26th September 2020

Saturday evening in the living room. Logged into Google Meeting.

Time for Matakishi's Merry Outlaws campaign to continue.

Location: The Badger Set.

In the few days since Sir Clugney had met his end, much had come to pass.

In the battle for Wenham, Conrad had been felled. His mutilated corpse was hanging on a wooden pole along the road into Wenham at the bridge.
Our minds drifted back to the words of the old woman from weeks ago: "I see an early death for you, beneath a tree.".

Lacking a clear leader, The Peasant's Army had crumbled and dispersed. They had scattered and fled north, harried still by the knights that had been in pursuit of them.

Hexham was besieged by Sir Gaston and a newcomer 'Sir Philippe Phillope'. It was said that behind the closed gates and walls of Hexham, the streets were stalked by plague!

​'Thorbjorn Neilson​, leader of The Black Company had assumed Clugney's seat of power and now ruled in Wedgemore.

Consequently, One of The Black Company knights; 'Matterson the Cruel' now ruled over Billige, along with sixteen men-at-arms.

Sir Gaston had received reinforcements.

It was said that Osric could still be found at Wedgemore.

Finally; it was rumoured that The Crow Folk were planning something, something big?

We discussed our next step at length. Liberating Billige was a priority, but doing so might provoke a retaliatory response from Neilson and we wished to keep the villagers and refugees out of harm's way.

In the end, it was decided that we should strike at Gaston and Neilson's forces. It was likely that the Dumclog Moss Road which ran through The Forest of Caucy would be used to resupply the besieging soldiers at Hexham.

We would harass these supply convoys with hit-and-run attacks, retreating into the safety of the forest whenever needed. It was time that our mettle as outlaws was shown.

With our foresters and Welshmen in tow, we travelled to the road a little way from the Knavesmire ruins, we hid and waited for a suitable target to pass.
Other than a mild breeze sighing though the branches and the birdsong, the forest was quiet. With the destruction of the town, this part of the forest had become uninhabited.

We did not have to wait long: An ox-drawn cart, escorted by four mounted men-at-arms soon came along the road. The perfect target.

Before the cart approached, Randulf positioned himself in the centre of the road, directly in their path.
There he stood, facing them with feet planted wide and sinewy hands resting upon his mace's haft.
"Stand and deliver. Your money or your life!" he yelled.

The convoy halted, from our hiding spot we could see that they did not understand Randulf's threats.
They seemed to grasp his meaning however, as one of the soldiers charged Randulf in reply.

Calder loosed an arrow at the rider, the foresters followed suite and he was toppled off his horse. The horse slowed to a canter and was stopped by Randulf.

The rest of us leapt into action.

A second rider charged at Randulf while the other two started barking orders at the drivers to turn the wagon around.
We quickly dealt with the second charger and turned our attention on the remaining two men-at-arms.
There hadn't been much success moving the wagon, it appeared the drivers didn't seem to understand the orders. 
The two men-at-arms realised they were in trouble, turned and fled, abandoning the cart. We fired a volley at them, killing one. The other we allowed to escape, someone needed to spread the word: The Merry Badgers of Billige now ruled this road.

The cart, it contained food, weapons and surprisingly, number of 'lares'.

We had decided to take the wagon to The Badger Set when all hell broke loose!

A volley of black-feathered arrows rained down on us, we were sent reeling. It could only be The Crow Folk.
There was a score of them, dressed entirely in black and they were on us before we could gain our bearings. At the rear of were two in crow masks, the two last Crow Brothers

The Crow Folk outnumbered us had the momentum, we were put on to the back foot. Blows were exchanged and we struck down several of their number. But we did not escape injury and most of the foresters and Welshmen were forced to retreat into the cover of the forest. I too was driven into the trees.

This had left an opening in the melee, Mopsa and Randulf charged the Crow Brothers, Calder followed them in.

Most of The Crow Folk stopped to witness this fight. Meanwhile I had managed to lose my attackers.
I returned to the tree line and returned to the fight.

In the end, we prevailed against the Crow Brothers, both were slain.
A silence fell upon the forest, punctuated only by the breathing from our exertions, the fighting was over.

Eight Crow Folk remained. Their leaders were dead and they were hesitant, we could see it in their posture.

Mopsa seized the moment and told them that if they forswore their old ways, they could join The Merry Badgers. They would have to help the needy yes, but they would never be under the yoke of a sheriff or a lord.
Her oratory​ was impressive and convinced them to join with us, our numbers had grown by eight.

Before leaving, we searched the fallen Crow Folk and were most surprised to find Phillip the 'simpleton' from The Three Stoats and a Weasel inn among the dead.
Long had we suspected that The Crow Folk had a spy at the inn, at one time we had even suspected Phillip.
Now we had a macabre confirmation.

Since Phillip had been to our camp, it meant that The Crow Folk also new its location.
With the last two Crow Brothers defeated, we hoped that their strength was broken and now leaderless, they would disband and disperse. Hopefully it was an end to their threat.

The return to The Badger Set was uneventful, we noticed that our new recruits already knew the way...

After our arrival, we spoke to Leopold and Edith, they were quite upset to learn of Phillip's demise. We told them that they should not feel too bad, he was after all a member of a gang of pitiless killers.
They did not seem very consoled, Edith stated that she would offer up a prayer for him.

After arming everyone as best as possible, it was decided that the remaining weapons should be taken to The Drumclog Few.
When last we had seen them, they were armed with pitiful blunt wooden weapons, making their slim chances of defeating professional soldiers even slimmer.

On the following day, we rose in the early morning coolness, a thin mist hung low over the hazy, silent landscape.
Eschewing the cart, we hid the weapons in bundles of sticks before heading off cross country, over the dewy fields towards Drumclog Moss.

For the first leg of our journey we did not encounter a single soul until we reached the Drumclog Moss road.
The road was no longer a safe place for outlaws, we had to be cautious, the forest lay on the other side of the road and crossing it could be a risk.

Our concerns were well founded. The road was heavily patrolled by soldiers bearing Sir Philippe's colours. They were spaced out to cover as much of the road as possible without losing sight of one another. They must have been part of the besieging forces.
Patiently, we had to bide our time until we could safely cross.

Crossing over safely and soon after entering the Drumclog Moss, the road was lost from sight behind layers of tangled bushes and foliage. Tall gnarled oaks loomed over us as sunlight dimly flittered through the swaying branches above.

The location of The Drumclog Few's camp was not known to us, but no doubt they had been watching the patrols and had also watched us cross. no doubt they were watching us at this very moment.

We did not have to wait long to be proven correct. Emerging from shadows came a small, limping man. He introduced himself and we exchanged pleasantries. He told us that he remembered seeing us in the forest a while ago and complimented Randulf on his quarterstaff skills.

We explained that we were here to see Hugh the Silent. The limping man led us deeper into Drumclog Moss, along faint trails, under ancient boughs and through forgotten hollows.

Eventually the forest opened up somewhat into a clearing of sorts. This was the camp of The Drumclog Few; it was a messy, filthy place and was filled with the sick and the infirm. Nobody here had escaped disfigurement or disease.

As we entered the camp, Hugh and Leaking Sam approached us.
Sam greeted us while Hugh stared at us inexpressively.
"Hugh is very pleased to see you," claimed Sam.

They were also very pleased to receive the weapons we gifted them. They said that they had attacked Philippe's soldiers several times and had been driven back at every attempt, hopefully these weapons would help.

Finally we explained that we were planning to move against Gaston et al. and there may come a time when we call upon The Drumclog Few for aid.
"Call and we will come," replied Sam.

There was nothing left to do; so we returned to The Badger Set. Once again avoiding the roads and marching cross country.

The next day came. We now numbered twenty and it was high time to take fight back against our enemies.

Our first targets were Drumclog Castle and Billige, our intention was to free them from beneath the fist of The Black Company.

We would start with the castle, we had heard that Matterson was camped there, along with eight French soldiers.

As the sun was beginning to sink into the west, we set out for Drumclog Castle. Entering the same copse we had hidden ourselves in during our first escapade.

From our hiding spot we watched: Work was under way in restoring the castle, but progress would be slow. There were however, several differences here.
Two black-and-white tents had been set up, as well as another large tent. There were also several wooden huts here, constructed by the workmen.
Finally, we spied two lookouts on the castle's single surviving tower.

The black-and-white tents would be for Matterson and his retinue, but who was in which tent we could not tell. The larger tent would be for the Frenchmen.

