The War in the Willows - Chapter One

The Misfits were huddled beneath the ancient oak, debating their next move, when a rustle in the branches above caught their attention. Cawliver Longbow, a sleek crow with a bow strapped across his back, peered down at them with piercing eyes.

“Ahem, pardon me,” he croaked, “caw… Ah, excuse me, did you say North Piddle? Why, I’m headed that way myself. Meeting up with the Stillwater Irregulars. And I heard ‘Les Betes Libre’ are heading there too.”

Morrigan spoke up, “Ah, yes. North Piddle was my suggestion, after all.”

The others nodded in agreement, as Cawliver’s gaze lingered on them for a moment.

…The silence stretched out, thick and awkward, like a mist that refused to lift. Cawliver’s eyes seemed to bore into the Misfits, as if searching for something. The wind rustled the leaves, and a twig snapped in the underbrush, but the group remained frozen, unsure how to respond.

Finally, Cawliver broke the silence, his voice low and contemplative. “Caw… that’s peculiar,” he said, brushing away a wisp of black-green mist that had drifted down from the branches.

“Well, it’s been… pheasant company, my friends,” he continued, his tone unchanged. “But I must catch up to the Stillwater Irregulars. As a new recruit, I can’t be late! You know what they say about a group of Ravens, after all… Maybe I’ll see you at North Piddle.”

With a slow flap of his wings, Cawliver took to the air, flying off to the northwest, leaving the Misfits to ponder his words.

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As the Mavericks Misfits continued their way to North Piddle, they spotted a sleek, russet-coated fox standing by the side of the road. She was dressed in a fine velvet cloak and wore a worried expression.

“Good morrow, travellers,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Forgive me, but I was wondering if I might impose upon you for an escort? I’m Lady Reynardine, and I’m heading home to Foxglove Manor, just outside North Piddle. With all this talk of the Necromouser, I must admit I’m feeling a bit… uneasy.”

Phillipe, doffing his hat with a flourish, stepped forward with a charming smile. “Zut alors, my lady! Ze pleasure ees all mine. I, Phillipe, shall escort you ‘ome, zis very moment! We’re ‘eaded that way ourselves, no trouble at all.”

Maverick nodded in agreement, and Morrigan rolled his eyes with an exasperated look.

Rena laughed, a throaty sound. “Thank you, Phillipe. And thank you, all of you. I feel much safer with you around me.”

As they walked, Phillipe kept up a stream of charming banter, and Rena laughed along with him. The Misfits continued on their way, alert for any signs of danger.

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The mission is to speak with the villagers of North Piddle to gather information points.  Information points are a way of establishing how much intelligence we have gathered about the goings on regarding the Necromouser.  As a side quest, I rolled ‘escort’ and have to ensure Rena gets across the table.

It turns out that this was actually going to be a 4-player game.  I know one of the other Warbands is another group of Free Beasts, but as for the other two, I have no idea.

The Misfits arrived in North Piddle as the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the village. Lady Rena pointed towards a path leading up to Foxglove Manor, her ancestral home nestled in the rolling hills. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get home before nightfall. Phillipe, Maverick, Thomas, would you mind escorting me?”

Phillipe doffed his hat. “Ze pleasure ees all mine, my lady. We’ll make sure you get ‘ome safe.”

Maverick and Thomas nodded, and the three of them set off with Rena, heading up the path towards the manor.

Meanwhile, Bramble took charge. “Right, we’re gonna check the houses on the way to the river. See if anyone’s seen or heard anything about the Necromouser.”

Morrigan groaned. “Seriously?”

Bramble raised an eyebrow.

Morrigan huffed, flapping his cloak as he flew off towards the nearest house. “Fine. I’ll start knocking.”

He landed on the doorstep and rapped on the door, startling a sleepy-looking villager. “Yes? What do you want?”

Bramble scanned the quiet streets. As they walked, a faint green mist drifting from the trees to the west, just across the river, slowly drifted in the direction of the town.

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It turned out that also visiting North Piddle were not one, but two Undead Warbands and that, just possibly, one of those may also include the Necromouser.  My plan was to get in, speak to people to get some info and get out before the evil forces got too close.

Morrigan stood on the doorstep, his eyes glazing over as the villager, a stuttering old Rabbit, began to ramble.

“…and then, you see, the sheep got sick. Just like that. One minute they were fine, next thing they’re lying about, won’t eat nothing…”

Morrigan yawned, his gaze drifting to the trees across the river. That green wisp was still there, and it was way more interesting than this bloke’s stories.

“Uh-huh,” he said, not really listening. “So, uh, did you see anything… unusual? Like, people lurking about?”

The villager blinked, taken aback. “Unusual? Oh, no, no, nothing like that. Just the usual. Well, except for the mist. It came through a few nights ago…”

Morrigan’s attention snapped back, just for a split second. “What did you say?”

But the villager was off again, rambling about the weather and the crops, and Morrigan’s eyes glazed over once more.

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Maverick, sensing that the misfits could soon be in trouble, left Thomas and Phillip to continue the escort and decided to help question the locals.

He approached the door, his rugged features and piercing gaze making the villager take a step back before he’d even knocked. He rapped on the doorframe, his eyes never leaving the villager’s face.

