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

I drive all night just to get back home

Posted on April 16, 2022 by Darcy Blackjack

on a steel horse I ride

That fury, that rage- it was....all encompassing. Darcy, in that precarious moment, so unable to focus upon anything or anyone save the vile feline whose claws had savaged his sides and whose teeth had torn at the flesh of his neck. Blood spilled freely from those wounds. That torn flesh burned liked heated knives and yet how that pain seemed only to drive at the rage within the ravager. This, after all, had so always been his...weakness. A particularly potent flaw within the confines of his mind. One that even Risque's own training had managed to...subdue and yet never fully remove from his being. How readily that rage could overtake and eliminate but any other thought within the Southern cowboys mind save that utter desire to destroy the very source of his discontent. Tetradore, in that moment, the utterly foolish being who had drawn Darcy's focus. The rest of the battlefield all but melted away as those two men focused upon one another. Darcy's elbow slammed into the stomach of the cat- forcing the air from Tetradore's lungs. The Panther's fangs released their hold upon his shoulder and offered the vampire that chance to cast his heavy frame aside. Darcy's own far superior speed saw the Ravager rise within a matter of mere seconds, his teeth biting at Tetradores forelimb, that taste of the panthers blood hitting his tongue as he rose, his hand reaching out to seize Tetradore's hindlimb limb as those threats were all but hissed through his barred, bloodied teeth. Threats he had every intention of following through with.

Any effort Tetradore made to flee was all but futile. That pathetic feline had never been faster. He never would be faster and yet oh- how he never seemed to learn. Darcy's hand grasped the hind leg of the jungle cat, hauling him into the air with ease as the WereKing twisted in a futile effort to right himself- only for Darcy to bring the unfortunate creature crashing back into the ground with bone-shattering force. That faintest of simpers tugged at the vampire's lips. That sick satisfaction he took from shattering Tetradore's body so readily danced upon his features before his hand gripped that leg again- Tetradore hoisted back into the air. Darcy intended entirely to slam him into that ground again and again and again. A crude death perhaps- but a painful one. Bludgeoning always was. It was no less than Tetradore deserved for....everything he had ever done. The hispanic man was a veritable bane within his life who deserved to be destroyed and oh how Darcy would relish it. The sudden impact of another being into his side, however, was enough to send Darcy reeling. Tetradore all but thrown into the air, Darcy forced to release the feline in an effort to keep himself upon his feet as he whirled in place. A roar of outrage spat free of this throat. What in the fuck was that? Tetradore's collision with one of those warlocks was all but ignored. Darcy, in that moment, oblivious to the faint flickering of the dome behind as its weakening power began to become apparent. The Southerner instead so merely fixated upon the blonde vampire woman who had dared to interrupt him. Dared to strike him. That rage he had felt towards Tetradore so rapidly seemed to ensnare Darla in turn. That fool of a woman having made that decidedly fatal error of focusing upon Tetradore as the pair squared off with one another.

Another deep, rumbling growl rose within Darcy's throat. That rage seeming to burst within him all over again as his figure all but catapulted forward. Coming at Darla from behind as she, in turn, lunged for Tetradore. That difference within their ages was distinctly vast and yet how few beings were ever truly prepared to face the sheer bloodlust of a Ravager vampire fixated upon nothing else save destruction in every form. How little thought persisted within Darcy's mind outside that singular desire. Even Tetradore, in that moment, no longer presented as a concern as Darcy's teeth seized the back of Darla's neck. Those rows upon rows of bloodied fangs slicing flesh and sinew. The southern vampire made no effort at his own self preservation- his entire figure launched into Darla in a fashion near animalistic. This, after all, was the very strength of his unique species. Nothing mattered. Nothing. Save destruction. Darla's flesh parted like butter beneath those fangs as both vampires fell to the ground in a twisting writhing furore of hissing outrage. Blood sprayed like a veritable fountain and yet who that blood came from remained to be seen. The vampiric pair were little more than a whirling barrage of fangs and snarls and shrieks. Darcy's teeth merely aimed for anything they could bite. The southern vampire tearing at any flesh unfortunate enough to fall within his jaws. He could feel the iron-hard force of Darla agianst him. Her superior strength collided over and over with his own figure. The sickening crunch of bone echoed across that battle field and yet those starbursts of pain were little more than background noise within his mind. He was going to murder that bitch. Rip up every part of her. That taste of her blood against his tongue only seemed to send him deeper into that lusted-filled haze before- abruptly- those warring vampires broke apart.

Darla, or what remained of her, seemed to stumble for several moments before her body crumpled to the floor, her legs twitching in some faint effort to cling to life. Shreds of flesh hung from her body. Her blood ran in pools around her. Her neck, twisted at unholy angles and barely attached seemed to wraith as Darcy merely...stared. The utter desecration of his victim seemed to hold little effect upon him. His blood stained features merely...watching her dying throes with emotionless ease.

"Finish 'er."

