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.
Cull & Pistol
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.
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
Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark appears to be little more than an abandoned cargo ship. 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
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
He could hardly help that ache that all but settled within his very groin as Risque allowed her fingers to torment that sensitive flesh agianst his neck. His entire figure responded to even that subtle, delicate touch as she allowed her manicured nail to trace a singular droplet of blood that ran loosely across his figure. After all, had he not been trained to respond to that very touch? To crave her attention? To seek but even the barest hint of affection she might afford him? She was a shrug he could not deny. An irrevocable need. That very need, here and now, one that his mate seemed content to continue to tempt as if stocking the embers of that very fire without ever fully allowing it to burn. How she took pleasure in his torment. In refusing him that release and yet....she tempted him to take it all at once. To void that deal they had made so many months ago. Darcy could hardly prevent that soft sound of desire that rose with his throat as the vampire queen turned from him with that simple command to dress himself as she moved to stride from the room. That hardness to his figure hardly missed and yet how assured he was it brought her pleasure to leave him wanting once more. His body all the more....alive from that meal they had shared. Those bonds between them had been forged ever deeper and yet still she left him...desperate for her touch. It was only once his lover had left that room that Darcy allowed that frustration to show, a rumble of discontent rose within the depths of his throat for those needs gone unmet. That virile energy, that adrenaline from that shared feeding so destined to find no outlet. How easy it would be to simply allow his own hand to finish what Risque had started. Especially with that photograph she had sent to his phone. The mere thought of her withinthat lingerie and those boots was....arousing in every sense. Yet....if she discovered he had taken that...release withouther express consent there would be hell to pay. Darcy, even despite that clawing want, was unwilling to displease his lover tonight.
One hand lifted to run through his dark hair in frustration before Dary moved to do as commanded of him and clean that blood from his figure before choosing an outfit from their shared wardrobe. His own section of clothing was far less....expansive than his Beloved's own and yet Risque had ordered his own clothing in turn. The vampiric Queen having arranged those shirts and pants in a manner she deemed acceptable.Those outfits paired in colours she found favour within. Darcy so hardly foolish enough to argue. The southern cowboy selected those dark jeans and shirt before reaching for a favoured leather jacket. How risque seemed to take pleasure in that material. Her fetish for leather distinctly well known and one the Vampire was content to feed into tonight if only to increase her pleasure with him. It was only once that outfit had been neatly arranged upon his figure that Darcy moved to stride from the room in turn. His tall, fit figure glided smoothly through Syn's hallways with expert ease. The vampiric cowboy a veritable shadow within that darkness before he emerged onto that dance floor- only to find it transformed. That shift from dance floor to casino was...unanticipated. Darcy, in that moment, unable to prevent the grin that found his lips in response to these custom tables that glowed beneath the dim lighting. That entire bar so seemingly...transformed into the casino of Hell itself. Each table manned by some unfortunate Were or Vampire his lover had surely forced into that role. For his own pleasure. Ow Risque had so managed to such a surprise he hardly knew and yet- that midnight queen was incapable of nothing when she chose. She, a goddess upon this earth, had seen fit to....change her very bar to something of his own liking- even if only for one night. How very much that meant, even if Darcy so hardly dared to ponder the depth of something as futile as emotions here and now. Not when those tables begged to be played and the staff of Syn had possessions waiting to be lost to his own skill.
Those words of thanks were offered to Risque alone as Darcy came to her side. Those manners were never forgotten. Not when it came to his lover. The vampiric woman was content to insist those tables were custom for the evening and yet his keep. Darcy so readily assured he had already considered countless uses for them. They were better than those he had upstairs. Perhaps he would replace them. Redo that colour scheme with those custom tables in pride of place. After all, they were a gift from his beloved and so surely deserved to be the center of attention within his veritable playroom. For now however, Darcy's gaze slid across that room in contemplation of just which of those games he intended to engage within first. His mismatched gaze was quick to settle upon his namesake. The blackjack table. Ian his unfortunate, forced, first opponent. How little any being in this bar was a true challenge and yet how Darcy relished in their destruction all the same. To dominate those other vampires in this very game of chance was near as satisfying as pressing their necks beneath his boot. Ian clutched that treasured bottle of Bourbon close to him, the barkeep no doubt having saved that very thin for a special occasion. Darcy himself was hardly inclined to give a damn. The pleasure was merely in taking it. Darcy had no sooner seated himself at that table then Lorelai began to deal, the young blond excitedly proclaiming she had googled how to deal. That first hand was a solid one- and an easy one to calculate. Darcy so already having eyed those available cards and contemplated the chances of their numbers repeating within that deck or in Lorelai or Ian's hand. Ian had never truly held a talent for gambling. The other vampire tapped at the table to signify that hit as Lorelai dealt another card. Darcy repeated that gesture a moment later to receive his own third card before flipping them over to reveal a near perfect score. Ian having over shot that required 21 by miles.
The abrupt cursing from the other vampire only prompted the simper on Darcy's own lips to widen as Ian rose from that table with clear irritation. The vampiric bartender so hardly managed to get far before Risque's voice summoned him back. The prize. Ian's gaze shifted between Risque and Darcy himself for several moments before that bottle was reluctantly handed over, the other man near begging that he share that drink. Hmmm. maybe he would simply pour it out and make Ian watch. That, surely, might prove more satisfying. After all his own interest in that mere bourbon was hardly significant. Darcy content to take it simply because he could.
"Piss off, Ian."
