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

am I more than you bargained for yet?

Posted on March 06, 2019 by Darcy Blackjack
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It had been a disappointing kind of night. Pray was scarce and the air was cold. That frigid nip of the wind bit at his already icy skin. Darcy's already precarious mood plummeting even further as his hand lifted to his mouth to lazily wipe the remnants of blood from his lips. His last meal laying thoroughly dead at his feet. The man had barely been worth the effort. His blood had been....tainted. That taste almost bitter and foul. Darcy having spat more out then he had swallowed and yet he did not appreciate is time being wasted. The man having suffered for it all the same. That blood still running out of that body to seep through the cracks and splintered wood of the dock and drip into the water below. Those little crimson droplets dissipating the moment they struck that salted sea and yet- more then one carnivorous fish had begun to circle below in some anticipation of a meal. Who would he be to deny them? One booted foot lifted easily then. Darcy resting it momentarily agianst the dead man's shoulder before shoving it forward. That body rolling from the dock and into the water. How long would it take to sink? Or would those fish eat it first? The black clad vampire lent almost lackidastically upon the edge of the railing, his tongue toying with his right fang as those mismatched eyes so apathetically watched that body bob in the water. He had seen death so many times it no longer succeed in effecting him. His curiosity now a near sickening fascination with the macabre and just what would take that body first. Ocean or fish.

Yet- that hunger still gnawed at his stomach with vicious, unrelenting claws. He could return to Syn and that easy, already bottled meal and yet it was never the same. That blood wasn't hot. Those victims rarely screamed. Whatever sad little wretch Risque had stowed in those dungeons was unlikely to prompt and rush of adrenaline within him. Those predatory urges near dying to be met. His gaze was drawn briefly onward and away from that moonlit ocean. Princess, that Lynx kitten, batted almost playfully at the silver spurs at his feet. Her own paws bloodied from the slick surface of the dock. Darcy's gaze lifted once more from those blood stains to rest upon the hulking iron side of the Ark. That ship casting a shadow across half the dock itself. Maybe someone would blame Tetradore and his pack for that body in the water. The thought oddly satisfying.


That single word was uttered towards his little pet then. Princess hurrying to trot at her Master's heel as Darcy strode down that dock and back onto the street itself. There was little blood to be spilled in the West tonight, it seemed. The vampire contemplating that trip to the North and those night clubs that so often yielded a delectable treat in the form of some stupid, nieve little dolt to bleed dry. He paid little heed to the sound of that approaching car, the vehicle flying by, spraying up the water from one of the puddles that littered the slick surface of the road. The water flung up and agianst his kitten, the little creature yowling her distress before all but fleeing from his side and into the depths of one of the alleyways that littered the west like a veritable labyrinth. A growl of disdain rose within his throat.

"Git back 'ere! Dun make me chase ya, girl. I ain't in da mood."

His words, it seemed, had fallen on deaf kitten ears. Darcy exhaling sharply before adjusting his course down that alleyway his pet had taken. That new scent striking him near instantly. Something, or someone else, was in this alley. His lips parted, the vampire inhaling through his mouth and nose in the same moment. As if to taste that very scent. To let it brush over his teeth and tongue. Something human. Something that smelled....delectable. He hardly made any move to hurry. His long limbs carrying him smoothly down that dark, quiet alleyway. The sound of his spurs the only real, definable noise beyond the soft words of the other man. The one holding his kitten. It was almost imperceptible and yet that vampiric hearing so readily picked it apart from the sounds of the humans beating heart and even breath. The deep rumbling, rolling sound of Princess' purr. She had never purred for another before. The little Lynx so apparently having taken a liking to that human. That very notion that she liked another, that she favoured someone else readily akin to a veritable knife to the back. Oh how he disliked that. Those violent, vile dark tendrils of jealousy twisting and contorting within his mind like a poison that all but flooded his system with an intoxication he was as much victim too as he was addicted too. Oh, he had desired the little man's blood before- now he desired to hurt him too. That dangerous, dark little simper dancing upon his lips at that sudden cold affront of what he wanted. Darcy paused a few feet from Alistair now.

"Yar stealin' from me."

That accusation was met with the lift of his hand. Darcy pointing toward the Lynx kitten nestled contentedly within the dark-haired boys arms. He strode forward then. Each step purposeful and slow. Those spurs clinking agianst the concrete with every stride. His southern drawl parting his lips again, those overly large fangs incapable of being concealed.

"I dun like thieves."

Oh how that ludicrous 'theft' was so hardly Alistair's crime all the same. That 'crime' the very notion that he had dared to make that kitten purr. That jealousy within the vampire twisting and contorting like a beast all its own no matter how mad the idea. Darcy incapable of sharing. His tolerance for Risque's attention for Tetradore was already strained to thin. He would not allow his kitten to favour another. He would not be a second favourite again. Those dark, twisted thoughts ravaging at his own mind. That low, keening whistle easily left his lips then. Princess, in Alistair's arms, readily scrambled free to leap to the ground before vaulting up Darcy's own leg and side to sit herself atop his shoulder. The golden brown eyes of the kitten turned to stare at Alistair now as if with an air of.....expectation. The vampires hand reached upward then, his fingers stroking that kitten-soft fur near absentmindedly and yet that mismatched gaze hardly left the other man.

"Do yar know what day used ta do ta thieves back in my day, eh?"

That near rush of vampiric speed promptly saw the vampire appear behind Alistar then. One hand reached out fist a handful of the younger mans dark hair, Darcy pulling him back agianst his chest. How intoxicating that smell was! That fluttering beat of his heat equally as appealing. That saliva already pooling between his jaws.

"Day used ta drag 'em round behind a 'orse, or flay 'em, or 'ang 'em or sometimes day used ta cut em from 'ip ta 'eart."

His free hand reached forward then to rest the tips of his fingers on Alistair's hip, lifting the man's shirt ever so slightly as he did. Darcy content to continue to restrain him by his hair, before allowing his fingernails to rake beneath that man's shirt and jacket all the way up to his heart. That pressure hardly enough to draw blood and yet- more than enough to leave those red lines.

"As it is, I ain't got a 'orse, or a rope or a knife- but I reckon yar can give me somethin' else."

He attempted to tilt Alistair's head to the side then, his lips brushing along that exposed neck then in some indication of just what he desired, the tip of his tongue searching for the vein. Princess so taking that opportunity to lean forward and rub her head affectionately along Alistair's cheek in some near horrific....innocence that so offset that scene. That rumbling little purr, now, so seeming to have an entirely different meaning. As if that little feline so enjoyed that scene played out before her.

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