The War in the Willows

Cult Raid

Bramble nodded, decisive. “Right, no point waiting. We’ll head to the northern fields, see if we can get a lead on these Cultists. No sense going back to the den now Mav’s… resting.”

The group set off, arriving at the small settlement as the sun dipped low. The place was quiet – too quiet.

Thomas frowned, hand on his mace, and approached a cottage. Suddenly, a screaming cultist burst out, eyes wild. Thomas swung his club in a vicious arc, connecting with the cultist’s skull with a sickening crunch.

But the cultist didn’t flinch. It kept coming, arms outstretched.

Maximiliano charged in, sword flashing. “¡Cuidado!” He struck the cultist with a powerful blow, but it barely registered. The cultist kept standing.

Phillipe followed, charging into the fray… and tripped over his own feet, landing hard on his arse. “Merde!”

The cultist finally collapsed, dispatched by Thomas’s mace. Phillipe stood up, dusting himself off, and tried to get some sense out of the group.

“Zut, did anyone get anything from-“

A torch sailed through the air, landing on the thatched roof of a nearby house, setting it ablaze. Flames crackled to life.

Maximiliano yelled, “¡Fuego! Guess we’re doing this.”

Neville laughed, torching another building. “Burn baby burn!”

Thomas grunted, eyeing the chaos. “Find more cultists. Thump ’em.”

Morrigan emerged from a house, jingling coins in his pocket. “Found some pennies. Now what?”

Phillipe threw up his hands. “Mon dieu, ze plan, it is… evolving…”

Bramble shouted, “Contain the fire, don’t burn the whole settlement! We need info!”

PANDEMIC CHAOS!

Morrigan took to the skies, crowing wildly. The cultists, already unhinged, lost it completely as Morrigan dive-bombed them, flanking wildly. Bramble frantically took them down with precision arrows, shouting, “MORRIGAN, FOCUS!”

Meanwhile, Max and Neville were having a blast, torching everything flammable. “¡Más fuego!” Max yelled, igniting a hay bale.

Phillipe, oblivious, knocked politely on a burning door. “Excusez-moi, is anyone… uh… home?”

Thomas thundered through the chaos, mace swinging. “WHERE’S THE NEXT ONE?!”

Bramble facepalmed, reloading her bow. “This is… we need… dammit…” 

Through the smoke and chaos, the group spotted the weird mushroom creatures, led by squirrel sorcerers, taking down cultists left and right. Barry the Bastard, massive and menacing, lumbered into view with The Templars Khaotica – a  bunch of armour-clad psychopaths.

Bramble yelled, “Time to GTFO! Now!”

Neville laughed maniacally, still torching stuff. “WOOOO!”

Morrigan and Phillipe grabbed Thomas, who was still swinging his mace, growling, “One more… just ONE more cultist…”

They dragged him back towards the forest. “Thomas, it’s time to go! Other mercenaries arrived – and they’re weirder than us!”

The group melted into the trees, watching the chaos behind them. Barry and the squirrels were handling things.

As they vanished into the forest, Neville chuckled, “Best. Day. Ever.”

Bramble shook her head. “Mav’s gonna kill us.”

______________________________

Well, that didn’t go entirely to plan.

It turns out that the cultists were surprisingly resilient to being whacked.

With this being a 3-player game, there just was not the time to spend dallying around, especially with Kodas Templars bearing down on me.  That gang is terrifying.  The gang of shrooms also set about efficiently gaining intel at an alarming rate.

I did manage to get some coins and a small amount of intelligence on the Necromouser, but more important, was to get in and out as quickly as possible before the other two, vastly superior gangs got hold of me.

Once again, nowhere near a win for the Misfits, but we all survived.

Bramble’s brow furrowed as she scanned the ledgers, her finger tracing the columns of numbers. Thomas’s handwriting was neat, but the numbers weren’t looking good.

Seven pennies. That was all they had left. Not even enough to feed them, let alone get the other supplies they needed.

She glanced at Maverick, sleeping soundly on the bed. He needed rest, not worries about money.

Neville’s herb bag was almost empty, and without it, their healing options were zilch. They needed coin, and fast.

Bramble tapped the pennies on the desk. Maybe… just maybe… Max would have an idea. Not bending the rules, exactly. More like… creatively interpreting them.

She smiled wryly.  Yeah, that was a plan. Wake the crew and see what Max has got.

_

Maximiliano grinned, eyes sparkling. “Ah, sí! We liberate ze wealthy animals of ze local towns from ze burden of so many pennies! ¡Es un acto de caridad!”

