Liminal: The Mitchester Arms, episode 6: A Little Light Kidnapping

Topher drove us out of the city, dodging police cars and ANPR cameras as he went, until we reached an abandoned warehouse in an old industrial estate. For all her good qualities, Vanessa is a very distinctive vehicle, and while they hadn't brought the helicopters out yet, we needed to get her out of sight. Topher tried to force the door open, overdid it a bit and broke the door. But we were in, and could get Vanessa under cover.

We weren't alone. Celia was there, not looking at all pleased to see us. Understandable, under the circumstances. She had worked for the Sibyl, after all. And now her visions were getting worse - full on prophet type stuff - and seemed to involve us. There was a house we needed to visit after dark, along with Roberts. She was clearly holding something back though, and after some prodding, she described how there was a black bird sitting on Fiona's shoulder, wearing the death mask of a child.

Naturally we were concerned for Celia's safety. None of us said it out loud, but it was obvious we were all thinking the same thing. With the Sibyl dead, someone might have to take their place, and it was looking a lot like that someone was going to be Celia. She told us not to worry about her, but even if we were all wrong about her becoming the Sibyl, it still seemed like a dangerous time to be a diviner, particularly one who'd just unexpectedly got a lot better at it. As she was leaving I told her that I was still going to worry about her. That wasn't negotiable. She gave me a hug.

Left alone, we sat the unconscious Roberts on an old chair, and Topher went out to check on the perimeter. Shortly afterwards we heard the sound of him running. Then I heard a voice talking about how fast Topher was, and complaining about him not being able to understand. I'd heard voices like that before. Animal communication doesn't quite work the same way as talking, but my brain still interprets it the same way. It seemed only polite to go out and have a chat with the fox that had just apparently been racing Topher.

He seemed a friendly sort, obviously impressed with Topher's physical prowess. He was also hungry, unsurprisingly, so I asked Topher if he could find us anything to eat. With Topher out of the way, the fox lowered his voice - hardly necessary given that Topher couldn't understand him anyway - and told me that Topher was one of Them, and that he was basically a ticking time bomb who could turn on me at any moment. Which was pretty damn unsettling, but I wasn't entirely convinced. Topher seemed as distressed by the knowledge of who his father was as any of us. Anyway, Topher came back then with a stale pasty he'd found in Vanessa, which we shared between the three of us, although I couldn't help noticing the fox didn't touch his share until he'd seen me eating mine.

The fox went on his way, and I went back into the warehouse. Topher wanted to know about the conversation, but I just told him the fox was being a drama queen, which was probably the truth. It was quiet in there. Too quiet. Somewhere like this I'd expect to hear the sounds of animals and birds, particularly the kind of thing that triggers all my predator instincts, but there was nothing. I lit a fire, but found myself shivering in spite of it.

Eventually the dickhead woke up. With several hours before we needed to follow Celia's guidance, we figured we might as well talk to him, and took the tape off his mouth. Topher tried to wind him up, but that just resulted in a long string of insults that could have come straight from a 1970s cop show. Eventually Topher gave up, got out a book of philosophy, and started reading it to him, which didn't seem to improve his mood.

With Topher having taken a rather unorthodox approach to playing bad cop, I thought I'd have a shot at being good cop. Unfortunately I couldn't think of much to talk to him about other than his car. I really tried. I didn't actually mention that we'd set fire to his Tesla, only that I'd heard they caught fire a lot, but he leapt to conclusions. I pointed out that a lot of things had been on fire when we left, and things like that happened when you had a djinn in your house. That got a response, even if it was mostly him laughing at us for having missed something, and a bit more prodding from Topher got him to tell us that the djinn aren't fairies, but angels, or gods.

He did have a point in that the thing in his house had been shapeshifted but neither Topher nor me had noticed that, which is definitely out of the ordinary. We were all pretty sick of him by this point though, and Topher asked if anyone had a feather he could use to tickle Roberts' feet with.

I always have a feather.

Between the three of us, we were definitely getting to him. I suggested that the more he talked, the less annoying we would be, and that got a little more out of him - that he wanted his talisman back, and that he could heal himself with it. And that the goal had been to get both the Sibyl and us out of the way, so they could move into the endgame.

At last, darkness was approaching. We taped up Roberts' mouth again, and rolled him in a carpet, pointing out that he'd brought all of this on himself. Topher drove us to the address Celia gave us. A random middle class suburban house? It matched the picture. There had been an attempt to plant roses in the front garden. I felt a strong urge to redo it properly, but all the same, I appreciated the attempt.

Stealth was kind of pointless at this point. Either we had to drive our large, conspicuous car up to the house, or walk down the street carrying a man wrapped in a carpet, and the former seemed less likely to get people immediately calling the police. The front door was answered by DCI Myers. Obviously she wanted to call her colleagues immediately, when faced with three accused murderers, but I told her if she wanted to know what her boss had been up to, she needed to hear us out.

She understandably didn't want the smelly old carpet we'd brought with us in the house, so Topher put it, and Roberts, in the garage while Fiona and me went into the house. It was about as thoroughly middle of the road as Myers herself. I noticed the photos on the wall were all of her. Which made sense for the graduation photo, but otherwise seemed odd. I couldn't place what was bothering me though.

I thought a direct approach was our best shot at getting Myers to listen, so I came straight out with it. Her boss was in league with an evil god and was framing us for murder. And she did listen. I guess you don't make it to the head of P Division without an understanding of crime, and she noted that while there had been an abundance of DNA evidence, we didn't actually have any motive. It did look like a stitch-up, but maybe it looked a bit too much like a stitch-up? Why should she trust us? I pointed out how unlikely it was for us to have committed a crime like this. After all, we're just three people who run a pub.

Not just three people who run a pub, she countered, given Topher's strength, Fiona's magic, and my abilities which she described as 'miraculous'. But I reminded her that while what I can do might be impressive, it's not exactly murder skills. Not unless there's a rabbit you particularly don't like.

That got a smile, and then things got much weirder when her accent suddenly changed and she spoke a few words into a glass paperweight, and a few moments later, Klaus came down the stairs. Why was it, everywhere he went, he ran into us? Probably the geomantic node, Fiona suggested. Myers was wiping off her makeup. Underneath it her skin was darker, and she bore a resemblance to Klaus. "Call me Jules," she told us. So she was the third leader of Clan Kielsyn that Damian had told us about.

Turns out wolves are as bad as foxes when it comes to being drama queens, because once again it was 'oh no, Topher is half djinn, he's totally going to turn on us at any moment.' Fiona reminding them that changelings don't have to take after their parents didn't seem to carry any weight. I'd had enough of it. I told them that I trusted Topher, despite having thought that he was a dhampir until yesterday, and it's not like I exactly had a good track record with dhampirs. How much of my shameful past Klaus actually knew I don't know, but that made him laugh.

