Tag: Robin

The Problem With Pookles

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A circular fortification on the coast

“Shouldn’t you be out sniffing in the woods?”

— Merlin

 

The Maze

Ana slouches at her computer, watching the debrief video of an undercover mission she and Elres carried out some months ago. A slice of Jackie’s lemon cake lies untouched on the desk. In the video, people in costumes seemingly assembled from thrift stores are clutching expensive-looking swords. A watermelon sits upon a pedestal. A short, stocky man with a two-handed broadsword steps up and swings confidently. The watermelon explodes with a satisfying ‘PLAPF’ and cheers ring out. The watermelon is replaced and a gentleman with a katana steps up. He strikes so swiftly that some onlookers are still waiting for him to begin. The melon appears whole; an oozing equator and the echoes of the man’s Kiai the only indication that something has happened. He bows and exits the stage to respectful applause. A fresh melon is settled into the holder and Elres takes the stage.

Ana leans closer to the screen.

Elres smiles demurely, looking around the assembled throng with doe eyes. Elres takes aim at the melon, and chops it neatly in two. There is a smattering of polite applause. The two halves of melon fall to the floor and promptly burst into flames. The audience erupts, whooping and hollering. Elres waves regally to the crowd and exits the stage.

“Show off,” mutters Ana. She rewinds and watches Elres again. And then a third time. Ana sighs, picks up the cake and slumps back in her chair. She’s just about to take a bite of the delicious, lemony goodness when suddenly she glares at the cake like it’s poison and flings it back down on the desk. She snatches up her sword and stalks out of the room.

Merlin is in the training room, tweaking the sensitivity on his newest laser-based weapon… to the detriment of the training dummies. His contraption resembles a section of deer antler, such as one might find in a pet shop, with a rotating dial on the end. The dial is inscribed with sigils that are probably better not enquired about. He aims the cervine laser pointer at a training dummy and rubs his thumb back and forth. There is a whumping sound and the unfortunate strawman is peppered with charred, smoking holes the size of golf balls. Merlin frowns, scratches his beard, and begins fiddling with the dial just as Ana shoulders her way through the door.

“ANA! WHAT HO,” cries Merlin.

Ana glares back.

“What brings you down here? Shouldn’t you be out sniffing in the woods?”

“Elres has better form that me. Figured I should practice,” Ana grunts.

“You mean you want to knock seven shades of Sunday out of a straw man to make yourself feel better? HA HA. EXCELLENT IDEA.”

Ana says nothing and begins hacking at the straw man.

“Want to know a secret?” says Merlin, in what he probably thinks is a whisper but sounds more like someone trying to help a deaf person understand them by TALKING MORE LOUDLY.

“Not really.”

Merlin continues on regardless. “I’ve been working on something for Robin’s birthday party. They’re special candles. They LOOK like normal candles but when you blow them out, they summon up a cohort of Satyrs to pipe the tune of ‘Happy Birthday.’ HA HA. It will be wonderful. PANDLES, I call them. HA. HAHAHAAAA!”

“Where’d you get the Satyrs?” Ana asks, suspicious.

“I found an incantation in some old book or other. Nobody was using it. I’m rather proud of how I worked the incantation into the wax.”

“Very clever,” Ana replies. “Robin’s favourite colour is blue.”

With that she stalks back over and resumes battering the training dummies.

“Well…” BAM “That’s one party…” WALLOP “I definitely won’t be…” CLOBBER “attending….” THUMP “Ah, that’s better. Where’s that cake?”

The morning of his birthday, Robin galumphs around Covenant HQ singing a version of Happy Birthday by Altered Images, so fractured and broken it is frankly unrecognisable. He eventually finds his way to the chorus, “If dey were me, if dey were me…”
 He stops, his brow furrowed. “Steve always pretend be Robin on birthday,” he mutters loudly. “Pretend be Robin, do big bad, get Robin in trouble… Perhaps me tell someone, give warning? Me always give warning ’bout Steve. Who listen? Nobody! Always sigh and give Robin dat look. Me look for Steve in now time, but Robin never find. If me no find Steve, maybe Steve no find Robin?” Robin’s brow wrinkles even further with the effort of thinking this through, then relaxes. “Ok, no worry. Everyfing be hunky dory dis year.”
 
He resumes his carefree peregrination.

On the day of Robin’s birthday party, Elres (not invited — Merlin decided that invitations are way too complicated when it comes to the Fae, even those who are technically human), Phil Nhiles (not invited as on disciplinary for his behaviour with valued partner organisations), and Ana (invited, declined), were supposed to be the only Hunters in the Maze. Apart from them, there were some of the RaAD personnel (aka Maze Monkeys) and Jakes, Commander of Field Recovery, Containment and Sterilisation (sometimes shorted to recovery and Deposition, but most often simply “the Cleaners”). Elres was doing some boring E-learning on manual handling, with first aid at work lined up for afters. Phil was in the lab, helping Egbert with some projects, and Ana was in the gym, working out some of her frustration. Oddly enough, Robin was also in the gym — Ana assumed that he didn’t fancy his own birthday party. Either that or he thought the point of a surprise birthday party was for everyone to bring a surprise, and the biggest surprise of all was for him not to turn up.

They spotted the first pookle behind the dumbbell rack. As soon as it realised it had been spotted, it swallowed a 24kg kettlebell, which was almost 10cm taller than the pookle, then scarpered.

Ana sniffed around after it, and discovered it smelled mostly of magic. Robin declared it was probably Robin’s fault, “Robin being so stupid.”

In the lab, Phil was startled by the appearance of several adorable balls of grey fluff that proceeded to start eating… Everything. Scans suggested some kind of inter-dimensional anomaly, and he had to talk Egbert down from his latest rather-more-than-micro dose to get any sense of what this might mean. In short, these things were intrusions into this reality from somewhere else, the way a scientist’s hands would penetrate a glove box containing something they didn’t want to touch directly. Whatever these things looked like, it was unlikely to be a basketball-sized ball of fluff that made cute noises like a happy guinea pig.

Back in the training room, Elres had found a pookle behind one of the vents, and had tried to tempt it out with a rather dry cheese sandwich she had left over from lunch. Initially tempted, the pookle seemed way more interested in eating the computers and chairs.

