“A beer to the person who knocks off that parrot!” (Day of Piracy IV, October 1, 2005)

By THLaird Colyne Stewart

From the Letters of Cap’n Bloodfox

I think the last the world had heard o’ me and me mates was when I was captured by them archers o’ Thule last year¹. Me woman, Cap’n Widow, led them right to me in a bid for her own freedom. At first I was sore at her, but when she later slunk into the gaol and set me and the lads free, well, I just had to forgive her.

That Constable² o’ Bastille—name o’ Evander—was after us in moments and we were forced to sail south for a year to avoid him and the ships of Her Majesty’s navy. Plundering the southron kingdoms is fun and all, but home is where the heart is. As soon as we could, we sets sail for the northlands again.

As we’re on our way homeward we hears that the Shire o’ Bastille du Lac is holding an event, a jaunty party inland, where they figure privateers will let them be. I’m not a man to let an opportunity for revenge pass me by, so’s I tell me Navigator Mr. Andersen to plot a course.

You remember Mr. Andersen I trust? This Norwegian fella who tells me he’s a Viking? Yar, that’s the bloke.³ Well, he manages to run the Interceptor aground. We beached, well and good. I almost string him up then and there, but I can be a merciful fellow and I only cut off a digit or two. The Clever Wife—me woman’s ship—weighs anchor without incident o’ course.

Gar.

So I leaves some men to try and get me ship back in the blue, and the rest start creeping through the trees towards the lodge where this here gathering is supposed to be happening.

That Constable and the shire’s seneschal—Edward Fuchyn—must o’ had scouts out in the woods, for they found out we were coming. Worried for the safety of his people, Fuchyn knows he needs to call fer some help, but who to call? If he calls for help to Septentria to the west, or to Skraeling Althing to the east, whose to say they’ll leave having gained a foothold in his shire? So he does the only thing he can think of, and that is to send messengers to both o’ them baronies begging for aid.⁴

Now me men managed to intercept most o’ them messengers heading west, and Widow took most o’ them heading east, but some must have managed to slip through. For when we finally reached the outskirts o’ the lodge what do we see but representatives o’ both them baronies.

Bah, we thinks. We just sailed and then walked all this way. Are we gonna be run off now? By gar we’d show them what for!

So me woman and me, draped in our flags, cutlasses drawn, stride outta the trees.⁵ Soon we have us a three way showdown with the forces o’Skrael, and Septentria and our crews facing off.

Now That Constable wanted to avoid bloodshed it seems, so he asked us all to sheath our weapons and take part in a contest. Out on the water he’s got a boat at the end of the pier, and he wants us all to take turns fighting on it. Each person has got to face the other fifteen fighters once, to see who is the best fighter of the day. Not one to back down from a challenge we and our crew say we’re in.

At the same time, on another pier, some more o’ the three groups fence with blades long and short. Lady Rusalka o’ the Galbraiths in fine pirate fashions crossed blades with THL Wilhelm von Pottruff and THL Cristabel Wensleydale of Skraeling, and Lord Robert o’Septentria.

Some o’ our forces were taken through the woods by THL Dayfdd ap Sion and Lord Augustyn o’ Ely to shoot at roving targets. (Both Thulish archers, ar!) I did not have a change to wander the course meself, but I did hear that there were targets representing both Baron Corwyn o’ Septentria and Baron Menken o’ Skrael.6 (Me thinks from reports that Menken had a few more holes in him than Corwyn did.) Also, several folks threw axes and knives at butts on another range.

But back to the boat. Since each fighter present had to battle fifteen times it was a long way to go to the final. Some of the more memorable incidents included: me lady Widow knocking a parrot of the helm o’ Lord Derfel Mallory7; a clankety German pirate in full metal armour who fought on the tiny dingy with a harpoon (and who fell over board at least once)8; and my own victory over the Constable o’Ardchreag. When all was said and done I had managed to send nine down to Davy Jones’ Locker, having been sent down meself six times.

In the end a parrot-less Lord Derfel faced off with another Constable, name o’Roak who came from the east. In a well fought battle Derfel took the day. Derfel presented his parrot to Widow, and it was discovered that the poor birdie had lost his beak in the battles. He was dubbed Peckerless Pete, and plans were drawn to replace his beak with a hook.

