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

over the hills and far away

Posted on May 31, 2022 by Quinton


There was a distinct wisdom within the words of the vampiric woman. A wisdom that, perhaps, betrayed the age her eternally youthful features, much like his own, concealed with such ease. She had not chosen her mate for wealth or power or age. Rather- she had chosen him because, despite it all, he was compatible with her. His demons danced with her own rather than rallied agianst them. Within the torrents and trials of a vampiric existence- a veritable immortality of turmoil- could there be anything more satisfying then that simplistic connection? In the end it meant more than power of age ever would.The woman beside him so clearly having reached that very understanding- for she had lived long enough to perceive it. Hmm. How satisfying her company and conversation was. It had been far too long since he had engaged another whose age was significant enough to draw from him more than a cursory glance or passing word. The fellinesque woman's own words were rewarded with a nod of Quinton's head. His understanding was entire- even if a part of the vampire found a thread of amusement in how his companions' features seemed to contort ever so slightly at the mention of marriage. Ah, but she was a woman of her time. One for whom independence was more than merely her banner to carry, but rather, it clung to her very soul. It was who she was. The notion of marriage was a stark contrast to her own identity and yet too- how certain Quinn reamined that such ideals were not out of reach. Their kind, after all, were masters of adaptation.

It was only fair, perhaps, that his companion might seek to question him in turn. His own perceived domestic bliss had, at times, fallen beneath the scrutiny of far more than one individual. It was a seemingly endless source of fascination to many that a being so aged as himself might willingly choose not only to marry- but to remain married for century upon century to the same woman. His darling Leila was, perhaps, one of the few beings upon this earth whom he did not eventually tire of. Quinn's words were nothing short of quiet once more. His voice was a soft utterance and yet clearly heard even amongst the sound and music of the club. His words held little save for simple honesty. After all, his marriage was no great secret, nor did he shy away from sharing that life he had chosen for himself even if he remained assured Leila had lured him into domestic bliss and tamed him far before he might have otherwise been ready. The very memory of their...unique courtship prompted a soft chuckle to the vampires lips as the femanine siren beside him so swiftly deduced what had not been said within his uttered words. Quinn's head nodded softly once more in affirmation.

"Yes, my wife is Fae."

His companion's features seemed to shift once more with that information. A look of careful consideration adorned her femanine facade before she mused over the breakability of Fae and the evident fascination she found in the notion of their union. Her observations, after all, were hardly incorrect. That very notion that Leila was surely 'more' so readily prompted a soft simper to Quinton's lips once more, his golden gaze so easily meeting the blue of her own.

"It is as you said with your own words. Age, power, even species means little when one is simply....compatible. Our marriage has not been without its challenges but we have shared goals and desires. Such things outweigh a mere delicacy of species. I will say though, I am required to be....gentle. Such a thing tookample practice."

It was difficult after all, to limit his own strength- at least, it had been, once. Such a thing was very near second nature to him now. Yet too, how readily the vampiric man was certain he could understand the allure of a vampiric partner in turn. A partner capable of matching himin the physical sense at least. There was surely a great satisfaction in that in turn. Quinn was nothing short of oblivious, in that moment, to the delicate array of thoughts that turned within his companions mind. The man was far more focused, instead, on making his own intentions clear. He sought none of her territory- nor to bring any discord upon it. How he tired of the vampiric manner of....dancing around such things. That game of politics too and fro was, at times, something of an enjoyment to dabble within and yet tonight the Belgian cared little for such trivialities. Not when an opportunity to converse with an agreeable being had presented itself. Quinn wholly determined to prevent those vampiric tendencies they both possessed from...disrupting what might yet prove a fruitful and insightful conversation. His own assurance of contentment, in turn, seemed to further settle that hint of tension that had lingered within his host. Both vampires so readily seemed to....settle within one another's company. That conversation shifted back to the ever curious 'Darcy'. The Ravager with the mismatched eyes whom his companion had taken for a mate. How rare it was that anything upon this earth was given to surprise the decidedly aged vampire and yet- Quinn could not recall ever seeing a Ravager so....domesticated. Let alone calm. Darcy was unique in far more ways than one- and how certain Quinton was that the vampire Queen of Syn was aware of it- even as she very nearly downplayed her own efforts in taming such a rare species.

