The War in the Willows

Maverick and Bramble strolled through the market, weaving past stalls and haggling locals. Maverick nudged Bramble’s elbow. “Still no decision on the tenth member, eh?”

Bramble raised an eyebrow. “Nope. Dudley’s the front-runner, but…”

Maverick snorted. “He makes Barry the Bastard look like a child, he’s huge.”

Bramble chuckled. “The Bishop brothers – I suspect too many egos. And Lady Toads? Not exactly crawling the streets.”

Maverick grinned wickedly. “Isabella’s got tacos, though. Tacos on tap, right?”

Bramble laughed. “Tempting, but I doubt she’d join.”

“Only one way to find out.” Maverick smiled.

____________________

Isabella

Bramble and Maverick strolled into Isabella’s Taco Shop, the aroma of sizzling meats and spices enveloping them like a warm hug. Isabella, la reina del taco, flashed a sultry smile as she greeted them.

“¡Hola, guapos! Welcome to my humble abode. What brings you handsome Misfits in today?”

Maverick grinned, nudging Bramble. “Just thought we’d drop by and… taste the goods.”

Isabella laughed, a throaty purr. “Mi tacos are the best, no? But I think you’re looking for something else, ¿sí?” She batted her eyelashes, first at Maverick, then at Bramble, who raised an eyebrow, amused.

Bramble leaned in, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Actually, we were wondering if you’d consider joining the Misfits.”

Isabella’s eyes sparkled, and she leaned in, her voice husky. “¡Ay, caramba! The Misfits, eh? You’re a bunch of locos, I like it.” She glanced at Bramble, then Maverick, her gaze lingering. “But… I’m afraid I’ll have to say no, guapos. I’m happy here, serving up tacos and making dreams come true.”

Maverick chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t compete with that.”

Isabella laughed, patting Bramble’s hand, then Maverick’s. “You know it, chicos. But maybe I’ll come visit you Misfits soon, ¿no?”

Bramble grinned.  “We’ll leave a standing invitation, just in case.”

Isabella’s smile was like the sun breaking through clouds. “¡Ay, cuenta con eso, guapos!” She winked, and Bramble and Maverick beat a hasty retreat, chuckling.

As they left, Maverick turned to Bramble. “Think she’ll ever join?”

Bramble shrugged, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Doubt it. But it’s always fun to watch her flirt.”

____________________

The Bishop Brothers

In the quaint village of Greenhaven, nestled between rolling hills and lush fields, lived the Bishop brothers – Latimer, Ridley, and Cranmer—three mice with mischievous sparkles in their eyes, notorious for their kinship towards each other .

The trouble began when Farmer Jenkins’ wife, Mrs Jenkins, accused the Bishops of tormenting her relentlessly. Whiskers twitching, the brothers denied it all, of course. But the evidence was stacked against them: nibbled cheeses, raided cookie jars, and a trail of chaos that led straight to the Bishop’s doorstep.

The villagers took Mrs Jenkins’ side, especially when she threatened to cut off their tails if the torment didn’t stop. The Bishops, however, maintained their innocence with straight faces.

Rumours swirled that the mice had witnessed something – perhaps a shady deal involving the village elder’s prize-winning pumpkins. But Latimer, Ridley, and Cranmer stuck to their story: they saw nothing.

The case went to trial, with the village lawyer, Mr Grimstone, prosecuting the brothers. The courtroom was packed, the air thick with tension.

Grimstone: “So, you three claim to have seen nothing?”

Latimer (with an innocent squeak): “Absolutely nothing, Your Honour.”

Ridley (nodding vigorously): “Not a thing.”

Cranmer (smiling sweetly): “We were, uh, busy grooming our whiskers.”

The villagers groaned. The judge banged his gavel. “Enough! The court finds you… reluctantly, not guilty.”

The verdict dropped: the Bishops were acquitted, but with a warning. “You three may not see anything, but be warned, I’ll be watching you.”

The brothers emerged from court, tails intact, and grinned at each other. “Told you we’d get out,” Latimer whispered.

As they scratched their ears, Mrs. Jenkins glared from the back of the courtroom. “This isn’t over.”

