The Rhyme of the Ancient Marinader
A short break from Barfunweltz for a trip down memory lane...
Way back in 2009 I was part of a wonderful group of Mordhiem players. We used to play 'Luncheim' campaigns set on an island in the World that Was called Sartosa. We were all very keen on the narrative aspect of the game and would write up our games as stories. I had various warbands, including Halflings. For some reason I decided that for one campaign I would write my battles up in poetry. I only recently discovered I had saved this text. As well as various real world references, there are some allusions to my effective, but perhaps unpopular, playstyle! Unfortunately, the halfling models were sold a few years ago, but I do still have the ogryn maneaters 'Granny Faddock' and 'Jolly Roger'.
Anyway, as Gordo would say when serving up one of his renowned dishes, "Enjoy!"...
His uncle, old Sam Tailor-Coal, had gone travelling many years ago. All of him that had returned was a battered old trunk containing, amongst other things, the cookbook which Gordo was now eagerly thumbing through in the hopes of uncovering the secret of his uncle’s famous marinades.
The adventure-seeking young Gordo hero-worshipped the reputation of his uncle Sam, although no one knew him by that name any more of course: the trunk was marked ‘Cormorant Rams-Eye’. Gordo had proudly adopted part of that nickname as his own, although he was still unsure where the ‘Cormorant’ bit came from. His uncle’s travelling companions who had brought the trunk back – Harry, Olly, and Leon – seemed reluctant to talk about their adventures, although there were mutterings about a ‘Seal’ of some kind, and a town called Vercuso on the island of Sartosa.
And where this rhyme is started
Bretonnians love the Moot’s fine food
And pay a handsome salary
And so we sailed from harbour safe
With flour and oil and celery
It was not long before supplies
Of meat began to lull
And so I took my trusty bow
On deck to shoot a gull
With my short-bow I shot
A bird so large I could not miss
I thought it was a cormorant
But they call it ‘albatriss’
We marinaded it for days
In wine and herbs and spices
And served it in the captian’s mess
In tender dainty slices
‘What meat is this?’ the captain asked
‘Its taste is new to me’
‘Tis cormorant’ said I, ‘that flies
Above the surging sea’
But sailors know their seabirds well
And what the portents say
‘This is no cormorant!’ they cried
‘Its pinions are grey!’
‘Thou hast served up an albatross!’
Cried captain, mate and crew
‘Disaster on us all you brought
When albatross you slew!’
‘Ah, wretch’ said they, ‘the bird to slay
that made the breeze to blow!’
And as they warned, the sea was calmed
And the ship it didn't go
Day after day, day after day
We stuck, nor breath nor motion
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean
Bread ran short, and fruit and veg
And wine and ale and water
And as we sat becalmed and still
Supplies were getting shorter
Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.
The halfings’ hunger was intense
Our poor starved tummies rumbled
For by my eager archery
We all alike were humbled
At last the currents drew us near
The island of Sartosa
And there the captain had his men
Cast all the halflings over –
– board. We swam ashore to find
An old and dirty quay
Vercuso was the harbour’s name
A haven from the sea
The tides and currents split us up
We knew not who was saved
When my small group was washed ashore
Upon the murky waves
I found myself with Haricot
The best cook on the ship,
Young Oliver and Leon and
The thief called Dick Turnip
We also had two hobbit scouts
Who’d saved their precious bows
And soon we found a herd of pigs
With piglets, boars and sows
Gordo wasn’t overly impressed with his uncle’s poetic style, but he was gripped. Grabbing a pot of tea, a large fruit cake and a bowl of apples, he sat at his kitchen table and read on…
* * *
No sooner had we come ashore
Than orcs and goblins found us
We fled among the buildings while
The piggies fought them off us
Gordo hesitated, frowning. Dismayed he looked still further down the epic poem:
Four other bands we came across
Orcs, men, elves and undead
We hid up in a building tall –
I did not lose my head!
We sent the pigs to fight their dogs
A wall we hid behind
The scouts shot true from high above
‘Gainst vampire and his kind
Gordo wiped the fruitcake from his mouth and tears from his eyes and the shocking realisation hit him: ‘Cormorant Rams-Eye, my uncle, my hero, was a fudging coward!’
* * *
'Slippery Jack' was a sea monster represented by the tips of a few, threatening tentacles emerging from the water (our gaming table included a large section of water, and often boats).
Rumours I heard of treasure bright
And a famous magic seal
And so I sent young Dick Turnip
To hunt and find and steal
Afloat upon the waters dark
Was many a treasure sack
But all alike were guarded
By the fearsome ‘Slippery Jack’
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea
But Dick was quick and Slippery Jack
Did not have him for tea
But that raging band of greenskins
That we had met before
Caught the young Turnip as he hid
Upon the muddy shore
Oh Dick Turnip, oh Dick Turnip
The pigs they came too late
To save you from the goblin and
The orcs that sealed your fate!
* * *
Leon looked darkly at Gordo Rams-Eye from over the sow’s shoulder, his face half covered in pig slurry. ‘Yeah, oi remember that day, but oi’ve already told yer, oi don’t wan’na talk ‘bout it.’
‘But look Leon – this poem is Uncle Cormorant’s memoires,’ said Gordo, ‘I just want you to fill in some gaps. See, this bit’s all about how you disappeared into the clutches of Slippery Jack!’ Despite filth obscuring his face, Leon’s complexion visibly paled, but he said nothing. The piglet he was holding squealed as his grip tightened.
‘At least let me read it to you and see if it jogs your memory…
Meanwhile the bold young Leon
As brave as any boar
Cast ‘self into the waters
The treasure for to score
But Slippery Jack was terrible fast
And sensing swimming prey
A dozen mighty tentacles
Reached out in plume of spray
The splashing stopped, the waters stilled
And that was last I saw
Of the brave young halfling Leon
Of whom I heard no more
So, what happened next Leon?’ begged Gordo.
‘Oi became a pig farmer, young master Gordo, that’s what,’ said Leon with a trembling voice. ‘Now be off wiv ya.’
* * *
We shot the legions of undeath
We shot the buccaneer
We hid high up in buildings
And we taught them all to fear
And as our aim got better
And we learned new tricks and skills
Our fame spread through Vercuso
As they told tales of our kills
This little piggy went to march-block
This little piggy was the bait
This little piggy found some treasure
And this little piggy we ate
Gordo was taking notes now – these tactics would be invaluable should he ever find himself in Vercuso!
* * *
Big Ronnie had some near escapes
But always got the swag
There never was a thief so sly
He went through every bag
His mouth was agape as he read the next stanzas:
One day we met a ogre maid
(She was not very fair)
Who wanted to be taught to cook
And our adventures share
Her name was Granny Faddock
And she was a horrid sight
She couldn’t cook for toffee
But was awesome in a fight
She even lured a suitor
Who came and joined our band:
Another mighty ogre
To lend us his big hand
* * *
Another band of orcs appeared
Low cunning was their bent
They dressed in black and seemed to hail
From the far orient
We sent the ogres forward
The brave pigs followed after
While halflings gave them covering fire
From ruined buildings’ rafters
With awesome speed and deathly skill
The ninja orcs attack!
And soon poor Granny Faddock
Is lying on her back!
But ogre dames are tough as hide
And when the fight was through
We brought her round with beer and bread
And pork and garlic stew
The ending seems a bit abrupt. I'm not sure whether some has been lost, or I gave up on the poetry, or this was simply the end of the campaign. Anyway, that brought back some happy memories for me and I hope you enjoyed it too.
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