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
Nick hated cars. He despised them. They made him sick and nervous. The thought of controlling thousands of pounds of metal, moving at whatever speed you want; how was that not terrifying to more people? He absolutely refused to ever get his license. Sure, he knew how to drive, but he'd only do it in emergencies. Poor Oleander was almost always forced to drive.
Always.
He sighs, looking at her little Honda and just gives her a look of complete despair and resentment. Not resentment towards her; the damn car. Just tough it out and then fun. Tough it out.
Getting in, he grabs the handle bar above the door as he always did, the only security feeling he felt in these things. Then he places one boot on the dashboard, the seat completely stretched back for his long legs. "I really hope we never get into an accident in this thing. I might get crunched up into a ball and you'll have to roll me around." He starts messing with the radio, trying to find something with a good beat and bass. "Fucking death trap. I hate this thing." Talking to a car? It made him feel better! He's unable to find anything good and just sighs again (though to be honest he flicked through the stations in a matter of seconds), even more annoyed now. "I actually have no plan ... Like, I have no idea where the bars are or clubs or what's even here... Shit."
This was a time when he really wished he had a cell phone to look up such things. Then he snaps his fingers the moment the idea strikes him. "Dude, call your new buddy. You just came from a party, I bet they might still wanna keep it going! Or at least know some places! Do it! DO IT!" He starts reaching over, teasingly tickling her ribs and trying to feel where her cell was. "DO IT OR I'LL CALL THEM MYSELF! I MEAN, I DON'T KNOW THEIR NAME BUT I'LL JUST RANDOMLY PICK SOMEONE AND CALL THEM!" The elderly man was looking out his window at them, the car rocking back and forth.
They hadn't even started driving yet. Nick hadn't even started drinking. This was going to be an interesting and probably tragic night for poor Ollie.