The Bishops scurried off, chuckling, and promptly got into a new scrape – stealing a particularly fine cheese from the village pub.

Their legend grew: the three mice who saw nothing, blind as the Bishops, some would say, thick as thieves, said others.

Dudley

In the shadow of the setting sun, the Black Watch assembled at the old oak, their armour polished, their spirits high. Dudley, the mighty Bloodhound, stood tall, his one eye gleaming with pride. He was a legend among the Watch, a champion of valour and loyalty.

Dudley’s career spanned years, with campaigns in the Wreckage Wars, the Night of Screams, and countless skirmishes against the Dark Things that lurked in shadows. His coat bore the scars of battles fought and won, and his chest was heavy with medals.

But it was the Battle of Brindlemark that cemented his legend. A horde of feral mole rats, their eyes glowing like embers, had descended upon the sleepy village of Brindlemark, intent on slaughter.

With a deafening roar, he charged into the fray, his massive polearm tearing through the enemy ranks. The mole rats swarmed, but Dudley fought on, his jaws crushing, his claws slashing. He took blow after blow, his armour dented, his fur torn, but he would not yield.

In the chaos, a mole rat had breached the schoolhouse, where the children cuddled in terror. Dudley saw the danger and sprang into action. With a Herculean effort, he smashed through the enemy, losing an eye in the process, but saving the children.

The Watch arrived to find Dudley standing amidst a mountain of defeated foes, his chest heaving, his eye socket bleeding. He had saved the village and the schoolhouse, single-pawed.

The villagers hailed him a hero, and the Watch promoted him to Champion. Dudley remained humble, his loyalty unwavering. He continued to patrol the night, ever vigilant, ever loyal.

–

Dudley sat in his office, the worn leather chair creaking beneath him. He stared at the wall, eyes tracing the 37 names etched into the wood. Brothers and sisters, fallen in battle, their memories honoured here. A quiet reverence filled the room, mixed with the scent of old books and polished armour.

He remembered the day he arrived at the Black Watch, a scared, gangly, orphaned pup. The Watch had taken him in, trained him, given him purpose. Dudley’s eye wandered to the Phoenix emblem on his shield, gleaming in the dim light – the symbol of the Black Watch, rising again and again.

Thirty-seven. So many good souls. Dudley had thought he’d join them in the Great Hall at the Rainbow Bridge more than once, but fate decreed otherwise. Now, age had crept in, slowing him down. But experience remained, and wisdom earned.

A soft knock broke the silence. “Sir?” a Watch pup said, poking his head in. “There are two foxes here to see you.”

Dudley nodded, his one eye focusing. “Tell ’em I’ll be down shortly.”  The pup nodded and left. Dudley turned back to the names on the wall. “Still here,” he whispered.

Maverick paced the den, the gang’s eyes on him. “No luck, guys. Nobody fits.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Nobody? What about Dudley?”

Maverick shook his head. “Didn’t ask him.”

Thomas frowned. “Why not? He’s a beast.”

Maverick sighed. “He’s Black Watch, through and through. Needed there.  Wouldn’t want to pull him away.”

Thomas snorted. “Fair point. What about the Bishops?”

Maverick shook his head. “Threesome. We’re looking for one.”

The gang nodded, understanding. Maximilliano piped up, “Isabella?”

“Happy with her tacos,” Maverick said, chuckling. “And no Lady Toads in sight.”

The Misfits exchanged looks, the silence stretching. Then Bramble grinned. “Guess we’re back to brainstorming.”

_

Neville stood before them, a determined look on his face. “Guys, I want to ask you something. My friend Hercules is looking to join the crew.”

Maverick raised an eyebrow. “Hercules? Sounds impressive.  What’s he like?”

 “He’s a… a bird,” Neville said, a hint of defensiveness creeping in.

“A bird?” Thomas echoed. “What kind? Falcon?”

“Maybe an eagle?” Bramble suggested, eyes lighting up. “We could have a predator flying above us, swooping down with fierce talons!”

“Death from above”, cried Thomas.

“A hawk, maybe?” Maverick chimed in. “Something with some serious airspeed and claws?”

The group got excited, visions of aerial dominance dancing in their heads.

Morrigan scowled, folding his arms. “If he’s a wacko bird with a death wish, sure, why not?”