The team finally got together in the labs, where Ana discovered the pookles were quite content and friendly unless anyone tried to get between them and their food. Robin said he was going to go down to the Archives and see what he could find out about them. He promptly disappeared without waiting for anyone to go with him. After a while, Ana and Elres decided to follow, leaving Phil to try to get hold of someone who could tell them what to do.

Down in Archives, Robin persuaded Rogers the Archivist to open the Archives, which he had sealed shut to keep the pookles out. Robin assured Rogers that he could put up a magic barrier that the pookles wouldn’t be able to get through. Although Robin is not normally well known for his magic skills, Rogers did not know this, and was therefore merely impressed rather than surprised when Robin stripped off his furs and conjured a barrier as promised.

By the time Elres and Ana turned up, Robin was trying to get Rogers to show him where the files were for the missions to which Robin had been assigned. Ana and Elres couldn’t understand why this was necessary or even useful, but they let him get on with it while Elres called the emergency number on the internal comms. This put her through to Jakes mobile, and Elres left a message because Jakes wasn’t picking up — she was already on her way up to see what Phil had to say.

Eventually, the team reconvened on the top floor, where Jakes had assembled a crew of Cleaners, probably pulling some of them in from being off-duty. She swore everyone to secrecy, explaining that they didn’t have clearance to access the parts of the Maze where they were about to go, but she had emergency authorisation to do it anyway, then handed everyone powerful electromagnets, split them up into pairs, then the assembled crew drove the pookles in to the central shaft where the emergency stairs and the cabling/pipework came up from the power generator and desalination units in the lowest level. They continued to drive them down to the bottom level, passing through the high security levels such as Heavy Containment.

The Covenant, it turned out, had a portal on the lowest level, presumably built by Merlin. Jakes activated it, then they drove the teeming throng of reluctant pookles inside.

Only then did “Robin” reveal his secret — he had been Robin’s sorcerous evil twin Steve all along! In the confusion caused by this revelation, aided by distraction from Steve’s pet Pleistocene Cave Hyena Fenella, he escaped, taking some of the Covenant’s files with him.

C’s office, Camelot

Jakes stands straight and stiff in C’s office at Camelot, the main HQ, arms clasped behind her back, gaze resolutely fixed on a point some distance above C’s head. C flips through paper reports, cross-referencing them with whatever she has displayed on her computer screen. The damage is devastating.

“Correct me if I am wrong, Commander, but I understand you permitted one C4 Hunter, a C5 Hunter here on placement from a partner organisation, an Intern on disciplinary watch, and our resident Neanderthal’s evil twin access to OHQ SG5 and SG6?”

“It does sound pretty bad when you put it like that,” Darling murmurs from her seat in the corner, where she is taking notes.

“Yes, ma’am. It was either that or lose everything not nailed down. And anything less than five metres across that was nailed down.”

“I understand that, Commander, but do you comprehend the potentially severe consequences posed by at least two of those present seeing we have access to that technology?”

“I assumed they had been vetted, ma’am. My priority at that moment was to clear the infestation before we lost anything more vital.”

“Can you reassure me that exposure to Asset 1277α is the only extreme security risk you permitted during the course of the incident?”

Jakes clears her throat. “With all due respect, ma’am, I did not permit the security breach. I contacted a senior officer and cleared the proposal.”

“You spoke to Merlin, Jakes! He was three-quarters of the way down his second bottle of rum, and it wasn’t even very good rum! You should have come direct to me.”

“Again, with all due respect, ma’am, you were incommunicado.”

C pinches her nose between her eyes, forehead furrowing. “Yes. I was.” She returns her attention to her computer screen. “Pookles. I hate the bloody things. I refuse to believe they evolved to look like that without intervention. Nothing that dials cute all the way up to eleven, despite coming from another Realm, can possibly have evolved that way without some sort of interference. Have we ascertained whether anything important is missing other than the Archived documents?”

“We have, ma’am,” Darling says, scanning her tablet. “We lost the subjects being held in Heavy Containment. Arctos Halkias, the Coppersmith. Jennifer Drayton, who Section 7 pulled in from the Proton Beach mission — she’s the one Gawain tried to convince you had found a Pandora Jar and sold it. We also lost Joshua Weber, AKA Doctor Keen.”

At that last name, Jake’s right cheek twitches.

“Don’t worry,” C says grimly. “I cannot imagine the inside of a pookle is better than what you had planned for Weber.”

“I beg to differ,” Jakes replies, the hint of a snarl putting an edge to her voice. “We don’t know what happens to things inside a pookle. I know what would have happened to him here.”

C nods. “It can’t be helped now. Did we lose any artefacts?”

“Artefacts remained sealed, and Merlin’s workshop was protected by Dante,” Darling says.

“I never thought I would be thankful for Dante, but I should know by now never to say never. Can you bring Rogers in, please?”

Darling leaves her tablet on her chair and goes out to her own office. “Can you come in now, please?” she asks, her voice slightly muffled by distance and the deadening quality of the magical wards around C’s office.

Rogers enters, his expression nervous. “Ma’am.”

“Have you discovered exactly what this Steve took with him?”

“All documents relating to the Abersky mission, ma’am, including those retrieved by the cleaner crew. He dropped the map with the ley line calculations on it when he escaped. The intern brought it back. Everything else is gone.”

“Just Abersky?”

“He asked about Wormsley, but he only took Abersky.”

“Did he get the photograph?”

“Whi… Which photograph ma’am?” Rogers’s skin appears ashen.

“You know which photograph!” C snaps.

“Uh… Yes. Yes, ma’am. He got the photograph.” Rogers is so nervous he stutters, but he carries on regardless. “All the archived documents were together ma’am, as per protocol. And he was a Hunter. I’ve seen him around. He put a magical barrier up to keep the furry round things out of the Archives, ma’am.”

“Which wouldn’t have been needed if you’d kept the damn door shut! All of that was so he could get in there and steal some files. We don’t even know what he wants with them.”

“He asked for missions involving Robin and the Fae. I had no reason to refuse. He was… I mean, the person I thought he was participated in those missions, so I didn’t see the harm.”

“No. Robin never thought to tell us that the infamous Steve was his evil identical twin.” C sighs. “Very well. You may go.”

“The barrier was really impressive.”

“I said, you may go.” C’s eyes glint like moonlight on a blade, and her voice is as sharp as a flint shard.

