What is known as an intermittent umbralite, she spends most of her time as a harmless, albeit very grouchy, old woman. But at least once a year, on the fateful night of Halloween, the dark power within her breaks through and she takes up her moth-eaten parasol and stalks the streets hunting chocolate (her doctors have strictly forbidden her from touching the stuff). Furthermore, due to the “Uncle Fred Effect,” her impact on the universe during this time is somewhat more pronounced than that of most umbralites. Everything roughly within a quarter-mile radius of her turns inexplicably Gothic.
Often called the Lady of Dust, she is one of the most accomplished haunters of the modern era. Something of an outrider to the League, she keeps to herself and her own errands. She is seen but rarely, most times in people’s attics. In fact, it was recently established that she was the original inspiration for the fabled Decrepit Curtains Spirit. She is also the only umbralite to become universally hated by the demented cleaning ladies, mostly due to her somewhat inconvenient effect on her surroundings.
The greatest hoodlum smiter of the 1960s; in a time when umbralites were beset on all sides by a seemingly never-ending flow of crazed young people, she brought the fear of the venerable decrepit back into many hearts. Even though she was wheelchair-ridden, she set out on a crusade to do battle with the dark alchemy that is the internal combustion engine, and armed with her patio umbrella, became a rolling night terror of the streets. She is, in fact, the original source for the expression, “tilting at drag racers,” which roughly means, “to serve the good of one’s fellow man because it is fun.”
A renowned archeologist and medievalist, he stumbled upon the fact of League’s existence while pursuing his pet project, namely, the Holy Grail. The League was impressed by his natural talent and asked him to join; in return, they offered what information they had about Lord Couch’s involvement in that ancient quest. It was through his tracing of League history that the good doctor finally found the Grail, but it is for his later discoveries that he is honored by the greater portion of the Umbralites.
He is most remembered for his discovery of the so-called “Swan Crypt,” an incalculably ancient, subterranean, burial structure. Within, he found the preserved bodies of over seventy individuals, apparently hailing from before the Middle Ages. The crypt was found to be the final resting place for all those who had fallowed Lobelia Sackville-Baggins in the years before the League. These tombs housed many items of great historical import including the Umbrella of Westerness itself. Furthermore, a detailed study of the bodies showed that Lobelia was not among them; this was hailed as sufficient evidence to validify the idea that the Sixth Istar was indeed still alive.
Perhaps the most powerful and mysterious umbralite in history, she simply breezed in one day and assumed leadership of the League. She bested the dire parrot Phooter and imprisoned his soul within her umbrella, bringing the psittacines back into their old alliances. She addressed the deteriorating power of governesses by instituting the Order of the Nannies to combat the spread of demon children. Her list of exploits, both confirmed and rumored, is truly vast.
Her origins are the source of endless contention and debate within scholarly circles, with varying degrees of productiveness. The notion that she is, in fact, the Sixth Istar returned in another form, was met with much discussion, but quickly deteriorated into a five-month long argument over whether or not Lobelia could actually do that.
A detailed analysis of her powers and abilities has lead to the tentatively accepted theory that she was a duel apprentice; the product of an alliance between Lobelia Sackville-Baggins and John Uskglass, sent to take leadership of the League in the Istar’s place and safeguard England.
Her real name is unknown, as are her origins. She was called “St. Paul’s Sentinel” by the local washerwomen, and “the Heart of London” by the vagrantory element. The only name she gave the League was “The Bird Woman.” In respect to all of which, the Avatar is recorded as remarking, “They all work in their own way, though the official version is more to the point. The first merely implies that she sits on the cathedral steps all day doing nothing in particular, which she does but that’s not the point. The second is a technically accurate, but misleading, metaphor. Unless, of course, it was made by someone with a separate circulatory system for their platelets, which they might, you never can tell.”
His unaccountable fixation with the principals of extra-aerodynamic flight resulted in many raised eyebrows over the years. For the most part considered a harmless eccentric by his colleagues at Oxford, he was mostly ignored by the scholarly world, which had learned early on that getting into technical conversations was injurious to one’s mental balance.
His research led him to be one of the few individuals to discover the League under their own power. Having found a community that not only found him to be a rather normal addition to the scenery, but also took for granted many of the principles his work advocated, his productivity escalated. Within a year he had successfully modified a small schooner with airborne capabilities. In two years, he took charge of the League’s maritime collection and founded his own company. Work at Darling Shipyards continues to this day.
More often referred to as “the deacon’s wife;” an accomplished organist, dove breeder, chemist, and haberdasher, she was known chiefly by her reputation within her congregation. No one ever really bothered to remember her actual name; the one given to posterity is, in fact, a chimera formed out of people’s best guesses.
Perhaps the most prolific destroyer of the undead since Edna Weatherspindle, her habit of donning her spectral, flaming Pentecost bonnet and stalking the London streets in search of vampires was well known. “Our churchyards are untidy enough as it is,” was her most common remark on the subject, though she was also a firm believer in the practice of running through anyone you caught climbing through young ladies’ bedroom windows.
Though most of her exploits are now forgotten by the world at large, her mutant, flame-resistant, incendiary doves live on in ecclesiastical artwork to this day.