Under the cover of darkness, we quickly concocted a plan.

Firstly, we sent the four Welshmen a quarter-mile down the path that led to Billige. They had instructions to finding a hiding spot and wait. If anyone from the castle managed to slip past us, the Welshmen would ambush them. Conversely, if anyone came up the path from Billige, they could warn us.

Next were the lookouts, a volley of a dozen arrows dealt with them.

The foresters and the crows numbered twelve, that should be enough to handle the six remaining French soldiers.

Calder and Mopsa would handle one black-and-white tent, Randulf and I would deal with the other one.

Calder sneaked into a tent slyly, fortune was not with him though and in the darkness he blundered and kicked a bucket over.
This tent contained Matterson's two young squires, the noise they awoke and desperately reached for weapons. It was too late for them though, Calder managed to dispatch the pair of them before they could mount a defence.

Meanwhile in the other tent, Randulf and I quietly approached, as we entered the occupants woke up. Matterson was here, along with two women who began screaming.

Matterson leapt to his feet, grasping a dagger.
Randulf squared off against Matterson for a moment, before charging him, yelling loudly.
I stood back and watched.

Randulf wrestled Matterson to the ground, attempting to subdue him. Matterson in response, lashed out with his dagger. Randulf managed to fend off the blade, but this gave Matterson the opportunity to break free from Randulf's grip.

Randulf was staggered, Matterson slashed a cut in the tent and forced his way out. He did not get far though, I tackled him and we crashed to the ground, the struggle with Randulf had left Matterson wearied and I managed to pummel him into unconsciousness.

At the same time, we heard a long note being blown on a forester's horn! What the blazes were they doing?
We went to the tent, it was a bloody mess, the foresters and crows had made short work of the soldiers within.

The foresters had blown their horn to signify their victory, they explained! They had also cheerfully adorned themselves with the armour, weapons and helmets of the dead soldiers.
To absolutely no one's surprise, once the foresters were loaded down with loot, they cheerfully wandered off back to their home, leaving us to it.

The two women and the workers were no threat and we left them to their own business.

Matterson was now our prisoner, he was trussed up like a chicken and we bought him along with us to Billige.

It was the dead of night when we arrived, along one side of the village was a swathe of sprawling tents inhabited by the Knavesmire refugees. Villagers displaced by The Black Company had swelled their numbers even further.
Billige was a dark and silent place. It's few small streets deserted, doors closed and windows shuttered. Dim wavering candlelight betrayed activity in a few homes.

Ensuring Matterson was gagged, we entered the village centre and tied him to the maypole.

The villagers had told us that there were sixteen Teuton soldiers here, each had taken a house for themselves. The previous occupants forced to find shelter elsewhere.
Their numbers equalled ours, but we had no interest in a fair fight.

Instead we came up with a simple plan. We paired off into eight small teams, each pair would creep into houses containing a Teuton soldier and hopefully kill him in his sleep.

It was a gruesome, cold blooded task, but it was effective. By the time we had visited all sixteen houses, we had managed to quietly kill nine of them. We could not reach the remaining seven, either their doors were locked or they were still awake.

Nevertheless, the odds now greatly favoured us. A pair of us hid outside the door of every remaining Teuton and waited.
Randulf went into the village centre and made a great racket, threatening them by roaring. "Stand and deliver. Your money or your lives,".

As the seven remaining Teutons came out to investigate, they were ambushed. Five were immediately slain, the last two tried to flee into the village centre but they too were cut down.

The Teutons were all dead, Billige had been liberated. There might be repercussions in the future, but for now, the people were free.

Scant minutes ago Billige had been oppressively quiet and empty, now cheering people filled the village centre.

The foresters had reappeared, they were talking about instigating a militia to protect Billige and has luck would have it: The foresters just happened to have some equipment they would happily sell to the villagers for a reasonable price...

For the folk of Billige it was the hour for celebration, for The Merry Badgers, it was the hour for rest, it had been a taxing night.

As we left Billige for The Badger Set, we left Matterson the Cruel tied to the maypole, left to the villager's tender mercies...

So ended the seventh adventure of The Merry Badgers of Billige.

19th September 2020

Saturday evening had come around again. In the living room, I'm logged into Skype.

This means it's time for Matakishi's​ Merry Outlaws campaign.

Location: The Badger Set.

A few days had passed since we had raided and gutted Wedgemore Castle.

Billige was filling up with Knavesmire's refugees. News that Conrad and Clugney were practically in open war had reached the village.
More neews that Sir Roland had closed the gates at Hexham in preparation for a siege had also reached Billige.
There was a lot of nervous talk, people were worried and understandably so.

It was time to see what was going on at Wedgemore. It was quiet journey through the remote deeps of Caucy forest, a respite of calmness from the chaos unfolding around it.

Wedgemore looked as affluent as before, the people looked happy and well fed, farms were well stocked with cattle.
The town was quiet, there were a few people about, along with some soldiers.

As we watched from the tree line, we saw a group of riders coming into the town from the north road.

Three knights garbed entirely in black armour, armed with warhammers headed a retinue of likewise dressed mounted men-at-arms, equipped as they were with axes and flails.
​These were no English or French knights.

I recognised them, the three of them were 'Teutonic knights'. Hailing from north Europe, it was said that they did not follow the knightly code and were shunned by other knights.

The few townsfolk and soldiers in Wedgemore cheered as the knights rode in. As they were distracted, we took the opportunity to quietly slip into the village.

Then we watched as the riders dismounted and stretched their limbs, their journey at an end. The knights issued orders to two of their men, one small, the other massive. They must have been sergeants for the men-at arms.

We also noticed overhead; a pigeon, unusually flying straight to the castle. It had come from the north-east - the direction of Hexham...

The three knights went off in the direction of the castle. The men-at-arms headed for The Looted Chapel. We decided to follow the men-at-arms.

Inside it was heaving, arrival of newcomers had filled the inn to capacity, so loud we could feel it shaking our guts.
The locals were cheering and buying the newcomers drinks.

We bought ourselves drinks and listened:

- The newcomers, the knights and man-at-arms called themselves 'The Black Company' and they come from Osric's homeland.
- They were here to fight the 'unjust king', he was but a boy who did not know his own mind and was looking to reinforce his own power.
- Thanks to the 'Magna Carta', it was the Barons who should rule.
- Once Wenham has been taken, then Hexham will be next.

Caldor approached the smaller sergeant and offered to buy him drink, the sergeant readily accepted. 

He introduced himself as 'Beorn Ironhand' of the Black Company, he was armed with a large hammer.
Beorn explained that he had journeyed far and crossed the sea on an open boat. Summoned here by Osric who was calling in a favour.
The journey had been long and tedious, leaving him eager for a fight, he was looking forward to tomorrow.

The only 'action' he had enjoyed recently was burning down an inn on the way to Wedgemore, because the look of it offended him.
This concerned us, we asked Beorn where the inn had been. Beorn told us it was along the forest road a few miles before reaching Wedgemore.
This news did not leave us happy...

We also took the opportunity to listen to the general news on the progress of Sir Clugney's efforts against Sir Conrad:
- Wedgemore Castle had been gutted by fire. Sir Clugney and his household soldiers now sleept in tents, in a place known as 'The Camp'.
- Conrad still holds the bridge.
- There are plans to take Wenhan and them Hexham.
- They are waiting for 'northerners' to join with Clugney.
- The Black Company goes into battle tomorrow. The soldiers would be billeted with towns folk for the night.

No one seemed to know who northerners referred to, except that it did not mean The Black Company, they were somebody else?

It was time to leave and discuss our next move. We had learnt as much as we could learn in The Looted Chapel. As we left, Randulf turned his head and gave a 'knowing smile' to the massive sergeant, who looked about with confusion!

We agreed that our next destination was Wenham, 'northerners' might refer to an attack from the north.
We also agreed to detour towards Knavesmire and check on the state of the inn.

The journey to Knavesmire was short. The sight that met our eyes was a grim one.

The Three Stoats and a Weasel had indeed burnt down. Black smoke still rose from the ruined inn, the fire had been very recent, embers still glowed deep from within the pile of ash. The walls had collapsed in on themselves and only the thickest scorched timbers survived.

Even grimmer were the bodies that were strung up along the road. It was a morbid task, but we had to try and identify them. We did not recognise them.

Knavesmire was silent, the inn had been the last part of village still standing. Now it was as devastated as the rest. Knavesmire was as much of a corpse as the poor souls along the road.

