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

you can make a couple calls, tell your brother I'm in town

Posted on January 10, 2019 by Darcy Blackjack
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It so never ceased to amaze him just how anything so....fragile as a mortal being continued to persist in life. He could hear the erratic, frantic, flapping beat of the warlocks heart as it all but exploded within the man's frail rib cage. That tempting, tantalizing pulse beating with that same frantic rhythm beneath that paper-thin skin as the Warlock flailed within his grasp and struggled for air as that shirt began to press more and more ardently into his throat. Mortality was so very...fragile. Yet how Darcy relished in it in turn. That decidedly predatory part of himself positively reveling in the fear and frantic heartbeat that coxed only more and more of that tempting blood to course through the man's system until he was all but flooded with it. Each and every reaction from that terrified little man only further coaxing that decidedly animalistic part of the vampire to the surface and yet- for Risque alone he so maintained some tendril of that control he might have otherwise allowed to falter in his determination to destroy this little mite of a man who had dared to walk upon his territory and permeate it with the stench of sweat and disappointment. Darcy, when it suited him, entirely capable of displaying control. Risque's very presence demanding some level of decorum from the Southern vampire if only because his desire to please her outweighed even his hunger. Yet- that desire to torment the little man existed still. Darcy readily lowering his own head to inhale his scent, to find that treacherous vein that would so easily give up the man's life if punctured- and allow the tip of his tongue to run along it.

How that little man screamed as if he truly had been bitten. Darcy sweeping his tongue from shoulder to jaw line despite that decidedly....salty taste. A deep chuckle resonated within his throat as he so finally lent away. The warlock at last silencing his scream. That sound decidedly high pitched for a man. How irritating. It was those swee, sensual lyrics that so drew his attention once more then. Darcy's mismatched gaze turned away from his little prisoner to focus back upon his mistress as Risque so alluded to the promise of more. A rarely seen simper dared to pattern itself across the vampires features in response to those suggestive lyrics. How good she as to him. How he would enjoy it to. Yes. He was surely still her favourite if she so promised him more. That though oddly soothing somehow. Even if it so failed to help his victim. The warlock, lifted from the ground by the scruff off his shirt now, continued to flail. Darcy content, several times, to lower the man toward the ground to allow merely his toes to sweep the carpet- if only to watch his legs run in search of the floor again like a mere mouse in the paw of a cat. That sudden chiding however, brought an abrupt halt to that very game. Darcy's gaze flicked upward to rest on Risque in a fleeting displeasure at having his game ruined. Apprehend him, she said, not strangle him.
"Yes, Ma'am."

He uttered simply, if not a touch reluctantly, lowering that warlock back onto his feet. Darcy willing to yield to Risque and Risque alone. His grip upon the warlocks shirt failed to lessen all the same as Risque so insisted that man be paid. That very air of anticipation nearly addictive now. How well he knew that woman. How well he knew what was surely to come. Those kittens too- seemed to hold a ready hunger as that stood upon the very edge off her desk with a clear curiosity in their victim. Darcy gesturing towards them then. Their eagerness almost cute, he supposed, in as much as he ever found anything 'cute'. Cats, despite his beloved's adoration for them, had never managed to sustain his attention in nearly the same fashion. The vast majority of them, in his opinion, nothing but wastes of fucking space and yet Risque near seemed to dote on them like.....children. At least when they pleased her. How fucking irritating it was to watch her fawn over them. Stealing that attention that was rightfully his. Those very leopard kits, in the least, seemed to serve the purpose of delighting her all the same as she near cooed over them and their clear want for the man who writhed in his gasp.

She strode forward then, lithe and graceful, Darcy tugging that warlock to force him to stand a little more upright in the presence of that vampire queen. Darcy content to watch with a near sickening fascination as Risque offered those tormenting words before reaching out to seize the warlocks jaw. Those suttered protests as feeble as rainwater to a lake. He watched her then as she shoved one bill after another between the warlocks jaws with that command not to bite, practically stuffing his mouth with those very bills he'd dared to ask for. The little man making an attempt to bite at her fingers all the same as she chastised him again. Darcy's free hand lifted, only to smack across the back of the warlocks head in punishment for daring to disobey Risque's command. Darcy nothing if not eager to see her will carried out- especially if it offered him the chance to lash out at something he despised.

"She said no bitin'."

Risque stepped back a few moments later to eye her masterpiece. That vampiric Queen seeming satisfied with her efforts before her sensual gaze fell upon Darcy himself once more. That hellion's attention quick to return to her like an ever attentive puppy before its master. Those very words she offered him nothing short of pleasing. Darcy well aware of what he was being given permission to do. How generous of her to provide him a toy. It had been far to long. That insistence she desired to see him work only further satisfying those strange, carnal desires he had for her attention and yet even he hardly anticipated that sudden show off her fangs before that perceived the plush pillow off her bottom lip. The scent of her blood ensnaring him like a siren call within mere seconds. The very pupils of his mismatched gaze near dilating in a fashion purely predatory at that scent. One intermingled with hunger and want and that far more sexual need all at once. Risque's blood was a rare and coveted treat he was so rarely rewarded with. His fangs reaped so much destruction and pain she did not often allow him to bite her even when nestled between the sheets off her bed. His lips parted near involuntarily, his tongue stroking along his own fangs in near the same fashion Risque's hands stroked her beloved cats when seeking to soothe their wants. For that singular moment even the man within his grasp was forgotten.