With a maniacal glint in his eyes, that Constable Evander o’ Bastille draws five circles on the ground and in each circle he places some swag, ranging in size from a small brown bag to a large wooden box. What he wants is for each barony to take a turn coming ashore in the boat and getting the swag into the boat while the other barony defends the goods. You could only carry the booty if you wore a full gauntlet, and either side could handle it. If you got yerself killed you had to run back to yer side to resurrect and rejoin the fray.

So Septentria is set to defend first, and I manage to sidle into that side fighting alongside Her Excellency Domhnail Galbraith, Mr. Tibs⁹, Argyle o’ Bastille and Constable Siegfried Brandbeorn. His Excellency Menken secures the arms of Constable Roak, Lady Jocea, Lord Derfel and a bloke whose name I never did catch. Everyone else was apparently too worn out from the round robin to participate.

So Skrael comes off the boat and we all fight like madmen, and let me tell you that was one tiring ordeal! People were legged and left to crawl about on their knees until finally one of their own teammates took pity and killed them so they could resurrect and be more effective. Everytime a raider bent down to pick up a piece o’ swag, he was clocked by a defender. In the end Roak, on his knees, was backing up like a scuttling crab dragging a box after him. That Constable o’ Bastille declares that Skrael’s time was 5 minutes and 19 seconds and we all falls over out o’ breath. Evander—the bastard—wants to send us back in after five minutes, but we manage to convince him that ten would be better.

Then Septentria is placed in the boat, and we has to run ashore and grab the booty. We did well off the bat, and it all came down to this here little brown bag that kept sliding out o’ our carriers’ hands. Roak then manages to grab the bag and he retreats with it to the furthest circle from the boat, at which point we had exceeded Skrael’s time so we stopped the pillage o’ the village.

I then dropped me kit off with the lads and suited up in me finest apparel: brown pants, red and white striped socks, red sash, brown belt, black baldric, white shirt and purple and red velvet greatcoat. A hat with a black and a red feather sat atop me head. Widow dressed herself up as well: gold hoop earrings, black skirt, white blouse, black bodice, green jacket, a brown hat with white and black feathers, and a gold cross sitting upon her bosom.

We and the other lads and ladies of our crews walked about with impunity, and no force o’ Septentria, nor force o’ the Skrael tried to arrest us.  Likely that was because That Constable’s truce was still going, but I prefer to think it was our bloody reputation. Yar.

As we sauntered about we made a few small ‘acquisitions’ so the day was not a complete loss. In fact, though we were going to leave to see my brother Shane o’ the Fish, we received a missive that he could not make the rendezvous. As such we were invited to stay and the Baroness o’ Septentria herself gave us coin to reserve a seat for supper.¹⁰

The tables for feast were all decorated with pirate flags crafted by the young’ uns who had been present throughout the day, and mighty fine flags they were too! Dinner was delicious (and well it should be what with folk like Lady Melusine de la Rose in the kitchen). It was also a riotous affair, with gifts of rum being passed out by both sets of Excellencies. In the spirit of things I grabbed me a woman passing by—her name was Lady Safrida Axehammer—and I abducted her to the next room where I planned to get to know her better. Unfortunately for me I suffered a case of ‘low tide’. As we walked back into the main hall I tells her, “Yar, I swear baby, that’s never happened to me before,” to which she replies, “That’s what they all say.”

Now this lady is the lady o’ Dafydd ap Sion, who came and clamped a large hand on me shoulder and told me to watch meself. Now, trying to protect me honour (har, what honour?) the lady had not told him about me ‘lowered sails’, so’s I spill the beans and it saves me life I’m sure. Mr. Andersen, who looks mightily like Dafydd’s squire brother, watched the whole thing from beginning to end. Dafydd, thinking his squire-brother had just stood by and watched a pirate abduct his lady, had almost smashed poor Mr. Andersen to bits before his true identity was made known. Gar, I was looking forward to seeing a good thrashing. (One that didn’t involve me, at any rate.)

The food, as I believe I’ve said, was excellent. We feasted on bread with honey butter, greens, mushroom and barley soup, spinach quiche, mushroom and cheese tart, ham with honey mustard sauce, lamb, mussels and a type o’ cheese cake glazed in honey. We was all quite full to burstin’.

