The War in the Willows

Maverick leaned in, his voice low as he spoke to Bramble in the Den’s quiet corner. “When I touched those symbols on the stone, it was like… I was pulled in. Overcome with a vision, Bramble.”

Bramble’s eyes narrowed, attentive.

Maverick’s gaze drifted, recalling the scene. “I emerged from dark and dusty catacombs into a ruined hamlet, deep in the woods. Overgrown, abandoned… and haunted. Mist Ghasts swirled around the crumbling huts.”

Bramble looked concerned. “What did you see next?”

Maverick’s voice took on a distant tone. “I took flight. Rose up and above the forest, climbing ever higher. And I saw… five standing stones. Lines of power connecting them, forming a pentagram.”

Bramble’s eyes widened slightly. “A pentagram of power. That’s not good.”

Maverick nodded, focus snapping back. “No. I think Brains could be the Necromouser.  And I think we need to get to those stones.”

______________________________

So, it turned out investigating the strange standing stones was a major clue in this campaign and earned me some much-needed information points.  The roll for exactly how many points I gained was, continuing with the trend, pretty woeful, but that’s okay.  So far, I am the only player in the campaign to have actually connected the Statues to the Necromoucer and the Stillwater Irregulars, which is a plus.   I am now convinced that Brains, the Stillwater Irregulars top mage, is the Necromouser.

There are not many games left in this campaign, and I still think I am pretty low down on the running order for how successful each warband has been in gathering information. On the plus side, my little group is surviving well, even without all the fancy kit that is potentially available.

I will do my best to get an updated look at where each character stands and what all the den upgrades are looking like, prior to entering into the final battle in a few weeks.  Until then, we will soldier on and see if we can try to climb the rankings a bit.

William & Rose

William and Rose sat on the porch of Crooked Spire Tavern in Brightleaf, watching the leaves dance in the breeze. The air was alive with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant tang of adventure.

“I’m sick of this place,” Rose said, her voice lipped with a grin. “We need something new, something wild.”

William chuckled, nudging her with his elbow. “Like what? The Cedarwood, maybe? Heard they have an archery competition coming up.”

Rose’s eyes lit up. “Cedarwood, eh? Could be a start. Make some coin, get our names out there.”

William nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. “And after that… who knows? Maybe head to Argentum, try our luck in the big city.”

Rose whistled low. “Argentum? That’s a whole different beast. Think we’re ready for that?”

William shrugged. “Why not? We’ve got skills, we’ve got guts. What more do we need?”

Rose grinned, clipping him with her tail. “Your optimism’s gonna get us killed one day, Will.”

William laughed. “That’s what makes life worth living, right?”

The sun dipped below the treetops, casting Brightleaf in a warm, golden light. William and Rose shared a look, their decision made.

“When do we leave?” Rose asked, her voice low and ready.

William’s grin matched hers. “How about dawn?”

____________________

William and Rose entered a bustling marketplace, the sounds and smells overwhelming in the best possible way. Animals of all shapes and sizes milled about, hawking their wares or simply enjoying the festive atmosphere.

To one side, a group of beaver craftsmen worked busily, repairing holes in the wooden noticeboard that stood at the centre of the square. Nearby, a young squirrel replaced the old market bell with a shiny new one, its chime clear and bright.

Beside the noticeboard, an old badger with spectacles perched on the end of his nose, checking the adverts posted on the board, beside him, an elegant fox with a green hooded cloak and a bow strung over her back.  William and Rose watched as Bramble, lost in thought, scanned the notices, her expression intent.

The squirrel finished installing the bell, gave it a test ring, and stepped back, nodding in satisfaction. The old badger patted the noticeboard, and the squirrel scurried off to join the beavers.

William nudged Rose, nodding towards Bramble. “Think she’s looking for something?”

Rose followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Looks like it. Wonder what she’s after.”

Bramble remained oblivious to their gaze, still scanning the notices.

______________________________

I figured it was about time that I introduced the latest members to join the misfits.

William and Rose are foxes. They have been friends for as long as they can remember.  They don’t have much and dream of making it big by entering archery competitions with the hope of getting to compete in the bigger cities.

As foxes, they both have the Strong (1) skill and are both armed with bows.  Nothing else, no melee weapons and no armour.

This brings the misfits up to 9 models.  The maximum warband size is 10, so I need to make sure the final member, if I make it that far, is a real asset to the team.

The Top Bird

Thomas’s antennae twitched with irritation as he navigated the shelves, his feet leaving a precise, measured path on the dusty floor. Morrigan’s aberrant cataloguing system was an affront to his very nature. Colour?! Who organised books by colour?!