Neville nodded solemnly. “That’s true, it must be really tiring carrying all that weight around.”

Thomas looked gobsmacked, stuttering, “W-what? No, Max, no. We can’t just… that’s… that’s…”

Morrigan sighed, “For the love of gods, can we move on? This is dull.”

Phillipe intervened, “Pardon, mais perhaps we could take on a job? Zere are plenty advertised at ze market square for those handy with a sword. Mercenary work, non?”

Bramble nodded, “Now that’s a plan. Pays coin, keeps us busy.”

Maximiliano chuckled. “Ah, Phillipe, siempre el sensato. Okay, ze job, eet ees a plan.”

Thomas looked relieved. “J-jobs. Yes. Good.”

____________________

As the group approached the market square, the atmosphere hit them like a cold breeze. It was quieter than usual, the usual bustle replaced by hushed conversations and nervous glances.

Sanders stood by the notice board, arms crossed, while Kentucky added another poster to the growing collection. The group’s eyes landed on the latest addition:

Bramble raised an eyebrow. “Northern fields. That’s where the mole was, where the Ghasts appeared.”

Thomas nodded grimly. “And they’re offering a respectable and honest amount of compensation, after taxes and other deductions.”

Maximiliano spoke up, a sly glace in his eye. “Ah, maybe we no just kill ze Cultists, sí? Maybe we interrogate, see if zey know anything about ze Necromouser?”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “Hmm. Worth considering.”

Phillipe nodded. “Oui, could give us leverage.”

Kentucky frowned. “Just be careful.”

Sanders added, “If you’re gonna do it, be alert. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

The group exchanged a look. This was gonna be messy.

____________________

Maverick’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up with a jolt.

The den was empty, but his mind was racing. The stone, the rat, the Stillwater Irregulars… it was all clicking into place.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, brain ticking over.

First, the stone appears, and they get a tip about the mole.

Then, he remembered – the mole incident, the direction the Ghasts came from…

There was a stone near there.

Same as the one that appeared initially in North Piddle. Mav’s gut told him they were onto something.

Irregulars were up to something, and it wasn’t just petty thug stuff. This was bigger.

He staggered to his feet, grabbing at his armour. He needed to get dressed, find the others…

But as he tugged on his leathers, exhaustion hit like a wave. Mav’s vision swam, and he collapsed back onto the bed, breathing hard. “Bugger… Bramble’s gonna kill me…” he muttered, passing out.

Training and Den Upgrade

Morrigan swooped down, his black wings beating fiercely as he landed outside the Den. His scowl deepened as he spotted Thomas, drill sergeant-style, barking orders at himself.

“Left, right, left, right… about… TURN! Halt! Check one, two.”

Morrigan stormed over. “Thomas. What. Is. The. Meaning. Of. This?” He shoved the Ombudsman’s letter into Thomas’s chest.

Thomas caught mid-“left, right”, stopped. His eyes widened as he saw the letter. “Ah. Morrigan. Just… just practising drill discipline.”

Thomas’s eyes widened as Morrigan turned his back, stormed off, and drew his bow. “Morrigan, don’t—”

Twang.

An arrow thunked into the ground a few feet from Thomas, who jumped back, eyes fixed on the vibrating shaft.

Thomas glared at the arrow, then at Morrigan.  “Morrigan. You. Are. A. Nincompoop.”

Twang.

Another arrow landed with a soft thud, this one mere inches from Thomas’s boot. He yelled, jumping back like he’d stepped on a hot coal.

Morrigan called out sweetly, “Fancy footwork, Thomas?”

Thomas glared deathly at Morrigan. “YOU. ARE. GOING. TO. RUN. OUT. OF. ARROWS.”

Inside the Den, Maximiliano watched Thomas jumping around through a window, unaware of what was actually happening outside.  A grin spread across his face. “¡Está bailando! He’s dancing the Flamenco!”

He nudged Neville. “We should get him some castanets. Thomas would be fantastic with castanets.”

Neville looked confused but shrugged. “Sure, Max. Castanets it is.”

Twang, twang, twang.

Arrows rained down, each landing closer than the last. Thomas yelled, dodging and leaping like a madman.

Bramble, noticing an arrow fly past the window, burst out of the Den, eyes scanning wildly. “HE’S NOT DANCING! SOMEONE’S SHOOTING AT HIM!”

Her gaze locked on Morrigan, still firing arrows with a wicked grin.

