The Fortune of War is perhaps the closest thing to a gathering place for supernatural creatures in all of New York. An old style English pub, the small tavern is located in the Bronx, a place not exactly known for seedy taverns. But some way or another, it always seems to make enough money to linger on. I push my way in through the front door, a small set of chimes ringing above head allowing the barkeep to know of his new customer. An obese man by the name of Charlie, I’ve never been able to quite place where he fits into this world.
He knows damn well I’m a Vampire, but doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s offered me on three separate occasions hints and tips that have saved me a good deal of time as well as money, all thing considered. I know he deals heavily with the occult, not as heavily as the man I’d originally meant to visit tonight, but enough to know a thing or two about the dealings going on throughout the city.
