Confessions of Childerbert Ingoberger - Session 79

 The following account is by Bert; an IC summary of the session played 2020/08/27. 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 Convalescent

 Oi can tell’ee twere uncomfortable as hell ‘self, jiggering along in that cart ‘long rutted country lanes, till woi came ter the next village.  Foive o’ us war poiled in, unable ter walk: Moo, Jenkins, Warian, Sailor an’ moi.  At least thoi were unconscious, oi lay under the sun, gettin’ thrown around feeling every inch o’ the gash in moi shoulder, ‘olding on ter stop the bleeding, experiencing every minute o’ it awake.  Tis a memory oi’ll take ter the grave – a’ oi’ll tell the Lady all ‘bout it, e’en if’n she knows already ready, but shoi’ll ‘ear it from moi anywoi.

 Now, oi gots ter thinking in that cart.  See, oi bain’t been a cony all moi loife.  Oi’ve been a malkin: cony’s thoi burrows together but malkins don’t, thoi live solo: till the March tide, than thoi come in droves radgee thick an foightin’ mard.  Now oi’ve a drove, an’ righteous radgee woi’ve been an’ foightin’ mard: an’ muckle profitable woi’ve boin two.  Oi don’ want this ter end whan we’ve finishd our business wi’ the nickermancers whan we return ter marsh ‘all: thar’s more money ter be found i’ the world together.  This is moi March, moi spring o’ loife.

 But our drove lacks business: an’ it lacks the fluence.  Ye need business an’ fluence ter really prosper, loike the guilds whan poor Childerbert were dragged before the fluent an’ found’self all tongue toid an’ mocked whoile they cused and peached ‘im.  Moightn’t fluence’ve soived us fram the Vulgar?  Fluence an’ larnin’: Darvin is smart and knowly : but ‘is kenning is spookery.  Woi need a kennin’ o’ the fluence.

 Now, ‘ventually, woi comes ter the village an’ the inn.  The inn war the Arfling & Gobllyun, wi’ a sign o’ the Gobblyun stranglin’ the Arfling.  Now, oi ken the song, an’ twarnt’s neck the gobblyun war chokin’ i’ the version oi ‘eard.

 Darvin went ‘head, and booked us all in at 6/- fer four rooms twin us all fer the noight.  Oi were whacked wi’ Jenkins, Moo and Miaowee tergether, Sailor an’ Darvin tergether an’ Worrying (who war in a worrisome state) wi’ Whyfore.  Twar a goodly inn, an’ much o’ its sort: an’ more’n oi’d’ve bin able ter stay at before. The walls war thin, so oi could ‘ear the going’s on, as oi lay in moi bed.

 See, woi’d’ve bin alroight, but fer Worrying being so deathly.  Darvin scranned a scroll fram Worrying’s bag, an’ cast an ‘eally spooky on ‘im: an’ oi parsed through moi ‘ealin’ liquor: an’ tergether thoi bain’t plentiful ‘nough ter bring ‘im barck ‘ee war so smote.  Oi suggested someone run back ter Looknow, seein’ as ‘twas less’n a day’s walk fam ‘ere, an’ buy some more ‘ealin’ liquors.  Miaowee reckont woi’d be in danger thar, but oi wuz sure Darvin could spooky parsed the watch if’n ‘ee warnted.

 Anywoi, Whyfore arsked the inn’s mistress if’n bain’t no witchy lady I’ the village: an’ course, turns out goodly Mother Malkin war near: but frightful spitey ter furriners.  So, shoi sent a boi ter fetch ‘er.  Woi all waited, wi’ Miaowee prowling up an down the corridor.  Oi ‘eard Moo coming to: she’s strong oi’ll gi’ee tha’: more blood o’ ers still out than in.  Fair brought a tear term oi oiye tha’ ‘er first thought were ter ‘pologise an’ say shoi’d bin bad.  We need ter ‘elp ‘er wi’ er radgee, that’s true, but twaren’t not her fault, not really.  Shoi is what she is, an’ vixen an’ doe alls foights the ‘arder, so’s thoi says, an’ wi’out restraint loike what shoi does.  “Hemmu don’t loike being angry” shoi said, all plaintive, loike.  Miowee in turn assure Moo tha’ twarn’t nay pother, an’ pologised fer the choking she ‘as ter put on ‘er.