It took but a singular glance from the woman to send her mate upstairs. Quinn, for his part, was almost satisfied to see the Ravager go- if only for the fashion in which his mismatched gaze had fixated almost intensely upon him. Such an act, however, left little question of just who remained dominant within that relationship. Mated or not. It was with that very absence of Darcy however that Quinton saw to extending those very introductions, offering his own name and that assurance his own lands remained within his home country. Those very words, in turn, prompted the woman to announce her intrigue in such a thing before offering her own name,or at least, the moniker she had taken up as so many vampires tended to do. Casting aside those human names in favor of the creatures they had become. Risque. How well it suited her. It was that very offer of a drink however that prompted the Belgian to query instead whether they might take tea, over alcohol, that very request seemed to prompt only a fleeting curiosity within his newfound host before Risque insisted she would partake of tea too. A black tea, imported from France no less. How satisfying. Risque was quick to turn her attention to the bar, those who worked behind it equally quick to offer her their attention. Hmm. How intriguing. Those within this territory knew their place- without question. Risque, it seemed, was not a woman inclined to be lax upon her expectation. Indeed, she was near reminiscent of the vampires of old and yet-how little such a thing surprised him. Quinn, in turn, hardly found any objection to firm expectation of those around her.

That command for tea and pastries was quickly given. An almost nervous succubus hurried to carry out those orders as Quinn mused aloud upon the state of their own vampiric race. One that,he was certain, had suffered of late if only due to the utter lack of humans worth bringing into their ranks. A sentiment, it seemed, RIsque was inclined to agree upon. The vampiric woman insisted the human condition had severely worsened. Quinn's head nodded once more, his golden gaze lightly and yet acutely sweeping that room around them as if searching for even one worthy human amongst those gathered tonight.

"I blame modernity. All resilience has been bred from the human race. They are given instant gratification. They desire to work for nothing and as such their entire resolve weakens. They have grown fickle,vapid, weak and utterly lacking in attention. A parrot trained to repeat words would provide more stimulating conversation. It would be a waste of immortality to turn most of them."

His features frowned ever so slightly at the sight of one verydrunk young woman allbut falling over her girlfriends before they burst into hysterical laughter as if a lack of coordination was the height of comedy. Risque's query upon his own progeny so readily prompted his golden gaze to return to her own.

"Morgan is my progeny, yes. My wife and I acquired her as a mortal infant. We raised her until we believed she was of an age and level of maturity befitting immortality and I turned her myself. She has seen three and a half centuries. Her success though, I believe, is because she was raised in our image. Raised as we desired she be raised,untainted by that which we did not desire in immortal progeny. It was not without its challenges of course,but acquiring her in infancy has assured she was accustomed to our lifestyle from the very beginning."

Quinn's head nodded, the Belgian seeing little need not to share such ideology with Risque. After all, he held little doubt Morgan might yet have proven entirely disappointing had they arrived within her life when she was already a teenager- her life tainted by the human condition. So many bad habits to unlearn. Raising her from infancy has surely been the most...successful path and yet- the vampire allowed his features to frown once more.

"My wife also desired a child, as many women do. A baby was the one thing I could not give her naturally. So we found other means to acquire one. What of your progeny? Have any proven satisfactory?"

Darcy was most surely not Risques own creation. A Sanguine vampire did not give rise to a Ravager, at least, not that Quinn was aware. Perhaps Risque had never found any worthy or turning? Quinn, in that moment, decidedly curious of his companions' experience in this before he sought to confirm the notions of his own origins and the place of his birth upon the border of France and Belgium. It was perhaps hardly surprising that Risque herself admitted to having spent most of her life in France. Her words still held that accent.Her own French spoke with the poetic flawlessness that only native speakers could truly employ.
Her suggestion that English was far more crude then French, however, prompted a soft chuckle from the Belgian.

"I am inclined to agree. Few languages possess the eloquence of French."

