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
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

Risque Voth

some days your the only thing I know

Posted on January 20, 2020 by Darcy Blackjack

Darcy's gaze shifted upward and away from the numbers that littered the page in front of him as Randall wandered past him for the umptenth time. The larger vampires pace was sluggish and yet methodical as he moped that now empty dance floor. Syn had fallen quiet at least an hour ago now. The strobe lights and and thumping base replaced with those few lamps that remained lit and a near tried silence that seemed to rest with a satisfaction of sorts over the entire club. Somewhere outside those bouncers smoked their last few cigarettes and laughed over the fools they'd turned away tonight and the brawls they'd manhandled out onto the street. Inside that bar Randall continued to mop, chase packed and stored that DJ equipment, Ian wiped the bar and Lorelai hummed that same familiar tune as she stacked chairs up on tables and out of Randalls way. Darcy, seated at that corner table as he always was so late in the evening, returned his attention back to the accounts before him. A single lamp illuminated the numbers and yet he hardly needed it. It was merely a human tendency that clung to him still- an instinctive act- to turn on a light. The fingers of his left hand loosely traced the rim of his empty glass as if he contemplated something. A pen spun neatly in the fingers of his right hand. No one distrubed him. They knew better then that and yet, for now at least, Syn had found a relative peace of sorts. A decidedly rare one it seemed to be afforded for those few hours befre dawn in which the vampires began to close that bar up and retreat back into the darkness to sleep the day away.

The evenings takings rested in the box beside him, Darcy content to eye it briefly before circling several numbers on that page. They had done unusually well this evening. Even without the edition of his own winnings. How pleased his Beloved would be. Risque had retired to their bedroom an hour before. Her nightly routine was prone to taking longer than his own. Darcy, in turn, content to see that club was properly closed down and that money sorted by his own hand rather than any other. How he enjoyed gambling with those cards and yet- when it came to that till he was hardly inclined to allow any employee handle those thousands of dollars. He knew his own kind- and how little he trusted them. Chase was the first to disappear into the deeper, darker depths of the club to retire to his own room. Ian and Lorelai followed behind. Randall, as always, was the last to leave once he'd drained that bucket and hung that mop to dry. Darcy left alone for several moments longer to finish that work before he reached to flick off that singular light that illuminated that otherwise empty space. That silence almost....pleasing. How used to that loud music he had become and yet- how much he adored the silence all the same. Those sheets of accounts, his notes neatly summarized and highlighted to allow Risque a simple, quick viewing of profit and expenses was delivered to his mates desk within her office to view the following evening. That money was left beside it, her office door firmly closed and locked behind him before Darcy moved through those corridors, light after light flicked off behind him. His own senses expanded readily. The vampire hardly requiring any light at all to see that path ahead of him, his ears, in turn, effortlessly aware of every small creak and sound from those vampires settling into bed and those cats that paced in the darkened corridors or the cages below. His own goal singular and focused. Those siding silver doors were sealed shut behind him. Syn in veritable lockdown for the day. Those other vampires and even those cats knew far better then to irritate him now. Each of them, wisely, remaining out of his way and within their own rooms or spaces. Darcy, after all, disliked having problems brought to him during lockdown. How terribly it tested his patience.

The southern vampire turned at last down that final corridor- empty save for that singular door at the end. Its grandeur alone so signifying Risques personal tates and yet- that room had become his own for several months now. Darcy's hand press upon the door, the vampire closing it behind him, his finger flicking over that lock with practised ease. It hardly took long to pick out the sound of the shower from the ensuite several seconds before Risque shut off the water. For all her disdain of that liquid she seemed to adore the heat those showers brought. Darcy's shoulders rolled with ease, the man shrugging out of that black leather jacket before hanging it upon the stand beside the door. Risque having made herself clear from the first that mess would not be tolerated. Darcy, as always, ever willing to obey in that fashion he had been trained to do. His fingers reached for the buttons of his navy shirt then, the cowboy undoing them smoothly before his shirt was shrugged off in just the same fashion and tossed into the hamper by the door, his fingers reaching for his gun belt then- that belt and guns hung beside his jacket. His jeans were shucked from his figure before joining that shirt in the hamper, Darcy at last stepping out of his boots to leave them by the door and at the foot of the coat rack. The vampire left in his boxer shorts. That cactus and bucking bronco print by far one of his favourites even if the man allowed no one outside of his mate to be privy to them.