There was nothing else to do but to double back to Wenham. The road could not be trusted these days, so we stayed beneath the shaded cover of the woods and headed west until we reached the Scarmore River, from there we followed it until we got close to the bridge.

The furthest reaches of The Forest of Caucy stretched to the bridge to Wenham. This was fortunate as it allowed us assess the situation from within the safe confines of the trees.

Conrad still held the bridge, while Clugney's forces, mostly consisting of Gaston's men were camped out a way back from the bridge.

There were signs of fighting here, scores of spent arrows dotted the area around the bridge and the span between the warring factions, a number of bodies floating in the river here, caught up against the banks.

Clugney's forces lacked the strength to break through the defensive position on the bridge. Meanwhile Conrad's forces lacked the numbers to break out and face Clugney's on the open field.
Whilst Conrad's forces were clearly outnumbered, the battle appeared to be at an impasse. At least until tomorrow, when The Black Company waded in.

None of this mattered to us right now though, they was no way we could cross the Scarmore here. We had to double back yet again and cross at the westernmost ford in the forest.

We knew this part of the forest was roamed by The Crow Folk, but we also knew the forest quite well by now and the location of their settlement.
So we quietly moved along the winding trails, cautiously pushing through the thickets and bushes. Pressing on until we heard a shrill scream!

Shrill screams were not something that we associated with The Crow Folk, nevertheless we reached for our weapons. Perhaps somebody was in trouble?

Listening carefully, we heard the sounds of a petty squabble! This was no Crow Folk, we stepped out of hiding and revealed ourselves.
There was an arguing man and woman and some children, the man looked around nervously and the women visibly flinched.
They seemed quite fearful, we assured them we meant them no harm.

The man introduced himself as 'Thomas Mossman' and his wife as 'Elsbeth'.
Their farm north of Little Wenham had been invaded by 'The Peasant's Army' who were travelling to the south to attack The King in London. Thomas said they numbered in the thousands.
Thomas and his family had been forced to flee into the forest and had gotten lost.

More refugees it seemed. We gave gifted them some coins, gave them directions to Billige and bid them a safe journey.

This Peasant's Army had come from the north, could they be the northerners we heard about in Wedgemore? It seemed likely.

After the Mossman family headed south, we turned and went north. Without any further mishap or incident we forded the river, exited the forest and marched cross-country. It was the afternoon when we got close to Little Wenham.

Across the flat fields and farmlands, families and bands of people were heading southwards, carrying whatever they could as they fled the encroaching enemy.

Distant as it was, we could just about make out The Peasant's Army on the horizon. They had stopped for the day in farmland north of Little Wenham in amongst some houses.
As Makeshift tents were being erected, the foragers were out looking for supplies, taking whatever food and cattle they could find, breaking into any building they encountered.

Calder had experience at soldiering, he estimated their number at three thousand.

We headed into Little Wenham wondering if anyone had any further information. Much of it had emptied in expectation of what was to follow. What we did find was small band of Conrad's soldiers, they were desperately trying to fortify the village in a futile attempt to somehow thwart the invasion.

'Sergeant Martin' was the man in charge, he spoke to us whilst ordering his men about their work. Martin explained that The Peasant's Army had been slowly marching south for months. They were being pursued by knights loyal to The King and he hoped to slow them down enough for the knights to catch up.
Martin went on to tell us that The Peasant's Army was lead by 'Piers Plowright', if someone was to kill him, it would leave the army in disarray and without direction.

After telling Sergeant Martin about the attack coming from the south. He told that he had to stay here, but he would sent message with a fleeing villager to Sir Conrad. Finally he added that it wasn't Sir Clugney that was the true problem, it was his friends.

We left Sergeant Martin and his men to it.
After a lengthy discussion, we decided that we had to weaken Sir Clugney's position. If Clugney broke through the bridge's defences, he would quickly wreak havoc in Wenhem and be close to defeating Conrad.
​This meant killing Piers Plowright.

It was decided that we would need some poison, so Mopsa and Randulf headed out, over to the Priory.
Randulf asked to speak Mother Benevolence, he asked her for some poison to deal with some injured dogs.
Mother Benevolence however, was skeptical of Randulf's motives and refused to give him any poison.

Mopsa then spoke to Mother Benevolence who took her into the priory, led her into a quiet room and sat her down.
Mother Benevolence tried to convince her to leave our band and join her at the priory, Mopsa refused and pressed for the poison.

Mother Benevolence asked Mopsa why she wanted the poison so much.
Mopsa explained that Clugney had recruited foreign knights in his war against Conrad, the poison was for these knights.
"Well, why didn't you say so," replied Mother Benevolence. She then went and gave Mopsa a hemlock potion. She explained that it would be potent against up to half a dozen people.

It had reached late in the afternoon and Little Wenham was bathed in the blazing light of a setting sun. The golden hue that warmed the village belied the violent threat from the north.
​Before going into the 'lion's den' that was The Peasant's Army camp, we waited until was dark.

Infiltrating the camp was actually easy, they were an ill-disciplined, rough-looking, haphazard lot; we fited right in!
Without guards or lookouts, we could thread our way through the shadows cast by their billowing campfires. No one paid us any attention anyway, they were too concerned with getting comfortable for the night to notice the infiltrators in their own camp.

Somewhere is this sprawl of ramshackle tents was Piers Plowright. As their leader, it was likely that he would be somewhere safe, at least somewhere safer than these tents.

Numerous farmhouses and outbuildings dotted the campsite, but we could easily see that they were noisy and packed out with sleepers. Plowright was unlikely to be in any of those.

There was one small cottage however, that was quieter than the others. Crucially, we saw that there two guards outside the door. This had to be the place.

​Calder decided he would be the one to sneak in and deal with Plowright.
Making sure we stayed out of the guards' views, we cased the cottage's exterior. There was a window at the back.

Cautiously, Calder crept in through the window. The inside was shrouded in darkness, a few weak shafts of whitish moonlight played across the interior and he could barely make out four men asleep.

Calder looked around; he was trying to discern who might be Piers Plowright when he spotted a smaller mezzanine above.

Carefully as he could, Calder climbed up to the gloomy mezzanine. Here was a sleeping man, he was alone. This had to be Plowright.
Calder gripped his knife tightly and bent low. Quietly, he slit Plowright's throat.
​Hopefully with his death, confusion and dissention would be sown amongst his army.

Now that the dark deed was done, Calder needed to exit the cottage. Fortunately there was a window on the mezzanine level, Calder opened it and managed to climb down without making a noise.

Calder circled back round to us, he moved as silently as a stalking cat; even we, who were on the lookout for him could not hear his approach.

Once Calder re-joined us, we successfully escaped the camp.

Like spectres we had made our way into and out of the camp unseen and struck at Piers Plowright in the heart of their camp. He was dead and no one in the camp was the wiser.

A shining moon hung high in the night sky, there were still hours till dawn and this was no time to rest.

It was a hard march south back to Wedgemore. Dim moonlight made for a poor walking guide. The open ground was not challenging, but the inky depths of the forest were not so easily penetrated by those argent rays.
Under those heavy shadows we blundered, stumbled and blindly crashed our way through the trees. The noise would've woken the dead, had the dead been foolish enough to cross a forest at night!
What seemed an incalculable amount of time must have passed when we eventually broke out of the forest, found the road and continued south.

As we neared Wedgemore once more, a rosy, wispy glow in the east promised that dawn would soon be upon us.

The bustle of activity at the camp was apparent, even in the murky half-light of the small hours.

The location of the three Teutons were known to us, even their tents were black!
We had planned to try and poison the the Teutonic knights' food or water supplies before they began their attack. 
It was clear that Clugney was mustering all his men for a dawn attack against Conrad's defences and alas, it was too late for poisoning.

We needed a new strategy and fast!

There was no time for subtlety, after a quick confab we came up with a more direct plan.

We retreated north, back to the woods close to the bridge, except this time on the southern side of the road and waited, hidden in the foliage with our bows.

Little time passed before Sir Clugney led his force along the road. We continued to wait. They stopped short of the bridge and were grouping for their attack. Still we waited, timing was critical.

At the head of the group were The Black Company, in the centre were Gaston's and Clugney's men and at the rear were Sir Gaston and Sir Clugney themselves.

As we waited, Sir Clugney gave the word and the the advance began. From the soldiers rose a thunderous roar and cheer that almost shook the ground as they began their attack on the bridge.

