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    The West

    The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a certain grunge 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, instead letting the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.

    What's You'll Find Here

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    Noah's Ark

    owned by Aiden Tetradore
    1 employees

    Noah's Ark

    Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark appears to be little more than an abandoned cargo ship. 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.

    Owner Aiden Tetradore

    Co-owner Tobias Cain

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    Warehouse District

    Warehouse District

    The warehouse district rests just upon the harbor within the city. Many of the warehouses belong to corporate companies although some are used for less the legal means. Be careful when wandering this district at night for many groups meet within those dark, dilapidated buildings. There are also whispers of hard to obtain goods being sold behind those closed doors but you have to know who's who to get an in!

Maybe this is madness underneath my skin199.181.23.0Posted On July 19, 2016 at 1:43 PM by Spencer Lombardo

You call and I respond, the sparrow and the song
I miss you when you're gone

While her reservations regarding the firearms and their traceability would be correct, she apparently was lacking on certain information regarding the specialty of this store. Not that Spencer would be surprised at this lack of knowledge; it was probably the closest guarded secret of Arsenaal. Of course, Dorian wouldn’t care for the world to know about his side business. Still, if she ever wanted to upgrade, this was her shop. They had their own metal bending warlock after all (no, it wasn’t the one behind the counter). Well, possibly. Spencer would have to see how “straight” and “narrow” Dorian had really decided to go with this whole crazy political idea of his.

Spencer’s brow knitted together slightly in displeasure as he watched her fingers dance across the counter toward him, half tempted to knock her hand away when it curled around the bottom of his tie. The temptation only grew as she ran her hand up further, creeping ever closer to his neck, eyes narrowing slightly in distrust as he began to prepare himself for the worst. This might the first (and only) time he found himself wishing his reptilian “friend” was nearby. Though, truthfully with his luck, the bitch would let this stranger have her fun then probably join in to have her way. Damn, why did he think about her? He could already feel the headache forming.

When she dropped his name so casually, Spencer leaned back slightly in surprise and some alarm. How did she know who he was? It wasn’t like he was wearing a name tag or advertised who he was to run the store. He hadn’t introduced himself and he sure as hell didn’t let his clients use his name when they were handling business. No, he was very much the type of person to want minimal contact and minimal information exchanged. They were there to do business, not chat about the weather. Besides, the less that was exchanged, the more difficult it was to track or prove that it led back to him. Spencer was gripping the edge of the counter, eyes following and studying this stranger closely as she flaunted about his store, trying to figure out if he had done business with her in the past. No, he hadn’t worked with her, not even when he owned the shop in the other town, before he had been made a fugitive (or sent on the lam; however you wish to describe it). He was about ninety-nine percent sure they hadn’t; her shock white hair would be hard to forget.

You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Miss…?” He finally responded, trailing off though he didn’t really expect her to share her name. Obviously she was enjoying her little game, even if he wasn’t a fan of it. When she went off, lecturing him about how business was going to be conducted, Spencer didn’t bother trying to hide the unamused expression on his face. As she finished up her little lecture, he glanced around the store to ensure no one else was present before focusing back on this strange woman.

While he typically prided himself on being patient, Spencer was quickly learning that he was not as patient as he once thought himself. This was especially true when she stole the newspaper he had been reading, his eyes closing as he breathed in deeply to recompose himself. His fingers drummed lightly over the counter for another second, eyes closed, before he turned to face her at the end of the counter, remaining where he was. She about three arm lengths away from him, his paper scattered across his counter, Spencer studying her closely yet again.

Then, very calmly, he repeated himself, “You seem to be convinced this is anything but a gun store, Miss. All the merchandise for sale, it’s around you. Look around, if you don’t find something you like, we can offer special orders.” As he offered the special orders, he bent down slightly to pull a pad of papers from underneath the counter to set in front of him. He didn’t believe she would actually need them; she wasn’t here for the guns. She was here for him, for what he could privately offer, but unfortunately for her, he wasn’t sure he wanted to open his shop doors to her. In fact, he was leaning toward “No.” She wanted to believe he would break easily; well, she might have to find out.

single | warlock | notes: xxx


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