Thomas clapped Neville on the back. “Seriously though, Nev, extra muscle’s always good.  He’s in.”

The group agreed, high-fiving enthusiastically.

Morrigan muttered under his breath. “Top bird, my arse. Now there’s gonna be some feathered competition…”

Neville hurried out of the den, a big grin on his face.

____________________

Neville found Hercules not far from the old schoolhouse.

“Hey, Herc!  You’re in! The Misfits want you to join!” Neville exclaimed.

Hercules’s eyes widened, and he flapped his wings nervously. “R-really? They’re not just, uh, being nice?”

Neville laughed. “No way! They’re stoked.

Hercules puffed out his chest, lost his balance and stumbled sideways, putting his foot into a bucket.

Hercules looked up, quacking loudly. “Quack! Oh no, no, no! I’m stuck! Help, Nev!”

Neville burst out laughing. “Herc, what’ve you done now?”

Hercules quacked again, stumbling again, the bucket thunking against his leg.

“Herc, stop moving! I’ll get it off.”

Finally managing to free Hercules, Neville straightened up, giggling. “Okay, so… the gang wants you in. It’s a done deal.”

Hercules’s eyes widened, and he let out an excited “QUACK! Really? For real? I’m a Misfit?”

Neville smiled “Yep! You’re officially a Misfit, Herc.”

It is getting pretty close to the end of this campaign now, and I thought I would take a little sideways step from all the story text and share some of the other bits I have been working on.

Burrows and Badgers, at its heart, is a scenario-driven game, and several of the scenarios call for extra models to be protagonists.

Ghasts seem to feature quite a bit in the scenarios in the rulebook, as do cultists and renegade wizard types.  Seems only fair that I did some of those, should they be needed for a game.

I have also done a fair few skeleton animals to bolster the ranks of the undead.  I have no idea what the final game will entail, but I suspect that there will be undead involved.  If the campaign organiser needs more than he has, I will now be in a position to help out.

I had planned on getting another game in tonight, the last before the grand finish at the weekend, alas, work had other plans for me.

So, it looks like my merry little band is as good as it is going to get before the end of this campaign.

I thought it would be fun to do a little breakdown of each of my characters as they prepare to enter the final showdown.

______________________________

In 10th place, based on their level, we have our newest member.

Hercules.  Level 2 Duck (Medium Bird)

There really is not much to say about little Herc, suffice to say, I like ducks.

I had the spare pennies, so I decided to get him some equipment to start with. He has a Mage’s Focus – his hat and 3 lots of Dragonfly Wings.

I gave him the Transpose spell.   I figured that if one of my archers gets dragged into a melee, they don’t want to be in he can use this spell to remove them and replace them with either Maverick or Thomas.

He has not had the chance to get any upgrades yet, so he will be going in fresh and have just the one fate point to start the game with

____________________

Following on from Hercules, we have –

William and Rose, who are both Level 4 Foxes

Yes, I know that is two characters, but they’re identical.

With expert Shot, Bows, Swords and Light Armour.  Foxes are, in my opinion, the best archers in the game.  They have good speed, are good in Melee and have good Ranged skill.

Thanks to some good rolls on the wandering table after my last game, and with the bonus of an Occult Laboratory at the Den, they will be going into battle with 4 fate points each.

(In my last wandering rolls, I got the Tainted Ancient Stones, which gave every model an extra fate point.  A roll of 5 on the Occult lab, giving everyone 3 fate points, and to top it all off, Morrigan found the Blessed ancient stones to give me an extra 5 fate points to distribute amongst the gang.)

____________________

After that, we have three characters who are all level 5, so I shall list them in the order in which they joined the misfits, with the more recent coming first.

And that is…

Maximilliano Vulpine, a Level 5 Ferret.

I was pretty lucky and managed to get Max on one of my wandering rolls quite early in the campaign.  He’s a bit of a rogue and has a thing for the ladies, in particular Bramble.  I have no idea how that came about. I was just trying to think of things that may have made good stories. I was also going to have him become a good friend of Maverick as between the two of them, I expected them to do most of the fighting.

