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The War in the Willows
The Aftermath of North Piddle
Placeholder pending finished Den Picture.The group ducked through the low doorway, Maverick having to stoop to avoid hitting his head on the beam. Bramble pushed aside the thick door, revealing the cosy interior of their den.
The fireplace crackled, casting a warm glow over the space. Maverick gently laid Morrigan down on the bed. Neville hovered anxiously as Bramble began examining Morrigan’s injuries.
Just as Bramble was about to speak, Morrigan’s eyes flickered open. He groaned, twisting his head. “What…what happened?”
Bramble’s face relaxed into a relieved smile. “You got hit by a giant rat with a club.”
Morrigan’s expression screwed up in confusion. “I’m not sure… I saw the club coming, and I stepped back. I think I tripped over…and fainted?”
The group exchanged amused glances. Maverick grunted, “Not your best move, Morrigan.”
Morrigan shot him a weak glare, then winced, touching his shoulder. “Shut it, Maverick. What happened to the rat?”
Bramble answered, “Maverick took care of it.”
Morrigan nodded, closing his eyes. “Good. Don’t let me see that again.”
____________________
Morrigan, Thomas and Neville set off into the woods, travelling a little further afield.
Morrigan’s black feathers blended into the shadows as they walked. Thomas led the way, his eyes scanning the trees for signs of danger. Neville skipped ahead, his laughter echoing back to Morrigan and Thomas.
Morrigan trudged along, his arms crossed over his chest. “Can we just get this stupid walk over with?” he growled.
Thomas stopped, his expression stern. “Morrigan, we’re on a scouting mission. Protocol dictates we stay alert and focused.”
Morrigan shot him a glare, but Thomas didn’t back down. “Sorry, Captain,” Morrigan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Neville suddenly darted off the path, chasing after a butterfly. Thomas’s voice was sharp, “Neville, get back here. Now.”
Morrigan intervened, “He’s fine, Thomas. Kid’s got instincts.”
Thomas’s expression didn’t change, “Protocol, Morrigan. Neville, report.”
Neville ran back, out of breath and grinning. “Sorry, Thomas! I caught one!”
He held up a bedraggled butterfly, its wings fluttering weakly. Morrigan chuckled, “Nice catch, kid.”
Thomas nodded curtly, “Good job, Neville. Let’s move. Stick to the plan.”
As the group walked, the trees thinned, and a small clearing opened up.
A slender figure leaned against a tree, dressed in a doublet and hose, with a feathered cap cocked to one side.
Maximiliano, the Ferret, grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming like a promise of mischief. “Ah, buenos días, mis amigos! I see you’re a trio of adventurers, eh?”
Thomas’s hand rested on his mace, his eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
Maximiliano bowed low, his eyes sparkling como estrellas. “Ah, I’m but a humble traveller, sir. Some call me a pirate, others a freedom fighter. I prefer ‘entrepreneur’…or perhaps, ‘collector of fine things’.”
Morrigan raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “What are you doing out here?”
Maximiliano winked, his charm radiating like sunshine. “Oh, I’m on a mission of…acquisition. Let’s say I’m seeking treasures left behind by the previous tenants of this fair land…or perhaps, the tenants themselves.”
Neville’s eyes widened. “Like a treasure hunter?”
Maximiliano chuckled, a low, throaty sound. “Ah, sí! Exactly like that, Joven sir. Though I prefer ‘collector of secrets’…and opportunities.”
Thomas’s expression remained sceptical. “What’s your business here?”
Maximiliano’s grin broadened. “Merely passing through, Capitán. I assure you, I mean no harm…unless, of course, you’re hiding something worth taking. Then, I might have to reconsider…or make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
Morrigan snorted, a small smile playing on his lips. “I think we’ve got nothing you’d want.”
Maximiliano’s eyes sparkled. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, amigos. I think we might have…business. Shall we discuss it over a drink?”
Thomas’s face remained stern. “No drinks. What’s your name?”
Maximiliano chuckled. “Ah, forgive me! I’m known as Maximiliano Vulpine, at your service…and at the service of your secrets.”
Morrigan raised an eyebrow. “Vulpine? Sounds like a fox.”
Maximiliano grinned, his accent thick and charming. “Ah, but I’m a Ferret, mi amigo…cunning, clever…and always landing on my feet, like a cat with nine lives…or a Ferret with a plan.”
Thomas said, matter-of-factly, “I thought that was Weasels.”
Maximiliano’s smile broadened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Ah, Capitán Mollusa, you have much to learn, mi amigo…much to learn. You see, Ferrets are the true masters of…acquisition.”
____________________
Maverick, Bramble, and Phillipe trudged through the forest, their boots quiet on the damp earth. The trees parted, revealing a sun-lit clearing. A stately badger, dressed in rich robes, stood before them, his paws clasped together.
“Ah, good people,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “May the blessings of the forest be upon you.”
Bramble inclined her head. “Greetings, sir. We’re just scouting. What brings you here?”
