A mythical and magical journey, started by one and carried on by another.
Most is true, just shrouded in the mythical realm.
Tales of the Great Gumba, his Bride Kerry the Bard, and a large assortment of many Immortals and Lessor Hoardes, his life in the Great Northron Regions and all that happens therein.
Huzzah!!!

Wednesday, December 07, 2005 

The Pipers and Viking Plunder

Our Merry band set forth to the Wells of the Works of Water to imbibe in a little grog.

The Gumba, his Bard, the Red Prince, Otter Queen, Star of David and his Consort, Ground Chuck and Dark Laurie all arrived at the Wells around 7pm.
Viking Plunder for all, shouted the Gumba and the wenches began pouring.

Deep from the underground ice caves came the libation called Viking Plunder, an ale worthy of it’s name, made by the king of brew masters, Lord Richlo.
A swarthy man, short in stature, large in generosity and knowledge, one who calls the Gumba friend. Lord Richlo is often heard walking around his brew cave, shaking his head, mumbling something about the old skinflint, that runs the brewery and his fiery assistant, saying: SOUR, SOUR, why is she so SOUR!!!!!

Viking Plunder, aptly named, it turns meek men into warriors, and warriors into Vikings.

Shortly after the troop of merrymakers arrived, a hush came over the crowd and from a distance could be heard the pipes.
A mournful wail, on a September eve, it drew closer, the Bard had outdone herself, she had the Royal Pipers from the Bay of the Rocky Coast march up to and into the Wells of the Works of Water, to regale her husband, the Mighty Gumba with the sounds of the pipes.
Tis a sound the Gumba relishes, for Racing Ma was of Scottish decent.

The Pipes are Eternal; they stir the soul, remake men, so to speak.
Heard on battlefields for eons, the pipes can make mortals act like Immortals, they make fear erode, nothing but the will to win remains.

The Pipers played the Gumbas favorite, all was quite, a single tear rolled down the cheek of the Gumba, not of sadness, but of joy, all was well.

The pipers paid their respects and off they went, leaving our merry band to themselves.
The Bard spoke up: Tis time for Feasting, let us go to the place of boat landings, they serve tasty red crunch things. Huzzah, replied the crowd.

Off went our merry band of revelers to the place of boat landings, where part three takes place.

Long live the Great Gumba.

So Sayeth the Great White Sage of the Northron Region.

 

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