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

This is my world, oh, you took a wrong turn;

Posted on July 15, 2021 by Risque

The man scampered off like a frightened woodland rat fleeing from a predator as Risque merely watched with a bland expression upon her striking features. He ran to that door, cornered as he still possessed enough wits to not bang on it like a savage. He was lucky to leave with his life and yet she knew he wouldn't come back without results. She left him waiting, his heart beat raced as though it could flee instead of him! She waited but a few moments longer, the man's pleading eyes briefly meeting her own before he dipped his head in respect. The feline queen reached toward that concealed button, tapping it so the large, heavy door clicked open. Her point had been driven home as he scurried but not before that pitiful 'th-th-thank you, Miss Risque.' She said nothing as her pale blue gaze shifted back toward the screen with an email she was in the middle of writing sprawled across it. With her final appointment of the evening concluded, which meant she was free to finally play, indulge. That was when an invasive voice, meek, and drenched in weakness reached her. Her recent hire ghosted her doorway. He wouldn't last a month in her ranks acting like coward. But why was he there?

"There is one more." He said, but his words didn't hold the confidence in them, at least he didn't stutter even
though his quiet nerves were clearly misfiring.

"Explain. I have already taken my final appointment. Surely you didn't let someone in that shouldn't be here... you know how I feel when my security is breached." A flash of warning laced within her words, although it was so very subtle within her melodic voice.

"She calls herself Isolt, Miss." He looked fearful, as he should and yet he trained his gaze to the floor, remaining respectful in spite of his fear. Perhaps he might last a little longer. However, she was far more focused on the name that rarely crossed anyone's lips. Isolt?

"I have no business with her." Her lips curled in a fleeting flash of displeasure, dismissing her progeny. Willing to let her rot on the street. Risque's expression remained fixed, sitting upon her chair that looked far more like her throne. The clouded leopard beneath her desk seemed to sense a shift of potent power in that room, as it rubbed its head against her leg and then against the chair as if it sought out her comfort.

Her new hire, Silas waited for more instruction and yet he received nothing more, the man shifted to dismiss Isolt without even a single moment of her attention.

What would bring her progeny here beyond desperation? Oh, for her to be here, she must be very desperate. Risque admittedly wouldn't mind seeing her in such a state.

"Wait." That single word was uttered that caused Silas to freeze within his tracks.
"Let her through."
It would appear she had changed her mind.
"Right away."

A moment later she could sense the crimson haired woman was visible at her door.

"Isolt." She purred, tasting her name that felt foreign upon her tongue. Risque waited long enough for the red-haired vampire to step inside before the heavy door was closed behind her. Those astute pale eyes watched that familiar, angelic face and offered her nothing. She didn't offer her a seat, nor did she ask for the girl to step closer. No, she wanted to taste that unease start to prickle across her flesh as she studied that silver wall that stood across from her, the shackles glinted as if in welcome. The only welcome the vampire would receive. Risque hardly hid the judgement within her assessing, unblinking stare. The woman was entirely empty handed.

She had a lot of nerve to show her face here, empty handed, nor did she fall to knees. Clearly, she was not nearly desperate enough. Pity. Perhaps time would tell. Regardless, the crimson haired vampire was in her territory.

The she-devil appeared nothing but eerily still, poised within her comfortable seat. Not a flash of recognition simmered behind her pale stare. Not a flicker of emotion stirred within her either. Her progeny had failed her in more ways than one and she had not nearly forgotten the sheer amount of disrespect when she rose hand against her.

Foolish child. Time would break her, one way or another. However, she did not anticipate it to be this soon. Yet the mere sight of her only stirred the flickering sensation that she was nothing more than a loose end. One she felt this nagging inkling to destroy, or simply break her. After all, she showed her face within Syn's walls uninvited, empty handed. Nor did she immediately fall to the floor in respect. Foolish girl. Did she not know how this worked?

It was not tenacity, it was stupidity.

"Submit." Her tone was executed like silk and yet one that should not be underestimated, the sound of
her voice as sensual as the woman who possessed it. That single demand was uttered with no ounce of kindness or respect. No room argument. She would have none. To show up here meant to challenge her, or play by her rules.

"You have ten seconds and I am being generous, to come to grips with your pride. You come here empty-handed without an appointment. Drop to your knees or I will assume you as my enemy, child. Do not think being my progeny has earned you a single thing, especially when you have not earned it. Nor paid for your past transgressions." The lightly French accented words were uttered so terrifyingly calm as her tongue traced over her sharpened teeth in anticipation. Her hand languidly rose and flattened palm down against the polished surface of her wooden desk, a single manicured finger began tapping away to the seconds that were so quickly fleeing.