Anyfurther conversation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of another vampire. The decidedly flamboyant man was quick to hurry towards them,placing down that teapot and matching tea cups before adding a plate of pastries. The very scent of that sugar, combined with the aroma of the tea was decidedly...inviting. The vampiric server's very utterance of 'yummy' so quickly prompted Quinn's golden gaze upward- only to meet the equally intense gaze of the server. Had he....been referring to him? A look of momentary bafflement readily seemed to adorn Wuinn's features. The normally unflappable man so momentarily caught off guard. Leon's uttered words to the succubus woman as he retreated were not nearly quiet enough to prevent the Belgian hearing them in turn. 'Daddy?' Was that code for something? He would ask Morgan about this when he returned home. Quinn, for several moments, was merely inclined to watch Leon go as Risque offered an introduction of sorts. Leon, she insisted, had always been colorful with his language. The man apparently useful to her.

"Do you not find him a little....flamboyant?"

Thatman was flamboyant by human standards, let alone vampiric, Quinn content to find himself almost baffled by him as Risque insisted he help himself. Risque's assurance that she favored those eclairs prompted the man to reach for one in turn, that delightful pastry lifted to his lips with a clear satisfaction. That dessert was nothing short of satisfying in every way, a soft sound of approval uttered from within his throat before he reached for his tea. Those equally delectable notes sipped softly upon as Risque sought to answer his earlier query.The rest of that bar ceased to exist in that moment for all the attention the vampiric pair offered anone around them. Quinn moved to sip softly upon that tea again as Risque spoke of her lover,of ehr belief that it was merely her training that had crafted him- at least at first. It was not difficult to deduce,in anysense, that the woman beside him was nothing short of 'firm' on her training. Quinn was certain he knew exactly what positive and negative reinforcements consisted of and yet.....how hardly he disagreed. It was the vampiric way,after all. Risque held every right to discipline her property as she desired. Darcy, just like her feline pets, was her property. Yet- how readily she had deduced that it was hardly through fear or training or pain that she had been able to 'tame' her lover but....something else. Darcy, from the very beginning possessed a loyalty that had seemingly developed upon its own. A devotion even.

"How fascinating."

And how readily he meant it. How curious that, despite it all, Darcy had seemingly developed love for Risque. Despite what she had put him through. What possessed him to become so devoed? Was it an oddity of his species? Had Risque somehow replaced his Maker? Was it love or was it obsession? Ravagers,after all,were obsessive by nature and yet....obsession would not give way to the control Darcy possessed. Would love? How much there was to consider. Risque was quick on turn to insist that appearances were...deceiving. That Darcy's appearance of placidity was merely that, an appearance. Ah, how well Quinton understood that notion. After all, was he not better known as the Butcher of Belgium? Yet who here would ever think of the calm, polite, mild-mannered vampire as such a thing so....beastly as that. Perhaps that was his greatest ruse, within the end. He was not as he appeared. Darcy, Risque's feline pet, even Risque herself,he suspected, were far more than they would appear at first glance.

"Do you believe in soulmates, Mademoiselle Risque?"

That question was softly uttered, that query sudden perhaps and yet Quinn's gaze met her own evenly, curiously, the Belgian distinctly intrigued to hear her answer before she sought to ask her own question. Risque paused momentarily to pour her own tea, adding a singular sugar cube. Both vampires, it seemed, inclined to take their tea black. Quinn''s lacking any sugar at all. Risque's voice rose smoothly between the rhythm of music and song, the vampiric woman near bold in her question and yet distinctly....intelligent in turn. She had thought much upon this, that was clear. Her mind was inquiring and sharp as a knife's edge. How refreshing such conversation was.

"You would ask me of sex upon our first meeting? Youare indeed French."

Those words were little more than a gentle tease offered in simple good nature. The French, after all,had a reputation as lovers the world over while being equally well known for discussing such things boldly. Refreshing, perhaps,when compared to the ever prudish British.

"I think though my answer is simple. I married because I did not desire to be alone. It is a basic desire, even trivial perhaps and yet it is more than simply human. There does not exist a species within this world, human or animal, that spends its entire life alone. Whether through marriage, mating for life, coming together to simply breed or anything in between. As you said, time means nothing to an immortal, but by that notion if that immortal is alone and has no one to share even the most mundane of moments with- then what does any of it matter? Life, in the end, is nothing but memories-and I would like to exist in more than just my own memory. I love my wife- I chose her to share my life with and I do not regret it."

A warm simper found the vampires lips once more.

"The sex is not like it is with another vampire, no- it is not as....vigorious. But I have found it to be just as satisfying. The blood is an added bonus."