After dinner a bonfire was lit outside, while some folk danced in a side room. Downstairs a pirate who bore a striking resemblance to Derfel sang for the little ‘uns and later for us big folk too. A local man, who had come to witness the happenings o’ the day for a local broadsheet, played a fiddle on the front steps. It was a lovely, relaxing way to while away the evening. THL Baldric (o’ the really long last name) asked us to come by his home for drinks as he was hosting a party, but we had a long walk back to ships so set off into the trees, followed by our crews.

It was then that I realized that we had spent more than we had earned on this expedition, and when we got back to our landing I found me ship still beached. And I cursed the gods o’ the sea and swore that I would have my revenge!

One o’ these days.

1.                  At Late Winter Shoot 2004 Cap’n Bloodfox and Cap’n Widow were targets for the archery contest. Since Þorfinna (Cap’n Widow) was on the team that won the shoot, in my event report she had actually helped capture Bloodfox to ensure her own escape.

2.                  Within the context of event reports written in Bloodfox’s voice, I refer to Knights as Constables.

3.                  Lord Eirik Andersen

4.                  The letters (which Fuchyn and I wrote together) read as follows (both were identical, though the one I am quoting was the one for Septentria):

Unto Their Most Ursine Excellencies, Corwyn and Domhnail Galbraith, does Edward dit Lion, Seneschal of the Shire of Bastille du Lac, send his most esteemed greetings.

Your Excellencies, I write to you to bring to your attention the plight of my poor shire, which on more than one glorious occasion has found itself under the protection of Your Might and Justice. Once again our land has been encroached upon by pirates and corsairs, flying under the flags of the Dread Pirate Captains Bloodfox and Widow. They and their men have been raiding our shores, raiding our stores and terrorizing our folk.

An army from the East is currently approaching our shire. Their captains assure me that they are only coming to help us and to push the pirates back into the sea, but I am afraid that without your forces here to balance their numbers they may forget to leave.

Please, Your Excellencies, I beseech you to come to the Shire of Bastille du Lac on October 1, 2005 for A Day of Piracy and to protect us from our enemies.

Your Most Obedient Servant,

Edward dit Lion

5.                  We were wearing black tabards painted with our respective skull and crossbones. Bloodfox’s is a fox skull with crossbones, and Widow’s is a skull with eight boney legs (forming a spider). We also were wearing black bandanas emblazoned with skulls and crossbones on our helms.

6.                  I honestly did not get a chance to shoot, so I didn’t get to see the course, but I heard it was awe inspiring. It’s not everyday I get to hear my Baron crow about shooting at an alligator!

7.                  And since Siegfried had proclaimed he’d buy a drink for the person who knocked it off Þorfinna got herself a Smirnoff Ice out of it.

8.                  Lord Ludwig von Eisengard, fighting with a polearm and wearing a full suit of plate (which in real life of course would be suicidal to wear while fighting on the seas).

9.                  Lord Tiberius of Warwickshire

10.              We were supposed to get together with my brother Shane and his new bride, but they had a memorial dinner to attend, so we were able to stay at the event after all. Since we only had enough cash on hand for one of us to eat, Domhnail not only loaned us the money for the other feast spot, but went in and talked to the cooks and event staff to ensure they could accommodate us. We don’t deserve such good friends.

Falling Prey to Archers (Late Winter Shoot, March 13, 2004)

By THLaird Colyne Stewart

From the journals of Cap'n Bloodfox, written while incarcerated in the Illi Gaol, Petrea Thule.

So it would appear that me famous luck has run out at last.

For ya see, me and my crew had planned one more daring raid against them Thuligans what live up in the 'rocky north'. Our plan was simple, and simple plans often work the best, or so me parrot always told me. We were to sail the Interceptor and the Clever Wife--the ship of me woman, Cap'n Widow--into a channel close by a barracks, and sally to the barracks on foot. We had heard that them Thuligans stored provisions and weapons at this barracks, but that they only manned the place for one day of the week. We split up into two teams, one led by meself and Mister Andrews, the other by Widow and Mister Tibs. We reckoned we'd just sidle up to the barracks from two sides, slip in the doors, and help ourselves to some booty.

