The War in the Willows

With kind permission from David Capon, A lovely guy here in Perth WA, I can share some more details of the campaign.

Players Notes

The campaign will run over approximately 3 months, culminating on the Sunday games day 29/3/2026.

Each month, there will be a “story” scenario, culminating in the final showdown.

Players may play as many or as few games as they like, but story scenarios will have limitations on how many times they can be played.

Existing Warbands with a Rating 20 or less may be used in the campaign.

All games must be played at the PMGG club.

Post-match sequence must be rolled at the club, with some exceptions
•New equipment purchases can be managed as part of the pre-game
•sequence (allowing people to plan their purchases)
•New hires can also be purchased in the pre-game sequence; however, upkeep fees must be paid in addition to hire fees.
•Select “Swords for Hire” will be available and will be announced during the Campaign.

Players are trying to gather information on the location of the Necromouser throughout the campaign. This is achieved through information points gathered through missions.

Players should track their information totals and let the campaign organiser know their new total after each game to determine if they have uncovered any new leads.

Information (leads, not points) may be traded, given away or sold to other players.

Players may always elect to swap a side quest for the “Locate” quest. This quest will generate 1D4 information points, and if successfully removed from the table, an additional 2D6 information points.

In addition, the following quests also generate information.

• Q7 – Recover the Pay Chest: Pay chest roll of 1-2 produces 2D6 information (instead of nothing)
• Q12 – The Caravan: Pay chest roll of 1-2 produces 2D6 information (instead of nothing)
• Q13 – Mole Hunt: Documents also produce 2D6 information if removed from the table.
• Q14 – Den Raid: Attackers who enter the enemy Den can steal information equal to a roll against that model’s Awareness stat from their opponent. The raided player must reduce their total accordingly.
• Q18 – Cult Raid: Players may loot for information instead of pennies. The interact action produces information instead of pennies.

Other Quest Notes

• Quest 9 – Lost in the Fog
The stakes are high, and the Necromouser is merciless. Models that wander off a table edge will be killed by Mist Wraiths unless rescued next game via Quest 15: Lost and Alone. You do not have to pay upkeep on models until rescued, but you will only get one shot before their soul is devoured. You may hire another warband to undertake the rescue if you wish; the price is to be agreed upon by the players.

• Quest 14 – Den Raid. Players are encouraged to build a den entry terrain piece themed to suit their warband. If they do so, they receive 1 free barricade (p191) that must be placed at the entrance of the den (and be modelled accordingly).

• Quest 16 – Interrogate
This mission is the first Story mission. It is only available to each player a maximum of three times (once for each town, Snodsbury, Himbleton and North Piddle) and is not available at all once Story quest 2 drops.

So, there we have it.  This month, the story quest is to try to gather information from the three local towns.   Looks like I will need to get cracking on this because as soon as story quest number two comes out, this one will no longer be an option.

______________________________

Maverick’s Misfits huddled around a makeshift map of the surrounding towns, scratched into the dirt with a twig. 

“Himbleton’s the spot, mate,” Neville said, adjusting his oversized hat. “Biggest tavern in the region. If there’s rumours about the Necromouser, that’s where they’ll be spilling the beans.”

Morrigan snorted, ruffling his black feathers. “Ugh, Himbleton’s full of fluffy bunnies sipping tea and gossiping. North Piddle’s dodgy docks are where the real scum hang out. Necromouser’s type of vibe.”

Philippe shook his head. “Non, non, ze markets of Snodsbury, zey are more… discerning. If someone’s talking about ze Necromouser, zey will be careful. Snodsbury’s ze place.”

Thomas stepped forward, leaving a tiny slime trail on the map. “Protocol dictates we consider traffic, populace, and puddle-depth. Snodsbury’s got mud. Himbleton’s got ale. North Piddle’s got… crime.”

Neville chuckled. “Yeah, and North Piddle’s got that bully Badger Barry the Bastard, probably crapping in the river. Not exactly subtle.”

The group fell into debate, each arguing the merits of their chosen town. Morrigan insisted North Piddle was the only logical choice, while Philippe advocated for Snodsbury’s discretion. Neville pushed for Himbleton’s gossip hub, and Thomas… well, Thomas was stuck on the correct procedures required before questioning anyone.

Maverick listened, arms crossed. “Alright, we’ve got three options. And Koda’s Templars Khaotica are probably already on the move.”

Maverick’s Misfits trekked through the forest, drowsy sunlight filtering through the canopy. Maverick turned to the group. “Alright, we need someone to scout ahead. Look for any sign of trouble.”

The group exchanged looks. Morrigan raised an eyebrow, his expression screaming, “Are you kidding me?” He slumped against a tree, feathers ruffled in disdain.

An uncomfortable silence stretched.

Thomas, determined, stepped forward. “I’ll go.”

Neville’s eyes widened. “But… you’re a… snail?”

Thomas puffed out his chest. 

Morrigan snorted, muttering under his breath.

Maverick intervened. “Forget it. We’ll stick together. Safety in numbers.”