Just having Myers - Jules - won over wasn't going to be enough to get the police off our backs though. We needed some actual solid evidence of Roberts framing us, and given that we still had him tied up in the garage, it was worth trying to get a confession on record. Jules gave me her glass paperweight and assured us they'd be able to hear everything.

Roberts was a gloater, we knew that, so letting him think he was winning would probably get him to talk. Fiona, being the most convincing liar, went in with a story about someone having got to our contact. I tried to add a little extra plausibility by hanging back, looking distressed, and talking about how I couldn't go to prison. Not exactly a difficult act, given that I'd spent the last twenty-four hours or so with that thought hanging over my head.

It took a while, but he talked. And then in came Myers/Jules, and she arrested him for so many different things I lost track. She assured us that in a few hours they'd have everything sorted and we'd be free. That's when my tears stopped being an act and started flowing for real.

The others gave me some space and after a couple of hours of sleep on the floor of some unfurnished rooms in the house, Jules woke us up to let us know it was over, and we could go home. Topher drove us back to the Mitchester Arms. The police had ransacked the place, and the smell of bitter ash was everywhere, but I was home.

There was a parcel in my room, which as I hoped, contained my clothes and shoes that I'd worn to the restaurant. My only good pair of shoes, so I was glad to get them back. It also contained my phone, and a ring box. I already knew what I was going to find in the ring box but opened it up anyway to glare at the cursed thing. Except there was something else in there too.  A slip of paper.

OBSRVTRY COMPRMSD//P.-PRT=/=SOURCE//SOS DAISY!!

The observatory - and presumably the vault they'd found under it - was compromised. Percy was involved, if not responsible. And worst of all, Amelia was in trouble. I reached for my phone. Over twenty missed calls, as many text messages, and one voicemail. Well, whatever Lucien wanted it was going to have to wait. I needed a shower and to sleep in my own bed.

The next morning there was a sign on Topher's door making it clear he had no intention of waking up any time soon. That meant I'd be making my own breakfast, so I headed for the kitchen. Everything was in the wrong place after the police had been through it, but that didn't bother me too much. Putting everything back where it belonged was a nice normal mundane problem to fix. I started putting things away and was about to play the voicemail on my phone when I realised that I probably shouldn't be holding anything breakable while it was playing.

It wasn't Lucien. It was some kind of river fae asking for help with something. I picked the phone up and started looking through the texts. Nothing from Lucien. Just a lot more fae all wanting help. One of them was actually from the boggarts, saying that they didn't know that I was so nice, and they'd like me to come and visit them now I was the new fae nanny.

Fuck Firs. Fuck that slimy dickhead bastard fae.

Liminal: The Mitchester Arms, episode 5: On The Run

So there I was in the restaurant, already freaking the hell out over the thought of getting dragged back into the Council, when things actually got worse.

I could hear Sophie Booth over the police sirens outside, talking to the restaurant staff. I was about to be arrested. I was considered dangerous, and they were calling for backup. Which meant I had maybe two minutes to figure out what to do. Two minutes that could be spent negotiating a deal with fucking Percy, because let's face it, the Council are loaded and a lot of problems go away when you throw money at them, and he'd probably jump at this chance to get me exactly where he wanted me.

Except the thought of handcuffs and a police cell meant any sensible thoughts like that were being drowned out by one thing. Out. I had to get out. Right now. The room we were in had a window. Not big enough for a person, but big enough for a bird. So I smashed it open with whatever high end tableware I could get my hands on, shifted, and fled.

From above I could see more police outside the Mitchester. DS Gunne was in Fiona's face, while she was trying to grab something off him. I could see Topher slamming two police officers' heads together. I should help, I knew that, but my head was still full of handcuffs and my heart was beating so fast I felt like it was going to burst.

Then Gunne screamed, and Topher made a run for Vanessa, carrying Fiona in one arm and her chair in the other. He's a big guy but it's easy forget just how strong he actually is. They were going to escape. Except from up there I could see more police arriving. The backup Sophie had called for me. I was going to have to do something. Wind, lightning, anything. Except the sky was perfectly clear and the air almost unnaturally still.

Then it came to me, the predator instinct breaking through the blind panic. I stooped, snatched a pigeon out of the air, and slammed it into the window of one of the police cars. Vanessa took a bump as Topher turned her around, and I doubt him and Fiona fared much better inside, but then he was flooring it out of there.

I'd stopped one car, now dealing with a mass of feathers and pigeon guts, but there were others after them, and after seeing Topher narrowly evade a road block I realised there was something else I could do to help. I scanned the road for tailing vehicles, and spotted a route that would get Vanessa out of there without running into any more trouble. I figured he'd have the sense to realise a low flying falcon with peacock blue chest stripes was me, and follow my lead.

I hung back once we were clear. Topher seemed to know where he was going, and it wasn't long before Vanessa was pulling into a garage next to a pub in Hartcliffe. I flew in after them, got in the back, and put on the emergency spare clothes. Which unfortunately are some of Topher's old gym clothes, so they're several sizes too big, but it's not like I had a choice.

I didn't know this pub, but I did know the local community garden well enough for the landlord Pavel to know who I am, and Fiona knew him well enough to know he's be OK with us using his place as a bolt hole. We got a warm welcome, bratwurst, and some drink I can't pronounce that tasted like plums and burning.

Pavel offered us his living room for the night. Fiona patched herself up with more Deep Heat than I thought was possible, then finally broke the silence to tell me the one thing I didn't know: why we were on the run from P Division. It was the Sibyl. They'd been found dead, murdered, in the ruins of St Peter's in Castle Park and we were the prime suspects. Shit. And Fiona had ripped another of those talisman chains of Gunne, who was stinking of bitter ash.

Time to backtrack a little. I told them about my evening, and what the Council had hinted at finding. The vault under the Cornubia is the first thing they thought of as well. They'd spent the evening with Gus, and that had been going pretty well, right up until the point where they'd been about to swear a blood oath and Gus had acted like there was something very wrong with the smell of Topher's blood.

Fiona and me looked at Topher, who was looking almost as shifty as he did right after Celia had that vision about him. I'd always figured, super strength, healing impossibly fast, kind of shifty about running water - he was a dhampir, right? Wolves hate those. But no. He hadn't told us about his father. Changeling, Fiona concluded. Topher described how his father had appeared to him, with his head wreathed in flames.

Then I felt it. It was like icy fingers pushing into my brain, trying to push Topher's words right back out again. I'd felt it before. It was the same thing that happened with Celia's phone, when Damian's photo was being hidden from me. It was much harder to stop it this time. I could feel I was fighting against something incredibly powerful, and just holding onto that memory left me drained.

