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

Hold your breath, dim the lights;

Posted on January 24, 2021 by Risque

out for blood

she's somethin' so cold-blooded with

a deep killer instinct

As it would appear, Risque, liked what was hers kept upon perilous grounds. How she enjoyed witnessing them walking barefoot upon that metaphorical shattered glass to observe their resilience or their failure. What made a man wither and crumble? They all possessed it, that weakness, that breaking point she so often sought. Darcy had his fair share of arduous tasks, like the great triumphs he needed to pass to even get within reach of the place he remained, at her side. Her mate. An unfamiliar term that still rolled about her mind like unpolished diamonds and yet he still kept that very title, in all its obscurity. Risque was noncommittal to the very end, at least until that fateful night. She ensnared him, tightened that leash they both already knew that was there... and acknowledged it. To acknowledge it was to give it power. To give it power was to give it substance. It meant something, Risque just couldn't figure out what exactly. Yet the fact she hadn't executed him was telling enough. But the night was young and oh how her mind writhed in its potential. It was a seemingly impossible task to flourish while the weak were weeded out and burned so early on. How he had become far beyond mere potential and into something else. A different beast she had forged somehow... she wondered if she always knew. Some innate part of her, or was it mere chance alone? No matter what task she lay before him, he tackled it with a violent thirst for it.

Tonight, even despite the uniqueness of it all, was no different. Another challenge he embraced with fervour. It was a minefield placed before him, sensitive and perilous as they came. He knew it, he had to. How even despite her curiosity of a commitment she had made all those moons ago, she somehow set her lover up to fail. Or had she truly? But tonight, it was almost like she had set up herself to fail. Or so it would appear upon outward appearance. She didn't need to use her illusions to craft them. A useful little trait she learned long ago. Risque could see her lover's uniquely cunning mind take every last sliver of knowledge from the past and use it as a tool to navigate her tonight. How the prize at the proverbial end of the tunnel was simply far too sweet to give up without a fight. He had only one play, just as she did in that game of cards. After all, how often did she give him the equivalent of ambrosia within his cup? An addictive, heady thing. She dangled control before his very face, teased him with her alluring body... tempting him through her wide array of intricate tests. Yet he remained single-minded as though there was nothing he could possibly want more than that glimpse of control in one of the most vital areas she offered little, the bedroom. Even though his confidence flapped like a tattered flag, he seemed to march on, refusing to let the beings in that room to witness that weariness he felt for his unpredictable queen in that very moment. His hand possessed an impossible choice and how Risque knew it. To lose on purpose would only show his weakness. But to win, that took... more than any man she had known. His boldness rippled down the lines of their matehood. Not even Risque knew how she would react to that blow. She was not a woman accustomed to losing.

How he embraced that very sentence, in whatever form. His once confident demeanour shaken to the core. As she intended. After all, he was hers in all ways. Hers to forge, to break down, to temper like Damascus steel. Enhancing him in ways even he was likely blind to. It was like a sick fascination, really. But somehow, more. Something intangible. Something she needed to be well in control of. It was like she just couldn't help herself which was entirely the opposite of control. Yet not for a single second did she show it. She was well aware she fed his prior boldness. She had allowed him to feed with her. She had given him a chance to win. She toyed with his desires like it was one of her favoured pastimes and truly it was. How cruel it was to make him wonder, to accept his fate time and time again.

Yet, he did deserve punishment. That much was clear. That dominant woman needing punishment in return for causing her to feel the sensation of losing even though she knew there was no other way. How she detested that feeling, even if it was a mere game of cards. A game that held far too much weight for him to deny. Yet, in order to achieve any of it, he needed to win. He needed to prove himself worthy in spite of the risk. The hellish queen needed to deem him worthy to claim even a semblance of that control she had always dangled and pulled away at the very last moment. How confusing it all seemed, outwardly and yet how orderly it unfolded, meticulously within the she-devil's mind. His obedience was something she demanded and yet he willingly offered as he trailed behind her like he was walking to his final destination. He missed the predatory, closed-lipped lush smile that adorned her face for the briefest of moments. Almost imperceptible to the naked eye, that vanished by the time they reached her office.

