The War in the Willows

Identifying the Lair

Maverick and Bramble huddled over the map, the dim light casting shadows on the worn stone walls of the den. The air was thick with tension.

“Three points, Bramble. We got ’em,” Maverick said, tapping the marked locations. “North Piddle’s stone.  The fields where the Mole was.  And the stone where Philippe got transfixed.’’

Bramble stared at the map.

Maverick’s eyes gleamed. “That means One’s gotta be near the old windmill on Crow’s Peak. Other’s… here, in the depths of Swampwater.”

Bramble nodded, eyes on the ruined chapel at the centre. “And this?”

Maverick’s voice dropped to a whisper. “That’s it. Necromouser’s lair. Has to be.”

Bramble raised an eyebrow. “Ruined chapel’s a classic, Mav.”

Maverick grinned. “Classic’s what they do.”

Bramble matched his grin. “When do we hit it?”

Maverick nodded, eyes on the map. “Dawn.”

____________________

Showdown

The Misfits fanned out around the ruined chapel, the air thick with tension. In the distance, a motley crew of Mushroom Men and deranged squirrels emerged from the trees, their beady eyes fixed on the chapel. The Misfits weren’t the only ones with a grudge against the Necromouser.

Maverick climbed the crumbling steps of a nearby ruin, his eyes scanning the battlefield. “Looks like we’ve got company,” he muttered, spotting the approaching horde.

Bramble, William, and Rose took up positions in the ruins, bows at the ready. “Covering fire, Mav,” Bramble said, her voice cool.

Morrigan took flight, soaring above the ruins to perch atop a crumbling spire. “Got eyes on everything. Mushrooms and squirrels inbound.”

Maximiliano, Thomas, and Philippe advanced cautiously, eyes scanning the underbrush. Philippe’s eyes darted nervously, his fingers twitching.

Neville and Hercules huddled behind a bush, the Herc quacking softly. “Quack… quack-quack… why are we here again?”

Neville grinned, his eyes on the ruined stones ahead of him. “Gonna stop the Necromouser, Herc.  I know you will nail this.”

Hercules quacked nervously, flapping his wings. “Quack! Okay, okay… I’ll be brave… quack…”

The Mushroom Men and squirrels closed in; their eerie chants carried on the wind. The Misfits readied themselves, the air electric with anticipation.

Maverick’s voice cut through the tension. “Get ready, gang. It’s about to get wild.”

Maverick’s eyes snapped up as an old crow circled above, its caw sending a chill down his spine. “Wait,” he muttered. “Where’s the Stillwaters?”

Bramble frowned, scanning the surroundings. “Not here.”

The Misfits exchanged looks. Philippe’s eyes widened. “Zut. Le Necromouser… il était juste un pion.”

The crow’s caw grew louder, its wings beating the air with a creaking sound. The Misfits realised the truth: the Necromouser was just a pawn, paving the way for…

“The Necrowmancer,” Maverick growled, his eyes fixed on the crow.

The crow’s wings beat more slowly as it came to land amid the strange standing stones.  Its eyes burned with an otherworldly malevolence, and it spoke in a voice like rustling leaves.

“You are… interruptions.”

The Misfits readied themselves.  This wasn’t just a battle – it was a showdown.

Maverick’s grin was feral. “Game on.”

As he spoke, green mist started to bellow from the standing stones.

–

Morrigan’s eyes scanned the woods. “Watch it, gang! Incoming!”

Four warbands emerged from the trees, their eyes fixed on the chapel. Koda’s Templars in their gleaming armour, A group of mostly owls and two groups of mixed animals.

Morrigan snorted. “Great. More backstabbers.”

Maverick’s voice boomed. “Misfits, watch each other’s backs! Don’t trust ’em!”

Bramble nodded, her bow trained on the Necrowmancer. “Got it, Mav.”

The warbands closed in, their leaders eyeing the chapel and the Necrowmancer.

Philippe’s eyes darted between them. “Mon dieu… what do they want?”

Thomas growled. “Don’t care. We got our own mess.”

Hercules quacked nervously, flapping his wings. Neville patted him down. “Stick close, Herc.”

The air was thick with tension. The Necrowmancer cawed again, halting the warbands in their tracks as hordes of ghasts bellowed forth from the Strange standing stones in the centre of the ruins.

Koda’s Templars charged forward.  Ghasts erupted from the mist, talons outstretched – bear-like owls among them.  The Templars clashed with the Ghasts, steel biting into twisted flesh.

