The War in the Willows

Thomas slowly stepped through the underbrush, his feet leaving slimy footprints behind him. “According to section 3, subsection B of the Forest Navigation Protocols, we should maintain a maximum distance of 5 feet between individuals to ensure group cohesion.”

Maximiliano chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Ah, Thomas, siempre el experto, no?”

Thomas’s antennae twitched with irritation. “I’m simply following established procedure, Maximiliano. It’s the most efficient way to navigate low-visibility environments.”

Maverick’s voice came from the fog, low and warning. “Stay close, everyone. We don’t want to get separated.”

Thomas’s voice was steady, analytical. “I’ve plotted our course and calculated the risk of separation at 37.5%. However, I recommend we proceed with caution and adhere to the designated route.”

As they pushed forward, the fog deepened, and Thomas’s confidence began to falter. “Ah, yes, as predicted… the fog is reducing visibility to approximately 10 feet…”

But before he could finish, the group became disoriented, stumbling in different directions.

“Thomas!” Maverick’s voice was urgent.

Thomas’s response was immediate, his voice clipped. “I am proceeding according to protocol, Captain. Please maintain position and await regrouping procedures.”

Morrigan cursed, flanking the group. “This is getting us nowhere. I’m going up.”

He took to the skies, his wings beating fiercely as he disappeared into the fog. Thomas’s eyes followed him, his expression disapproving.

“Morrigan is deviating from protocol… I’ll note that in the log.”

Morrigan’s wings beat fiercely as he flew through the fog, his eyes straining to see anything. “Stupid fog! Stupid animals! Why couldn’t they have wings like me?”

He flew for what felt like hours, but the fog showed no signs of lifting. Morrigan’s temper grew shorter. “Useless creatures, stuck on the ground like a bunch of… of… slugs!”

Thomas stepped through the underbrush, his slimy trail glowing faintly in the fog.  He slowed, his antennae twitching with realisation. “Wait a minute… this looks familiar… I’m back at the starting point!”

Thomas’s face fell, his eyes wide with embarrassment. “Oh dear… I’ve managed to get lost and end up exactly where I began…”

Meanwhile, Phillipe’s eyes locked onto the massive shape in the fog. “Mon dieu… what’s that?”

The shape shifted, and a gruff voice growled, “Who’s there?”

Phillipe’s heart skipped a beat, and he ducked behind a nearby bush. “Zut… Briarbrow, the badger… I don’t want him to know we’re here.”

He held his breath, watching as Briarbrow emerged from the fog, his eyes scanning the area.

Briarbrow sniffed the air, his expression calculating. “Seems I’m not the only one hunting the Necromouser…”

Phillipe’s eyes widened, and he stayed frozen, hoping not to give away his presence.

Briarbrow’s massive form disappeared into the fog, his grumbling fading into the distance. Phillipe let out a sigh of relief and crept out from behind the bush.

“Zut, that was close. Now, where was I?”

He set off in the opposite direction, senses on high alert. As he walked, the underbrush gave way to a dirt track, winding through the trees.

“Ah, voilà! A path! Maybe this will lead me to… something.”

Phillipe followed the track, his eyes scanning the fog-shrouded trees.

Meanwhile, Neville was having a meliorating moment. He had been stumbling through the fog, his heart racing with every snap of a twig, when he suddenly realised, he had no idea where he was.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no… I’m lost…”

He took a deep breath and thought, “What would Morrigan do? He’d probably just fly away and leave everyone behind… or make a sarcastic comment…”

Neville straightened up, a determined look on his face. “I’m not going to panic. I’m going to be brave… like Morrigan… but nicer.”

He took a moment to think, then nodded. “Right, I think that way is… north… or something.”

Neville set off, his steps more confident now. As he walked, he realised he was actually heading in the right direction.

“Ha! I’m a genius! I’m going to find everyone, and they’ll be all impressed…”

He marched on with a spring in his step.

So, what happened?

I was facing off against another Warband of Freebeasts, The Bandits of Bracken Tor, consisting of Thorne Crookfoot (Hedgehog), Oke Fernfeather (Owl), Kroakwort (Frog), Briarbrow (Badger), and Meleon Greentail (Lizard).

Almost immediately, people started wandering in all different directions.  Thomas spent most of his time walking backwards and forwards over the same path.

Maverick spent the first few turns unable to move at all, and it was a bit touch and go if I was going to lose Bramble as she made a headlong run towards the wrong table edge.  (Moving off the table spelt death as the Ghast’s would take them)

Morrigan was the first to successfully reach the point he needed to leave the table from, thanks to being able to fly, and then a couple of turns later, Maximilliano and Phillip also made it safely across.

Thankfully, the game ended with no casualties on either side, which is a win in anyone’s book.