As Jamie walked down the tunnel that lead to the heart of the White Council seat he once again considered all of the warding runes that had been constructed to protect this place. He could easily stop and spend days lost studying these terrible weapons that could be turned against anyone crazy enough try a direct assault on the Council.
As he approached the check point where the Wardens would challenge any who came this way he spotted two figures, one he knew and the other only be reputation. Chandler was in his usual smart English style suit with bowler hat, but he lacked the usual smug look on his face. The other wizard standing there was nearly seven feet tall and dressed in a dark cloak.
“Wizard Harper, this is the Gatekeeper. If you would follow him please.”
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This was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but we ran out of time last episode, so here is the conclusion! The only mistake the PC’s made was allowing me time to genuinely prep…
So the giant blood spirit hunter decides to take the form of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Then things really get interesting.
Conor plays Rodeo Clown (finding his fists ineffective) by jumping up on the beasts back and trying to get in the way of it being able to attack his mates (mostly by pulling on eyelids)…
…
Ren adds magical ice to make the battlefield a winter wonderland (or maybe a Slip and Slide playset?)
…
Erica pulls out a whole bag of “Ssssh!” with the creature’s name on it (which prevents some kind of scary roar that it was probably trying to do… which becomes really comical when nobody can hear it).
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As the Texas sun sets slowly in the West, a chance set of circumstances find our heroes enjoying an impromtu “team meal” at Mama’s Daughter’s Diner on Irving Boulevard.
Jamie consults with the
Stacy the waitress, a neonate
Freakshow Member, on possible magic alarms for the diner versus Dallas’s “Spooky side”.
Elena had recieved a vision from her patron which then led her to the Diner.
Conor and
Erica were playing a gig there (what else would we do on a Friday night?). A little early for a meeting with his Venatori contacts,
Matthew arrives at the same time as
Ren does on a food run from
Uncle. Then things get weird.
First, the auditor that reeks of
“White Court” arrives to strike some literal fear into the owner of the joint…
Second, A big big man, later ID’d as an Ogre, enjoys a chicken fried steak…
Third, Stacy in her conversation with Jamie identifies
Rafa as having come in the previous week, had a brief and nervous meeting with a stranger, then left without his food…
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“…and so, basically, I’m dead.”
The tech booth in Midori’s personal recording studio was a chill 60 degrees, a noticable contrast to the pleasant 70-75 degrees of the rest of the
Meido Kafe downstairs.
Midori had been up here putting in a lot of extra hours on her latest album in the last few weeks, once I had finally coaxed her from her bedroom at home. ‘Therapy’, she calls it. The title was appropriate on a number of levels, not the least of which was the politely sexual connotations, and Midori had latched onto the project like a life preserver, even going so far as to bribe me with fancy coffee and french pastries so that I might teach her the ‘Way of the Sound Engineer’ so that she could edit the tracks herself. I had called it that during our first lesson, and Midori had been so tickled by it she had made ‘The Way of Sound’, a traditional mellow Japanese Guitar piece, a bonus song on the end of CD and would occasionally do Mr. Miogi impressions over the console. Midori currently sat in the audio engineer chair, spinning on it like a slow top, the clacks of her oxfords making an interesting accompaniment to the High C of the inadequately greased chair pneumatics. I on the otherhand sat crosslegged and barefoot on the downey plush trap of eternal softness that was the audio booth’s main couch, and was desperately trying to resist it’s nappy-time will upon me as I recounted my lastest adventure to my friend. Fancy coffee helps with that, by the way.
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I sat quietly and sipped at my coffee as Detective Antoine Washington absorbed everything that I’d told him over the last few hours. Midnight had slipped into early morning at the Denny’s in Mesquite, and I was nursing a bit of a headache from the veil that I’d thrown up hours before to give us some conversational privacy.
The hood was ripped off my head unceremoniously, and I fought through the grogginess to keep my eyes closed before the expected bright light seared into my eyelids. I tried to get my hands up to block the light, but they were cuffed to the arms of what I was slowly realizing was a painfully industrial metal chair.
Entry #1) Monday, 7-2
