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

Darcy Blackjack

Everyone knows I'm a little twisted;

Posted on April 12, 2020 by Risque

out for blood

she's somethin' so cold-blooded with

a deep killer instinct

This pestilence was bad for business and everything else, Syn had its doors closed for over a month now and the sinister standstill the world seemed to be suspended within brought a rare forced calm to the city. Syn included. She refused to have her club, her home riddled with disease filled creatures, no matter what that law said. Her heavy doors would have been sealed for business until the Risque saw fit. It did not mean they were not still vigilant and prepared for a possible assault from their plotting enemies, no, defences had been well fortified and reinforcements at the ready within a moments notice. So long as the cats didn't get infected with the virus they were ready for war. But that unvoiced apprehensiveness of that plague still lingered, after all, it was the very thing that nearly stole her life. The very thought making Risque far more... proactive with the unseeable looming threat.

Risque not entirely sure there was not more amiss and yet...that lull and break from the daily bustle was not the worst thing to happen. Ah, even though the saying about idle hands was entirely too true and yet... a true break... almost forced upon her had that had been almost unheard of who always had something brewing. Even still, locked up, there was surprisingly no shortage of things to do either, Darcy was an easy focus, her staff at her whims, eager to serve if only not to get on the wicked queen's bad side.. Cade had gone into hiding it would seem, there was no word about his impending attack. No intel or suspicious activity that seemed to be worthy of note. It was surprising as it was... peaceful as its ever been. It was dreadfully quiet and in turn she found a strange solace.

Sacrosanct itself looked like a ghost town and part of the woman that utterly loathed most beings enjoyed the lack of inhabitance. Money was certainly not a problem despite Darcy's own fretting and Risque's only spending habits. He was wise enough to say nothing and yet how she knew the vampire's tells. The undead cowboy yet to understand her own standing when it came to wealth. It was enough that she could live off the interest of her accumulated wealth if she sold even one or two of her many assets and consolidated. A lifetime of wealth already at her fingertips. For what was money without power? Risque inclined to believe money could buy power to some extent. But it did nothing for reputation. True power. One Risque had solidified for herself within this carcass of a city, where only the most cutthroat rose while the rest writhed beneath her feet, a carpet of servitude for her wicked heels to strut upon.

There was not a single room in all of Syn that didn't possess the lingering fresh scent of cleaners, the felines contained only to specific rooms. No one but herself, the caretaker and Darcy were permitted to touch the felines that were susceptible to the disease. Not that many were brave enough to take their chances unless absolutely necessary. Even with superhuman healing, the idea of being mauled was enough to deter most.

However, as the days of quarantine dragged on, it became quite clear that the planned trip for her undead cowboy's birthday was... cancelled. It irritated her that a place like Vegas could simply close simply to inconvenience her. How unaffected Darcy seemed to be even though the whereabouts of that trip had all been concealed from him. The man was far more concerned with far simpler things like most men.. Like that little deal that had been forged all those months ago in the south, just outside of a rundown Bootbarn of all places. She was certain she would not have to withhold her side of the bargain and yet.... There was rarely a day that went by that he reminded her in some way shape or form or the thought crossed her own mind. She should have burned those cursed boots the night after they returned home, simply glad to rid themselves of all things southern. Yet... what harm would come of allowing him one... night? He had been nothing but devout, delivering time and time again. She had publicly claimed him as her own. Why not... one night? The almost morbid curiousity of what that would even look like. Would he hang himself with the rope of opportunity he was given? How certain she was that she could gain back that control just as quickly as she would offer it.. Forbidding him to ever speak of such things again. Yet... she said nothing of it and now that night was finally here.

So much has changed between them as much as she chose to ignore it. It was a wonder in itself that she had managed to share her own space with him without ripping his throat out from his stomach. Especially... during this quarantine. She found herself enjoying the quiet, the undisturbed moments, the fucking... the random whims, the rearranging... the remodelling... and rare moments of perfect solitude. Not hearing the pounding of those loudspeakers night after night... or to deal with the masses that returned to practically throw their money for but a night they would never forget. There was none of it.

Darcy was keen to remind her the night before of just what night it was. How she knew already, irritated that their trip had been cancelled and those last-minute alterations had to be made. The staff knew what to do and none of them.... Were thrilled at the prospect knowing their odds were not in their favour. Even though they feigned their contentment at having to most likely to lose their most valuable belongings in a game against Darcy... If they could not go to Vegas... Risque brought it here... well.. With her little twist.

It was rare for Risque to awaken before her lover. Her pale eyes fluttering open in the darkness of the silent room, her mate motionless beside her, sleeping like the dead. Risque's gaze narrowed upon him, taking but a rare moment to study him in that peaceful sleeping form.

