A Valiant Death

A tale of Zombie LARPing.

It was my last survivor run. Two teams of us had banded together for safety. Yeah, that just made us a more tempting target.

We were crossing the mall from one unit to the next when someone shouted 'White Knight!'* And there he was, running full tilt down the mall with an axe in his hand. Everyone scattered! I found myself separated from my group with a guy I didn't know. I had a spade and he was unarmed. Of course, the White Knight came after us.

We ran through the store, down the stairs to the cellar, not stopping to switch on our torches. It was dark. We waited with baited breath, hoping the White Knight wouldn't follow us down. It may have been my only bit of luck on that run...

Hearts pounding, we crept back upstairs. The White Knight had left! Better yet, we could see our groups at the Bioflex Recruitment Desk, just across the mall from us!

Reunited, I allowed myself to relax in the illusion that I was safe.

We forged ahead. I was at the front of our group, the only person with a melee weapon. That was fine. I was backed up by my allies, all armed to the teeth. They had my back, right?

Turning a corner, there was the second White Knight. I shouted a warning, backing up with my spade en-guard . Someone shouted, 'Don't run! Stand and fight!' So I did. I even got a hit in against the Knight! But then there was a terrible roar to my left...

Father Flexmas attacked without mercy; a dark-robed, imposing figure in a featureless white mask, twin blades slashing. I fell beneath his knives wondering where my team had got to. Out of, what, eleven of us? only two had stayed to fight.

I died, but at least it was dramatic. And I'll know better next time. Apparently 'stay and fight' actually means 'run like billy-o'. Who knew?

* A White Knight, for those who haven't attended Zombie LARP, is a fast, strong, intelligent undead monster. Although savage in combat, they are also capable of coming up with strategies (such as keeping poor, stupid survivors occupied while Father Flexmas sneaks up on 'em). They are very scary indeed.

A Very Zombie Xmas

I spent a fantastic day running around a deserted mall on Saturday, fend off the hoardes of the undead. No, really, I'm not making it up.

I had never been to Zombie LARP before (see their site here) and wasn't entirely sure what to expect. I had heard stories, read blogs, but nothing really prepared me for how awesome my day was going to be.

First of all let me tell you about the setting - Friar's Walk Mall in Reading, a derelict shopping centre. I would soon be running through the empty shop units, up and down escalators, through the darkness of the basement... A fantastic venue, really creepy!

We had weapons to defend ourselves against the zombies. Nerf guns of all shapes and sizes, LARP melee weapons, the works. Our favourite was the foam spade, quite satisfying for smacking zombies across the back...




























And fun as it was to play as a survivor, being a zombie was great! There is something empowering about lurching around after terrified survivors, getting knocked down but never for long, monsters at the top of the food chain!

Some friends of mine got into the festive spirit as Santa and Mrs Claws with their elves - disturbing :)



Myself and Stephanie were not as organised as all that, just going for creepy zombie make-up. I was particularly impressed with Stephanie's bleeding eyes...




























All in all a fantastic day - I would heartily recommend booking up for one of these events if you are able to get to Reading. They sometimes run events at different venues (Norwich and London I think) but Friar's Walk Mall is such a great venue it has to be seen to be believed.

Christmas...

Posted this on Facebook. Since I havn't posted anything on here recently I thought I'd share.

A few of my friends have been posting that they are "reclaiming Christmas". It's your faith, more power to you. But in the interest of balance...
Your christmas tree? A nordic pagan symbol of male fertility, just as the wreath represents feminine fertility.
Christmas presents? The giving of gifts is a holdover from Saturnalia, an Ancient Roman festival from around this time of year that predates Christ's birth by over 200 years.
25th December? The date of Christ's birth is never explicitly stated in the bible but historians have narrowed it down to sometime between the end of September and mid-February. Theoretically speaking. Maybe it was easier to hijack the pagan celebration of Yule than to compete with a much older festival?
(Interestingly enough early Christians didn't celebrate birthdays, not even the birth of Christ, considering it to be a pagan custom! Only the Jehovah's Witnesses have stuck to their guns on THAT one.)
So I do know how you feel, having your holy days renamed, plagiarised and subsumed. The same happened to us pagans, by some imported middle-eastern religion as I recall. I forget the name :)

More Pics

This is a character I've been working on for a while - Aurora Surefoot, a shifter druid. The idea for the character was partly inspired by Cheetara from Thundercats.













This is Olivere, a villain I created for my roleplaying game. He was possibly the most hated character in the game - a vindictive, supercilious cross-dressing murderer...

Roleplaying Pictures

Have been doing a few sketches for my roleplaying games.


These two are Jacob and Artur, two of the heroes in my game (and spin-off stories :p) Artur was heir to the throne until his untimely death and his resurrection has remained a secret. Jacob is a young mage with more power than control.




Beliah is Jacob's familiar, a great, white-furred hunting cat.