Now that they had committed to the attack and could not afford to pull back, we could strike!

The soldiers surged past us at the bridge, as the rear end of the column passed, the four of us loosed arrows at Sir Clugney. He was struck several times and swayed alarmingly in his saddle.
The din and clamour of charging men masked our action, we could see Gaston desperately looking amount as he moved forward, but no one spotted us.

A second volley was launched at Clugney. He toppled from his horse and hit the ground awkwardly with a resounding crash.
some of the soldiers at the back were now shouting and pointing, they had made us out.

Sir Gaston was visibly torn, he could not allow his men to advance leaderless. He ordered a squad of men-at-arms to attack us and check on Clugney before wheeling his horse round the bridge and following his men.

A group of men-at-arms advanced on us, but we dropped several of them up with our bows and the remainder retreated.

We had a moment to breathe and take stock.

The noise of battle carried over from the bridge. Not much could be seen over there in the chaotic churn of soldiers, but clearly the defences had collapsed. Soldiers were streaming across the bridge.

Turning back to Clugney, four men-at-arms were entirely concentrating on attending the barely moving prone man. The two closest had their backs to us.
Conrad, Mopsa and I fired off arrows at them and they both slumped to the ground.

At the same time, Randuf charged in yelling, wielding his mace high above his head.

As Randulf reached Clugney, the two soldiers, still kneeling stared at him, wide-eyed, mouths agape and empty handed.
For the briefest of moments, Randulf made eye contact with both of them. Then, with all his might, swung his mace down on to Clugney's head!

Clugney convulsed once, twitched and stopped moving altogether; he was dead, most definitely dead. The two men-at-arms realising the game was up, jumped to their feet and fled.

Beyond the bridge, The Black Company had led Clugney's forces into Wenham, the clanging clash of weapons carried over the river, as well as the screaming and the crackling of fire. Thin columns of smoke were beginning to rise. It would be a bad day for Wenham.

The morning shadows were long, the sun had cleared the horizon and was brightly dawning on a bloody day.
There was nothing else we could do now. We could only hope that the death of Sir Clugney would stall the attack on Sir Conrad.

It was time to return to The Badger's Set. It had been a long day, the forced march through the night had taken its toll and we were exhausted.

The journey back to our hideout was uneventful. When we arrived, there was a small sliver of good news awaiting us.
In our camp were Leopold and his family, as well as Emlyn. They had survived The Black Company's brutal assault on their inn and fled to where so many Knavesmire refugees had gone; Billige.

​Wat Taylor had been in Billige on some business when he spotted them and bought them to The Badger's Set.
They were welcomed to our Band of Badgers.

So ended the sixth adventure of The Merry Badgers of Billige.

12th September 2020

I'm logged into Skype in the living room and it's a Saturday evening.

Time for part 5 of Matakishi's Merry Outlaws campaign.

Location: The Forest of Caucy.

We had learnt that a column of French knights and soldiers led by Sir Gilbert would be travelling to Wedgemore via The Drumclog Moss road and they would be carrying a lot of money!
We knew it was going to be soon, in the next day or two and we wanted that money!

After much discussion, we formulated a plan.

For this to work we would need the help of our Welsh outlaws as well the foresters from Billige, fortunately, they were more than happy to join our cause.

Our plan would involve a two-part ambush at Drumclog Moss.

The first step was create some traps in the forest, close to the road.

Then we would split into two groups, one large and the other small. The foresters would be the smaller group and lie in hiding next to the traps, further along the road from the rest of us.

As the column passed the large group, the forester up ahead would appear on the road, shoot some arrows at the column and run back into the forest
Hopefully Sir Gilbert would order a detachment of his men to give chase, then the wily foresters would lead them into the traps.

Now that they were distracted and their numbers were lessened, the rest of us in the large group would lunge in and get the money.

​That was the theory anyway.

For now our band consisted of twelve, we left our camp in the morning and travelled to Drumclog Moss without incident.

Drumclog Moss was an ancient forest, older than Caucy. The oaks were darker, thicker and more twisted with old roots than ran deep. The bushes and shrubs, denser and somehow more prickly, even the sunlight that shone through its branches seemed weaker. There was an undeniable gloom to the forest, it hung in the air and whispered in the rustling leaves.

The south-western edge of the forest had been deforested by Sir Clugney's men for their construction work,  the rest however was untouched.

The road ran along the southern edge of the forest and that's where we set up our ambush and waited.

A few hours passed and the column came past, it was larger than we expected. There were:
Seven knights on horseback armed with spears.
Two dozen footmen, armed with spear and sword.
Thirty heavily laden mules and a equal number of 'civilian' handlers.

Truth be told, we hesitated when deciding whether to attack or not; but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

We signalled the foresters to do their thing. They stepped out on to the road and loosed some shafts at the column, one of the knights slumped to the ground.
Orders were barked in French, three knights and six footmen gave chase.

Was it enough? Could we deal with the remainder of the soldiers? Should we go for the money?

We were denied our decision suddenly, out of nowhere another band of outlaws from a different part of the forest jumped out of the bushes and swooped down on ropes to attack!
Their numbers were large, but they were even more shabby than us. With tattered clothes, they were covered in filth, many of them disfigured or missing limbs. They mostly wielded rudimentary wooden weapons and did not look like much of a match for the professional French soldiers they were attacking.

Quickly we assessed the situation: The knights chasing our foresters had baulked at the tree line, aware they would lose their advantage in the trees, they were currently wheeling their horses round to return. The footmen at least had disappeared into the forest.
Meanwhile at the column, a sprawling melee had begun, as the entire military company focussed on the battle at hand. Unfortunately as we had surmised, the other outlaws were taking losses and were on the back foot.
We saw that the handlers were struggling with the mules. We also saw that eight of the mules were carrying chests.
The distraction would not last much longer, it was now or never.

We charged in, our plan was simple, there were eight mules and eight of us, one mule apiece.

Brandishing our weapons we advanced on the mules and drove the handlers away, some required a 'touch more persuasion' than others it must be said.
As we were grabbing our targets, we slapped the other mules, hoping to panic them. Meanwhile the handlers had regrouped, they considered mobbing us, but too late! We had escaped into the forest.

Our plan now was to march through the centre of Drumclog Moss to the northern side. Hopefully this would dissuade any and all pursuers.  
Few were the trails that we trod as they ran their ways through the deep hollows and otherworldly dells. The unaware could easily lose themselves in the quiet gloom here. Fortunately we managed to navigate it without mishap and eventually caught sight of the forest's edge.

We stopped here. our next move was to wait for nightfall before returning to our camp. If we were lucky, the hue and cry would have died down by then.

A few hours passed uneventfully, but the silence was broken by the distinct crack of a snapping twig. Leaping to our feet, shocked that we had been ambushed; we prepared to fight the soldiers.
We were most definitely not expecting who we saw next.

​There stood a small ragged looking man, covered in sores and infections, he was also letting off an incredible smell.
He introduced himself as 'Leaking Sam' a member of 'The Drumclog Few' and that he spoke for their leader 'Hugh the Silent'!
Sam politely explained that the mules belong to him. We disagreed, stating that they were ours, we had them, not The Drumclog Few.

As we were speaking a giant of man appeared behind Sam, about seven foot tall and carrying a club, we noticed that his ears had been cut off.
Sam explained that this giant was Hugh, he led The Drumclog Few with his charisma and leadership.
Hugh silently looked at us.

Behind Hugh, we saw many more people emerging from behind the shadowed trees, like Sam and Hugh, they were disfigured or sickly and dressed in rags.
They may have been named The Drumclog Few, but in number they were many.

We noticed amongst the crowd our four foresters held prisoner, they were bound and struggling.

It also did not escape our notice that these were possibly the most impoverished people we had met and surely deserving our at least a portion of what we had stolen, they had certainly paid a price for it.
We made them an offer of two mules, but Sam refused it.

Sam then glanced at Hugh for a few seconds then announced that there would be a contest for the mules. The Drumclog Few champion verses our champion.
Hugh pointedly stared at Mopsa.

We negotiated the terms of the contest with Sam.
In the end we agreed to give five mules to The Drumclog Few and keep two for ourselves, the contest would be over a single mule.

Our champion was Randulf, surprisingly their champion was not Hugh, but Sam!
Both were given a quarterstaff and the contest began!

Sam was quick, surprisingly so in fact and they rapidly exchanged strikes and blows. Randulf's experience held him in good stead here and he managed to land several telling blows on Sam. Who stepped back and yielded, complimenting Randulf on his fighting skills.
Everyone applauded.

