The
Police Blotter
The
following is a list of all the pertinent information which can be culled from
the Police Blotter. As noted previously, those entries marked with an asterisk
appear only if the party succeeds in an averaged Luck Roll. This indicates that the entry was added by Sergeant
Billingsworth either because he thought it might have been relevant, because he
misread it, or because, having entered it and discovered it to be beside the
point, he didn’t want to make a mess by scratching it out.
After
this complete list are pre-prepared lists that might logically be asked for by
the Investigators. Again, any starred entries must be redacted if the people
requesting the list fail their Luck Roll.
Note also the material elsewhere about putting too much pressure on George
Billingsworth’s daily workload!
NB:
1888 was a bumper year for crime reports, with people reporting phantom
incidents, copy-cat reports and wild assertions in the wake of the Ripper
assaults. George will just shake his head and shrug if details from this year
are requested.
Some
of the entries below are followed by boxed information useful if players are
keen to follow-up on any of the incidents. Keepers are encouraged to utilise
these interviews and events as a means of adding plenty of colour and spice to
the adventure.
*****
1895
1895, August 21st:
A taxi-cab, transporting
Sir Albert Pearson and his family, is attacked on Bloomsbury Way. The horses
are spooked as something lands on the roof of the cab; the doors are ripped
open and the child within is ripped from Lady Otterline’s arms. Sir Albert
tries to stop the attack but slips and falls to the road, dying from the
impact. The assailant vanishes in the confusion and the child is not seen
again.
The information pertinent to this attack has been presented
elsewhere. If the party was not privy to this information before now, it can be
revealed to them as part of their inquiries; however they will have to deal
with the intractable Detective Carnaby first.
1895, July 24th:
The skinned leg of a man
is found in Russell Square.
An autopsy report has been filed on this incident.
1895, June 6th: Several people witness a child dragged
off by a cloaked assailant. In the pursuit, little Brian Watford is abandoned
in a dead-end alleyway and the would-be abductor escapes, although none of the pursuers
can tell exactly how. Brian says that she was taken by a man with “no eyes and
scratchy hands”.
The Watford family have moved to Essex. Like many other
victims of the Marauder’s assaults, they have been relentlessly hounded by the
Press and will strongly resist further discussion of the events.
1895, May 15th: Daisy Hartnell is assaulted on
Southampton Road. She describes the assailant as bearded and “foreign” and says
that he touched her inappropriately but did not “approach her with his
arrangement”. She mentioned that he stank abominably and was not averse to
“belting her if she moved” or tried to run.
Daisy is the latest in the long list of the Marauder’s
potential ‘mothers’. If the party doesn’t suspect that the Marauder keeps tabs
on its victims, have them make Spot
Hidden Rolls whenever Daisy’s around to suddenly sense that they’re being
watched and followed.
1894
1894, August 1st:
Betty Malmford is
attacked on the Kingsway. A passerby, Stuart Paley, intercepts the assailant
and is clubbed viciously to the ground. An operation saves his life but he is
blinded in one eye. He states that the attacker was very strong, wore a heavy
black or dark grey coat that stank and seemed to be wrapped in bandages. He
said that the attacker was armed with a club of some kind that was studded with
shells.
Stuart may have lost an eye in the attack upon Betty, but he
gained a wife as a result of his actions. They both now run a tobacconist’s
shop in Parker Street. Stuart can provide a sketch of the weapon which was used
upon him.
When the players see this sketch for the first time, have
them make an Idea Roll. If successful
they might recall that the ancient indigenous peoples of South America were
known to use weapons of a similar kind. They can then visit a library for half
a day and – with a successful Library Use
Roll – determine that the Incas, Mayans and Aztecs armed themselves with
clubs studded with sharp pieces of obsidian which, according to eyewitness
accounts in Spanish sources of the invasion by Cortes, were capable of cutting
off a horse’s head with one stroke. An image can be found in the 16th
Century Florentine Codex.
1894, July 28th:
Emily Preston, while
walking home at night, is attacked by a man in a top hat and coat. In the
struggle, she tears off his hand and the shock causes her to faint. Waking
later, she is disconcerted to find herself en
deshabille, and covered with a foul-smelling, sticky substance. She reports
herself as having been assaulted by “a leper”.