Thomas’s frustration mounted as he searched in vain. He adjusted his spectacles, polished his shell for the umpteenth time, and tried again—still nothing.

Finally, with great reluctance, he made his way to the librarian’s desk, his shell held high and his antennae twitching with annoyance. Morrigan looked up, a sly gleam in his eye.

“Ah, Thomas. Lost, are we?” he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

Thomas’s voice was icy. “Morrigan, I require assistance. I am seeking a book on ornithology. It should be filed under ‘O’ for ornithology, not… apparently… by colour.”

Morrigan’s smile was infuriatingly smug. “Ah, Thomas. You really should try embracing the intuitive approach. It’s all about vibes.”

Thomas’s antennae quivered with indignation. “Intuitive approach?! This is a library, Morrigan, not a-“

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Thomas,” Morrigan interrupted, his feathers ruffling with amusement. “This is a sanctuary of knowledge, and I am the curator. And as such, I have deemed colour the most… efficient system.”

Thomas’s patience was wearing thin. “Efficient?! I-“

Morrigan held up a wing, silencing him. “Let me help you, Thomas. What’s the book about again?”

Thomas gritted his teeth. “Ornithology.”

Morrigan’s gaze sparkled. “Ah, yes… let me see…”

He led him to a shelf in the…  brown section. Thomas’s eyes widened as he scanned the titles. How had he missed it?

“Ah, here we are,” Morrigan said, plucking a book off the shelf. “Ornithology: A Study of Avian Behaviour.  Clearly displayed in the brown section.”

Thomas took the book, his antennae still twitching with annoyance. “Thank you, Morrigan.”

Morrigan laughed. “Anytime, Thomas. That’s why I’m the top bird.”

____________________

The sun cast long shadows across the Den’s clearing as Morrigan’s voice pierced the evening air, a loud, piercing “SQUAWK! HELP!” that sent the Misfits spilling out of the Den, their faces etched with concern.

Maverick, Neville, and Bramble converged on Morrigan, who stood by a fallen tree, his arms crossed and his expression a picture of exasperation.

“What’s wrong, Morrigan?” Maverick asked, eyes scanning the area.

Morrigan glared at them, his feathers ruffled with annoyance. “Is that the best you can do? I call for help, and you take an eternity to respond.”

The Misfits exchanged sheepish glances. Maverick rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, Morrigan. We were, uh, enjoying the sunset.”

Morrigan tutted, his eyes rolling heavenward. “Enjoying the sunset? Aren’t we lucky that I wasn’t in a life-threatening situation? You’d all be flapping about like headless chickens.”

Bramble spoke up, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. “Hey, we’re here now. What’s going on?”

Morrigan’s gaze narrowed. “I was just checking your response time.  I rescued Philippe in a flash.  I single-handedly saved him from certain doom.”

Maverick sighed, earning a dirty look from Morrigan. “Whoa, Morrigan. You’re a regular hero.”

Morrigan preened, his feathers puffing out. “Yes, well. Someone has to keep this group up to speed.”

Thomas, who was polishing his shield nearby, muttered under his breath, “Someone has to keep his ego in check…”

Morrigan’s gaze snapped to Thomas. “What was that, Thomas?”

Thomas’s antennae quivered innocently. “Nothing, Morrigan. Just saying… you’re the top bird.”

____________________

Morrigan sauntered into the Den’s kitchen, a self-satisfied smile plastered on his face. Philippe was sitting at the table, munching on a piece of toast, looking rather bemused by Morrigan’s antics.

Morrigan cleared his throat, puffing out his chest. “Ah, Philippe. I was just thinking about our little… adventure.  You know, the one where I saved you from certain doom?”

Philippe looked up, a hint of wariness in his eyes. “Uh, yeah. I remember.”

Morrigan nodded, his eyes sparkling with self-importance. “Yes, well. I just wanted to remind you that it was me who rescued you. Not Thomas. Thomas was… well, let’s just say he wasn’t exactly moving at lightning speed.”

Philippe’s expression remained neutral.

Morrigan’s smile broadened, his feathers puffing out with pride. “I moved like lightning. Like a bird of prey, swooping in to save the day.”

He stepped closer to Philippe, his eyes gleaming. “So, don’t you worry, with me around, you don’t need to be scared.”

Morrigan reached out and pinched Philippe’s cheek, a condescending smile on his face. “You remember that, okay, little guy?”

