The Starlit Cage

1. The bar is carved into an unused stretch of subway beneath the Bronx, a tunnel bricked up in the 1970s when rerouting made the line obsolete. Access is through a rusted maintenance hatch hidden behind a mural of graffiti tags, or deeper still through storm drains that reek of iron and algae. The approach itself feels like initiation — the air grows colder, carrying the scents of rust, mold, and faintly of copper.
   

   
   The Arrival
   Lighting: Stray bulbs strung along the walls give off a deep red glow, as though the whole place is submerged in blood. They flicker, unreliable, and cast long jagged shadows on tiled walls.
   Sound: The constant drip of water echoes through the tunnels, mixing with slow ballads, uproars of drinking songs, and basslines leaking from the club proper — the kind of sound that feels more like a heartbeat than music.
   Threshold: A set of warped subway doors, still mounted on their track, serve as the entrance. Above them, the faded subway sign has been painted over in crimson, scrawled with a sigil that looks like a train line map but bends impossibly.

The Bar Interior
Once inside, the subway tunnel has been reimagined into a subterranean speakeasy.
Architecture: Arched tile ceilings are blackened with soot and damp. Sections of track run through the space, polished by foot traffic, with old railcars gutted and turned into private booths.
The Bar: The counter itself is a slab of cracked marble scavenged from an abandoned bank. Behind it, shelves of mismatched glass bottles glow faintly, some filled with liquor, others with blood stored in varying consistencies and hues — from thin arterial crimson to the thick black ichor of something less than human.
Decor: Vintage subway maps, peeling advertisements, and graffiti tags line the walls, mingling with occult murals. Broken mirrors reflect fragments of faces.

Atmosphere
Patrons: A mix of vampires, thralls, and daring mortals. Some drink cocktails laced with vitae, others sip it raw from crystal goblets.
Staff: The bartenders wear repurposed MTA uniforms, the patches modified into vampiric insignia. Some are ghouls with hollow eyes; others are vampires who toy with their clientele as much as they serve them.
Entertainment: A small stage in one car has velvet curtains and an old microphone. Performances range from mournful torch songs to grotesque burlesque acts, with dancers moving like broken marionettes.

The Vibe
The whole place is steeped in tension half sanctuary, half trap. Mortals come here to play with death. Vampires come to indulge and plot. The bar itself feels alive, pulsing with the memory of all the blood spilled within its walls.

1. What happens in the Starlit Cage stays in the Starlit Cage.
2. If you bring a snack you must protect your snack, it is not on the staff to do so.
3. If you steal you will regret it. (OOC: Lex Terrae)
4. If you permanently damage a blood doll you will owe one minor boon, and you will pay the money that the bar would have made off of them for that week based on a standard rate of live drink for 3 evenings.
5. If you kill a blood doll you will owe one major boon and you will pay the bar the money that doll would have made them for two weeks based on a standard rate of live drink for 6 evenings.
6. Any act of violence against a known member of the Court or property of a known member of the Court is unwelcome and will be met with a staking or a petition to the Black Court for hunting.
7. No electronic audio recording or video recording devices are allowed within the bar. If you are caught with a device that can video or audio record the device will be taken from you and you, and if brought by someone else the individual that brought you, will be referred to the Black Court for carelessness that could lead to a breach of the masquerade.
   
   While not a rule, per se, it is well known that Wren is amenable to hiring other vampires or their ghouls if they need a way to pay for their meals in the hunting grounds or at the bar.