Darling offers Rogers a sympathetic smile as he scuttles out. Jakes has not moved a millimetre.

“Other than Heavy Containment and Asset 1277α, was there exposure to any other high security asset during the incident, Commander?” C asks. “And don’t try to avoid the question this time.”

“No ma’am,” Jakes says. “All other C1 classified assets remain secure.”

“Well. That’s something. We should at least be able to get the Heads of Bran off the premises without having to run a full decontamination cycle.” C taps some papers together and feeds them into a slot on her desk. A hint of burned paper drifts through the room, quickly disappearing under the aromatic cedarwood emanating from the ceramic diffuser on the windowsill and the waxy scent of furniture polish. “Very well. Best get on with sorting out this mess. Go and wake up Merlin for me. I don’t care how bad his head is. And you have my authority to requisition resources from available Hunter squads if you need them, but be parsimonious. The rest of the world doesn’t stop just because we’ve had a problem with pookles.”

 

Everyone’s a Critic

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“I don’t think letting Merlin have this would be entirely sensible.”

— C

 

C’s Office, Camelot (Covenant main HQ), France.

C has hung the painting the team recovered from Wormsley Church on a wall in her office. She leans back in her office chair, head tilted to one side, staring at it.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not keeping it there,” she says. “A couple of our more robust R&D — that’s Recovery & Deposition, not Merlin’s mob, I don’t think letting Merlin have this would be entirely sensible — will be up presently to take it somewhere safe.” She glances at Keira. “Belial, Hyacinth said? Interesting. I thought we’d recovered all of his infernal artefacts when we disbanded that cult in the 80s. They were all big hair, bad attitude, and body odour. Nothing to give us any serious problems, but what they lacked in common sense and competency they made up for in funding. Quite the collection, they acquired. Belial isn’t very hands on, as arcane beings go, but I can’t say I like the idea of associated artefacts being in general circulation.”
A small light flashes on C’s console and she presses a button to open the door to her office. Two people enter, both illegally tall and made entirely of muscle. They wear gear that might have been designed by Rob Liefeld, considering the number of pockets, and shades so dark the lenses look opaque.
“The artefact, ma’am?”
“Over there, thank you.”
“Precautions?”
“None necessary. Magical containment with minimum Epsilon level clearance. Keep the graduate recruits out, will you?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
They present a PDA and C scribbles a sigil with many flourishes. Only then does the pair lift the painting off the wall, slide it into a protective case, then head to the door.
“One more thing,” C calls after them.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“The associated case is not entirely closed. Should it become necessary to dispose of the artefact, Robin here is to be given the opportunity to carry out that task.”
“Understood, ma’am.”
Once the Cleaners have left, C picks up the painting that had been there previously. It appears to be the Gustav Klimt painting “Medicine”, which was supposedly lost in WWII. She rehangs it, then sits back down at her desk.
“Assuming Agnes is now at rest, I think we can call this case closed. At least unless Black’s predicament becomes a problem for people other than Black. But let’s keep an eye out for any other artefacts that might belong to Belial regardless. Anything you wish to add?”
Nobody replies, apart from Robin, who mutters something about saving the day and wanting his picture on the wall as Hunter of the month this time.

There may be trouble ahead…

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A device resembling an old-school kaleidoscope

“Ok, tanks Merlin… What clockwise?“

— Robin

 

Heorot, the Maze (Covenant Operational HQ), south-west France.

Merlin enters the bar and nods to Ffred the barman, who proceeds to lift an enormous drinking horn down from the brackets up behind the bar and set it under Pilsner tap. Nobody else drinks the Pilsner. Everybody else knows who brews it.
“Did Karl go back to the States?” he asks Ffred.
Ffred shrugs noncommittally. “I’m not his mother, Merlin,” he says in his strong Welsh accent.
“Well, if you see anyone from the team that was in Abersky, tell them Emily found something interesting in the paperwork the Cleaners brought back with them, will you? Ooooh, lovely. That’s going to hit the spot.”
“Aberscasbethau, was it?” Ffred asks casually.
“That’s right,” Merlin says happily, his beard made even more enormous by a ring of froth around his mouth.
“Right you are, Merlin.” Ffred returns to polishing the bar.

As he leaves the bar, Merlin spots Robin in the corridor, and breaks into a grin as huge as Brian Blessed’s is when he’s in a Hawkman suit making pew pew noises. Merlin hands over a cylindrical object. It is black, shiny, and has three rings of different kinds of metallic substance Robin has never seen before. Probably no-one has ever seen before.

“Twist the front ring clockwise — clockwise from the back, that is, don’t look into the lens, never look into the lens — to turn on the light. Turn it anti-clockwise to turn it off. Has a bit of an odd cast to it, but it’ll do for seeing by, if you’ve got nothing else. You didn’t really want a torch, though, did you? Turn the front and second rings clockwise and it might light up invisible things. Like ghosts. Maybe. Look, Egbert said he saw invisible things when he used both front rings, but then he also said he’d dropped a tab with his coffee this morning to help him focus, so who knows? That’s not really the fun part, though.” He pauses, almost too excited to speak. “What you… What you do… What you do, right, is make sure all the rings are fully anticlockwise.” He forces himself to be stern for a moment. “This is VERY IMPORTANT. Then you agitate it, like this” — he holds it in both hands and shakes it vigorously, like a winning Formula 1 driver with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Yellow Label — “then twist the second ring clockwise and the back ring three notches anticlockwise. Understand? I shan’t do it right now, because C will have my head. She just had the place redecorated. For gods’ sakes, man, don’t be looking at it when you do. It’ll melt your face off.” He clutches his ribs, so pleased he might explode. “It’s a MASER. Magma Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Not sure how long you can run it for before it melts, and Egbert said something about adding additional features to do with what rings you twist in what direction, but I’m not convinced it was only one tab he dropped this morning, so gods know what else it does. Have fun anyway. Let me know how you get on with it.”
Robin examines the object with some befuddlement. “Ok, tanks Merlin… What clockwise?”
Merlin strides off without hearing Robin’s question, too lost in thought of all the exciting things Robin might use it for out in the field.
Robin turns the magma-lite this way and that. “Ok, me figure out. Merlin say Robin twist bits then point, but me no look where point. Robin no forget shakey-shake bit. Was shakey-shake when look or no look?”
Oh dear.