Philippe’s expression remained frozen, but his eyes rolled heavenward as Morrigan turned and strutted out of the kitchen.

The kitchen fell silent for a moment, then Philippe let out a relieved breath and muttered, “Finally, he’s gone…”

______________________________

Tensions Rise

The Misfits gathered in the Den’s living room, a mix of tired and annoyed expressions on their faces. Morrigan was perched on a windowsill, preening his feathers, looking like the cat who’d swallowed the canary.

Maverick spoke up, his voice calm but firm. “Morrigan, we need to talk.”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. “What is it, Maverick? Can’t you see I’m busy grooming?”

Maverick stepped forward, his arms crossed. “We all appreciate what you’ve done for us, Morrigan. You’ve saved us a few times, and we’re grateful. But-“

Morrigan interrupted, his tone growing haughty. “A few times? A few times?! I’ve saved this group countless times. I’m the one who-“

Bramble cut him off, her voice gentle but firm. “Morrigan, that’s exactly the problem. We know you’re a hero, but we’re a team. We need to work together, not have one person taking all the credit.”

Morrigan’s feathers ruffled with annoyance. “Credit? Credit?! I’m the top bird around here. You all would be lost without me.”

Thomas spoke up, his voice dry. “Actually, Morrigan, I think that’s the issue. We’re not a hierarchy. We’re a team.”

Morrigan’s gaze snapped to Thomas, his eyes flashing with irritation. “You think you’re part of this conversation, Thomas? You’re just a slow-moving snail with a penchant for getting lost.”

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Maverick stood resolute, his voice calm. “Morrigan, we’re saying we appreciate you, but we need you to work with us, not above us.”

Morrigan’s expression darkened, his feathers fluffing out in agitation. “Fine. I’ll… consider it.” He stalked off, muttering under his breath, “Top bird, indeed…”

The Misfits exchanged worried glances. “Think he’ll ever learn?” Neville asked.

Maverick sighed. “Guess we’ll just have to keep reminding him.

____________________

A friend in Need is a Friend Indeed

Bramble and Morrigan sat together on the fallen tree outside the Den, the warm light casting a gentle glow on their faces. Bramble’s expression was soft, concerned, as she asked, “Morrigan, what’s going on? You’ve been… different lately.”

Morrigan shifted uncomfortably, his feathers rustling. “Different? I’m the same as always. Top bird, and proud of it.”

Bramble’s eyes sparkled with understanding. “That’s exactly what I mean. You used to be… brooding, maybe a bit lost. But now… It’s like you’re trying to prove something to everyone.”

Morrigan’s gaze dropped, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. “I am proving something. I’m proving I’m worth something.”

Bramble’s expression softened further. “You are worth something, Morrigan. You always have been.”

Morrigan snorted, a bitter edge to his voice. “No, I wasn’t. I was the weird bird, the one nobody noticed. And then… then I did something, and people started looking at me. And I liked it.”

Bramble nodded, her voice gentle. “You like feeling valued. I get that. But there’s a difference between feeling valued and needing to tell everyone that you are the better then everyone else.”

Morrigan’s feathers ruffled, a mix of emotions playing across his face. “I don’t want to go back to feeling like I didn’t matter, Bramble. I don’t want to be invisible again.”

Bramble reached out, her hand on his wing. “You’ll never be invisible, Morrigan. And you don’t have to prove yourself to us. We value you, just as you are.”

Morrigan looked up, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. For a moment, he just looked… vulnerable.

Bramble smiled, her voice warm. “Morrigan, you’ll always be our top bird… but more than that, you’re part of the family now. And families don’t need to prove themselves to each other.”

Morrigan’s gaze dropped, his feathers rustling softly as he looked away, lost in thought. Bramble patted his wing and left him to it, the silence between them filled with unspoken understanding.

_

Morrigan sat alone, the words echoing in his mind… part of the family… He shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to process the feeling that came with those words.

____________________

Foundations of a Bridge

Thomas’s antennae twitched with frustration as he slid a book onto the brown shelf, watching with dismay as it blended seamlessly into the surrounding tomes. Colour grouping. Morrigan’s “system” was an affront to everything Thomas held dear – order, precision, alphabetical organisation.

But… it was efficient. Thomas couldn’t deny it. Finding books was a nightmare, but putting them back? Child’s play. He slid another book onto the shelf, his foot tapping impatiently as he watched it disappear into the brown abyss.

“Ugh, I’m starting to see the appeal,” Thomas muttered to himself, adjusting his spectacles with a flick of his antennae. “But don’t tell Morrigan. He’s insufferable enough as it is.”