Victory was ours, as was the third mule and the foresters, now freed.
With that, The Drumclog Few bid us farewell, slipping away back into the remote part of the forest that they inhabited.

Now with three mules, we waited until night finally came and exited the forest. Circling Drumclog Moss, we travelled cross country, avoiding all contact as best we could.
Soon enough we arrived at the Drumclog Moss Road, crossing over would be the riskiest part of our journey.
Cautiously we watched both ways on the road and had to avoid a torch-carrying patrol before crossing over and returning to camp.

Even though it was quite late, we counted our spoils, there were six thousand French coins in all, two thousand per chest.
As was fair, we gave one chest to the foresters, who after splitting it four ways were very happy with their haul. We warned them to be careful, flashing around so many french coins around so soon after the ambush might draw suspicion on them.
As they sauntered off, they rather unconvincingly told us that they 'would bear it in mind'​.

We still had four thousand coins to distribute!

Morning arrived and we had decided to take a chest of coins to Friar Nicholas in Hexham.
The journey was unremarkable, but upon reaching the town gates at mid-morning, we saw more guards posted here than usual. We would need to exercise extra caution with them.
Our concern was unfounded and we entered Hexham without a hitch, the guards were barely paying us any attention and were focused on watching the inward bound road .
Something was up, was this to do with the ambush?

Before going to visit the good friar, we thought it prudent to hear some local news. This of course meant frequenting the local tavern, a reluctant task for all of us.
Chat and gossip spread as freely in Hexham as anywhere else, which means to say; it spread a lot! Several rumours and stories were 'doing the rounds':

- Lady Margaret was pregnant.
- Building work has been undertaken at Knavesmire. Sir Clugney intends to rebuild all the cottages there.
- There was an unsuccessful attack on a convoy led by The Drumclog Few.
- Drumclog Castle is also being rebuilt by Sir Clugney, once the largest castle in the region, it might be again in days to come.

Some of this was not news to us, but the rebuilding of Knavesmire was something we had not heard of until now.

Next we sought out Friar Nicholas and handed over a chest of two thousand French coins to disperse as he saw fit.

Finally we decided to go and see Lady Margaret. The ring that she had gifted us granted passage to her chambers in Hexham Castle.
Lady Margaret was in a foul mood.
We asked what vexed her so? She replied that Sir Conrad's patrols were roaming Sir Clugney's lands and picking fights with his men. Sir Conrad had also threatened Sir Roland by sending men into his lands.

It seemed to us that Lady Margaret championed Sir Clugney, was cold towards her husband Sir Roland and was contemptuous of Sir Conrad.
As she spoke we noticed a new object in her chamber: It depicted a strange little house or cottage with two stones outside it, perhaps it was a shrine of some sort? Although definitely not Christian in origin.
Lady Margaret saw us looking at it and explained that it was a gift from Osirc, he had called it a 'lare', a symbol of good luck from his country.
As she had told us this, she made the same gesture we had seen from Osric.

Whilst looking at the lare, it seemed as if the front of the house might open up...?
It was at this point that Lady Margaret distracted us away from it by saying she was busy and ushered us out of her chamber.

After our abrupt exit, we looked for Krea. Unable to spot her, we inquired with the other ladies-in-waiting?
Krea had been cleaning some curtains in the castle and had fallen out the window, tumbling to her death!
"She was flighty, but could not fly." Lady Margaret had commented darkly.
​Things did not seem right here at all.

There was nothing left for us to do in Hexham, so we discussed our next move. The news of construction work at Knavesmire had piqued our curiosity, we also wanted to check in on our friend Emlyn.
So, off to Knavesmire we went.

We followed the Drumclog Moss road westward until it headed through the forest. A mile or so out of Knavesmire, rising up through the gaps in the trees, we saw a column of curling black smoke, the acrid smell of burning also hung in the air.
There was a big fire ahead, it had to be in Knavesmire.

Driven by urgency, we quickened our pace and hurried onward.
Our arrival was met with what could only be described as a apocalyptic sight.

Smoke, thick and black lingered above the village, shrouding it in darkness, the sun had been reduced to a hazy dim orange globe. Walking into Knavesmire was like walking into a hellish red twilight lit by the roaring conflagration that was consuming nearly every house. The heat was immense and our eyes were stung by the smoke, even the maypole was burning
Leopold and his family were desperately hurling bucket upon bucket of water on to their inn. Thus far, it had not been reached by the fire.

As fast as the fire was spreading, so was the panic. Soldiers in Sir Conrad's colours were here; unbelievably some of them wielded flaming brands and were torching the houses. The remaining soldiers were caught up in a prolonged melee with an enemy dressed in all black! The Crow Folk no doubt, who had emerged from the forest to battle the soldiers.
Caught in this crossfire were the hapless villagers, the fighting left them unable to save anything except their lives and even there, they were failing.

In between filling and emptying buckets, Leopold managed to tell us that Sir Conrad's men had rode into Knaves mire bearing already lit torches and began setting houses alight. Soon after that The Crow Folk appeared and fighting broke out.

Even we were left staggered by what we saw. Who should we help? Conrad's men, or The Crow Folk? Both seemed equally bad.

Before long however, the tide of the battle shifted and The Crow Folk began gaining the upper hand. Sir Conrad's men were pushed back and forced to retreat.

We found one of Conrad's soldiers left behind, he was badly wounded and in a bad way. We moved him from the burning buildings and bound his wounds as best we could.
Before he died, he told us that he had been ordered here and Sir Conrad was 'fighting back' against Sir Clugney.

By now The Crow Folk had disappeared and only the villagers remained, hopelessly trying to end the fires.
It seemed a lost cause though, even the piles of building materials bought into the village for the rebuilding we had heard about were burning.

We helped the villagers extinguish the fires, but the damage had been done. No house had escaped the burning and barely any even still stood. Only the inn had survived untouched - and that because it stood apart from the houses.
Knavesmire was littered with the dead and the homeless, these survivors set about the grim task of burying the fallen.

After some discussion amongst us, we decided to lead the survivors to Billige. We would give them a thousand coins from the final chest we had 'liberated'. They could use that money to buy lodging in Billige until more housing was built. Hopefully the materials from the Drumclog Castle could be used for this. 

It did not take the people of Knavesmire long to prepare for the short march, most of their belongings had been reduced to ash.

The blackened remains of the village were left behind and it was late afternoon by the time we all reached Billige. Our arrival had stirred quite a commotion as well as unease at the fate of Knavesmire.
Still, the people of Billige were generous enough to put up the Knavesmire folk, at least as long as the coins were flowing anyway.

It had been a long day, but as late as it was, the day was far from over.
Even though we were away from ruined Knavesmire, we were not beyond the reach of Sir Conrad. As the sun sunk behind the western horizon and night was nearly upon us, we spied the approach of riders, closing fast along the trail from the north. With them they carried lit flickering torches, the torches numbered perhaps a dozen and the riders double that.
Sir Conrad was brazen to strike so deep into Sir Clugney's domain.

The Knavesmires survivors had seen this scene scant few hours before, they fled Billige screaming and running for the shelter of the forest.

We knew that there had to be at least a small company of Sir Clugney's men at Drumclog castle, the village's fastest runner was dispatched to fetch them. Meanwhile we told the women and children to flee towards the castle.

We did our best to quickly arm any volunteers who remained, luckily the foresters numbered among them.
The gloom of night was beginning to settle in, but the rider's torches made for an adequate target for our arrows.

We loosed two volleys at them and cut down half their band, our foresters proved their worth here, landing many a telling shot.
Their charge faltered and halted, they milled about, unsure of how to proceed.

We could not and would not relent, we had to press our advantage and loosed off another volley. The riders turned and fled, we continued attacking. By the time they were out of range, only two of them had escaped.

Quickly, we scooped up their weapons and handed them out to the villagers. Swift and emphatic had been our victory, so swift in fact that the reinforcements were nowhere to be seen!

When they did arrive, we realised that they were French? Mercenaries? We thought it best to avoid them and melted into the night, only the villagers' accounts of our actions remained.

To our camp we returned, a place we had now named as 'The Badger Set'.

​It had been a long day, but before retiring for the night, we discussed the day's many events.

We came to one conclusion: all three of these rulers were corrupt and unworthy.

- Sir Clugney was hatching some nefarious plot which involved a foreign power.
- Sir Conrad was a thug, plain and simple.
- Sir Roland was indifferent to the suffering around him.

