Confessions of Childerbert Ingoberger - Session 60

 The following is an IC summary written by Childerbert's player. The usual disclaimer about the intelligibility of Bert's regional accent applies.

 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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 Where wuz Oi? Aye: Miaow’d run through this knickermancer, an’ there wuz Oi, drinking wine wi’ t’other, an’ as we did, Oi ‘eard the most ‘riffic sounds of gasping agonistic breathing from t’other cultists lying bleedin’ out on the floor.  We coulda saved them, if’n Oi’d thought to treat them.  There’s so much death round these parts, it’s hard to keep up an’ do the lady’s work, ye ken?

 So’s, the cultist ‘as to let us, loike, tha’ there were a special prisoner being tortured in the crypt: or some such.  Now, torture bain’t none o’ he lady, every cony knows if it’s still in ‘is skin.  An’ when Miaowee says “Woi shall free the prisoner, and cut gizzard o’ torturer” (as was ‘er way to speak), well then, oi welcomed that like a doe to a buck come the rut.

 Orf we went round t’other an’ which turns o’ the caverns, and lickety split, loike, we wuz at the door o’ the prison: which ol’ Heave Hoe smashes down wi’out e’en checkin’ to see if’twere locked nor nought: oi mean, they brung a locksmith all this way for such things and then bain’t puttin’ ‘im none to use nor loike.  Well, if’n a plaintif voice, loike, calls out fer rescue, an’ ol’ sweet brave Darvin, ee goes rushin’ in loike.

 Now, tis ‘ard, loike, for to say wha’ ‘appened.  Bugger turned to stone, pure an’ simple.  Like a cony in lamp loight, but’ real rock, loike.  Ee shouted “Gordon” ‘fore ee, as Oi can only put it, doid.

 Now, Miriam telt us that this ‘ere Gordon was cursed boi the Gods, or some such things.  Anyone ‘oo looked at a Gordon’s face would be turned to stone.  This Gordon kept on callin’ fer us to go in an’ rescue ‘er, but non-o’ us wanted to get stoned that woi.

 Now, as we wuz debatin’ what to do, we ‘ear’s this uearthly ‘owl, loike, and Oi turns to ‘ear the sound o’ battle.  I steps back, to keep an eye on t’other direction, lest twere a distraction for a wider attack (as we wuz down a dead end tunnel, loike a cornered cony, loike).  An’ oi’ saw the She-Urk, Emmu she’s called, braving the fiery breath o’ what Miria telt us were L ‘ounds.  She dropped an’ broked ‘er beloved axe an’ went all radgee, loike.  But they was all slain, loike.

 They wuz dispatched in good toime, but t’were a reminder tha’ we needed to get our skates on.  See Miaowee an’ ‘Eave-‘o’d bin debatin’ wha’ to do wi’ Gordon.  ‘Eave-‘o waned uz ter free the murderous Gordon: whoile MIaowee’d bin reckonin’ she should be run through.  Well, as compromise, Miaowee offered to go put a sack on Gordon’s ‘ead, an’ offer to rescue ‘er, if she’d be willin’ ter be ‘ooded.

 Now, the Cat, she goes inter the cell, an’ woi ‘ear frightful sounds ‘o scuffle, and out she comes, all a bleed, loike, cox the treach’rous Gordon’d attacked ‘er: ‘pparently they have pet snakes or some such to strike wi’.

 We wuz stuck, bu’ ol’ Childerbert weren’t fer leaving young Darvin behin’, none.  So oi se: Well, ol’ ‘Eave ‘o ‘as a mighty trunk on ‘im, if’n woi put a sack on ‘is ‘ead ‘ee can go in an pick ol’ Darvin up, an’ carry ‘im out ter safety, loike.  Wel, ‘ee did look darft wi’ a bag on h’is big knightly ‘elmet, loike, bu’ in ‘ee goes, an’ Eave! Old ‘Eave ‘o lifts up what must o’ bin an ‘alf ton o’ rock in Darvin shape, and plonks it in the corridor.

 ‘Ee were gaspin’, loike, and young Childerbert sets ‘is mind a thinkin’, we can’t carry this lump o’ stone back ‘long the corridors an’ up stairs.  Then oi thinks: back where woi slew the knickermancers: thar were beds ‘an bedding: we could fashion a trellis o’ sorts, an’ drag ‘im ‘long floor.  So’s oi telt moi companions ‘bout the time moi an’ a couple o’ the Long Mopsey boys: the cousin, ‘twere, Noldo an Giggleswoth, ‘d bin out borrowin’, an’ woi’d borrowed this safe, loike, a great steel chest.  Well, woi’d ‘ad to drag I’ ‘long the floor, couldn’t non-o’ uz lift it none.  Reckon ‘Eave’o coulda picked it.

 Well, loike cutting the cony gut short as need must, that’s wha’ woi did, loike.  Loaded poor Darvin’s statue onter our quick rigged trellis, using the strangely strong robes o’ the knickermancers to tie it up.

 We got Darvin out o’ the caves, an’ dragged ‘im inter the twisted wood nearboi.  Then Worry-on got out this scroll, loike, an’ starts a chantin’ an’ a pantin’ some sort o’ mystic malarkey, while oi kept watch.  This took about two hours: but thanks to the Lady o’ loife ‘erself, woi got our Darvin back.

 Well, truth be told, we wuz all wore out now, an’ reckoned tha’ woi’d best go back to the keep an’ rest up.  Woi ‘ad ter do it: but oi worry tha’ forewarned is fore-armed, an’ the rest o’ the knickermancers moight well prepare fer our return, wi’ more guards an gates an barricades, an’ the loike.  Coming back moiht not be so easy the second toime. Oi pointed this out, an’ said: now we knew t’were knickermancers, an the one we’d freed, height Sandra, ‘d telt us tha’ the plan were ter steal the keys, so woi ‘ad intelligence woi could take back.

 Darvin an Miaowee both reckoned smashin’ the cult ‘ere were the best way to foil their plan: an’ reckon they were probably roight in reckoning so: bu oi ‘ae misgivings: tacklin’ these knickermancers b’ain’t loike slaying urks: these buggers come back, an’ we left ‘em three fresh cadavers, loike, ter throw at us.