Event Report: Late Winter Shoot, 2004

By Lady Thorfinna gra’feldr

Here do I lay pen to the events of the voyage to Petrea Thule on the 13th day of March, A.S.XXXVIII.

The wind had a bitter bite and the sea was cold and grey when I made ready to sail east once more. The balmy temperatures of the week previous had left us, and prehaps I should 'ave taken the change as an evil omen, for there was danger aplenty awaiting me and mine at the end of our journey. But word had come from the lands of Petrea Thule that there would be a Late Winter Shoot for all those gentles who possessed some skill with the bow, and as archery had been for a me a fond memory from me childhood, I made plans to attend.

So, with me ship, the Clever Wife, loaded to the bulwarks, we set out t'wards the rising sun on that chilling morn. The weather held, as did our luck when we were dogged by the vessel what bore Their Excellencies of Septentria to the Thule. But we managed to fall in with their fleet by flying Ealdormere's colours, and docked without incident behind them.

The tiny inn was packed with archers from all across the Northern Realm, and there was many a face I recognized, both friend and foe within the throng, including our own Mr. Tibbs, and that dastardly constable what bears so striking a resemblance to 'im. I kept me head low, and made meself scarce when the Thuligan authorities were about, and managed to spend quite a while at the range. I scored me a 64 in what they called their winter round, and I was pleased enough wi' that, seein' as how the last time I'd done any serious shooting had been some fifteen or more years gone (and it weren't none to serious back then, either. Har!).

After that, we headed up to get us a bit to fill our bellies, and I discovered that through some lack of wit and forethought all our gear for feastin' had been left back at Drew's End. I was forced to make use of a scrap of paper as me plate, and me fingers as forks! Still, the dining was fine, and the price fair, so there weren't much of which I could complain, save my own foolishness.

When we had broken our fast, the range was opened up for a new shoot, one which they termed 'novelty'. I was floored to me gibbet when I saw what they was up to. It seems they've not yet fergot the last time Cap'n Bloodfox and meself sailed these here seas, and it seems also that we be wanted, men and women both, in this barony! I had me a laugh that such a fuss was made over little ol' me, har! But me grin turned sour when it became appar'nt that Bloodfox and I were t'be the targets themselves! Fortunately for yours truly, in image only, and not in me person. It seems that, to improve the skill of their archers, and their chances of apprehending us pirates, the Thuligans had set up targets four rows by four, with renderings of meself, Bloodfox, Mr. Tibbs and Mr. Andersen hidden amongst those images of more generic piratical fiends. Upon each picture was placed a gaily colored balloon. Those what pierced a balloon could then look to see who's face might be underneath it, with the ultimate goal of striking both a captain and first mate on each target, and clearing the line that they were contained within by dispatching the row of balloons!

They even went so far as to pull some folk from the crowd who bore some likeness to ourselves so that them archers might have an idea'r o' who they was shootin' at.

I kept meself well hidden in the crowd, but when it was said that first prize was to be a booty of gold coinage - well, what else could I do but compete for that gold, seeing as how we was far too outnumbered to up and steal it by force. I thought it would still be rather poetic in justice if I were to take that gold, considerin' what the contest was about! So that's what I did, by tar!

We were divided up by numbers into teams, one team per target. Team Four were my team, and though disconcerting as it was to be firing deadly arrows at a likeness of me own face, the lure of gold was stronger than pride! When the dust settled, a shaft had penetrated my breast, and Mr. Andersen's likeness was shot clear through the mouth, but more importantly, a clear line connecting the two images had been cleared by team four, and we were victorious over all! Yar! And to add to irony, the Baron himself awarded me a few extra coins, none the wiser as to who he was paying! Ah, the winds blow their own way, do they not? Har!

There was more shooting after that, but I was not one to press my luck, and so I gathered up me gear and left to spend my winnings at a local inn of great repute where all were fed to their satisfaction, and none were left wanting. All in all, a day of great adventure!

But now I feel the old sea calling once more, and so for now, I leave me pen for me sword as Cap'n Widow sails again!

A Day of Piracy (Aug 25, 2007)

By THLaird Colyne Stewart

From the Journals of THL Colyne Stewart, captain of the Red Arrow

August 26^th, in the Year of our Lord 42, while at berth in the Rouge Port.

As stated in an earlier entry, dispatches had reached my ear of a gathering of pirates, buccaneers, privateers and other knaves that were going to once again descend upon the Shire of Bastia du Lac. Having many friends in the good shire, and having a letter of mark from a previous baron and baroness of Septentria, I could not let such potential deprivation go unanswered.

Ethereal heralds were sent far and wide, and I did challenge all pirates to battle, letting them know that my crew and I would be on hand to protect the Bastia.

