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WOSSNAME -- JULY 2007 -- part 5 of 7

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  • Not A Granny
    WOSSNAME -- JULY 2007 -- PART 5 OF 7 (continued) ... oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ====Part 5 - WEIRD ALICE, FURTHER CLACKS LOG 21) MORE
    Message 1 of 1 , Jul 24, 2007
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      WOSSNAME -- JULY 2007 -- PART 5 OF 7 (continued)
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      oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

      ====Part 5 - WEIRD ALICE, FURTHER CLACKS LOG

      21) MORE WEIRD ALICE

      oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

      21) WEIRD ALICE'S CLACKS LOG, CONTINUED

      It was a dark and moonless night - handy for pirates, that - when we
      were attacked and boarded by the infamous crew of the not-so-good
      ship Lalip-Ap, under the command of Captain Jimbo "Aye-aye" Aie. I
      happened to be up in the foredeck being seasick over the rails when
      they came alongside; sheer terror is probably the best seasickness
      cure there is, and it certainly gave wings to my deck-splintered
      heels as I ran below, grabbed my lute case, woke Gimpy, and told him
      to go wake Cert and, brilliant piece of inspiration here if I do say
      so myself, to tell him we were about to be boarded by pirates and to
      for gods' sake throw his grimoires out the porthole and pose as a
      conjurer if he valued his life. Pirates hate wizards but they love
      conjurers - nothing like a spot of sleight-of-hand to entertain the
      crew on those long boring between-plunder voyages, and lonely sea
      dogs are always glad for the sight of *anything* in a robe... sure
      enough, the pirates lined up the passengers, rifled the cabins,
      disposed of the captain and first mate, and chose all the more able-
      bodied of those left as unpaid labour on their ship. By sunrise we
      were all in chains. I was, however, right to grab the lute. Being a
      Bard gets a lady out of all manner of trouble, such as unwanted
      attention from unwashed freebooters at sea. And oh my, what an
      unwashed crew they were.

      The crew of the Lalip-Ap (named, I'm told, for a minor local sea-
      spirit - they wanted to name her after the far more fearsome
      Shirlit Ampol Balak, small but deadly patron Goddess of pirates and
      very inept seamen, but the name was too long to fit on the bowsprit)
      are as scurvy a lot of swabbers as I've ever seen. Some of the more
      colourful ones (and I mean that in stomach-churning literalness)
      were Molasses "Blackstrap" Williams, a rum-soaked old navigator
      descended from an ancient line of Morporkian treacle miners; Jacqs
      Perot, an expatriate Genuan now living at sea with a girl in every
      port and an able-bodied tar in every cabin; Har al-Flin, swash-
      buckling son of the desert who took up buccaneering because he's
      allergic to camels; Scree, an unusually small greenish-grey Troll
      often used as a cannonball during attacks on larger ships;
      Blackboard, the infamous schoolteacher turned buccaneer; and Daffy
      James, late - in more ways than one - of Llamedos, who obviously had
      more than a bit of squid in his ancestry. They were all rude, crude
      and lewd, and Jacqs Perot was always in a mood. Captain Aie rules
      them all with an iron hand - as well he would, since his real one
      got cut off in a swordfight. We were treated badly on the whole, but
      we weren't killed (a plus) and even though they chained us to the
      oars and whipped us to row whenever the wind dropped, Cert and I got
      a relative amount of freedom and extra rum rations owing to our
      special talents.

      I have to say, Cert's handled himself very well so far. He didn't
      complain more than expected, he didn't try to take on the whole
      heavily-armed crew using only third-year spellcasting, and it turned
      out he actually does know quite a few feats of legerdemain including
      the rope trick and the one with the egg (donated by a passing
      seagull). I like him better all the time. I just wish he was a
      Sourcerer. For, like, five minutes. That'd improve the situation.

      ***

      Third day out. Very tired. Have to whisper to my PDA when Blackstrap
      isn't looking. Clever Gimpy, disguising himself as a dropped oyster
      and rolling under bulkheads when any pirates get near.

      ***

      Fifth day out. Bloody freezing gale. At least we don't have to row.

