Confessions of Childerbert Ingoberger - Session 77
We've played a few games since I last posted a summary. I've fallen behind on writing up the sessions. I have a few queued up from one of my players, and I'll post these over the weekend.
The following account is by Bert; an IC summary of the session played 2020/08/20. I give +1 character point (XP) for those players who submit a summary for me to post here on the blog.
The usual disclaimer about the intelligibility of Bert's regional accent applies.
The following account is by Bert; an IC summary of the session played 2020/08/20. I give +1 character point (XP) for those players who submit a summary for me to post here on the blog.
The usual disclaimer about the intelligibility of Bert's regional accent applies.
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Confessions of Childerbert Ingoberger, the Deceiver
Woi formed up, under the sage advoice o’ Whyfore, reckoning woi wuz facing a charge boi the cavalry. Woi formed up in two rows, wi’ Miaowee, Whyfore an’ the giant I’ the front, an’ me an Jenkins on one flank, an’ Sailor on’ t’other wi’ Darvin I’ the air. Woi all stood protecting the body o’ Moo. The plan war to stop ‘em being able ter o’errun two o’ us at once wi’ same ‘orse charge, an’ ter force ‘em ter split up thar attacks. We wuz spaced, but still close ‘nough ter ‘sist each other.
Thar war a tension I’ the air: Miaowee arsked if’n oi knew any dirty songs. So’s naturally Oi gave a rendition o’ the Bucky the Buck but only managed three verses. Thoi never got to foind art wha’ Bucky loiked ter do. Nor whoi ‘is arse were magic. Again, the foe drew up at a distance, wi’ shoutin’ an’ chantin’. An’ this toime, thoi decided to draw up wi’ archers. So’s oi sayed ter Darvy: bain’t ee not got a way ter raise up some sort o’ spooky smoke, loike?
So, tha’s wha’ ee did, all swirly an’ smoky loike, an’ so thar arrers missed wi’out something ter aim at: thar were plenty o’ tham, though, enough ter block out the sun: so woi ‘ad ter foight i’ the dark. The Gianter called the arrer tha’ struck ‘im a “toothpick”. One larnded an inch or so from moi: certainly didn’t look loike no tooth pick, less gianters use picks one yard long.
Darvy boy shouted out thar war some score o’ tham on foot, an’ more on ‘orse. Miaowee shouted out tha’ our only choices were forward nor back: woi ‘ad a choice. Shoi were chaffing under the ‘ail o’ arrers: but Whyfore, ‘ee boomed out ter ‘old our ground: an’ ‘is voice war sonorous an’ commanding, loike, ‘ee inspired confidence in’s. Woi ‘eld our ground. Foive volleys o’ arrers swept o’er’s. Woi’ll no’ break: because we are the champions, moi friend, an’ we’ll keep on foightin’ ter the end. Woi are the champions, woi are the champions: no toime fer losers, coz woi are the champions o’ the world.
Darvin troid ter boi us some time wi’ a ‘lusion o’ us runnin’ fer cover behind some bushes, but oi don’t think thoi bought tha.
Miaowee reminisced o’er Llandour, at first oi thought she war just thinkin’ o’ ol’ friends, but actually, she war makn’ the point: thoi’ll soon run out o’ arrers an’ come to collect the ones thoi’ve loosed. Old Sailor took a scratch fram an arrer, bu’ ‘ee said ‘ee war foine. Darvin changed ‘is smoke inter some sort o’ black screens: that war kind o’ disturbing: squares o’ darkness ‘idin’ the approach o’ the foe.
Oi could see ‘em comin’, seein’s ‘ow Oi wuz formed up o’ the flank, wi’ moi sling ready ter gi’ ‘em it between the oiyes. Oi shouted art as oi saw the host a’ moving: ‘ere thoi come! Oi sharted.
The screens fell.
An’ on’ thoi came, Vulgars, sir, dozens o’ tham.
Jenkin’s scored first blood wi’s crossbow, ‘ee war boi moi soide, bu’ oi waited, ‘olding moi fire, till oi could see the whoite’s o’ thar oiyes. As thoi rushed us – thoi war farst – Oi loosed a stone: an’ the bugger dodged, an’ than ‘ee attacked Jenkins. Fram the corner o’ moi oiyes, oi saw Sailor loight up’s staff wi’ sparky an’ stun a Vulgar wi’it. Whyfore smote’s foe, destroying tha bugger’s shield coz it got in’s way. Miaowee leapt inter the fray, stabbing two, slaying one. She threaded ‘er sword through them loike a seemstress at her needle work.