He has A sword, a Bow, Heavy Armour, 6 Broadhead Arrows and 2 doses of Mortal Poison.  He can also ignore the next roll on the major injury chart, something he got when he first met the Rabbits at the Temple of Light, and so far, has not used.

He is also pretty good in melee and has 2 experience points, and thanks to all the bonuses from the last set of wanderings is going into the final battle with 5 fate points.

He has

Tough 2, Fearless and Lucky skills.

____________________

Next up is…

Phillipe Phillop a Level 5 Toad

He also has 5 fate points (same reason as mentioned above.)

He is armed with a +2 Sword of Smiting and Heavy Armour

For skills, he has Strong 3, Tough 4, Natural Hunter, lucky and Killing Blow (Ridiculous really, as I think he has only managed to land one hit in all the games I have played)

____________________

Next is little Neville.

Neville has been consistently amazing, getting perfect rolls at just the right moment, keeping everyone healed and catapulting Maverick into combat when needed.

Neville is a Level 5 Frog

He knows the following spells: Cure, Haste, Lightning and Push.  He carries Haldyn’s Staff and has 3 Elf bolts for his ingredients.  (I can’t trust him with Thyme leaves anymore after he smoked the lot)

He has 4 fate points and 2 Experience points as he goes into the final battle.

I never really expected a lot from Neville, but he has really turned out to be a lifesaver and man of the match for me more than once.  I guess you really should never underestimate the little guy.

Now we start getting into the heavy hitters for my warband.

Thomas is a level 5 Snail (Tortoise Profile)

He was supposed to be my tank, but ended up more like a pillbox.

For skills, he has Tough 5 and Lucky.  He is armed with his trusty mace, heavy armour and a heavy shield.  If he can get into combat, he is pretty good at whacking.

He is going in with 5 fate points (as per my previous post, a lot of my characters are going into the finale with a ridiculous amount of fate)

____________________

Morrigan is next.

He is a level 7 Crow (Large Bird)

He is equipped with a Bow, Sword, Light Armour, 6 Broadhead Arrows and 3 doses of Mortal Poison.

For skills he has, Flight (obviously, he’s a bird), Expert Shot, Wounding Shot and Tough 1

Morrigan has been fun to play, he is incredibly self-centred and does his best to stay away from trouble.  He has a fortitude of 10, making him quite resilient to taking long-term injuries.   He has made a friend of Neville and has something of a love-hate relationship with Thomas.

He is sitting on 4 Fate Points and 2 Experience Points.

____________________

The next up is a bit of a surprise…

Maverick!

Yes, Maverick, my Level 9 Fox, who is also my leader, is not my highest-ranked member.

He has the following skills: Strong 4, Tough 4, Fearless, Lucky and Furious Charge.

He is sitting on 5 Fate Points going into the final battle and is equipped with a Two-Handed Sword, Heavy Armour, +2 Ring of Protection and a Mirror Talisman.

Maverick has been the backbone of my force.  Holding the line where needed and being taken out a few times, although never actually suffering a long-term injury.  If Neville can get a Haste spell off on him, he can cover a lot of ground and give a pretty hefty smack to someone.

____________________

That just leaves the top spot, which goes to…

…Bramble, my second in command, who is a Level 10 Fox.

Bramble has the following Skills.  Strong 1, Tough 1, Expert Shot, Wounding Shot, Crippling Shot and Spot the Weak Point,

She is equipped with a Venom Bow, Sword, Light Armour, a Mirror Talisman and 6 Broadhead Arrows.

Bramble has been very lucky, managing to get not one free advance from the Temple of Light but two.

With a Perfect Roll on her bow after focusing, she hits at 21 points with 11 points added to the wounds, ignoring Tough from armour.  It’s insane.

She will be going into battle with 5 Fate Points.

This is the state of play for the Misfits Den.

Labour Points = 2

Materials = 1

Rating = 57

Coffers = 86 Pennies

Stashed Gear = 11 Broadhead Arrows, 3 Elf Bolts, 1 Thyme Leaves.

Den Upgrades = Study, Library, Archery Range, Magical Garden, Smallholding, Fletcher, Alchemy Laboratory and Occult Laboratory.

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.”

So, what really happened in the final battle?

