her elder's waist to draw herself perfectly into the natural curve of his side. Only then does she glance up to him, her eyes searching the endless grey depths of his own for... something, anything, the true measure of which cannot rightly be said. Ivory teeth rake gently against the luscious cushion of her bottom lip as a smile heralds forth but a single word. "No."