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.

What You'll Find Here

Black Market
Cull & Pistol
Noah's Ark

Black Market

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.

What You'll Find Here

Edge of the Circle

Cull & Pistol

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

Noah's Ark

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

'Cause you're my Mississippi princess, your're my California queen (Risque)

Posted on December 27, 2018 by Darcy Blackjack
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He angled his head backward again. Eyeing his own reflection in that mirror. Darcy's mismatched gaze travelling the length of those scars that ran from just below his jaw, down the left side of his neck and ended at the place where neck and torso joined. Those wounds were almost totally healed. Another day and the scars would be gone. Fucking finally. It had taken....a damn long time, days, maybe even a week- he'd lost count. Longer than any other wound he'd ever had in his vampiric form in the least. Tetradore's acid had slowed that healing dramatically. Worse than that, it had continued to infect and ravage that new flesh he grew over and over again like some fucking demonic parasitic virus, scorching those exposed nerve endings for hours on end until the pain of it had near threatened to drive him mad. His body's herculean efforts to heal had put a strain on him in other ways in turn. His utter craving for blood over that healing process having increased tenfold to meet those newfound demands on his system. That good blood his darling Risque had rewarded him with had made a significant difference and yet even he knew her generosity would not extend for days on end. Those private bloods were so rarely shared to begin with. To be given even one of those bottles had been a privilege he was not willing to sully by asking for more. Darcy instead choosing to ravage the bar just before each dawn when it closed. In the least he had managed to dispose of that stock they hadn't sold and likely couldn't attempt to resell the next night. Blood only kept for so long after all. His starvation might as well be put to good use.

He stepped away from that mirror then, black boots scuffing at the floor before he reached for a black t-shirt, collared tonight, not only to hide those scars as best as he was able but to add just a little class to his appearance in turn. Tonight was a special night, after all. He had missed not one but two nights of work this week- and he intended to rectify that sin. Risque had blessed him with the evening off the night he had returned from fetching Tetradore from his little fucking joy ride. Yet, he had been forced to request a second when no one could stand the sight of his neck the following evening and that combination of agony and hunger had rendered him even less patient with those around him then normal and unable to focus on his work. He could count on one hand the amount of evenings he had ever taken off in all the years he had walked beside his mistress and now....Tetradore had forced him take that unintended leave. It was always Tetradore. That very growl rose near unbidden in his own throat at even the thought of that pathetic Panther his beloved so insisted on keeping. Tetradore the single and only thing Risque and himself had ever truly disagreed on in all those years. She knew how he loathed that cat. She knew how his jealousy tore at him, he was sure of it, and yet still she showered her attention and affections upon Tetradore as if Darcy was hardly there to receive them. Tetradore hardly even having the sense to appreciate that honour he was given! She knew too, surely, how his own....aggression toward that panther only continued to bubble and boil and twist inside him. That rage becoming harder and harder to contain over the years and yet still he did it. For her. Because it was her right to do as she pleased- and his job to accept it. Tetradore would die eventually anyway. Perhaps it was that he should focus on. Age, if nothing else, would take him one day, wouldn't it? Then order would be restored to the world and Risque would be his alone once more. To love. To adore. The way it was supposed to be. The way it had been before.....Tetradore.

Darcy reached for that leather jacket then, slipping it into place over his shoulders before letting it hang loose. Risques appreciation of a leather jacket hardly lost upon him. The vampire reached for that red and black box resting on his desk then, letting it dangle by that ribbon from his fingertips before he made his way out of his room and downstairs. He navigated those back corridors with ease, several other vampires hastening out of his way, two smaller Were Cats scrambling out off his sight in turn. While Risque reigned at the top of that metaphorical totem pole, all those beneath her were left to fend for themselves and claw for their own positions in that hierarchy. Darcy long ago having established himself as the dominant male in that carnival of undead and Were alike she ruled over. Each of them clearing well out of his path as he made his way toward her office. That utter stench of fear almost overwhelming as he rounded that final corner. Hmm. His beloved was not alone tonight it seemed, or at least, someone was due for a meeting with her. The man lingering outside her office was as pale as death itself. A...warlock if his scent was anything to go by and yet Darcy hardly questioned Risques business with such a being tonight. Whoever he was he seemed to be trying to find the nerve to knock on that door. His sweat having stained his shirt. Oh how unimpressed she would be with this pathetic offering of man.

"Ya know, she can already smell ya. She already knows yar 'ere."

That warlock leapt violently sideways at the sound of his voice, his eyes darting from that closed office door to Darcy and back again as if trying to decide which was the worse fate. Either the man had business here, or he had been summoned, neither boded well for him. Darcy allowed that easy, unsettling smile to spread across his own lips. The Warlocks heart skipping two beats at the sight of those doubled fangs before he near collided with the wall in an effort to to prevent himself touching the vampire as he passed. Maybe the damned fool would have a heart attack while he waited and save them all the damn effort of cleaning up after him once Risque had grown tired of watching him squirm. His own hand rapped against that door before those melodious lyrics so invited him in. Darcy closing that door behind him. The scent of her was far more welcomed and far more potent now. His demeanor shifting, as it so often did, in her presence alone. That gift still dangling from his fingertips. Darcy not foolish enough to come empty handed.

"Hey, Darlin'."

That easy greeting fell from his lips as it always did in those sweetly southern tones, a submissive dip off his head given in turn before he strode easily forward to place that gloriously decorated box of red and black upon her desk. Risque so eternally favouring those fancy, flamboyant things when it came to decoration. Red and black always suitable colours. That box moved slightly off its own accord atop the table as he gestured for her to open it. He had missed two nights of work. Even if one had been gifted to him the other had not- that was unfavourable. The vampire determined to return himself to her good graces and quickly. Well over a century at her side having taught him it was better to play on the side of caution when it came to her moods. His appearance tonight an unspoken display off his good health once more. That gift an apology of sorts for his own.....weakness in the time taken to heal and too- for so subjecting her to the sight of him and his wounds those nights prior- even if she had found fascination in them. Those accented tones echoing once more as her eyes fell upon his offering.

"Jus' like ya wanted, eyebrows an all. Young too, ya can train 'em real good an just da way ya like. All obedient like."

Those two clouded leopard kittens peered near curiously out of that box, their faces marked with those bizzare 'eyebrow' markings he had heard his beloved mention she desired more than once. Those two new editions to her feline collection sure to earn him at least some token of that affection he utterly craved from her. His mismatched gaze of blue and green shifting from those kittens then to the two, neat stacks of notes resting within that box beside them.

"Das your cut of what I made dis week- plus extra for dem nights I missed."

How well Darcy knew his job. The vampire ensuring she received her half off his winnings with that extra on the side to make up for those two nights he had been absent. She would expect nothing less and he was not in a habit of disappointing her. His gaze once more lingering upon her then with that same utter....obsession it always did as he so waited to see just how that gift would be judged.

d a r c y
and i'll stay alive, just to follow you home