Confessions of Childerbert Ingoberger - Session 75

 The following account is by Bert; an IC summary of the last session. I give +1 character point (XP) for those players who submit a summary for me to post here on the blog. This session was played 2020/08/06.

The usual disclaimer about the intelligibility of Bert's regional accent applies.

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Confessions of Childerbert Ingoberger, the lurker

 As a very woise marn wunce sayed: a Halfling in a battle bain’t not none worth none I’ the bush.  Nor summat loike tha’.  So’s Oi spoid on events, waiting moi charnce ter strike, an’ disrupt any attack.  Oi knows oi bain’t as long as moi friends, an’ oi bain’t not got the slicey for the killing loike thoi ‘as: swish, swish, thump, thump, thump: another one boites the dust, an’ another one gone, an’ another one gone, another one boites the dust, yeah.  That’s ‘ow it goes in Miaowee’s garng.  But, ‘ere’s the thing, oi’ve moi job ter do, an’ oi doose it. Oi’ve got thar barcks, coz thoi can guard thar own fronts.

 But oi ne’er got the charnce ter rush an’ ‘bush fram the bush.

 Which is to say, oi spent the while hiding I’ the bush, as these gadgees all rushed up ter foight us: Oi think oi someone says thoi wuz the Vulgar, an’ that thoi war: all kilty and rippley pecced wi’ horny ‘elmuts and moighty choppers in thar ‘ands.  Now, one thing wi’ our company is that whilst some of us stick ter our jobs, others lack a sense o’ the gang work, if ye ken moi.  ‘Aving formed up a line wi Whyfore, Miaowee and Moo, Moo just went all charge outing, loike,an’ began athwacking o’ the first Vulgar.  An’ then Miaowee run off ter get wun o’ ‘own, leaving Eavhoe at Moo’s soide, an’ shoi needs ‘elp.

 Whan she charge inter battle, ‘tis loike the fury o’ the world is unleashed.  She bain’t not loike Miaowees precision killing, ‘tis more loike an eruption o’ a geezer, hot an’ wet (usually wi’ ‘er own blood).  See, these vulgars start ter carve ‘er up loike a hogmastide Goose.  Sloice arfter sloice ‘ee gouged fram ‘er, and blow arfter blow she larnded on ‘im.  Thoi both fought aloike, thar oiyes bulgin’ an’ mouths open, tongues out howling a fierce insane howl o’ rage ‘gainst the very oidea o’ death itself.  Thoi both refused ter die.

 See, oi’ve seen the rage o’ Moo: ‘tis loike she knows what shoi is doing but cannot stop ‘erself, a marionette ter whatever rage controls ‘er.  Eavehoe troid ter shield ‘er, but shoi wasn’t not having it: an’ these Vulgar were brave an’ capable foighters: it took Miaowee somewhile, after running ‘ foe through several toimes to eventually send ‘im to the rest ‘ee clearly wanted.  Thoi fought loike Moo: wi’out restraint nor concern fer thar loives.  Some men, you just carn’t reach.  So you get what woi ‘ad ‘ere that week.  Woll, he warnted it, an’ ‘ee got it.

 Now the Gianter Miaowee’d ‘elped, ‘ee starnds up, an’ begins chuckin’ boulders an’ swingin’ a tree soized club as near knacked our own nor our foes.  Meanwhile, Sailor an’ Darvin chatted thar spookery business, getting ready ter join I’ the battle.

 Miaowee disarmed ‘er ‘ponent: an’ ‘ee kept on foighting wi’ poor display o’ the unarmed arts.  Miaowee stabbed ‘im ‘gain fer’s pains.

 Now, thar war only four o’ tham in thar vanguard, an’ it took some struggle ter put them dahn: Whyfore were the first to vanquish one, followed boi Miaowee an’ the giant. Whyfore were troing ter crowd Moo out o’ the foight, but whoi were loike a tornado of spraying blood rovin’ the battle field, an’ shoi would not be denied.  Miaowee flew over to assist (still under Darvin’s spookery, see), whan Whyfore finally denoggined’s foe, the larst of the Vulgar vanguard.

 What wuz left o’ Moo began ter look fer more foes, an’ woi knews that thar were a score or so o’ them out thar, too much fer Moo ter take on ‘er own in that state.  Miaowee grabbed ‘er arm, ter restrain ‘er.  Shoi snarled an’ kicked at’im (She ‘ad a good two ‘and arm grip round Moo’s arm, wi’ a good bit of elbow control, shoi knows ‘er sweet science does Miaowee).  Whyfore an’ even the gianter joined in: it took three ter ‘old ‘er in ‘er rage, but shoi never gave up the struggle nor the snarling, ‘er legs flailing.  Thoi wrapped ‘er up good an’ toight: but se arnt calming down, a’ woi ‘ad foes left ter face.

 Wi’ what oi reckon must a’ been tear in oiye, Miaowee ‘pologised, as shoi troied ter choke Moo out.  ‘Er grip were good, an’ toight: perfect grip ter cut off the blood.  Oi ‘eard Moo gasping, an’ than continue ter struggle as if shoi were still moving boi will alone.  Truly, ‘tis a marvel ter behold, the Lady would admoire that, all the stubbornness o’ ‘n’auroch, bu’ shoi’d warnt more care o’ loife.  The lady warnts us ter live, an’ live well.

 Darvin must o’ used ‘is spookery, cause moi bowels all a’ churneyed whan oi saw ‘ee’d summoned a boney dragon that were feasting on the cadavres o’ the fallen Vulgar.  Now, I’ the way spookery goes, it vanished in a trice, an’ in its place war a smaller black monster, all knobbley, shiny an’ ribbeley, wi’ sharp as ye loike teeth.  Sometoines oi’m glard we ‘ave wizzies as moighty as Darvin an Sailor on our soide, but the Capricicous an’ Vulgar didn’t seem none not afeared, though.

 ‘Ventually, Moo fell asleep, Oi ‘ope shoi lives, Worrying came over an’ ‘ealed ‘er, but ‘ee realed barck after, exhausted fram the effort.  Oi fear woi’ve no more ‘ealingfram ‘im this day.

 Oi snuck out an’ moved ter a more for’rd bush, whoile moi companions formed up a new loine: a bunch more o’ Capricious advanced.  The vulgar were behoind, holding thar horses.  We’re caught ‘ere, an’ thar bain’t no way out.  But, loike my solderiy cousin Childeric says: ye take moi loife, an’ oi’ll take your too.  Ye loose yer crossbow an oi’ll run ye through, so whan ye’re waiting fer the next attack, ye’d better stand, thars  no turning barck.