It's Saturday so the conference is over, but I'm doing tour-guide stuff for my Ukrainian friends who are staying a couple of extra days, so it's still pretty busy for me. The conference has been pretty good overall, though it does involve a lot of crowds and people and other such things that I dislike. At least it's only once a year, with perhaps a reprise in November on a much smaller scale in Malta.
Pursuit "The LIch will flee," said Lawrence, Lord of Hinbaar. "We must waste no time. We must pursue it, so that it doesn't have time to go to earth and build up a new lair and force us into a frontal assault. We can learn from history here: when General Melchior attacked the Wachnassian fleet he didn't wait for them to reach their full strength but he sent fireboats in amongst them to sow panic and confusion. When Lord Pareil fought the Dershul he didn't wait until they were at full strength, he tied coconut bombs to monkeys and sent them amongst them to sow discord and superstition. We need, and I mean need, to follow their examples." Ingwene, still pale and prone to fainting from blood-loss, pulled herself upright in her chair. They were sat in the Tavern on the Wye, a pleasant farmers pub on the banks of the River Wye where people travelling between the cities of Nair and Bilkney often stopped for lunch, and sometimes when they drank their lunch too enthusiastically for the night as well. "The Wachnassians was a sea-battle, Larry," she said. Her voice started off thin, almost reedy, but she gained strength from somewhere and finished sounding like her old self. She sipped from a pint of Amber Ale. "Fireboats should have been a clue for you there. We can't use sea tactics on land, they just don't work. The timings are all wrong, and the wind is nowhere near as important." "Fine." Larry waved a hand dismissively. "Then Lord Pareil will be our rolemodel. He was almost as tall as me, you know." The Zombie, Larry's reanimated brother, groaned, but since that's all the noises he'd made since being woken up by the necromancer and used as a pack-mule, the rest of them ignored him. The necromancer, Falko, however, spoken Groanish and was aware that the Zombie was not in agreement with Larry regarding relative height.
"Pareil was a lucky idiot who was fighting children," said Ingewene. She sipped her ale again. She seemed much livelier all of a sudden. "Ignoring the fact that our lich has been alive for at least three hundred years--" "You can't know that!" Larry slammed his fist on the table spilling Ursula's herbal tisane. "-- going by the local records," said Ingwene as though he'd not interrupted, "and is probably the very opposite of a child, where do you propose to get monkeys and coconuts from?" "Falko will find us a merchant," said Larry. "We need maybe a hundred monkeys, and probably three times as many coconuts." "No," said Falko. "We're having trouble shifting some of the loot from the lich's tomb: I'm starting to suspect that it has bad eyesight given how many fake jewels were in that little chest. We're definitely going to have to go to Nair if I'm going to see a reasonable return on some of this junk and we are not spending money of the pursuit of monkeys and coconuts." "Bad eyesight? That's interesting," said Ingwene. "Useful info, that is. Traps would be a better option then." The Zombie groaned. "Rodney says that he cut off the lower part of the lich's leg before he died," said Falko. "I didn't see any extra body parts in there though--" "There were body parts everywhere!" said Larry. "--yes, you're a messy fighter," said Falko. "But I matched them all up... oh no, don't you all look at me like that. I was checking for rings, bracelets and other jewellery. Thoroughly. So the lich probably took it's leg with it, but at least for a while it's lame." "My brother's name is not Rodney," said Larry. He looked at the Zombie. "He's called Archibald." "He's picked Rodney now he's a zombie," said Falko. "It's like baptism."
3 comments:
It's Saturday so the conference is over, but I'm doing tour-guide stuff for my Ukrainian friends who are staying a couple of extra days, so it's still pretty busy for me. The conference has been pretty good overall, though it does involve a lot of crowds and people and other such things that I dislike. At least it's only once a year, with perhaps a reprise in November on a much smaller scale in Malta.
Pursuit
"The LIch will flee," said Lawrence, Lord of Hinbaar. "We must waste no time. We must pursue it, so that it doesn't have time to go to earth and build up a new lair and force us into a frontal assault. We can learn from history here: when General Melchior attacked the Wachnassian fleet he didn't wait for them to reach their full strength but he sent fireboats in amongst them to sow panic and confusion. When Lord Pareil fought the Dershul he didn't wait until they were at full strength, he tied coconut bombs to monkeys and sent them amongst them to sow discord and superstition. We need, and I mean need, to follow their examples."
Ingwene, still pale and prone to fainting from blood-loss, pulled herself upright in her chair. They were sat in the Tavern on the Wye, a pleasant farmers pub on the banks of the River Wye where people travelling between the cities of Nair and Bilkney often stopped for lunch, and sometimes when they drank their lunch too enthusiastically for the night as well.
"The Wachnassians was a sea-battle, Larry," she said. Her voice started off thin, almost reedy, but she gained strength from somewhere and finished sounding like her old self. She sipped from a pint of Amber Ale. "Fireboats should have been a clue for you there. We can't use sea tactics on land, they just don't work. The timings are all wrong, and the wind is nowhere near as important."
"Fine." Larry waved a hand dismissively. "Then Lord Pareil will be our rolemodel. He was almost as tall as me, you know."
The Zombie, Larry's reanimated brother, groaned, but since that's all the noises he'd made since being woken up by the necromancer and used as a pack-mule, the rest of them ignored him. The necromancer, Falko, however, spoken Groanish and was aware that the Zombie was not in agreement with Larry regarding relative height.
"Pareil was a lucky idiot who was fighting children," said Ingewene. She sipped her ale again. She seemed much livelier all of a sudden. "Ignoring the fact that our lich has been alive for at least three hundred years--"
"You can't know that!" Larry slammed his fist on the table spilling Ursula's herbal tisane.
"-- going by the local records," said Ingwene as though he'd not interrupted, "and is probably the very opposite of a child, where do you propose to get monkeys and coconuts from?"
"Falko will find us a merchant," said Larry. "We need maybe a hundred monkeys, and probably three times as many coconuts."
"No," said Falko. "We're having trouble shifting some of the loot from the lich's tomb: I'm starting to suspect that it has bad eyesight given how many fake jewels were in that little chest. We're definitely going to have to go to Nair if I'm going to see a reasonable return on some of this junk and we are not spending money of the pursuit of monkeys and coconuts."
"Bad eyesight? That's interesting," said Ingwene. "Useful info, that is. Traps would be a better option then."
The Zombie groaned.
"Rodney says that he cut off the lower part of the lich's leg before he died," said Falko. "I didn't see any extra body parts in there though--"
"There were body parts everywhere!" said Larry.
"--yes, you're a messy fighter," said Falko. "But I matched them all up... oh no, don't you all look at me like that. I was checking for rings, bracelets and other jewellery. Thoroughly. So the lich probably took it's leg with it, but at least for a while it's lame."
"My brother's name is not Rodney," said Larry. He looked at the Zombie. "He's called Archibald."
"He's picked Rodney now he's a zombie," said Falko. "It's like baptism."
Greg - glad to hear you survived :)
Oh my goodness, thank you for continuing this. It is gloriously funny. I love the idea of the lich having bad eyesight as well :)
Post a Comment