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.
Cull & Pistol
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.
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
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
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
my monsters are realthey're trained how to kill, these monsters can fight
they'll never say die, there's no goin' back
if I get trapped I'll never heal
Over the years, Tetradore had become sickeningly used to that painful ache that came from the metallic caress of his mistress' toys. Agony had become his constant companion during some of his more rebellious teenage years. The Alpha, in turn, had a high tolerance for pain near beaten into him. Though he was well aware of that discomfort of those spikes providing into his skin, it was hardly enough to do little more than prompt the occasional hiss from his lips. What he was far more aware of, and what he disliked a far greater degree, was the very fashion in which the Alpha was sprawled out bare on display for his mistress' pleasure. How he hated this very position, his wrists twisting in those bindings even in spite of the silver that tore at his skin in some vain pointless attempt to escape that fate he had become so literally bound to. His jaws clenched ever so slightly, the Alpha stilling with the very weight of his mistress's icicle irises settling upon his caramel flesh. How aware he was of the way her callous gaze graced his every swell and curve in contemplation of the extent in which she desired her vengeance.
She strode near purposefully towards him, her every movement filled with the languid grace of the felines she surrounded herself with. The emerald of his gaze never once shifted from her as she moved to his side as if keeping her within his view better prepared him to handle whatever was to come. What he didn't expect, however, was the simple flick of her wrist upon the handle of that modern take upon the aged old device. For a poised breathless moment, those cogs cranked at those levers and pulleys, the machine beneath him working like a well-oiled machine before, abruptly, Tetradore felt the effects of her flippant movement. Those cuffs unexpectedly tugged at his wrists, receding rapidly towards each edge of the mahogany surface. His body was quick to tighten as his limbs were pulled to the full extent of his reach, his brows furrowed with that burn of pain that first assaulted him, and yet, the rack seemed determined to pull him even further, yanking with such viciousness that his every muscle seemed to stretch in some effort to accommodate it. The very position made it impossible for the Were to avoid those silver spikes, each sharpened point digging fully into his back, bringing a low grunt to his lips that he strove so valiantly to swallow. For a moment, he tried to pull away from those restraints, and yet, Tetradore quickly found doing so only furthered the aching pain that assaulted him. He could feel those muscles tearing and yet even he was not quite prepared for that sharp relentless agony that suddenly exploded within his right shoulder. The very sound that accompanied that dislocation only served to bring that scream to his lips, this one a sound he was incapable of stopping.
His head rolled to the side, a soft groan on his lips as his chest rapidly rose and fell, the Alpha simply attempting to cope with the unrelenting sensations that his body was beset with. His every muscle upon display when each was so terribly taunt. Tetradore was vaguely aware of Risque shifting from his side, the woman quickly moving back in his view as she sought out of her beloved box of silver. How Tetradore hated that very box, the man had certainly experienced his fair share of evenings beneath the touch of her metallic instruments. The question was, however, which she'd choose tonight. Her selection of that dainty chained whip failed to produce even the slightest reaction from the Alpha, it hardly a blessing, nor his least favorite, and yet...at least he knew what to expect from it. Its bite was often quick and sharp only to disappear altogether. She was quick to return towards Tetradore's side, that delight all too visible upon her features as she let the barbed edge of the whip dangle over his flesh. The very touch of it upon his skin prompted a restrainted cry to his lips as the skin on his refined abdomen began to sizzle away. How hypnotized she seemed at watching his flesh simply burn away with each place she let that tip linger, the Alpha entirely unaware of that 'R' she carved into his skin so much as he was aware of the silver that dragged across his skin in a near endless manner. His head tilted upwards, that hiss intermixed with the occasional pained groan as Risque saw to that delicate flourish at the very end of her makeshift branding.
That relief he was given, as she drew away to inspect her work, was but temporary before the whistling sound of that whip filled the air, lashing angrily against his skin in a way that prompted Tetradore to visibly whince with each whipping bite that only served to drift lower and lower upon his fit physique. How aware he was of that wetness that caressed his skin at each line, trailing down his heaving sides. He could smell his own blood, her compliment only further cementing that which he already knew. The intensely vibrant green of his gaze shifted to meet her callous stare. Regardless of what she so put his body through, it had hardly been enough to break his soul - not this time. Those snarled words, however, fell drastically flat as his voice trailed off, his mind struggling to think of a worthy insult while he body was under such duress. That shock finally hitting his system and yet...how familiar he was with that sensation. How very....tired it made him. His attention, however, was forced to focus upon the present as Risque's pointed nail dug into his cheekbone, the woman near holding his face in a crushing grip as she inquired weather or not he wanted to utter those words again. His lips parted, though those sounds never left them as her affinity once again slammed into him, forcing the man to fall to silence. He was well aware of her hand, sliding down his physique, only to press sharply down, pushing the man back against the wooden surface. Those silver spikes only dug further into his skin, lodging themselves into his very flesh as Tetradore wheezed a breath of pain that he actively attempted to keep from her. It was petty, to force himself to silence like this, and yet, it was the only way the Alpha could rob her of her own sickened pleasure.
