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

I'm the one who makes the rules for the heroes and the fools;

Posted on December 22, 2021 by Risque

People were predictable things. Their reactions, even down to their favoured words and habits. Risque knew that one day Isolt would finally seek her out. What did she want from her maker that she could not find in her husband? Hm. Or whispers of that coven she possessed? How interesting that Isolt found herself here of all place. Wanting something from the woman she had rose a hand to? Tried to murder? Her and her foolish little group and their pitchforks that set fire to her previous establishment. No, she had not forgotten either slight. It was a wonder that she even allowed her live.

Those all too calculating cold eyes watched the crimson-haired vampire as if the look alone could pierce right through her. As if she could slice inside her skull and see everything that was inside. For those mere moments, she felt content to let that glorious tension fill and simmer within her office, as if she could feel the prickle of it upon her own porcelain skin, of her own power going hand-in-hand with anticipation.

Risque, sat like a queen within her throne, her fingers traced across the natural wooden grooves notched within the dark stained cherry wood of her desk. Desperation was an excellent motivator to do the unthinkable. After all, here Isolt stood. Yet clearly not desperate enough it would seem. Not when the feline was privy to the way that her fingers had curled into tight, clenching traitorous fists at her sides that had no effect over Risque with the exception of a mere glance. If she thought to get close enough to raise her hand against her again, she was grievously wrong. Yet upon further inspection she could see the worn lines of defeat, even upon Isolt's perfectly smooth, immortalized features. Isolt remained painfully silent while Risque spoke.

Good. It would seem that she had at least learned some manners. Most unexpectedly, all the fight her crimson progeny possessed seemed to flee like spooked doves after catching sight of a nearby predator.

Dismissively, Risque observed as the woman that had did exactly as was requested and lowered to her knees with little hesitation as if she knew she had little choice. However, it was almost bold that she dared to lock eyes with her shortly after that submissive posture. It nearly destroyed the point of the gesture that were followed up by equally disappointed word. The audacity of this.... Child. To tell her to not waste 'their' time, Isolt's time. Like Isolt's time truly mattered to the feline queen at all. Risque's lip curled only slightly, enough to flash a singular fang in warning and irritation. She had no tolerance for the drivel that left her entitled mouth.

Her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth to make a tsk sound as if chiding a toddler. "Wasting both our time? Need I remind you that you came to me? Without the request of an appointment might I add. Non. That is not how this works. You do not get to choose how I spend my time, little one. If I want to waste yours. I will." Her rich, lightly accented voice slipped free from those crimson tinted lips. Did she truly need a reminder that this was the feline-queen's kingdom that she had set foot into? That Isolt was surrounded by devils, all alone? It was Risque alone that set the rules to this encounter.

Surely, Isolt didn't need to be reminded of that simple fact. Yet... not everyone was her progeny either.

Without another word, Risque elegantly rose to her feet, as she pushed the chair away with the back of her knees in one fluid motion. The feline that had been previously taking up residence upon her lap leapt effortlessly to the floor to slide beneath Risque's desk awaiting her return. The fluid motion of Risque revealed that skintight midnight blue dress that was almost as dark as her own hair. That dress had an all too revealing slit that crawled up her left thigh, almost to her waist that were meant to draw the eye.

Risque looked every bit like she was built for sin, both a promise and a warning to those who often missed the signs.

One fluid step and then another drew her closer. Those tall impressive heels that added inches to her height clicked sharply upon the hardwood floor with every step along with the nearly inaudible gentle jingle of that gifted Cartier bracelet from her mate glinted off the encrusted diamonds as she leisurely circle the woman on her knees. She moved with the precision like a shark, as if she sought to scent out weakness. She noted the distinctly iconic crimson hair as she remembered it. Although, maybe a little lackluster from its original hue, it was difficult to say. When was the last time the girl had fed? Hm. The tip of her talon-like nails, painted to perfection lifted a few strands to inspect them, only to let them fall delicately once more as she drifted again to lean against her desk. Her floral scent of rose and jasmine had crafted a trail that all but encircled Isolt, even as Risque's bare arms reached out from either side, taking up space. Her slender fingers spread upon the edge of that desk as an idle finger tapped against the wood, the sound of it filled the room.

Perhaps they had better cut to the chase this time. "Well go on. Speak." Risque permitted, saying nothing more. What would drive her progeny to put herself at her maker's mercy? That risk, it would appear to at least earn her that chance to garner that attention she had come here for. At least for the moment.