The Midas Effect

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“Something given after death is still a gift.”

— Hyacinth

 

Professor Fantastic Has A Very Bad Day

Case file: Darren Black, stage name “Professor Fantastic”, is a street magician, illusionist and arch-debunker of those who claim to have supernatural powers. Famously ill-tempered, he delights in the misfortunes of his rivals, and loves to stick a metaphorical knife in when someone is already on the ground. He has a prize on offer to anyone who can demonstrate anything resembling magic abilities, but somehow nobody has ever won it. That means he’s cheating. According to the report, he recently investigated the most haunted church in England, the infamous Wormsley Parish Church. Now, the oddest, most inexplicable things are happening, and they are driving him mad. Probably couldn’t happen to a more deserving chap, but I suppose we should look into it.

 

Team:

Ana: a solitary member of one of the allied werewolf packs.

Hyacinth: powerful frost witch masquerading as a sweet old lady.

Robin: chronologically challenged Neanderthal

Keira Sayles: Bad girl, crook, mistress of sacrcasm.

 

After turning up at Black’s house, the team met Geoffrey Collins, Black’s PA. Black himself was not at home. Collins explained that, ever since the church, Black had been having problems. Wishes were coming true in the worst possible way. Pressed for more information, Collins tried to give examples: he’d wish for a parking space, and a truck would crash through the car park, shoving cars out of the way. He’d express the desire to have cheese after his evening meal, and a lorryload would be dumped on the drive in the middle of the night. He could no longer so much as think about getting a hair cut, for fear of what might happen, and have you ever tried NOT thinking about something? He was becoming paralyzed.

Both Keira and Hyacinth immediately recognised this as a curse and asked if they had stolen anything from the church. The answer was no. Did they talk to anyone? No. Was he sure? Yes. Well, other than the sweet little girl who appeared in the graveyard…

Black came home while they were discussing what the little girl had said, and he was furious. He tried to make the team leave, but when he opened his mouth to tell them to get out, no words would come. A chair slid through from an adjoining room and knocked his feet out from under him, so that he was sitting facing them all.

Keira tortured him a little by repeatedly demanding he tell them he did not want help. Either the curse prevented him from speaking, or he was paralyzed with fear of what might happen if he expressed even a negative desire.

The Hunters established from Collins that the little girl had told them there was a cursed painting in the church, and the cantrip associated with it. Black, of course, in his role of arch-debunker, had chosen to go into the church and recite the cantrip in front of the painting.

Belial once and Belial twice /  Where flames once were / You now find ice / Grant me a demon to do my will / Should I ask for good, it shall do ill.

After that, the team headed to the church. They found the painting, but it seemed to be stuck to the wall and there was no way to remove it. Outside in the churchyard, nosing around, they realised they were being watched by a fox with piercing blue eyes. Ana gave chase, and finally caught up with the fox in the woods. The fox transformed into a feisty redhead with a predatory grin and a strong line in flirting, to which Ana was entirely oblivious. She called herself Red.

A fox sitting in a cemetery

After some pressure from the team, which she seemed to enjoy hugely, Red explained that she was pissed off at Black because she’d tried to win the £1million prize, and he’d refused to acknowledge her power. She’s a god! How very dare he! All of this was her revenge. Said revenge wasn’t just getting him to activate the curse in the painting (which, by the way, she put there — it does not belong to the church), but also to set Black Agnes on him.

Black Agnes was a witch who was hanged in 1587. She escaped being burned only because she supplied fertility potions to the local Duchess, Eleanor of Lembury. She was accused of witchcraft by a local man who fell off a cart after he had been drinking and hurt his back, and could therefore no longer work. He accused her of cursing him, because she had been passing on her way to help deliver a baby. Eleanor and some of Agnes’s other clients arranged secretly for her to be buried in the cemetery. Her bones were dug up during some archaeological work and put on display in a local museum. Some years later, a local coven stole her skeleton and reburied it in a secret place within the church grounds. Red had taken the metal wire that had been used to articulate her skeleton and hidden it on Black. Now Agnes was on her way to hunt him down and get it back, because she considered it hers.

“Of course,” Hyacinth said. “Something given after death is still a gift.”

The team started tracking Black’s route back from the church, having got the details of where they had stopped from Collins. At the big Tesco on the outskirts of Eastbourne, where they had stopped for Collins to buy a cheese and onion pasty, they were met by DC Mark Rintoul and DCI Jane Reid. DCI Reid worked with Unit 13 on the Wendigo case in Scotland, and was more than happy to offer their co-operation. They were there because one of the security guards had attacked a colleague before walking out of the store. He seemed to be in some kind of fugue state or mental crisis, like several other people they had picked up that day already, and was currently still walking about 6 miles away while they waited for mental health support to come in and pick him up.

Keira said they would take care of it, then they drove as fast as they could to find the security guard. He was, as described, walking along the road, followed by a police escort.

Keira waved the police away and Hyacinth established that the guard had been possessed by Black Agnes. They persuaded her to get into their car on the basis that they could get Agnes to where she was going faster.

The drove where Agnes directed. Her host sat in the back and pointed with one arm straight out, occasionally demanding that they stop. Whenever they stopped, she would take her current host and find  new one — all people with whom Black had interacted.

Back at Black’s house, the team rescued Black’s driver from the shades Agnes summoned, then searched everywhere for the pieces of metal, but couldn’t find them. They called Collins and found out that Black was visiting his creative consultant — the man who designed his magic tricks for him.

Arriving at the warehouse containing the magical workshop, Keira shoved her way inside and yelled, “Oi! Dickhead! Bits of metal!”

Black had no idea what they were talking about. After a few minutes of arguing, Black’s booking agent, Cassie Foyle, revealed herself to be none other than Red the Fox. She said she might have hidden the articulation wire in Black’s jacket lining. With that information, they quickly found the wire.

Agnes still needed to go back to her resting place but needed a host to do it. Red eventually agreed to help, and turned up with a singularly intelligent looking cat. As for breaking the curse… All Black had to do was apologise and pay up, and then she would sort that out. As far as the team was concerned, this was between Black and Red, and so they left Black to stew in his own misogynistic, entitled bullshit.