Her face darkened. “MORRIGAN, STOP IT! NOW!”

Thomas, lying sprawled on the ground, wheezed a thanks as Bramble stormed over, shielding him.

Morrigan lowered his bow, looking sheepish. “Just… having a bit of fun.”

Bramble glared. “Fun? You could’ve hit him!”

Bramble stood tall, hands on hips, glaring at Morrigan and Thomas. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense. One of you’s gonna end up dead.”

She jerked a thumb at Maverick, lying on a bed just inside the open Den door, Neville tending to him. “Mav’s out for a bit. Meanwhile, I’m in charge.”

She turned to Morrigan. “You wanna shoot stuff? Build an archery range. Maybe Twinkle Toes here can help.” She gestured at Thomas, still catching his breath.

Thomas bristled. “Twinkle Toes?”

Morrigan smirked. “An archery range. Sounds like a plan.”

Bramble’s gaze didn’t waver. “Good. It’s settled. Now sort it out.”

____________________

Wandering into the Wilds

Max and Neville slipped out of the Den, trying not to draw attention to themselves as Bramble continued to vent at Morrigan and Thomas.

As they hit the trees, Neville nudged Max. “Gonna do more crime? Break some more rules?”

Max flashed a charming grin. “Ah, Neville, amigo, ve are not breaking ze rules, ve are… ‘bending’ them, sí? Reshaping them, like a master craftsman, to be something más… amicable.”

Neville’s eyes widened, totally buying it. “Ooh, like… rule origami!”

Max laughed, clapping Neville on the back. “¡Exacto! Ze origami of rules, eet ees a beautiful thing, no? Ve are not rule-breakers, ve are rule-renovators, eh?”

Neville beamed. “I’m gonna renovate some rules, then!”

Max winked. “¡Eso es el espíritu! Let’s go find some bendy rules, amigo.”

____________________

As they approached the temple of light, a trio of female Rabbits in flowing white robes greeted them, their noses twitching and eyes bright.

One rabbit, seemingly the leader, stepped forward, her gaze locking onto Max. “Ah, a weary traveller. You are wounded, señor. Come, let us tend to you.”

Neville opened his mouth to clarify, but Max shot him a look, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“Ah, gracias, mi conejas encantadoras. I am but a poor, wounded soul, in need of your gentle care.” He winced dramatically, limping forward.

The rabbits cooed, ushering Max onto a nearby bench, fussing over him with twigs and potions. Neville trailed behind, trying to interject.

“Uh, no, really, he’s fine, I—”

Max winked at him, enjoying the attention. “Sí, Neville, I am but a frail flower, in need of their tender loving care.”

The lead rabbit, besotted, began stroking Max’s hair. “Rest, señor. We shall make you whole again.”

Neville rolled his eyes. “Max, you’re not even hurt…”

Max just smiled, basking in the attention. “Gracias, mis amigas. You are too kind.”

____________________

As dusk fell, the rabbits presented Max and Neville with bundles of fragrant herbs and whispered invitations to return soon.

With a contented sigh, Max stood, stretching like a cat. “Gracias, mis conejas. You’ve worked your magic. We’re refreshed, renewed, and ready for… rule-renovation.”

Neville, still grinning, nodded emphatically. “Yeah, and I’m gonna float away!”

The two friends ambled off into the night, feeling wonderfully relaxed, as the Rabbits watched them go.

____________________

Reflection

Phillipe slumped against a tree, looking dejected. “I… I don’t know, Bramble. I felt like a complete fool out there. My sword work was abysmal.”

Bramble strode over, her expression softening. “Phil, your sword work might’ve been off, but your courage wasn’t. You charged in without hesitating, that’s bravery, no doubt about it.”

Phillipe looked up, a hint of doubt still lingering. “Really? I just felt… slow.”

Bramble clapped him on the back. “Slow? You were fierce! – You’re not the only one with off days. Point is, you didn’t back down. That’s what counts.”

Phillipe’s shoulders straightened slightly. “You think so?”

Bramble nodded. “I do. And Mav said you’d be back to your fancy sword-fighting self in no time. So, chin up, yeah?”

A small smile crept onto Phillipe’s face. “Thanks, Bramble. Just needed a bit of a boost.”

Bramble grinned. “Now, where’s that French accent we all love, Phil? ‘Ze sword, eet ees in ze wrong place!’ or something like that?”

Phillipe chuckled, a shrug lifting his shoulders. “Ah, ze accent, eet ees hiding, Bramble. Maybe ze embarrassment, eet ees hiding eet too?”