A growl of discontent rose within the other man and yet- Ian was hardly fool enough to press any further as he near slunk back to the bar to pout. The rest of the room continued to watch near nervously on. How readily Darcy could feel their apprehension. The hearts of those WereCreatures thudded in anxiety. How he adored that sound and too- the very scent of fear that came with those forced gambels. This...was an excellent gift. Darcy's mismatched gaze shifted to eye his mate then as Risque lifted that glass to her lips. The Southern cowboy offered her the opportunity to play- if she desired it. That momentary surprise flickered but briefly upon his lovers' features before she seemed to consider that very proposal- much to the apprehension of the room at large. Darcy moved to stand as she strode forward, that chair beside him pulled neatly outward for her as she seated herself beside him with that insistence she would....bite. How very pale Lorelai had become. The vampiric queens demand to be shown how to play that game was...surprising. Risque so rarely allowed herself to be taught in any fashion- much less remained inclined to be open to such teachings. This....was new territory.Darcy nothing if not...wary of it, even if it had been he who had invited the she-devil to his table. To teach Risque to master that game in merely one lesson was...impossible. Yet to teach her to read her opponents well enough to satisfy her predatory instinct, to stoke at that dominant nature and too- to watch her victims suffer was doable. Especially when those 'victims' were as poor a card players as the majority of these beings in Syn were inclined to be. Darcy content to....shift that game ever so slightly to satisfy his lovers needs and indulge her exquisite nature.
Darcy's lips parted to offer those first few words- only for Risque to abruptly dismiss Lorelai from the table. The blonde vampire seemed near relieved to be removed of her posting, for now as Darcy reached for that deck of cards she had left behind. That deck rested smoothly within his hand as the southern vampire began to lazily shuffle those cards. His mismatched gze lifted to meet his lover's own.
"Da game is simple, Darlin. Yar want to get a twenty-one or closest to it. A ten, a jack, a king and a queen all equal ten, all dese other cards- da two, da tr'ee, da four, da equal just what day say and da ace can be a one or eleven. Yar get an ace and yar get to decide what it is."
Darcy's fingers flicked those cards with expert ease, laying them out one by one as he mentioned them.
"When da game starts each play gets two cards, day face up on da table, da dealer gets two cards too. Da have one face up and one face down. If yar get a ten and an ace dats Blackjack and yar win right away. If yar get anything else yar gotta had dem up. Here."
Darcy moved to deal two of those cards to Risque then, a seven and an eight before dealing himself two cards, a ten and a card that remained turned over, its number hidden.
"Yar got a seven and an eight, dats fifteen. Im da dealer and I got a ten but we dun know what me second card is. Yar gotta decide if yar gunna keep what yar got or ask for another card. If yar ask for another card yar might get a six and get a twenty one and win, or yar might gat a number below six, bringin' yar closer ta twenty one- but yar might gat a number over twenty one too and dats when ya loose. A hit is when yar ask for another card, a stand is when yar keep what yar got. Whichever one of us is closer to twenty one in da end wins. Let's pretend yar asked for another card."
Darcy moved to deal that third card out then. A four. Risque's total reaching an impressive nineteen. How readily he was already assure of what that hidden card on his own side was. Those numbers swiftly calculated in his mind. The vampiric cowboy reached to flip over his own hidden card then, another four. His total a mere fourteen to Risque's nineteen.
"Yar closer ta twenty one, so you win Darlin'. It's as simple as dat."
Darcy's a bloody cheat though, he's a card counter, he almost always knows what the cards going to be! Ian's disgruntled voice shouted from the bar as a hiss rose in Darcy's own throat. His gaze turned from his lover then.
"Yar got proof of dat, Ian?'
No one can fucking prove card counting, Darcy and you damn well know it
"Den it ain't cheatin is it?"
Darcy's gaze narrowed decidedly then, the Southern vampire near silently daring Ian to continue. The other man, wisely, choosing to look away before beginning to polish that bar as if his life fucking depened on it. Darcy's own attention returned to his lover then.
"I can show yar another way ta play, one I tink yar might like. One dat will 'elp yar win jus as much."
Darcy reached to collect those cards then before beginning to shuffle them anew- only to lift his hand and summon that nearest Were creature over. The young man was near terrified, his hands visibly shaking as he moved to that spot Darcy Lorelai had previously occupied. That deck of cards thrust towards him.
Darcy moved to rise from his own seat then, the vampiric cowboy coming to stand behind his mate as the Were dealt Risque her two cards face up before dealing his own, one face up and one face down. Risque's hand, an eight and a two, compared to the dealer's visible ten card. Darcy moved to crouch ever so slightly then, his words a mere whisper agianst his lovers ear and loud enough for Risque alone to hear.
"Listen ta 'is pathetic little 'eart. Single it out. Dare 'eart's give away so much about what day planning ta do. Day beat faster when da are going ta be bold, day slow down when day are being more careful. He is nervous, too nervous ta take another card, if 'e was gunna be dat bold his 'eart would be frantic- the way day are jus moments before day die. Terrified of dat unknown. Take another card for yourself- he won't be bold enough to an 'e'll seal is own fate."
Darcy lips pressed gently below her ear in that subtle, near reverent affection before he moved to lean away. Risque commanded that next card be dealt only for an ace to be placed in front of her. An eleven. A perfect twenty one. A card that would have sealed the dealers own victory if he had been bold enough to take it. How easily that wicked simper found his lips then.
"Well done, Darlin'. Yar get to demand a prize from 'im now."
Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet
Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth