When last we left our intrepid crew, they “won” their quest into the old chute complex by escaping with a single Hastus Coin. . .and all it cost them was the life of the shortbeard, Gloni. I was already chomping at the bit to have a go at another scenario, but Vaults of Zarn is a campaign expansion, so it’s time to do campaign stuff before anything else!
The relatively
modest gains from the Oh, Chute! Scenario meant that the party’s overall Wealth Rating didn’t change, so it was time to get to the scary part. . .seeing
whether Halreth would live or die from his injuries. This is a d66 roll, though
having another crew member tend to their injured fellow (and sacrificing the
chance to do anything in the pre-game Preparation Phase) lets them reroll the
result, if desired. I naturally assigned Lobrek to the task, and good thing I
did! While the initial roll was quite bad, the reroll actually resulted in
Halreth making a full recovery. Perfect!
---
“Uncle,”
Halreth said as he rose from his bedroll, feeling for all the world like he was
about vomit, “Gloni. . .I heard. . .”
“Gone,” was
all Lobrek said in reply. Halreth sighed as he laid his head back down and
closed his eyes. “He came to save me, you know,” Halreth said, “I had been laid
out by the statue, and—”
“And that fool
thought he would fare better. Now he’s just another dead shortbeard rotting in
the dark.”
“You don’t
mean that,” Halreth replied, “you have always been a tough fellow to know,
Uncle, but I’ve never known you to disdain courage.” Lobrek sighed as he
pressed a damp cloth to Halreth’s brow. “He was a brave lad, aye. Couldn’t
sharpen a blade if his life depended on it, and was thick as a tower wall most
days, but I can’t say he didn’t meet his end bravely. Seen folk twice his age
bawl and shite themselves when they knew the hour of their death was nigh. A
piss-poor ‘prentice, but a damn fine dwarf. He’ll be missed.”
Halreth knew
that this was about as much emotion as Lobrek was wont to show. More, even, for
his uncle seldom admitted that he would miss anyone’s company, let alone that
of a shortbeard.
“He will,” Halreth agreed, “he will.”
So, with Halreth
on the mend and Lobrek caring for him, what did the other dwarves get up to?
Well, I decided to send Sir Kair, Snorri and Beldar out to the Skag Pit for
drinks, as this is one of the locales crews can hang out in to pick up rumors
(the sort of rumors which lead to unlocking scenarios to play), but to no
avail. I guess they took their standing orders to have a couple of drinks a
little too seriously! Or maybe Beldar was distracted by a certain long-legged
lass. Who can say?
---
“Sir Kair,”
Beldar said as he fiddled with the rim of his now-drained mug, “a question.
That lass. . .you think she’s been looking at us?” Sir Kair, the most sober of
the three dwarves, shrugged. “A few times, perhaps. Why, is something awry?”
“No, no,”
Beldar replied, “I was just thinking. . .maybe she’s eager to speak to some
dwarves. You know, curious about us and all.” “Not likely,” Sir Kair mused, “I
assume she sees plenty of our kind in this place. More likely, she’s wondering
why three dwarves of different clans are sitting together. If I were her, I’d
suspect mischief.” Snorri snorted, barely conscious as he swept a hand across
the vast collection of empty tankards before him. “Mischief? Mischief?!” the
berserker rumbled, “not likely! Not after such a mighty display of dwarven
fortitude!” The normally silent Snorri was, Sir Kair and Beldar were swiftly
learning, a little more willing to speak after a few pints; the results were
far from erudite.
“Ah. . .maybe
I should go speak with her, then? Let her know we’re goodly lads, not some. .
.fools or somesuch,” Beldar declared. “If you wish,” Sir Kair replied, “though,
I do not think it necessary. After all, she’s just a serving girl, not some
matron seeking assurances or the like.”
“A-aye. But maybe. . .bah, forget I said anything.”
 |
| The boys having brews. Beldar's got his eye on the lass with the platter, but what he should be paying attention to is how closely the fellow with a feather in his hat has been listening to their conversation. |
Finally, Baldrick
decided to head out on his lonesome. Where did he head to, you may ask? Well,
even an old dwarf needs to take counsel from time to time, and when they do. .
.well, there’s only one appropriate course of action: find a dwarf that’s even
older than them!
Baldrick opted to
visit Drang, one of the oldest dwarves to have ever dwarfed. Visiting Drang is
a Preparation Phase activity that, like drinking in the Skag Pit, might yield
all sorts of new leads for your crew to pursue (sometimes not great ones, as
Drang’s memory isn’t what it used to be). Baldrick’s visit proved fruitful, as
the venerable dwarf told him a tale that unlocked the Brewery Bash
scenario. Guess that’s what we’ll be playing today!
---
“Venerable
Drang,” Baldrick said as he rapped on the door to the old dwarf’s quarters, ale
in hand. Baldrick was old enough that it was usually he who was approached by
another with drink in hand, but next to Drang he scarcely a shortbeard.
“Come in, come
in,” Drang replied through the door, and when Baldrick opened it he was met
with little more than a sidelong glance from the aged dwarf sitting in the
rocking chair by the hearth. “Venerable Drang,” Baldrick said, placing the ale
into the gnarled, waiting grip of the other dwarf, “I have come for. .
.advice.”
“As you should:
only fools believe counsel only is for those younger than they,” Drang replied,
sipping the ale, “what would you ask of me, young one?” Baldrick sat in the
empty chair beside Drang and gave his beard a few tentative strokes before
fishing his pipe out of his belt, taking a few moments to get it lit. Only then
did he speak. “I lead a crew, but I do not feel worthy of the honor. Yesterday
we did battle with the dead, and I hesitated when I ought to have acted. What
sort of leader quakes like a shortbeard?”
“Bah, as if
age is the salve for fear!” Drang rumbled, “’tis not, ‘tis not. That you bother
to think on your failures is what makes you a leader. Dwell not on them
overmuch, but do not forget them. Many a dwarf would gladly follow a leader who
reflects on their shortcomings, for they know that such a leader does not make
mistakes lightly.”
“Perhaps,”
Baldrick sighed as he exhaled a cloud of acrid smoke, “another matter, then. I
wish to hear one of your stories, Venerable Drang.” Drang chuckled, sipping his
ale once more before setting the mug on his prodigious belly and rocking gently
in his chair. “There was this one time, many years ago, when I visited a
brewery with a few companions. All gone to the ancestors now, of course. This
was, as you might have guessed, before Zarn fell, though I cannot remember if
it was before or after the statue of the mole was erected in the Upper Halls.
Bah, what a terrible idea that was! Moles, you see, are known to. . .”
Baldrick began
to rock gently in his own chair, fully intent on letting Drang prattle on as he
pleased. A younger dwarf might try to steer the old storyteller back on track,
but Baldrick did not wish to do so. After all, one never knew what might be
discovered in Drang’s tales if they just showed a little patience.
“. . .So I
said ‘‘aye, elf, I’ll be on my way, right after I round those pointy ears with
my axe!’ Of course, that’s when the she elf that was in hiding made herself
known. By my beard, that bow of hers must have claimed four or five of ours
before I cut her off at the knees. Literally. You ever met an elf, young one?”
“I have not
had the displeasure, Venerable Drang,” Baldrick replied, “please, tell me more.
. .”
With all the
pregame campaign stuff handled, it was time to dive into another scenario! As
aforementioned, the crew elected to try their hand at Brewery Bash, and this
time I had an NPC warband of Ostari Sellswords (manlings, pah!) to make things
interesting. Read on to see how it went!
 |
| The rascals, including "he with the feather'd hat." The other four members are waiting in the wings! |
Turn 1:
As tends to be
the case in most wargames, Turn 1 was mostly about jockeying for position and
setting up lines of attack for the coming turns. The crew split up, heading
both north and east, though Baldrick stopped in the room right by the entrance
stair to have a quick look around. While he passed his search test, the 2d6
roll to see what he had found said. . .nothing! The room was well and truly
empty.
Meanwhile, the
sellswords (having rolled for their disposition before the game and gotten
“aggressive”) began to make some big plays. To the north, the knight with a
spear poked Sir Kair, inflicting a point of damage on him and sending him
sprawling backwards. In the east room, the Ostari Ranger shouldered his bow and
had a quick look around, finding a Wodestone pouch (and promptly pocketing it).
You can imagine I was keen to kill this manling ASAP, that I might steal the
treasure for myself!
 |
| These goobers, advancing on the right wing of the map, found a Wodestone Pouch. That's mine, damn it! |
 |
| The north-west would soon become a fierce battle ground. Sir Kair is poked mightily by the human knight, losing a wound! |
A quiet turn, and
one which left the crew a little bloodied, but what was far more worrying was
the event for the turn, which spawned 5 little beasties in the monster entrance
closest to my crew’s starting position. These were the generic “swarm”
monsters, feeble but numerous, and I elected to use giant rats for them.
Nothing beats a good old dire rat!
---
Sir Kair held
his torch in front of him as he saw the manling emerge from the doorway, spear
in hand. “A knight?” the dwarf asked himself, the thought of doing battle with
another chivalrous warrior pleasing to him. Yet, before he could so much as
bellow a challenge, the manling crouched low, driving the point of his spear
towards Sir Kair. The dwarf howled, stumbling backwards as the point passed
between the plates about his arms and shoulders, puncturing the mail about his
armpit with stinging cruelty. “A skilled knight, it would seem,” Sir Kair
thoughts as he stumbled back, his opposite content to stand his ground, spear
levelled in anticipation that his dwarven opponent would recover and charge at
any moment.
 |
| The board at the end of Turn 1. Those rats are about to make things even more interesting. |
Turn 2:
As the remainder
of the human force barreled onto the table from their entrance stair, it became
readily apparent just how heavily outnumbered the crew was. Aggressively, they
began to head for the two objective rooms the dwarves were contesting. The
Paymaster, the leader of the manling crew, led a pair of his sellswords into
the northern room, supporting the skillful knight who had fended Sir Kair off
earlier. Because of the order of the activations (which are more random for NPC
warbands), it turned out that the Paymaster was dangerously close to the door
where the rats would enter from. Perhaps he was just a “lead from the front”
type of guy!
 |
| More sellswords hit the table! |
Speaking of Sir Kair, the Knight of the Crown found himself face-to-face with a torch and mace armed sellsword, though thanks to his special activation he was able to get on his feet before the fight. Meanwhile, Snorri charged the sellsword Paymaster, though I could already see that the rats would end this combat before Snorri could swing (monsters effectively break apart combats, as crews will prefer to fight beasties over one another). The Knight went for another poke (it missed), and I was soon learning that maybe having a dwarf with a reach weapon in my own crew could be worthwhile. . .
As expected, the
rats ended up peeling the Paymaster away from Snorri’s clutches, though I
didn’t mind! After all, they managed to savage the manling, leaving him on
death’s door. Sir Kair also made a fine show of things, battering the sellsword
who had come to engage him while he was down (the fool!) and leaving him nearly
dead!
 |
| By the end of the turn, this room was a mess. You can't quite see the knight, who is just on the other side of the pillar, poking at Snorri with his spear. |
In the eastern room, things were looking a little better. Beldar heavily wounded the Ranger with the Wodestone pouch (who only survived thanks to his hardcoat armor: lucky!), while his brother (and glorious leader) brought his greataxe down on the lantern-toting sellsword before him, slaying the manling with a critical blow! The only real setback was Halreth’s embarrassing defeat at the hand of a Sniffer (a dog, and not a fighting one: I think it has the worst statblock in the game, period). While our stout hero’s shield prevented the little ankle-biter from causing any damage, it was amusing to see a hale and hearty guy being chased through the doorway by a dog who was, if we’re being generous, a glorified rat.
 |
| The dwarves are holding their own on the right side of the map. |
The event card
spawned two more rats in the other monster closet. Yay.
In short: a
bloody turn, and one which left me feeling pretty good. I was swiftly coming to
realize that men are far, far less durable than dwarves. While the stout folk
can take a minor hit with only passing consequences, humans (who only have
resilience 1 by default) are put in the “wounded” state after taking only a
single point of damage!