The badger sighed, his expression wistful. “I’m on a pilgrimage, dear friends. I seek to atone for…past transgressions. My wealth was built on the toil of others, I’m afraid.”
Maverick grunted, his expression unmoved. “What do you want from us?”
The badger smiled, unfazed. “I wish to reward good works. Please, accept this small token of my gratitude.”
He held out a small leather bag, jingling with coins. Phillipe’s eyes widened. “Pennies!”
Bramble smiled, taking the bag. “Thank you, sir. We’ll put it to good use.”
The badger nodded, his eyes shining. “May the road rise up to meet you, friends. May your path be blessed with good fortune.”
Maverick nodded curtly, his expression still gruff. “Thanks.”
The badger watched them go, a peaceful smile on his face. As they left the clearing, Phillipe turned to the others. “Think he’ll be okay?”
Bramble smiled. “I think he’s on the right path, Phillipe.”
Maverick grunted, “Let’s focus on our own path. We’ve got scouting to do.”
____________________
Back at the Den, the sound of Neville’s laughter and Morrigan’s crows echoes through the trees. Inside the clearing, Neville and Morrigan were mid-mosh, Maverick standing at the edge, watching with a bemused expression.
Bramble frowned, watching them. “Is Morrigan okay? He’s been…head-banging…for a while now.”
Thomas cleared his throat. “I believe Morrigan is fine, Bramble. It appears he’s forming a bond with Neville. Apparently, ‘moshing’ is a…dance. Morrigan is teaching Neville.”
Phillipe raised an eyebrow. “Morrigan’s teaching Neville a dance?”
Bramble’s concern turned to amusement. “Guess that’s a thing now.”
Maximiliano, leaned against a tree, his slicked-back fur and dandyish attire giving him an air of roguish charm. His bright, beady eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched the group, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He oozed charisma, his very presence seeming to draw the eye – especially from the ladies.
Bramble felt his gaze on her, and a hint of amusement crept into her expression. “Not mosh-ing?” she asked, a touch of playfulness in her voice.
Maximiliano chuckled, low and smooth, his Spanish accent thick and seductive. “Ah, no, mi amor… I’m more of a… Flamenco expert, no? Not exactly a mosher” His voice was like honey, dripping with charm.
Maverick grunted.
Thomas nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I think it’s good for Morrigan. He’s loosening up.”
Maximiliano’s gaze lingered on Bramble, his grin hinting at secrets.
______________________________
So, what does all that actually mean?
Well, Morrigan managed to survive without any lasting injuries. I have to admit I was a bit concerned making his injury roll, especially after all his rather pathetic efforts of trying to get any information out of the villagers.
I sent out two parties to go wandering further afield. The first group came across a medium creature, which joined our cause. Which now, of course, means I have to make and paint another model for the warband.
I have decided that it will be a Spanish Ferret, with a somewhat Antonio Banderas from Zorro kind of personality.
The second party came across a caravan and got gifted 4D6 pennies. I rolled rather badly and only got 10. When added to my spoils from the mission and my current treasury, gives me 48 pennies.
After upkeep, that leaves me with 32 pennies to equip Maximillian, our new dashing scoundrel.
I decided that Morrigan’s close call with death has had a bit of an impact on him, and he has now started to form a bit of an unlikely friendship with Neville.
The next thing to do is to go shopping. Maximilliano needs some equipment, so I guess it’s time for Maverick to take our newest member to the markets.
______________________________
Maverick and Maximiliano strolled through the market, the scent of fresh bread and spices wafting through the air like a seduction.
Maximiliano’s eyes sparkled como estrellas as he spotted a sword stall, his tail twitching with excitement. “Ah, mi corazón, a sword fit for a galán like myself,” he murmured. He picked up a flamberge, admiring its balance with a connoisseur’s touch.
Maverick nodded, eyeing the blades. “Need a sword, Max.” Maximiliano’s smile was a work of art. “Sí, amigo, something…suave. For a ferret of my…particular talents.”
As they haggled with the vendor, Maverick spotted a wanted poster on a nearby wall. He nudged Maximiliano, nodding towards the sign. Maximiliano’s eyes danced with amusement, his grin spreading like a sunrise. “Ah, mi amigo, it seems I have…admirers,” he chuckled, taking in the list of crimes. “Seduction, …unfulfilled gambling debts…they flatter me.”
Maverick grunted, “Disguise, Max.” Maximiliano laughed, a low, throaty sound. “Ah, no, mi amor. I shall not hide. I shall transform.” He whipped off his feathered hat, ruffled his fur, and struck a pose, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “¿Qué tal? No one will recognise me now, sí?”
Maverick raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “You think messing up your hair is a disguise?” Maximiliano’s grin was pure charm. “Ah, but it’s not just the hair, amigo…it’s the pasión, the fuego, the…me.”
He winked, his accent wrapping around the words like a velvet cloak. “No one will expect me to be so…devastadoramente handsome.”
Maverick shook his head, laughing. “You’re something else, Max.”
Maximiliano’s eyes sparkled. “That’s why they love me, amigo…and why they’ll never catch me.”