Emily works these days as a haberdasher’s assistant and will
be unwilling to discuss her assault whilst at her place of employment. If approached
there she will say that the Investigators have confused her with someone else;
she will follow them as they leave and make an alternate appointment to speak
with them later. She never became pregnant as a result of her attack.
1894, July 3rd: Brendan Partiger, cooper at a gathering
of revellers celebrating an engagement, is clubbed down and dragged off before
a crowd of over two-score people. By the time the assembled people could
respond, there is no trace of the man apart from his discarded clothing.
This attack took place in front of more than forty people
who were left unable to assist by the swiftness with which it took place. The
tale has become part of local legend with some people attributing the abduction
to “Spring-heeled Jack” and others suggesting that Brendan had made a deal with
the Devil which had fallen due.
1894, May 17th: Margaret Bentley, walking her children in
Whetstone Park, is attacked and brutally beaten by a tall man in a heavy coat. She
is beaten unconscious and the children stolen. Margaret survives the attack but
is hideously scarred; the children are not found.
Margaret has been moved to Bedlam Insane Asylum after losing
her mind along with the children. Her face is marred by criss-crossing multiple
slash marks and one of her eyes is missing. She cannot be of any use to the
Investigators, apart from strengthening their resolve to catch the fiend.
1893
*1893, August 18th:
Robert Mercyfield of The
Bell tavern reports that someone broke into their premises. Nothing was taken,
however the upsetting of a sack of oyster shells in the kitchen, destined to be
sold off, caused sufficient noise to wake the proprietor.
Mr Mercyfield reveals that he had two or three break-ins
before making his report to the Police: he was sick and tired of someone
creeping in to take the leftover oyster shells.
An Historical Note: Oysters and other types of shellfish
(including lobsters) were very much considered the food of the lower classes at
this time. Oysters were often served at pubs and taverns along with beer and
were very cheap. The empty shells were often retained by landlords to be sold
off to lime kilns in the city’s outskirts: oyster shells produce lime when
burnt.
*1893, July 17th: A heavily-pregnant woman throws herself
off a bridge and into the Thames at night during a downpour. Despite attempts
by onlookers to save her she is lost in the dark. Her body is later recovered -
sans foetus - near the Isle of Dogs.
This woman’s unpregnant body is found later washed up at the
Isle of Dogs. The incident is recorded in the local parish records and the police
report is filed in another jurisdiction. Word of the incident was passed to
other police districts in order to facilitate identifying the victim.
*1893, July 9th:
A much decomposed body
is pulled from the Thames near Wapping.
There is no report available on this event, apart from the ‘Blotter record. In fact, it has nothing
to do with the Marauder and is a red herring.
1893, June 22nd:
Nurse Georgina
Tuttworth, ending her shift at Great Ormond Street Hospital, is dragged by the
hair into a nearby alley and viciously attacked. She revives and returns to the
hospital to raise the alarm. Categorically, she denies having been raped;
instead, she claims that the assailant tore at her clothing and smeared some
foul-smelling substance over her person. She said that he smelt dreadful and
wore gloves.
Matron Tuttworth still works at the College of Physicians at
Great Ormond Street and can be approached about her attack. As detailed
elsewhere, she will not talk of her encounter during work hours but will make
an appointment to speak of it later.
*1893, May 3rd: A grave is discovered in disarray at the
Endell Street church. The body was stolen but no witnesses observed the deed.
If Investigators follow-up on this event, they will be shown
where the infant was interred and told that it was subsequently dug up and
removed. All Father Pascoe will say about the event is that it was “God’s sure
mercy” that the child did not survive.
1892
*1892, September 29th:
Father Pascoe, leader of
the congregation at the Holy Martyr’s Church on Endell Street, reports that a hideously-malformed infant was left
in a box outside the church. Mercifully, he says, the monster succumbed after
only a few hours and was buried in the church graveyard.
If Investigators follow-up on this event, they will be shown
where the infant was interred and told that it was subsequently dug up and
removed. All Father Pascoe will say about the event is that it was “God’s sure
mercy” that the child did not survive.