Thomas glanced around the library, half-expecting Morrigan to materialise and gloat about being right. He shook his head, chuckling wily. “No, I’ll keep this to myself. Morrigan’s ego doesn’t need any more inflating.”

With a final adjustment, Thomas declared the books “filed” and stalked off, with reluctant admiration for Morrigan’s… questionable… system.

____________________

The Runaway aka Missing Grandpa

Philippe burst into the Den, his face flushed with excitement and a hint of concern. Maverick and Maximiliano looked up from their conversation, eyebrows raised.

“What’s up, Philippe?” Maverick asked, nodding for him to continue.

Philippe took a deep breath, his voice normal. “I was just talking to Mrs Rabbit. Barry’s gone missing.”

Maximiliano’s expression turned serious, his Spanish accent thick. “Barry? Zee elderly Hamster?”

Philippe nodded, his faux French accent kicking in. “Oui, zis ees correct! Barry ze Hamster, ‘e left ome and didn’t come back. Zis grandkeeds, zey are worried, zey asked us for ‘elp.”

Maverick’s eyes narrowed, thinking it through. “Barry’s got to be around here somewhere. What do you think, Max?”

Maximiliano nodded, his accent still thick. “We can’t leave ‘im out zere alone. We’ll find ‘im.”

Philippe’s French accent grew thicker, his words becoming more exaggerated. “Zut! Zis ees terrible, no? Ze Misfits to zee rescue! I’ll spread zee word – we’ll need Morrigan’s eyes in zee air, and Thomas’s map skills…”

_

Morrigan trudged through the dry leaves, his feathers ruffled and dull. He kicked a stick with more force than necessary, sending it skittering across the ground. What’s the point of being top bird if nobody needs you? He felt like he’d finally found his place, and now Bramble’s words were stuck in his head: “You’re part of the family now”.

Maverick stepped out of the Den, a serious look on his face. “Morrigan, we need you.”

Morrigan’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

Maverick approached him, his voice low. “Barry the Hamster’s gone missing. His grandkids are worried sick about him, and they’ve asked for our help finding him.”

Morrigan’s expression softened slightly. “Barry? The elderly bloke who plays with those little toy soldiers?”

Maverick nodded. “That’s the one. We need someone to scout around, see if they can spot him. You’re our best bet – you’ve got the eyesight, and you’ve done this before.”

Morrigan’s feathers puffed out slightly, his posture straightening. “Right, I’m on it. When was the last time anyone saw him?”

Maverick pulled out a map, Thomas hovering nearby with notes. “Last seen near the old oak, heading towards the berry bushes. Grandkids said he was talking about going to find the Necromouser and didn’t come back.”

Morrigan nodded, his gaze intense. “Got it. I’ll find him.”

He took off, his wings beating strongly, the wind rushing past his face. For a moment, he forgot his worries – he was the top bird, and he was needed. He swooped low, scanning the ground below. “Barry, where are you?”

______________________________

For this next mission, we are going to give the scenario ‘The Runaway’ a go.

‘A Noblebeast’s only son has run away and is now wandering lost and alone.’  Well, that doesn’t exactly work for me, so I have changed it to Barry, our wargaming hamster, has gone off to tackle the Necromouser and is now lost and in need of rescue.

The mission is simple: get to Barry and safely escort him off the table without him getting taken out of action.

_

I am now very conscious of the fact that there is very little time left in this campaign, so I need to start giving some thought to how I imagine or rather hope, each of the Misfits tales will conclude.   So far, it has been pretty much a case of playing it by ear, and hopefully their stories have flowed on well enough without too many timeline paradoxes.

I hope they all survive; I will be devastated to lose one of them so close to the finish line.  I have thoroughly enjoyed seeing how each of their characteristics has evolved.  It has been great fun trying to actually play the games with each model, trying to follow as closely as possible how I think they would react.   Maverick repeatedly throws himself in harm’s way to save the others, Maximilliano protecting Bramble, even when I really needed his melee prowess elsewhere.  Morrigan, looking out for himself, even to the point where he flew off the table to do his own thing.  The love-hate relationship between Thomas and Morrigan.

It has all been a blast.

Anyway, this is not the end, there is a Necromouser out there that needs a good thumping, and I have until the end of the month to get the Misfits ready for whatever the grand finale throws at us.

_

I also thought I would address the issue of AI art in this project.  I know some are for it and some are against its use.