Her command, however, was one he hadn't expected, those first few syllables leaving his lips before he could swallow them. "I lo --" Tetradore clamped his mouth shut, fighting against those very affinities only for Risque's finger to find the very edge of her 'masterpiece'. Her finger digging into that wound, further agrivating it, prompted a near pathetic whine in the back of his throat. "...I..." He muttered begrudgingly, only for Risque to lean upon him, pressing her weight on his abdomen enough that the Alpha was pressed flat against those spikes, his blood flowing far more freely as those sharpened points to bury themselves completely within his frame. That cry of pain left his lips, his body near bucking beneath her weight in some effort to pull himself from those spikes - as useless as it was to win out in a raw game of strength with a vampire. "I love this!" He finally declared between those pants of agony, those words torn from him by her affinity - that pain demanding Tetradore's focus to the point that fighting her too had become simply impossible. Those words, however, seemed to appease her, that smug simper ever present upon her features as she finally released him, rising to her feet. Immediately Tetradore's back arched as much as he was able to, even in spite of the tension it added to his already taunt frame.
That reprieve he was given, however slightly, was something he was grateful for, even though Tetradore's arm felt as if it was on fire. He watched in silence as Risque smoothly glided towards her lover, her hand reaching out to caress his flesh in an almost sweet gesture. Those delicately whispered words, however, were enough to make Tetradore's head fall back upon the wooden surface he laid upon. How....well he remembered the last time that Darcy had been allowed to bite him, Tetradore hardly surviving that encounter and yet the memory of those jagged teeth had once been enough to cause him to become almost...obedient...for a time. The Were-King was hardly attentive to the perverse smile upon Darcy's lips, his own emerald eyes staring at the ceiling above him. That fae....was not worth this. How painful those reminders were - to close himself off from everyone. How...pathetically weak willed they had all made him, those relationships he'd fostered with Matteo's family...with his pack. He could have escaped tonight...if only for that silent compliance. God, how he was beginning to regret that mercy he'd shown.
Darcy's voice drew Tetradore from his thoughts, the Alpha offering his favored insult, only for that coldness of his mistress' gaze to shift towards him. Her command, however, was one he knew well she would follow through. Tetradore could feel the press of her power upon him, that threat alone enough to prompt him to fall into silence. He watched as Risque so offered her own hint of poetic justice to Darcy, the cowboy overly eager to take up that 'reward' he had been given. The emerald of his eyes followed Darcy as the vampire approached him, eying him as if he was nothing more then a steak to be consumed. He hardly anticipated Darcy's reach for his arm, the very release of his dislocated shoulder brought a sound of mixed relief and pain to his lips as it collapsed uselessly against his side. The very sensation of Darcy's hand pressing firmly upon his all too sensitive arm caused him to jerk away, albeit only to discover how much that hurt in turn. How aware he was of Darcy leaning down towards him, the flash of those fangs enough to spark the Alpha in one final desperate bid as he reached for his own affinity, it wholly slow to respond.
That trickle of stone had only just began to appear upon the flesh of his shoulder when Risque's voice rang through out the air. The very sound of it was enough to cause his stomach to sink. She shoed Darcy back, the vampire unexpectedly compliant as Risque herself stepped towards him. Her talons caressed the flesh of his arm, the woman so quickly discovering that ploy only to chide him as if he was merely a child. Her command was laced with her very power, that growl of irritation upon Darcy's lips hardly went unheard. It was, unfortunately, a demand that he was incapable of fighting, that stone disappearing into oblivion with the majority of his capabilities now that Risque had, once again, taken control of him. A soft breath left his lips and yet, Tetradore hardly made an effort to argue with her, her command for silence still too fresh within his mind. That slight gesture to carry on caused his gaze to shift back towards Darcy, the vampire offering their shared mistress a far too appreciative word of 'thanks'. A burst of vampiric speed brought the cowboy back towards Tetradore's side, the Alpha hardly even having a moment to register the vampire's presence again before his head was jerked roughly to the side, Darcy's fingers entangled in his brunette locks. Again that vampire's hand trapped his injured arm, leaning over him only to brush his lips against the Were's neck. The coldness of it brought a shudder to his frame and yet, Tetradore hardly had a moment to prepare himself before Darcy's razor teeth plunged into his flesh. The very sensation of it brought a strangled cry to his lips, one that faded into a soft whine as the vampire fed, those sharpened fangs nearly decimating his already destroyed shoulder in the process.
God...how...fucking tired he was....