*1892, September 12th:
Alice Morecombe, a local
prostitute, asserts that she has been raped. When pressed for details by the
recording officer, however, she insists upon leaving the police station without
adding to her statement.
It will be found that Alice is now deceased; however, it
will be discovered that she died by falling under a wagon in 1894. There is no
evidence to be found that will confirm whether or not she was pregnant at the
time.
1892, September 2nd:
Another woman is
attacked at night. Although witnesses saw her being dragged away from the main
road, they were unable to locate her. Later, spotted near the location of her
abduction, dishevelled and confused, she refused to offer a statement or seek
medical assistance.
1892, July 5th: Thomas Hope is viciously attacked in a
back alley off Great Ormond Street, his throat slashed, from which he dies due
to blood loss. The wounds are in triple parallel lines making them unusual in
the daily run of knife attacks.
The story of Thomas Hope’s attack and subsequent demise is
well-known at Great Ormond Street Hospital. Lecturers there like to use the details
of the event to test student doctors as to the best course of action in
treating such an injury and its topicality as real-life event which occurred at
the Hospital gives it valuable cachet.
1892, June 27th:
Sergeant George Enderby,
a soldier returning home from a late night out, encountered a “brute of a man”
assaulting a woman in a laundry yard behind a terrace house on Moor Street near
St. Giles. He dragged the attacker off the hysterical woman but was surprised
at how agile the assailant was. He said the attacker appeared quite old, for
all that he was quite nimble, and that he had a tattoo of two crossed anchors
on the side of his neck. In the struggle, the assailant spat into the soldier’s
face and slipped free, vaulting a ten-foot wooden fence and escaping.
Sergeant Enderby has left the Army and now runs a
gentlemen’s fencing school; he will only be encouraged to talk if one of the
Investigators agrees to take a lesson with him. This will cost 1 Guinea (that’s
£1/1s/-) and will take an hour. If one of the female Investigators agrees, he
will just shrug and go with it, regardless of any outrage that other bystanders
might display. Despite seeming the worse for a bottle of claret which he keeps
handy, Sgt. Enderby is very capable with a blade.
Enderby, after the exertions of his lesson, will be seen to
have a pale mark on the left side of his forehead stretching downwards to his
cheek: it’s not immediately noticeable normally, but it shows up strikingly
when his face gets red from booze and/or exercise. He will explain that the
caustic spit of his assailant left the mark and it won’t seem to go away. Psychology Rolls by party members may
determine that the good sergeant is more than somewhat unsettled by having seen
a man leap a 10-foot tall fence in a single bound.
Sergeant
George Enderby (ret.), Fencing Instructor
char.
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char.
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STR
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17
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POW
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16
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Age
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52
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CON
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17
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DEX
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15
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HP
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18
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SIZ
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18
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APP
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12
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Magic Points
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16
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INT
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15
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EDU
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14
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SAN
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50%
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Damage Bonus: +1D6
Weapon: Fist 70%; Kick 70%; Sabre 85%
Fencing Foil 85%
Armour: None
Skills: First Aid 75%; Suffer Fools 0%
Spells None
SAN
Loss It costs no SAN to see
Sergeant Enderby
1892, April 11th:
Two women are raped in
one night, Amelia Doohan in the early evening on Adeline Street and Jane Prior
in the early morning on Dryden Street. Both claim to have seen a man in a mask
and both reported the smell of sour milk and the fact that the attacker
“growled” or “snored”. Jane recalled that his mouth was “not quite right”.
Amelia survived the birth of her child but – horrified by
its appearance - placed it in a box on the doorstep of the Endell Street Church
before returning to Ireland. Luck Rolls
during investigations may discover a witness who remembers her saying that she
was going to return to Dublin.
Jane Prior also left London and is now deceased.
1892, April 3rd:
Newborn twin girls are
abducted from their Bloomsbury home on Herbrand Street and their mother
brutally slain after retiring to bed. The upstairs bedroom window had been
smashed inwards in order to gain entry; no other signs of the assailant were
found.