The villager, a stuttering woman with a basket of fresh bread, looked up at Maverick and seemed to shrink. “Y-yes? W-what can I do for you?”

Maverick’s expression was stone. “Tell me all you know.”

The villager’s eyes widened. “O-oh, the… the obelisk. Y-yes. It just… appeared. Out of nowhere. Like it’d always been there, but… it wasn’t. I swear.”

Maverick’s gaze narrowed. “Where?”

The villager pointed a shaking hand towards the west, in the direction of the river. “O-over there. Past the old mill. It’s… It’s big. Stone. Looks ancient. But… but it wasn’t there yesterday, I swear it.”

Maverick’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes seemed to bore into the villager’s soul. “No one knows where it came from?”

The villager shook her head, eyes darting around nervously. “N-no one. People are… are talking about it. Some say it’s… It’s connected to the Necromouser. But we don’t know.”

Maverick nodded once, a curt gesture, and turned to leave. The villager watched him go, relief washing over her face as he disappeared into the evening shadows.

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Morrigan rolled the worst for trying to gather any information.  I put this down to the fact that he really didn’t care what anyone else had to say.  On the flip side, Maverick rolled a perfect roll and got the maximum amount of information he could get.  I put that down to the fact that I had boosted his presence when I created the Warband, and I had actually printed him out 10% larger than the others to simulate his greater-than-normal presence statistic.

Meanwhile, Thomas got stuck facing a rather large hedge.  Not fancying my chances of getting past it any time soon with just a D4 for movement, I decided that at this point, the party would split up further.

Bramble made her way down the street, eyes scanning the houses, when a mole suddenly burst from the ground and started frantically knocking at a front door

At the same moment, Neville shouted, “Bramble, look out!”

She followed his gaze and saw the green mist creeping around the corner of the house, heading straight for the mole. Ghasts began to coalesce from the fog.

Without hesitation, Neville cast a haste spell on Bramble. Time seemed to slow as her reflexes kicked into overdrive. She sprinted forward, her bow already in hand.

A ghast lunged from the mist, jaws snapping for the mole. Bramble loosed an arrow, hitting the creature in the back as it pounced. The ghast was stunned, momentarily frozen in mid-air, and the mole took advantage, scurrying for the safety of the nearby trees.

Morrigan rolled his eyes as the villager droned on about the local crops. “Yes, yes, very interesting, mate. Thanks for nothing.”

As he turned to leave, a blur of brown fur and green glow hurtled around the corner. A massive rat, its eyes glowing with an otherworldly energy, charged straight at him.

Morrigan’s reflexes kicked in, but he wasn’t fast enough. The rat swung a huge wooden cudgel that looked like it belonged to a giant – and caught Morrigan square on the shoulder.

He crumbled to the ground in a cloud of feathers, his body limp. The villager screamed, backing away in terror.

The rat loomed over Morrigan, its breath hot and fetid. For a moment, it seemed to grin.

Bramble shouted, “NO!”

And the rat charged her.

Neville’s voice squeaked down the street, “Maverick! Help! Oh no, hurry!”

Maverick burst into a sprint, his boots pounding the cobblestones. Neville’s haste spell caught him, and suddenly he was moving like a blur. He closed the distance in a heartbeat.

The rat, its club mid-swing, didn’t stand a chance. Maverick leapt into the air, his massive two-handed sword arcing down with deadly precision. The blade bit deep into the rat’s face with a sickening crunch.

The creature let out a deafening squeak, its body convulsing. The green glow surrounding it flailed wildly before dissipating, and the rat’s massive form collapsed to the ground.

Maverick landed with a thud, his chest heaving. He turned to Bramble, his eyes scanning for danger. “You okay?”

Bramble nodded, her face set in a grim expression. “Yeah. Morrigan…”

Maverick’s gaze fell to the ground, where Morrigan lay motionless, a tangled mess of feathers and black cloth. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes seemed to harden. “Neville, check on Morrigan.”

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The group trudged out of the town, their faces grim. Maverick strode ahead, Morrigan’s limp body slumped over his shoulders. Bramble walked beside him, her eyes fixed on Morrigan’s pale face.

Neville trotted alongside, his young face pinched with worry. “D…do you think he’s…?”

Bramble shook her head. “Don’t say it, Nev. We don’t know.”

Maverick didn’t look up, his eyes fixed on the horizon. His pace didn’t falter, his determined strides eating up the distance.

As they left the town behind, the trees seemed to close in around them, casting long shadows across the path. The only sound was the soft thud of Morrigan’s boots against Maverick’s back, and the distant call of a bird.

Phillipe and Thomas appeared at the edge of the trees, their faces sombre. “What’s happened?” Phillipe asked, his voice low, the worry causing him to revert to his natural English Accent.

Bramble filled them in, her voice hushed. Phillipe’s eyes widened, his hand flying to his mouth.

Maverick didn’t slow, his eyes fixed on some point ahead. The group’s footsteps blended into the forest sounds, leaving the town and its troubles behind. For now, they had to focus on getting Morrigan help.

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So that is where the game ended.  Morrigan got king hit by an undead Brown Rat, who in turn received a perfect hit from Maverick with his Two-handed Sword.  Having haste cast on him allowed him to close the gap, focus and then strike, causing a massive 24 points of damage.