Woi wuz soon foighting o’er a poile o’ cadavers an’ wounded men: but now thar cavalry rode up, gentle as ye loike, cantering round us whoile the infantry ‘eld up our front. Darvin troid slowin’ ‘em down wi’s bombs, an’ some war stunned: but thar were too many.
The giant smote some vulgars wi’s massive club: but thar were too many fer ‘im, an’ ‘ee stepped back, covered in gashes, clearly ‘urt.
Oi stepped up an’ grabbed the guy attacking Jenkins: ‘ee dragged moi fram the loine, whoile Oi ‘eld onter ter ‘is leg, improving moi grip along the way.
Sailor war charged down boi the lead ‘orseman. ‘ee parried the roider’s sword, but war knocked dahn an’ trampled boi the ‘orse: leavin’ ‘im a bloody mess o’ the floor: Darvin spookied ‘im inter the air, ter get ‘im out o’ further ‘arms way.
‘Nother horse charged down old ‘Eave’oe: incredibly, this legend o’ a man bashed it wi’s shield, an’ deflected the charge, whoile parrying the ‘orseman’s lance, disarming ‘im. ‘Ee is truly an awesome warrior.
Despite Miaowee troyin’ ter protect Worrying, ‘ee got smote an’ fell.
As oi’ grappled moi foe, ‘nother cowardly cur o’ a vulgar came an’ stabbed moi i’ the back: oi can stand tall an’ ‘old moi own in a foight, but young Childerbert ‘ee bain’t not unable fer not foighting no two ‘nothers not at once. As oi wuz struck, oi fell ter the floor, playin’ dead: if’n thoi coup de graced moi, thoi coup de graced moi, thar war nothin’ oi could do in no case. Mercifully, fer now, thoi left moi: the wound war quite bad, so oi’ll’ve looked dead or dying ‘nough.
Oi don’t know ‘ow oi keep getting moiself in these scrapes, oi really don’t: Oi guess, Oi do it to moiself, an’ that’s whoi it really ‘urts, so oi do it ter moiself, jus’ moi, an’ no-one else: oi do it ter moiself.
That left us wi Miaoee and Whyfore stood back ter back next ter the gianter, an’ Darvin I’ the air, strained an’ ‘sausted – an’ don’t arske moi ow oi knows this, ‘gainst foive (out o’ the original twenty) footmen an’ eleven cavalry.
It’s probably too late fer moi, but Oi just think moi frieds should run to the hills, run for your loives. Run to the hills. Run for your loives.
Lady save us.
Thar war a tension I’ the air: Miaowee arsked if’n oi knew any dirty songs. So’s naturally Oi gave a rendition o’ the Bucky the Buck but only managed three verses. Thoi never got to foind art wha’ Bucky loiked ter do. Nor whoi ‘is arse were magic. Again, the foe drew up at a distance, wi’ shoutin’ an’ chantin’. An’ this toime, thoi decided to draw up wi’ archers. So’s oi sayed ter Darvy: bain’t ee not got a way ter raise up some sort o’ spooky smoke, loike?
So, tha’s wha’ ee did, all swirly an’ smoky loike, an’ so thar arrers missed wi’out something ter aim at: thar were plenty o’ tham, though, enough ter block out the sun: so woi ‘ad ter foight i’ the dark. The Gianter called the arrer tha’ struck ‘im a “toothpick”. One larnded an inch or so from moi: certainly didn’t look loike no tooth pick, less gianters use picks one yard long.
Darvy boy shouted out thar war some score o’ tham on foot, an’ more on ‘orse. Miaowee shouted out tha’ our only choices were forward nor back: woi ‘ad a choice. Shoi were chaffing under the ‘ail o’ arrers: but Whyfore, ‘ee boomed out ter ‘old our ground: an’ ‘is voice war sonorous an’ commanding, loike, ‘ee inspired confidence in’s. Woi ‘eld our ground. Foive volleys o’ arrers swept o’er’s. Woi’ll no’ break: because we are the champions, moi friend, an’ we’ll keep on foightin’ ter the end. Woi are the champions, woi are the champions: no toime fer losers, coz woi are the champions o’ the world.