Colwyn is Jacob's father, a former adventurer with The Golden Gryphons, now owner of a tavern with the same name.

Headache-Ridden Ponderings

Well, I've had a headache for three days now and this morning I felt really rough, so no work for me. I've slept all I can, now I'll catch up on my poor neglected blog.

Litha has come and gone - surprisingly late this year, the 24th of June. The hubby and I had a nice meal to celebrate but did nothing in the way of ritual. We were invited to one but it was outdoors and tipping it down with rain so we didn't go. Does that make us fair-weather pagans? Besides, Keith wasn't too keen to go because the guys holding the ritual seemed 'too tree-huggy'. Go figure.


I have a new hat ready for my Samhain outfit - a proper, handmade, 100% wool top hat! I don't usually suit hats either!


















We've also had a visitor to our garden. I like toads so I'll be sure to keep the cats away...

Ghosts

Do you believe in ghosts?

I do, but I'm not here to convince you. Belief, be it in ghosts and spirits, religion or faith, is an intensely personal matter. So the stories I'll tell here are my experiences from my own point of view. Make of them what you will.

So where to start? My earliest memories of a spirit would make sense. Since I'm thirty-mumbles incoherently now we're going back almost four decades, so some of my recollections may be a little fuzzy.

I don't remember exactly when I first met Beastie, although I was certainly very young. He was (and is) a small child with dark hair and serious eyes, always barefoot, dressed in a striped t-shirt and jeans. I'd guess he looks about four years old. I remember him being something like an imaginary friend to me. Except I'm pretty sure he wasn't (and isn't) imaginary since I'm not the only person to have seen him.

Growing up I had problems with my hearing. I guess that made me a strange, insular child, happier in the company of animals or just keeping to myself, and the years haven't changed me overly much.

I guess that's why Beastie came to me - we were a couple of loners banding together. There may also be a familial connection; my eldest brother was stillborn and my mother has always taken comfort in the thought that Beastie could be him. I'm also willing to admit that I may have made him up (an imaginary friend in all truth), but if that is the case he soon took on a life of his own. I doubt that I will ever know for certain and I can't say that it bothers me overmuch. Beastie is, and that is enough to satisfy my curiosity.

Unlike most imaginary friends Beastie didn't disappear as I grew older. In fact he was most active when I was in my twenties (shades of Drop Dead Fred, although Beastie was never as obnoxious as Rik Mayall). All my friends knew about Beastie, some of them saw him and practically all of them heard him at one time or another. The noise he makes is quite distinctive; somewhere between the tone of a test-card transmission and feedback from speakers, a high-pitched, unwavering hum. We could track his progress around the room by following that sound. One friend was so unnerved by it that he wouldn't stay in my house on his own!

Most often Beastie would make his presence felt when I was angry or upset. He was coming to my defence. Maybe powerful emotions gave him the strength to manifest? Again, the whyfores don't matter all that much to me. I do know that his company brought me a great deal of comfort.

He brought comfort to others, too.

I worked at Madame Tussauds for several years. It is, in my opinion, one of the most haunted sites in London. Even the hardened skeptics on the crew had some kind of paranormal experience that they couldn't quite rationalise. A few of us collected these stories and were considered 'experts', the one-eyed men in the kingdom of the blind. So when a new lad had a spooky experience he was sent to me.

We'll just call him D. He went on to a career in the police force and might not appreciate it if this tale is traced back to him.

So D had been working in the Planetarium theatre. It was a slow day with less than half the seats filled. D was sat at the front of the auditaurium (about as far from the public as possible, naturally) so he was pretty much alone in the darkness.

Dim light reflected from the domed screen, revealing a young child in the seat beside him. D was certain the boy hadn't been there a moment before and he didn't seem to be accompanied by an adult. All the other seats nearby were empty. When he looked back the child had gone.

Guess who the child was? I described Beastie to D and it had definitely been him; the dark hair, striped shirt, bare feet, those serious eyes (thinking back my daughter had the same solemn mein as a child. Perhaps more evidence to a familial link?). It was all a bit of a shock for D who was something of a skeptic, albeit one with an open mind. This wasn't proof, he told me, but an element of doubt.

A few days later D's grandmother died. I strongly believe that Beastie manifested for D to show that there is more to life than our mortal span, that the spirit lives on. And even if he never saw that visit as proof I think it gave D a glimmer of hope in his time of grief. Or maybe I just have a romantic view of the world and a storyteller's desire for everything to fall neatly into place.

As the years passed I saw less and less of Beastie. I'm married now, have a wider circle of friends, a far cry from the lonely child I was. Oh, Beastie still visits from time to time and I know he visits my parents too. Mother often tells me that she has heard him around the house or that he has hidden her things.

Why call him Beastie? I think it was just a childish nickname for a friend without a name. I have considered calling him Mark, the name my parents would have given their stillborn boybut it doesn't seem right, not without knowing for certain that they are one and the same.