      ***

      Seventh day out. Asked Cert in whispered conversation what he thinks
      of our chances for escaping. He says good, but not time yet. Says
      he'll let me know when it's time yet. Wish it was time yet.

      ***

      Ninth day out. Change of circumstances. Double rum ration for
      entertaining Captain Aie with sea shanties I made up! He's easily
      entertained. Put me down for only half-shifts on the oars. Hope we
      get another gale.

      ***

      Tenth day out. Sunburnt. Must be getting close now, I can see the
      snowcaps of the Rammerock Mountains on landward side. And longboats
      on the horizon. Not sure if this is good or bad. Cert says not time
      yet.

      ***

      Nighttime, tenth day. Moon half waned. Seems like forever since Fat
      Tuesday. Need more rum. Cert getting stir-crazy, says if he never
      has to do the spoon trick again it'll be too soon. Jacqs Perot
      eyeing him up more every day. Must be the robes.

      Gimpy can remember music and sing it back exactly as he hears it;
      time I put some of this post in the medium of song. Very quietly.

      Everywhere you go, should always take a wizard with you
      Everywhere you go, should always take a wizard
      Everywhere you go, should always take a wizard with you
      Everywhere you go, should always take a wizard
      A wizard with you...

      Travellin' round the Disc with a barmy wizard
      Run-down and sore from that bargain seat
      Now it's a slow doom and everything's dismal
      Wish I was asleep on Lancre sheets

      Things are looking
      Cataclysmic
      Waves of Rim foam wash over me
      Cohen seized the
      Agatean Empire
      Wish he'd conquered this damned sea

      There's a big boat full of pirates
      Going faster since they captured me
      Do I lie like a chained-up hostage
      Or take my chance on the Kythian Sea?

      Everywhere you go, should always take a wizard with you
      Everywhere you go, should always take a wizard
      Everywhere you go, should always take a wizard with you
      Everywhere you go, should always take a wizard
      A wizard with you...

      Things are cracking
      In my sacrum
      Chains as fashion do naught for me
      Truly seasick
      Thirstin' like a vampire
      Could I kill for a shower? - Aye!

      There's a small bloke with an eye-patch
      Going "Nurr, nurr" when he looks at me
      Do I lie back and think of Morpork
      Or stab him right in the hard-a-lee?

      Everywhere you go, should always take a wizard with you
      Everywhere you go, should always take a wizard
      Everywhere you go, should always take a wizard with you
      Everywhere you go, should always take a wizard
      A wizard with you...

      Post. Endeth. Tired.

      ***

      Second Clog: "Carnival knowledge? Make mine a double!"

      As promised: since everyone else aboard is drunk (which is to say
      our *captors* are passed out to a man and Troll) and Gimpy says he
      has plenty of memory left before he has to do a dump (I told him
      that fell under the category of too much information, but he assures
      me it has something to do with thaumotechnology and nothing to do
      with Impish bodily functions), more now about my stay in Genua. I
      told you that New Genua is now the "party city that never stops"; as
      it turned out, there was an almost unbelievable choice of places to
      party in, at, around, and under. I've never seen so much rum in my
      life. Or so many music venues! Apart from Puttin' on the Grits and
      the House of Booze (see previous Clog), there are more amazing and
      bawdy and downright debauched pubs and clubs and shebeens here than
      you can shake a Zombie's Leg at, so I'll just list a few of my
      favourites...at least the ones I can remember through the pounding
      red haze of various hangovers: Going to a-Gogol, where I met my
      first genuine Genuan Zombie barmen; Thank Gods It's Saturday's, also
      known as T.G.I.S., which is owned by the Baroness herself -- she's a
      regular there and has even been known to have a go at the piano bar;
      the Genuan Article, head- quarters of the Campaign for Real Scumble;
      the Dead Duc, where everything's green, especially the beer; and the
      city's premier tourist attraction (apart from the Castle and the
      restaurants and the swamps and the Museum of Lady Lilith's Smiling
      Horrors), the notorious Show Boat. Or to give it its correct name,
      the Show!Boat!

      ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

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      End of Part 5, continued on Part 6 of 7.
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      Copyright (c) 2007 by Klatchian Foreign Legion
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