'Twas a good plan. Except for one small detail that somehow eluded us all, and has led to our current sorry state of imprisonment.

For you see, them Thuligans had gone and sent out invitations to archers from across the land to come to the barracks that day and participate in several types of shootin'. By the time we got close enough to see that the barracks was crawling with over sixty archers, they had seen us too!

Well that constable from Bastille du Lac was there, as were them Iron Companions, AND the Thuligan Guard! Well, me and me mates scampered for it. Arrows were coming in at us from all directions and me men were dropping all around me. Finally we was cornered, and a team of six archers came and captured us. And I swear by all the gods of the deep that one of them archers was Widow her own self! Captured by me own woman, posin' as a Yeoman of the White Arrow from Ardchreag way!

I tell you truth, if Ol' Barney, whose plan this was, hadn't taken an arrow in the eye and saved me the trouble, I woulda slit his gizzard for this here debacle! As for Widow, well, I been talking to the guards o' this here gaol, tellin' 'em where they is likely to find the Clever Wife. Soon me woman will be sitting here beside me in this cell, and her feet will be swinging beside mine when I go.

If I go.

For there has not yet been a prison that can hold Cap'n Bloodfox.

*****************************************************

On March 13, the canton of Petrea Thule held the sixth annual Late Winter Shoot. Archers and crossbowmen from across Ealdormere came to participate in several types of shoots, including Winter rounds. Many good gentles won prizes for their skill with bow or crossbow, and everyone was stuffed with food thanks to the legendary generosity and hospitality of the Thule. The highlight of the day for many (based on the giggles, grins and enthusiasm I witnessed in the participants) was the novelty shoot. The archers were split into six teams of six to compete. Each team was shooting at a board with sixteen balloons set in a grid. Behind each balloon was a picture of a pirate. Fourteen of the pictures were generic pirates. One was of a captain (either Bloodfox or Widow) while the last was a first mate (Mister Andersen or Mister Tibs). The game was much like bingo. The object was to get a completed line of four pirates that included the captain and the first mate. It was possible to get them in the same line, or you could get a separate line for each (your strategy would of course depend on what balloons you had so far managed to pop before uncovering a captain or first mate). Each member of each team shot one arrow, then they would all scamper to the targets to see what pirate they had caught. Even after the first, second and third place prizes had been handed out for the shoot, archers kept at it until every balloon one very target had been popped! It was a most enjoyable day.

The following day Thule hosted a Septentrian Baronial Fight Practice which attracted fighters from Ben Dunfirth and Skraeling Althing (including three knights). Approximately fourteen fighters met on the field in one on one challenges, and many participated in the spear class taught by Sir Nigel MacFarlane and Baroness Adrielle Kerrec.

"The Bear and Hare Together Again": Border Yule (Septentria - Skraeling Althing joint 12th Night, January 3, 2004)

By THLaird Colyne Stewart

From the journals of Cap'n Bloodfox:

The ice lay thick on the Trent and me ship was not going anywhere. The ice was only part o' the problem, as me fine vessel had recently taken damage from the arrows of them Thulish archers. Ever since that constable o' Bastille du Lac put a bounty on me an' my crew we've been hunted like common criminals.

But I tells ya, there ain't nothing common about me and mine.

As I said, the Interceptor weren't going no wheres. And the lads and ladies o' me crew were getting a bit of the cabin fever. So when we hears that there's to be a yuletide celebration not too fars off, well, I decide the best way to keep the crew from killing each other off is to let them let of some steam, as it were. Now, this celebration was back in that shire from which we had recently escaped, that Bastille du Lac. Luckily, as this was a 12th Night celebration, we could go in costume. Meself, I went as a grey mare, more commonly known as a Mari Lwyd* where I grewed up. A perfect disguise for I was covered by a white sheet so no one could see me face. In my hand I carried a staff covered with ribbons with the skull of a horse on the top o' it.

We had to be extra careful at this here celebration, as that Constable would not be the only king's man we had to avoid. This here 12th Night was a joint one for both the Baronies o' Septentria and Skraeling Althing. We had to avoid the forces of both sets of Excellencies as well as them Iron Companions. The Petrea Thule Guard were out in force as well.

