Realms' End

Stir the Pot



A Conversation With the Boss
In Which The Players Had No Idea What They Were Doing

Alright, so, I already filled you in on everything up through the Red Court vampire twin slut mistress whatevers trying to strong arm the Warden and his Samurai Sensei-san Stereotype out of your drugs, so I’m just gonna pick up after that.

We repackaged everything except for some unidentifiable silver substance into the steamer trunk, and I stored it with one of my guys up in Harlem. Liam has the last ingredient—it was the only item not readily identifiable, and we all figured if the Red Court wants whatever’s in that box, splitting up the contents might slow ’em down enough to get ’em annoyed. I know you like it when they get their panties in a twist.

Unfortunately, on our way to the storage site, Victoria (the cat burglar I was telling you about) gets a call from some Medium-wannabe NYPD officer saying “there’s been another robbery, and another murder.” This time the mark was some bougie private collector on the Upper East Side; the cachet a wooden fan. It joins the emeralds, statue of Anubis, and statue of Chiron as items that have all been stolen, often accompanied by bloody murders, on Liam’s watch.

Someone’s putting together a ritual—all of the items except for the rocks facially involve themselves with death (the fan turns out to have been owned by some kind of serial killer Samurai. Pretty sure when we found that out you could see Kaze’s boner from space). And the four items thus far stolen also correspond to the classical magical elements (Anubis for spirit, Chiron for water, emeralds for earth, fan for air). A night’s rest and some serious cajoling got the cop to do his psychometry thing to revisit the collector’s death, and we got a lead on what the last item (presumably related to fire) would be: something connected to Kali, the Indian goddess entirely forgotten except by Indiana Jones fans.

Oh, here’s a juicy tidbit for you. The White Council? Zero teeth. Seriously, outside of a couple requests for outside research, these guys can offer literally nothing. No backup support. No ritualists. No firepower. We took the fucking subway because they can’t afford the fucking forty dollar Uber ride. Are we honestly supposed to be scared of these people? I get that the high probability says we play deferential to keep them from messing with your business more than absolutely necessary, but it’s beyond me how their reputation alone keeps the little guys in line. I’m honestly pretty sure Liam is the only sword they have in the city.

That deficit becomes relevant pretty quickly. See, a contact of the Warden’s (some kind of were-archaeologist. Because this city didn’t have enough weirdos already) comes up with a special exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum showing a bunch of ancient Indian artifacts—an ode to Kali, Goddess of Destruction. We go, we look around, Liam does his Third Eye mumbo jumbo, and it becomes pretty clear pretty fast that the next item on these thieves’ lift list is most likely gonna be this twelve-square-foot hunk of wood depicting Kali in the act of, well…destruction. Ruby (fey lesbian park ranger, if anyone else is counting adjectives) distracts the security guard, Liam defaces the ancient, priceless work of art to gain a sliver of wood (thus enabling magical tracking, and setting up an erection joke), and we clear out.

The last couple of times Liam tried to face these guys mano a mano, he got his ass handed to him. Because he is incompetent. And this might be the last shot any of us have at stopping them from doing…whatever it is they’re planning on doing. Because of Liam’s incompetence. So I sort of thought it was appropriate to mention the helicopter kill squad that saved them a few nights ago came from you. And that you might be persuaded to help us with this…tight spot.

Look, you don’t pay me to do big-picture stuff. I totally respect that. But Rusty, odds say this entire thing goes tits-up without your firepower. And I don’t know what sorta fucked-up ritual these guys are trying to pull, but it’s flavored with Death, has the Winter Court running scared, and the Red Court running in. I know there’s no such thing as a free lunch, and you know that when payment time rolls around, you’ll get your due.

But right this second, I hope those guns you promised are gonna do their job. Fuck knows Liam Fitz-puss-trick ain’t any good at his.

Seriously, what do you see in that guy?

Alright, alright, I’m done. Please don’t hurt me.

Bloody Valentine


A Troll's Bargain

The group surrounding Liam Fitzpatrick, Warden of NYC, is a…curious collection of individuals. Joining them in the aftermath of their battle with ghouls and an unknown wizard, I saw the familiar faces of Ruby and Zahir—both former allies of mine from previous assignments. I’m always intrigued at the crossing and recrossing of lives. And in the supernatural realm these crossing are never dull.

True to form, within moments of me introducing myself to the group, Ruby was tearing open a jagged hole to the Nevernever (poor Fitzpatrick-san suffering from a head injury) and we were enveloped in cold winds and dense snow. The keen senses of Zahir lead us in the footsteps of our quarry, the mystery mage, who had taken the nature spirit that is desired by so many (including my own master).

The blizzard conditions made our trek hard and eventually Fitzpatrick-san took flight to scout ahead (this wizard wields the power of wind to some degree…I take that as a goodsign). He encountered a great troll who is a mighty noble of the Fey Winter Court who strongly warned us to abandon our quest and turn back. Naturally the urges of my master
within me roared with frustration, but I believe this is only a sidestep to my ultimate mission.

The troll noble told us the mage we seek is much more powerful than we and he wants the nature spirit to use in a great act of magic. Of course this information came at a cost and Fitzpatrick-san agreed to do a favor for the troll.

Back in the natural world, we proceeded to a nightclub owned by a contact of the troll noble’s…a vampire who apparently desires Fitzpatrick-san. The task involves us moving some sort of illicit substance for the fey creatures in 2 days time.

Later, we met with the police chief to give an update (apparently a common part of the Warden’s duties) where Ruby acted most disrespectfully to the chief (I was shocked she could get away with such shenanigans!).

