Cecilie1200
Diamond Member
So . . . as I've mentioned in passing on several threads, I'm a member of the Society for Creative Anachronism, the world's largest medieval recreation group. The twelve days after Christmas are filled with twelfth night parties hosted by various people in our local group, and my friends and I have been making the rounds of many of them. Last night was a Yule Log Dressing at Thyra's house.
There were three firepits set up in her backyard, with a huge Yule log laid across them and a bunch of chairs set up around them for everyone to enjoy the fire and drink and socialize. One of the people gathered there was Varr the Silent.
At one point, Thyra took the fire poker and began turning the Yule log and stirring up the flames. As she did so, a piece of flaming wood flipped out of the pit and landed directly in Varr's lap. Startled and attempting to dislodge the wood, Varr tipped over backward, his legs flailing in the air. Living up to his nickname, though, he apparently uttered not a sound while doing so. Everyone else around the fires stood frozen in a moment of stunned horror. Because he and his chair had fallen over, no one could tell for a second whether he had managed to remove the wood or put out the fire. Vallawulf, standing on one side of him, jumped forward to pour his beer on him if necessary, and Kimberly, on the other side of him, intended to help beat out the fire, although she reports that she was a bit unsure if she knew Varr well enough to be copping such a feel as yet.
This being the SCA, three of the onlookers ran inside to tell the rest of the party. The first the rest of us knew of what had happened, one of the men burst through the door, shouting, "Thyra just set Varr's dick on fire!" Naturally, we all rushed outside to see.
Varr was unharmed; even his clothes were unsinged. So we all proceeded to make horrible flaming penis jokes the rest of the night, embarrassing poor Thyra to no end, and finished out the evening with a rousing chorus of "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire!"
How is everyone else's Christmas aftermath going?
There were three firepits set up in her backyard, with a huge Yule log laid across them and a bunch of chairs set up around them for everyone to enjoy the fire and drink and socialize. One of the people gathered there was Varr the Silent.
At one point, Thyra took the fire poker and began turning the Yule log and stirring up the flames. As she did so, a piece of flaming wood flipped out of the pit and landed directly in Varr's lap. Startled and attempting to dislodge the wood, Varr tipped over backward, his legs flailing in the air. Living up to his nickname, though, he apparently uttered not a sound while doing so. Everyone else around the fires stood frozen in a moment of stunned horror. Because he and his chair had fallen over, no one could tell for a second whether he had managed to remove the wood or put out the fire. Vallawulf, standing on one side of him, jumped forward to pour his beer on him if necessary, and Kimberly, on the other side of him, intended to help beat out the fire, although she reports that she was a bit unsure if she knew Varr well enough to be copping such a feel as yet.
This being the SCA, three of the onlookers ran inside to tell the rest of the party. The first the rest of us knew of what had happened, one of the men burst through the door, shouting, "Thyra just set Varr's dick on fire!" Naturally, we all rushed outside to see.
Varr was unharmed; even his clothes were unsinged. So we all proceeded to make horrible flaming penis jokes the rest of the night, embarrassing poor Thyra to no end, and finished out the evening with a rousing chorus of "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire!"
How is everyone else's Christmas aftermath going?