Bramble laughed. “Well, bring it back. We miss it. And maybe practice some sword-fighting quips in French – Morrigan won’t know what’s hit him.”

Phillipe grinned, a hint of the swagger returning. “Ooh la la, ze Morrigan, he ees doomed, no?”

Bramble smiled, “Now let’s go find the others – before Max bends more rules with those Rabbits.”

______________________________

And what does that all mean exactly?

Maverick was the only person who suffered any effects from an injury roll and has to sit out the next game while he is laid up. There is no long-term damage so he will be back in action soon.  In the meantime, Bramble will step up to lead the Misfits.

Morrigan and Thomas both got to roll on the advancement table after doing a bit of training.  Morrigan got to improve his Ranged statistic, whilst Thomas got to improve his Nimbleness.  That in itself is funny, considering he is a snail.

For Den upgrades, I went with an Archery Range.  Something that would have helped generate more income would probably have been a wiser investment, but my ragtag group are managing to scrape by…just.

Maximilliano led Neville as they wandered once more into the wilds and came across the Temple of Light.  As a result, Max can now ignore his next roll on the Major Injuries Table.

I didn’t end up with much in the way of remaining pennies after paying upkeep, and my coffers currently stand at a measly 7 pennies.  Neville has proved himself time and time again, managing to get perfect rolls just when I needed them.  I would like to get him some more ingredients because I have a feeling his lucky dice rolls will eventually run out.

Thanks to Maverick resting, I will be going into my next battle with quite a low rating, which has the benefit of giving me more fate points to distribute.  Those will definitely come in handy now that I have several models with the Lucky skill.

I am aware that lots of the other players in the campaign have managed to stumble across magic items and all sorts of fancy things. I, in turn, am struggling to find the pennies to even equip all my gang with swords.  But we will get there.  I have faith in this motley crew.

I am having an absolute blast with this campaign, and the stories just seem to write themselves.

Neville’s gaze drifted out the window, his eyes fixed on the thick fog that shrouded the forest. “Ugh, why can’t I just zap the Necromouser with lightning? Life would be so much easier,” he muttered to himself.

In the library corner, Morrigan was busy tormenting Thomas. “Thomas, Thomas, Thomas… you’re doing it all wrong. These books need to be organised by colour, not alphabet. Alphabetical is so… boring.”

Thomas’s antennae twitched frantically as he struggled to keep up with Morrigan’s demands. “B-but Morrigan, alphabetical is the standard way to-“

Morrigan cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Standard way is for suckers, Thomas. Colour-coded is where it’s at.”

Thomas’s nervous twitch turned into a full-blown spasm, his eyes darting wildly between the books. Morrigan chuckled, clearly enjoying the snail’s distress.

Just as Morrigan was about to give Thomas another instruction, Neville’s jaw dropped open in shock. “Guys… the fog… It’s gone!”

The group turned to stare out the window, where the fog had indeed vanished, revealing an eerily clear forest.

Morrigan’s grin faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. “Well, well, well…”

Thomas let out a sigh of relief, glad for the distraction from Morrigan’s colour-coded chaos. “What do you think happened to the fog?” he asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

Suddenly, they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

____________________

The Mole Hunt

The group’s eyes locked onto the messenger, a wiry little weasel with an urgent look in his eye. “Mole’s got info on the Necromouser,” he panted. “Says it’s crucial. You gotta talk to him, pronto.”

Morrigan’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s the Mole?”

The weasel swallowed. “Hiding out in the ploughed fields just north of Snodsbury. Says it’s too risky to move.”

Maverick nodded, already moving. “We’ll take care of it. Everybody, gear up.”

Maximiliano cracked his knuckles. “Time for a thrashing?”

The group’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “If necessary,” Maverick growled.

____________________

The Side Quest

Thomas stepped forward, his expression serious, and handed Morrigan a sealed envelope. “Morrigan, no matter what happens, it’s vital this letter gets delivered.”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “From you? What’s in it, then?”

Thomas’s face remained stern. “Just… just make sure it gets to the address written on it. It’s critical.”

Morrigan snorted, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “You think I’m the best choice? Interesting.”

Morrigan glanced at the envelope, then tucked it away with a flourish. “Don’t worry, Thomas. I’ll get it delivered. After all, someone’s got to save the day.”