Yesterday, amidst a misting of rain, my good ship rolled into port, flying our colours proudly. Many pirates stood jeering on the docks, shouting challenges to us and waving their cutlasses. Most of my crew were in no condition to fight, but Lord Snæbjörn sverðsbrjótr—the ship’s cook—exchanged his apron for armour and followed me ashore. I wore a bright new basinet helm with chain mail camaille, and we both wore surcoats in our canton’s colours.

We were quickly joined by the Shire militia, and squires of some of our Norman King’s loyal knights. Her Saxon Majesty herself and her husband (the King’s hostage) also appeared out of the mist, and the jeers of the pirates were transformed into worried mutters.

I noticed that there were no signs of Cap’n Bloodfox and his Black Trillium, nor of Cap’n Widow and her Clever Wife. I did however see the Jolly Menken lolling at anchor, though Chequeybeard stood at the ship’s rail, seemingly content to watch the coming violence and not take part. Beside him stood a tall blond woman with small braids in her hair who looked both fierce and congenial. She was, so I heard later, Captain Sincerity Cadfan, Captain of the Jolly Menken.

There then followed a great battle as we loyal Ealdormereans fought with the scum of the sea. This battle ended up taking place on a rickety boat that a squire-brother of mine had left behind when he moved to the East Kingdom. In the mist and rain and fog I fear things got a bit muddled, and it felt as if we all fought alone. In the end I stood upon the deck, triumphant.¹

Quickly I bent to tend to Her Majesty when the drizzling rain turned into a storm. The boat was torn from its moorings and cast adrift. All aboard grabbed hold of the rails to keep from being swept overboard. I lost consciousness at some point.

When I awoke it was to find myself on the shore of a small island. I could see no sign of any of my companions, and quickly set out in search of the Queen. Soon I found our boat, miraculously still afloat. However, between it and me stood four pairs of pirates, each eying the others and gesturing with their weapons. It appeared that each pair was from a rival crew, and none of them wanted to share rescue with the others. I knew I had to secure this vessel for myself, so I could use it to take Her Majesty, Snæbjörn, and the others back to Bastia port.

One of the pairs contained a pirate Queen, and she saw me standing at the tree line and asked for my support in the coming battle. Usually I would never agree to such a request, but since I needed to secure the boat, and had less likelihood of doing so alone, I agreed. When the battle started I managed to fell a fierce amazon and her giant companion, only to find that the pirate Queen and her guard had both been killed. Alone I faced off against the other remaining pirates, and in the end I found myself standing with my back to the boat, one lone bull of a man staring bloodily at me. He charged me waving a mace, and I managed to gut the rogue as he thundered past.²

I quickly clambered aboard the vessel and tacked out into the now calm waters to begin circling the island. Before long I managed to find Her Majesty and the others. Luckily one of the Shire militia was an excellent navigator, and before long we were back in the Bastia.

When we returned I was taken aside by Her Majesty and asked to come up with the wordings for two awards that were to be handed out that day in court. I found myself sequestered with a knight who looked remarkably similar to Chequeybeard, who did the calligraphy for one of the wordings I came up with.

Court was soon held, and I attended Her Majesty as her herald. I was most pleased to read out scrolls for the following deserving individuals:

• Elizabeth of Bastia du Lac, Award of Arms
• Byrta of Bastia du Lac, Award of Arms
• Athena, Award of the Wolf’s Cub
• Serenity, Award of the Wolf’s Cub
• Ellie, Award of the Wolf’s Cub
• Lord Leod Dubh, Award of the Scarlet Banner
• Lord Snæbjörn sverðsbrjótr, Award of the Maiden’s Heart

After court I was able to sit and play at dice (without wagers) with several friends, which is a luxury I have not been able to partake of for a long time.

The Melusine and Phoenix Inn³ then presented an excellent feast, with my favourite dish being the spicy mushroom soup. All present were entertained by juggling, song, and the telling of stories.

It was a most excellent day.

1.       The fighters present fought a round robin where each fight took place inside a small row boat. I managed to come in first with 6 wins—winning a reign point for the Normans—followed by Her Majesty Domhnail and Quilliam of the Hrogn in second (each with 5 wins).

2.       The fighters were split into teams of two, though since there was an uneven number of fighters I was a team of one. Her Majesty and my brother asked me to fight with them in exchange for some beer and Peanut Butter Cups. (This alliance ended up being in spirit only, as we never ended up actually fighting side by side.) We ran through this scenario of fighting for the boat four times; I managed to claim the boat in the first run through.

3.       The feast was prepared by THL Melusine de la Rose, though since she ended up having to work that day, it was prepped on site by Sir Siegfried Brandbeorn.

“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.

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!