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.

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
Manager Raven 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

if the heavens ever did speak, she's the last true mouthpiece

Posted on December 09, 2019 by Darcy Blackjack

How easy it was to...appeal to those people. The irritated shouts from the crowd as his fingers silenced that music were quick to turn to looks of intrigue and mumbles of curiosity. Darcy nothing if not capable of playing that showmen when the moment called for it. A lazy, easy grin found his lips then. The vampire smiling in just the right way so as to show that pleasant white of his teeth while concealing those double pointed fangs in an effort to appear less...savage. His accent seemed to thicken if only a little, that Southern charm all but poured on as he offered those customers the veritable deal of a lifetime. Money talked. When all else failed there was bound to be a score of beings more then willing to trade a few seconds of video or a handful of photos for quick cash. He'd won most of that money off of them anyway. He was merely offering its return for their assistance. A few extra, smooth grins were offered towards several young women within the audience, one young woman near the front of the crowd blushed almost outrageously before falling into a fit of nervous laughter with her friends. Darcy had been a fixture within Syn for years. He knew those regulars like he knew the back of his own damn hand. The vampiric cowboy often content on those nights he had free time to walk amongst that crowd, to endear himself to them, to share a drink with those men and flatter the young women with that Southern charm. He made himself likeable. Popular. Approachable. How far it was from the truth of his nature and yet how well that faked personality sold.

Just as he had anticipated those phones were quick to begin to present themselves. Patron after patron came forward to place their phone in the box Harley held. That fool of a woman appearing almost stunned, if not a little pale. Had she really thought his plan wouldn't work? Or was she just pale at the idea of so many vampires striding towards her. That crowd tonight an eclectic mix of vampire, human and witch or warlock. Fae had long since become too rare to stride into the bar and only a handful of Were ever truly dared- and only if they were anything other than a feline. That sound shut from within the crowd to 'make it rain' drew Darcy's mismatched gaze upward, that irritation at that fucking shouting fool was easily concealed beneath another grin. Darcy allowing a chuckle of sorts to rise within his throat in falsified good nature.

"Dun yar worry now, friend. I'll damn well make it rain for ya."

That thoroughly intoxicated man released another cheer. Darcy entirely inclined to consider how his fucking internal organs would look as rain before the last of those customers dropped their phone into the box. Darcy's hand reached over to flick that music back on. Chase, whom had taken cover several feet away, began to nervously edge back towards that DJ booth. The other vampire only taking up his station once Darcy was well clear of that platform. The vampire hierarchy within that club more then clear tonight. A singular command for Harley to follow was offered once more, Darcy inclined to lead the way back through that club and into those private halls and rooms once more with Princess in tow. The music became a distant, dull thud, his vampiric ears more than capable of making out those lyrics or sharp sunds and yet it was easier to ignore them with several layers of cement between himself and those morons on the dance floor. It hardly took to long to return to his own room, that door kicked closed behind him as Harley was commanded to sit upon the edge of the bed with that box of phones- Darcy already reaching to pluck the first one from within it before taking up that seat in front of his laptop once more. Bastards thought they could break into his club and get away with it. He'd damn well show them. How pleased Risque would be with him too. Those potential rewards nothing short of satisfying to contemplate.

It was easy to see which places on that phone were touched the most. Those number combinations nothing more then patterned mathematics. The very kind he could damn well do in his sleep. That first phone unlocked within a matter of moments. A small simper of satisfaction found his lips then, a rumbling sound near akin to pleasure rising within his throat as his fingers found those photo and video files. Someone, somewhere, had to have filmed something. He only had to find it. Those photos and videos so convenitely dated. The vampire no sooner having opened that first video then Harley's voice cut through that silence- offering to help. Darcy's own gaze cut sharply sideways, the vampire rotating within his chair to eye that WereCat darkly. How much of a fool dd she take him for? He could hear that uneven beat of her sad little heart. Its rhythm all out of step and time. That nervousness and anxiety beginning to creep into her very veins with each passing second his gaze remained on her until the faint scent of fear began to permeate the air. How tempting that scent was.How distrating. That predatory part within himself near forgetting his purpose in that moment as the blood rushing through her veins became more than apparent and saliva moved to coat his teeth and tongue in anticipation.

It was nothing short of a near supreme effort to pull his mind away from that predatory fixation he so suddenly seemed to have found. Darcy at last allowing his gaze to blink and break that violent stare. Harley taking that opportunity to rush on with her words then. The woman insisted she might enjoy catching those assholes whom had breached them. As if she gave a flying fuck about the club. That softly uttered 'please' only furthering that dark look upon his features.

