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
Manager Raven 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

But there's still rage inside

Posted on March 17, 2020 by AIDEN TETRADORE

aiden tetradore

There's no saving me.
I've become a shell of the man I was. Only time will tell if I'm strong enough.

How desperately the fae seemed to struggle against Darcy's vice like grip, the man clearly sensing his own demise as his chocolate locks shifted with his thrashing over those pale blue eyes. The emerald hue of Tetradore's irises remained steadfast upon the fairy, his entire physique was deathly still as he sat at the very edge of Risque's newest gift. It unnerved the panther, though his stoic figure failed to show it, the very similarities between the fae Darcy had found and his own father. How often he had hallucinated moments such as this - when either of the vampires he despised found the singular soul that Tetradore would not hesitate to lay down his life for. He watched as Darcy jerked the fae's arm behind his back, forcing the fae into pained stillness as he presented the poor fellow to Risque for her perusal. Salaciously she leaned closer towards him, her very proximity only furthering the terror within the fairy. How that very emotion called to him, beckoning him to take control of it in the manner only he could and yet...Tetradore ignored it's sweet singing, the feline focusing upon every aspect of the fae that differed from Matteo in some vain effort to ground himself within the present and distance himself from the horrors that he knew would unfold before his very eyes.

It was the sound of Risque's hand against the fairy's cheek that drew the jungle cat from his internal thoughts, his own figure flinched at the resounding slap. The very force of it drew blood to the surface of the man's once pristine skin, the scent of it palpable even to Tetradore as his ears swiveled atop his head. The cat remained silent, however, as Risque's voice hissed maliciously at the poor ignorant man - the fae reduced to near-hysterical sobs. They hardly seemed enough to dissuade Risque's examination of him, though Tetradore was entirely aware of the quizzical glimpse upon Darcy's features. For a singular poised moment, the vibrancy of Tetradore's gaze met Darcy's own head-on, the panther remaining little more than the very personification of indifference - his own thoughts, concerns, and fears kept so close to his chest if only for the knowledge of how Risque might so utilize even the slightest betrayal of his discomfort against him. His ears flicked at Darcy's thick Southern accent, the man inquiring after the unusual...familiarity Risque seemed to hold with this fae as she so forcefully gripped fairy's chin.

The fae's lips parted, clearly intending to implore the vicious woman and yet, any words he might have offered would have been useless. So many of them begged her, so many of them had pleaded with him in turn, those pitiful words were ones he had heard over and over again, so few of them novel anymore. The fae's efforts, however, were cut off by Risque's own anticipation, the woman declaring she would rip out his very tongue for uttering even a word - and how Tetradore so believed her. The feline watched as Risque's finger traced the very wound she'd created, relishing in the blood that smeared against his cheek. The very sensation of it seemed to pain the fae as he tried in vain to pull away, her nails only digging further into his flesh, pulling a scream from the man's lips. How Tetradore so detested that sound, particularly when the fae reminded him of someone he knew. His gaze deviated away from the trio, the man well aware that Risque was far too focused upon her victim to truly notice the panther and his dislike within the taste testing of her present.

He was ignorant of the glimpse of bloodlust that was mirrored within Risque's crystalline gaze, much less the desire that lingered within Darcy as the ebony feline shifted upon his perch, his tail wrapping around him in an effort to make himself more comfortable above the sea of balloons that gathered at his feet. It was only the abrupt sound of ripping fabric and popping buttons that drew his attention back towards the trio, the tattered cloth of the fairy's shirt still hanging in threads around his shoulders. Even Tetradore was aware of the manner in which Risque so seemed to inspect the flesh she'd uncovered, the woman's lustfulness well known to him - so too was the threatening, possessive manner in which Darcy so stared at her. How the cowboy despised sharing RIsque's affections with any and yet...their mistress was more than willing to indulge in her desires of the flesh with any who caught her fancy. In some ways, it might have saved the fae if he had fallen in the realm of appeasing the woman....though it was almost a worse fate, in Tetradore's opinion. A yawn crossed the feline's features, his jaws silently parting for a moment as Risque abandoned her 'toy' in an effort to find a blade she deemed acceptable for tonight.