The Necrowmancer cawed, raising its wings. Deathbolts – black, pulsing orbs – shot towards the Templars. They raised their shields, but the bolts exploded in bursts of necrotic energy, sending Templars stumbling.

The Necrowmancer vanished in a flicker of dark smoke, reappearing safe from harm and far out of reach of the rampaging knights “Die.” it rasped, its voice like dry leaves.

As it mutters that single word, a huge Ghast appeared before Koda and Barry the Bastard, now separated from the rest of the templars and blocking their path to its master.

The Misfits watched, poised – waiting for their moment.

Maverick muttered, “Not our fight… yet.”

The Ghasts and Templars were locked in brutal combat. The other warbands watched, waiting for weakness.

Maverick looked at Herc, “Time to shine.”

–

Hercules closed his eyes, muttering a string of quacks and flapping his wings. He pointed a wing at the bear-owl Ghast blocking the Templars, then at Morrigan perched atop the ruins.

Morrigan’s eyes widened as the air shimmered. With a sudden snap of magic, he and the Ghast swapped places.

The bear-owl Ghast squawked, staggering wildly atop the ruins – stuck.

Bramble didn’t hesitate. She drew her bow, loosed a single arrow. The Ghast let out a mournful screech as it tumbled, dead before it hit the ground.

Morrigan grinned, dusting off his coat. “Thanks, Herc.”

Hercules quacked proudly, puffing his chest.

Maverick raised an eyebrow. “Nice work, Misfits.”

The Templars paused, surprised – then nodded towards the Misfits. A truce, maybe.

With the path now clear, Barry the Bastard burst forward, mace raised, and swung with all his might. The Necrowmancer took the blow, knocking it to its knees, bones crunching.

Before Barry could finish it, a Squirrel from the Mushroom Warband – teeth bared – hurled a fireball. The Necrowmancer exploded in a burst of black feathers and magic.

The Koda Templars saw red. “COWARDS!” They turned on the Mushroom Men, their blades flashing.

The Mushroom Men shrieked, charging to meet the Templars.

The battle turned chaotic.

Maverick watched, calculating. “Misfits. Stay sharp and let’s get this done.”

–

Neville’s eyes gleamed as he cast haste on Morrigan and Hercules. Morrigan’s wings beat like mad as he swooped in, grabbing the Necrowmancer’s severed head. He turned and started the retreat –

Hercules focused, pointing a wing. Transpose.

Morrigan and Thomas swapped places in a blink.

Thomas now held the head, grimacing at the gore. He stuffed it into a box and loaded it up on his shell.

Morrigan reappeared, grinning. “Nice switch, Herc!”

Hercules quacked happily.

The Misfits closed ranks, defensive line tight. “Got the head,” Thomas said, patting the box.

Maverick nodded. “Hold. Payout’s coming.”

–

The other warbands surged, overwhelming the Misfits. Maverick blocked the path to his crew the best he could.

Thomas pushed forward. He took hits – brutal ones – but kept marching.

Neville’s voice was a mantra. “Heal! Heal! Heal!” Spells flared, mending Thomas’s wounds.

The Snail didn’t stop. Broken, bleeding, he pushed through the tide.

Morrigan screamed, “Get him back!”

The Misfits fought to clear a path. Arrows flying overhead from William, Rose and Bramble.

Maverick yelled, “NOW!”

Morrigan swooped forward, wings beating hard. Thomas tossed him the box containing the Necrowmancer’s head. Morrigan grasped it – then crashed to the ground, the weight unexpected.

He scrambled up, dusting himself off. “Grim… thing…”

Morrigan grabbed the box’s handle, dragging it towards Bramble. “Got… the… head…”

Bramble raised an eyebrow, “Smooth, Morrigan.”

Rose burst from the ruins, snatched the box from Morrigan, and bolted. The Misfits shifted to cover her retreat.

“Mission accomplished” Maverick yelled. “Fall back!”

Arrows rained from the Misfits’ line – Bramble’s delivering precision shots

The warbands snarled, halted by the sudden barrage, as the Misfits vanished into the trees.

_

Morrigan patted Thomas’s shell, grinning. “Nice work, buddy. Unstoppable.”

Thomas smiled, “Thanks, Morrigan. Your plan to relay the loot worked a treat.”

Morrigan chuckled. “Got it from a story, mate. About a Hare and a Tortoise. Turns out the Tortoise used other Tortoises to do a relay – tricked the Hare and won the race. Thought, you’re a bit like a Tortoise, why not?”

The Misfits laughed. Thomas snorted. “Guess that Tortoise was onto something.”

Maverick nodded, amused. “Job done.”