Confessions of Childerbert Ingoberger - Session 53
The following is an IC summary written by Bert's player. I make no claims to intelligibility of Childerbert's regional accent, but his manner of speech is as entertaining as ever.
As usual, I am giving +1 CP for those players that submit a summary for me to post here on the blog.
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So, Ol’ Darvin, ee ‘as a plan: an’ he’s sleek as a stoat in a coney’s skin is that boy. What ‘ee reckoned was we bides our time, leave the door nailed shut as ol’ Childerbert ‘ad left it, and then, goes rushin’ in with a fizz an a bang. Ol’ Yvor, ‘ee’s a bonnie likely strapping lad, an’ he stood over me, all ripplin’ in’s armour an’ the like, ‘ee were to be the first in, an’ smash any waiting nobbleobbles out o’ the way: meanwhile, old Miaoee, she were getting all ferzackerly and’ fritzy feisty waitin’ behind Yvormeister. She weren’t gonna be first in this time.
So’s Oi opened the door, and chucked the light stone in far’s Oi could, then run in after, ducking inta the shadows, just as a rain of bolts come whizzing at us. Well, call me a coney’s uncle: if there b’ain’t three nobbledobbles waitin’ in the same shadow. Well, Oi gets ter grips with them, them swinging their ruddy great ‘ackers an me running in and grabbing at them like a coney wi’ ‘is skin on fire. Yvor came thundering In after, an Oi drew their ire while ‘ee started a chopping and a stropping wi’ ‘is great yard o’ steel. I got such a thwack on moi arm Oi fell back some, thinking it’s time for some stoning an less wrastling.
Ol’ Miao, well, she’d got ‘er wish and ran on in, straight inter a bolt: Oi’ve never seen ‘er step back ‘fore, an’ me ‘eart stopped ter see it, ‘er tail fair fell between ‘er legs: not so proud now. The rest rushed in an’ fair Sister ‘erself set to ter bless Miaoee an’ return ‘er ter the fray. Poor Warrian took a bolt too, an’ that fair put the skeevers on me: woi need ‘im ter do the fixing: oo will ‘eal the ‘ealers, thought Oi.
Oi stayed at moi post, loadin’ stone while young Llandiddllior rushed in loosing arrers like some sort o’ god o’ the bow itself: there’d not be a coney left in ‘is field come the end o’ the skinny if ‘ee were on the scran. Yvor got stuck in, defending Mace, ‘oo got in a few beauties issel’, an downed a big plug ugly Obbuglyun.
Lassy Miao found ‘er breath, an’ she started skittering an’ skatterin’ lookin’ fer an obble to nobble. The Obbs’d loosed all their bows an’ were running out in fearful ranks – wi’ more emerging from the darkness - but they was all cut down till the last o’ them, a big brute were surrounded and run through by Iyvor, as ‘ee tried to noble Lanny. It died stabbed, slashed an’ shot wi’ arrer. Nasty brute ‘ee were.
It were over, Darvin went orf to scout ‘head, whoile Oi set to doing me job looting corpses, apparently. Found some purses, which Oi anded o’er ter Jenkins for the company fund: but Oi found a pretty sparkle bracelet which Oi thought might get ol’ Bert a pint an’ a dinner down the tavern, so Oi kept that fer me. It did sparkle, so.
I also found a key, which lucky fer us fitted both the locks o’ the room, so’s we could secure ourselves ter rest a while. I also took a look around the room an’ found nought but babbies toys an’ bedding.
We’ve as good as orphaned those brutes: if they live they’ll come for revenge, an’ we’ll deserve it.
Then, we set ourselves, what do we do next: do we go on, or goes ‘ome wi’ the pocket change of 20 dead ‘obbles in our purses. Fer all we’ve done an’ seen, it seems a poor return. If they’ve been a raiding an’ a trading, where’s their loot, is what Oi thinks. An’ where’s this cult we’s supposed to be putting stop to?
As usual, I am giving +1 CP for those players that submit a summary for me to post here on the blog.
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So’s Oi opened the door, and chucked the light stone in far’s Oi could, then run in after, ducking inta the shadows, just as a rain of bolts come whizzing at us. Well, call me a coney’s uncle: if there b’ain’t three nobbledobbles waitin’ in the same shadow. Well, Oi gets ter grips with them, them swinging their ruddy great ‘ackers an me running in and grabbing at them like a coney wi’ ‘is skin on fire. Yvor came thundering In after, an Oi drew their ire while ‘ee started a chopping and a stropping wi’ ‘is great yard o’ steel. I got such a thwack on moi arm Oi fell back some, thinking it’s time for some stoning an less wrastling.
Ol’ Miao, well, she’d got ‘er wish and ran on in, straight inter a bolt: Oi’ve never seen ‘er step back ‘fore, an’ me ‘eart stopped ter see it, ‘er tail fair fell between ‘er legs: not so proud now. The rest rushed in an’ fair Sister ‘erself set to ter bless Miaoee an’ return ‘er ter the fray. Poor Warrian took a bolt too, an’ that fair put the skeevers on me: woi need ‘im ter do the fixing: oo will ‘eal the ‘ealers, thought Oi.
Oi stayed at moi post, loadin’ stone while young Llandiddllior rushed in loosing arrers like some sort o’ god o’ the bow itself: there’d not be a coney left in ‘is field come the end o’ the skinny if ‘ee were on the scran. Yvor got stuck in, defending Mace, ‘oo got in a few beauties issel’, an downed a big plug ugly Obbuglyun.
Lassy Miao found ‘er breath, an’ she started skittering an’ skatterin’ lookin’ fer an obble to nobble. The Obbs’d loosed all their bows an’ were running out in fearful ranks – wi’ more emerging from the darkness - but they was all cut down till the last o’ them, a big brute were surrounded and run through by Iyvor, as ‘ee tried to noble Lanny. It died stabbed, slashed an’ shot wi’ arrer. Nasty brute ‘ee were.
It were over, Darvin went orf to scout ‘head, whoile Oi set to doing me job looting corpses, apparently. Found some purses, which Oi anded o’er ter Jenkins for the company fund: but Oi found a pretty sparkle bracelet which Oi thought might get ol’ Bert a pint an’ a dinner down the tavern, so Oi kept that fer me. It did sparkle, so.
I also found a key, which lucky fer us fitted both the locks o’ the room, so’s we could secure ourselves ter rest a while. I also took a look around the room an’ found nought but babbies toys an’ bedding.
We’ve as good as orphaned those brutes: if they live they’ll come for revenge, an’ we’ll deserve it.
Then, we set ourselves, what do we do next: do we go on, or goes ‘ome wi’ the pocket change of 20 dead ‘obbles in our purses. Fer all we’ve done an’ seen, it seems a poor return. If they’ve been a raiding an’ a trading, where’s their loot, is what Oi thinks. An’ where’s this cult we’s supposed to be putting stop to?
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