As a London copper, I’ve seen some pretty weird shit, but even I was taken aback when I learned that magic was actually a thing. Real, proper magic, with spells and everything!
Also, ghosts are real! And vampires, trolls, fairies, river gods… and there’s this whole subculture of weirdos and half-fae… oh, and don’t get me started on talking bloody foxes…
Shouldn’t come as a surprise that the Metropolitan Police secretly know all about this crap. There’s the Special Assessment Unit, run from this posh house called The Folly by a posh Detective Inspector called Nightingale (and his apprentice Peter Grant), that investigates supernatural crimes and other weird bollocks. And it turns out, they’re recruiting…
Leo paused for a moment, staring off into the distance as though he were hundreds of miles away, only to shake himself back to the here and now. "Well, yes. Natural causes, of course. Not making any accusations along that line."
"However, having said that, there was some letter to the editor about...hmm, what was it?" Leo paused, pretending to search for the right word while he knew exactly the term. He took a sip of the tea, "Oh, yes...black magic! Poppycock, right? Everyone knows magic isn't real."
"Well bully for them! Perhaps they've been practising a lot." he says.
To Leo, he sighs.
“Not that black magic rubbish again! That was just some silliness really. After Lee's funeral we thought it’d be a nice send-off to take all his rulebooks, score sheets and the like and burn them. We stuffed the ashes in an urn and left it in the alley as a tribute. Thought it’d be nice to have him sort-of watching over us."
"But after a while we kind of lost heart and packed it in. Who wants to play on an alley where someone’s died anyway? Then some silly buggers started accusing us of doing black magic and that kind of made our minds up really.”
Jordan, being an excellent judge of character, can tell that the man's defensive demeanour crumbles at the presentation of izzy's warrant card.
"Oh! Um, come in," he splutters, stepping back to allow you access.
"My name's Ken Dansen, by the way - no relation before you ask," he babbles. "Shall I put the kettle on?"
Pleased at the offer of a cuppa, Izzy is all smiles as she enters. "That'd be great, thanks. Tea for me please, milk, one sugar." She resists the urge to ask for 'Tea, Earl Grey, hot' - recalling a similar occurrence on a previous house call that had resulted in DI Stephanopoulos rolling her eyes and gently reminding her in the car back to Belgravia that such pop culture references aren't the most appropriate when speaking to a grieving widow about her murdered husband's extra-marital affair.
As the trio head inside, Izzy allows her eyes to wander around, such that anyone watching would think her to be idly interested in the décor, but with just enough focus to try and spot anything particularly interesting about the house, and especially to learn more about its occupant...
"I dunno. We used to keep it on a table in the alley, but I don’t suppose it’s still there now – that new landlord probably threw it away when he did the place up.” he says, before pausing for second in thought.
“Didn't Wobbly Clarke got it from some old junk shop? Yeah, that was it! Old Wobbly would tell you, if he hadn’t moved to Aberystwyth a couple of years ago. And then died.”
Somewhat placated, Ken disappears into the kitchen and busies himself with the tea, giving you time to take in your surroundings.
Which, to be honest, aren't very interesting. If the living room is representative of the rest of the house, it's clearly a middle-aged bachelor pad, and a modest one at that. There are no feminine touches that you can ascertain, although, to Ken's credit, the room is reasonably clean.
Izzy, under a coffee table, you spot a box folder, labelled 'Skittles', next to a pile of luridly coloured magazines.
"I won't be a sec! Just gotta clean a couple of mugs - don't usually have so many visitors!" Ken yells, amid the sound of a sink being filled.
Leo tried not to get too excited when Archie mentioned the potential location of the vase. He nodded agreeing with the old man, "Yeah, it's probably gone, but at least we did get some information about what was inside it. That could be more helpful than you think. Thank you for that.
Leo sighed when he heard the old man died. "You wouldn't believe how often I hear that in this business. You know, too bad there's not some way to talk to dead people. Did you see 'Pushing Daisies'?" he asked the two. "Man, that would make our jobs so much easier."
OOC: Is Leo familiar with any rituals involving burnt items of value to a person being placed in a magical urn?
"That tends to be the case when people see a warrant card," Izzy whispers back. "Everyone has something to hide, even me or you. I've never walked into a house and shown this without the occupant being nervous even if they've done nothing wrong. The hard part is finding out if what they're hiding is relevant to the case in hand."
Seeing the folder, Izzy wonders if she'll have enough time while Ken is making the drinks to sneak a quick look. She goes for it, flipping it open and doing her best to skim through the contents, narrowing her search simply to any reference to an urn. She doesn't have time to actually read the papers inside, but flicks through, looking for the words to jump out at her, or even better, perhaps a picture.
Seeing what Voodoo Plod is up to, Skipper nonchalantly heads to the kitchen.
"Let me help, Mr Dansen, I'm a whiz with a tea towel. One useful thing I learnt in my Navy days, maybe the only thing. Least we can do to help though, as we are imposing with no notice. You wash, I'll wipe."
OOC: Skipper's plan is to ensure the other two are well warned when he and Dansen return with the tea.
Last edited by Snapper on Thu Apr 20, 2023 3:46 pm, edited 1 time in total.
SaintMeerkat wrote: ↑Thu Apr 20, 2023 4:53 am
DC Leo Dansby.jpg
Leo tried not to get too excited when Archie mentioned the potential location of the vase. He nodded agreeing with the old man, "Yeah, it's probably gone, but at least we did get some information about what was inside it. That could be more helpful than you think. Thank you for that.
Leo sighed when he heard the old man died. "You wouldn't believe how often I hear that in this business. You know, too bad there's not some way to talk to dead people. Did you see 'Pushing Daisies'?" he asked the two. "Man, that would make our jobs so much easier."
OOC: Is Leo familiar with any rituals involving burnt items of value to a person being placed in a magical urn?
Please make a Magic roll. A hard success I reckon.
Des looked at Leo blankly. ’Pushin’ Daisies?’ she wondered. She’d seen a poster for a band called the Dead Daisies but got the impression that Leo was talking about something else...
Leo, you can't think of anything about burnt items and vases (unless you want to spend 30 luck to make it a Hard success).
The old man looks as bewildered as Des.
"I wouldn't know nothing about that.” he says. “I dunno what the new landlord did with the vase, even if it was still there. Perhaps that builder feller threw it away when he bought the pub... ooh... about twenty years ago? Before he supposedly killed himself anyway.”
He grunts, apparently scoffing at this notion.
Izzy and Jordan, the folder contains various records, score sheets and league tables; all appertaining to the local skittles league. It's all rather dry and uninteresting, although it does highlight how well the Nennington Nutters are doing, with convincing wins at every home game.
Also, tucked under a copy of The Stranger Times magazine are a couple of letters of complaint from other teams, accusing the Nutters of cheating, although no-one seems able to provide any hard evidence of this.
In the kitchen, Dansen grins nervously at Skipper.
"Cheers... Um... I hate to be rude, but what's this all about exactly?"