We decided that all three of them 'needed dealing with and had to go'​!

On the next morning we awoke with invigorated vigour, driven by our new sense of purpose.

Little time was needed in choosing our next course of action: We had denied Sir Clugney sixteen thousand coins! Now was the time to twist that knife in the wound.

The journey to Wedgemore was quiet and uneventful.
When we arrived, we did not immediately enter; a host of soldiers had congregated in the town.
We saw Sir Clugney's tatty household guard, Sir Gaston Chatsworth's men and a company of mercenaries.
They were milling about listlessly, waiting for marching orders no doubt.

From the outskirts, Wedgemore seemed a prosperous town, well made cottages surrounded a pleasant town square. There was a nice looking inn too, 'The Looted Chapel'.
Since this was the seat of Clugney's power, we were thus unsurprised to see one of Osric's maypoles here.
Only the church was run down. The irony of the inn's name had not slipped by us.

Despite the town's apparent wealth, Wedgemore Castle was as dilapidated as the church or the uniforms on Sir Clugney's men. It had seen better days and was partway through a renovation, woodwork constructions dotted the curtain wall and inner keep, like oaken bandages covering over the castle's failings.

The castle itself was relatively small and surrounded by a dry moat.

After evaluating the situation, it did not seem dangerous to enter Wedgemore, we were far away from Hexham and Drumclog Moss.
Strolling in we noticed a significant number of lares, they were spread throughout the town, by the maypole, the inn and many of the houses. Seemingly identical to the one we had seen in Lady Margaret's chamber, only these were open and the two little statues were 'inside' the house.

We also noticed fewer townsfolk about than we would have expected for a town of this size, perhaps they were indoors?
Even so. this gathering of soldiers was source of much talk in the town and we easily learnt that Sir Clugney had ordered the 'southern road' from 'The Fork' barricaded, he was mustering forces for a counter attack. In two days hence, Sir Gaston would arrive from the south and they would be ready.

We headed into the inn, the innkeeper saw us enter and gave us a 'Roman greeting gesture'.
It was an unusual place: the walls were decorated with old, faded paintings that depicted ancient Roman gods and mythical creatures. The floor partially consisted of a Roman mosaic.
The innkeeper introduced himself as 'Sestus'. A Roman name he explained, there was a Roman villa here long ago he continued and the inn had Roman heritage. Parts of it had been built with masonry from the villa.

Like much of the town, the inn possessed a lare. Sestus saw us look at it, we gave him Osric's gesture and he responded in kind, smiling and satisfied.

Having scouted out both the town and castle. We now had a plan in mind and departed Wedgemore; in two days we would be back.

For most of these two days we made preparations and gathered our allies before returning to Wedgemore.
After we arrived, we waited.
Waited until Sir Gaston arrived with another column of troops. They joined the other soldiers here.
The next day, at mid morning amongst the blaring of trumpets and flying of flags, the soldiers marched north out of Wedgemore, towards The Fork and war with Conrad.

With the soldiers gone, the town seemed almost unnaturally still and silent.
Clugney Castle had been emptied of soldiers, we estimated that there were twelve soldiers left. Four on the gate, four on the walls and four on patrol.

It was time for the first part of our plan.
With our allies we numbered twelve. Eight of us disguised ourselves in Clugney's colours. The remaining four dressed as Conrad's men and their hands were loosely bound, giving the appearance of being much tighter.

Now in disguise, we approached the castle gate. There were four guards there and they converged on us.
Mopsa stepped forward and explained to the guards that we were returning with four 'prisoners' for the cells.
It was a convincing lie, the guards congratulated us on their capture and called for four other guards to escort us to the keep.

These guards led us to the grimy, dim cells within the keep and then asked us to hand custody of our prisoners over.
Pausing for a moment, we locked eyes with each other before pouncing on the guards. The ambush was successful and we subdued them before they had any opportunity to raise the alarm.

We were now free to search the keep unhindered, soon enough we found Sir Clugney's money chest. A sturdy box that was bolted to floor.
Opening it revealed a small, shallow layer of coins, only contained seven hundred coins at our estimate. Clugney must really have needed the money we denied him.

Seven hundred coins would not last him very long, that didn't stop us taking all of them though!

Now that we had Clugney's money, it was time to leave. There was no need for subtlety here, the twelve of us went up to the four guards at the gate and demanded they surrender. Outnumbered three-to-one, they wisely decided not to fight.
We then did the same with the remaining four guards on the walls.
Then there were no guards.

We had considered occupying the castle, the look on Clugney's face would have been exquisite, but it was not to be...
Our last act before leaving Wedgemore Castle was to set light to it, the stonework would survive with some damage, but all the wooden additions would be reduced to dust.

From the safety of the forest, we could hear the wood crackled as it burned and watched the flames lick the sky.

It was a start, we had weakened Clugney, but who knew the strength of his allies abroad?
Now we had to wait for the outcome of his battle with Conrad before planning our next step.

So ended the fifth outing of The Merry Badgers of Billige.

5th September 2020.

It's Saturday night and I'm logged on to Skype in my living room.

This means it's time for the next chapter Matakishi's in Merry Outlaws campaign.

Location: The Forest of Caucy.

Some time had passed since we gave half of Sidon Lister's money to the needy and it had been a quiet time.

Too quiet for our liking, we discussed matters and decided we would to head out to Billige. We had friends and allies there who might be able to give us news or pass on rumours.

Billige was bustling, there were twice as many people in the village than usual. The flow of carts to Drumclog Castle had dwindled somewhat and now they mostly carried food and supplies for the workers and builders.
The village folk grumbled and complained, the increase in traffic had driven up the prices of everything.

Randulf sought out the foresters he had befriended a few weeks ago and asked them what their thoughts on the situation were?
Initially, the foresters were unhappy; the intrusion of Sir Clugney's own foresters had made their activities all the more difficult. However demand for meat and food in general had increased, they had cut a deal with the village pie-maker to supply him with meat for his pies. The pies sold well and they all made a tidy profit from it.

Meanwhile, Calder had gone to speak with Alice the herbalist.
Ever astute; she wondered where all the money was coming from for all this construction? The materials and the labour?
Alice said that she had been to Wedgemore and the town didn't look particularly well off. Sir Clugney just didn't appear to have the wealth to make it all possible.

This information was intriguing, but not very helpful.

Next, we decided to pay Emlyn a visit and see how his recovery was progressing.

Eschewing the forest route, we took the road to Knavesmire, the journey was unevenful.

Soon enough we were back in the village, bleak and dismal as we remembered. There was something new here though - a maypole! Osric has been busy.
The only ray of light in Knavesmire was the inn, we hurried towards it.

The road than ran through Knavesmire was often travelled by people and many of them frequented the Three Stoats and a Weasel. Consequently it was always busy, today was no different.

It was chatty, noisy and crowded, looking around, nobody out of the ordinary was here, save for one man.

Sitting at a table was a young man, we did not recognise him but he bore Sir Conrad's livery, one of his squires.
Our curiosity was piqued, we decided to approach him. Mopsa offered him a drink and some conversation, he seemed suitably amenable.

He was plied him with more beer and pies, as always the food here was surprisingly palatable. Once he was sufficiently inebriated, we discovered his name was 'Falkirk'. Leaning in towards us and talking in what he considered hushed tones, he shared some information with us.

He said he was on a 'secret mission' for Sir Conrad.
We asked him the nature of this secret mission?
Falkirk confided that Lady Margaret was now pregnant and was suffering morning sickness, Falkirk went on to say that Sir Conrad had tasked him with delivering 'medicine' to her.

This was definitely an interesting turn of events! We asked Falkirk to Elaborate.

He told us that he had been instructed to go to the priory at 'Little Wenham', collect the medicine from 'Mother Benevolence' and the 'Sisters of Contentedness', then take it to his sister 'Krea'. She was a lady-in-waiting for Lady Margaret.
Krea would then 'surreptitiously' give the medicine to Lady Margaret in one of her drinks.

Mother Benevolence was a person I recognised. She was not known much as a healer, however she did reputedly supply lethal poisons to be applied to the nearly dead to 'help them on their way'!
It was fair to say that our suspicions were raised.

Next we asked Falkirk why this was done secretly?