For me, I needed to add something to break up what would otherwise be massive walls of text.  Walls that would be hard to read, so I made the decision to use some AI art.

I tried my best to keep, for the best part, the AI art based around my own painted figures and my own painted scenery.  Obviously, I could not do that with all images.  Maverick flying above the pentagram is one of them.

As I have absolutely no idea where this story is going from one entry to the next, it would be impossible for me to make dioramas of everything, plus the games being played are not always on my scenery, and I don’t really want to interrupt my opponents too much by taking dozens of pictures each game.  As it is, this tale is told from the side of the Misfits and how they interpret the goings on in Cedarwood.

I also have not documented every single skill upgrade, den upgrade and market purchase.  Just enough to give the idea that things are progressing along.  For example, I didn’t feel the need to say I bought Bramble a sword; I did, however, mention that she got hold of a Mirroring Talisman in the form of a mirror.

I am hoping that before this campaign is over, I can go through each character and share how they now look on paper.  They have changed quite a bit.

Morrigan swooped down, his wings beating fiercely as he spotted Barry’s tiny form wandering near the old mad wizard’s settlement. He swooped back up, alerting Maverick with a sharp cry.

“Barry’s near the wizard’s place,” Morrigan reported, his voice low. “But we’ve got company.”

Maverick’s expression turned serious. “What kind of company?”

Morrigan nodded towards the approaching figures. “Kaotica Templars from the north, and those crazy Squirrels with the mushroom men approaching from the west.”

Maximiliano’s accent thickened. “Merde, no. We don’t need zis now, sí?”

The Misfits approached the settlement with caution, eyes scanning the surroundings. Barry, oblivious to the danger, continued to sniff around the overgrown gardens.

Maximiliano readied his blade, his voice low. “We grab Barry, get out fast, rápido.”

Maverick nodded. “Morrigan, keep watch. The rest, let’s move.”

As they crept closer, the Kaotica Templars and the Squirrels halted at the edge of the settlement, eyeing the Misfits warily.

Koda, the butcher of bunnies’ burrow, stepped forward, his voice cold. “This area’s under our… observation. Leave the Hamster.”

Maverick stood firm. “Barry’s with us. We’ll take him home.”

The Squirrels’ chatter erupted, their mushroom men forming a line. “Graaab… Hamster… ours…”

Just as the standoff seemed about to escalate, two massive mushrooms burst from a hidden tunnel, their caps unfolding like jaws. They snatched Barry, dragging him screaming into the darkness.

“¡Ay, caramba!” Maximiliano exclaimed.

The Misfits sprang into action, the Templars and Squirrels momentarily forgotten. “After them!” Maverick shouted.

The group plunged into the tunnel, Morrigan’s sharp eyes leading the way. The tunnel twisted, turned, and descended into darkness. Barry’s terrified squeaks echoed, growing fainter.

The Misfits stumbled out of the tunnels, gasping for air, and looked around frantically. They were deep in the mad wizard’s settlement, near the crazed lair itself.

“Damn it!” Maverick growled. “Lost him.”

Maximiliano shook his head.

Morrigan fluffed his feathers, frustrated. “We were so close.”

The group stood near an abandoned hut.  In a large building ahead of them, maniacal laughter echoed, followed by a bang and a puff of smoke.

Thomas whispered, “That’s… that’s the wizard’s lair.”

Maverick’s gaze narrowed. “Then that’s where we’ll go.”

The Misfits exchanged looks, knowing the mad wizard was no joke. But Barry was missing, and they had to try.

“We go in, careful,” Maverick said, blade at the ready.

The group crept towards the lair, the wizard’s crazed laughter growing louder. What they’d find inside, nobody knew.

______________________________

Ok, so that was…different.

This game didn’t even last a full turn, something I will come back to once this campaign ends, as I do have quite a few thoughts on the system as a whole.

Basically, the Mushroom men used the Hidden Tunnels den upgrade to have 2 models deploy anywhere on the table.  One was deployed right next to Barry, the other at a midpoint between their deployment area and Barry.

On their first activation, the Shroom man next to Barry grabbed him, walking him 12 inches towards his deployment zone and passing him off to the other Shroom man that had emerged from a tunnel at the midpoint.   That Shroom man then continued to manhandle Barry another 12 inches towards their deployment zone before once again handing Barry off to a third model.

That third model then walked Barry off the table.

At this point, we decided that we could just flow this on to another game without going into a full post-game phase.   We did, however, let the Shroom Men get their experience for what they had done.

So straight into Game Nine, and for this, we decided to try ‘Witch Hunt’.