---
“This one’s
still alive, brother! Tough for a manling!” Beldar taunted as he sent the thin
man before him sprawling back, his ace having opened a wound in the archer’s
side. Baldrick, distracted by the sellword wildly swinging his mace, did not
reply at first. No, first he turned aside a feeble blow with the haft of his
axe, before bringing the blade down in an arc that cleft the fellow from
shoulder to belly, the man’s armor offering no protection from Baldrick’s heavy
axe. “This one is not,” Baldrick declared, eyeing the doorway to his left,
where he heard more manlings scuttling about.
“Hah! Look at
the boy: he’s a true foe to fight, he does!” Beldar joked as Halreth beat a
hasty retreat from a tiny dog which was all bark and no bite. “Careful,
manling: it’s teeth look awfully sharp!”
 | ||
Truly, Halreth fought a most dire foe on that day.
|
Turn 3:
While the
previous turn had gone relatively well, the manlings proved they had some fight
left in them! The ranger who was lingering in the room by his own interest
lined up a shot and dealt a point of damage to Baldrick, his arrow finding a
gap in the older dwarf’s armor. Lobrek, who had been looking for a clear shot
in the tight confines of the brewery, tried to put some lead into the
still-dazed sellsword Paymaster, but missed, the round slapping the wall behind
the manling. Snorri followed this up by once more charging the wounded
Paymaster, but I elected to use a bit of intuition (required in solo play) and
have the knight with spear make use of his bodyguard rule to swap places with
his boss, keeping the Paymaster out of a combat he would likely lose. Of
course, I realized once more that the rats would almost certainly break up this
combat! When they did, both Snorri and the human knight killed a rat: one
imagines they were side-eyeing one another the whole while, perhaps impressed
their opposite was holding their own against ROUS threats while thinking “when
we’re through with these, our duel will be legendary.”
 |
| Snorri and the knight would never move again, being stuck on rat duty. Sir Kair managed to slap his opponent around, but failed to secure the kill. This would have. . .consequences. |
Sir Kair engaged
the unwounded sellsword who had stepped forward to protect his companion, eager
to see if he couldn’t hammer another manling into the dirt once it came time to
chuck some combat dice. Indeed, he did just that, though once again didn’t finish
the job, meaning that three of the four men in the north room were wounded.
In the east room,
Beldar sought to engage the wounded man before him, but was intercepted by a
fresh warrior wielding a bastard sword, who managed to land a hit on the
Ironthane in the ensuing combat. The knight and Baldrick squared off, but once
again I anticipated that the rats would drag the knight off into a separate
combat, leaving Baldrick to do nothing but grumble as he watched rodents
steal his thunder. At least Halreth finally managed to kick the ankle-high
threat he was facing, though I didn’t exactly feel thrilled about one of my
warriors wasting a turn fighting a damn lap dog.
 |
| A rough turn on the right. Beldar lost to a sellsword, and Baldrick sat there and watched rats fighting a knight. At least the knight landed a kill! |
Oh yeah, the
event phase spawned more rats in the already rat-filled hallway. Looks like
Snorri and the human knight would be fighting a few more waves of the buggers
before they could even begin to consider having a proper scuffle. . .
---
“Cretins! You
dare stand before a Buldahr and his foe? Come then, you furry bastards, come
and try your luck!” Snorri bellowed as his hammer flattened a dog-sized rat
with a single blow. “Indeed,” the manling knight near the dwarf said as he
skewered another of the creatures, kicking it off the end of his spear with a
sabaton-clad foot “leave us to our fight!”
“Don’t you dare
tire yourself out, manling! I won’t have a rat take my glory!” Snorri replied, “when
these beasties are through, I’m hammering that armor of yours into a spike to
plant your head on!”
“Not likely!”
the knight replied, “but you are welcome to try, dwarf!”
Snorri simply
hoped Crumb wasn’t peering out at the carnage unfolding outside the satchel he
customarily hid away in when it was time for battle. After all, perhaps these
rats were some distant relation?
Not likely.