But that's when things started to come together. Everyone knows pyromancers don't exist and there are no fire-aspect fae. Except..maybe the reason we think they don't exist is because any time someone actually learns something about them, the memory gets pushed out of their brain?

We had two leads. Whatever it was the Council had found near the observatory, and the Sibyl themself. If Fiona could get them to talk, we could probably learn a lot about what was going on. Trouble was, Fiona relies a lot on her magical tools for summoning the dead, all of which were at the Mitchester. Which meant for to her have a reasonable chance of contacting the Sibyl's ghost, given that we don't know their full name either, we'd need to be at the site of the murder, or with the body.

There was absolutely no way I was going to be able to go anywhere near the police station in my current state, which as far as I was concerned ruled out the morgue. So it was going to have to be Castle Park and an active crime scene. Shift change at 8am would be our best shot, but even so it was going to be a challenge. At least we had time for some sleep before that. Fiona set an alarm for 6am and we all drifted off to sleep.

Except we all woke up again at 5.30am when Fiona was jolted awake by her alarm wards going off. She'd taken something out of that vault at the Cornubia and someone - probably someone from P Division - had just found it. And from Fiona's expression, that someone was likely in extreme danger.

We got back in Vanessa and drove to Castle Park. There wasn't a big police presence, but it was enough that we certainly weren't going to be walking in without attracting far too much attention. The three of us were rather physically distinctive, after all. We were going to need a distraction. Topher suggested getting their attention and getting them to chase him, but I had another idea.

By then I didn't have it in me to mess with the weather, or even take wing, but one thing about being a shapeshifter is you have to get very cool very quickly about the fact some of your close friends are going to see you naked. So it was only moderately embarrassing to leave my borrowed gym clothes with the others and streak past the police officers. I swear I could almost hear the Benny Hill music as I sprinted through the park. By the time I got back, disguised in a borrowed coat, there were several more naked people running around the park. Enough to keep the police occupied for a while. I could feel the run had done me good as we raced into the church.

The place had been desecrated. Hairline cracks in the altar, charred streaks on the walls, and every trace of plant life scoured from the cracks in the floor. It stank of burning. Fiona called on the Sibyl, and asked who killed them. They said it was us - or rather something that wore our faces. A prince of the seven, the lord of a thousand faces, Maymun. A djinn.

How could we prove our innocence? The djinn was backed by an oathbreaker. Malcolm Roberts. We all knew that name. One of the people on the pub licensing committee. DSI Roberts.

Fiona had one more question. Djinns aren't British fae. What was this one doing so far from its native lands? They come where they are bound, to serve their sovereign.

That was a whole other question in itself, but right then we had to get out of there before the police got back. I got back into my clothes, and dropped the borrowed coat on the edge of the park where its owner could find it. Then it was back into Vanessa. Fiona called a contact at the hospital to check on Gunne, but it seemed he was still unconscious. That talisman had burned him badly.

We needed to find DSI Roberts, and P Division weren't going to be any use at this point. Clan Kielsyn had gone off us a bit after getting a sniff of Topher, it seemed. We were running out of places to turn. Except that nasty little shithead of a fae, Firs, still owed me one. The coin he'd given me...well I knew damn well I'd left it in a drawer at the Mitchester, not in Topher's old sweatpants, but here it was. I didn't know how I was supposed to use it, so I just let loose with every insult for the slimy bastard I could think of, until we rounded a corner and there he was at the side of the road.

He got in the back, insulted my clothes and suggested I needed some lipstick, but he did know where to find Roberts. Except he wanted something else in return, and while normally I'd take time to argue a better deal rather than give him anything, time wasn't on our side. What he wanted was my phone number. I didn't like the idea of him phoning me, but at least for the moment my phone wasn't on me. I gave him the number and he scratched it onto his arm. It wasn't for him, he said. And I had a horrible feeling I knew exactly was making deals with Firs to get hold of my number. Lucien.

We had bigger things to deal with right then though. Firs gave us the address and left the car. We drove to a much swankier part of the city and a house that looked far too expensive even for a DSI's salary, with a Tesla parked outside. While Fiona and me wondered about the best way to get inside, Topher went straight up to the front door and knocked.

A small Filipina woman in a cleaning overall opened the door, and once Topher made it clear he was going in whether she liked it or not, let us all in. The house was unsettling. It was too dark, with too much shadow in between the vases of withered flowers.

We found Roberts at his desk, lounging with a glass of whisky in one hand and the other down his trousers. He turned to face us as we approached, asking if we were going to threaten to break his knees. Fiona asked him about being an oathbreaker. He didn't have much to say. Topher brought up the subject of that nice car he had outside, and I pointed out how those things catch fire really easily. But it was Fiona who finally managed to get a rise out of him, even if it did mostly just seem to wind him up. He pulled out yet another talisman, but all the same, he winced when Fiona mentioned Maymun. He got the point about her being a necromancer, but pointed out that ghosts don't count as witness. He told us they'd infiltrated every possible level, and there was no magic that could stop him testifying that he'd seen us leaving the scene of the crime. Because it was the truth.

The cleaner knocked on the door. Roberts told her to come back tomorrow. Then the door opened, and in the doorway was no cleaner but a creature with its head wreathed in flames. It opened its mouth and a jet of flame shot across the room.

Even as I could feel my skin burning, I was reflexively shifting. If my opponent had been human, I would have blinded it, the way my talons raked through its face. Topher picked up Roberts and threw him at the djinn. He missed, but at least Roberts was out of action for a bit. Fiona was sure that despite its supernatural powers, it wasn't going to be much tougher than a human, but I couldn't pay too much attention to that as I was dropping out of its grasp as it reached up to grab me, and going for its chest. All I got was a beak full of ash, but Topher's punch landed, and the creature somehow dissolved into ash.

We needed some serious words with the now seriously injured Roberts, but we certainly weren't going to be staying at his house any longer. We all bundled into Vanessa. A plume of smoke was already coming from the house as we left.

Oh, and we set fire to the Tesla on the way out. Just, you know, on principle.

Liminal: The Mitchester Arms, episode 4: Who is Nigel?

I woke up at 9am when the alarm I'd been unkind enough to set for myself went off. I dragged myself out of bed, threw some clothes on, and remembered Celia.

Celia was fine. Awake and dressed. She'd had a text from Gus to tell her Damian was at Southmead Hospital. I assured her I hadn't given him her number. Then she had a momentary vision. She saw me with stag horns on my head. I don't know what it means but I've got a bad feeling it's tied to that coin Firs gave me somehow.

