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

I never feared the dark, no, I just became it;

Posted on November 18, 2020 by Risque

Ah, there they both were, on metaphorical hooks within her clutches, the room more like their prison and her sanctuary. One didn't need to be tied to be trapped in her web. Her mind continued to shift, mutate and grow with ideas as her evening unfolded before her like a bloom of night flowers that bled beautifully at her feet. There was something to be said...about torture. A divine poetry entwined with movement and timing and fluidity as she placed her barbs that deeply embedded far deeper than a superficial flesh wound. There was a wanton passion in it.. In the very way she executed each and every intimate whim of hers.

Yet in those moments before the fall.. She gave nothing to allude to her twisted mind's intentions. Not a single ounce of pleasure upon her face even though she'd felt it thrumming like a high in her veins. Tetradore took the brunt of it, with every artful flick of her wrist, a crank of his defenceless body, a slice of that whip.

Blood... undead, animal, and fae all mixed into a sweet ambrosia within that room that she breathed it in just to savour it. How could a being not yearn for it?

How different this night could have gone.. If only Tetradore played his part. If only Darcy hadn't misbehaved and stepped out of line even though he had more than compensated for his... misstep. Yet.. just as it could be unstiched it could be stitched back together and salvaged something from the wreckage of this night. Her birthday. How wrong she'd been to think Tetradore would play his role, had she not left a lasting enough impression on his short-sighted mind? When would he learn? Risque would have to shorten that sometimes invisible leash again, make him feel the bite of her fury. Make him fear her once more... far more than his foolish rebelliousness nature he refused to shake. One day. She was certain that even if he refused to be clay like Darcy had been.. She would chisel him like granite.. Or at the very least errode at this bullish nature of his. How? She'd never made any sense of it. It shouldn't have been possible and yet... there was that sense of challenge to be broken, time again, that curiosity if the last time would be what finally made him crack. Darcy had bloomed within her cruel experienced hands. He flourished like none that she'd known. Her pet, she was sure could flourish too if only she could extinguish that part of him that so retaliated against her. She had been certain she had crushed it before to nothing but pulverized ruin... and still. One day. She knew it, refusal to dismiss her pet entirely. One day he would break even if she had to break every last bone in his body to pulverised ruin. At the very least there were other ways she could satisfy herself. She found other ways to take from him. She took it any place she could, so long as he continued to slight her. Psychologically, body and soul, although the last seemed cause far more of a problem. That final one... seemed to mend itself... when it should have long since shattered.

He could have been so much more. Ah, but.. Even as defiant as he was, he'd always have his uses. A puppet on a string, although they were more like chains with hooks.

The hellish queen had no shortage of games to concoct, she could quite honestly be here all night. Darcy seemed to take pleasure in watching her work and needle her masochistic magic on someone other than himself. It was no hidden thing that he loathed her pet, resented him, wanted to eliminate him from her side. That another male could provide useful to her, one that she could find amusement within was unbearable and yet fueled such power. But with volatile power, as potent as it was... came an unpredictability he navigated so well.

Those vile words, she'd resented with a vehemence had Risque near compelled to gut her pet further. Still he mocks her. Well not for long. Did he want to be muzzled in every way? Oh, what an amusing thought. That her pet wanted this punishment.... Maybe he was more perverse than she thought? How intriguing. Why hadn't she thought of this before, that idea to control her pretty beast's words. As though making him say them outloud would train them into him. All she needed was a little more pain to prompt him to speak. It didn't take long. It never did. This after all was a language she was fluent in. The bloodied, broken man upon her rack visibly strained through perfect panted breath his love for her torment. She could see it almost pained him more than the actual lashes across his flesh. How she revelled in it. "Ah, that was not so hard was it?" She uttered almost far too sweetly, as tender notes fell softly from her sinful lips. How amusing it was. She was sure to play with this again soon. What else might she want to hear him say? That she deserved to hear? Over and over again.

He obviously loathed it, that lack of control and it fed her own demand for it. The alpha whose strings were her own. He would never be free. Not his voice, not his will, not any piece of him. But she was not done, no, and she had not forgotten the lover who lurked so quietly near, a voyeur who fed his own sadistic desires. Not even hatred could disguise Darcy's own lust for blood.

