A Prelude...

[jp1885]

Time seldom goes slowly for members of The Folly. Your return to London from the wilds of Herefordshire is greeted with little fanfare: with Nightingale and Peter busy with investigations of their own, you are left to deal with the multitude of supposedly minor tasks that are the lot of junior members of the Met's supernatural branch.

Whether it's your turn to read to the genius loci of Stonewaters book shop in Covent Garden, taking a certain book for it's regular walk or liaising with the regular plod, increasingly ready to palm off every bothersome weirdo that crops up as a Falcon case; you have little time to dwell upon your recent experiences.

What free time you do have is, in the main, taken up with training and research.

Time for a little freeform roleplaying. You have your Development Points and your characters have experienced something of the weird world of the demi-monde and their ilk. How are you spending those point? What are your characters thinking and doing?

[Mr. Handy]

Jordan spends time between cases studying and practicing martial arts. He knows it won't do much good against revenants or other entities they might face, but surely there must be evil wizards, and a good punch could knock one down for the count. He also develops stronger discipline and patience from his lessons, which will no doubt be helpful too. He isn't yet ready to break a board with the edge of his hand, but he has earned a yellow belt.

[Snapper]

Skipper is enjoying the novelty of a reliable, regular pay for the first time since leaving the Navy. His free time during the day is often spent taking further classes to improve his Private Investigator qual's. Happily, post-COVID, there are lots of vocational courses almost entirely online, which suits him down to the ground. The forensic observational skills courses have been particularly helpful and he's enjoyed them.

He did spend an unpleasant half-day being cross-examined during yet another judicial commission into phone-hacking. Politely explaining his phone hacking skills and activities earned him hateful glares from both some minor nobility and pro footballers / WAGs attached thereto (the victims), and the very rich son of a family that owned a measurable percentage of the world's media (the previous employer). Can't please all the people all the time, he thinks.

The Folly has unexpectedly helped Skipper locate his moral compass, mislaid after leaving the Navy. A few days after getting back to London, he marches down and enlists in the Royal Naval Reserve, committing himself to the odd weekend at HMS President. This makes him much happier than he expected.

Skipper spends three (ish) nights a week BJJ training, mostly sparring, for professional purposes, and truthfully to keep the kebab kilojoule intake at bay.

He decides he's sick of doing Folly-related field internet research on the screen of an iPhone. He buys a relatively economical "rugged" tablet computer, and has a navy techie mate remove the battery and rig the gadget so it can be run on just a detachable power-bank. Now he can use his computer skills in the field without getting RSI and a headache.

Finally, once a month Skipper takes the tube to Maritime Greenwich, generally on a Sunday, mostly to visit the chapel at the old Naval College. He's not overly religious except when his life is in danger, but he likes to remember his friends who didn't make it. And there's no need to come visit me at home to remind me you're dead, I'm well aware of it.

[Trivun]

After the events in Nennington, Izzy decided to spend some time building up her arsenal of magic for future use, particularly if the group found themselves facing another revenant again. She was shaken by the encounter with Lee Snelgrove, given that the only revenant previously encountered by the Folly in recent times had been Mr Punch, and look what had happened there. She had no desire to find her face falling off, nor to be possessed by something so dark and horrible, and she worried about ending up going the same way as one Lesley May.

Fortunately, Alice was there to support her emotionally, and when they weren't too busy on other cases, Peter and Nightingale were around to help professionally.

Still, there was another reason to boost her spell knowledge. Although Izzy didn't say a word to their superiors about Leo and his errant Fireball in the skittles shed, she did request that Nightingale teach Aqua as her next spell. She spent plenty of time practising it, making sure she could get the basic forma right each and every time.

As the weather got colder, Izzy spent plenty of time in the Folly lecture hall, the better to practice in private without disturbing the other occupants of the building. She was using the front section of the hall, where young practitioners had once spent their own afternoons showing off spells they had developed to their friends and colleagues, each trying to out-do the other. On the front row of seats, Alice sat watching, interested in seeing the magic performed, and also trying her best to distract Toby the dog with a plate of sausages thoughtfully provided by Molly. Right now, Toby was less of a ghost hunting dog, and more of a water balloon hunting dog. Every time Izzy cast her newly learned Aqua, she would hold it in place, before tossing it ahead of her with an impello, for Toby to catch. She'd opted to practice up here, rather than in one of the libraries, for fear of drawing the wrath of Professor Postmartin by getting the books wet. Although, never mind Harold - she would have been furious at herself for ruining such tomes, being something of a literary purist herself. She had refused outright to buy a Kindle, after all, in favour of the touch of paper on her fingers every time she turned a page. She did have to take a break soon enough, since too much magic use in such a short space of time always ran the risk of hyperthaumaturgical degradation. Or cauliflower brain, in layman's terms. Izzy sat down next to Alice and watched as Toby started chasing tossed sausages instead of water globes. Maybe they were feeding him a bit too much, but at least switching to sausages meant he wouldn't smell too badly of wet dog...

[SaintMeerkat]

DC Leo Dansby.jpg (16.73 KiB) Viewed 383 times

During both of Leo's last outings, there were moments when an intense flash would have made everyone's lives easier, so he decided to spend his study time mastering the famous werelight. He spent an inordinate amount of time in view of the entrances, hoping to get a glimpse of Varvara, but she must have been as busy as Grant and Nightingale.

He managed to spend some time on Saturday at the family Brownstone. His mother, Joyce, was in early stages of dementia, so he was relieved when she recognized him and managed to get his name, Leofric, correct. His sister, Hilda, who lives with them, isn't always so lucky.