Darvin troid ter boi us some time wi’ a ‘lusion o’ us runnin’ fer cover behind some bushes, but oi don’t think thoi bought tha.
Miaowee reminisced o’er Llandour, at first oi thought she war just thinkin’ o’ ol’ friends, but actually, she war makn’ the point: thoi’ll soon run out o’ arrers an’ come to collect the ones thoi’ve loosed. Old Sailor took a scratch fram an arrer, bu’ ‘ee said ‘ee war foine. Darvin changed ‘is smoke inter some sort o’ black screens: that war kind o’ disturbing: squares o’ darkness ‘idin’ the approach o’ the foe.
Oi could see ‘em comin’, seein’s ‘ow Oi wuz formed up o’ the flank, wi’ moi sling ready ter gi’ ‘em it between the oiyes. Oi shouted art as oi saw the host a’ moving: ‘ere thoi come! Oi sharted.
The screens fell.
An’ on’ thoi came, Vulgars, sir, dozens o’ tham.
Jenkin’s scored first blood wi’s crossbow, ‘ee war boi moi soide, bu’ oi waited, ‘olding moi fire, till oi could see the whoite’s o’ thar oiyes. As thoi rushed us – thoi war farst – Oi loosed a stone: an’ the bugger dodged, an’ than ‘ee attacked Jenkins. Fram the corner o’ moi oiyes, oi saw Sailor loight up’s staff wi’ sparky an’ stun a Vulgar wi’it. Whyfore smote’s foe, destroying tha bugger’s shield coz it got in’s way. Miaowee leapt inter the fray, stabbing two, slaying one. She threaded ‘er sword through them loike a seemstress at her needle work.
Woi wuz soon foighting o’er a poile o’ cadavers an’ wounded men: but now thar cavalry rode up, gentle as ye loike, cantering round us whoile the infantry ‘eld up our front. Darvin troid slowin’ ‘em down wi’s bombs, an’ some war stunned: but thar were too many.
The giant smote some vulgars wi’s massive club: but thar were too many fer ‘im, an’ ‘ee stepped back, covered in gashes, clearly ‘urt.
Oi stepped up an’ grabbed the guy attacking Jenkins: ‘ee dragged moi fram the loine, whoile Oi ‘eld onter ter ‘is leg, improving moi grip along the way.
Sailor war charged down boi the lead ‘orseman. ‘ee parried the roider’s sword, but war knocked dahn an’ trampled boi the ‘orse: leavin’ ‘im a bloody mess o’ the floor: Darvin spookied ‘im inter the air, ter get ‘im out o’ further ‘arms way.
‘Nother horse charged down old ‘Eave’oe: incredibly, this legend o’ a man bashed it wi’s shield, an’ deflected the charge, whoile parrying the ‘orseman’s lance, disarming ‘im. ‘Ee is truly an awesome warrior.
Despite Miaowee troyin’ ter protect Worrying, ‘ee got smote an’ fell.
As oi’ grappled moi foe, ‘nother cowardly cur o’ a vulgar came an’ stabbed moi i’ the back: oi can stand tall an’ ‘old moi own in a foight, but young Childerbert ‘ee bain’t not unable fer not foighting no two ‘nothers not at once. As oi wuz struck, oi fell ter the floor, playin’ dead: if’n thoi coup de graced moi, thoi coup de graced moi, thar war nothin’ oi could do in no case. Mercifully, fer now, thoi left moi: the wound war quite bad, so oi’ll’ve looked dead or dying ‘nough.
Oi don’t know ‘ow oi keep getting moiself in these scrapes, oi really don’t: Oi guess, Oi do it to moiself, an’ that’s whoi it really ‘urts, so oi do it ter moiself, jus’ moi, an’ no-one else: oi do it ter moiself.
That left us wi Miaoee and Whyfore stood back ter back next ter the gianter, an’ Darvin I’ the air, strained an’ ‘sausted – an’ don’t arske moi ow oi knows this, ‘gainst foive (out o’ the original twenty) footmen an’ eleven cavalry.
It’s probably too late fer moi, but Oi just think moi frieds should run to the hills, run for your loives. Run to the hills. Run for your loives.
Lady save us.
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