I walked Celia to the door, talking music on the way, then went to make breakfast for the others. Which I wouldn't normally do, but Fiona was in no condition to be doing it and Topher was too busy helping her out. Over scrambled eggs and tea we made our plan. Of the names the Sibyl had given us, only one was familiar. What's more, we knew exactly where he was, and he was probably feeling positive about us right now given that we'd just saved his life.

We got in Vanessa the Land Rover and Topher drove us to Southmead accompanied by Portishead. For such an interesting guy he sure has a boring CD collection. I could barely keep my eyes open. Damian was in ICU but he was awake and had Celia sitting with him. He was still putting on that fake Jamaican accent that's not fooling any of us, even in his current state, and was pretty happy to see us. Happy enough to answer our questions about Nigel, anyway. Nigel is a massive bellend, and also his dad. And he's a big man in the Mercury Collegium. He operates out of a pub called the Chelsea and has a Glaswegian attack dog called Colin.

He had less to say on the name Klaus, but at least he could tell us that he was Damian's sponsor in the Clan. It was obvious he needed some rest, so we went on our way. Our next move was going to have to be talking to either Klaus or Nigel, and right now the werewolves we'd just helped out seemed like a better bet than the Mercury Collegium. Topher gave Gus a called and arranged a meeting for Sunday Lunch at the Mitchester.

It rapidly became apparent that the Bristol traffic was not going to allow us to get back in time to get the lunch service going. And Vanessa's pretty roomy but I could feel myself getting increasingly antsy, stuck in the car in what felt like an endless traffic jam. In the end I couldn't take it any longer. I opened up the sunroof, shifted, and launched myself into the air, leaving a pile of clothes and a brief burst of ozone and daisies. With hindsight I should probably have warned the others first.

I had some pretty standard beef and turkey laid on for lunch service but we were about to have special guests so I decided to pick something up on the way back. There are pheasants in the city if you know where to look, and I soon had an alternate menu option to take home. I tapped on the window to alert Cassie when I got back - I swear that girl still thinks I have an unusually smart pet falcon - and she let me in.

The others arrived half an hour after we started serving, moments before Gus and Klaus, by which time I'd eaten the parts of the pheasant not considered fit for table and reverted to human form. Cassie called in the request for the chef's special, telling me one of the customers was really good looking. After getting a look at Klaus, whose gait was the only thing about him that didn't scream accountant, I really hoped she was talking about Gus.

The werewolves were pretty cagey about everything. According to them, Damian had been taken into the clan on his own merits and had proved himself. I asked about Nigel, but they denied any knowledge of that name. As they went on their way, Fiona assured us they were lying, but we weren't going to be able to get any more out of them without something to offer.

Then my phone went. Amelia. She'd set up a meeting for 7pm in a nearby tapas restaurant. Hardly ideal since we were still on a time limit for solving this problem for the Sibyl, but high end restaurant reservations aren't the kind of thing that can easily be changed and we needed this information.

With no further leads it was obvious we were going to have to talk to Nigel. Topher was concerned his showing up while Colin was around was likely to start a fight, but the alternative was me and Fiona going in on our own, and while I can look after myself, I can't look after Fiona too. We wanted him with us, and we wanted him armed.

It was obvious from the outside what kind of pub the Chelsea was. People sitting around with poorly concealed weapons, the stench of weed, the kind of cracked windows you get from people being thrown at them, and nitrous oxide canisters littering the ground. We parked nearby, not wanting to put Vanessa in the car park, and headed for the door. We were intercepted by what I assume was the landlady. She obviously didn't like the look of us, and told us to get in our Chelsea tractor and go home.

We asked about Nigel, but once again we were stonewalled. Topher brought up Colin without much effect. She told us to leave again and we could see weapons were being drawn. So it was going to have to be a show of power, and my power is the weather. I called the wind into a swirling vortex around us, picking up litter, nitrous canisters and bullet casings. How dare she talk about Vanessa like that? Fiona reached into it and picked out a bullet casing, getting stares from some of those around. Stares, and weapons sheathed. It seemed we'd made our point.

The pub was nasty. A grimy little place with one of those squishy carpets that have had far too much beer spilt and never cleaned up. Nigel was seated at the back, behind a bead curtain. He bore enough resemblance to Damian that we knew we had the right person. On with the show of strength. He demanded Topher and me sit down. We looked to Fiona for instructions, making it clear she was in charge. She stood her ground and we stayed standing. Again we'd made our point.

Then he did something none of us expected. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a snap of his fingers. And the air was suddenly full of the smell of bitter ash.

I would have liked to ask him how exactly he learned how to do that, but I was on a time limit, so went straight for the obvious. What was going on involving Klaus and his boy? Nigel's response confirmed Damian's description of him as a bellend. Seems he's one of those parents who don't believe in kindness. No wonder Damian wanted nothing to do with his dad, or his business.

I was starting to hope we might get somewhere when Colin walked in, threw a folder on the table, and immediately abandoned what he was saying to get in Topher's face. Fiona took the opportunity to ask Nigel why the bitter ash smell had shown up somewhere associated with his son, which I think actually surprised him. For a moment I thought I was about to have to do a runner with Fiona, but holy shit, Topher actually challenged Colin to a game of darts, and in the resulting confusion I managed to get a look at that folder.

There were photos inside. One was that vault underneath the Cornubia, and from the state of it, it was definitely after we'd made our visit. The other was the Mitchester Arms, with an arrow drawn on pointing at Fiona's window.

We didn't stick around much longer. Back in Vanessa, Topher told us Colin was wearing a silver chain that didn't look like the kind of jewellery a man like that would want to be seen wearing. I knew what it was. A talisman. Similar to one Fiona had seen DS Gunne with, it turned out. With Gunne apparently too sick to take a call, she called one of his people, who said it was from some stuff belonging to DCI Choudhury, Myers' predecessor.

Then Topher spotted we were being followed. Some old Ford. Vanessa can shift when we want her to, and Topher shook them off. But why would anyone follow us? Everyone knows where we live. Especially people with photos showing Fiona's bedroom.

I was going to have to hustle if I was going to make my dinner date, and the others were going to have to get back to Clan Kielsyn for a trade of information if we were going to get the Sibyl's job done in time. So I got dropped off near the Mitchester and went to get ready. I don't have much in the way of clothes suitable for anything fancier than my own kitchen, but I've got one decent pair of shoes and a nice dress from Primark. Along with some makeup and tidying up my hair I felt I looked quite respectable.

Or at least, I did until I got to the door of the restaurant and remembered that places with Michelin stars are on a whole different level. I guess the fact I had sunglasses on probably didn't help, but it's either that or go flashing my freak eyes to the normies and I felt out of place enough already. Fortunately the staff were expecting me.

I saw Amelia first. Straight away I took in the designer dress and the red soled shoes. It took a moment longer to spot her earrings. Silver studs, mostly hidden by her hair. The ones I gave her when we were still sixth-formers. God I miss her.