There was no denying the way she paused in front of that very wall, was as purposeful as everything she did. Every second pounded like a heartbeat that neither of them possessed. She still said nothing. Not even in the privacy of her office where they had once spoken as freely within the bed they now shared. The silence was agony. She led him swiftly down that unexpected corridor next. Today, her hair was allowed to fall in their natural blue-black waves that cascaded almost down the entirety of her back, swaying in time with her fluid gait. A gait that was different but no less smooth with the boots that adorned it. Never did she think she would wear cowboy boots within her club even though not a single person dared to comment! Those boots, that very outfit was like a constant reminder of those stakes.

How she knew that to him, her cowboy, she was his walking wet-dream incarnate, flaunted it with emphasis. Yet how many times had his very dream turned into sadistic pleasurable nightmares? But within that corridor, she didn't need to look at him to taste his palpable confusion. How different this was from her norm! They moved through unchartered territory after all. She had little doubt that he was combing through every minute detail as if searching for a sign. Anything to latch onto. A pattern, something to indicate her very plans for him.

He would find none.

When she brought him down those steps, that echoed hallowed sounds of their muted footsteps she almost longed for the threatening sound of her familiar heels upon the ground. In a flash of a second, which was all she needed to have him slammed and pinned against that mirrored wall, that cracked beneath the sheer force of her assault leaving her cowboy nothing but coiled muscle. The instinct roaring at him to fight back and actually considered to indulge. To rebel?! Now of all nights. As if he would win. Oh, how it seemed to exhilarate her as much as infuriate her. The thought of that clash she would quickly slam and pulverize to ruin beneath her boot-clad foot. Yet the struggle, the submission after a heated battle never ceased to...appeal to that domineering nature. To force every part of him to submit all over again. It had been a long time since she had to instill such a lesson within her lover. Perhaps it was due time. She was dangerously fixated upon that moment. As if expecting something to come of it as her hypnotic gaze bore into him. Every last detail absorbed like a black hole. She was never more deadly. No heartbeat, no breath. Just her and whatever she decided to do with him. How she demanded that control between them at that very moment.

Yet, it was like he thought better of it, one minute his body braced for attack and the next he is submissive. The simple immediacy was impressive, the control he possessed to will it so. How close he was for putting a wrench in her own calculations. It would seem that was not reserved for tonight, as he played the role she anticipated of him. But his minor flash of dominance would not be forgotten, no... She rarely ever did with such as an absorbent mind of her own. Yet she refused to give up the way she pinned him as if daring those lost tendrils but a final time, offering him a single free hand to attempt to do something so painfully foolish.

But here he was, so pliant, so appealing. She wanted to taste that moment. Swallow it whole. It fed all the parts of her that demanded control. That submission persisted, at least for a little while before it broke away into something else as he drew in a deep and full breath as if tasting that moment all on his own. How those emotions all blended and blurred into.. Want. As if all that unspent energy needed to go somewhere and it did, straight below the belt. Darcy was never ashamed in his yearning for her in all ways. The never-ending want of her hellish mind games, craving every last drop of it with an unquenchable thirst.

His body gave him away. Men rarely able to conceal it. That free hand refused to move as he welcomed whatever punishment she saw fit. He would free-fall into it, even if it were akin to jumping out of a plane with no parachute. Her words pressed in the form of a command he willingly obeyed. Shutting his eyes, she robbed him of another sense. Part of her wanted to take more. Tonight he appeared to be far more reactive. Full of charged masculine energy... One she cultivated from nights of her own pleasure and denying him a single drop of gratification except for what he received in doing the pleasuring. How she enjoyed him this way... wanting nothing more than to taste that very moment and she did so.. Allowing her wet, velvet tongue to slide, languidly across his lip to his cheek, leaving a glistening trail before she demanded he open his mouth. Even if that reluctance crept inside of his mind, hopeless in uncertainty and left no option but to obey.