Knowing the risks we sets out through the wet, 'cause the gods o' the sea were sore at me for some reason and decided to dump rain on us. When we got out o' the rain there was thick rolling fog everywhere. We scared a good number of locals, let me tells ya, as I come lumbering out of the fog, all draped in tattered white carrying that skull-headed staff with me band of costumed ruffians behind me. We looked like spirits o' the dead coming out to haunt the living. Well, this time o' year was a time o' the spirits, or so me old grand dam used ta tell me.

When we gets to the hall we slip in the door and try to shake the damp off. All around us we were surrounded by folk in costume or fancy dress. We could hear people singing carols and could smell fine smells wafting from out o' the kitchen. Along two sides o' the hall there were games set up for all to play. I heard tell that whichever barony could raise the most points playing these games would win the services of the shire for a year. So I sends me crew out to play these games, with a mind to getting a load o' points which I can then 'auction' off to the barony what needs 'em the most. (And I must admit that this here plan was not of my own concoction, for I heard Their Excellencies of Ramshaven doing the same thing.) So we threw blue bean bags at a poor bear with a certain spot of its anatomy cut out, we rolled blue balls at pins shaped like hares, we tossed rings at some bloke's codpiece, we shot crossbows at targets representing the baronies o' Ealdormere and flung little hares at the helm o' his Excellency o' Skrael. None of us had the courage to play Skraeling Twister.

There were other more traditional games played throughout the hall as well, and folks gambled away at Glic and Gluchaus. Many o' my crew lost great sums o' money, but a few walked away with a small treasure or two.

At one point o' the day these two wooden horses is drawn out and Sir Nigel MacFarlane is placed on one to represent Septentria, while Lord Baldric, Champion o' the Skrael, is placed on the other. Several folk then held out rings as targets and these two big lads were pushed about on their horses trying to get the rings on their lances. Poor Baldric's horse threw two of its shoes, so Sir Nigel came out far in the lead.

There was a Lord and Lady o' Misrule that day (or o' Mischief, I never got that straight). The Lady carried a thick walking stick and wore the ears of a hare upon her head. The Lord was dressed in the skin of a tiger and a kilt, with the ears of a bear upon his own head. These two floated throughout the hall, adding what frivolity and jocularity they could to the day. They did so through their edicts o' silliness, which had to be acted out upon their whims. Even my own poor self was targeted and I was forced to sing a ditty (and all me crew knows what a terrible wailing I can send up).

After many hours o' the games it was time to feast. Lady Olga Axehammer (who I swear must be related to that Constable) and Lord Sven (who also looked familiar, like a certain Ardchreag knight) prepared the feast, and all agreed it was delicious. Throughout the day ribbons had begun to pop up on people's clothes, and now the Lord and Lady o' Misrule began to call these folks up to entertain the populace. There were two moments which had tears running out o' me eyes, being Master Hector and Lord Hydro's interpretive dance rendition o' the Bayeaux Tapestry, and Lord Wat o' Sarum's impression of a certain chequey knight.

After feast the Barons and Baronesses held their courts. At Septentria's court the dancers o' Eoforwic performed a dance to one o' Hector's fine songs. Then House van der Eych presented Their Excellencies Septentria with two cases o' mead for use in war negotiations and House Teach Cairidas donated gold and silver trinkets to Bastille du Lac. (At this point me and me hearties almost gave ourselves away as we began to purr with pleasure at the sight o' such booty). Also Lord Berend van der Eych was called in and given a Bear's Claw for using an enemy prince as a shield at the Pennsic War, and Lord Augustyn o' Thule was inducted into the Order of the Bear's Heart. Between courts Lord Hydro brought out a cauldron filled with small buckets which had been painted by good gentles throughout the day. Using fishing gear, all four Excellencies pulled buckets out of the cauldron, and each artist was given a small trinket. Skraeling Althing then opened its court. The Canton o' Ardchreag came forward and presented the Barony with seventy-two scroll blanks, as they had heard the Barony was in need o' some. The Honourable Lady Melusine de la Rosse was recognized as a Friend of the Hare, and the Honourable Lord Robert le Sawyer was brought in and given a token o' esteem.