And then there he was. Percival Fitz-Percy. Fucking Percy. That place pretty much trained the swearing out of us, but that one stuck. He wanted me to take the sunglasses off but I refused. He had to know why I hide my eyes but still. No reason he needed the specifics.

He got straight down to business, calling me his biggest failure. Yes, I'd heard it all before. So much promise. So much potential. Amelia pushed a ring box across the table to me. I tried to make a joke about how this didn't seem like the right time for a proposal, but my heart wasn't in it. It was a ring, of course. A Council of Merlin signet ring, just like the ones they were both wearing. He didn't have to say a word but he said it anyway. He wanted me to take it, become an associate member of the Council, and started digging up my so-called arcane lineage. So he could stitch me up with some kind of noble heritage and have me inherit land and money and shit.

How dare he? The absolute bastard, trying to lure me in with money, like I'd have given up my college scholarship to go and work in a pub if it had been about money. Because if they'd actually given a shit about my so-called lost noble heritage they'd have done something for my parents instead of doing nothing until my talent manifested.

But I needed info. So I was going to have to at least take the ring box and think about it for a while. And he'd listened to Amelia over the bitter ash smell. He agreed it sounded fae, and took the opportunity to remind me of a few things I already knew from classes, like boggarts being associated with earth and larceny. Honestly, being reminded of those cute little dickheads was probably the best part of the evening. But fire had never come up, and of course there are no real pyromancers despite what some people would like to claim.

I was starting to wonder if he was just going to tell me things I already knew, but then he started talking about something else. Something they'd found near the observatory. Amelia said that it was beautiful, and I needed to see if for myself. I thought of the vault under the Cornubia. Could there be more than one? And it sounded like I could get all the answers there, but of course I couldn't be allowed to visit, or even be told any more about it. Because I wasn't a member of the Council.

I said I needed time to think about it. I needed to know more but the thought of getting back in their gilded cage was making me feel sick. I was glad of my sunglasses because I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, and all I was actually thinking about was how I hoped Fiona and Topher were back at the Mitchester because if I was going to cry in front of someone I wanted it to be them and not Amelia and especially not fucking Percy.

Then his phone went. He looked at it, showed it to Amelia, and both of them went white. Then I heard the police sirens outside.

Liminal: The Mitchester Arms, episode 3: Visions

Back at the bus stop I took the time to check my phone. I'd delivered the best bread and honey the Co-op could provide into the fairy ring, and now there was a message with a thumbs-up and an extreme close up of a boggart's face. How they did that without a phone of their own I don't know. Probably best not to think about it.

There were a few messages on the Whatsapp group, most importantly Topher confirming that he hadn't been eaten by werewolves, although in slightly more guarded language. I've told them they don't need to worry what they say in the Mitchester Arms RPG Club group chat, but I guess we're all still getting used to that. Fiona had a lead on what was going on with the licensing situation, so I let them know I'd dealt with the fairy ring problem and would join them there.

There turned out to be Holly Court, one of those hideous brutalist flatblocks that seem to have grown on this city like a rash. I was the last to arrive, and explained that I'd made a deal with three boggarts. They were sceptical, but appreciated that it was a better option than unleashing a rawhead on the city.

Inside, Fiona headed for the lift. I looked at how cramped it was, especially with Topher and Fiona already inside, and decided to take the stairs. I arrived out of breath, just in time for Fiona to fail to get the lock open. I took over, and next thing I knew the pick had snapped. Of course Topher managed to punch it open with damn near surgical precision. Not that I was complaining.

I don't know what Fiona was expecting to find in this flat, but none of us were expecting nothing. The place was completely cleaned out. Except it wasn't completely empty. There was a lingering scent of bitter ash. The same thing I could smell when visiting the boggarts. Shit.

I was reluctant to believe there was absolutely nothing left here so went for a more thorough look around. Behind a curtain there was a far more mundane ash smell. Picking through the burned fragments in an ashtray I found a photo. East Asian woman, maybe Chinese. A note on the back called her a target and an easy mark. Fiona recognised the picture. Lin Xia, a city council clerk. Seems someone used her to cause our licensing problems. Fiona took the photo to give to DS Gunne as evidence. Strange it was still here though. Careless. That didn't fit with everything else we'd seen here.

We were just about to leave when we heard the door swing open and some kid walked in. I say kid. Didn't take long to clock a fledgling vamp, especially when he clearly wanted us to know. He called himself Steve and said we were on his turf. Thank god for Fiona's ability to bullshit her way out of damn near anything. There was some talk of him doing a better job with his sigils in future and we made another attempt to leave.

Except as I was following the others out, Steve said he recognised me, and that's not a good thing coming from a vampire. I hung back a bit and suggested maybe he'd seen me in the pub, but no. It was as bad as I feared. Lucien. I stopped entirely. Not smart, but at that moment being alone with a fledgling vampire sounded better than having to explain to the others about Lucien. Apparently he still talked about me as 'the one that got away'. And Steve was reminding me that while he was only a fledgling he was still a predator, and it was all I could do to remind myself that so am I. I might have left a little faster than was entirely dignified.

Fortunately there was plenty to distract me back at the pub. Cassie was looking frazzled and the agency staff we'd got for the day weren't inspiring much confidence. Plus there was the impending meeting with Clan Kielsyn that Topher had set up. What really worried me though was that bitter ash smell. It felt like fairy magic, but no kind of fae that either Fiona or I had ever heard of. I needed help, and who better than an actual associate member of the Council of Merlin?

Amelia answered the phone pretty quick, and it did feel good to hear her voice again. Asking for help didn't feel so good. She agreed, but of course it came with a price. And the price was having dinner with possibly the only person on Earth I like even less than Firs or Lucien. My old Dee College tutor, Percival Fitz-Percy.

I was thinking of checking what kind of mess the tweaker that the agency had apparently mistaken for a chef was making of my kitchen when I heard screams from downstairs. Seems Celia had been attempting some divination and it had gone...not well. Topher said she'd had frost coming out of her mouth, which certainly explained why he'd thought it was a good idea to throw a kettle of boiling water over her. Fiona was applying first aid, so all I really saw was the triskele she'd drawn on the floor. Apart from where the water had washed it away, it was identical to the one on the coin Firs gave me.

There was nothing else we could do for her at this point, and we couldn't miss our appointment with Clan Kielsyn. So I packed my trowel, and a surprisingly charming guy called Gus picked us up in some fancy car and took us to the Cornubia. A hole underneath a pub wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting - but then, what had I been expecting? It was a challenge getting Fiona and her chair down there and I suspect it hurt more than she was letting on. But it was worth it.