The Misfits fanned out, senses on high alert, as they crept closer to the crazed laughter. The tension increased, and the smell of smoke wafted through the air.

Suddenly, Morrigan’s sharp eyes spotted movement. “Look out!” he cried, just as fireballs erupted from seemingly nowhere, hurtling towards the group.

The Misfits dove for cover, the fireballs exploding in a chaotic burst of flames and sparks. The Templars and Shroom men were closing in, dodging the wild fireballs with eerie precision.

Maximiliano shouted, “¡Cuidado! It’s the wizard – he’s firing blind!”

Maverick yelled back, “Split up, find cover!”

The group scattered as fireballs continued to rain down, the Templars and Shroom men converging, their motives unclear. The mad wizard’s laughter grew louder, his fire magic spinning out of control.

Maverick gave Neville a sharp nod, and Neville’s eyes sparkled as he cast Haste, followed by Push on Maverick. The magic surged, and Maverick was catapulted forward like a bullet, crashing into the fray.

The mad wizard, flapping a flaming sleeve, was duelling two burly Shroom men amidst a whirlwind of fire and sparks. Maverick burst into the melee, blade flashing, as the wizard cricked his neck and grinned maniacally.

“Ah, a new toy! BURN!” he screeched, swinging a fiery staff at Maverick.

The Shrooms closed in, but Maverick was a blur, dodging and weaving through the chaos. The wizard’s laughter peaked as he unleashed a fireball – but Maverick ducked, and it blasted a Shroom into splintered fungus.

Maverick seized the opening, charging the wizard. “Barry!” he shouted, amidst the flames. “Where’s Barry?”

The wizard crooked his head, eyes wild. “Barry? Who’s Barry?”

While the chaos unfolded, William, Rose and Philippe slipped away, their eyes scanning the abandoned houses of the wizard’s settlement.

“Time to see what treasures the old coot has hidden,” William said with a grin, his hands already working the latch on a nearby door.

Philippe chuckled, his French accent thick. “Ooh la la, ze loot, she is calling our name, no?”

The trio slipped into the houses, their hands quickly finding valuables, potions, and oddities left behind by the wizard’s previous… experiments.

As they looted, they kept an ear out for the sounds of the fight – but for now, there were shiny things that had their attention.

The wizard leapt into the air, landing on the nearby pile of debris. With a crick, he leapt onto a broken beam and began to climb, his tattered robes flapping like wings. He clambered maniacally as he scaled the side of his hut, reaching the thatched roof in seconds.

As he perched atop, he waved a hand in a wild gesture, and a burst of flame enveloped him. The Misfits watched in awe as the wizard’s wounds began to heal, his wild energy growing more erratic by the second.

“He’s gone full loopy,” Morrigan muttered, his feathers ruffled.

Maverick’s eyes narrowed. “We need to end this fast.”

Maximiliano nodded, his accent thick. “Sí, we’ll keep the Shrooms off you.”

The Misfits charged forward, determined to find Barry as the wizard’s laughter echoed through the settlement.

The wizard’s laughter peaked, and in that instant, Bramble’s arrow whispered through the air. It struck true, plucking the wizard from his perch atop the hut. He plummeted, his manic laughter cutting off with a sickening crunch as he hit the ground.

The Shroom men paused, as if confused, and slowly disappeared back into the forest.

The Misfits froze, taking in the sudden silence. Morrigan landed beside Bramble, impressed. “Nice shot.”

Bramble lowered her bow, her expression unruffled. “He was a danger.”

The Misfits searched the wizard’s chambers and every nook of the crumbling hut. But Barry was nowhere to be found.

A hollow feeling settled over the group. Morrigan’s feathers drooped. Maximiliano shook his head. “No… no Barry.”

Maverick’s jaw clenched. “We looked everywhere.”

Bramble’s calm demeanour cracked slightly, her eyes clouding. “He was just… gone.”

The group stood silent, the weight of failure settling in. Finally, Maverick spoke, his voice low.

“Back to the Den. We’ll regroup.”

The Misfits trudged out of the wizard’s settlement, their steps heavy with disappointment. Barry was missing, and they had no leads.

______________________________

This was another really quick game, which was ended by Bramble effectively one-shotting the Wizard off the top of a building.  Technically, his last two wounds were taken from the fall, but it was the shot that caused him a whopping 15 points of damage, even though he had Tough 7 against ranged attacks that set the ball in motion

Bramble rolled well with a shooting skill of d8, adding to that Expert Shot and focusing.   Then, adding Wounding Shot, Crippling Shot, and Mortal Poison.  The Wizard, on the other hand, rolled badly.