______________________________

For this next game, we were playing the Mole Hunt, and for one of my side quests, I rolled up Deliver the Message.  The main mission was to locate the mole, rough him up a bit, and get the information from him.   The side quest was for one of my characters to be chosen to carry a message off the table edge via the opponent’s deployment zone.

______________________________

The Battle

The group’s eyes scanned the fields, the only sound the rustle of dry earth beneath their feet. Bramble’s gaze snapped upwards, her eyes locking onto a sleek crow swooping low over the ground.

“Cawliver!” she called out, a mix of surprise and curiosity on her face.

As she recalled their awkward meeting with the crow when he was on his way to join the Stillwater Irregulars, the air seemed to grow thick. The trees surrounding the field began to writhe and twist, and the air became suddenly colder.

Cawliver cawed, a low, raspy sound, and the trees seemed to shudder. The shadows coalesced into ghastly forms – the Stillwater Irregulars, glowing with an eerie green mist.

Maverick’s eyes narrowed. “The Irregulars… are Undead?”

Bramble’s eyes widened. “Cawliver’s gone… dark.”

The Undead lurched forward, their mist swirling, eyes fixed on the group. Maverick’s grin was feral and hungry. “Looks like we’ve got old friends.” As he saw the huge shape of a Brown Rat entwined with green whisps.

Bramble’s arrow thunked into Cawliver’s shoulder, the crow letting out a pained squawk as he stumbled mid-air. The Ghasts surged forward, undead eyes fixed on the group.

Max, Thomas, Philippe, and Maverick fanned out, weapons at the ready. Morrigan took to the air, landing at the far left of the line with a flourish.

Neville’s grin grew wider as he unleashed a lightning bolt at the towering undead Giant Brown Rat. “Eat this!”

The rat, eyes glowing green, whipped out a magic mirror with surprising speed. “Reflectio!” it squeaked.

The lightning struck the mirror – which shattered with a crash. The bolt fizzled into nothingness, sparing Neville.

The rat chuckled, a low, evil sound. “Pathetic.”

The Undead closed in, the group’s battle cry echoing across the field.

Maverick led the charge, Max and Philippe following close behind.

They crashed into the Ghast horde, steel clashing with undead determination.

Philippe swung his sword with wild abandon, more conductor than warrior, “C’est un massacre!” he declared, continuing to swing his sword in an ineffectual manner.

 Thomas lumbered forward, his mace arched through the air, crunching into a Ghast with a meaty thump, splattering undead bits everywhere.

Morrigan’s eyes narrowed, annoyance flickering across his face. “How is he…? Ugh, Thomas is actually good at this,” muttering under his breath. “Doesn’t matter, my mission’s the priority. Delivering this letter trumps Thomas’s smash-fest any day.”

He took to the air once more. “I’ll still be the hero when this is done. Thomas can be the bruiser.” A Ghast looked at Morrigan, who held up a dismissive hand. “Shoo. I’ve got bigger things to do.”

Maverick stumbled under the Giant Rat’s fury, its claws and teeth tearing at his armour. The undead horde surged around him, their blows raining down like a hail of hammers. He gritted his teeth, muscles screaming as he fought to stay upright.

Thomas, eyes fixed on Maverick, ploughed through the undead with grim determination. His mace swung in slow, crushing arcs, clearing a path through the Ghasts. “Maverick… hold… on!” he grunted, each word punctuated by a meaty thump.

Morrigan watched, a mix of concern and calculation on his face. “Maverick’s taking a beating… Thomas is almost there.”

____________________

The Giant Rat squeaked triumphantly, landing a solid blow that sent Maverick to one knee. Thomas’s mace crushed a Ghast, splattering it into goo. “Almost… there…”

Maverick collapsed, his massive sword slipping from his grasp as he hit the dirt. Blood poured from his wounds, his chest heaving with exhaustion.

The Giant Rat raised a claw, ready to finish him off – but Neville’s eyes flashed. “Levioso… FIXIO!” he shouted, channelling all his willpower into the spell.

The air around Maverick shimmered. Energy burst forth, lifting him off the ground. Wounds knitted shut, his heart steadied, and fury surged back into his veins.

Maverick roared, alive with renewed power.

Bramble’s arrows thunked into the Ghast’s face, one after another, with deadly precision. Just as the Misfits started to push forward, a massive BOOM shook the ground, echoing across the fields.

The Ghasts stumbled, their green glow faltering as the blast sent them reeling. The Stillwater Irregulars wretched and wailed, their undead legs buckling.

The Musfits seized the moment, pressing their advantage. The Ghasts fell back, disorganised.