The room was beautiful. It had everything. Vaulted ceilings, carved walls, designs picked out in gold and gems showing a mix of native wildlife and pretty much any occult symbol I could think of. But the important thing was the three people covered in frost, floating above an empty pool in the middle of the room. Even under the frost I could see one of them was Damian.

After some careful examination we had a fair idea what we were looking at. A ward, and a big one too. If we were going to get those people out, we were going to have to destroy it, and that probably meant destroying this room with it. Which I'd do in a heartbeat, but I wasn't so sure about Gus. I guess I shouldn't have underestimated pack mentality.

It took all three of us plus Gus to do it once we'd got everyone else clear. At least if this all went wrong there'd be none of us left to blame. As we hit the four corners, the carvings melted and flowed onto the floor. I kept my eyes on Damian, and saw him and the others sink slowly to the ground as the frost retreated. They were obviously in need of urgent medical attention and Gus and Topher carried two of them to the ladder. I'm not that quite that strong but found it in me to drag the third all the same.

Gus was pretty hard to read when we got out ourselves, but he gave Fiona and me business cards which seemed to be some kind of token of respect and took us back to the Mitchester. Poor Cassie. We're definitely not going to use that agency again. And if that wasn't bad enough, we all spotted a familiar pair of six inch Louboutin heels. Fiona knows how to handle Carolina Fortunato though, whether she's acting on behalf of the Mayor or the Sodality.

My kitchen was a wreck, but before I could get started on fixing that I had to check on Celia. Seems Topher felt the same. We'd put her to bed in a spare room, but she was awake now and looking much better. And we had good news for her. We'd found Damian and he was going to be OK. She started tearing up at that, so I hugged her, and then the floodgates opened.

She'd just about managed to calm down and start asking why we were looking so gloomy when we'd just saved someone's life when suddenly she dropped the mug of cocoa she'd been holding, threw back her head, and started speaking in a voice I didn't recognise.

"A figure made from fire, ash and smoke laid in repose on a black stone table with a broken crown at its head. Flowers of pink, blue and yellow sprouted from its body and were burnt away only for new blossoms to erupt from under its skin."

Then she was back with us, and in her own voice asked Topher why she'd just seen him burning.

She was clearly exhausted, and we left her to sleep, but Topher was acting shifty. I knew what the flowers meant. Discipline, self-control, honour and bravery. Was that how Topher saw himself? He didn't seem sure about the brave part. And he was definitely hiding something. Celia's vision had clearly shaken him up, and it seemed to be something personal. But he obviously didn't want to talk, and I had a kitchen to clean. We could discuss it in the morning.

I was thinking it might be nice to get up a bit early and take wing for a while, but at something like half three in the morning I was woken up by someone hammering on the door. I legged it downstairs and found the most nondescript man I've ever seen demanding Topher tell him how many of us were here. Then he called over someone I never expected to see at the Mitchester. The Avonian Sibyl.

We did all the right stuff, inviting them in, offering hospitality. Turns out the Sibyl likes draught beer and pork scratchings. Mr Average turned out to be not quite so average in the teeth department. At least he turned down the offer. That could have been nasty.

The Sibyl had a request for us. "The clan found Damian’s odour too strong for their delicate noses, yet took him in anyway. It was only when Nigel’s name came up that paranoid Klaus relented and called him brother. Why?" We had twenty-four hours to get them an answer. We could hardly refuse. I watched the Sibyl go. I'd never seen anyone quite so powerful before. So why did they look melancholy and defeated?

Liminal: The Mitchester Arms, episode 2: Magic Mushrooms

Friday night, April 2023. Busy night at the Mitchester Arms. Business as usual - except there's no such thing as business as usual, is there? I'd had a long day prepping food so that everything would run smoothly in the kitchen. Rabbit pie, or mushroom pie for those too squeamish or too vegetarian for rabbit, and chips. Can't go wrong with chips. Celia was in the bar playing up a storm - not literally, I should say - and people were up and dancing. I completely lost track of Topher and Fiona although I assume they were doing their usual thing. I saved them dinner though. It was a cold night and Topher had to be freezing out there.

I shut the kitchen at ten as usual and started the clean down. Not too arduous with tonight's offerings and by half past I was done. I'd just put together a tray for the others and was about to take it out to them when I heard a noise at the other sound of the door. It took me a moment to place it, but then I realised it was someone crying.

You know that thing where you think someone is just a casual friend, someone you'd smile at if you saw them on the street but otherwise wouldn't really go out of your way for, but then something happens and you realise that person matters a lot more than you thought? Well, maybe you don't, but anyway, that's what happened when I opened the door and saw Celia in tears.

I brought her into the kitchen, got her a cup of tea and asked what was up. Boy trouble, of course, but not what I expected. Her guy Damian was missing and has been for several days. Obviously she'd told the police, and with Damian working for Clan Kielsyn you'd think P-Division would have taken an interest, but they'd told her that he wasn't missing, even though they didn't seem to have any idea where he actually was, and their last message was basically telling her to fuck off and that they had no records of Damian even existing..

I could see where this was heading, but at the same time this was seriously weird. On top of everything else, Celia's a diviner. She doesn't lose things. But I didn't have time to think about that because Celia got her phone out to show me her photos of Damian, turned white as a sheet, and dropped the phone.

I fumbled the catch but still got a look at the lock screen. Celia's definitely the type to have a photo of her boyfriend on her lock screen. Except it was actually a photo of Celia, which seemed a bit odd until I started to realise there was something deeply wrong with this picture. It was obviously a selfie, but Celia's hands were both in the picture and the angles seemed wrong. Then I felt it. Magic.

Normally the Sight is literally that - sight - but this time it came to me as a kind of pressure in my head trying to make me not See. I'm not even sure what I did to get past it and I felt drained afterwards, but Damian was back in the photo.

I told Celia we'd try to find Damian, without making any specific promises, and after some emotional hugging we went to find Fiona. It was agreed. We'd take the case in exchange for a favour. All the same I was worried. Glamours can be pretty powerful but to do one like that that's affecting memories as well as vision? That's some serious magic. Fiona asked for Damian's full name, and I'm glad Celia was looking at her and not at me, because I know what Fiona is thinking when she asks that question.

Turns out the others had had an eventful evening as well. That creepy bastard Firs had shown up to ask Topher to look into some surprise fairy rings at the rugby club. And DS Frank Gunne had dropped by to give some Fiona some info on why the pub's licensing was up for review way too early.

We closed up at 2am as usual and sent Celia home in a taxi. No way any of us were letting her cycle home alone at that time of night. I headed to the attic and bolted my flight window. Not long afterwards I started to sense Fiona's wards settling across the building. They feel quite comforting, but at the same time, the fact she felt the need to set them wasn't reassuring.