There were many things that entered her mind then. All the countless things she could do to all at the tip of a precipice in her mind. Left with the distracting sight of that key dangling from his lips, with his eyes still sealed obediently shut, unmoving, waiting for her next command... with surprising patience. Waiting for more, as if some unseen punishment was set to come crashing down mercilessly upon him. She stepped away smoothly. Leaving him like that.. Relishing in his uncertainty, a punishment in its own. It was only when that permission was granted to open his eyes that he did so. His vision taking a moment to acclimate from his absence of sight to the light that now invaded his sharp nocturnal eyes. Her words slid from her lips as fluid as she was. She waited for that recognition to settle upon his face. The keychain seemed to ensnare his attention for a moment longer than it should. She studied his chiselled features as his mind seemed to ensnare upon this sudden change of trajectory. Her cowboy was quick to associate it with his boxers. Now that she had noticed its recurring theme, she could not rid her mind of it as begrudgingly as it infused its way there. She was left associating Darcy with that very symbolism that she felt had significantly more meaning than an adored pattern. It was the only words of recognition he afforded it before he suddenly burst off like a bullet into that garage to seek out that hulking vehicle, placed in the back. In an instant, he was in front of it, examining it as if he wondered if it was a figment of his mind. Really, it was an impressive truck. But she hardly understood why he was so enamoured by the notion of them. He seemed to reach out to touch that glossy black surface affectionately as Risque moved toward the scene that was near disturbing to witness.

He was smitten.

She hadn't anticipated this kind of reaction from him. He had to examine every curve of it, as though it were a woman's body rather than metal. His fingers lingered upon that cold metal, then equally took that studious examination to the black painted wheels and the upgraded exhaust... Finally, to the lights of all things! Surely he had seen some of the best that money could buy in her garage already and he hardly looked at her exotic cars in the same fashion. But this. This imposing hulk of a truck seemed to appeal to him immensely.

As if it could ever be superior to her army of cars! Risque observed that strange reaction within her mate...expecting it to end and it didn't. It was like she didn't exist. Irritation swam to the surface as if he was oblivious to her presence entirely.. To her it was just a truck and yet to her undead cowboy it seemed like so much more. Perhaps she should have gotten him something less impressive. Nothing should have been more impressive than her. Yet, that utter transfixed fascination that seemed to seize her lover in such a peculiar way. She purposefully positioned herself within view, noticing her own reflection within that glossy, polished black surface. Perhaps she might force him to live in it for a time or deny him from touching it entirely. Several considerations flit behind her vast pools for eyes. How quickly his sudden besotted demeanour would surely fade. Risque the fickle creature that she was, demanded an impossible balance.

Darcy's eyes then landed upon her once more as if he felt the tug of her irritation, quick to ease over with a balm of gratitude. Only her mind far more focused more importantly upon the mention of what she might do. Hit him? Is that what he thought? Didn't he know there were a million other things she could have done. Could still do? Far worse than striking him. How sometimes the simple sharpness of a strike was an effective tool and yet she would hate to be predictible in any fashion. A slow but easy predatory smile tugged upon the corner of her lips, displaying but a hint of her sharpened petite but no less deadly fangs. "What makes you think I still wont?" She questioned, her perfectly manicured brow rose sharply, her arms crossed indignantly. Yet he was far too... excited by that truck as he promptly opened those doors. The fresh scent of new-car smell blasted her, distracting her. There was nothing like that scent. That very interior impressed her more than the rest of the beastly truck, the inside designed with the quality of her exotic fleet... and far more spacious. She had to wordlessly climb into that vehicle that towered over her fleet, taking a moment to settle within the large comfortable seat. He looked entirely boyish as he couldn't help that grin bloomed when the truck roared to life with the a press of a button.