Back at Wormsley, the cat led them to Agnes’s grave. The team buried the articulation wire, reuniting it with its owner, and so bringing to an end the haunting of Wormsley Church. They took the cat inside the church and had the bright idea of asking him how to get the painting off the wall. The cat extending one claw, inserted it into a very narrow slot on the side of the painting, at which point there was a click and the painting came free.

The team returned to base with the painting, with the exception of Hyacinth, who took the cat — now called Marcus Oliver Graves — home.

 

Ripples

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A woman shown as head and shoulders sitting in an ornate thrown

 

The Queen’s Court, Elfame

Elres is summoned to Court. The ruler of the people sits in a large, ornately carved throne, iridescent with colours only found on the wings of insects. The drapes that conceal the servants’ entrances are the colour of moss growing in a forest grove. Tapestries on the walls depict hunting scenes, bordered by intricate embroidery in the form of stylised animals, plants, and geometric designs. Around the court fringes sit or stand the courtiers, nearly all of them wearing animal masks in a mix of highly decorated silks bedecked with jewels, and headpieces so realistic that it looks as though they are, in fact, anthropomorphised animals. A hare whispers to a boar, giggling behind one paw as both of them stare shamelessly at Elres approaching the dais. A courtier, wearing a fluttering ruby dragonfly the size of a magpie over their face instead of a mask, sidles amongst the rest of the court, keeping pace, watching slyly. A fox, sitting somewhat separate from the others, black paws neatly together and brush curled round them, scrutinises her with eyes that glow sapphire blue when the light catches them. A bear, towering over the others, huffs and grumbles wordlessly.
“The humans know about the Pechts, child. I am disappointed that you could not prevent this. How did we not know that the old witch was keeping one of the gates alive? And how were we to guess that a human might find a way to make use of such a thing for his own, inexplicable purposes? I made Athena believe I would take her hunters’ heads and have them set upon spikes in our Great Hall, and so gained leverage over her. I will not be shy about reminding her of that.” She allows her gaze to wander over her rich tapestries and fine drapes, and to linger upon one or two of her more finely dressed courtiers. She laughs. “What paltry decorations they would make. We do not want the Pechts to gain a foothold in the human Realm. I trust you understand this. We did not pass beyond the Ninth Wave and leave our first World to the humans only for the Pechts to find a way back. Come closer, child. I would add to your instructions.”
The courtiers watch with more than obvious jealousy as Elres ascends the dais and kneels, so her ruler can whisper into her ear.
~⊕~

Astoria, Queens, New York, USA

Cut to a much less grand setting: a small house in Astoria, Queens, which is kept neatly, but clearly hasn’t had new furniture, curtains, carpet, or inhabitants in a very long time. Beige, brown, and faded green are much in evidence. Several of the chairs have clearly had their legs repaired with newer wood; expertly, but with no thought given to whether the new wood matched the old.
There’s a knock at the door. There’s a doorbell, of course, but Norman had disconnected it years ago. Everyone he wanted to see knew to knock; anyone who didn’t could stand out there and press the button until the cows came home, for all he cared. Norm opened the door to find a man with enough lurid scars to give the impression that he’d been torn to pieces and stitched back together. He had a personality to match.
“Jesus Christ, you leathery old cuss, you’re still alive.”
“Hell yes, Karl. Clean livin’. Ain’t drank nuthin’ but vodka for fitty years. Keeps the pipes clean. You want coffee?”
Karl had no idea how old Norm was. He’d been old when Karl’s dad had introduced them, and Karl’s dad never knew him when he wasn’t old, either, or at least never mentioned it if he had. He *did* mention that Karl’s grandfather had introduced *them*, and that if you wanted to be welcomed in ever again, you never refused the offer of coffee.
After the usual polite chat, Norm walked Karl down to the workshop he had in the basement; Karl hardly ever visited if he didn’t have a request. “Whaddaya need?”
“Teflon-jacketed with a magnetic iron core. Sidearm caliber, three hundred rounds.”
Norm looked at him for a long moment. “No shit.”
“No shit.”
“Got it. Swing by on Thursday, and bring some of that kielbasa you get from the Polish deli you won’t give me the address for, because you’re an asshole. You want them in mags?”
“Six mags, the rest in boxes. Braille-key the mags with an ‘F’ on the back.”
~⊕~

Heorot, the Maze (Covenant Operational HQ)

In the seemingly deserted bar at Covenant HQ, lit only by the shrinking glimmer of embers dying in the open fireplace, a gravelly voice suddenly shatters the silence. “Robin try to ‘member what Karl say he get for bang-stick to throw? Special type of metal rock him say. Me think it sound like… um… err… mag-something. Mag….mag… magma-light! Yes, magma-light sound like what Robin need.” A figure rises from the concealing shadow of a wingback armchair and approaches the fireplace. It leans over and Robin’s face is revealed, his heavy angular features softened by the sultry amber glow. After a quick, furtive glance to check he is alone he leans closer, then bellows up the chimney “Hey Santa, Robin want magma-light!” As the echoes of his cry scrabble up the sooty brickwork to freedom Robin turns away, then stops. “Xmas not soon” he ponders, “Maybe Robin ask Merlin for magma-light as well as thunder-rock. Yes, good plan Robin, me ask Merlin.” He takes a step, then stops again. “Maybe me ask her too, just in case.” With a slight shiver of dread at the enormity of the power he is about to address in supplication, Robin returns to the fireplace and inserts his head, once again, into its gaping maw. This time his voice is tens of decibels lower, as near to as whisper as he can get, and respectful. “Please may Robin have magma-light? Me will tidy room, take medicine, and even wash behind Robin’s ears. Thank you… Mary Poppins.”
~⊕~