"Why are yar so fuckin' keen ta 'elp all of a sudden, eh? Yar spend all yar time fightin' me an now yar wanna 'elp? I ain't believe yar for a second, kitty. I ain't lived dis long cause I'm a damn fool."

Those words were veritably spat towards the violet eyed Were, Darcy's fangs flashed towards her in a clear warning all the same. Did she really think her faked desire to help would save her from spending a few days in those dungeons again? Were her efforts to be obedient nothing more than efforts to appease him or did she desire those phones merely to delete footage and further sabotage his own efforts? Darcy's tongue moved to toy with the tip of his fang in a ready contemplation. That box of phones would take hours to sort through. The sun would rise before that time. The customers would start demanding their phones back. How ...irritating that would be. That phone within his hand was abruptly passed to Harley then.

"Send what yar find from any of da phones to my phone. Dat way I get dem pictures and video's and da number of da person who took it. Yar can do 'alf da box, I'll do da other 'alf. I ain't stupid enough to trust ya. Git ta work."

Darcy reached for that box then, the next phone plucked from within before his fingers easily tapped at that passcode until it unlocked, the second phone tossed towards harley then followed by a third and a fourth, the fifth phone kept within his own hands as Darcy began to peruse those photos and videos with a keen eye. Harley boldly interrupting that silence again with her questions. Did she ever fucking shut up? If she wasnt rambling insults at him she was asking him questions. No wonder Risque kept them as cats so often. She didn't have to listen to this blathering. Harley's queries earned her little more then a snort. At least she was asking fucking sensible questions.

"Cade ain't no fuckin idjit. Either he sendin' a message by being so damn blatant- or it ain't Cade at all and someone jus tryna stir us more, 'hrowin' us off da scent. I ain't know which one it is yet, but I'll find out. Den I'll start a damn war."

Risque, he knew, would have handled that very breach with an immediate declaration of war, his efforts to convince her to wait having required no small amount of coaxing and yet how sure he was that whoever had done this wanted exactly that. Whoever had done this had wanted Risque to go after Cade. He was certain.

"Day know her. Whoever did dis, day know Risque and day know 'er real well ta do some of da tings they did."

Those words were little more then a rarely offered...musings of his inner thoughts. Darcy contemplating those very things out loud. After all, it hardly mattered if Harley heard them. Darcy so far having refrained from sharing those thoughts with even Risque herself until he was certain. This attack hardly seemed as random as the attacker would have them believe. As Risque perhaps believed. It wasn't someone with a grudge, some enemy she had made from years ago. They had thousands of enemies like that. The kind who would disrupt the club in some sad little effort to distress them. Yet, how few enemies they had who knew Risque well enough to purposely try and lead her into a war with Cade, to purposely appeal to that specific side of her nature, to target her paranoia with that fucking pelican. This was no casual enemy. No common enemy. He was certain. It was too targetted. It was someone with far more than a grudge and yet how.....irritable his beloved so became when questioned on her past. She left no one alive, she insisted, whom could ever present this sort of threat and how readily he believed her. His Mistress was not inclined to show mercy. To leave alive a being whom had displeased her, whom might rise to present a challenge to her. She was far too dominant, far too cunning for that, which left only two true explanations. It was the friend of an enemy. A revenge attack for some death they had caused years ago. Or it was someone Risque truly believed was dead. How readily his cunning mind turned those thoughts over as he tossed the phone aside, reaching for the next and the next. Garbage. They were all filled with nothing but garbage photos.

A soft growl of irritation rose within his throat. Harley in turn hardly seemed to be having any better luck as he opened the next phone, his fingers commanding that video to play. Randall was the first being he noticed on that screen, the bouncer cutting through that footage of dancing people only to be passed by two beings in those distinctive blue hoodies. Darcy was quick to stop that video, his gaze staring near intently at that image. It was from the side, their faces still well and truly covered and yet....

"One of dems a woman."

That declaration was laced with no small amount of surprise on his own part, Darcy grolwing at that image again before turning that phone screen toward Harley, his finger moving to point at that image of Randall pictured passing those two hooded figures. That sideward view providing a decidedly new angle. Certain aspects of one of those figures ...anatomy a little more clear from that side view. Darcy pointing at those slightly more notable breasts on the smaller figure.

"She ain't tall niether. Randall is taller den me, he's six tree, she dun come up real 'igh on 'im. Dat makes 'er 'bout five two and dat other one, dats gotta be a man. He dun come up on Randall as 'igh as me, so he's shorter den me. He's bout five 'leven. Now we gettin' somewhere."

Darcy moved to reach for a pen then, the man scrawling down those few notes upon the page before placing that phone down beside him, his attention turned back to Harley then with a clear expectation.

"What did yar find, kitty?"

We are rough men and used to rough ways.