Robert Newcombe fell to drink after the murder of his
family. A court case almost saw him hanged for the crime but the evidence could
not convict him. Afterwards he set fire to his house and burned along with it
in December, 1893.
1891
1891, November 23rd:
The rotten, flayed limbs
of a man are found dumped in a rubbish-tip near Seven Dials.
An autopsy report has been filed on this incident.
1891, September 17th:
Anne Pickford dies of
septicaemia.
A death certificate on Anne is available for perusal from
the London Coroner’s Court.
1891, August 4th:
Albert Simmons, an
ex-sailor and bare-knuckle fighter, having just won a very lucrative bout, is
found dead in the upstairs room of the Brown Hare pub where the fight occurred
in Monmouth Street. He had been savagely stabbed in the neck from behind while
seated at a table. The room was closed off while a policeman went to report
and, when it was opened once more, the body had vanished.
The police report records the officers who were set over the
crime scene awaiting the doctor after Albert’s attack. They are non-plussed
about the event, swearing that no-one could have accessed the room during their
watch, given that it was unoccupied by living beings for no more than five
minutes at a stretch. They will also reveal that Albert had a tattoo of two
crossed anchors on his neck.
*1891, July 10th:
Anne Harrowgate is found
dismembered in her house on Remnant Street in Holborn. Her husband Malcolm is
suspected as the killer but it is soon revealed that he was a commercial
traveller who was in the north country at the time of the assault. Neighbours
had called the police, due to having not seen the woman around and the presence
of an overwhelming smell of sour milk about the dwelling. The case is still
unsolved.
Research will discover that Malcolm went to sea after his
wife’s death and the house is now being occupied by his brother Edwin and his
family. They have nothing concrete to add to the report.
1891, July 2nd: Two children walking past an alleyway on
Phoenix Street were grabbed in broad daylight by “a tall figure in a top hat”,
according to witnesses. Despite being pursued by passersby who witnessed the
abduction, they got turned about in the winding alleys, losing the trail in a
dead-end while still able to hear the children’s fading screams.
The party may encounter Bridie Marsh – the childrens’ mother
- wandering the streets crying out for her missing children and occasionally
scribbling their names on the walls – Kitty and Tom. Any approach by the party
will be rebuffed and some locals will come to her defence, explaining that
she’s mad and that she should be left to her own devices. These citizens will
explain that a tall figure in a top hat and cloak snatched her children at the
mouth of an alley in Phoenix Street in broad daylight and that they vanished
before anyone could help. That was in July of 1891.
1891, June 9th: Anne Pickford is attacked in her house on
Marchmont Street, waking to find the assailant hovering over her in her room.
She managed to escape from her bed to the landing as he wrestled with the
bedclothes, but was again attacked on the stairs. She said that the attacker
was blind and that he spat acid at her. She said that he “spilt something on
her which he then tried to mop up”, and left her on the stairs as the rest of
the household responded to her cries. No broken windows were found and all the
doors were securely locked.
1891, January 15th:
Dr John Colfax of
Bedford Square, files a report that a woman died after showing up, in labour,
at his premises after hours. She dies from complications due to the childbirth,
and the malformed baby also perishes. He reveals that the woman told him that
she had been “indecently assaulted” before discovering herself to be “with
child”.
A death certificate on Jeanne is available for perusal from
the London Coroner’s Court.
1890
1890, August 14th:
Another rape upon
prostitute Jeanne Mauvais (a French national) is interrupted by a passing
police officer on Malet Street. The pattern follows the others but, having
trapped the villain in a dead-end lane, the assailant disappeared while the
policeman waited for reinforcements to arrive.
1890, July 18th:
Police issue a warning
in the form of handbills throughout the Holborn–Bloomsbury district, warning
women to keep inside after dark. Articles about “the Marauder” appear in the
gutter-press.
1890, July 11th:
The flayed torso of a
man is fished out of the Thames near Limehouse.
An autopsy report has been filed on this incident.
1890, June 17th:
The child of a
well-to-do couple is abducted from her governess, Irene Tetley, in Red Lion
Square, Holborn, on a foggy early morning. Despite being in an open area and
away from any other people, the nurse was knocked down and lost consciousness
for a few moments; when she awoke the child was gone.
