The Rite of Serfdom ch. 8: Pairings

[[Ottar and Norla talk in the forest. Arthur eats the dead fox.]] / Norla: Are you done with your work? / Ottar: Aye. The hens were the last. / Norla: Let's talk about Wythllew. What's she like? / Ottar: She was... not unkind to me. But then, she was never my masteress, merefully my ride to the Corby job. / Norla: Why did she pick you? / Ottar: Wythllew is mickle fondnessful of the fae of Wodeskog. She trows us the purest fae, nearest to the old ways./ Norla: But she herself has transformed her body into one more like a high elf, wears clothes and coops herself up inside a tree./ Ottar: Aye... weird that... speaking of clothes, calls not your faith for more coverings? Such as you wore yestre'en? / Norla: Yeah, it does... but now that I'm here, among the humans, it seems a bit silly to. Here, I don't have to prove a point. / Ottar: Even though none of the folk in this house are Christian folk themselves?

Norla proves that if you can understand the twittering of birds, having a discussion with Ottar presents no challenge.

The discussion turns to a rather unpleasant subject. Socks, in fact.

Eniac says the oddest things when she lets her guard down...

Abúi gets on the other faeries' nerves and makes them feel very itchy indeed. Ooh yeah. Itch itch, scratch scratch...

P'séaigg manages to calm Abúi's fears. What they're planning isn't quite clear.

Norla, Ottar and the elder Rogues travel to the depths of the forest, and suffer a setback.

It looks like an alehouse, but there's a journalist in there asking the blindingly obvious, so it must be the TCN headquarters.

Daoibleagh has a customer! A willing one! Clap me in irons if I tell a lie!

Daoibleagh gets some business advice, and Abúi goes where no faerie has gone before.

Abúi finds a way to pry into lord Vax's mind and get him to let his guard down.

So, is Lord Vax on to Abúi or not?

Jodoque and Eniac are enjoying the Lutin party, but wondering to what they owe the honor. All will soon be revealed, in rhyming couplets.

Our heroes are feted with honors, and it turns out the Dhouards are goners. Their deaths, though, have not been in vain, for Lutins feast on their remains.

Keen observer though she may be, Abúi's analysis is suspect.

Maghreid explains the art of diplomacy according to a small creature with wings living in the year 1,001.

At last, we get to see some more of what faeries are capable of! Wiretapping, apparently.

Sinn Fae headquarters is just like Bletchley Park, but with better wall art.

Suddenly, a territorial/dominance conflict erupts.

Meanwhile at the Lutins' feast, Jodoque is getting a bit squeamish, the wimp.

In The Golden Noose, Norla and her team discuss how to better prepare for another confrontation with Wythllew. Alcohol is involved.

You'd completely forgotten about this, hadn't you? Muahahaha! Eat hot spades!

We're back! And so are the squid. Yummy yummy tentacles. And bureaucratic pig-headedness.

Norla discovers just what a bored corvid is capable of.

Norla is reminded of a day, long ago, towards the end of her army days.

Now we're busy making all our busy plans, on foundations built to last, but nothing fades as fast as the future, nothing clings like the past.

Trace poisons indeed. Such stupidity can only be deliberate. Did you read this blurb before or after reading the comic? Just curious.

I could start using these blurbs as epigrams, like in the Dune novels.


P'séaigg is referring to Abúi's angry outburst in the comic for January 16, 2004, not her blabbermouthedness in this episode.

The one thing that isn't listed is acid.

The drug

This is the point where the writer lies in bed and sees strange apparitions singing

You're not really a witch if you can't cackle, and Atra is a very good witch.

Atra gets her place in the spotlight.