One hand lifted to run through his dark hair, those tousled locks easily shaken loose to fall haphazardly about his head, a few strands tangling with his long eyelashes. Wasted on a boy- as Risque so often said. Darcy, of late, had allowed his hair to grow out to that near...stylishly scruffy look if only because Risque had commented on her preference for it. Each and every part of that man so designed to appease her. After all- was it not his very job to adore her? To worship her as she deserved? A yawn easily found his lips as Darcy strode across the floor and towards his side of the bed, the vampire seating himself on the edge of it. Princess, whom had taken up residence on a sofa on the far side of the room, easily lept from it to hurry over toward her master. The lynx leaping effortlessly up onto the bed beside him. Princess eager to establish her place on that bed before whichever cat Risque had chosen to warm her feet that night attempted to achieve a better position. Darcy, as always, content to eye those lingering felines with disdain. One lounging ginger cat, is long fur immaculately groomed, dared to hiss at him from the end of the bed. Darcy;s mismatched gazed shifted briefly to that slightly ajar bathroom door. The soft sounds and scents from within assuring him Risque was bust with her nightly cream and lotion routine. Darcy so taking that opportunity to hiss back at that cat- only to send it fleeing from the bed to scramble beneath it. A smug look of satisfaction settled upon his features.

One hand reached forward then to push those blankets back, Darcy fully intending to settle himself in bed- only for his mismatched gaze to settle upon a small, round container resting neatly upon his bedside table atop his Guns N Bullets Monthly and Rodeo Roundup magazines. That was new. The vampire reached readily for it then, his features shifting into a scowl as he eyed it before slowly unscrewing that top to eye the cream within. Cream. It was some sort of cream- but for what? For where? Risque had clearly seen fit to add it to that skincare routine she had near demanded he take up and yet where this one went remained to be seen. That container labeless and yet she clearly desired that he use it. She expected it. She expected him to know where it went.

"Fuckin 'ell."

Those very words were muttered beneath his breath as Darcy sniffed at that cream near experimentally. It smelled- appealing and yet that hardly helped his current predicament as to where it went. Hands, face, feet? He had been more than reluctant to use those products at first and yet he was willing to admit, to Risque alone, that his skin had never looked better. Even if he still found the entire notion girly. Who was he to deny her? Applying that cream to the wrong place, however, would displease her entirely. A soft exhale prompted the vampire to return the lid that that cream before he rose from the bed to wander forward and into the bathroom. The heat and steam within the room was nothing short of delightful. Risque, as she often did within the evenings, stood before the bathroom mirror, a brush in one hand, her glorious midnight hair falling like an ebony wave down her bare shoulders. Darcy, even now, unable to prevent that soft sound of pleasure that sight alone prompted from within him. The vampire stepped easily in the room then, Darcy coming to stand behind his mate. One hand rested lightly on her waist as his lips pressed to the heated warmth of her shoulder. His desire to taste her skin, so fresh from that shower, was near overwhelming. The man careful to keep his fangs away from that flesh as his lips trailed softly along her shoulder to press a final time agianst her neck in that soft and yet sensual gesture. His free hand holding up that cream then.

"Where does it go, Darlin?"

That southern drawl easily parted his lips then as he lifted them from her skin in that near eternal worship, Darcy remained behind her all the same and yet how watchful his gaze. Darcy so perfectly attuned to his Beloveds each and every move. The vampire searching for even the vaguest hint of displeasure upon her features. Risques moods as fickle as always. Darcy hardly fool enough to step within her space without so preparing himself to yield it back to her near instantly should she find any displeasure with him and yet- it was rare- so late in the evening, for the volatile pair to find any displeasure with one another. That precious hour or so before dawn so often Darcy's most favoured when the world was silent and he might have his mate so entirely to himself.

"What do yar feel like tonight? Ya wanna watch more o' dat Game o' 'trones' or yar want me ta put on dat one where dem women try ta take da best picture while day all bitchin at each other and yar can tell me what's wrong with all dare outfits"

We are rough men and used to rough ways.