RaAD Weapons Development, The Maze

Later…
Merlin glances up as Robin skulks into the workshop. “Duck!” Something resembling a boomerang with teeth whizzes over Robin’s head. A few hairs drift to the floor, wafting gently. “Sorry about that. Rogers there is really not a very good aim. That’s why he’s not allowed in the field. I SAID THAT’S WHY YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED IN THE FIELD, ISN’T IT, ROGERS? Deaf as a post.”
Rogers shakes his head. “I can hear you just fine, sir,” he says in a small voice.
Merlin juggles awkwardly with some crystals. They look suspiciously like the crystals Windsor was using to power his leyline accumulators. “We’ve just been playing around with these. The clean-up crew brought them back from bonny wee Scotland.” He puts on a terrible, see-you-jimmy accent to say it. “There was some paperwork as well, but R&D are looking over that. What’s that Emily? SPEAK UP WOMAN? Yes, quite right, that’s us. You ARE looking at it, aren’t you Emily? WELL THEN. Quite fun. I can think of things to do with them already. Anyway. What can I do for you, eh?”
“Last mission Robin see people me no see since me come from long time back ago when to now time,” Robin says. “Robin see Vadhagh. Me no see often back then, but they always walk round with nose in air going la-de-dah look at hairy man how amusing, but how smelly. Robin think nose so far up in air it go round and up Vadhagh’s own poop place. They big danger if angry, rock no hurt good, stick no hurt good, and pointed stick only make more angry. Robin find out they no like special rock, but me only have normal rock, stick, and pointed stick. Keira no let Robin drive and no let have rock go bang, so how me halp good if only have normal rock and sticks? Robin need upgrade. Robin need thunder-rock that go bang… go bang and make all who hear thunder go surprise poop. Me also need special rock thing that Robin think called magma-light. Me not know what it do, but Robin need for good halp if meet Vadhagh again. Merlin and Robin frens, so Robin let Merlin know me already ask higher powers Santa and Mary Poppins, so if Merlin say ‘Robin, no’ like Keira and C” — he drops his voice to a loud whisper that carries all around the testing lab — “who like Keira, but old,” — his voice returns to normal, which doesn’t travel much further than to Merlin’s ears over the general background noise — “then me get anyway. Santa only come once a year and Mary Poppins busy lady, so will be delay. Robin sad for delay, so come to frens Merlin. Robin know Merlin no like be beaten by Santa or Mary Poppins, so me come Merlin to get thunder-rock and magma-light first. Imagine look on Mary’s… me mean Santa’s face when Robin say ho-ho-ho me already got from frens Merlin, just leave by tree and be on merry way.”
Merlin runs his fingers through his massive, furry beard. His eyebrows thicken, his eyes gleam with flecks of amber, and is there a suggestion of teeth looking a little more sharp?
“YOU ALREADY ASKED MARY POPPINS? GOOD GODS MAN. DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME SHE AND C BUMPED INTO EACH OTHER? We can’t have the world’s most annoying nanny turning up here. We’re far too busy for C to be distracted trying double or quits on that sniper distance challenge. And less of the old. She’s a wonderful woman.” He grins in a way that suggests he knows exactly how wonderful she is. “That bloody umbrella-wielding witch cheats. Right. Thunder-rock, make surprise poop you say. Hopkins! HOPKINS! Get this man a whoopee grenade will you? Mark 2. Actually, better make that mark 3. The mark 2 was rather unstable. Not sure what a magma light is, but I do have some ideas. Give me a couple of days, will you? I’ve got a lad out collecting for me near Stromboli. Should be back soon. I’ll be in touch. And, Robin,” he pats Robin on the shoulder with an enormous hand, “best keep this on the down low, eh?”
Robin grins hugely. “Ok, Robin not tell. Surprise poop better if thunder-rock also surprise anyway. Me go now, but me come back for magma-light. Robin thank frens Merlin, so go fly kite ask Mary Poppins no come now.”
He skips merrily away singing the opening to Thunderstruck replacing the ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah bit with wet raspberry sounds.

Abersky Debrief

Posted on by ravenbait

 

The Covenant's HQ: a castle on a wooded hillside.

“I DID GOOD OK?”

— Keira

 

C’s Office, Covenant HQ

“Well. You will be delighted to hear that Queen Maedhbh has agreed her current décor would not, in fact, be enhanced by the presence of your decapitated heads. Leaf green and blood red are not a good combination unless it is a battlefield, apparently, and she fears it might give some of her younger, more impressionable courtiers the wrong idea about the future she sees for her race.” C glares at them. She is not often visibly angry. She is so now. “I gave you very strict orders, yes? Can everyone agree that I gave very strict, very precise orders? Can we have that on the record? And I understand that it was Elres who made the initial decision to investigate further rather than returning as instructed? Yes? And by the time you made the decision to return as per orders and hand over the evidence you had collected, you were no longer able to leave?”

Everybody shuffles their feet and makes affirmative noises.

“Excellent. We have had suspicions about certain unsavoury practices on the part of our — ahem — esteemed allies for some time. You may consider, Mr Novac, that your team was an ill fit for this mission. I can assure you, it was carefully considered and absolutely fit for the job. Ms Sayles has the mindset to do unsavoury things where necessary. Robin comes from a time when the Sìth still lived in this Realm. Hyacinth — yes, I know she is not here — is an accomplished witch and as sharp as a tack. Elres is… Elres has a particular background that made her well suited to this mission. Mr Novac, you have the stopping power of an ill-tempered rhinoceros and little compunction about using it. Would you have suggested I send our intern? No. I thought not.

“There are only a few things I need to know at this point. The Sìth would have us believe that the Pritani — yes, Ms Sayles, those are what you would call the Picts — are a dangerous race. They say the tribes they have imprisoned were those who refused to give up their culture and integrate with changing society. They insisted on keeping their language, their customs, their martial practices, their pride. Their magic, ladies and gentlemen. Did they seem dangerous to you? What were your impressions?” Before anyone can answer, she continues. “And Windsor. Was there anything that might help us to ascertain how he found out about Abersky and its unique arrangements? Was he an opportunist, or do you think he had any additional agenda? Ideally we would have him in custody. As you know, we have agents who are very skilled at extracting information from even the most unwilling subject. Still. No matter, Needs must.”

Robin holds up one hairy hand. “Robin no do an investigate, me only throw rock.”

C sighs. “If you say so, Robin. I am sure you were more helpful than that. Or perhaps I should be speaking to your previous incarnation.”

“Keira no let Robin help. Robin want drive, Robin want rock go bang, Keira say no. Me only throw rock, sing song of Robin’s people… and me maybe mumble mumble mumble.”

Robin shuffles back behind Karl.

“All I wanted to do was have Keira get some pictures of the stone circle. Seemed like an important place to photograph. Not her fault that things went sour so quickly,” Elres says.

