Confessions of Childerbert Ingoberger - Session 80

 The following account is by Bert; an IC summary of the session played 2020/09/03. 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.

---

Confessions of Childerbert Ingoberger, the Deceiver

 So, thar woi war: woiting fer our man, twenty six dollars in our fambles: or at least, fer a caravarn nor a market ter show up ter the village so’s woi could finish our convalescence an’ neither lug our loot nor sell it.  Woi wuz i’ th’Inn, breaking our farst, whan in came thoise solders, all a swagger an' a bragger loike, sayin' thoi wuz lookin' fer us.  Now, moi, oi stayed quoiet, cuz that's whut ye do whan the fambles o' the law come a searching fer ye.  It gets loike that whan yer breaking the law, breaking the law, breaking the law, breaking the law.

 Anywoi, fer the nobs o' the party, twarn't no thing ter turns round ter the bizzies an' say "Aye, woi're the folk's ye're searching fer, whar d'ye wanna tek us?"  That's whut Miaoee sayed.  Now, the guards sayed thut thuy wuz fram Loidy Ampersand, an' shoi wuz sumoning uz o'er the Battle o' the Gianter's Field, ter foind out whut 'appened.

 Whyfore sayed: can woi's 'ave a moment ter moike 'selves presentable.  The guards, thoi agreed ter go wait outsoide whole woi all cleaned an' spruced up.

 Thar wuz some debate o' whar ter stash our loot till woi came barck.  Woll, oi says, let's tip the innkeepress ter keep a close watch on our rooms an' ensure that no theivery get's organoised.  Every'one 'greed wi' that, so oi went an' gave 'er the shiny ring oi foind in the cave's o' the knickermacers: nice plain ring wi' black gem.  Shoi loiked it, thoughtoi wuz being fresh wi'er.  Course, oi wuzn't, but if'n oi wanted to retoire to 'ave an inn ter run, it's clear whar oi'd need ter go.  Shoi warn't too unpretty in anycase.  Twas a good ring, but it came to good use i' th'end.

 Our next debate war over whut weapons ter take carry wi's.  See, this is woi oi bain't never got weapons i' moi' fambles: the law don't loike 'umble folks tooling up.  Woi reckont Miao an' Whyfore, as nobs, could carry weapons, the most the rest could 'andle would be knoives.

 So' woi got ready ter go, an' Miaowee made sure woi 'ad mead fer the journse, paying the roight price fer the liqour, oi'm sure.

 Now, outsoide, Oi got all o' a tingle: thar war foive more guards waiting: far more than needed ter just carry an invite, more loike an arrest party.  An' blows moi, if'n bain't foive more on the road.  Now, oi starts ter get suspiscious.

 The soldiers seemed cautious, rather'n worried, relieved woi wuz comin' long quoiet, loike.  Woi chatted, an'Whyfore ran along wi' the horses up front, ter show 'ow fit 'ee is: oi took moi turn an' a fair share o' the mead.

 Twere about two leagues ter the manor house, a smallkeep wi' a wall an' a long 'ouse.  Grand but not majestic: but of stone, at least.

 Woi wuz ushered inter th'all.  Oi o'er'eard Whyfore whisper ter Miaowee that thar seemed ter be two different sets o' guards. This wuz 'splained whan her loidyship Ampersand came out wi' this spindly gadgee who telt us 'ee were the reeve o' the shoire.  “Please allow moi”, ee sayed, “ter introduce moiself, oi’m a marn o’ wealth an’ taste.”

 T hoi invoited us ter sit at the table.  Now, moi 'airs war prickling, an' oi reckont having us all of a face an' at seat would put us at risk if'n a trap war sprung, so's oi controived to be a stoopid servant who starnds at the barck o'is marster: 'urt moi proide ter do's it, but oi 'ad ter.  Made out oi'm the trouble starter, punkin' instigator, I'm the fear addicted, a danger illustrated.  Confused moi poor friends 'oo all troid ter convince stoopid Bert ter sit, but oi sayed oi knew moi place and tweren't fair ter try an' get young Bert sent ter gaol for sitting at the nobs table.  'Elps, asoide, that oi didn't fancy sittin' at the nobs table ('spite the lovely looking food thoi brung out).

 The Reeve troid ter order moi, but moi old uncle, oo war in service, taught us ow ter be dumbly insolent.  Oi stood moi ground an' kept moi place, warcthing our backs, while Whyfore an' Darvin telt all about or two encounters, far fram the wildy woods wi' the vulgars an' capricious.

 Darvy boy chose this moment ter remember that the gianter ‘ad a scroll in farncy smancy writin’ that e’en our wizzy boy couldn’t read, in’s bulging sack.  That moight ‘splain why the vulgar warnted ter kill ‘im.  Lady Ampersand were all a-arskin’ if’n the Vulgar war part o’ some chase cult: woll, thoi chsed us rightn’t ‘nough.

 Fer some reason, the reeve whar arsking if'n woi could 'and o'er the weapons woi've looted.  Arfter noting woi wuz stupid (a bold thing ter say ter Whyfore) ter burn the bodies on a pyre, an' questionin' us closely that thar war no other evidence.  Sounded ter moi loike someone buildin' a cover up on the barck of investigating: loike woi bain't all pulled that 'un 'fore.

 Arfter the talky war done, food an' drink war brought out: whyfore let moi 'ave's woine.  This was useful, coz whan the reeve slipped out, oi suddenly announced oi needed ter go make water, an' oi could slip out arter'im.

 Oi slipped outsoide, an' decoided the toime fer hoodwinking war o'er, thoi'd not loike moi spoiying on tham, so's oi moide moiself small, an' sidled up ter a butteress ter watch 'im o'er.

 Than Oi 'eard this 'orn blow...