Fight to the Death!
Master Michael of Waterford
It is the story of our very first Rowany. We were the Red Cordial Brigade, The Ferrels, The Mouse Warriors. We were known to jump into the centre of the dust bowl and went in with our preset blows and 30 step combination. It looked like a violent dance at high speed, dust rising beneath our feet. I suppose that to our onlookers the dust would almost obscure us from vision, making us appear like something out of a Road Runner cartoon. Occasionally our battles were accompanied with shrieks of primordial rage which people added to their amusement. This added to our reputation to being the feral boys.
Festival was a big eye opener for us as we were still na�ve in the ways of the world. Sex and thuggery were still new worlds for us to explore, except for Phillipe of course. It was almost like a school camp with no limitations and no teachers and obviously we took up the advantages that we could handle. Of course we were camping with Ventbarre and they looked on with amusement. Perhaps they were reliving their childhood through our eyes…
We acted like children – nothing has changed. And when you are at a camp, you have pillow fights, it goes with the territory. We had viewed with consternation the rather painful operation of time at Festival – ie the Heralds or at least one particular Herald – and we had had as many Oyez oyez! That we were willing to put up with at that stage. Having being told that violence against the King’s voice was not really an option, we were forced to instead to make fun of the Heralds at any opportunity that presented itself.
It was at this stage that the impending pillow fight in our tent seemed somehow relevant to that really painful Herald’s call. And the cry went up from inside the tent " Oyez oyez! There will be a pillow fight in five minutes" We thought this was hilarious. But we were more than surprised to hear a voice from the camp fire saying "Squire! Get me my helm!"
We found this a little disquieting especially when accompanied from wailing banshees coming from the fire and moving threateningly towards our tent zip. Someone muttered an expletive… and one of us left for the zip to hold it closed and the others picked up pillows to take on the oncoming hoards. We were too slow and the zip was forced open just enough to allow a head through. It was Sir Sebastian. The zip opened further. Under a barrage of pillow blows, another two heads appeared. It was at this stage that I realized that the pillows were not going to do the job. It was time for the camera.