“This is not about fault,” C says sharply. “It is a record of fact. No one is being thrown to the wolves, or should I say Cù Sìth. I am establishing, for the record, what happened in what order. That is all. Anything more than that will come from your own people. At least as far as you are concerned.”

Karl grunts. “I’ve shared my opinions on the suitability of the team on a mission that wasn’t meant to go sideways; you didn’t throw us under the bus, and that’s really all I was worried about. As regards the Pritani, between them and the Sìth, they were the ones who didn’t attack us and in fact protected us while we were undoing the nutty professor’s work. They also aided us in keeping the villagers from getting fitted for body bags, and, excepting pointy-ears over there, I think we’ve made some tenuous inroads toward a functional working relationship. And they don’t seem to be shrieking assholes, which is more than I can say for our current Sìth allies. Ma’am.”

C almost manages to hide her smile. “Thank you for that carefully expressed assessment, Mr Novac. I am pleased you were less informative, not to mention expressive, when you approached me earlier. Elres, perhaps you can keep the ‘shrieking assholes’ part of Mr Novac’s assessment from official dispatches? Thank you so much. In your opinion, Mr Novac, is there likely to be anything left on site that makes it worth sending some forensic techs to run clean-up?”

“No worry, Karl leave plenty needing clean. He make big mess,” Robin cackles.

“Might be reasonable to gather up any equipment Dr. Wonko left, just in case any of it is potentially operational or instructive to like-minded dumbasses,” Karl says. “We were mostly concerned with shutting it down at the time; he might have more equipment tucked away under his bed or something. My sister-in-law is tenured faculty, and given what she makes, I have to assume these machines aren’t terribly expensive to make, if he had 8 or 9 of them. Might be an even ten, and again, see previous, re: like-minded dumbasses. And,” he says, jabbing Robin in the ribs. “as messes go, one sluagh tartare isn’t that bad.”

“I doubt anyone will replicate the work. It seems” — C pinches the bridge of her nose as if cutting off thoughts of even more complications — “Dr Windsor was born in 1843 and has been working on this problem for quite some time, aided by canny investments of an inheritance. Nevertheless, I shall send in the Cleaners. A sensible idea.”

“That’s a genuine relief, ma’am,” Karl says.

Robin leans out from behind Karl and holds up his hand. “Ok. Robin help, me go do clean.”

“No, Robin, we need someone sensible. As much as I appreciate your willingness, I am sure we can find something more suited to your talents.”

“C just like Keira and say no Robin,” Robin says, miming his idea of Keira telling him ‘no’ for the umpteenth time. “C Just like Keira, but old. Me bet second best stick C say no to Robin want rock go bang just like Keira.” He goes back behind Karl, muttering loudly. “Robin go Merlin and me get magic rock go bang. magic rock go bang better than just rock go bank, must have better name… hmmmm… Thunder rock! Yes. Thunder rock good name. Me get thunder rock from Merlin. If Merlin in good mood Robin get rock not only go bang, but when rock make thunder all who hear go surprise poop!”

Keira steps forward, obviously annoyed. “I took a LOT of pictures and distinctly a) reminded people we should not investigate; and b) prevented at least one Covenant Asset from jumping through a hole in the world; and c) managed to convince a local to talk to a relative to prevent an entire village being stuck in a fae prison. I DID GOOD OK?”

“Thank you, Ms Sayles. Your photographic evidence has already been passed to the Research and Archive Division,” C says, checking her computer screen. “We have a physiotherapist ready to assess your injury for any lasting damage, should you consent to medical support. Your intervention in the case of the villagers is duly noted and most appreciated, even though I understand Hyacinth mediated on the more technical aspects? A pity about Dr Windsor. I am sure we would have found placing him in one of our interrogation units most… edifying.”

“Dr Windsor’s demise was an unfortunate case of a ricochet warning shot. Won’t happen again.”

“Is that a euphemism for…” C checks her notes again. “Shot him in the talisman?” She offers a wink so subtle it might not even be a wink. “I cannot say I would have acted differently. A passing observation, no more.”

“All I can decisively say is a warning shot was definitely issued, and his talisman was hit by a bullet. Ma’am.”

Karl’s face is so impassive, the inside of his cheek must be a raw mess from being bitten to keep himself from laughing. His eyes have not so much as moved in Keira’s direction since she began talking, but after that last “ma’am” he was vibrating so hard that C’s tea resembles a water glass in Jurassic Park, and right now it’s 50:50 whether he’ll make it through the rest of the debrief without laughing or exploding.

Robin stops muttering for a moment. “Keira make bad promise. Man no here. Man already dead.. Hard to kill man already dead. Very hard if dead man no here,” he exclaims.

C fails to hide a chuckle by clearing her throat. “Very well. You are all dismissed. Thank you. Should there be anything else, I am sure I will be able to find you.”

 

The Mists of Abersky

Posted on by ravenbait

A stone carved with Pictish symbols

“Keira’s Very Fairy Bad Day.”

— Hyacinth

Somewhere in the wild and desolate far north of Scotland…

Hyacinth Battle-proven frost witch with an irresistable old granny act.
Elres On secondment to the Covenant from… Well. That’s Need To Know, and so far nobody has needed to know.
Robin A Neanderthal who accidentally travelled from “long time back ago” after touching a magic obelisk.
Keira Sayles Nickname “The Smile”. Ended up working for the Covenant after charging them for her assistance on a mission. It’s cheaper to have her on the payroll than accept her freelance rates.
Karl Novac The Novac family has been providing private protection against supernatural creatures for generations. For a price. Karl works for the Covenant because he’s more interested in monster hunting than diplomacy.

 

Mission summary:

C sent the team to the tiny hamlet of Abersky in the far north-west of Scotland. One of the Covenant’s allies had claimed a Fringe Physicist was in the area, up to no good.  The mission parameters were quite simple: check it out. See if there is anything unusual. If there is, report back. DO NOTHING. It was not supposed to be an investigation. the only job was to verify that something needed investigating. Should an investigation be needed, the allies in question would take that on themselves.

C was very clear about this. Everyone said they understood.

Everyone.

On arrival, the team repaired to the village pub, where Robin explained to Karl that a “pint” meant a beer and Keira took some photos of the wall of fog about a mile offshore. The landlady, Mary Urqhuart, mentioned when questioned that there had indeed been someone odd in town — an English lad, she said, was renting the old McPhail farmhouse. “He doesn’t really talk to anyone,” she said. “He does a lot of hiking up the back hill, near the stone circle.”