 Than Jenkins came round, doubtless roused boi sound o’s mistress’ voice.  ‘Fore oi could stop ‘im, ‘ee war out o’ bed, arskin’ if’n ‘er ladyship needed ought: shoi straightway scolded ‘im, an’ packed ‘im barck inter bed, saying she needed ‘im better’s all.  Than shoi went an’ talked ter Sailor, ‘oo also came to, an’ told ‘im ‘ows the gianter war dead an’ some o’ the cavalry ‘scaped.  Than shoi resumed prowlin’ the corridor.

 ‘Ventually Mother Magda turned up – for some reason Miaowee ‘n Darvin kept getting ‘er title wrong, woise women is Mother, bain’t thoi not know tha?  Now, guess she put some foul poultice up ol’d Worrying’s nose, an’ brought ‘im back ter loife.  Suffice ter say, once shoi war gone, wi’ thanks fram Miaowee (an’ promises of favours) an’ gifts fram Darvin.

 Now, suffice ter say, Worrying as soon as war on’s feet, began ter ‘eal us all.  'ee strained’self wi’s holy as ‘ee troid ter bring Moo barck fram near dead.  Than ‘ee ’ealed Sailor, but war so knackered that Darvin ‘ad ter lend ‘im spooky strength to keep on wi’s ‘olying.  Than ‘ee came term oi, an’ oi said oi warn’t so bad as Jenkins an’ ‘ee needed th’ealing first.  So, Worrying ‘olyied ‘im: than war too knackered for me, an’ ‘ee ‘ad ter wait an hour or two ‘fore ‘ee came barck, but then ‘ee ‘olyied moi all the way barck t’ealth, bless the Lady.

 Woll, oi jumped out o’ bed, ‘anded o’er a little shiny ter the innkeep, an’ began ter drink beer: Childerbert lives! Oi’d stared death I’ the face an’ come out t’other soide.  Whyfore came wi’ moi, an’ woi both troied ter dry the barrel, seein’ as it war so sadly wet.  Miaowee came down, an’ we sang soldiers songs, e’en the one about the soldier ‘oo ‘elped the maiden ‘oose dress war too big fer ‘er.

 Worrying said a sort o’ prayer fer the gianter, an’ Darvin proposed a vigil (an’ that woi did, an’ couple o’ days later, woi returned ter the Gianter’s Field ter make apyre o’ what remained o’ all the bodies arfter the corbies’d been at ‘em: a field black wi’ their murder, so it war.  Woi set up the Gianter’s club as a memorial.  The fire war a glorious sight, woi’d poiled’s enemies around ‘im, loike dogs at ‘is feet, oi’ll ne’er forget).

 Moo came down, an’ bought a round fer’s all, oi think, this bit is a bit hazy.  Woi talked o’ the future: Miaowee warnts ter go inter merchanting (Oi ‘ope that don’t mean shoi’ll leave our drove)  Darvin ‘as mysteries in Marsh ‘all ‘ee wants ter look inter.  Oi warnted ter keep us looking fer shiny, so’s oi said, wi’ moi cunning – reckoning thoi’d all warnt ter get vengeance on the Vulgar or do thar kingdom duty an’ whatnot – said woi should go a larning about the Vulgar lands, and see what shiny thoi’ve left unlooted.  But first, oi reckon woi’d need to Phessio, ter learn what kenning is thar on the Vulgar that woi could add to.  An’ oi reckon oi could do wi’ larning o’ the fluence.

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