The group nodded, moving off en masse. Morrigan trailed behind, muttering lyrics:

“Shadows dance upon the wall, Echos of a forgotten fall, in twilights hush, where darkness reigns, I’ll whisper secrets of forgotten pains …” 

Neville whispered to Maverick, “Think Morrigan’s alright, old chap?”

Maverick chuckled. “He’s fine. Emo phase.”

Bramble snorted. “More like permanently angry phase.”

Morrigan flipped them off, still muttering lyrics.

Mavericks Misfits

Maverick and Bramble stepped aside, surveying the motley crew with a mix of amusement and despair.

“Right, we need a name for this… lot,” Maverick said, wiping a paw down his face.

Bramble chuckled, eyes scanning the group. “An absolute shambles, aren’t they?”

Maverick snorted. “Understatement. Neville’s going to get us all killed, Morrigan’s going to scare off all the enemies with his whining, and Thomas is going to… well, Thomas is going to be Thomas.”

Bramble giggled. “So, what do we call this disaster waiting to happen?”

They tossed ideas back and forth, stifling laughs. “The Forest Fiasco”? “The Chaos Crew”? “The Muddlewood Muddle”?

Maverick’s ears perked up. “Wait… what about Maverick’s Misfits?”

Bramble’s face lit up. “Perfection! They’re misfits, and we’re stuck with ’em.”

Maverick grinned, nodding. “Maverick’s Misfits it is.”

As they rejoined the group, Maverick announced, “Alright, everyone! We’ve got a name: Maverick’s Misfits!”

Philippe, gave a flourish of his hat. “Oui, oui, ze name, eet ees perfect! Maverick’s Misfits, zis captures ze essence of our… how you say… ragtag crew, no?

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. “Misfits? How… charming.”

Neville beamed. “I like it! We’re all a bit… unconventional.”

Thomas nodded solemnly. “It’s… accurate, we’ll have to lodge it with state records.”

Maverick shrugged. “Hey, we’re not looking for a fancy name. We’re looking for a way to survive. And with you lot… we’re gonna need all the luck we can get.”

So, this is the gang.

6 individual characters, each with their own hopes and dreams.

They come in at 370 pennies, leaving 5 pennies in the coffers thanks to the extra 25 pennies they get for being Freebeasts and have a total rating of 20, which is, ironically, the maximum starting rating for anyone in this campaign I’ve joined.

They start with a Study at their base camp.

The first games of this campaign start this week.

Each month, there will be a specific scenario that can be played, although it is not compulsory.  The first mission is called interrogate, where the creatures are trying to find clues about the Necromouser.

Bramble

Bramble’s gaze softened as she watched Maverick bark orders, his voice firm but laced with a hint of frustration. Neville stumbled, his legs going in opposite directions, while Morrigan complained about the uneven terrain. Thomas, bless his slow heart, drilled on, his snail’s feet tapping out a precise rhythm.

Her mind wandered back to sun-dipped afternoons, Maverick’s laughter echoing as they duelled with sticks, pretending to be legendary heroes. No cares, no worries, just the thrill of adventure.

Now, the stakes were higher. Their parents gone, Mav had stepped up, shouldering the weight of responsibility. He’d grown into a leader, tough and unyielding, but Bramble knew the truth. He was a marshmallow beneath that thorny exterior, fiercely protective of those he cared about.

As she watched him demonstrate a particularly tricky manoeuvre to Neville, Bramble’s heart swelled with affection. He’d do anything to keep them safe, even if it meant facing his fears.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Morrigan’s wretched wailing. “My wings! You’re going to snap my wings!”

Bramble chuckled, “Hey, Mav, I think you’ve got your work cut out with this lot.”

Maverick shot her a wry glance, but his eyes softened, just for a moment, before he turned back to the task at hand. “Alright, listen up! Let’s try this again…”

Bramble is a Fox, sister of Maverick and second in command.  She is armed with a bow.

Her skills after modifiers are.

Strong (1)

Expert Shot

She is level 5 and comes in at 56 pennies.

Bramble is the caring one of the party.  She dreams of how things used to be, when life was simpler, and the conflicts seemed further away.  She is concerned that her brother has taken a lot on his shoulders and intends to do whatever she can to keep him safe.

Morrigan

Morrigan perched on a branch, his black feathers blending with the shadows like a manifestation of the night itself. He gazed out at the forest, his eyes lined with an air of perpetual disdain, like he was stuck in some kinda forever-rainy-day existential crisis.

Ugh, the trees were so… pointless. The wind was so… loud. Everything just existed, like, who cares? Morrigan cared about one thing: himself. And even that was a stretch.

He spotted animals gathering below. Morrigan sneered. Amateurs. Trying to change stuff. Like it mattered.

Morrigan dropped down, landing with a soft thud. “Ugh, what now?” he muttered, eyes fixed on Maverick.

Maverick raised an eyebrow. “We need to talk about the Necromouser.”

Morrigan’s gaze drifted off. “Necromouser… like this place isn’t oppressive enough.”

Bramble frowned. “Bird, focus.”

He snapped back, eyes narrowing. “I focus. I focus on me. What do I get out of it?”

Neville piped up, “Ooh, do tell, old chap!”

Morrigan’s look silenced him. “I want in. I want out. I want it dark. And I want it now.”

