Tales from the Bayou part Deux

[FrereSebastian]

It was dark by the time Billy and Boseefus made it to the shanty town of Som’er Teeth Jones. As they made progress through the bayou, Billy saw many other Gremlins that had gotten a visit by the infamous “Skeeters.” What began as a sojourn of two, quickly became the quick, excited pace of a throng that numbered more than Boseefus could count before he got tired of trying.

There was one good thing that came from the unexpected beckoning of Som’er; when many Gremlins get together they say quick grudging respects to members of greater renown, and then begin to try and one up each other. From antics such as who can drink the most fungus grog, to who can sing the most songs from memory, the callings of Som’er always became a festival of sorts until it was time for business.

Boseefus had begun to play his banjo; it was an instrument that the Gremlins have taken to ever since it was introduced by the humans. Boseefus was known throughout the bayou as the fastest player in all of Malifaux, so when some snot nosed upstart Gremlins challenged him to duel, he couldn’t refuse. Being the recipient, Boseefus chose what songs to play, and at what tempo the songs would be played. So as soon as the gauntlet was thrown, he launched into a reel that you had to run with if you wanted to keep in time with the rhythm. Boseefus had a knack for playing the same song over and over, but he liked to make it faster each time he played. So by the time they turned the bend to the Shanty Boseefus’ hands were dripping blood.

The throng as one pushed into the shanty, and as if it were on time, Billy saw the Slop Haulers grab vittles buckets and make way for the new group.

“What be on the menu today Jimbo?” Billy asked the Slop Hauler closet to him.

The Hauler laughed; his profession had its benefits, eat first and get the best vittles to name a few, but it was also very cutthroat. Every Gremlin in his right mind wants to be a Hauler, so its not too uncommon to hear of one ending up being fed to the Hogs or even ending up in the dinner pots. That was the running gag; all of the Slop Haulers are called “Jimbo” for a few reasons: they don’t last long enough to have people remember their real names, and because they eat so much of the best food they all get pretty round and look the same. “I reck’n‘s the same as always, but today wes got some squid to add to the meal.”

Billy looked surprised, “Well if that isn’t a feast for kings? What be the causation for such a surprise?”

The Hauler looked back and forth, “Word on the docks are that we be goin on a raid. What do you have to worry for? Ol’ Som’er ‘ll take care o’ ya.” With a loud guffaw he turned and walked away.

Billy and Boseefus got away from the trough with handfuls of Slop. As they made their way towards the “Meetin Place” they neared the famous War Pig pens. They hopped up on the fence and looked right into the face of one of the massive brutes. It was almost the size of Billy’s house; you could fit close to five gremlins on top of the old hog.

Billy let out a long whistle, “What do you make o’ this un, Bo?”

Boseefus didn’t say a word, he was looking the hog right in the eye, and then he leaned over and patted it on the head and gave it his share of Slop. Billy shook his head, it was too bad that they didn’t have enough hogs for Boseefus to be a true Hog whisperer. He’d gone through the training but just didn’t have enough pigs to work with them. Besides none would be the size of this monster, in their lifetimes at least.

Billy pulled on Boseefus’ shoulder to break him from the trance, and then motioned for them to get moving. Boseefus looked back at the massive pens and sighed then moved along with Billy. The two made it to the huge makeshift stage that Som’er loved to stand on and wave that huge gun of his around. While they waited, Boseefus pulled out his banjo and played a few tunes. The sound of the Skeeters droning above them almost put Billy asleep until he noticed that the stage’s area around it had almost filled up with pushing and shoving Gremlins.

All of a sudden, the stage opened and out waddled Som’er Teeth Jones himself, he wore a worn top hat with a lot of buttons fixed on, as well as a coat and trousers; at his side was his famous blunderbuss. As he raised his arms the immense Gremlin mob went berserk, some cheering on the legend amongst their kind, some angry at new strong arm policies that Som’er had enacted for a cut of their profits, and of course, some yelled just so they could be the loudest of them all.

“Mah friends,” Som’er started, “it seems as though we have been hoodwinked!” The crowd became silent, “Those damn humans are pushin deeper an’ deeper into our turf!” Som’er looked around, amidst the crowd, Gremlins of all shapes and sizes could be seen nodding their heads in approval or shaking them in disbelief. “Not only have they kicked us ‘ns outta their towns, but now they start to bring their patrols farther into our bayou month after stinkin’ month! Is this right?”

The crowd roared in disapproval, Billy shook his head. There was a reason that Som’er was the boss in this neck o’ the bayou. Not only was he the biggest Gremlin around, standing two heads taller than Billy, but he also had a way of getting the Gremlins that follow him into a huge righteous rage everytime he wanted to go on a new “excursion” into the human lands. Billy reckoned that there was something that Som’er was putting in the Slop to make everyone act this way every time there was a speech given.

There was a loud hush from the crowd and Billy looked to see that Som’er had gone on to pull out a bright green, glowing stone. “This ‘ere is what the humans call a Soulstone, and it is what them humans are using to get the better hand o’ us Gremlins every time. Well no more says I! I says we go in and take a Soulstone mine for ourselves!” Som’er Teeth’s voice was at fervor now, he was shouting with all of his might in an effort to reel in the crowd like an angler would with a prize catch. “If we take these Soulstones, if we take what is rightfully ours, something that has been in the soil of Malifaux since the beginning, and who was ‘ere first, the Gremlin or the Human?”

The crowd was in an uproar, Billy looked up and saw that Som’er had finished speaking and was admiring the handiwork of his words and their effect on the gathered Gremlins. It took all of a few minutes before a fistfight broke out amongst some of the more ruffian members of the group. Before he knew what was going on, Billy was knee deep in the fighting, swinging a hook here and ducking under a not so well timed kick there. Billy saw Boseefus swinging his banjo around like a makeshift club; oblivious to the damage it caused his prized instrument. The fighting raged on for a good ten minutes before a loud pistol crack was heard.

A loud voice was heard after the gun shot, “What is goin’ on here? I didn’t travel all the way to watch a bunch of no good, hog walloping Gremlins beat the snot out of each other.” The voice came from a Gremlin that billy wasn’t familiar with, it had a very thick Cajun accent, and it was female.