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.
Cull & Pistol
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.
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.
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
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
you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared
Spencer was perhaps, one of the most adept people she had ever met that could keep his expression fairly neutral. She didn't know him well but she did know annoyance when she saw it. So, as the assassin waltzes into his store, that devilish smile toying at the corner of her lip, ice blue eyes locked on his figure behind the counter, she can practically feel the irritation wafting off of him, though it remained subtle. This merely causes her grin to widen, at least he remembered her, though she would have been disappointed if he didn't. Good to know she had left some sort of impression on the warlock. Reaching the counter, she leans against the glass, her white locks falling over her shoulder and pooling on the top as she leans forward and watches him beneath her long lashes. His response sends a wave of delight skittering along her spine, how she had forgotten how fun it was to toy with him. The fact that he still didn't know her first name was satisfying in its own way, something she could hold over him for a little longer.
A fake pout forms on her lips, "That's disappointing, I would have thought your pockets missed me at least a little," she says, eyes narrowing with pleasure, "Not running a little dry now, are you?" She purrs, her voice taking on a more seductive tone before Spencer glances out the large windows and asks about her fancy car. Leaning back, she laughs wickedly before her eyes roll briefly, "From what I remember, you weren't the type of person to beat around the bush but if you must know... your shop is surprisingly close to my home. Plus, I thought a bit of fresh air would do me good," she states, admitting, probably, the most personal thing she had told Spencer. Shrugging, she takes a step back, her attention briefly drawn to the variety of knives at her fingertips. Her weapon of choice, though she would never admit that to anyone. It was simply easier to hide, less bulky then a gun and much quieter. There was something almost seductive about a blade, the graceful lines of the steel and how they fit in her hand.
Though she could hardly reach the heavier knives beneath the glass, Spencer had some smaller weapons on display. Her scarred fingers dance across the counter before tracing the back of the blade, her ice blue eyes focused on the steel for a moment. They were small but no less deadlier than the heavy ones under lock and key. Eventually, she drops her hand back to the counter, Vhalla hardly here to threaten the man this time, she merely wanted a transaction something she was sure she would need to fight for, she was surprised Spencer hadn't kicked her out yet. Turning her attention back to the warlock, her gaze settling heavy on him, "Business seems slower than normal," comments rather offhandedly, glancing around the store as if to point out there were no customers but her in there today. Another sultry grin toys at her plush lips, "You're wondering why I'm here," she states finally, not a question just an observation in that moment as she returns to her former position in front of Spencer, leaning on the counter.
"Let's say I pay double this time and promise I won't leave you stranded on the opposite side of town," she pauses, watching him with amused eyes, "I need a job down that I'm certain you can fulfill with your... skills," she grins, reaching up to push her hair back from her shoulder, letting it fall back down her back. "For the first part of the job, I need something that activates when alcohol hits and feigns a heart attack, something untraceable and a little drop of it is all I need," she states, putting everything on the table... well, almost everything. She hadn't given him the second part of the job simply because she knew he would immediately refuse. Her blue eyes take on an almost serious note as she explains, the grin falling from her face for a brief moment as she watches him carefully. Before she had asked for an assortment and he had delivered, this time she was being rather specific, something she was sure Spencer would note. He was a smart man. The sultry smile returns, her head tilting slightly, "So, can you hook me up?"
To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered