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
Having been a creature for as long as I have, I've come to rely heavily on body language so the absence of anything to show his intentions is both puzzling and and frustrating. When I face a cat, they should be snarling and hissing, trying to swipe at me with large sharp claws but instead he merely watches me like I'm an experiment or something. I am NO ONE'S experiment. I know when I need to get lost and this is right on the edge of one of those scenarios. This cat may not be blocking my way off this ship but I'm betting if I just make a run for it, he'll be hot on my heels and I can't outrun him. That might mean I have to at least disable him long enough to get a good head start. One on one fights is what I excel in. My bite is a lot bigger than it looks so I'm used to throwing others off by my small size. I can't see the arena past him to know that he puts himself in a fight on a regular basis. I fight for survival, not for sport, mostly because everyone in the pack refuses to fight me. I started off as an Omega in the pack but that didn't last long. I've always had a temper so when two coyotes tried to gang up on me, mad because they lost the pheasant they were hunting, it wasn't long before I snapped. I ended up breaking both back legs on one coyote and snapping the other's neck when bit down and shook. Ever since, I've been holding my punches, so to speak, only biting down hard enough to get the job done in the fights since to get to where I am now in the pack. Most of the other females fear me and the males all vy for Caesar's spot so they can mate with me but not even he has had that privilege. I know I should feel honored to carry on the strongest lines in the pack but I don't know, it just doesn't feel right. I'm not even really attracted to Caesar. Sure, he's strong and fast and he takes care of me but I don't know how to explain it. He's just not my type. I don't even know if I have a type. I've never had someone touch my mind besides someone in the pack and usually it's in one word answers like "food there" or "rest here" or "hungry." Never is there a whole sentence or in this case, question, formed in my mind like someone's talking to me or something. So I react out of fear, though quickly it boils into anger because I'm not a fearful creature. I've refused to let fear in for long ever since I was a lost pup. Then, I let the fear eat me up inside but I learned that I had to accept it and move on to survive so that's exactly what I did. Now I accept my fear but refuse to let it control me. Now I'm just pissed that the cat can somehow get into my mind like I'm some feline puppet or something. I don't know how he did it but I'm not about to stick around and find out. The moment he's gone from my mind, I feel my body relax a little more, though only enough to give me the freedom to find my strength to attack so I can get the hell out of here. He leaps backwards just in time as I lunge forward, his hackles finally standing up as his long skinny tail flicks. He roars loudly and it actually gives me pause, not having expected him to have such a loud roar. Guess I haven't been around a lot of panthers. My eyes start to dart, looking for that escape again when I notice the people starting to turn around to see what's going on. The last thing I want is someone else getting involved, especially not a disgusting human. My ears flatten more and my tail flicks again in agitation. But the cat has a new trick for me. I lunge for his legs and I find my jaws snapping on pure air. My eyes snap open, looking for him and confusion is evident in my gaze when I see him in the dark opening of the Ark, not where he should have been. What the...? I snarl at the new turn of events, my anger only elevating. "Fight fair!" my snarl seems to be saying. I'm even more agitated because he's in my way of escaping this hell hole now. What the heck did I get myself into? I shift my weight from foot to foot, my eyes darting, trying to find another means but there's too many humans in here. I arch up my back and let out another snarl, daring anyone to come closer because I'll start taking off legs on my way out of here. I refuse to stand down. But then as I lock gazes with the large black cat again, I find myself sudenly...drifting as if day dreaming. A part of me is still fighting, trying to overcome whatever this is because I know it's not natural. I shouldn't be day dreaming at a time like this. I have to fight! But somehow it seems okay to just let go...to let myself relax. I feel my hackles smooth back down, my lips pulling back over my fangs as I blink a few times, staring into the haunting green gaze of the panther. The idea suddenly comes to me that perhaps I should follow him, leave the ship like I wanted to. I find myself walking slowly toward him as if in a dream, my eyes strangely vacant and soothed. |