I kinda jumped a bit with regard to my BnB warbands, just claiming that the first one was poorly thought out. However, I thought I’d showcase the band as I did quite a bit of blurb/fluff/background for them. So here they are - The Gobbo’s Grotto Militia
The Gobbo’s Grotto, a small township that nestled in the sleepy woods north of the Ironstone Hills was an idyllic part of the kingdom, stoutly loyal to the King in a kind of wistful way. It’s inhabitants, so far away from the centre of influence, rarely bothered with the politics of the region and other than paying their taxes (as much as they had to anyway) and the statutory provision of a militia, had little interaction with the wider kingdom.
Fatefully, that would all change on midsummer’s eve (which would subsequently be called the “Night of Tears”). A missive from the local Lord of Catwick demanded troops from their vassals to rid the King’s favourite vineyards of bandits. A patrol from the Gobbo’s Grotto Militia and led by Sir Harold Harefield - a retired veteran of the Boarstown Flea Party uprisings, answered their liege’s call. After a fruitless week of chasing the “bandits” (in reality, starving peasants displaced by the expansion of the vineyards), the patrol returned home to find the township aflame. The small patrol wept as they rushed from building to building only to find the broken bodies of their families lying among the wreckage. Anxious that the raiders who had destroyed their towns were still in the vicinity, Ol’ Harry led the shattered militia to the ruin of his old homestead, which was slightly more defensible and there he sits, desperate for information that would lead to revealing the identity of the raiders, all the while blaming his liege lord for his part in the tragedy.
Sir Harold “Ol’ Harry” Harefield - Hare (leader)
Sir Harold fought in the “King’s Royal Jumpers”, a regiment of Laporidae formed during the insurrection dubbed the Boarstown Flea Party, where the merchants of the town rebelled against a “parasitic tax” on their goods.
Sgt Bridget “Stripes” Badgersdottir - Badger (2iC)
Stripes is a ferocious fighter, devastated by the loss of her Sett and her family has vowed to protect her militia comrades with her life.
Maester Tobias Toadley - Toad (mage)
Maester Tobias is an inscrutable fellow, no one knows where his brilliant mind is at, at any one time. However, his loyalty to ol’Harry and the small band of survivors is absolutely crystal clear.
Scout Kevin Kingston - Kingfisher (small bird)
Kevin is an expert scout, using his skills to track the enemy. Used to working alone , he none the less loves his comrades and will do anything to keep the band safe.
Pvt Regina “Bucky” Runnerford - Rabbit (archer)
Bucky was a “happy-go-lucky” type of rabbit. Full of the joys of spring she would be ever ready to provide jokes or play pranks on the more serious members of the militia. Since the Night of Tears she has become more dour and serious, and longs for the day when ol’Harry leads them to the raiders who slaughtered her loved ones.
The Gobbo's Grotto Militia fought a series of skirmishes and as is my wont I wrote up a series of background stories to provide some added fluff for the campaign, and i've added them below just for fun.
Ol’ Harry sat on the gentle slopes of the hill overlooking the ruins of his homestead, melancholy gaze taking in the small orchard where he used to lovingly tend the summer apples before harvest. Now his ragged warband gathered the scattered fruit into baskets that showed scorch marks across their wicker sides. He sighed heavily, the expelled air whistling through his large front teeth creating an undertone that matched his mood. He had taken his rookie militia into the streets of the nearby market town in order to meet an old contact who may have a lead on the perpetrators of the raid against the citizens of Gobbo’s Grotto. Instead he had stumbled across a rampaging band of scum and villainy posing as respectable critters of the King. Caught off guard his band had been pummelled mercilessly, with even the mighty badger -sgt Stripes being pulled down under the weight of numbers! Poor scout Kingston had been hurt badly, losing an eye in the fight.
Licking their wounds, they had made their way back toward the Grotto, dragging poor Stripes on a litter. Unfortunately they had been set on again, this time by a pack of rabid hounds, who had taken advantage of his reduced circumstances, and broken poor Kevin’s arm as well as mauling his poor fellows. Harry had managed to knock one of the brigands out of the fight however, and they had dragged the cur from the battlefield for enhanced interrogation. Sadly the mangy mutt was addled or witless and knew nothing. Enraged by his failure to secure any information, Harry had swung his sword and executed the Pug on the spot.