Obviously, I was lucky, and that may not always happen, but I can see things like this having the potential to be a bit of a problem as warbands get more advanced.  If I can do that to an NPC, then it is very likely that the same can happen to me; in fact, it already has with Maverick being one-shot taken out of action by a fireball in a previous game.

Anyway, I will do the post-game phase of this soon.   I am now looking forward to the final conflict, which is set for the 29th of March 2026.   I have no idea how that will play out, but I suspect it could be a massive multiplayer game.

The Black Swan

Maverick and Maximiliano pushed through the underbrush, the skeletal remains of the shipwreck looming before them.

“Neville said it was here,” Maverick said, eyeing the wreckage.

Maximiliano nodded, his accent thick. “Sí, but did he look properly?”

The pair began to search the ship, their eyes adjusting to the dim light. As they rifled through the debris, Maximiliano suddenly crouched, his eyes widening.

“Maverick, esto es… this is a treasure ship. The ‘Black Swan’.”

Maverick’s eyebrows rose. “The one with the legendary cargo?”

Maximiliano nodded, his grin spreading. “Sí. If there’s treasure here…”

The two intensified their search and soon stumbled upon a stash of unopened chests, adorned with intricate locks. The chests creaked open, revealing a hoard of pennies, glittering in the dim light.

Maverick whistled low. “Jackpot.”

But it was Maximiliano who spotted the ring, nestled in a velvet box. The gemstone pulsed with a soft, magical glow.

“Ah, mira,” he breathed. “This… this is no ordinary ring.”

Maverick picked it up, feeling the power coursing through it. “Could be useful.”

The two exchanged a look, the weight of their discovery settling in. The ‘Black Swan’s’ treasure was real – and they had found it.

Ancient Stones

Morrigan stomped through the underbrush, his feathers ruffled with frustration. He couldn’t shake the feeling of failure – if only he’d spotted the mushrooms grabbing Barry sooner…

As he brooded, he stumbled upon a circle of ancient standing stones, half-hidden by ferns. Morrigan’s head cocked, curious. He hadn’t seen these before.

As he examined the stones, a soft glow caught his eye. A warm, golden light wrapped itself around him, chasing away the shadows. Morrigan’s feathers fluffed, surprised, as the magic seeped into him.

In the trees, a Rabbit from the Temple of Light watched, a knowing smile on her face. She nodded, satisfied she’d done her part. Silently, she slipped away, leaving Morrigan to feel… different.

Morrigan looked around, feeling a strange sense of… hope? The glow faded, but the feeling lingered. He shook his head, puzzled. What just happened?

Splashing the cash

Philippe grinned, bowing to the crowd as the applause died down. A flamboyant duck, resplendent in a top hat and monocle, approached him.

“Ah, ze charming Philippe! I ‘ad to meet ze man behind ze magic,” the duck said, his accent dripping with wealth.

Philippe chuckled, shaking the duck’s webbed hand. “Enchanté, monsieur…?”

“Lord Quackmore,” the duck replied, gesturing to his entourage. “I ‘ave a proposition, Philippe. View my wares, and if you like… you can earn one of my finest pieces.”

Philippe’s eyes lit up. “Ooh la la, I am intrigued.”

Lord Quackmore led Philippe to his makeshift market, filled with exquisite goods. Philippe’s eyes widened as he scanned the treasures. Lord Quackmore noticed his gaze lingering on a sword, its blade gleaming with an otherworldly sharpness.

“Ah, ze ‘Avian’s Bite’,” Lord Quackmore said, smiling. “A masterwork. Very well, Philippe – perform for me at my dinner party, and it’s yours.”

Philippe’s grin was all the answer needed. “Deal, monsieur! Ze show, she is yours!”

Lord Quackmore nodded, handing Philippe the sword. “Splendid. Tonight, ze moon is high… and ze guests, zey are eager.”

______________________________

Because the last game was over so quickly, I had fate points to burn, so once more, my little critters went into the wilds. They all went individually, but some got the same results, so I combined them into the same story.

I didn’t write stories for each of them, once again just a sample of what’s been going on.

I have lost count of the number of times I have now found the shipwreck, so I am assuming that each time it is the same shipwreck.  The same goes for anything that has an ‘Enchanted’ feel to it.  I assume it is in some way connected to the Rabbits from the Temple of Light.