Falkirk paused for a moment, clearly considering his words. He said that Lady Margaret was a little 'strange' and believed in the 'old ways'. Sir Conrad had insisted that it would be unlikely that she would want to take this medicine willingly, so it had to be given secretly.
Falkirk said she was too young and beautiful to be a witch obviously. He added that he didn't believe that Sir Roland knew any of this.

We then asked why would Sir Conrad become involved in this? Falkirk replied, "Sir Conrad is doing his Christian Duty,".
Finally Falkirk explained to us that he had first taken medicine to Lady Margaret a week ago, this was to be his second delivery.

By now Falkirk was well and truly drunk, loudly cheering Roland and Conrad to the other patrons whilst cursing Clugney. He seemed to be attracting quite a few sideways glances! Eventually he slumped face first on to the table with a thump, a few seconds later he began loudly snoring.

Putting his feet up, we moved him into a better sleeping position and while doing this, we slyly searched him, making sure no one else here noticed our actions.

We found a phial, it contained a curious looking liquid. We obviously needed someone with the appropriate knowledge to examine it.
The choice was obvious; Alice the herbalist.

We made a request of 'Leopold', the inn's proprietor and he provided us with a watertight container, into which we poured this liquid.The phial was re-filled with ordinary water and slipped back into snoring Falkirk's possession.

It was time to head back to Billige.
Upon leaving the inn, we heard a momentary whistling sound.
Faster than we could think, a volley of arrows struck us!
We were ambushed!

Peppered with arrows, we dived into cover, these were black feathered shafts. Crow Folk! How had they known we were here?

Cautiously, we peered out of cover and there they were: Across the road from the inn, skulking in the shadowy places between the small houses. and hiding behind corners were eight Crow Folk.

We returned fire from cover.
Except Randulf; who of course chose to run yelling across the street at them, pumping his fists and waving his mace as he did so. I think he considered it a greeting of sorts?

He laid into them fiercely and Calder landed arrows with uncanny accuracy. Mopsa and I managed to also lay into them with our bows.

We had sustained some injuries ourselves, but in the end the Crow Folk had been dealt with, save one who Randulf chased, tackled to the ground and took prisoner.

Searching their bodies, we found nothing of note on them but for some coins. Once we were done with them, we left them to the villagers who came and stripped them of all remaining possessions.
The bodies were taken away, no doubt to feed the pigs!

There was a prisoner to question now.
He told us little, he did admit that there were spies in Knavesmire - not a surprise to us, but he did not know who it was. He had been dispatched here directly from their camp in the forest.

we let him go with a good kick up the arse! As he fled into the forest, I shouted. "Tell the brothers that we're coming for them. And we're going to send them to hell!".

Now that it seemed safe, we set out for Billige and arrived without mishap.

After finding Alice, we handed the liquid over to her and she agreed to examine it. It did not take long, but we took the opportunity to recuperate a little. Alice came back and informed us that the liquid was a 'hemlock preparation' - poison.

Someone was trying to poison Lady Margaret.

Could it be Falkirk? He had the opportunity to switch the medicine for poison. He was also quite open about his role in this. The poisoner would not be so forthcoming. He seemed an unwitting accomplice.

In our minds there were two suspects.

Was it Sir Conrad? Had he asked Mother Benevolence to provide a poison to administer to Lady Margaret?
Or was it Mother Benevolence? Had Sir Conrad asked her to provide medicine and she instead switched it for poison?

Conjecture was pointless, we needed to investigate. The priory at Little Wenham would be our first call.
Before heading out, we took a diversion to our camp and collected the monk and nun outfits.

We set out for Little Wenham and decided to avoid the roads. We little desire to be ambushed twice in one day.

After leaving the southern half of The Forest of Caucy, we followed the track and forded the River Scarmore, once again passing Watt's burnt out cart.

From here we walked into the northern part of the forest, fairly certain that we would not be hindered by The Crow Folk were concentrated on the other side of the river. Our plan was to head westward and cross through the forest to arrive at Little Wenham. 

Despite my knowledge of the forest, we lost our way!
It turned out that there were few to no paths or trails that travelled the deepest, quietest and shady parts of the forest. There was however, an abundance of greenery and shrubs to hinder our passage, branches and bushes to snag our clothes and roots to trip our feet.

With no path to follow we stumbled and blundered clear of the forest. After we took stock of our bearings, we realised that we were north of the forest instead of west. We marched cross country towards the afternoon sun until the shadows lengthened, the day cooled and darkness was beginning to creep up behind us; it was nearly dark when we reached the road and Little Wenham.

It appeared to be a well-to-do and respectable town, houses were clustered round the church, a gibbet sat in the town square and there was of course, a priory.

It was very unlikely that we were known here, we could safely pass through.

Before approaching the priory, Calder, Mopsa and Randulf assumed their disguises. We decided to present ourselves as travellers in need of a place for the night.

The priory was a sturdy stone building with an equally sturdy heavy wooden door. A minute after knocking, an eye appeared at the small viewing panel, taking the measure of us.
A woman's voice asked us our business?

We explained that we were travellers in need of shelter for the night.
The eye turned to face me and asked who was I?
I explained that I was their guide. There was truth to that.

Our answers seemed satisfactory, the eye disappeared and the door opened. A nun was here and we were granted entry.

With a lowered voice she explained that we would be given an evening meal and taken to our rooms for the night. Inside the priory there was an air of quiet calmness, our footsteps sounded uncomfortably loud as we walked down the sparsely decorated stone corridors.

Before were taken to our meals and as politely as possible we requested a meeting with Mother Benevolence. The nun turned to us and revealed that she was who we were looking for.

We asked the Mother Benevolence if she had supplied medicine for Lady Margaret. She was quite taken aback and surprised, she did not know what we were talking about?

Perhaps this required a slightly different approach.
So we asked her if she any given any medicine to Sir Conrad's squire, Falkirk?

She had not, but she had given him poison!

This was surprising We asked Mother Benevolence to tell us more.

She told us that the poison was for some of Sir Conrad's hunting dogs that needed to be 'put down'.
Mother Benevolence went on to explain that this request had come directly from Sir Conrad when they both attended the Feast of Saint Beatrice last week.

We thanked Mother Benevolence and retired to our rooms.

It seemed that we possibly had an answer.
Sir Conrad was using Mother Benevolence to produce poison, using Falkirk to deliver it in the guise of medicine and using his sister to unwittingly administer it secretly.

It was an impressively elaborate plan, but what did he gain from the death of Lady Margaret?

We could not consider moving against Sir Conrad, not at least directly. He was too powerful and too influential.
Instead we decided to seek out Lady Margaret and warn her.

Morning came and streaks of dawn sunlight blazed through the windows, we woke to our cool stone rooms lit by a hues of gold.
We rose and dressed; simple as it was, it had been sometime since we had slept in accommodation such ​as this.

Morning in the priory was as equally subdued as evening, the sisters went about their chores with a quiet busyness and spoke in hushed voices.
After breakfast, we gave our thanks, took our leave and headed for Hexham.

The journey to Hexham required trekking east back across the countryside, following along the northern perimeter of The Forest of Caucy.
It was a quiet trip, there were no settlements close by and we did not encounter a single soul during our march.

Now that the flow of traffic through Hexham had lessened, the guards would be more vigilant.
As expected, we were stopped and questioned. Mopsa spoke for us and we were allowed entry.

Hexham Castle was open on the ground floor, but in order to reach Lady we had to get past the guards and go up to the first floor.

Mopsa was on top of things and persuaded the guards that we were here to see Lady Margaret on important business.

We climbed the stairs to her quarters once again. Outside her door was the same lady-in-waiting we encountered during our last visit.
She seemed confused when we explained that we were here to see Lady Margaret. It took some convincing to allow us to pass.

We entered Lady Margaret's chambers, she immediately recognised and greeted us, once the pleasantries were dealt with, she announced to us that she was 'with child'.

Discreetly, we informed Lady Margaret that we had uncovered a plot to poison her during her morning sickness.
She was aghast that we knew about her morning sickness.
​Pressing on, we explained that it seemed that Sir Conrad had concocted a scheme whereupon poison was delivered in the guise of medicine to one of her ladies-in-waiting who secretly and unwittingly administered it to her by Krea.
It transpired that Krea was the woman outside her door.

Lady Margaret thanked us for our help, she remarked that it was the second time we had provided her with assistance and she was grateful. She then provided us with a ring, with this ring we could gain access to her at any time.

Before leaving, there was one question we needed an answer for: Why had Sir Clugney been credited with the return of her wedding gown.

