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4/18/2024 Update:
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Hi All, Lord Baldrith here with another wonderful story from the world of Islug by Sir Stile.  I am really enjoying this series.  Some very humous female and male voices here.  I hope it’s not too crazy, but at least it’s unique :).

Here is the text:

Written by Stile

Title: Islug needs a bath

Usara whispers to Eldirk and Minstril “Are you sure he will be here?”

Eldirk responds “Yeah, I’ve been spreading rumors that right underneath these falls have been a great place for Salmon”.

Minstril leans over “How do you know he will be here today?”

Usara whispers back “Mud just had a new fishing pole delivered. Master crafted from the best materials that can be found in New Britannia”.

Minstril and Eldirk nod with a knowing smile on their faces, being careful to avoid the branches in the thicket the three of them are hiding in.

Eventually whistling is heard as Islug makes an appearance to the side of the stream, right below the waterfall. They watch him as he seems to carefully search the ground around himself and looks in the general area as if concerned for his safety. Seeming to relax he unwraps a beautifully crafted fishing pole with gem inlays and boar skin wrap for a good hand hold. After baiting the hook and tossing into the stream in right past the waterfall, Islug drops onto a small pad he brought with him and lights a pipe. He seems content and half sleepy as the bobber spins lazily in the water and smoke rings circle his head.

Once he has been at it for a while, his three servants look at each other and nod. Eldirk whispers “Let me go first since I’m not as noisy as Boar in the woods. Lets do this just like last couple of time’s and we should be fine.”

Slowly Eldirk moves towards Islug, his feet seeming to fall in between every leaf and twig along the way. There is a rope in his hands ready to for some sort of unscrupulous use. The others hang back but clearly ready to run forward and assist.

Suddenly Eldirk pounces! Wrapping the rope around Islug’s wrists! Islug startled from his lethargy, his pipe dropping to the ground lets out a bellow “Nae, not again! What the ell is wrong with ye three?”

The others at Islug side now help Eldirk. Usara begins pulling off Islug’s clothes while Minstirl and Eldirk hold him still. All of them trying to advert their gaze. Eldirk is the one that responds “You Stink! We have to live with you! We told you, if you won’t take baths we will give them to you!!!” Islug thrashing responds “Damn ye, tis nae natural! If yed leave it be yed get ta like the smell. Fine tabac and Ale lad, what kind o person are ye? The Alchemist I cin understand but nae…” His speech trails off as Eldirk stuffs a piece of cloth into Islug’s mouth and mumbles “Should have done that first”.

A few minutes later sees the three of them trying to hold onto a naked Islug in the fast flowing water while he sputters (the gag having loosened) when they dump another bucket of soap and oil’s on him. Suddenly Usara’s foot goes flying out from under her as she steps on Islug’s new pole and lands on her back! Out of reflex the other two try to grab her letting go of Islug, who is promptly carried down the rapids bobbing with his hands loosely tied and a piece of cloth half hanging out of his mouth, his words barely heard “Hmph..Pay..Hmph… Kil..Hmph..Pole…”

Usara stands up slowly while the other two watch Islug going down the stream at a pace to fast to hope to catch up to. Eldirk leans down and picks up the pole looking at it “Well, it’s well made. Not a scratch on it at least”.

The other two glance over at it and then back to the rapids. Usara speaks “What are we going to do if he doesn’t survive this?”

Minstirl shrugs “Find another job?”

Eldirk grimaces “Where else are we going to find someone stupid enough to gives us room, board, materials, and a gold a week and that thinks he’s getting the best end of the deal?” The others visibly wince.

Usara begins gathering up Islug’s fishing waders and jacket and glances over at Minstirl and says “It may help calm him down if you figure out how to make that Rose dye he’s been wanting to dye these with”. Minstril just shrugs. The three wander off looking a bit forlorn.

Later that night finds Islug in a little tavern in a small village, wrapped with towels and shivering a little before a fire. A bowl of stew in front of him and 5 or 6 empty tankards. Children surround him giving him his full attention and eyes big, listening to his every word.

“That’s right, it had ta ave been at least a 150 pound Salmon! I’ve pulled in those around 60 or so they say are the biggest with nae a problem before. But this one was hugggee!” Islug holds up his hands as wide apart as he can, the towels falling to the floor and the kids eyes widen at the spectacle. “I was just sit’n there with me new pole, when BAM next thing I knew my face hit the water!” He picks up and downs another tankard in one gulp. “By the way, thank ye again for fishing me out at that bridge, did nae think I was gonna make it. What with my hands getting caught up in that rope I had brought along fer a stringer an all. Hundred an Fifty I tell ye! Reminds me of that time…..”