All in all, it was a very successful post-game phase, earning me several nice items through the wanderings and rolling for rare items.  I also scored a large sum of pennies.  Not sure what I will do with them all yet, but I am thinking of adding another member to the gang to round them out to 10 models.

The Den’s common room was a hub of activity; the Misfits sprawled about, soaking in the relief of being back home. Neville muttered to himself, mixing potions with a flourish, as Morrigan looked on, befuddled.

Thomas, unusually chill, hummed a jaunty tune, quill scratching as he balanced the books. “Hmm, six…Seven… Mmm…”

Bramble looked up, a notice in hand. “Guys… It’s about Barry.”

The group fell silent, eyes on Bramble.

“Barry’s family paid a ransom. He’s… home,” she said, her tone measured.

The Misfits exchanged looks – relief mixed with a hint of “could’ve been better”.

Maverick nodded, leaning back. “Not ideal, but at least he’s safe.”

Morrigan perked up, a grin spreading. “Hey, that’s bloody brilliant!”

Neville looked up, a splash of purple potion on his cheek. “Hear that, Morrigan? Chemistry’s not that hard.”

Thomas kept humming, scribbling a note in the ledger. “Carry the four… divide by nine…”

The tension dissipated, replaced by the usual Den banter. Barry was home – that was what mattered.

Thomas looked up from the ledger, a mischievous glint in his eye. “One more,” he said, as if it were a done deal.

The Misfits exchanged confused looks.

“One more what, mate?” Neville asked, wiping purple potion off his hands.

“Member,” Thomas said, grinning. “We can fit one more in the gang. Funds are solid, we’ve got space, and I know just who it could be.”

Maverick raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “The Black Watch, I bet.”

Thomas nodded, enthusiastic. “Yeah! They’re tough, reliable –”

Maverick cut him off. “No hounds, Thomas. We don’t need a gang of Bloodhounds breathing down our necks.”

Thomas’s grin didn’t falter. “Ah, come on, Mav. One hound wouldn’t hurt. They’re loyal –”

Maverick shook his head. “Not up for debate. No hounds.”

Morrigan chimed in. “Hounds are cool, actually…”

Bramble leaned back, amused, as the argument unfolded.

Philippe grinned. “Ooh la la, ze solution, she is simple! We find a lady toad! Charming, clever… et voilà!”

Maximiliano chuckled, shaking his head. “No, no, amigo. I know a lovely Mexican Squirrel. Isabella’s her name. She’s got ze best taco in town.”

Rose piped up, eyes shining. “Ooh, tacos!”

William nodded emphatically. “And mice! We need mice in the gang. Squeaky, smart ones.”

Maverick shook his head, firm. “No mice. They get under your feet.”

The group started arguing again – toads vs squirrels vs… mice. Morrigan chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “This is gonna be fun.”

Bramble raised an eyebrow.

–

The Misfits dissolved into chaos as each member passionately argued their point. “Character’s everything!” Philippe exclaimed.

“Skills are key, amigo!” Maximiliano countered.

Maverick shook his head. “Heart matters –”

“No, no, experience is what counts!” Thomas insisted.

Morrigan and Neville watched, giggling like maniacs, as the argument escalated.

Meanwhile, Bramble and Rose slipped out, grinning at each other. “Boys, huh?” Bramble said.

Rose chuckled. “Archery range?”

The pair headed outside, bows in hand, as the shouting match continued inside. Morrigan and Neville collapsed into each other, snorting with laughter.

Neville wiped away tears. “This is gold.”

Morrigan grinned.

The arguing inside got louder…

____________________

The morning after the great debate, the Misfits stumbled into the Den’s common room, looking like they’d been through a blender. Thomas, ever the optimist, had taken matters into his own hands.

The wall was plastered with pictures of potential new members. Dudley from the Black Watch – a gigantic Bloodhound in full plate armour, shield and Halberd at the ready. Thomas’s grin said it all.

Next to Dudley were Ridley, Latimer, and Cranmer – three white mice, looking mischievous, with captions hastily scribbled across the poster, no doubt referring to the infamous incident with the farmer’s wife.

Isabella, the Mexican squirrel, smiled cheekily from the wall.

And finally, a blank piece of paper with “A Lady Toad” scrawled on it. Philippe looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Ze toad, eet ees a long shot, no?”

Maverick shook his head, exasperated. “Thomas, what’ve you done?”

Thomas beamed. “Narrowed it down, Mav! Now we just… argue some more!”

The group groaned, eyeing the candidates. Morrigan chuckled. “Dudley’s gonna crush us.”