Lost in his maudlin vigil, he barely registered the approach of the Maester, the toad Tobias.
“I’m pleased to report that sgt Badgersdottir will be reporting for duty, sir!”he croaked.
Harry nodded absently, pleased that the giant fighter would be back in harness but still unable to break his sullen mood.
The mage went on, “poor scout Kingston, has mended his wing and is able to fly again, but will never be able to shoot his bow again, I’m afraid”.
Again, Harry nodded, his gloom deepening.
“Good news though sir Harold” the warty amphibian enthused, “the slaves you freed from the Catminster Corrals have thrown in their lot with you, and wish to aid us in our campaign”
Again Harry nodded, his ears perking up as he processed the news. There was no time to wallow, there was no rest for the weary warband, the restless dead urged him to find their killers and wreak their revenge…
“The name’s Fergus McFearson o’ the clan McFearson, and I’m in your debt….”
The thick Strath Clotan drawl pulled ol’Harry from his mental meanderings, and forced him to focus on the critter that slunk into the ransacked drawing room of the Hare’s ruined home. The tartan clad ferret then stood tall and proud, dressed in the looted plate armour and carrying the huge claymore of the pug prisoner Harry had executed. Stark contrast from the battered and dirty figure he’d cut when wearing the shackles of a slave not a fortnight ago, when the warband had freed him from the Catminster Corrals - a flesh market in that sinful town.
McFearson and the mysterious sparrow that had later introduced himself as Senor Sergio Santiago Sebastian Sanchez, had been on the brink of death at the hands of their cruel owner and only serious ministration from the Maester had brought them back to some semblance of health. Even so, for a week it had looked touch and go, and the toad mage had reported on more than one occasion that he would just end their lives swiftly and painlessly and ease them from their suffering. But now the former slaves had rallied and were in far better health than they had any right to expect and it pleased the veteran hare to see them recovered after all the recent sorrow.
“I hope ya dunnae mind, but we kitted us oot wit some gud gear from yoursens wee stash” McFearson stated, rather than asked.
It took Harry a minute to unravel the ferret’s broad accent and nodded his approval, especially seeing the easy swing of the massive sword in the critter’s paws. He’d seen the sparrow sporting poor Kevin’s bow earlier that day, the kingfisher scout was too battered to carry the weapon anymore, and Senor Sanchez was proving to be as good with the bow as his avian brother ever was.
Harry sighed and stuck out his paw to the highlander
“Welcome to the Gobbo’s Grotto Militia my friend, help us deliver our righteous vengeance and we’ll consider your debt paid in full.”
Sir Harry’s deep sigh seemed to emanate from the bottom of his tortured soul, so profoundly dark and troubled as it was. The clink of cold steel, a poignant counterpoint to his whistled exhalation, as the chain links of the heavy manacles that secured his forepaws drew taught. Fate was a fickle mistress, he mused darkly. Just a month ago he had executed the brainless hound his troops had captured in a random clash with a rival warband, and here he was languishing in another rivals stronghold. The same warband he hastened to add that had attacked the Grotto Militia weeks ago, while he was gathering intel from a contact regarding the mysterious group who had destroyed their homes. That thought battered around the inside of the veteran hare’s head, causing him to wonder if the two incidents were less random than had first appeared. Twice now the blasted “Remnants” had appeared from nowhere while his attention had been elsewhere and caused significant damage to the militia. This time while he had been fighting off some renegade royalists and almost single handedly putting the band to the sword.
Twice was more than a coincidence, this bordered on personal! He needed to get out of here, he needed to join up with his fellow militia members. But first he needed to use this time to mourn the death of the strange sparrow he had rescued from slavery, who had given his life to the cause. Then he would try to gather more intelligence about the “remnants”and their role in the sacking of the township of The Gobbo’s Grotto. Harry sighed once again and looked at the very solid manacles that constrained him, despite his vulnerability, as a captive he was in a position of access to the very people who may have the answers he so desperately needed.
Sadly the warband did not win a single game and ultimately Ol' Harry was captured in his pursuit of the truth of what happened on the Night of Tears. Despite a valiant rescue effort by the rest of the militia, he was later executed by his vicious captors and the warband fell apart.
That's it for now though
hope you enjoy
dGG