Bramble’s eyes narrowed, scanning the field. “They got to the Mole first,” she said, her voice tight with realisation.

In the distance, Morrigan’s dark form swooped away, vanishing into the trees.

____________________

Side Quest Complete

Morrigan stood before the unassuming door, the address on the envelope matching the worn sign: “Ombudsman”. He puffed out his chest, smoothing his attire.

He rapped on the door, a confident knock. The wait felt like an eternity.

_

The door swung open, revealing a stern elderly tortoise peering over half-framed glasses. “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice dry as old parchment.

Morrigan’s bravado faltered for a moment – what was an Ombudsman? – but he recovered. “Delivery,” he said, offering the envelope.

_

The ombudsman unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning the contents. A tut escaped his lips, disappointment etched on his face. He looked up at Morrigan, his gaze solemn.

The tortoise handed the letter back to Morrigan, his expression unyielding. “It shall all be recorded in the official archives,” he intoned, as if that was the end of the matter.

The door creaked shut, leaving Morrigan standing there, looking stunned.

“…Reward?” he mumbled weakly to himself, feeling a bit silly.

_

Morrigan’s eyes widened as he scanned the letter, his face growing hotter with each line. 

Morrigan’s eyes landed on the final insults. “Nincompoop? Baffoon?” He spluttered, outrage rising.

“Thomas wrote this? I’ll show him organisation.” He stuffed the letter into his cloak, muttering darkly about snack accountability.

______________________________

And that means?

Morrigan got the task of delivering an important message.  I figured he had the best chance of completing it, which he did.

Maverick took an absolute pounding, getting down to one hit point remaining.  Luckily, Neville came to the rescue in time, managing to get two successive cure spells off and restoring him to almost full health.

Thomas was a beast in combat, blows bouncing off his hard shell.

The game technically ended in a draw, with the Irregulars finding the mole but not escaping with the information; they took a few casualties for their efforts, though, whilst the Mavericks managed to get through without anyone going out of action once again.

Next up, I will go through the post-game phase.

Just as I was preparing the next bit of story for this little adventure, an update from the campaign organiser came through, so what I had written out for the next piece was no longer suitable.  I will get on to writing something new very soon.

Looks like at least 80% of the players in the campaign managed to get the ‘lost in the Fog’ scenario played, which I am very grateful for.

My next game is lined up for this week.

______________________________

Story Quest #3 : The Fog Lifts.

Suddenly, the fog unravels like smoke on the wind, though nothing stirs—gone in heartbeats, leaving not a whisper of its passing. No tracks, no lingering chill, not even a curl of mist clinging to the hollows. The land lies still, too still, as if holding its breath after some great unseen trespass. Though the sky brightens, an uneasy silence weighs upon the earth. Now, with the shroud lifted, the path ahead is clear: gather strength, for the Necromouser’s final refuge awaits—and whatever lurks there has felt your presence… and prepares.

______________________________

You have free rein to play any quest. Note that Quest 16 no longer generates campaign information. The good beasts of North Piddle, Snodsbury and Himbleton no longer answer their doors to strangers. You can still play the quest at outlying villages for experience & pennies if you wish.

______________________________

Just a quick little update of a few more character cards of some of my other painted figures.

Includes Sanders, Kentucky, Barry and a few of the Military personnel that I will cover at some point.

Arriving at the Den

The Misfits gradually rolled in, each looking worn out from their ordeal. Maverick nodded as each arrived, their faces grim.

“No sign of the Necromouser, jefe,” Maximiliano said, shaking his head. “He’s like a ghost, eh?”

Maverick’s expression was stern. “He’s out there, getting stronger by the minute. We need to find him before it’s too late.”

Morrigan landed nearby, his eyes fixed on some point beyond the group. “I navigated the fog. It was trivial.”

Thomas plodded in, looking sheepish, but Morrigan didn’t even glance his way.

Phillipe slipped in, his eyes darting around the room. “Zut, I have news. I saw Briarbrow, the badger from The Bandits of Bracken Tor. They’re also hunting the Necromouser.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances. Maverick’s expression turned thoughtful. “Interesting. We need to be careful.”

Maximiliano nodded as Bramble arrived, looking relieved. “Sí, mi amor, you’re safe. That’s all that matters.” Bramble nodded, her eyes wide. “I’m okay, but I saw some weird stuff in the fog. Like, shadows moving on their own. And I heard whispers. It was creepy.”