She dared glide closer then. Risque herself perhaps the only being daring enough to tease Darcy in turn when most so shrunk away from his presence and yet he was near bewitched by that very scent as she circled about them like the very temptress she was. He remained attentive to her every move. Her fingers dragged upward against his side as if commanding the very nerves between those clothes to life- only to have them respond as eagerly as always before she slid behind him, pressing against his back. Darcy more than willing to lean softly into her embrace as she uttered those tempting words- only to press those bloodied lips to the back off his neck. That scent intoxicating. That volatile cocktail of emotions within him so expertly stirred to life as she plucked at each one off his strings like an instrument she knew how to play only too well as she slid away and back to her desk. How much he desired to reach behind himself and paint that blood upon his fingers if only to taste it. How he relished in having her attention all to himself, in having her-. That warlock jerked suddenly forward in some desperate bid for freedom. Darcy's fingers still holding fast upon his shirt and yet that very jerk had jolted the vampires attention, intruded upon those fantasies of his mind a second time and spiked that utterly volatile temper for the second and last time.

How utterly and horrendously dangerous Darcy was within the presence off his Mistress. Perhaps even more so when near baited like a prized pit bull at a dog fight with the scent off her blood to coax that possessive territorialism to the surface once more. That snarl was near instinctive, that reaction equally so and blindingly fast as the warlock was jerked backward and against him. That little man so barely given the chance to blink, oblivious to his crime of interrupting those dark, twisted daydreams of the man who held him. Darcy content to do as he did best in that moment and ravage. His lips pulled back from those wicked doubled fangs, Darcy's mouth parting in the same moment the warlock was jerked back against him only for those horrific fangs to seize the man's right ear- and tear the unfortunate appendage right off his head. That blood came like a crimson fountain. Those screams following in nearly exactly the same manner even around that money. That bloodied ear was spat from Darcy's lips a moment later. The feline that lounged beneath Risque's desk only to delighted for such a prize.

Darcy's hand released upon that warlock, the man crumpling to his knees and clinging to his head in some desperately useless attempt to stem that blood flow as the vampire merely rolled his shoulders, shrugging that leather jacket off and tossing it onto that chair he had occupied earlier in an effort to keep it from becoming...bloodied. Darcy left only in that black collared shirt and and dark pants now. The little warlock continued to howl (as best he could) upon the floor. Darcy eyeing the man near curiously and yet his features remained decidedly....blank. A creature contemplating his task. His tongue parted his lips again, brushing across them, tasting that blood- before the vampire abruptly moved again in a veritable blur of speed to the mortal eye. The sheer force with which he struck that warlock echoing in the vile sound of cracking, snapping bone. The little man was left wavering in place, silent now, that shock far to great to produce any sound from him as Darcy held that newly severed right arm within hands as if contemplating that very appendage. His back to his victim once more and yet a ready grin had found its way to his bloodied lips now. Darcy readily seeming to enjoy his new game before his gaze cut sideways again. That low whistle sounded sharply from his lips. Risque's panther hurrying from beneath the desk at that sound for its prize. Darcy holding it just out of reach.

"Ah, ah, ah. Manners. Sit."

That hulking cat sat obediently. It's tail lashing in anticipation. Darcy tossing it that promised limb it was only too eager to grasp before diving back beneath the desk. Those kittens, desperately curious, attempting to find a way down from that desk to join their new comrade. Their mews a near striking....innocence to the rest of that scene that followed. Darcy content to come at warlock again and again and again. Those specialized fangs tearing him apart piece by bloodied piece each time he passed. A chunk of shoulder, a slab of side, a slice of his back each spat from Darcy's lips one after the other, his tongue licking up those droplets of blood that dared to run. That warlock still mercilessly alive and yet wavering horrible along that line off life and death itself. Darcy finally, after agonising minutes, leaning over that man and tilting his head just enough to allow his fangs to sink into the warlock neck, rupturing that vein as his fangs so often did when he applied them to any neck- bringing that warlock a sudden, abrupt death as he fed greedily on what blood the man had left to give. That body at last crumpling to the ground. Darcy having managed, in the least, to keep most of that....mess in one place. That hunger, for food in the least, readily sated now. Those possessive instinct soothed by the removal of the single and only other male being in the room.

Darcy's hand lifted then, sweeping some of that blood from his his lips and making some effort to clean his hands in turn before reaching for that leather jacket again to shrug it back in place. His mismatched gaze found Risque alone once more then, his gaze lingering upon her. Only part off his desires had been satisfied tonight after all and yet- to instigate those desires for more himself was....bold. That sort of boldness requiring a distinctly delicate read off her emotions. Risque seeming content enough this evening that she might tolerate those advances. His steps were smooth, easy and decidedly lithe as they carried him smoothly to her side then. He could still smell that blood on her lips, that scent as much as a siren call as it ever was. That want surely decidedly clear upon his features before his head lowered to her own, his lips finding her own in that ardent, pressing kiss. Darcy after that blood upon her lips in as much as he offered her the taste of that victim on his own. How much more he craved from her and yet even he was....unwilling to demand beyond the boldness of that kiss. Darcy decidedly watchful off her all the same as he lent away. His figure leaning back against her desk then, remaining within her reach all the same. After all, it would be cowardly to kiss and flee even if that plan turned against him. Darcy so daring to walk that delicate line more often than most.

"He tasted alright dun ya reckon? Once ya got past da skin."

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