Who would have thought that this truck would have prompted this reaction within her mate? She knew he would like it. But to this degree? Oh, he seemed thrilled like a child given the keys to a candy shop and no limits. She eyed him closely, any lingering irritation shifted to curiosity of that abnormal behaviour she prompted within her lover. When was the last time she felt that way? That almost giddy excitement? He seemed completely unaware of her probing, penetrating stare that settled upon him. That question about what she thought about that purr that snapped her out of that fixation. Her mate at her side using the word 'love' to describe such a sound. It was a different sound in comparison to the deafening sound of those exotic cars. The truck however possessed far more bass, like a rumbling resonating growl. Yet it still failed to move her as it seemed to move him.

"It purrs like the engine was named after." She said plainly. "A Hellcat." She gestured idly toward that engine, concealed by that hood with those jutting viper-like vents. It looked intimidating like the vampire she purchased it for. Certainly a lavish gift she could easily afford and yet never did until this night.

They drove off into the night, the intimidating truck sent many of those much smaller cars scattering from their path. She had to give the truck one thing. It was a beast, by sheer size alone. He took to the roads, as he commanded that vehicle like they were being chased or rather chasing down anyone in their way like the predators they were. The she-devil was aware of stolen glances of his eyes upon her figure. Those drives were actually one of the few pastimes she actually enjoyed. Risque enjoyed the unmatched, powerful fury of those cars.

Especially now, when the world was shut down and all routine obliterated as they knew it. Darcy's gaze returned to the road before them, taking them further and further away from the sinful kingdom she reigned supreme. It was certainly not the last look he would steal, his mind already reeling with the prospect of the unspoken elephant in the room. That part that came next. After all, this very outfit that adorned her figure was not one she would select for herself in these modern times. The outfit was far plainer than the woman who wore it even though it hugged and flattered her body, the shirt itself like a second skin that threatened to show the skin of her toned midsection. How unconventional her mate was, that this was the attire he yearned for. Or that this was the vehicle he had always coveted.

The truck took those roads with a surprisingly smooth grace even though it would certainly fail to equal her car's speed or the agility they possessed. Risque barely felt a single divet upon the paved road as they practically flew.

She hardly questioned where he intended to take them, content to enjoy that smooth ride. One might say she was awfully close to admiring the interior when Darcy's question slipped forth. How did she know what to buy? "Are you truly that surprised? I have excellent taste in all things." Expensive taste. "I know quality just as I know... how to pick a car. I saw enough trucks in the south for a lifetime. I simply picked it." Her lightly accented words filled that cabin as if it were obvious.

"It has 702 horsepower.. Impressive for a beast.. It's equal to.... One of those Porsches.. Yet I doubt it will match its speed being.. So large." She interjected, her hand pressed to the console, scanning the countless features. While she didn't know trucks, it was only a branch from the tree she did know. Cars. It was at that moment that she grew aware of her lover's intention as he drove a newfound direction as if he had a place in mind where he wished to go. Darcy coaxed that vehicle off the highway, far from his usual path and into territory far less travelled. After exiting the highway she hadn't seen a single car for at least a mile. Soon, they drove up an incline, surrounded by a forested area, darkening the route they took. The ended up outside the city limits, but not far enough away to observe the light it still cast. It was not long before Darcy pulled into a vacant spot to a common lookout point.

The view of the city from there was impressive, the lights brightly winking at them in its various glowing hues. Yet, she seemed unmoved. Unable to find that tight unimpressed expression from her feminine features as she found them in another forest... on yet another birthday. Still, it was in view of that impressive city she had made her kingdom, far from were territory.... But she could not help but be distinctly reminded how spectacularly bad that hunt had ended up on her own day. As if to make matters worse Darcy began to speak, his southern drawl smoothly explaining that this was some kind of make out point. Did she hear that correctly?

