The War in the Willows

The Misfits lounged around the Den’s big table, laughter and arguments mingling with the smoke and ale fumes. Morrigan leaned back, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“I’m telling you, guys, the Witch Hunter General’s got nothing on me. I could outsmart him blindfolded, with one claw tied.”

Maverick chuckled, taking a swig of ale. “Oh yeah? How’s that work, then?”

Morrigan waved a dismissive hand. “He’s predictable. Thinks in straight lines. Me? I’m a bloody work of art. I weave, I dodge, I confuse.”

Thomas frowned, tapping the table. “Focus, guys. Necromouser. Remember him?”

Morrigan snorted. “The Necromouser’s probably cuddling a stuffed rabbit by now.  He’s old news.”

Bramble spoke up, “Guys, I’ve got somethin’ that might shift our focus. Caravan went missing in the Forest. Was headed to Oakwood, never made it.”

The group perked up. “Missing caravan? What was it carryin’?” Maximiliano asked.

Bramble’s gaze slid to Max. “Rumour says it had a treasure chest. Worth checkin’, if you ask me.”

Thomas nodded, his face serious, “We should check for survivors.”

Maximiliano grinned. “And ensure any pennies are rescued.”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. “Could be bandits, could be worse.”

Maverick stood up. “Either way, we need to know. Gear up.”

____________________

The Misfits plunged into the Forest’s twilight depths, Maverick leading the way. He’d picked up the caravan’s trail and was following it, his senses on high alert. The trees seemed to close in around them, casting dark, eerie shadows on the ground.

Phillipe kept pace with Maverick, his eyes scanning the underbrush for any sign of danger. Neville followed close behind, his hands fidgeting and twirling pieces of thyme leaves, ready to draw on his magic at a moment’s notice.

The other Misfits trailed behind, their footsteps light on the forest floor. Morrigan muttered under his breath, annoyed at having to trudge through the dense foliage. Thomas kept his gaze fixed on the back of Philippe’s head, his mind focused on finding the Necromouser. Bramble darted ahead, vanishing into the shadows, her agility allowing her to navigate the forest with ease.

As they walked, the trees grew taller and the underbrush thicker, making it harder to navigate. Maverick pushed through a wall of tangled vines, and suddenly the trees started to thin out, and a broken path lay across the floor.

In the centre of the path, the wreckage of a wagon lay scattered, the wooden frame broken and charred. A few crates lay overturned; their contents spilt across the ground.

Bramble and Maximiliano vanished into the shadows, leaving the others to cautiously approach the wreckage.

Morrigan muttered a quip about “the young ones needing a nap”, but Thomas’s sharp gaze lingered on the spot where Bramble and Maximiliano had disappeared.

Maverick began sifting through the debris, and Morrigan sauntered over to investigate a particularly intact crate.

The wait was short—a low birdcall – Bramble’s signal – cut through the Forest’s noises. Maverick’s head snapped up.

“They’ve found something.”

Morrigan took off like a shot, following Bramble’s birdcall into the trees. Neville stayed focused on the wreckage, while Maverick dropped to his knees beside a half-buried chest.

“Bingo,” he muttered, heaving the chest up. It was heavy – looked like the good stuff.

“Thomas! Got it!” he called, lugging the chest over.

Thomas turned, eyes widening at the chest’s size. “Get it back –”

Maverick didn’t wait, slinging the chest onto Thomas’s back. “Go! Get it to the Den. Now, with haste.”

Neville’s eyes flicked between them, then he murmured a quick spell. A soft blue glow wrapped Thomas.

Thomas took off, suddenly bolting like a startled rabbit. “What – why am I –?” He didn’t finish, focused on putting distance between himself and the Forest.

Neville watched him vanish into the trees, a small smile on his face. Maverick stood, brushing dirt off. “Guess he’s in a hurry.”

Bramble and Maximiliano froze; eyes locked on the approaching horde. Fungus-farmed mushroom men lumbered forward, their cap-like growths twisted into grotesque grins. Squirrels with glowing red eyes twitched their tails, flanking the group.

Maximiliano’s hand tightened on his sword “Looks like we’ve got old friends.”

Bramble’s gaze darted to the side. “Morrigan’s here.”

Morrigan landed with a thud, squawking loudly. Bramble’s hand clamped over his beak. “Shh!”

Morrigan’s eyes gleamed. “Looks like party time.”

–

Morrigan took to the skies, soaring into the trees with a swift beat of his wings. He perched on a branch high above, scanning the area.

“Squawk! You’ve got a big’un heading for you, guys!”

Below, a colossal mushroom man lumbered towards Maverick, Neville, and Phillipe. Its cap was a mass of tangled fungal growths, its “face” a twisted snout.

Neville’s eyes flicked to Maximiliano. “Haste!”

Maverick became a blur. He blocked the shroom man’s path, great sword swinging up to meet the creature’s club. The impact sent splinters flying as steel met wood.

Phillipe drew a deep breath; eyes locked on the squirrels closing in.

Far off in the forest, Bramble nocked an arrow, picking off a squirrel with a mere twitch of her finger.

The fight was on.

Maximiliano’s gaze flicked to Bramble. “Bramble, keep back! Cover us!”

Bramble nodded, retreating into the shadows, bow at the ready.

Maximiliano hurtled back towards the pathway, sword flashing as he joined Maverick.

The air was thick with the stench of damp earth and decaying fungus as the mushroom men pressed forward.

Phillipe burst through the rocks, his sword arcing down in a powerful strike. “Pour l’honneur!” he bellowed, cleaving a mushroom man in two.

A squirrel perched on a tree hurled a fireball. Maverick saw it coming – too late. Flames engulfed him, crackling with eerie blue-green sparks.

Phillipe’s war cry turned to rage. “Merde!” He hacked down at another shroom man.

Morrigan let out a piercing squawk – the signal to retreat. “Fall back! Fall back!”

Maverick stumbled, flames licking at his clothes.  Phillipe grabbed his arm, hauling him away from the fray. Bramble covered their backs, firing arrows in the general direction of the shroom men.

The Misfits fled into the trees. Morrigan flew ahead, leading the way.

The creatures gave chase, but the Misfits’ agility and Morrigan’s aerial scouting kept them ahead.

Finally, they burst into a clearing – and kept going, catching up with Thomas, who had slowed down to his normal pace.

Panting, they stopped near a stream.

Phillipe dropped Maverick, checking his burns. “Merde, Max! T’es fou?”

Maverick groaned, patting himself down. “We… got the chest… right?”

Thomas grinned, a large chest still strapped to his back. “Got it.”

Morrigan landed, preening. “We may have lost a few rounds, but we won the treasure.”

Neville chuckled, clapping Maximiliano on the back. “And we got out alive.”

______________________________

What really happened?

I managed to get extremely lucky and find the treasure chest on my first search attempt.  I don’t know why I decided to hand it off to Thomas, who is undoubtedly my slowest party member and also one of the best in melee.  Anyway, I did, and as a result, he had to leave the table via my own deployment edge.  Once again, Neville came through with his haste spell, not only propelling Thomas off the table but also flinging Maverick into a position to block the huge Shroom men from getting through to my squishy magic user.

Bramble managed to take out the opposing warband’s second in one shot, who’s own leader, in return, fire-balled my leader, Maverick, taking him out of action.   Luckily, he managed to survive the post-game phase without any ill effects, but I will cover all that later.

Ultimately, I decided to make tracks and escape as I had got what I came for, pockets full of loot, and I could see no reason to hang around any longer than I needed to.  I don’t know if it’s technically a win or a loss, but with loot aplenty and no casualties, I am pretty happy with the result.