The War in the Willows - Chapter One

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, banking 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.