Next morning over breakfast, Fiona reported on her nocturnal activities. She'd tried to call up Damian's spirit and failed. That either meant he was still alive, or was in more trouble than we could possibly imagine. Other than that, all we had to go on was what Celia had told us. The last time she saw him, he'd got a text at 11pm telling him to go to the barracks because he was due on the night shift.

This case was starting to look like it was going to involve at some point walking into a werewolf gang hideout, and while I'm not entirely without defences, I felt like Topher might be a better choice to chase that one down. I was feeling more confident about dealing with the rugby club situation. I just had to tell myself I wasn't doing it for Firs, I was doing it for Topher.

I took the bus to the rugby club. With all of us going different ways, it didn't seem fair to take the only car when I've got other transport options in a pinch. I regretted that later, but it was the right choice at the time. I attracted the attention of a couple of kids on the bus. Just a hint of magic about them and it looked like they'd picked up the same about me. I saw one of them change his eyes, just for a moment. Maybe not the smartest thing I've done but I couldn't resist lowering my sunglasses to let them see my eyes. I got the reaction I wanted. Then they started talking about how I was really old, in my thirties at least, and then the bus stopped and they got off before I could give the cheeky little sods a piece of my mind. Old! I'm only twenty-five!

Having spent much of the journey otherwise occupied, I didn't really have a good story prepared for when I got to the rugby club, so I decided to keep it simple. Introduce myself as an expert on the problems they'd been having with the pitch. Which is true, after all. Except I couldn't find the groundskeeper when I got there and ended up attempting to explain myself to the junior coach who seemed to think there was nothing wrong with the pitch. And to be fair, when I looked outside, it looked fine. I managed to keep up the act until he had to go and take a phone call, and then went out to see the pitch.

Close up it was clear things were not what they seemed from a distance. Topher said the problem was with fairy rings and damaged turf. Things looked OK because they'd removed the fruiting bodies of the mushrooms and covered the bare patches with turf. I got my fingers into the dirt to see what I could feel.

Damp earth. Warm bodies. Safety and comfort. Except there was something else. Something sweet and sickly and decaying underneath. What was that about? There was the familiar shimmer in the air that told me a fairy portal had been opened there. It felt like reality had been bruised. I didn't know what the key to open it was, and I really hoped it wasn't people playing rugby.

I took a step back to look at the wider picture. Rings, not ring. I found the others at the four corners of the pitch, then located the centre point. Nothing there at the moment, but a suitable offering might do the job. First I stopped off to talk to the coach again with a fragment of fungus to wave at him. He was on the phone with some parent by the sounds of it. I've never heard a man so happy to hear the pitch was unusable due to a major fungal infection.

I went to the Co-op for freshly baked bread and non-adulterated honey, and took it back to the pitch. I made a suitable offering in the centre, and the portal shimmered into existence. I exchanged a few words with those on the other side, establishing that they didn't seem hostile. All the same, I requested safe passage both in and out of the portal. With that established, I stepped through.

OK, here's a secret. I love boggarts. The young ones, anyway. The older ones are scary fuckers and I have as little to do with them as possible. But these three little guys? Adorable. I love their funny little faces and their tiny horns and spindly arms and inability to grasp the concept of property ownership. There are much worse things to find on the other side of a fairy portal.

The best way to get anything out of a young boggart is often just let them talk until they end up telling you what you want to know. It wasn't long before talk of the pitch turned to talk of bones. That's what they thought I was there about. Stolen bones from under the pitch. Talk of bones led to talk of how they were going to make a doggy. A doggy made of bones sounded like bad news. Like a rawhead, in fact, and the last thing we need is one of them rampaging through the city.

Why would boggarts want to make a rawhead though? Or even know how, for that matter. They said it was because their burrow was too hot. Why they thought this would be more helpful that, say, a fan, was unclear. But then I caught a scent in the air. Bitter ash. Nothing good smells like that. And that's when I realised the boggarts were terrified.

I couldn't let them continue stealing bones - or messing up the rugby pitch, for that matter - and honestly I felt sorry for them. So I made a deal. I'd find them a new burrow to stay in while we dealt with the heat problem, and they'd put the bones back. Put them back before or after, they asked. Before, I told them, and offered to sweeten the deal with more bread and honey. One disgusting spit-covered handshake later, the deal was made.

Now I had to actually make good. Out of the portal I pulled up a map on my phone. It had to be somewhere with plenty of wildlife and ideally some caves, if the boggarts were going to agree to move in. Troopers Hill fitted the bill, but it was quite a way away. Too far to realistically walk, and however we got there we were going to need disguises. Some children's raincoats from the changing rooms did the job, and I called for a taxi. No way was I getting on a bus with three boggarts. This way only one person had to be exposed to them.

Dealing with boggarts is a strange mixture of frustration and charm. Sure, it's frustrating when they get into a taxi and instead of sitting on the seats they sit one on top of the other on the floor. And that string through the ears trick really isn't appropriate in front of normal humans. But it's hard to be too annoyed with them, even if I did have to stop them pulling the driver's hair. I asked him to play some bhangra so that he wouldn't hear any weird noises from the back, and it's lucky I did because it took quite some time and a reminder of the offer of bread and honey to get them to spit out all his CDs.

Finally we made it. I took them up the hill, and once I'd convinced them to go for the natural slopes rather than the nearby allotment, they pulled up another fairy ring and started getting settled in. I left them to it and went in search of more bread and honey.

Who should I meet in the local shop but that bastard Firs? At least he was in a good mood. I'd handled things to his liking, without anyone getting hurt. He gave me the offered reward of a token in the form of a large silver coin. Or rather, he held it out and dropped it on the floor, and while I was picking it up, remarked on the white roses I'd planted and how much of an improvement he thought he'd made. Absolute filthy bastard fae scum. But he was gone, and I had the coin. It was bigger than any standard coin and had a triskele on one side and a crowned head in profile on the other. I had some suspicions about it, if nothing solid as yet. And I had a lot of questions that need answering about what was making the boggart burrow so hot. But at least I could tell Topher the problem was solved and get back to the question of what happened to Damian.

Liminal: The Mitchester Arms, episode 1: Meet Flora

We've just started a new Liminal campaign, and so far have done character and crew creation. We're the staff (landlady, bouncer and chef) of a waterfront pub in Bristol which we have of course named the Mitchester Arms because why wouldn't you?  Here's my character, Flora Perry.

It all started when I was at 6th form college and started seeing things.  The kind of things that first made me think I'd been drugged and then that I had some illness that was making me hallucinate.  I was terrified.  Fortunately I had someone I could confide in: Emily, my best friend from the day we both arrived at college.  She told me that I didn't have to be afraid, because she could see them too.