Elres insisted that they investigate further, despite Keira’s objections. On leaving the pub to investigate the farmhouse, the team discovered the mist had come all the way into the village. As Keira drove the Covenant Range Rover slowly out of the village to the McPhail farm, the mists grew thicker until she could barely see a thing. Within the mists, shadows moved.

In the farmhouse, the team found various papers covered in calculations, maps, a few photographs, and some strange pieces of apparatus that looked like old valve radios hooked up to crystals by means of wire resembling flexible haematite. Despite their orders to leave well alone, they decided to go looking in the woods for the stone circle.

In the woods, they came across a reality tear — a blue, shimmering fracture that appeared two-dimensional from any viewpoint.

A blue, glowing object hangs in front of a background of misty trees

Robin, surprised, through his rock at it, and his rock vanished through the tear. It was his favourite rock. He was distraught. He immediately tried to go into the tear to find his rock, but Keira held him back on the basis this was A Very Bad Idea.

Hyacinth and Elres decided they would go through instead.

On the Other Side, Hyacinth and Elres became separated. Elres recognised the place as the Betwixt, the world that exists in the gap between the Land of the Fae and the Land of the Humans — between the Underworld of the Sìth and the Overworld of Earth. She called for Hyacinth, knowing how easy it would be for a human to become lost there, even a human as magically powerful as Hyacinth. When she did so, Hyacinth called back from somewhere in the misty gloom.

A giant black dog with red, glowing eyes against a dark, smoky background.But so did something else. A deep, throaty bark shattered the eerie stillness. Then another. Both Hyacinth and Elres could feel the burgeoning fear as the Cù-Sìth approached. Elres drew her flaming sword, seeing red eyes, twin points of flame in the twilight. She called again for Hyacinth, knowing that if she ventured so far into the Betwixt she lost sight of the portal back to Earth, neither of them would make it back.

Hyacinth found her, but the black dog was between both of them and the portal, and it seemed it would be impossible for them to pass. Although she had drawn her sword, Elres had a power that none of the team knew: she banished the Cù-Sìth, sending it far away. Ears flat, tail between its legs, whimpering, the great dog slunk away into the darkness like it had been scolded by its master.

Hyacinth and Elres made it back through the portal, Hyacinth now very suspicious of her team-mate.

The others had already gone.

~⊕~

Tired of waiting for Elres and Hyacinth, and with more and more shadows appearing in the mists, the other three had headed towards the circle. As they proceeded, they were stalked from above by a small, implike creature that fluttered through the trees above them, watching their every move.A small creature with bat wings and pointy ears.

On reaching the circle, they decided not to go inside the perimeter of stones. “That’s magic stuff,” Keira declared (not for the first or the last time). “Magic stuff is not my job. Where did Hyacinth get to? She does magic stuff.”

At that moment, a loud, deep bark echoed through the trees. The stone circle began to glow with a blue shimmer resembling the one they had seen in the forest.

The team made to scarper before being swallowed by some sort of proto-dimension. Behind them, figures appeared in the circle: a man and a woman, surrounded by a pack of lithe, restless hounds with white fur and red ears. The man was large and swarthy, carrying a short sword. The woman was tall and red-haired. Both were painted in complex designs of bright blue. They spoke in a language the team didn’t understand, but which sounded a little like Welsh. Their hounds began to pour from the circle in an undulating wave of shining teeth and panting tongues.

The team ran, almost colliding with Elres and Hyacinth, who had finally caught up. All of them headed back through the trees, only pausing long enough for Keira to shoot the bat-winged creature tracking them from above. The white and red hounds gave chase.

As they approached the outer edge of the forest, the shadows in the mist grew more numerous, more substantial. Finally, they caught sight of one — a terrible, cadaverous form with dead-fish eyes and the thin, greasy hair of a corpse. it screeched, running towards them, only for two of the white hounds to set upon it like lions on a gazelle. The white hounds continued to protect them as they made their way out of the mist-dense forest.

Upon reaching the farmhouse, they discovered it was occupied. A man was there, wearing a tweed suit and packing equipment into a bag. This man turned out to be Dr Gerald Windsor, who was unexpectedly co-operative when it came to explaining what he was doing, although his confident assertion that he was making a perpetual motion power generator from an astronomical conjunction didn’t make a lot of sense. Keira was finally reduced to shooting him, although this did no damage until Hyacinth’s magical senses determined he was protected by an amulet.

Amongst his papers, they found a diagram showing how his devices were connected to the stone circle, and decided to end this.

Outside, the cadaverous creatures were everywhere, and both Keira and Hyacinth found themselves overcome with terror at the sound of their terrible screeching, so both of them were unable to stop themselves fleeing. Elres, Karl and Robin were not affected. Karl laid into the nearest pair, aided by Robin. Karl’s serious firepower made short of work of his opponent, but Robin was bitten and was being drained of life until Elres stepped in with her flaming sword and stabbed the creature attacking him. She then banished them all, clearing the way for the team to regroup and head back to the circle.

Up at the circle, the entire population of the village had gathered and was heading towards the great rip at the centre of the circle. Local PC Kenneth McLeod was desperately trying to get them to stop. He and Keira recognised each other.

“It’s the wrong time!” he yelled.

With some effort, Keira was able to find out from McLeod that the circle was a gateway to the village’s ancestors, imprisoned by the Sìth in a kind of temporal limbo. Once a generation, circumstances arose that blinded their Sìth prison guards and allowed people from the village to meet with their Pecht ancestors — frequently becoming inhabited by more recent ancestors while this happened. Windsor had somehow found out about this and thought he could tap the energy created by tearing the village free from its temporal moorings. The problem was, doing it at the wrong time meant the Sìth guards could see it happening, which was why the area was swarming with Sluagh and Cù-Sìth.

Keira relayed all of this to Hyacinth, who managed to explain to one of the villagers, at that moment possessed by the spirit of her Great Great Great Great etc Grandmother, who could speak the language of the Pechts. She in turn explained it to the Queen, who ordered all of the villagers to leave the circle while the Covenant team found all of Windsor’s devices and smashed them, anchoring the circle back in the present where it should have been, and bringing the village back to the present.