Neville approached Morrigan, his eyes shining with admiration. “Morrigan, how did you get through the fog?”

Morrigan’s response was brief. “I flew.”

____________________

The Next Day

Maximiliano’s sword sliced through the air, the blade flashing in the sunlight as he moved with fluid precision. His training session was intense, his focus solely on the movements.

Hiss… swish… tap.

He spun, the sword arcing through a complex pattern, his eyes locked on an invisible foe.

Bramble crouched in the bushes; her eyes fixed on Maximiliano. She watched, mesmerised, as he moved with a quiet confidence. A small smile played on her lips.

Maximiliano paused, sweat beading on his brow, and caught Bramble’s gaze. He grinned sheepishly. “¡Hola, mi amor! Watching me, eh?”

Bramble’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. “Just checking you’re not going to chop your ear off.”

Maximiliano chuckled, lowering his sword. “I’ll try my best.” He walked over to the bushes, offering Bramble a hand. “Want to spar with me?”

____________________

The Scouting Party

Thomas, antennae twitching with importance, led the group through the forest, consulting his map and compass. “Alright, according to protocol, we should head due east to reach the old oak landmark.”

Morrigan snorted, flying ahead and hovering near Thomas’s shoulder. “Oh, great, because Thomas’s sense of direction is infallible. Said no one ever.”

Thomas’s face tightened. “I navigated us out of the fog just fine, thank you.”

Morrigan’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Yeah, that’s why you ended up exactly where we started after walking in circles.  Protocol 12, subsection C blah, blah, blah…'”

Neville chuckled, trying to intervene. “Hey, guys, did you hear about the Snail who took his shell off to move faster?”

Thomas and Morrigan ignored him, locked in their usual battle.

Neville tried again. “It just made him more sluggish!”

Thomas sighed, eyes on the map. “Morrigan, can you scout ahead? Just stay within sight.”

Morrigan mock-failed dramatically, plummeting towards the ground before catching himself. “Oh, sure, because I’m the one who won’t get us lost. Famous last words: ‘Thomas knows what he’s doing.”

Neville laughed awkwardly. “Guys, lighten up… how about this one: why did the rabbit go to the doctor?”

Thomas’s patience wore thin. “Neville, not now.”

Morrigan snarked, “Because he had hare-loss?”

The group lapsed into uneasy silence, Thomas’s antennae twitching with irritation.

As the group continued through the forest, they stumbled upon a hidden clearing with an ancient, moss-covered Temple. Thomas’s eyes widened as he consulted his map.

“This is it! The Temple of the Whispering Oak! I’ve studied it in the Guild archives. It’s a key landmark.”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow, hovering near what he would describe as a decrepit ruin. “So, what’s the big deal?”

Thomas’s excitement grew. “I was part of the team that tried to map this place years ago. We got lost… I got us lost. But I knew it existed! This is proof I wasn’t wrong.”

Neville grinned, patting Thomas’s back. “Told you, Thomas! You’re a genius!”

Morrigan snorted. “A genius who can get lost in a broom closet with the light on.”

Thomas ignored him, approaching the Temple with reverence. “This changes everything. I can update the Guild maps… redeem myself.”

The group explored the shrine, finding ancient symbols and etchings. Thomas carefully transcribed notes, his antennae twitching with vindication.

Morrigan leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. “So, Thomas’s Temple of Awesome. What’s the takeaway?”’

Thomas looked up, a rare smile on his face. “It means I’m not crazy. Fate has brought me here.”

____________________

Den Improvements

The Den’s fire crackled, casting a warm glow over the group. Bramble, Thomas, Phillipe, Morrigan, and Maverick sat around the central table, discussing their findings.

“So, the Temple of the Whispering Oak is out in the wilds,” Thomas said, consulting his notes.

Morrigan snorted. “If Thomas didn’t get the coordinates scrambled.”

Thomas shot him a look. “I double-checked.”

Maverick nodded thoughtfully. “Where’s Max and Neville?”

Bramble checked the clock. “They should be back by morning. Max said they were just picking up a few things.”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. “With Neville as shopping buddy? Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

Bramble smiled. “Neville’s learning. And Maximiliano’s keeping him out of trouble.”

____________________

Maximiliano and Neville stood outside the darkened schoolhouse, the loud snoring of Neville’s former wizard teacher, Professor Pembly, echoing through the windows.

“Alright, Neville, we need to get in,” Maximiliano whispered, gesturing to the upper window. “See that window up there? Looks ajar, sí?”