How vulnerable his motionless form looked, his expression almost content. How easy it would have been to awaken the birthday boy with a sudden start, instead she all but stared, unsure what she was looking for, considering in that very moment. Risque left that bed to freshen up, growing bored. She changed into that dark blue lingerie she intended to wear for today. She examined herself in the mirror knowing just how she looked in quality lingerie. The sheer lacy fabric leaving little to the imagination. She even took a moment to snap a sensual photo before sending it to Darcy's phone. She knew at least he would appreciate the utter perfection of her sinful curves in that revealing and flattering lingerie that accentuated her feminine physique. She finally returned to that bed, fully dressed and ready, only to find him still motionless. The woman nearly irritated at his defiant sleeping form. She peered at the time, noticing just how early it still was.

Risque moved forward, her feet padding silent and controlled toward her resting lover, coming up to his side like a prowling cat. She was sure he would sense her movements, or wake as she slid her form over his own, crawling easily so that her leg draped over his body, straddling him at his hips, her hands pressed against his shoulders to keep him restricted should he attempt something entirely foolish.

Her lips met his ear, her cheek brushed against his own where she whispered his name and even that sounded like a demand."Darcy.." She tasted that very word, her minty breath trickling against his skin. She then pressed her lush lips to his throat where she allowed the press of her razer sharp fangs to just press against his skin as if he needed more coaxing, a sign of ownership, of dominance over what was hers. It was only the tiniest pinprick of blood she unleashed and yet as always, there was a sensual promise for more. "Keep your hands on the bed." She ordered and yet rich, that faint accent forever present.

Yet, while her actions were meant to coax more than just his awareness but awaken his body that she played like a marionette. She considered keeping him here like this today, to bind his wrists to the very bedpost and do as she pleased. Those plans that had been made could easily be forgotten... Perhaps the promise of sabotage making that all the more delicious, or perhaps she just wanted to hear him beg, that dominant part of her forever conflicted with even giving an inch.

She considered all the ways she could exhaust him so completely that he might forget all about their little deal. The skilled woman arched her back just so as if to press of her body far more firmly against his own hips before she pressed her lips to his own. Her hands running along his body and yet was is every bit a captive to her. The feline queen's hold unyielding as her sensual kisses pressed to his skin along with the ardent press of her teeth, leaving a little trail of devious marks of her fangs upon his exposed flesh. That duvet had long since being discarded, bunched up at the foot of the bed. "Oh the things I can make your body do.." An ominous promise he knew all too well and within it dwelled an endless depth of meaning he knew all too well which lurked within desire-laced words. Each lazily placed kiss was met with her sharpened fangs, still shallow and yet just enough bite to make a lesser man squirm. But he knew her brand of pleasure that so often included the use of her fangs. The exquisite and yet intoxicating merger of pleasure and pain she had mastered to an art.

Her fingertips trickle downward to find their way to the band of his boxers, she rose her gaze along his chiselled body to meet his two-toned gaze. "Attends une minute.." (Wait a minute) she murmured in french against his hip bone that she had recently just marked getting closer and closer to the man's groin as if to indicate just where she intended to have her fangs and mouth to graze next. Only she does not continue, but begins a torturous pause.

In a sudden moment, she purposely avoided giving any attention at all, withholding any amount of satisfaction he could gather from her touch. The night before had been all about her own pleasure, leaving his thoroughly unchecked. This morning, tormenting his body and allowing it no relief was almost cruel and yet how she enjoyed this game. She knew how that anticipation would only build. "I suppose this will have to wait.. We have plans for your birthday." She uttered almost nonchalantly, allowing her gaze to sweep over his form only to catch that distinct look upon his face.

"Don't look at me like that. Unless you would prefer to not leave this room at all.... But to do so would void our deal." She chided, the trap had been set. That melodious voice rang clear, deceptive, that peircing stare as she watched his expression. Ah, she had not forgotten part of his birthday present that she had agreed to, only this was the first time she voiced acknowledged it out loud. The rarest gift she had not offered anyone for as long as she was reborn.

Control. A gift she had not offered a soul. Surely he wouldn't squander the rarest of prizes for immediate gratification alone.

There was a light knock on the door.

"Ah, birthday breakfast." she announced before untangling her dressed from him, leaving him upon that bed.

Risque did not immediately move to the door, content to allow the vampire on the other side of that door to wait as she fished out those cowboy boots from the depths of her closet. She put them on, not without great hesitation. Did she really need the boots? She slipped them on, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the act, with all the time in the world. When she saw fit, adjusting her clothes she then strutted purposely toward the door, allowing him a good look at the buttery skin-tight jeans she wore. The vampire at the door looked at Risque with an absolutely dumbfounded expression, quick to avert his gaze, he gaped, his mouth hung open as if words were about to come out and yet didn't. Randal for as many brain cells he lacked, he knew better than comment on the attire, or anything he may have seen. A respectful greeting was uttered before releasing the bound human, warm to the touch within Risque's hold. A few words were exchanged, the staff were less than pleased and yet begrudgingly ready and probably cursing quarantine with every ounce of their being. They would be wise not to utter their discontent in front of her, their compliance expected and required. Risque closed the door in Randall's face before her attention returned to Darcy once more. Human, his favourite.

But first, they feast.

you better run

the full moon's rising.