At the end o' the courts the winner of the Arts and Sciences bean cut was announced, and it was another o' them van der Eychs, this time young Teah. Also, they announced that Septentria had won the services of Bastille du Lac by a large margin.

There was then much discussing and merry making and there was plenty o' distraction, so me and the crew sneaked out without a one o' us gettin' caught. Ar yes, I must say, it was a fine day in Bastille du Lac.

But now I must see to the repairs o' me ship, for as soon as the ice thaws, I see us sailing back into Bastille's waters to try and get us some o' them silver and gold baubles.

* The mari lwyd, or grey mare, was (and still is) a traditional Welsh Christmas oddity. A player would drape themselves in a white sheet, and carry a staff topped by a real or replica horse skull, which was bedecked with ribbons. Either alone or with a company (many of them playing other roles, such as groom) would travel from house to house. They would knock on the door, and when the occupant answered, engage them in a contest of riddles and insults. If the occupant lost (which they usually did) they had to invite the mare and any of its party in for merriment and refreshment. When the mare and its party had had their fill, they moved on to the next house.

Thule Takes Bastille into its ‘Protection’(A Day of Piracy III, Oct 4, 2003)

By THLaird Colyne Stewart

My name is known only to my mother, but the men on my ship call me Cap’n Bloodfox. (At least to me ears. I’m sure they call me other names behinds me back, but they’re all smart enough to know what’ll happen to ‘em if I hear ‘em utter such names.) I am, as me name implies, the proud owner of a ship—a schooner that was once part of Her Majesty’s fleet. If you look carefully under the paint you can still see her old name of Huntress. Nowadays I calls her Interceptor.

When I was in port at a cove in Greenhithe I heard some lads talkin’ about a group of raiders heading down the river from Petrea Thule. Them Thuligans were apparently aiming to put the shire of Bastille du Lac under their ‘protection’. The du Lacers were rightly nervous, as the might of the Thule archers is well known (I have a few on my own paybooks.)

Well I’m always lookin’ for work or booty (preferably booty that don’t take too much work to acquire) and so’s when one of them du Lacers comes over to my table and offers me a job, I takes it of course.

The offer was good, though I ain’t gonna share with you scurvy lot jus’ what was offered. Let’s just saw it’ll keep me in rum and parrots for a good long time.

I went to me ship and me woman, a cap’n in her own right who we calls Widow, had already got it rigged. She said she could smell profit in the air. I threw on me greatcoat and told me navigator Mr. Andersen to get us underway. Mr. Andersen’s an odd one, from Norway as I understands. Thinks he’s a Viking.

Our ship sailed up the Trent without running across any of Her Majesty’s fleet, and we berthed in the Bastille port. Far out in the distance I could see the Thule ship approaching. Mr. Andersen told me it was a drakkar. Alls I know was it was an ugly thing with a long curved prow, and it sat too low in the water. Round shields were hung along both sides painted with Thule’s star and chain.

Since we could see that it would be a few hours yet afore they arrived, the lads decided to practice with our swords and harpoons just in case the fighting came to boardin’. The first thing we did was lay out a plank over the water and took turns pairin’ off and fightin’ on it. If’n ya fell off the plank, well, you were good as shark food you were.

Then this fellow comes over, the local constable he is, but he thinks he’s a knight or some such. I swear, the folks ‘round these parts are touched in the head more of’en than not. Well this constable, he decides we should up the ante as it were, and he took down the plank and he put a small rowboat in the drink, and he says we’re to stand in the itty dingy, one in the bow and one in the stern and fight it that way. All ten men and women would take a turn until they had all fought each other.

This sounded like fun to us, though the cramped fightin’ conditions were a hindrance to many of us. In a fight against a Welshman named Dafydd I ended up sitting on my duff on the seat whilst we continued to trade blows. This constable, who’s idea this was, ended up fallin’ in the drink more than once. He was a soggy lad by the time we was done. One feller, name of Rothgar (also from Norway, gar!) came in late, so’s he fought us all in a row and did right well for himself, I must say. Over all though, it was a German name of Siegfried who come out on top.

