Carstairs Wilkes Tyndale



Five points

Agility d4 +1 d6 →Training d8

Smarts d4 +2 d8

Spirit d4 +0 d4 →Training d6

Strength d4 +1 d6

Vigor d4 +1 d6


17 skill Points

Investigation +3 D8 +2

Streetwise +3 D8 +2

Fighting +4 D8

Notice +3 D8 +2, -2 to detect surprise

Craft (Sketch) +2 D6 → Training D8

Shooting +2 D6 → Training D8

Knowledge (19th Century Technology) D4


Code of Honor Major Character keeps his word and acts like a gentleman

Doubting Thomas Minor Character doesn’t believe in the supernatural

Loyal Minor The hero tries to never betray or disappoint his friends


Alertness N +2 Notice

Investigator N, Sm d8, Inv. d8, +2 Investigation and Streetwise

Streetwise d8

Danger Sense N, Notice at –2 to detect surprise attacks/danger

Linguist N, Sm d6 ,Begin play with a number of languages equal to Smarts; Smarts –2 to be understood in any language heard for a week
8 Languages
English D8, French D6, Cockney D8, Gaelic D6, German D6, Spanish D6, Greek (Ancient) D6, Latin (High) D6

Equipment: Issued Victorian loaned, IPAD.
G27 Sub Compact, 10mm, 2 9rd, 2 13rd, mags, 1 shoulder holster, two boxes 50rds.
Webley revolver, top break, .38

Leather top opening satchel (Oiled and water resistant) investigative tools and sketch materials. Contains IDET loaned Ipad.

Carstairs Wilkes Tyndale the son of an illiterate Teamster turns City Policeman and a Seamstress. Wallace Tyndale loaded a cart with his family’s possessions and set out for London with hopes of a better life for his son and a proper job. Constance Tyndale worried about such an adventure but, Wallace is her Husband and she trusts him to do what is best. Wallace expected to continue being a Teamster hauling cargo by the cartload for his employer as did his Father. Wallace looked on his son and vowed to do better for his son and there would be someone to care for him in his dotage too. London was nothing like Wallace or Constance could have imagined. The immensity of its sprawl upon the Earth. The intensity of its smells at once putrid and sweet. Wallace turned toward the East End recognizing those of his station in life by the clothes and demeanor that carried them. The residents however saw prey, somebody with something that could be taken. Three ruffians seized upon baskets and satchels within Wallace’s cart, knocking Carstairs out and upon the ground. The scream springing from Constance Tyndale’s throat attracted only onlookers, there were no hero’s on this street this day. Wallace was snatched abruptly to the present by the cry from his wife, spinning to see the boy tumble to the ground and his mother dive upon him. Wallace didn’t think and reacted to protect his loves and their meager lots, seizing an axe handle from the cart Wallace laid about himself and upon the ruffians with great broad stroke of a yew handle. In but a moment two had tumbled to the ground struck witless, with the third leaving behind his theft and ill-fitting shoes to run faster. A pair of Constables rounded the corner owing to the scream and the on looking crowd finding Wallace beside his cart in the lane, chest heaving and Constance sobbing holding young Carstairs as they found refuge under the cart. The onlookers provided all the questions and more that the Constables would have asked.

The Tyndale’s went on their way more alert to realities of the City, a beggar for two pence brought them to a home that might have room for more in a City splitting at the seams. Wallace clenched his jaw and looked upon the flophouse with resignation, Constance wanted to plead to try somewhere else, to push on. Constance knew from the streets they had just tread and the height of the sun. The sun dropped into late afternoon and shadows grew long in already darkened tight streets. The first floor seemed to boast solely of a place to gather and drink. The bartender and roomer had a space, a single room on the second just recently vacated and sure not to stay as such, for a few schillings a week. Just a room and a single bed, and neither large to boot. The bartender let the cart into a side yard and Wallace brought up their things after heaving the mattress belonging to the previous occupant out. Constance faced burned red as the other occupants of the house came down from their rooms to ply their trade upon the Streets as the Suns light faded. A dozen or more fallen women with their displays of skin and bold looks; adding the cacophony of their urban patois to the murmur and roar of a beer hall in full steam. Wallace came down to the hall the next morning to find two Constables on the street waiting for him. The asked for him by name and if he was the man from the street fight the afternoon before. Wallace answered it was true and he had. Wallace led away by two police Constables at such an early hour and known by name caused him only to worry. The Sergeant at the Station asked him more questions and repeated them twice more. Wallace answered plain as he could and did not stammer once. One of the ruffians died that night concussed by the axe handle Wallace had gripped. Satisfied that Wallace was an honest man if a country rube, the Sergeant asked if Wallace would care to make himself a Policeman as they needed Men good in a fight, to intimidate to say no, Wallace accepted. That is how destiny placed its first marker upon the life path of Carstairs Wilkes Tyndale, no one looked better or more important to him for such a long time as when his Father returned wearing the full kit of a Police Constable of Robert Street Station, Hoxton, St. Luke’s, & Finsbury, the East End, London.

Carstairs Wilkes Tyndale

Fringeworthy: Year Zero kedamono ArmySGT