Our briefing complete, our group dispersed to attend to personal matters and prepare for our “favor” to the fey. Fitzpatrick-san said he would make some escape potions and I went to commune with my master. Sitting in meditation, the roaring wind filling every sense, I heard one command over and over: Complete the task at all costs.

Step Backwards

Look, Rusty, you know how I feel about putting shit in writing. First you shackle me to Warden McDoucherton, now you ask me to make a paper trail? Stop breaking my balls.

Anyway. After you, uh, “performed” for Liam Fitzpatrick and Victoria Seersucker at XLR8, you met with them at their private table (which, I should prolly point out, you told Liam was his whenever he wanted four times during the conversation. Little desperate, boss) to talk over the sale of the nature spirit everyone’s so wet over in this goddamn part of town.

The two managed to go from “You’re the lowest bidder and we’re selling it to you” to “Yeah, this thing is a fake and we want to know who’s buying it” in like ten seconds, mostly because Mr. Compensates-for-his-Micropenis-with-a-Sword couldn’t keep his mouth shut. You were particularly interested in learning the Winter Court had been chased out of town. You, what, feeling an ax over your head too or something? Not my place, I know, but that was the fact that got the ball rolling.

Obviously you don’t know who the buyer is, either (right?), so the whole pumping you for information thing didn’t go very well (notwithstanding the free table for Liam, amirite?).

You impressed on both of them your, er . . . “discomfort” with not knowing who this new power player was in the City, and suggested that the best way to proceed might be to sell the Spirit as planned and see where the trail led—since selling the fake had worked so well for the White Council (I hear the NYPD 5th Precinct is fucking trashed from the Reds’, er, “exuberance”). And then you so kindly offered my services as courier. Which, by the way, I’m still fucking bitter about. I’m a con artist, not a fucking mail boy.

So I set up the exchange at an abandoned warehouse on 11th and 23rd. I walk over, Liam and Victoria take a car. I go in, meet this nameless bitch in black, she tells me her “associates” are running a bit late.

We stand awkwardly in silence for a bit, then a Never Never portal rips itself open on the balcony of the joint. Cold. Lots of snow. Four dudes come out—three hooded Ghouls, and one magic-user complete with staff and serious attitude problem.

This part of the story is important—the dude with the staff managed to telekinetically grab the Nature Spirit out of my fucking hands (and our dear Rookie Warden conveniently forgot to put a tracking spell on the damn thing) and then set three Ghouls on us without provocation or warning. I want to repeat that—we didn’t get the money we were promised. He just tried to kill us all instead. And he brought monsters with him—these Ghouls way outclassed us, it was super transparent. So I did what any reasonable person would do, and fucking ran. Victoria and Liam, to their credit, tried to do the whole “Last Stand” thing, but were by all reports getting their asses handed to them.

That’s when a helicopter full of armed dudes blew a hole in the ceiling of the warehouse, dropped a squad, and killed literally everything that moved.

Other than Victoria. And Liam.

Oh yeah, and the boss guy. He got away. Portal—nothing we could do.

DeBlasio’s New York, man. Fucking nightmare.


Taking Chances
In which our heroes learn some inportant information before getting arrested and locked up.

Lillianna, Summer Lady of the Summer Court, provided some much needed information (freely, no less) when they group went to see her about the nature spirit that was discovered at Flights of Fantasy. She told them that the Winter Court was attacked by some unknown supernatural player and a powerful magical artifact was taken from them. No one knows what was taken and they won’t say either. Whoever has it, however, does not seem to be able to use it. The objects that were recently stolen from local museums are somehow involved, but their exact purpose is still unclear.

The group decided to try and use the nature spirit as bait by putting it up for sale on the magical black market. Victoria Seersucker got in touch with a fence she knows and within an hour, three offers had been received. One from the White Court Vampires ($1 million), one from the Red Court Vampires ($1.2 million) and one from an anonymous source ($1.25 million). Accepting the highest offer led to a drop at Columbus Circle with a pure mortal. Through magical means he was tailed downtown where he ended up stopping right in from of the NYPD 5th Precinct. The car everyone else was in was immediately surrounded by a SWAT team and everyone was arrested. Setter Griswold traveled separately from everyone else and remained free.

While the group was being held in a cell underground, a group of Red Court Vampires made a daring assault on the police station. Ray Kelly’s special unit appeared to be adequately prepared to deal with such a threat. A deal was brokered between Kelly and Liam and everyone was released.

Night Work

White Council Incident Report

Warden: Liam Fitzpatrick
Nature of Incident: Stolen gems; framing of Warden
Victims (H: Human; N: Non-Human) Myself (H/Wizard); Museum of Natural History
Suspects (include identifiers such as warlock, fey, White Court, etc.): Five unseen humanoid figures; Winter Court; Zeke (substance abuse)
Other Involved Parties: The bum (human?); Zahir (Were-Sabretooth); Zeke (H/Wizardish); Martin (H/Psychometry)
Items Taken: Eight gemstones (1 recovered)

Details of Event: Got call @ 3am from Martin saying my prints were on scene @ MoNH. Called in Zeke (still drunk—drugs??) and the wereguy Zahir. Outside museum a bum gave us an emerald he found on street—appears to be one of missing gems.

Action Taken: Snuck inside using veil spell & opened Third Eye. Five figures stole the gems & planted my prints, then escaped into Nevernever via portal. Once outside, Zeke opened Third Eye (also bloodshot/dilated) & spotted figure dropping something—probably the emerald. Definite aura of evil around emerald. Next step: fey contacts? Stinks of Winter Court…

DM Note: The ‘bum’ referred to is Setter.


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