When Folly duties didn't interfere, Leo and his father, Winston, had a weekly ritual. His sister would run interference with his mother while he had a drink in the den with his father, watched a few episodes of something sci-fi (Picard this week), and they pretended, for the evening, that Joyce's gradually receding personhood was still a thing of the past. His father waxed eloquent about James Burke and Connections, and about how that Yank that nattered on about star-stuff had a point, followed by a rousing cursing of John Nathan-Turner. Then the standard, "So when are you going to meet a nice man..." followed by the standard "Oh, you know this copper job..."

But tonight was different. As Leo cleaned up and turned off the telly, his father lingered in the old leather chair for a moment.

"Leofric..." Winston managed. His eyes glistened. "We're losing her..." Leo froze. This was the first time Winston had brought up the subject with Leo.

Leo immediately wanted to make a joke about not getting rid of Mom that easily. He wanted to change the subject. Remark hopefully about the wide range of dementia therapies available these days. But all he could do was turn toward his father.

“I know, Dad.” Suddenly, he was a scared kid again rather than a fireball casting wizard. “I know…”

That night, Leo and his father’s hug was longer than normal. As Leo headed for the door, he started to say “If you need me to…”

“Hilda has been amazing through all this. And these visits…these visits mean the world to me. They are going to mean even more as your mother gets worse. Son, I don’t know what your real job is, but I think it’s a little more than just regular coppering. Please… Be careful…I can’t…”

Leo hugged his Dad firmly. “Roger, roger…” he whispered.

Usually Leo took the Tube back to the Folly. Tonight, he decided, was a good night for a walk.

[Philulhu]

Des was still in that strange in-between state. She was employed by the Folly but she certainly weren’t no copper! That said, she felt she had to do something but really didn’t know where to start.

Everyone else was busy with their own stuff and Nightingale and Peter Grant were similarly occupied. Feeling very much like a spare part and just finding herself under Mary’s feet half the time, she let herself out and went home to see her mum for a couple days. She tried to chill out but she couldn’t settle and two days later she was back at the Folly again, mooching around, trying to keep busy and/or out of everyone’s way. At least it gave her time to think about what she wanted to do…

She waited around until she saw Molly taking Nightingale his supper one evening and when the strange woman was gone, she slipped inside his study.

”I’ve decided,” she said. ”I wanna learn how to do magic. You’re gonna teach me how!”

[jp1885]

Jordan - your training goes well. After a hard day at work, it's liberating to let off some steam and hit something! All this physical activity leaves you feeling more confident in yourself and your abilities - most importantly of all your ability to protect your family from the supernatural world you have been exposed to.

Skipper - It feels good to be out of the 'mire' and do something worthwhile with your life. Positive action and positive development are your watchwords - at least for now. As if the universe was awarding you for your efforts, you receive an email out of the blue from the Reverend Maureen Shipley. She thanks you for your photographs and promises to publish them in the next parish magazine. "I will of course post you a copy, unless you'd like to read it the next time you visit Nennington(?)" she concludes.

Izzy - your attempts to master Aqua go very well (despite perhaps the occasional soaking). As you grow in confidence, you begin to notice Nightingale watching your training, nodding in approval. Less keen on your progress is Molly, who, tired of having to dry off a wet Toby, rather pointedly dumps a bundle of towels onto your bench during latter sessions!

Leo - with worrying family developments at home, you are to be congratulated for having the mental discipline to master the Werelight spell. The training proves to be a welcome respite from your worries. Working with Peter Grant is also helpful. Seemingly taking an interest in your development, he guides you through the intricacies of the spell, realising that your initial training as a 'hedge wizard' lacked the structure of a proper Newtownian regime. You feel more ready to take on whatever the demi-monde throw at you!

Des - You demand causes a deep frown from Nightingale. "Are you absolutely sure?" he asks. Naturally you insist in your own pugnacious fashion and so, with perhaps undue reluctance, he eventually agrees. Your initial training is painfully slow, consisting mainly of Latin primers and gruesome safety lectures. Visions of casting fireballs and levitating busses are swiftly cast from your mind, replaced by dull textbooks and frustratingly fruitless practice sessions.

In game the mechanics, you need to accrue 10 Development Points to acquire a Major Advantage - in this case Magical.

Interviews from Neil Sholto-Jones and the other (now former) Nutters reveal that they know little of the truth. Neil claims that he would 'blank out' during certain activities - renovating the skittle alley for example. Nightingale believes that this was a form of subtle (and thankfully non-damaging) sequestration.

Nightingale and Postmartin spend most of their time studying the now vacant urn you brought back from Herefordshire. They conclude that the Snelgrove revenant dissipated when the skittles match was abandoned and the alley burned down.

They believe that it was created sometime shortly before the Muslim conquest of Central Asia and that the original owner must have been thwarted in their efforts due to this. Postmartin is able to uncover a brief description of the urn in 17th century Ottoman Istanbul, before tracing it to the ownership of a British officer following WW1. When his stately home was sold, it found it's way to a junk shop, where it was bought by one of the Nutters. It appears that the 'ritual' they held to commemorate their captain accidently fulfilled the function the urn was designed to perform all those centuries ago.

As for the original owner... Nightingale asks you to confirm the extremely faint vestigia - a bare imprint - that he can detect. After some considerable concentration, you sense it too: a chill wind, a bleak and lifeless vista and a cold yet burning anger...

One day, you receive a note from Dr. Abdul Haqq Walid: the official physician and pathologist of the Folly. "Good morning. A friend of mine has informed me of a possible Falcon case. Thomas said I should pass this on to you - you'll undoubtably find this instructive. You have an appointment to meet Dr. Aaron Friedman, pathologist at the Royal Surrey County Hospital in Guildford at 11am sharp. Please don't be late."

New thread coming up - please proceed in an orderly fashion.