Did Darcy really bring her to a make-out point? Where hormonal teenagers took their dates hoping to reach some base that led to heavy petting and if they were lucky, more. It was all but dead now. With the invasion of that virus, most people took to staying at home. But then there were Risque and Darcy surrounded by the darkness of the forest, spring dampness and natural rot in the air, the scent of the newness of that truck could not even drown out the smell of pine and forest.

The admittance soon followed that he had eaten several teenagers at this very spot which she supposed shouldn't have surprised her and did. It was mixed with a needle of amusement. He took her to a spot that was supposed to be pretty. Where supposedly 'everyone' came to make out. Like she was supposed to be clumped in with 'everyone'. Risque didn't know which to focus upon first. Let alone the very notion that he felt like this was the spot he had chosen. Her cowboy offered a single shrug after his spoken words, the thought of him ripping the throats out of those nameless teenagers was certainly was a visual that lingered. The imagery was far more romantic than this very place. "How did you hear about a place that everyone makes out in? Darcy, you don't come here to watch, do you? Do you possess a little voyeurism that you have yet to tell me about?" She rose a sharp brow skyward as if she had caught him redhanded with his hand deep in the cookie jar.

She peered out at this so-called view once more, no longer looking to her baffling lover. The city's glowing lights were evidently different from the darkness of the forest that surrounded them. It certainly was a view. She could even make out the western district, her domain and kingdom, even though she was unable to see Syn from here, she could see the industrial harbour. There was a reason why this was... a hotspot where people flocked to for their selfies and their.... Hookups. That was what they called it now. Hooking up. It sounded far too similar to hookers to her liking.

Yet, she had seen far more striking views in her centuries of 'life'. Saw the kind of views that inspired artists of all kinds. The kind that inspired passages in novels and breathtaking paintings. She eyed it with enough judgement send any being withering in place. As though the tourist hotspot... predetermined dubbed as beautiful, made it less than. Darcy seemed oblivious of it all, like he didn't know if it were beautiful or not. A bored sigh left her lips before she settled upon her lover. He wasn't even looking at the view he procured for her, no, he was staring directly at her. She tipped her head to notice his eyes had softened as he undoubtedly watched her like those smitten boys who managed to charm their chosen, most likely, inexperienced dates. The man she had once seen genocide mirrored within his unique stare now looked lovesick. Not even an ounce of steel lingered within her cowboy. His words equally sweetly uttered as if attempted to romance her. Oh, Darcy. While so pretty.. He was hopeless, in this... whatever this was. Was that supposed to be a come-on? It was enough to cause her head shake, not unable to hide her disbelief, nor the second sigh that escaped her reddish hued lips. It was almost like he had stolen those words from his teenage meals.

"I have no interest in the view." All those truly breathtaking views had long since died, as man built their skyscrapers and their lights swallowed the stars in their hazy pollution. While she flourished in the city. Made it her own. Commanded it like she ran Syn and everything else in her life.

"Ah, perhaps you should use your mouth for something else, non?" She added almost nonchalantly, that hint of suggestion laced within her words. How she hoped her performed better than his come on.

This... right here, was Darcy's request? The fantasy he harboured for how long? She did not dwell upon it.

"You have five requests that do not carry on beyond tonight... and two things that must happen." Ground rules, apparently were not above tonight. Quite honestly, she had no idea how her cowboy would be when given such loose rein. Control was not something she offered when it came to sex and yet she had never taken a mate before. She was nothing but direct.

"One... You must turn me on." She stated simply, looking to her nails as if talking about the weather. Her palm fell to her thigh before she shifted within that seat, undoing that dreaded seatbelt.

"Two.. I must be sated." Her gaze then drug to the birthday boy, eyeing the way the light his carved out cheekbones, the harsh shadows playing on his handsome face.

Sex in a truck.... Offering Darcy control.."This is truly a night of firsts." Many firsts in fact, and she was sure that list was somehow going to grow by the end of it.

you better run

the full moon's rising.