That singular command was uttered to Tetradore alone. Darcy's mismatched gaze, briefly, meeting the emerald eyes of the panther and yet, this time, little save that authority existed behind them as the predatory creature's attention fixated then upon his mate. Whether or not Tetradore carried out that command hardly mattered. Vampire or not, Darla would not recover from those wounds. What remained of her life leaking out upon the floor as Darcy's tongue swept across his lips- tasting that heated blood. It was that sensation of power however, that seemed to find the cowboy then. Darcy reached out for that rarely used affinity as several bullets began to form within the air around him. One for each warlock. A singular snap of his fingers scent those bullets flying with all the force of a gun. Each of those remaining warlocks struck simultaneously. Each of them crumbling. That shield dome along with them just as Risque, with graceful ease, struck forward- her sharpened silver sword running Cade through and yet- the other vampire had moved at the last moment, preventing that fatal strike. Cade was quick to make the most of Risque's proximity, a blur of speed seeing him dislodged himself from that sword only to attempt to seize Risque by the throat- his free hand grasping the wrist of her own in an effort to prevent her striking him with that sword again. His own fangs lunged for the delicate flesh of her neck with every intention of tearing her apart.

Darcy's own gaze remained fixated upon that nearest warlock and the blood that ran from the wound within his skull. He could smell it from here. He could practically taste it. Four of them dead or dying. It was....a feast. He was....starving. Darcy's boots scuffed at the earth. A step forward, another, Darcy heading for the nearest warlock with little save that need to feed turned within his thoughts. At least until....something....entirely unfelt before seemed to stir within. That sensation was new, unknown and yet utterly potent. The very force of that feeling enough to prompt a gasp from the Ravager as he near whirled in place. Risque. His mate. That very invisible bond that bound them together so readily seemed to hum. That bloodlust all but shattered. His lack of focus so becoming a near hyper-focus upon Risque alone. That desire to protect his lover so suddenly surging through that wealth of animalistic want. How readily that sight of Cade's hands upon his beloved's throat seemed to force another roar from his lips, that speed all but exploding from within Darcy once more as he tore forward and across the battlefield. His figure launched at Cade- the elder vampire sent reeling backward and away from Risque with the force of that impact. Darcy's own leather-clad figure forced between them. The Southern vampire, for the first time, became aware of that....pain within his left side. His entirely dislocated left shoulder, a parting gift from Darla, hung near limply. Yet how little he seemed to care. You cannot be serious, Risque. This is your mate? He's not better then one of my fucking dogs. Are you truly going to hide behind him?

Darcy was so barely given a chance to register those words before Cade's telekinesis collided with his figure. The Southern vampire sent flying. His body tossed like a rag doll to the side. Cade afforded that clean strike at Risque once more as he lunged forward. Both vampire leaders locked in a blurred battle. Who had the upper hand Darcy hardly knew as he pushed himself to his own feet once, the southern vampire racing back across that field and towards those warring coven leaders. He could smell Risques blood, intermingled with Cade's own. Whether or not Cade knew of the death of his own mate remained to be seen. Darcy very near reached them once more when a singular flicker of silver seemed to catch his eye across that field. Silver stakes. Where they had come from so hardly mattered. Their destination was entirely clear. Risque, locked in that battle with Cade was oblivious to those stakes as they rose beneath the other vampires control. Their trajectory was certain. He intended to run Risque through, from behind, with her focus entirely upon him. She would never see that fatal blow coming.


His voice was all but drowned out by the sounds of that battle. Darcy launched forward once more with a near single-minded determination and yet....he had never attempted to run this fast. Even with that vampiric speed he was hardly going to be fast enough to outrun Cade's telekinesis.


Whether or not the WereKing would or could prevent even one of those stakes careening into Risque remained to be seen, Darcy all but racing past the Panther. The Ravager pushing himself to the very limitations of his own speed. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He wasn't going to be fast enough to reach her. He was going to.....lose his mate. His lover. His goddess. The very reason for which he existed and oh- how that prompted an ache he was assured he had never felt before within his chest. A different sort of fear settled within him. That very realization seemed to prompt that final effort from the cowboy, Darcy oblivious once more to that sensation of power that surrounded his figure. The cowboy abruptly disappearing from that field- only to reappear abruptly beside Risque- his body colliding into her own, knocking her aside, the first of those stakes slamming into Darcy himself. The impact sending them both falling, That second stake, its initial target knocked aside- sent careening into Cade's chest. Where that third had gone Darcy hardly knew. Perhaps it hardly mattered. How he had reached Risque so quickly was equally cast aside. The southern vampire so merely blinking down at his mate beneath him.

"Dun worry Darlin', I caught it."

Just what exactly he was talking about remained to be seen. His head gesturing slightly to his left side- that silver stake protruding from his ribs surely clear. That blood running down and across them both of them. That pain was...incredible. His every attempt at breath decidedly rasping. Darcy attempted to offer his lover a near shaky, bloodied grin before his mismatched gaze seemed to falter. The cowboy collapsing entirely into unconsciousness atop his Mistress. That stake nestled between his ribs and perilously close to his heart. That war, in the very least, so surely over. What remained of Cade's forces so rapidly beginning to retreat. The body of their leader already beginning to turn to dust.


I'm wanted, Dead or Alive