So that's how I ended up joining her at Dee College on a scholarship.  Turns out I have a natural aptitude for magic.  My parents hadn't a clue what it was all about - they were just proud that I was going to university.  I hated it there though.  Learning magic was fine, but having to do it in a dusty old college surrounded by a bunch of rich arseholes was horrible.

I tried to stick it out for Emily's sake, but the last straw was when I found out my tutor was preparing to have us both made employees of the Council of Merlin.  That's when I decided I'd had enough and got out of there.  I still had my NVQ and commercial kitchens had never seemed more appealing.

I don't talk about those first few months in Bristol.  Let's just say I made some bad choices involving a dhampir, and it took me a while to realise I needed to get out of there as much as I needed out of Dee College.  I just hope I never run into Lucien Black - if that's even his real name - ever again.  There are things my new friends don't need to know.

After that I threw myself into learning magic again.  I'd seen peregrine falcons while out hiking and dreamed of flying.  There's nothing I'm more proud of than figuring out how to shapeshift on my own.  Although it turns out magic comes with a price.  Sometimes it's years of tedious study.  Sometimes it's embarrassing moments when the predator instinct kicks in, and eyes that never change back.

I finally got a job at the Mitchester Arms, which means I now live in an attic room with a convenient window.  It's not much but I've cheered it up with some rugs and a drum that I'm learning to play.  I've also picked up some bronze plated gardening tools.  Decorative and practical.

My one big regret is that I lost touch with Emily.  She's showed up again recently, fully fledged associate member of the Council of Merlin, keen to bring me back in for some reason.  She's changed her name to Amelia Fitz-Henry, and wouldn't be caught dead in the Mitchester Arms, so we've been meeting up in places that fit her new social station.  And it feels silly, but I really want her to take me seriously.  Just so long as I don't get pulled back in to the Council.  I'm done with living in cages.

ConDensed 2022

I had a packed convention schedule planned for autumn 2022.  The Owlbear and Wizard's Staff in September, then a three-weekend run in October starting with Furnace...

Two days after Furnace I tested positive for covid.

I had to cancel my attendance at the following two events, and significantly scale back my participation in the online A Weekend With Good Friends.  By the time ConDensed rolled around again though, I was...well, still fairly ill, but well enough to run the two games I'd pitched and do a bit of setting up stuff, even if I was significantly less useful than I was last year.  If the venue wasn't conveniently less than ten minutes' drive from my house I'd probably have cancelled, but being able to go home and have a rest whenever I felt like it made everything easier.

Game 1: Abyss

If there's one thing I can be sure of at a convention it's that a game with James Mullen is worth a look.  In this case it was a game of supernatural action horror in which we would be a team of unique individuals with diverse powers fighting to protect the world from the supernatural.  Which sounded right up my street.

I picked up Paige Turner, a monster hunting librarian, who was joined by an immortal, an amazon, and an ogre.  We were dispatched to investigate a series of disappearances in a library, which turned out to have a lot more occult wossnames going on than it initially appeared.  We eventually located the culprit and defeated it, taking a brief detour via a dimension of things which didn't exist, but got home by realising that a portal back to our own world was firmly in the category of things that didn't exist so we just had to find it and step through.

It was an absolute blast, and definitely something I'd play again.  The book looked great too, with very distinctive red and black artwork.  One to look out for in future.

Game 2: Dungeon Crawl Classics

I hadn't signed up for anything on Saturday morning, but I figured I had time for a good long rest between then and the evening so I showed up to see what was on offer.  DCC at conventions tends to be funnels, which I've tried and don't particularly like, but this time someone was running a levelled game and that I was definitely up for.

I was the last to arrive at the table, being a last minute addition, and nobody had picked a thief character yet so I took that one.  As usual the challenge of thinking of a name presented itself, and the GM didn't think my choice of Alice was particularly fantasy themed - but if you're going to give me a character with an occupation of 'Cooper'...

So the four of us set off to participate in the biannual kobold cull, by whatever method we chose.  Alice initially demonstrated absolute incompetance, but fortunately Harold the cleric was rather more effective and we all survived the first encounter.  Things picked up after that though, and by the time we got to the kobold caves Alice actually managed to be useful.  Then a small child, who the entire party was already convinced was some kind of ancient wizard in disguise, disrupted our attempt at diplomacy with a magic missile.  At which point Alice pushed her off a cliff.  The magic ring and book of incantations we looted from her corpse in no way conflicted with our disguised wizard theory.

I'd like to see more levelled DCC at conventions.  It's a great game and there's so much more to it than funnels.

Game 3: Kult

After an afternoon spent resting, I was ready to run A Walk In The Park, my newest Kult scenario.  With so much depending on inter-character relationships, I was worried about numbers, but I had the four players that I wanted and I was ready to provide a suitably horrible time.

I'd prepared some handouts for this adventure.  The premise is that the characters are on a challenge hike, and have to find geocaches along the way with logbooks to record their arrival time and other items.  Being able to hand the prepared sandwich boxes to the players each time they reached a set point added an extra dimension which I thoroughly enjoyed and it looked like the players were having fun with them as well.

There's always an element of unpredictability in this scenario, largely because each character's backstory has a question for the player to answer themselves.  Sometimes those are just details for the player to know, but frequently they get worked into the scenario in new and exciting ways.  It's things like that that make Kult such a joy to run.

Game 4: Liminal

There was no way I could attend a convention at Billing Aquadrome and not run Sins of the Father, my Liminal scenario that begins with a body being found in the river at Billing Aquadrome.

I had the most efficient team of characters ever this time, bringing the adventure in at half an hour quicker than the previous offline group.  Part of that was the player who picked up the face character really knowing how to face.  That gave me an extra challenge in the form of spotlight management.  Not my best skill as a GM, as I tend more towards a 'throw the PCs into the scenario and let them sort it out' kind of approach, so I was having to put a lot of effort into making sure everyone got involved.  I don't think I entirely succeeded, and can certainly see things I could have done better.  At the same time, I did do a better job of it than I have on previous occasions, and under more difficult circumstances too.  There's room for improvement but I am improving.

Post-game

And that was that.  Finishing early wasn't entirely a bad thing, as for some reason the venue had decided we all had to be out by 6pm, despite the fact that there was still one more game slot in the evening and many people were staying on site until Monday.  Fortunately the nearby pub/carvery had been so impressed by the behaviour of those of us who'd had breakfast there that they offered us space to play the final game slot.

After eating a carvery meal though, I decided the best thing for me was to go home and rest some more.

Reflections

Venue issues aside, it was great.  I got to see old friends, meet new people, and generally have a fantastic time, despite my current health issues.  And anything that's been done twice is now a tradition, so that means we have to keep doing it every year.  Right?