Irene was blamed unfairly for her charge’s abduction,
although no evidence could be found that would bring a conviction: she has sunk
low and can be found at a doss in Whitechapel, reeking of gin and bitterness at
her treatment. The abducted child’s parents will not speak of the matter.
1890, June 8th: Margaret and Martin Walford, a couple
returning home from an evening entertainment were attacked in Bedford Square.
The gentleman was clubbed immediately into unconsciousness and the woman
dragged into an alley. There, she was savagely raped and beaten, falling into
unconsciousness. She was discovered and revived by passersby and taken to Great
Ormond Street; however, she died of shock and exposure several days later. Of
her consort there was no sign, apart from his dented and bloodied hat which has
been retained in the Police evidence room.
The surviving Walfords have been brutally savaged in the
Press for not being willing to share their experience with the newspapers. Any
attempts by the Investigators to interview them will be rebuffed in the
strongest terms.
If the party asks to see Martin’s hat, it will be retrieved
for them from the evidence locker at the police headquarters.
1890, April 9th:
Barry Gough, a known
criminal, is attacked late in the night on Denmark Street by an unseen
assailant. The attacker leapt out at him from an alleyway and slashed him
across the face with a knife. When he retaliated, he said that the marauder was
a “little fellow, but wiry and spry”. After getting hold of his hands, the
victim was surprised to have been suddenly bitten savagely on the neck. He
yelled and attracted a gathering of Samaritans which forced the attacker to
flee. The victim was badly scarred but survived after being carried to Great
Ormond Street.
Barry Gough is currently residing, “at Her Majesty’s
pleasure”, in Newgate Prison. Arrangements can be made to speak with him there.
He will be willing to talk about the attack in return for a basket of fresh
food or a new set of clothes. He has three parallel lines scoring his face and
a ring of deep, circular scars puncturing the top of his right trapezius. He
recalls that his assailant was “a small, wiry bugger what ‘opped about like a
frog”. He admits that, without the help of those coming to his assistance, he
wouldn’t be here today.
1890, January 15th: Police constable Ian Carstairs discovers
a woman lying seemingly asleep in an alley off Monmouth Street in St. Giles. He
determines that the woman is dead, having given birth in the street; the baby
is also dead. He summons reinforcements with his whistle and stays by the
corpses while a cart is fetched to carry it to Great Ormond Street Hospital.
PC Carstairs suffered a complete mental breakdown after this
event and spent some time in a private sanatorium in Kent. He has now returned
to London and has begun to pick up the threads of his career, although nowadays
he stays in the Police Headquarters looking after the needs of prisoners,
rather than walking a beat. The mere mention of him possibly returning to patrolling
duties is enough to make him turn pale.
If questioned closely about the night of his discovery, it
transpires that there is more going on than was revealed in the report. He
swears that the woman’s body was moving when he found it and that he thought
she was breathing heavily; if pressed, he says that it was actually the movements
of the baby chewing on its mother’s corpse which gave this false impression. He
has no memory of what happened next until another officer responded to his
whistle: at that time, both corpses were quite dead. Psychology Rolls reveal that PC Carstairs is suffering from
crippling guilt because he suspects he may have had a hand in the infant’s
demise (and he’s not wrong).
Spot Hidden Rolls should also be made to determine that PC
Carstairs is wearing a bronze Masonic emblem on his watch-fob. With an Idea Roll, players will learn why this
police officer could afford the luxury of a private sanatorium and how he also
got his old job back (and come on – you knew there were going to be Masons
lurking in the background at some point!).
A death certificate on the unidentified woman is available
for perusal from the London Coroner’s Court.
1889
1889, December 12th:
John Colfax, a doctor from the local teaching
hospital at Great Ormond Street, reports having delivered two women in quick
succession of “monstrous births” which they did not survive. In his report he
names the women – Louise Clarke and Helen Cooper - and mentions that both told
him that they had been attacked previously and thereafter discovered themselves
pregnant.