Maverick, confused and trying to make some sense of what he just heard, nodded. “We’ll make it work.”

Morrigan snorted. “You better.”

Morrigan is a Crow (Large Bird) who is armed with a Bow and a One-handed sword.

His skills after modifiers are.

Flight

He is level 3 and comes in at 59 pennies.

Morrigan is an Emo.  However, if you ask him, he isn’t; he can’t understand what everyone has got to be so happy about and thinks all the other animals are beneath him.  He is the least likely person to volunteer for anything, and absolutely everything annoys him.

Thomas

Thomas walked determinedly, his slime trail marking the brick path like a dotted line of duty. He held a crumbled poster, Maverick’s bold letters staring up at him:

“QUALIFIED VOLUNTEERS WANTED

to promote equal opportunities for all creatures”

Thomas had memorised the words, his heart aflame. He would join. He would prove himself. He would be… THE GREATEST SNAIL WARRIOR IN HISTORY.

Following the map, Thomas slid onto a narrow path leading deeper into Cedarwood. Trees grew darker, shadows stretching like gnarled fingers. He shivered – but didn’t stop.

Hours passed. The path wound on. Finally, the Old Iron Gate loomed ahead, eerie in twilight. Thomas gulped. This was… further from his front porch than he’d ever been.

He stepped closer, reading the gate’s rusted sign: “No Junk Mail.”

Thomas straightened his shoulders. “1700 hours Arrive at Old Iron Gate.” He stepped forward.

Thomas is a Snail (using the Tortoise profile) who is armed with a one-handed mace and a heavy shield, a relic from one of his ancestors.

His skills after modifiers are.

Tough (3)

He is level 2 and comes in at 66 pennies.

Thomas is very serious, even by snail standards.  A real stickler for rules and regulations.  Everything has to be done properly and by the book.  He often rambles on about regulations that no one else has ever heard of.  Fun for Thomas is marching around like in a military parade, or polishing bits of kit, and he cannot understand why no one else enjoys it.

Maverick

Maverick’s pacing grew more agitated, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the clearing. “No dogs, definitely no dogs. Can’t trust those hounds not to… well, hunt me.”

Bramble looked up from her bow, a hint of amusement in her voice. “What about the Otter? He seemed keen.”

Maverick shook his head. “Bad vibe, sis. Don’t like him.”

_He’s too big, too_. Thought Maverick.

The Badger, who’d been quietly observing the exchange, huffed. “Aye, I’m a bit too… Badgery, ain’t I?”

Maverick shot him a tight smile. “No offence, friend. Just need people who fit the… vision.”

_And he’s bloody massive. Not having anyone bigger than me in this group._

Bramble strung her bow, eyes sparkling. “What about the mice then? They’re scuttle and scramble experts.” 

Maverick shuddered, his tail twitching. “Mice? Are you kidding? One gets in, they all follow, and before long, it’s an infestation. No mice.”

The two fell silent, the only sound the rustling of leaves. Neville, a young frog mage, emerged from the underbrush, looking eager.

“Hi! I’m Neville. I saw the flyer…”

Maverick’s expression turned calculating. Now this one… might be useful. And he’s not too big.

Maverick is a Fox, and the Leader of this hapless group.  He is armed with a two-handed sword and wears heavy armour.

His skills after modifiers are.

Strong (3)

Tough (2)

Fearless

He is level 6 and comes in at 83 pennies.

Maverick is not afraid of anyone or anything except what will happen to Bramble should anything happen to him.  He is worried that, should he let any larger animals into the group, if anything happens to him, they will take control rather than it being passed down to Bramble, his second in command.

Neville

Neville, stepped out of his cosy little house into the crisp morning air. A piece of parchment danced in the breeze, caught on a twig by his door. 

“QUALIFIED VOLUNTEERS WANTED

to promote equal opportunities for all creatures.”

He recalled the dusty tome he’d read in his teacher’s library – _The Tale of a Pig called Napoleon who had declared all animals equal_. Hmm, didn’t end well for the other animals… But that was just a story, right?

The forest’s whispers about the Necromouser bothered him more.  Neville wanted peace, not conflict, and he would do whatever he could to secure it. 

He packed a small bag, adding an extra grasshopper shortcake (just in case). His teacher, the wise Beaver, had been… let’s say, “differently-hirsute” since the Great Potion Mishap.

Neville winced, remembering the look on his teacher’s face when the wrongly mixed herbs had caused… _ahem_ “regrowth issues”. His teacher’s normally impressive fur was now… patchy.

Shrugging, Neville grinned. “He’ll thank me when the summer comes.”

He chased after the flyer as it played off into the trees, laughing. Time to find Maverick.

Neville is a young Frog armed with a staff, which counts as a one-handed weapon and the knowledge of both the Cure and Haste spells.

His skills after modifiers are.

Leaper

Swim

Delicate (2)

Weak (2)

He is level 2 and comes in at 36 pennies.

Neville is young and immature; he wants to see the fun in everything and does his best not to allow any of his many mistakes to get him down.  To Neville, everything is fun; he has absolutely no filter when it comes to laughing at things, even at the most inappropriate times.