Winter 2000/2001
The first month of the year is always on of the coldest regardless of where you lived in Erdreja. Throughout the year our egg shaped world was often subject ot rain, quickly follwoed by the harshest of sunshine whic often caught the populave unawares (usually at the Gathering of Nations, funnily enough), but always at this time of year it was blummin' freezing.
Inside the Inn the weather was unimportant to virtually all of its occupants. The fire roared with almost uncomfortable heat, and those sat near it had stripped off heavy woollen tunics to avoid sweltering in the glow of the burning wood. The only individual that was grumbling was the Cloak Imp. He'd been employed to stand in a corner so that customer's could hang their cloaks and coats on him. He was unhappy because when he'd started the job three months ago he had been six foot three, but now, after months of dangling heavy, water laden garments on his head the weight had shrunk him down to three foot two. He had however found in one of the coat pocket's proof of a scheme by the Wolf faction to annexe the Northern Wastes, because some sort of grassy vale or summit had been found up there. Also these invasion plans would probably fetch enough copper for him to buy a pair of stilts. No longer would his friends call him 'Inchy Imp,' he would return taller and more powerful than they would ever believe! Nice doggies the Wolves. He liked Patch and Fido the faction leaders.
Frank and Bill sat at their usual table near the corner of the Inn. It was away from the door, not too near the fire, and yet close enough to hear any performing bards, but not too close so that they couldn't overhear ineresting conversations. Frank and Bill did not eavesdrop, oh no, they just took a very healthy interest in the state of teh world. The two friends sat, surrounded by the warmth and their own company and the steady buzz of information and rumours that assailed their ears.
The bard was quite good as he strummed his stringed 'thingy' and they had spoken to hmi prior to the performance to find if the truth about Meg the Mistrel being pregnant by Manthar of the Unicorns was true. The bard said he didn't know, but hoped it wasn't, as if a child was born of that unholy union it would probably create a ginger minger singer. All three made the sign of their ancestor as the repulsive thought entered their minds.
"So Frank," said Bill, a thoughtful look on his face (which was unusual), "I heard that Druith Lich bloke is finally dead."
"Aye Bill, I believe he got sucked up by mud in Avalon after the Lions tricked him into stepping out of a ritual circle."
"The Lions? Aren't they that nation who keep getting thrown off their land?"
"Yep."
"Sounds like a bunch of gypsies if you ask me Frank. They'll be selling pegs, not wearing shoes and flogging lucky heather before long, mark my words."
"The thing is Bill, no-one knows where they're going to land. I personally think they'll do a skimmer. Land on Erin, skim across into Albion, take out half of Teutonia and finally settle down somewhere in the east."
Bill looked at Frank, then down at his pint. "Hmmmm" said one half of the drinking duo.
The two friends sat in silence for a while. Their thoughts almost, but not quite, forming in their heads. Suddenly Bill sneezed.
"Bless you," said Frank.
"Thank you." Replied Bill. As soon as Bill had uttered the words a squeal of pain was heard and a small, delicate fiary that had been flitting around the room dropped to the floor stone cold dead.
"Yes!" Cried the two friends in triumph, "Yet another of the little gits gone!"
The two friends settled back into their chairs in satisfaction and continued to speculate about the state of the world.
"That Aegyptus place was quite a party at the Gathering of Nations Bill. Seems they've really started to come out of their shells since the leader of the Sutekh cult became Pharaoh."
"Yeah. Last I heard, they were sending people left right and centre to go and visit other nations. Sounds a bit dodgy if you ask me."
"You're not wrong there mate. I also heard som Muarabian called Abdullah was seen selling the pyramid to Orcus. They're all a bit suspect if you want my opinion."
"Well, I'll tell you Frank. Them Aegypt fellas are going to get a shock. There's all sorts going on."
"Like what Bill?"
"Well. Seems them rate Creatures, Skaven I think, are getting organised and are planning some sort of Grand Council. The Alchemists are looking for Balrog Blood for some sort of potion, and you know the Aegyptians were the last to use a Balrog, so I'm sure they'll be having a little tete-a-tete."
"The Beastmen, apparently have been raiding Cymrja and having 'Knowledge' of the local sheep, if you know what I mean." Bill gave a knwoing wink to Frank. "The family Thorne are trying to bring about the end of the world, again. The Gryphons are still having problems with this White Rose bloke, who seems to have taken over half of their country, including a lot of their vineyards."
"And to make things worse, I've heard, only heard mind you that the new leader of the Harts is related to the scum sucking demon spawn of foul and vile putresence."
"Who?" asked Frank "Corvus?"
"Nooo" replied Bill, "Matron Mother Kerish'Mor."
"I dunno mate, no-one's that unlucky. Anyway, I've heard these Aegyptains have got nothing to worry about. You see, I've heard rumours of a nasty secret organisation they've got called, 'The Scarabs'. Very nasty apparently, very nasty."
"What do they do then Frank?" Asked Bill, his interest piqued.
"Nasty stuff."
"What sort of nasty stuff Frank?"
Frank looked around furtively and gestured Bill to move closer. When the two were inches apart Frank whispered in Bills ear.
"Secret nasty stuff, Bill" Frank said, nodding knowingly.
Bill looked sceptically at his friend, then sat back. Frank reached for his pint and said;
"A toast, Bill. To all the new leaders of nations, all the established ones and all the ones since past and Papewaio being stranded on Holy Isle with the Lions!"
The two friends clunked tankards and together as one said;
"May the ancestors bring them all they deserve!" The two friends drank deeply as outside, the wind blew cold.
Meanwhile back in the corner with the cloak Imp, a flurry of garment movement brings our attention back to "Inchy".
You'll be surprised at what you come across rummaging in people's pockets, some rather icky things at times. Lumps of left over food make a nice addition to his diet, bits of fluff collected make nice bedding for his pet rat. On the odd lucky occasion he finds a trinket of value, it soon disappears.
"Hold on, this is only a dirty old copper!" An exclamation comes from under the coats. "Rip off if you ask me, my tips are getting less every night. Can't buy half of the things I used to for an old copper." The coats go quiet!