Within the Northern vicinity of the city, the wealthy gather behind meticulously trimmed hedges and high-class architecture. The pristine streets are paved with stone and the storefronts are brightly lit and inviting - for the right clientele. In the North, every establishment is eager to cater to the rich and the wealthy. Many such places are used to the sometimes peculiar requests of the otherworldly but here there is little that money cannot buy - whether it happens to be illegal or merely involves looking the other way. Vampires and Dark Hunters are often found upon these Northern streets, their long lives often contributing to their sizable wealth which allows them the luxuries that the North provides.

What You'll Find Here

The VooDoo Room
The Witchery


The newly opened Eternity is an expensive fine dining restaurant nestled high upon the hills of the North - providing it a breathtaking view of the city below. The award-winning chefs at Eternity collaborate directly with local farmers and producers to source the freshest ingredients for its ever-changing menu. The staff at Eternity pride themselves on serving each customer's unique dietary needs - from the vampiric to the mortal races. Reservations are strongly encouraged as Eternity is frequently booked to capacity.

The VooDoo Room

Located in the heart of the North, the Voodoo Room is the spirits lover's destination of choice in Sacrosanct. The Voodoo room is a craft cocktail bar that aims to provide an eclectic and exotic atmosphere. Nestled among the William Morris wallpaper, gold, and wood, you will find a new kind of neighborhood cocktail bar. One where hospitality and skill work in concert. With intoxicating liquors and a voodoo vibe, the Voodoo room will keep you coming back for more. Guided by the mantra of providing a one of a kind, high-end experience, the Voodoo Room's mixologists meet the highest standards with a fantastically themed selection of cocktails and specials.

The Witchery

Dark, Gothic, and thoroughly theatrical, the Witchery is a place to indulge yourself with it's lavish, theatrical suites. Whatever room you choose, you'll find glamor, indulgence, and luxury. From the Vestry to the Library and the Armory, the suites of the Witchery are nothing short of sensually romantic. A stay at the Witchery is not complete without dining in the rich baroque surroundings of the original oak-paneled hotel or among the elegant candle-lit charms of the Secret Garden. Whether you stay or dine, The Witchery is an unforgettably magical experience.

still just a rat in a cage

Posted on May 25, 2020 by Marcelo Rumeir

That charming smile on her face causes those chocolate eyes to narrow for the briefest of moments. That dapper and charming deal was his gig. But whatever he felt is quickly relinquished. This is one of those times perhaps that Marcelo should be grateful for not showing his age, his real age, not just the one he was stuck in. Nothing was ever expected of him, he never had to know the answers to things, when he was being troublesome he was 'just a boy,' and most people let him be. Marcelo could keep his secrets that way, he wouldn't be noticed, it made it all so easy. Those dark eyes glimmer with mischief as she smiles at him. While she may not be such a trickster to be a fox, she still stole, though it was knowledge instead of things.

Raven, perhaps, comes to mind.

Those chocolate brown eyes soften at her own of blue. The same eyes as his mother, as his sister. That color always knew just how to get him. While those eyes may soften though, that smirk still says devilish, warning any creatures within eye shot to stay back. Venomous.

"Well good, then I wont have to tell my mother on you for calling me ugly," he says, although such a task would be impossible, unless one had a shovel to dig six feet under, and a time machine to boot. He follows her eyes down to his shirt and he smirks again. Illy had interesting tastes, that much was certain, but he was grateful. She kept things interesting. It looks fine she says, and he wants to narrow those eyes again. Just fine. But those dark eyes just watch her instead, carefully. His nose twitches as he takes in her scent. Human, it would seem-just human. They were becoming more and more rare in the city and Marcelo finds some sort of strange novelty in seeing her, in talking to her. It was hard to not view them as amusement when you lived forever and this so fragile beings were destined for their mortality. The clock ticking the moment they were born.

The quirk of her lips is met with a lazy grin. The boy with locks of brandished gold always did smile too easily. "My uncle. He told me never to trust a journalist," he says pointedly, with a note of accusation in his voice, but that boyish grin on his face only further escalates the mask. "Probing snoops the lot of 'em, is what he used to say." So it wasn't quite his uncle, his real uncle died hundreds of years ago, but it was an older gentleman that Marcelo met while gallivanting around the world. Could it still be called gallivanting if you were running away from Dark Hunters and trying to keep people from noticing that you weren't aging?

"So," he says stepping inside. "Are you a probing snoop?" The question is abrupt, an eyebrow raises over an earthen eye as he waits for her reaction. His sensitive hearing catches her words. Investigating. Thefts. Northern Bandit.

He blinks.

The boy with locks like brandished gold tilts his head slightly, another blink of brown eyes before his dark gaze rests upon her. "I'm Marcelo," he says, ignoring most of what she says, as if his intention were to be as aggravating as possible. "Isnt that all subjective?" He responds then. "Shifty, strange, maybe I find you shifty and strange," he says pointedly. "Also, I thought you were going to buy me a cup of coffee," he says, clearly, he would not say much more without a drink in his hand.

This is when he gets an idea. Those eyes brighten. "How much do you know about this city, Isadore?" He asks, just for a moment, that Spanish accent slipping through, though he quickly recovers. Funny, how some words cause him to slip so easily back into another time, another place. (Another century.) "There is one figure I have seen, black hair, kinda lanky, eyes," he says, using the description of the man he has not seen, but has dared to touch his Iliana. "Seen him around? Now that is a shifty figure." Of course, is Marcelo ever found him, he would no longer be shifty.

He would be dead.

{ it is far better to live like a lion for a day than live like a jackal for a hundred years }