There is a faux-English “pub” that has operated for decades under various names and ownerships, although it never remains profitable for long. Something about the place fills normal people with unease. The echoes are of no concern to those that know they exist and are prepared. To ensure your safety in the pub, bring with you a solution dandelion and lemon grass, about a half-litre’s worth (Thanks Jess!) the solution will repel any existential or psychic hazards.
The Pub remains solidly uninteresting for
most of the day, but around closing practitioners and acolytes begin to filter
in. The owner remains in the back room, unwilling or unable to mingle amongst
his unusual patrons. In a show of deference, the most recent owner replaced all
of the steak-knives with black-handled alternatives. The Pub is a meeting place
and focal point of the local Community. The Pub’s echoes remain a mystery despite
its closeness to The Community. Despite decades of patronage, no one is able to
determine the cause of the echoes, or why drowned bodies appear in the restrooms
and kitchen after closing only to vanish in the morning.
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