Adventurer, Hero of the Empire, Genius, Mastermind, and Fashionably Stylish.... 

Founder member of the Flying Corps of Steampunk Rocketeers, and creator of the MAD-Ts  display team.

https://www.facebook.com/Flamestrike/videos/10152693255789726?idorvanity=203286583181852

Marcus, The Air Marshal, Brookes,(and occasional Traditional Father Christmas), has been a member of the Steampunk scene since before he knew there was a scene.

He has actively been attending wherever he feels welcome since 2009.

Despite being charming, personable and occasionally larger than life when comfortable, he carries a dark secret.

The secret is he only ever wanted to be on the back row muttering Rhubarb Rhubarb in a convincingly conversational way.

Why... Oh why won't people just let him Rhubarb! When pushed, he introduces himself as a Rouge, Charmer and Gentleman in that order.

Do not agree to do anything this man asks of you.

Tanya Feasey is a founder member of the Steampunks of Gloucestershire.

She works as a Countryside Ranger and therefore gets access to some quality fly tip which has been Steampunked into various objects by other group members over the years.

She also performs dirty poetry that people seem to like.

The combination of quality fly tip and dirty poetry seems to have endeared Tanya to the group.

Aka; The Dead Squirrel Lady.

Some say they are born of fairy blood, others that they are a changeling, all we know for sure is Josiah does not belong in the mundane world, but they are here and we have to deal with them.

Josiah has been known to shapeshift into a fox, rumour has it they recently spotted transforming into a dragon.

When Josiah gets too mischievous in these forms the Cotswold Hobby Horse Hunt are called upon to track him down and set him straight.

After a spell at a London University they gained a wide knowledge of visual arts and how it can manipulate people.

The same interest extended to words and now Josiah will tie you up with your own tounge encouraging you to say what you mean and mean what you say for the twain are not the same.

This is 1L, not to be confused with 2Ls. One half of The Bone Keepers....that's a job description, not a band!

An unorthodox childhood has left her with a skewed look on life, and she is often found giggling at the wrong moment!

A practitioner in the arcane art of pointy sticks and string, she will bestow gifts if she thinks you are worthy.

An advocate for the Division of Domestic Labour, lives in the optimistic hope that the Fam will realise that domestic appliances are not Mother Operate Only!!!!

When our Coven sister touched down on her broom in Gloucester, naturally there was trepidation from some quarters and outright panic in others.

Sima insists that she practices the Craft in a manner that benefits those who deserve it and gives pause for thought in those who thoroughly deserve being hexed. Her personal favourites in this regard are a discharging pilonidal sinus or amoebic dysentery, so do be careful not to cross her. It’ll cost you a fortune in toilet paper.

She’s easily spotted  - bird’s nest hair and ubiquitous pointy hat. Or just follow the screaming. It’s usually the parents when she’s handing out spiders to younglings.

The volunteers at the Cathedral are especially nervous of her. Unfortunate, since she’s determined to set up residence in the gothic cloisters, but they can’t keep her out.

Sima is also an enthusiastic pirate. Whatever she rocks up as, there’s weaponry. She’s known to have the tolerance levels of an incandescently angry porcupine most of the time, however she’s also found actively recruiting potential coglings to get involved in creating things.

We think she secretly loves kids – but we’ve never seen her eat a whole one.

The Illuminated One, Tom Brown, master of the Dust cat, drinks tea when there is no coffee to be had.

He gets paper dirty professionally and sings professionally, sometimes.

Boxing and Ukulele are among his areas of study at present.

He is partly responsible for the Hopeless, Maine series and can be seen wandering the hills of the Cotswolds at odd times (occasionally falling into pubs entirely by accident).

Mark Hayes was born in Yorkshire on the same day Julius Caesar was murdered, although it was in fairness 1926 years later, and he is fairly sure the two events were unrelated.

Why he feels the need to mention the assassination of the great Roman tyrant when he talks about his birthday no one knows, including himself. It’s just become a weird little habit, and because mentioning Banana Daiquiri in bio’s was already taken by another, far more successful writer with a knighthood.

Which is also why he avoids wearing a fedora though in all honesty he vastly prefers a top hat anyway. Mark now lives in Teesside, just across the river from his native homeland near a reasonably famous bird sanctuary he never visits.

He shares his house with too many guitars he can’t play and the ghost of a black n white cat called Boomer who liked to stop him typing by leaping on his lap and demanding attention.

When not writing mildly bizarre bio’s in the third person because he always finds these things a little weird to write, he writes novels. Or does between holding down a full-time job, doing promotion work for books (occasionally his own), writing blog posts, trying to ignore social media, obsessing about social media, trying not to get dragged into things on social media, fighting the urge to rant about something on social media, and generally deciding we would all be better with a bit less social media in our lives as it has become an ever more that abusive relationship we all pretend we’re not in…

In essence he is a Writer and a messy, complicated sort of entity, quantum pagan, occasional weregoth who knows where his spoon is, do you? http://linktr.ee/mark_hayes

Things started to go wrong for Marc when he met a strange man at the Folk one day, who showed him a shiny thing with lots of cogs and dials and asked, “Have you ever heard of Steampunk?”

Since that fateful meeting, Marc has been trapped in a temporal vortex limited to himself. He often suddenly and unexpectedly appears and disappears in and around the Folk building with no warning. Much like the White Rabbit but not furry and without the ears. Often in a hurried and slightly befuddled state and muttering to himself about Time Lords, Dismantling the Tardis, Festivals, Lego and the apocalyptic sounding Apple Day. 

He is also heard to cry out something about  “The Trustees," possibly some ancient neither world beings which he seems to be in some indentured service to.

In a desperate attempt to save himself by changing the past, Marc managed to travel back in time. Unfortunately he overshot by a few years, roughly 160 years in fact, and due to ‘continental drift’ ended up at the Battle of Gettysburg. Whereupon, in an act of incredible bravery, he saved the life of a hapless soldier. Fortunately it turned out to be his great great grandpappy, Alexander Zebedee Waters, who in previous timelines had died in the service of the Confederate Army. Alexander's military career came about by accident because he joined the wrong queue at the job centre.

Alexander Zebedee Waters went on to live a long and happy life of adventures, dying at the age of 101, with 27 children and 213 grandchildren. In saving his own great great grandpappy Marc only managed to compound his temporal displacement.

With only this cherished photograph as proof of his adventures, Marc returned to the present and has seemingly resigned himself to his indisposition.

Oh, and if he asks a favour... say no.