But what to do with him. Would he be next upon that rack? Yet... he had done a true act of dedication and devotion that he displayed when he harmed himself in that desperate need for her approval... and she was truly impressed with the jewels that kissed her wrist. So much effort... he'd put in, all for her. It was distracting, the bracelet encrusted with gemstones glinted in the dim light in the room, the way diamonds should. Then again diamonds always looked good upon her. Most things did, at least in accordance to her own high regard of self. But it would seem that tonight she was not immune to the fae blood and jewels that tended to put her in a better mood than she could be. The she-devil was prone to be an indiscriminate nuclear blast when her rage was lit. Yet it took no fool to see that Tetradore was the wrench in the cog. Her emerald eyed was the one who sought to make it his personal mission to ruin her birthday. So.. She ruined him instead. Yet was hardly finished with him either.

It was easy to put most of that blame on her feline. He was an eager target after all. It could have gone differently tonight. It could have been the three of them set to destroy a single target. What a rare treat it would have been. Darcy seemed to gloat in it even though he hardly left this room unscatheed. His loyalty tested to the last fiber of his being. A lot was revealed tonight, something she'd not soon forget.

She could see his wariness etched upon his features as Risque first spoke of a chance of revenge. So cautious he tread to avoid her ire tonight. He was near desperate to remain in the she-devil's favour. Wasn't that what this was? Some part of her enjoyed that uncertainty that lingered within him. The hellish queen was nothing if she did not keep what was hers on their toes. Risque allowed her slender manicured fingers to trail across Darcy's neck from the phantom wounds that were now seamlessly healed. She remembered. It was a mark she could not ignore any longer. That confusion that near melted from Darcy's face and turned into something of potential. His lips transformed into a horrific smile that nearly displayed all those weapon-like teeth as the potential for revenge. Revenge upon one of his most hated enemies. It was beyond rare to allow anyone else bite her feline. The feline queen was nothing but possessive of what was hers... and her lover's bite was like a death sentence to most victims. The few moments of reprieve (if one could call it that) were afforded to Tetradore whom still suffered upon that rack, strewn out like part of the decor. His ragged breath could be heard, the silver prongs bit and burned into his back, that pressure from those chains pulling him part still taut and his weight only cursed him further. She could hear his heartbeat that had sung a vampire's song.

With every moment that ticked by she imagined Tetradore would steep in his regret. Good.

He could hear what was to come, which afforded him no comfort that this night was over.. her little alpha who was stripped of that title when within this very room witch his fate so entirely reliant on her. He was what she allowed him to be. The one with true control. Her pale hypnotic gaze shifted from Darcy to Tetradore in that moment. He would not be permitted to die. No, if he were to suffer that fate it would be by her own hand and she was yet to give up on him yet.

Risque sweeping movements carried her toward the dislocated man who appeared like a feast on a silver platter. Naked, broken, weak and forced into submission. He was quite the sight.

With Risque's blessing Darcy began to undo the cuff's clasp so he could have access to his neck. His touch alone caused Tetradore to abruptly jerk away from him as if his hand was coated with the acid of his own saliva. He moved with a swiftness that didn't betray his eagerness. As if he attempted to not appear too eager. The only rule was to not kill her pet. It was a simple rule. To earn his lover's favour and exact revenge whilst doing it was... a reward worth behaving for. She was sure.

She watched on with a sharp icy keenness, her head tilted slightly to the side as if to get a better view just as Darcy crouched and prepared himself to sink his fangs in.. when she saw it. Felt it. That shift in her defiant cat. Still fighting, even when he was so frail. One could admire such will if he had not once again defied her. The nerve. It would have been an intriguing scene to play out naturally. Perhaps she should have and yet... She moved forward, one fluid step was all she needed along with her voice which was like a command to stop. Darcy had obeyed, she could see his reluctance in his very movements to be offered something he'd clearly wanted only to be stripped at the last second. It was well within her power to do so. Those pins and needles she left caused a look of question within his mismatched eyes. She could see it upon his face.Without a word of bitterness he melted back into the shadows before the revelation of that armour. He had missed it as she'd anticipated he would. That very shift in her feline's skin. He hadn't known. That exuberance of his bite would have seen to those fangs broken.