Neville’s eyes widened. “But… isn’t this breaking in?”

Maximiliano winked. “Borrowing, Neville. We’re borrowing books. For a good cause, amigo.”

Neville looked uncertain, but Maximiliano boosted him up to the window.

They slipped inside, finding themselves in Professor Pembly’s cluttered library. “Ah, perfecto,” Maximiliano whispered, scanning the shelves. “Look at the top shelves, amigo.”

Neville’s eyes widened. “Ooh, you mean the… the restricted ones?”

Maximiliano grinned. “The ones Professor Pembly said you weren’t ready for. But we’re on a mission, sí?”

Neville hesitated, looking torn. “I… I wasn’t allowed to touch those…”

Maximiliano chuckled. “That’s why we’re perfecto for the job. We’re resourceful, Neville.”

Neville’s gaze landed on a book with a gleaming silver clasp. “Ooh… ‘Learn Lightning Bolt’…”

Maximiliano followed his gaze. “Ah, sí… tempting, isn’t it, amigo?”

Neville’s eyes sparkled. “I always wanted to learn that one…”

Maximiliano laughed softly. “Remember, it’s not stealing, we’re liberating the books, freeing them from the confines of the shelves, comprende?”

Neville carefully pulled down the “Learn Lightning Bolt” book, his grin growing wider. “Just for reference, of course.”

Maximiliano chuckled, tucking a few other books into a bag. “Of course, amigo. Let’s go.”

As they slipped back out the window, Neville whispered, “This is going to be epic…”

____________________

The Library 

Maverick surveyed the stack of books on the Den’s table, his eyes widening. “Where did all this come from?”

Maximiliano grinned sheepishly. “Neville and I… uh… ‘borrowed’ them from Professor Pembly’s.”

Maverick facepalmed. “Max, we don’t need more trouble with Magic users of any kind.”

Bramble intervened, sorting through the books. “But think about it, Maverick. This is gold. We could learn so much.”

Maverick’s expression turned thoughtful. “Alright. Phillipe and I will set up a library. We can study, improve our skills.”

Bramble’s eyes lit up. “I’ll help! We can organise it, make it a proper resource.”

Phillipe, hovering nearby, nodded enthusiastically. “Ooh, une bibliothèque! I can help cataloguer!”

Maverick nodded. “Phillipe and I can do the heavy lifting. Let’s make it happen.”

The group set to work, transforming a corner of the Den into a cosy library. Neville slipped in, “Learn Lightning Bolt” book peeking from his bag.

Bramble smiled. “Perfect timing, Nev. We need your expertise.”

As the library took shape, Maverick smiled, a rare sight. “This’ll make us better, stronger.”

____________________

The group stood amidst the burgeoning library, books stacked haphazardly, awaiting organisation. Maverick turned, a nod to Thomas. “Thomas, you’ve got the most… organisational experience. How about you take charge as librarian?”

Thomas’s antennae twitched with excitement. “Me? Really?”

The group nodded, expectant.

Morrigan’s face contorted in horror. “No, no, no! Thomas, you can’t be serious! He’ll… he’ll…”

Morrigan trailed off, realising he was volunteering. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll be the librarian.”

Thomas looked crestfallen, then resigned. “I’ll… help Morrigan.”

Morrigan glared at the group. “This is a catastrophe.”

Bramble chuckled. “Morrigan, you’ll be great. And Thomas can be your… assistant?”

Morrigan’s expression darkened. “Thomas, don’t touch anything without asking.”

The group laughed, relieved. The library was in… questionable hands.

______________________________

And what did all that mean?

The group once again survived without so much as a scratch.

Maximilliano did some training to get the extra XP he needed, which in turn enabled him to get a roll on the advancement table.

My Scouting party, led by Thomas, went into the wilds where they located a Temple of Light.  This meant that Thomas would start the next game with an impressive 5 fate points.

Maverick, Bramble and Phillipe did some labour, so I could build a Den upgrade.  After a little thought, I settled on a Library.  My decision was heavily influenced by the fact that the entire Warband got to roll on the advancement table this round and almost all the rolls were for shooting skill upgrades, except for Bramble, my primary archer, who got to increase her concealment and Morrigan, the only other model armed with a bow, who got an increase to his fortitude.

A library would allow me to slightly adjust future advancement rolls by +/- 1 giving me a little more control over what upgrades each character gets.

I assume that Bramble has been sneaking looks at Maximilliano, and Morrigan’s close call with death in the first battle has had some kind of lasting impression on him.

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.