Dr Colfax is convinced that the notion of “monsters”, that
is, deformities of birth, has less to do with genetics (or the contemporary
equivalent) and more to do with something alien entering the breeding pool. He
has studied at Great Ormond Street for some years but his bizarre theories have
kept him from graduating to his own practise. He has established a clinic in
his rooms in Bloomsbury, working with women who require his skills - mainly the
prostitutes of the St. Giles Rookery.
Dr. Colfax has noticed a great number of local women who
have been attacked and who have given birth to monstrosities about five months
later. Some of these women have survived; the majority – and their offspring –
have not. On one occasion, the child appeared to thrive and Colfax euthanized
it in his horror. At the time he heard a terrible scream and a banging in the
alley outside his home; since then he has had periods of feeling as though
someone is intently watching him. He has not spotted anyone in the act of doing
so.
A Psychology Roll is needed to bring this fact to
light: Colfax is hugely guilt-ridden concerning his actions and paranoid about
their consequences. Without a sympathetic approach, his notes will remain
off-limits.
Each of the horrible births has been recorded by him and the
foetuses that he has delivered are preserved in jars of formalin (0/1D4 SAN).
If the party makes his acquaintance, and addresses his personal issues
supportively, they can read all of the good Doctor’s notes on the matter.
Dr.
John Colfax, Intrepid Medical Researcher
char.
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char.
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char.
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STR
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14
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POW
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15
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Age
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38
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CON
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13
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DEX
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15
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HP
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13
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SIZ
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12
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APP
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11
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Magic Points
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15
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INT
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17
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EDU
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20
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SAN
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55%
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Damage Bonus: +1D4
Weapon: Scalpel 70%
Armour: None
Skills: First Aid 75%; Medicine 85%
Spells None
SAN
Loss It costs no SAN to see Dr.
Colfax
1889, July 3rd: Helen Cooper, a seamstress, is attacked on Boswell Street whilst on her way home
from work. She describes her assailant as tall and thin with a big cloak and
tall hat, pulled well down. He spat at her and pushed her over, dragging her
into an alleyway: there, he tore at her clothes and covered her with rotten
milk, rubbing it into her skin “about her nethers”. She failed to see his face,
but described him as “having two hands on the same arm”.
A death certificate on Helen is available for perusal from
the London Coroner’s Court.
1889, June 29th:
Louise Clarke, a prostitute from the St. Giles region,
reports being tripped and fallen upon by a man “in dark clothes” on Bedford
Avenue. She fought the man and won free, but not before he tore her clothing
and spilt a bottle of “something foul” over her. She said that she thought he
must work with dogs because he stank of old meat and growled at her.
A death certificate on Louise is available for perusal from
the London Coroner’s Court.
1889, June 7th: An attack upon barmaid Marie Brown after
hours on Morwell Street is interrupted by a policeman: the woman has been
severely clawed and her clothing torn from her body. She reports the assailant
growled and snorted while attacking her; the examining doctor describes the
woman as smelling of sour milk. The woman reports that the attacker spat a
caustic substance at her: he seemed to be wearing a mask under his tall hat;
she didn’t see his eyes at all.
Marie used to be a barmaid at The Bell tavern; she quit
after the assault and inquiries there reveal that she went to live with her
grandmother in Devon. Following up this lead will reveal that she suffered no
further consequences from the attack.
1889, May 13th: Scotland Yard issues report that a “man
in a mask” has been linked to several attacks upon women in the St. Giles area;
police are put on notice to gather more information.
*1889, 12th of April:
Sybil Watts reports that
her “friend” Dan Prentice, a costermonger
from Seven Dials, has gone missing after a boozy night.
Several barkeeps and other barrowmen are owed money by
Prentice: questions about him in the Covent Garden area will bring forth the
aggrieved. The party may also encounter Sybil Watts chalking-up notices around
the area and can talk to her about the disappearance.
1888
1888, all year: Jack the Ripper runs amok. Many reports
of attacks on prostitutes; most are disregarded, or only cursorily
investigated.
1887
*1887, sometime in November:
A prostitute gives birth
to a “monster” in the St. Giles Rookery: mother and child both perish. This is
an urban legend that prevails in the slums and ghettoes – the “rookeries” – of St.