Darcy growled in clear outrage and yet little more than that. The man undoubtedly enraged at the prospect of what would happen to his teeth should he have bitten into that armour plated skin. She was unaware that she had intervened to protect him. She'd never done it before and if it surprised her she refused to let it show here and now. With the quiet of a shadow, Darcy appeared at her side with a look that appeared like gratitude.... That look disturbed her more than Tetradore defying her time and time again. It was followed by a singular phrase of genuine thanks, that had it have been more she would have struck. Before it was too late, he had noticed... what she had done. What had she done exactly? She refused to linger on it, forcing it from her mind in exchange for something she did know but not before she stared. It took a moment before the simple act of blinking returned to her as if wiping away the thought. After all there was a show about to start. Tetradore, it would seem, had what little of his fight that was left... stripped from him with her command. It was then that Darcy moved with far less patience than before. A burst of impressive speed that left him like a blur before Tetradore once more, she swore there was a savage glint of hunger within that he could no longer hide, one could describe it as visceral.

Once more Darcy was above him a shadow of doom that could not be stopped. Tetradore had only prolonged his inevitable fate. He was no match for a vampire's strength in that very moment. Risque's pale, icy gaze watched.. A twisted hunger for the anticipation that built like right before a drop in a song. There was nothing gentle about the vampire as he restrained his prey further and forced Tetradore's moppy head to the side to expose the unblemished neck before him. There was nothing gentle in the harsh way his teeth sunk into her feline's flesh. The strangled cries from Tetradore prompted her own instinct to rise. Hunger.. Even though she had fed in kind that night she was not immune.

How vicious that bite was. It was like watching a mauling. It was a wonder he didn't relish in a powerful roar as Darcy appeared like a lion, only lethal teeth in that moment. Yet what a scene it was to observe.. It stroked a dark hidden yearning inside of her like one would pet a cat.

The sound of those harsh pulls were near greedy, even though those weapon-like teeth had made a wound that made blood flow a simple thing with very little persuasion. He fed like a starved beast. It was a brutal and honest thing, like so very few things in this world were.. She could still hear that fading whine from Tetradore's lips that indicated he was reaching a point where it would be far too easy to miss and get carried away. She did not want him dead. It was the very point she waited for.

A little beyond that point of vulnerability when a man had resigned his fate. Where death was just within reach and yet not close enough. Death would be a relief she would not allow him. Death was not Darcy's prize. She might have stolen a second or two to simply enjoy that view. One would think that the fae blood was her dessert and while it was exquisite, so was this. Like a rich sorbet melting on her tongue. She expected him to immediately step away from the unmoving Tetradore when she said so.

"Enough." she hissed, like whip sailing with force through the air just before it cracked, a sonic boom to ricochet even upon the sound deadening walls. Her own desire made her voice sound almost richer. There was no room for argument. She waited for her lover to raise his head, his mouth bloody with gore from his feeding.

A moment longer and perhaps it would have been too much. Risque knew the limits of the body and the now pale Tetradore had come precariously close. "What a sight.." She all but purrs in appreciation, her voice still thick with a newfound desire that hadn't been before. She slid through the dimly lit room toward her thoroughly defeated cat just to observe the damage done to him. A neck for a neck.. She had idly drew a finger through it as if she was grading it in some fashion. As if to deep if that blood debt was paid or not.

Tetradore would take a while to heal. Perhaps... some time within Syn would do him well. Her bloodied finger painted her lips in a sensual way. Hm. How his blood sang with power of an alpha. While it had a distinctly animal taste... She had grown an acquired taste for it. After all it was also very much human too. It was power and that sang in her veins and now Darcy's too.

Her gaze remained downcast as she eyed that wound, Tetradore's curly locks tangled with blood and sweat. "He always bleeds well." She added before she snapped her icy gaze to meet Darcy's. He could have drained him without a second thought.

She could see that primal energy still banging at the bars within him she was sure of it. Or perhaps she was merely projecting?

"Take him to his enclosure.. Where he can sleep." And dream. She suspected he would be asleep for a while. Those words were loaded with a malevolent promise that Tetradore's torment was far from over. Even in sleep.. He could not escape her. She moved toward the heavy door toward the exit, her hand rested upon the handle as if she considered what she intended to do with Darcy. That had been the recurring question as of late. There was a party still going on above. Did she mean to make him sit through her opening the mountain of gifts that had awaited her? Or did she mean something entirely different. She alluded to none of it before she slipped out of that room. "Then find me." Her voice seemed to linger like perfume. Ah the obscurity of all that she was... there were at least some things that never changed.