Slowly, Tetradore's gaze refocused upon the two vampires as he watched the iron blade slice through the denim near effortlessly. His jeans soon fell in ribbons around his feet, revealing far more of the fae then Tetradore suspected made the man comfortable. The panther watched as Risque eyed the fae's groin, clearly finding her present...lacking in such a department - her very thoughts all the more evident as the tip of that blade found the man's groin. The scent of burning flesh filled his nostrils as Risque drew her blade over the fae's flesh, the were-cat all too used to that smell as the fae's screams filled his ears. How he begged her to stop, the fae pleading with her and yet, the delighted smile upon Risque's features spoke volumes of her intentions. How well Tetradore knew that look - even before she abruptly pulled back. Tetradore was entirely prepared for the fae's scream as that blade suddenly punctured flesh, prompting a fresh wave of blood to pour down his shoulder. It was difficult, sometimes, not to empathize with her victims. How well he knew what the fae was going through, of the agony she was capable of inflicting for her own sick amusement. Tetradore had been on the receiving end enough times and yet - it was that very thing that kept the panther from intervening, even as Risque licked the blood from her dagger.

Tetradore cared little for the intricacies within the taste of blood, it all tasted the same to him, the copper flavor tainting his mouth anytime he was forced to bite into flesh. The considerations of the pair of vampires over the fruity flavor meant little to the man, the feline instead content to draw some vague bemusement by how foul Darcy found the taste of bananas, of all things. It was perhaps petty of him to enjoy Darcy's incapability to enjoy that blood and yet...he took some small satisfaction from it all the same. Any such pleasure Tetradore drew from those mild observations, however, was abruptly squashed as Risque left her present to instead join the feline in front of her newest 'toy'. Her fingers reached out to run through his fur, her very touch prompting the jaguar to striking stillness as Risque's voice rang over the sobbing of the fae man. The soprano sound of Risque's voice drew Tetradore's attention away from the man Darcy half-dragged towards the very device the feline sat on. That sharp tug upon his neck immediately prompted a reaction from the cat, Tetradore rising to his feet wordlessly, only to leap effortlessly off the wooden rack and onto the floor at Risque's side.

The very action hardly released the pressure of the silver upon his neck, those prongs kept to purposefully bite into his ebony flesh. His jaws parted and yet, those feline vocal cords were incapable of producing that muffled groan his human ones might have offered in reaction to the pain of his burning skin. The emerald of his gaze turned upwards towards her, Risque garnering the entirety of his attention at that moment as she insisted she hadn't forgiven him just yet. For a poised moment, the were-panther was left staring at the icicle blue of Risque's gaze, the man at her very mercy before, abruptly, she dropped her hold upon him, those prongs falling back neatly against his skin to finally offer him some vague relief. A soft breath left his parted jaws, his head shaking ever so slightly in some effort to rid himself of the stinging pain that still remained. His respite hardly lasted long, however, before the oppression of Risque's affinity pressed upon him, ensnaring his very figure within her control. He hardly fought her, this fae certainly not worth the effort as his feet moved without his biding. The panther approached the table, his figure jumping upwards only to settle upon the fae, his very weight enough to leave the poor man beneath him gasping for breath.

His gaze remained upon the poor fae beneath him, Darcy already fastening the man's arms and legs to the edges of the wooden device. Tetradore's attention only drifted at the sharp sound of the Southern man's voice. His ears laced back against his skull, the feline offering those sharp words with a distinct hiss, his discontent evident in that very tone, even if he could hardly offer Darcy those words he truly wished to. It didn't matter what he was looking at, this fae was not Matteo, that very fact one he kept reiterating within his own thoughts. God, how he was going to hate watching this.....more so than his usual distaste for Risque's torture sessions.

This is my last goodbye