"Dear little Clugney," commented Lady Margaret. She went on to explain that she had seen him so unfairly bullied by Sir Conrad that she felt that sorry for him and took the opportunity claim that Clugney had returned the dress so that Sir Roland would reward him.

With that, we took our leave.

One question was answered and another took its place.
Why had Lady Margaret chosen to help Sir Clugney? Her reason did not sit well with us.

We were leaving Hexham Castle when we passed a knight with a small retinue entering, we could see their horses had been driven hard to get here.

The knight caught our eye, his livery was 'lozengy argent and gules', it was a livery I recognised as belonging to 'Sir Gilbert of Gascony', a French knight.

Gascony? The King's brother-in-law, 'de Montford' ruled in Gascony, rumour had it he was planning a revolt against The King. Why was a knight from Gascony here?
We also recalled that Lady Margaret called Gaston, was there a connection?

Cautiously we shadowed Sir Gilbert, he went to Lady Margaret's chamber as we expected.

Krea was still at the door, we could not hope to eavesdrop with her there. We knew that she might be easily distracted, so Randulf entertained her with a few coin tricks while the rest of pressed our ears against the door.

Voices were muffled, but we picked up some of a conversation.

Sir Gilbert stated that he had arrived with 'the money'.
Lady Margaret stated that he should take it straight to 'him' at Castle Wedgemore.
Sir Gilbert replied that he would meet up with his men who were behind him and take it to Wedgemore via the 'Drumclog Moss Road'.

With that, we left.
This raised more questions.
Who was 'him'? It seemed logical that it might be Sir Clugney, but why were they helping him even more? Was the money to pay for the rebuilding of Drumclog Castle? What did they hope to get out of it?
If it was someone else in Wedgmore, who could it be? Osric?

In truth none of the questions mattered, all that mattered was that it appeared that a sizeable amount of money that was coming down the Drumclog Moss Road, money that we meant to to take!

The road that Sir Gilbert would take would lead him through The Forest of Caucy, north of our camp. It was time to plan an ambush.

So ended the fourth adventure of The Merry Badgers of Billige.

31st August 2020

It's a bank holiday Monday and we're round Vicky's.

It's time for Matt's fortieth and concluding session of 50 Fathoms. 

Location: at port.

Several weeks had passed since the defeat of Torquemada and we had returned to a safe harbour. Now we were fully rested and our ships were in 'fighting condition'. 

We knew that we soon had to face the sea hags.

Then one night I had a strange dream that I half-remembered. Speaking with the crew I would soon discover that all of us had experienced a similar event.

Gathering what allies we had, we set sail for the centre of The Flotsam Sea, for The Devil's Cross, the heart of the vortex.

As we left harbour, we spoke with Califax and instructed him to contact our allies at Bluth's Crown and other places, to fly far and wide, to spread the word; now was the time to defeat the sea hags.

It took a month of sailing to reach the edge of The Flotsam Sea, when we arrived, we found a dozen ships waiting for us. Califax was among them.

After communicating with their captains, we learned that they too had recieved 'strange messages' telling them to come to The Flotsam Sea.
Califax admitted that he had nothing to do with any of this, the ships had already set sail before he reached any of them.

Our fleet contained representations of all the people of Ograpog, from Atani to Scurillions. This was a thing that affected everybody.

The fleet set sail for The Devil's Cross and the fate of Ograpog.

The closer we sailed, the rougher the seas became. We pushed on through the ever worsening storm and churning water until our eyes were met with a staggering sight.

Ahead, through the lashing rain and howling gale we could see that storm had intensified. It had intensified to such a degree that it had whipped up a visible tumultuous wall of wind and water. A wall so vast it stretched across the entire horizon.
This was no ordinary storm.

There was no turning back thought, so we sailed directly into this tempest.

In the moments it took to pass into this wall, it was like we had sailed into another world.

The sky had grown dim akin to the onset of twilight, the sun lost to sight behind the calamitous weather.
What had been rough going new became savage and brutal. Before we had to work to maintain our footing, now the crew was flung around like a child's toys. The only way to stay on deck was to tether yourself to the ship.

I lost sight of all the other ships as we lurched up and down on the rolling waves. We could only concentrate on navigating our way. Our ship was battered unyieldingly for three hours upon which time, the storm abruptly abated. 

Behind us was the furious storm wall, we had made it through. Ahead the sea was calmer, but it was still raining and the sky was still grey.

Looking around, I saw that other ships were also making it through, however in total two ships had been lost.

We sailed on.

Soon we reached the spot that we surmised was the location of the castle and The Devil's Cross

Despite the miserable skies above, the waters below were curiously clear and gleaming. Then we saw it, the castle was there, it was bathed in an eerie, almost sinister green glow.

Without any pomp or ceremony, from aboard The Delilah​ we took the barrel of Earth water and poured it into The Flotsam Sea.
"Mala Mallus, Maka Mallus, Mana Mallus," we named the sea hags.

There was an echoing voice aboard The Delilah. "You have called us from the depths, my sisters come," spoke the voice.
The voice had come from a young girl who was somehow aboard The Delilah, sickly looking and dressed in tattered, worn clothes, she looked nine years old. She was the girl from our dreams - 'The Maiden'. A moment later she vanished from the deck.

Whilst we were left pondering what had just occurred, a patch of the sea to the port side of our fleet began bubbling, then bubbling appeared to the starboard side. Finally it started to bubble to the aft.

From these three spots we watched as the sea seemed to explode! Vast amounts of seawater were sent skyward to come crashing down on the fleet. Then three vast shapes, the three sea hags, the three sisters emerged from the ocean.

With slick grey, rotting and hanging skin, inky black hair and watery eyes, rising to their full height they towered above us and even the ships.

They turned to us and mocked us with rasping, gravelly voices. Then they vowed to kill us all.

The battle had begun.

Win had the archmage's heart, she took it out of its jar and squeezed as heard as she could. It exploded in energy and gore, showering Win in slick.
All the elementalists felt an endless, indescribable energy flow through them, saturate them. An energy they could tap into to power their spells for the next seventeen minutes.

Two of the sea hags attacked with lightning and one with her giant fists. They targeted the ships, smashing hulls, crushing decks and splintering masts.

We returned fire with cannons.

Aboard The Herodica my crew blasted at them with our cannons and I attacked with my pistol.
Every shot I fired hit it's mark, but none of them could harm the sea hags. At least my crew had better luck, wounding one of the sea hags.

Aboard The Delilah, Shia ordered the ship closer to the enormous sea hags.
Shia wielded L'Ollonaise's sword, it was a powerful weapon and she found within herself strength she did not believe existed.
Shia attacked furiously with all her might, most of her blows had no effect, but some struck true. Between the cannon fire and her attacks, the first of the sea hags fell.

Baxter was also aboard The Delilah, he used her cannons to great effect and killed a second sea hag.

Meanwhile, Rufus had dived into the sea and approached a sea hag from underwater. From here, he could see how vast the sea hags were, their lower torso and legs stretching down into the depths. They were large enough to actually stand on the seabed fifty fathoms below.
Rufus wielded The Sword of Amemnus, the blade gave him great advantage against giant-sized enemies, which he put to good use.

Rufus was stabbing at the legs of the final sea hag. Up above, we concentrated cannon fire on the hag and Shia manoeuvred The Delilah close and attacked as well.

In the end, the final sea hag falls to Rufus' blows.

All the sea hags were dead, their giant forms had collapsed into the sea. It was over.

The stormy weather dissipated, the sea calmed and the rain died off.

The Maiden reappeared on The Delilah, her tattered clothes replaced with prison clothes, she was Mara Mallus, the fourth and youngest daughter of King Amemnus and one of the  sea hags' early victims in their grasp for power.
In the sky above, black clouds were dispersing and the sun seemed to shine down on Mara. She smiled, turning her face to the sun.
"Your quest is almost done," Mara told us. "I am sorry I had to pull you here from your own worlds, if you sail north and dream of home, you will return there. Now I must deal with my sisters," with that Mara stepped off the ship and sank into the depths.

Below us was the remains of King Amemnus' castle. We did what all good sea-folk would.. and looted the hell out of it. Sending down the Rufus and Rackham to scour the ruins for treasure before making off.

The day had been hard fought and won, we deserved a rest. Night would soon be upon us and the now gentle waves caught the last of the day's golden light. It was time to leave and we followed the setting sun.

Even though those of us from elsewhere had been given the option to return home, this was our home now, and who knew. There might be more adventures to have. Perhaps?