Well, it’s pretty much as the story goes.  This was a 6-player game, plus the addition of the Necrowmancer and a ton of Ghasts.

This is the briefing from David, the campaign organiser.

______________________________

‘All paths converge upon the ruined hamlet at the centre of the Mercia forest—some of you were led by uncovered clues, others by grim visions, and some by following the trail of foxes through briar and ash.

At the hamlet’s heart stands a broken chapel, encircled by four ancient standing stones carved with forgotten runes. As the parties arrive, each stone exhales a sickly green glow, and from that light spill Mist Wraiths—skull faced and whispering—guardians bound to a deeper, darker will.

Here the truth is finally revealed: the necromouser was no master of death, but a pawn, sent ahead to prepare the way.

Above the chapel ruins, wings beat once in the gloom as the true enemy makes himself known—the Necrowmancer, an ancient crow steeped in death magic, reigning from this blighted lair.

With the Mist Wraiths closing in and the standing stones pulsing with foul power, the final battle is at hand.

If the Necrowmancer falls, the spell upon the land will break, the dead will rest, and word of the victory will reach the prince, who waits to reward those brave enough to end the darkness. Should they fail, the green glow will spread, and the hamlet will be only the first shadow cast across the realm.’

______________________________

Being more than slightly scared of the Mushroom Warband, Koda’s Templers and the Nercowmancer and his Death Magic, I decided that I would try to use Hercules to manipulate the position of people if possible.  If I ever got my hands on some precious loot, it was going to be down to Morrigan to secure it with the intent of passing it on to Thomas to keep it safe.

I would allow the other Warbands to draw as much attention from the Ghasts as possible.

As it happened, the Templars and Mushroom Men not only killed the Necrowmancer between themselves but then also took on each other up to the point where the Templars withdrew.

That opened up a window of opportunity which I exploited by flying Morrigan to start the relay race to get the head of the Necrowmancer off the table.

Hercules then transposed Morrigan and Thomas, allowing Thomas, who is much tougher, to haul the heavy load.

The Transpose spell was perfect and worked like a charm.

After that, it was a matter of keeping Thomas healed up whilst making sure that Neville didn’t get taken out of action.

The plan worked perfectly despite at one point having to take on 3 full Warbands, all intent on taking Thomas down.

Here is the after-action report as written by the event organiser, David.

______________________________

After Action Report – The Ruined Hamlet

The parties closed in on the ruined hamlet from all sides, with the Misfits and Mushrooms arriving ahead of the rest.

As the final approach was made, the chapel was swiftly encircled by a ring of ghosts, their number swollen by ancient, mythical owl‑bears drawn from legend and death alike. Moments later, that spectral cordon was itself surrounded as the remaining warbands took up position, steel, spell, and malice hemming in the heart of the battlefield.

Koda’s Templars struck decisively, gating Barry directly into base contact with the Necrowmancer, who had shifted away from the densest concentration of enemy warbands.

Two brutal swings shattered the crow’s protective magics and left the Necrowmancer clinging to the last threads of life, perfectly set for Koda to finish the deed. Bellowing, “That thing is mine! No‑one steal my kill!” Koda surged forward—only to watch a bolt of fire erase the final vestiges of the crow’s existence before the charge could land. Fury replaced focus.

Turning on the Squirrel Wizards, Koda’s Templars abandoned the fallen Necrowmancer entirely, but a disciplined barrage of spells forced them into an organised retreat rather than the revenge they sought.

Elsewhere, having secured their secondary objective, the newest party withdrew voluntarily, settling into the tower ruins to observe the remainder of the clash from a position of relative safety.

Sensing opportunity, the Misfits moved with ruthless precision. Morrigan swooped in, seized the chest, and passed it cleanly to Thomas. The snail once again proved why the role of tank suited the creature perfectly, absorbing a punishing barrage of spells and charging mushrooms alike while Neville kept the creature moving with timely healing.

What followed was a manoeuvre straight from the Hamchester United playbook: the prize passed from Thomas to Morrigan, then to Rose, who vanished into the forest with the loot.

Against all odds, the Misfits pulled off the greatest heist of their career—and now stand poised for an audience with the Prince himself.

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I will write up some ‘What Happened Next’ soon.