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.
Bartender Raylin Chike
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
I don't think I'll make it out alive
While Spencer knew he had managed to keep his expression under control, the way her grin increased only warned him that it apparently had not been enough. Perhaps she was one of the types that fed off others' annoyance - wait, no, of course she was. From their first meeting she had thrived on it and it was no different now. No, she was clearly thrilled with this development even though they had yet to really mutter anything to one another. Needless to say, the urge to roll his eyes was a powerful one and he nearly succumbed to it. That or to pinch the bridge of his nose knowing he was not going to escape this meeting without some kind of headache. This is what he gets for thinking himself clear. This clearly was only going to get worse as her grin grew even broader when he used her name. She must think herself so clever for keeping her first name to herself, leaving him with only a last. He would say he didn't care, however sometimes it was more dangerous not knowing a name than it was to know it.
"Shocking though it may be, you're not the only one lining my pockets." Spencer quipped back, shifting his weight forward on his hands a bit, though he gave her a pointed look. "That would just be bad business." Well, she got him there. He wasn't usually the type to "beat around the bush" but it didn't seem to slow her down any. In fact, if he could recall (it had been a while so memory may be fuzzy) her method of introduction had been to play with his newspaper to draw his attention to certain articles then threaten to burn his shop down. Hm, apparently he had made quite the impression. It was starting to come back to him more and more. He listened to her comment about the walk, making note of the little information she had given him. So, she lived nearby. That was interesting. Still left the question of what qualified as nearby but any information wouldn't be a bad thing. He made a noncommittal sound in response, his eyes tracking hers as her attention drifted to the knives on display. Spencer pushed off the counter, moving over so that he was closer to the ones out, not quite trusting her intentions. You couldn't blame the guy for being cautious; she had made it known what she was on their first meeting. While he wasn't adept at the use of knives, he was not ignorant to their inherent deadliness, particularly when wielded by someone skilled. Judging by the look in her eyes (and that she never seemed to spare a look to the guns on display), she fit that category.
"I am." He agreed, watching as she returned her full attention to him. He was curious as to her abrupt return. Aside from that one transaction, he hadn't seen or heard of her since. Not that he actually had made any attempts to seek her out; it wasn't like that was their relationship. So for her to magically appear in front him, yes, she had some of his curiosity. The annoyance was free of charge. His eyebrow lifted at her comment about paying double (to a price he had yet to list for a product not yet mentioned), his full attention on her. However, he would be lying if he didn't say the temptation to kick her out of his store when she made the comment about leaving him stranded (he hadn't forgotten or forgiven that). Instead he settled for rolling his eyes, a small frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. "How thoughtful." He deadpanned before giving a small (slightly dismissive) wave of his hand to indicate for her to continue to the actual important part. What she needed.
First part? What the hell did that mean? No wait - he didn't want to know. Or did he? Did that mysterious second part involve him? Maybe she needed something different from him for this second part. Dismissing that for the moment, he turned his focus to the facts he knew. Spencer leaned his hip against the counter, brow furrowing together as he mulled over her request, arms folding across his chest. His eyes were focused now on the floor, slightly unfocused as he mulled over the options. Activates hitting alcohol... feigns a heart attack... untraceable and requires only little...
"When do you need it by?" He asked, looking toward her. "I have some options available: they're not really 'drops' but small vials though. You would have to dump the entirety of the contents in the drink. They meet the other requirements - aside from the droplets - if you need it now. Drops would require a few days - two, maybe three - to craft; they're not often in high demand and they don't keep well sitting on a shelf." He felt like it went without saying that if he was personally crafting something for her, it was going to come with an increased price tag (on top of what she already agreed). That and he always charged more when he had to use his magic, which he would for that specialty.
"Did you need anything for the other part? I notice you mentioned 'first'."