Giles and Seven Dials. The Investigators will often hear this story if they go
poking about in such places, told in hushed toned and muttered asides.
*1887, July 11th: A group of itinerants report that three
children, including a baby asleep in a cot, were abducted from a hovel in the
St. Giles Rookery overnight. Since they claim not to be related to the missing
infants and are unwilling to leave any further details, no action is taken.
1887, June 18th:
A badly decomposed body,
missing its skin, is found floating in the Thames, below Cleopatra’s Needle on
the Embankment.
An autopsy report has been filed on this incident.
*1887, June 13th: A prostitute identifying herself as
“Rose Ledyard” gives an hysterical account of having been raped by an unknown
assailant. Given her advanced state of intoxication, no action is taken
1887, June 7th: Joan Wilson, a prostitute, is attacked by
a “masked man” whom she approached on Museum Street in the vicinity of St.
Giles. The woman was badly scratched, and sprayed with a mildly acidic
substance.
The Investigators can locate Joan still plying her trade in
the local district. In return for payment, she will show the party her scarred
arm (three parallel lines of scratches) and also the pale stain on her face and
neck that becomes more visible when she blushes: this is the result of the acid
with which she was sprayed, she explains.
*1887, June 2nd: An unidentified prostitute claims that
she was raped by an unknown assailant. She declines to leave any other details
1887, May 5th: James Twombley, a coachman is snatched
off the roof of his hansom while driving along Russell Square. He is beaten and
bruised, and his hat and coat are stolen.
Twombley is a well-known local in the West-End and still has
his taxi-route. He walks with a limp since his attack and is bitter about the
loss of his hat and coat, the theft of which he puts down to professional
jealousy or high-jinks.
*1887, April 30th:
Denis Avery, an elderly
nightwatchman on the British Museum grounds, is reported as missing by his wife
Maisie: his disappearance was remarked upon only because he was dependable sort
who would not have absented himself without warning.
The Investigators may encounter Maisie Avery chalking up
notices about Denis in the district.
*****
Various
Lists:
Abductions
– Children
Abductions
– Other
Attacks
– Men
Attacks
– Rapes
*****
Spring-heeled
Jack
This
urban bogey was big news in the early 1800s and scared the living daylights out
of the London populace while it was a newsworthy phenomenon. Nowadays, there’s
enough evidence to lay the origin of the monster at the feet of the degenerate
Lord Waterford of the day who became a member of the infamous Hellfire Club. He
was known to have arranged various crazy wagers with his fellow club-mates, one
of which was to impersonate a large creature, such as a bear or some other
fancy-dress monster, and attack random nightwalkers.
It’s
clear that Lord Waterford – probably due to whatever he was
sniffing/drinking/smoking – overly enjoyed leaping out of shadows to attack
young women on their way home, spitting phosphorous onto them and scratching at
them with homemade claws of bent tin. Although arrested for suspicion over
these attacks, his wealth prevented a conviction and he was sent to distant
family holdings to recover and settle down.
What
would have inspired a titled and wealthy gentleman of leisure to act in such a
manner? What juvenile influence worked upon him such that he felt compelled to
scuttle about in the darkness and savage late-night wanderers from the shadows?
Personally, I’m not sure what the attraction might have been, but then they
didn’t have Playstation and Netflix back then. Whatever the allure, they
kickstarted a cultural phenomenon that resurged time and again across the next
many decades.
Londoners
became primed to blame spooky attacks and night-time strangenesses on
Spring-heeled Jack, everything from poltergeist activity to cat burglary, at
the least provocation. In fact, until another, more hideous Jack came along,
the Spring-heeled one was the ‘go-to ghoul’ for London-based mystery. The
street people of 1895 London are also apt to bring up Jack as a cause for all
the mayhem so it might well serve your players to read up a little bit about
him while they try to solve the puzzle of the Marauder. The following are some
newspaper extracts which will provide the essentials.
Keepers
who are intrigued about Spring-heeled Jack should check out Mike Dash’s online
paper concerning him for more information:
*****
And
finally, when the scope of the whole situation begins to dawn upon your
Investigators, the Press slaps them in the face with this journalistic barb:
To
Be Continued...
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