The town bell started ringing then, and we knew it was time to pick up our bows to fight off them Thuligans. So’s we line up on the shore as the drakkar draws closer and we ready our bows. Only thing is, the Thuligans are smart devils and they had sent a group of their own archers in by land. So’s while we’re shooting at the Thule ship, these archers are shootin’ at the Bastille ship that was going out to meet the drakkar. What’s more, the Iron Companions, which is part o’ the army of Septentria, were marching with ’em.

The arrows flew thicker than flies on a dead man, and I am sorry to say that the Bastille ship was the one to sink beneath the waves. Ar, that was hard luck. But I had been paid already, so’s it’s all the same to me.*

With that bit o’ excitement out of the way I went back over to the lads for a bit more swashbuckling. This time they locked all us lads up in a cell and told us that we had to fight our way out if’n we ever wanted to be free men again. I swear I thought that was a ploy by the constable to keep us all locked up, but they placed only three guards and left us our weapons. So one by one we rushed the first guard. We only had to hit the guard once to get past him, whiles he had to hit us thrice. The first guard was that Siegfried fellow. Not many of us made it past him (including me, I am sorry to say). The second guard was a man by the name of Aaron Worgenson who chopped a good many of the lads down to size. The last guard they later told me was the King hisself! Only two managed to get past him—the Baron of Skraeling Althing, and a lad named Benedict, who is this baron’s squire. The constable puts ‘em both in the itty boat, and makes ‘em fight it out! Well they fight long and hard, but in the end it’s the baron that walks away.

We then thought we’d play a game, and so we grabbed a bunch of folk and put a bag over their heads and tied their hands in front of ‘em. It was great fun to watch ‘em wriggle like a worm while they tried to free themselves. The first six people to undo their bonds were then sat at a table with bowls of seaweed plunked in front of ‘em. Some of those tryin’ to eat that dry weed had a hard time of it, but this lass in red satin and a big furry hat name o’ Iolanda just gobbles it down! That Siegfried put all the weed in his gob at once, and then couldn’t swallow it as it sucked up all his spit. One o’them Thuligan archer chaps, named Augustyn, was watchin’ this while quite calmly eatin’ his weed little bit by little bit. In the ends, Siegfried just manages to swallow his great mass of weed at the same time that Augustyn finishes his last pinch. So’s they take these three and blindfold ‘em all, and make them walk through a stretch of ground strewn with debris, while a friend tries to talk ‘em through it. Augustyn made it in the fastest time, as he took very long strides.

All of us are right famished by this point, so’s we descend on the wharf-side inn where we is all stuffed right full of some o’ the best grub I’d et in a long while. The ‘chicken’ though looked a lot like me parrot (who had been missing all day).

After we had all et our fill, me woman Widow is dragged off by the constable to see the king. Visions of gallows is now flashing through me head, but in a weird twist of fate they wants her to stand at court and read out charges, rather than answer them.

As luck would have it, all the charges is good ones anyways. It seems the king was in a generous mood, even with Thuligan pirates claiming one of his shires as their own. So’s he calls up some folks and gives ‘em their rewards, though I don’t know them all. I do know that this lad name of Verenko was given an Award of the Orion, even though he didn’t already have his Award of Arms (the AoA now being conferred by the Orion). Also Lord Kennric Manning and Lady Tatiianna were given these Orions as well for their fine craftwork. Also, that Benedict bloke, who apparently did not die of the wounds his baron kindly gave him, was given a Scarlet Banner in recognition of his skill with the blade.

Once the court was over, me and my crew snuck out the back door to avoid that constable and we snuck outta the bay under cover of darkness. My sword was bloodied, my belly was full and my purse was jinglin’, so I was a happy man.

* The denizens of Petrea Thule had constructed two very large Norse ships for archery targets. Each ship—complete with sail—was lined with shields. Behind the shields stuck up heads that were the actual target. Those on the Thule ship were actually painted to resemble Thuligans. To play the game, a line of eight archers for each side fired at the ship belonging to the other side. If target 1 was knocked down on the Bastille ship, then archer 1 on the Bastille line was out of the game. After each volley, the line advanced one step. Each archer only had six arrows, and did not have to fire if they wanted to try and save them until they were closer. Once the first line had shot all their arrows, secondary line archers could take the spots of any ‘dead’ archers. It worked very well and was a lot of fun. A rousing wassail is deserved for all the effort, energy and imagination that went into that game!