Premieres at 4pm (UK time, the clue’s in the name).
England’s Dreaming
In 1890, an unregistered cargo ship sank off the coast of Kingsport in mysterious and unaccounted for circumstances.
Over the years, esoteric flotsam and jetsam made its way to the shore, infusing the seaside city with the strange. The people have learned to cope because they have to. They’ve learned to look the other way, not to ask questions and most importantly, to not get involved.
They push on with their lives – working their jobs, watching TV and eating the great British Chinese Takeaway.
All the while, the notion that their lives have become linked to primal machinations from beyond time worms its way into the back of their thoughts. This idea spreads like a virus, eroding the stability of the mind, triggering obsession and insanity in its wake.
Other people see it differently.
Things have been getting worse for a long time. People have been left to rot, abandoned by institutions built to protect them. The old rules no longer apply; nothing is true, everything is permitted. From the chaos, a new wave of Punk Occultism emerges.
Fixers, players, sages, traders in the game – a network of characters formed in hushed conversations at taverns or chance connections in the grotty bathrooms of an underground music venue. With a scene comes rivalries, tensions, betrayals – always stepping carefully, Rae Armitage, the voidweaver, walks above them all.
Shaun Milton has the Necronomicon.
Someone should do something about that.