Crumb was a good rodent, not some overgrown, gnashing thing. Snorri made a
mental note to grab another hunk of cheese for his friend when this was all
over. Good rodents deserved a little bit of cheese, after all.
 |
| Redemption, I guess? Poor little fellah. |
Turn 4:
Lobrek started
things off by moving into the north room (just in case) and reloading his
firelock (which required a test, that he passed, because he was moving and
reloading in tandem). Snorri and the knight once more resigned themselves to
fighting rats, while the Paymaster finally rose to his feet to survey the
situation. Embarrassingly, Sir Kair not only lost to the pair of bloodied
sellswords before him, but was wounded again (properly entering the wounded state
this time) by the manlings. The horror!
 |
| How things ended up. I didn't have a picture of just the top-left fighting. . .oops. |
In the eastern
room, Haldreth engaged the sword-wielding manling alongside the still-prone
Beldar, hoping to even the odds. This proved to be the right call, as the
dynamic duo of Ironthane and young man managed to put the sellsword down with a
flurry of blows! Meanwhile, the ranger in the eastern room killed a rat,
ensuring that Baldrick and the other human knight would be able to fight
unhindered by the machinations of pesky rodents. Great axe met great axe as the
two squared off, and when the dust settled the human knight was lying in a pool
of his own blood, having been handily defeated by Baldrick. After last game’s
performance, it seemed like the crew’s leader was eager to prove why he’s in
the one in charge!
 |
| Now THAT'S a redemption arc. |
Oh yeah, the
other ranger (who didn’t have a clear shot into the eastern room) had moved to
take a shot at Sir Kair before the disastrous combat unfolded, but he shot
wide.
The event for the
turn? Nothing that impacted the game (I believe the sellswords drew “get a
bonus if you search next turn,” a bit of a joke considering how knee-deep in
fighting they now were).
Summary: the east
flank looked good, and the north remained a mess. The sellswords were
dangerously close to being forced to make Turn Back tests, as they were missing
4/10 members. Two more casualties, and they might just run for the hills! Both
sides still had light sources active.
---
“Beldar!”
Halreth shouted as he stepped over the twitching canine at his feet, “get up,
Beldar!” “I’m not bloody dead yet!” the Ironthane growled, but as he went to
stand he saw the moment of his doom approaching. A blade, the sellsword’s
two-handed sword, was about to split his skull.
Or so he
thought. The song of steel meeting steel rang out in the stone chamber, and
when Beldar opened his eyes he saw another sword, Halreth’s, interposed between
his head and the other manling’s weapon. Before the two could separate, Beldar
swung his axe forward, its edge biting deeply into the sellsword’s thigh.
Shrieking, the man fumbled backwards, only to be knocked unconscious when the
rim of Halreth’s shield collided with his jaw, sending teeth and man alike
clattering to the floor.
“Fine work,
lad!” Beldar chuckled as he rose to his feet, “I had that one handled, but I
was testing you and all. Naturally.”
“That one’s next,” Halreth said, ignoring the jest as he pointed his sword at the wounded archer Beldar had fought a few moments earlier, now leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the chamber. “That he is,” Beldar said with a wicked smile, “let’s see whether he fares any better against the two of us, eh?”
 |
| Teamwork did, in fact, make the dream work. Nice going, lads! |
Turn 5:
Let’s mix things
up and start with the eastern flank. Baldrick and Haldreth engaged the wounded
Ranger (still clutching his wodestone pouch), and embarrassingly failed to
overcome a single wounded man. Luckily Haldreth’s shield prevented him
from taking any damage, but this was all a little unfortunate, as I was really
hoping to kill the fool and take his Wodestone. A manling and his ill-gotten
gains will not be easily parted, apparently.
 |
| Team work sometimes makes the dream work. This guy was not giving up his loot without a fight! |
Baldrick, eager
to continue his killing spree, charged into the room where the other, unwounded
ranger was taking pot shots, his axe claiming another victim. I was quite
pleased to see the crew’s leader on the warpath: all of your failings have been
forgiven, bud!
 |
| Baldrick's rampage continues. . . |
Speaking of
forgiveness, Lobrek earned some by taking his second shot of the game, which
punched through the breastplate of the sellsword Paymaster and took him out of
action. This was a huge development, as it not only broke the morale of the
sellswords, but also meant that they would automatically fail their Turn Back
test at the end of the round. After all, no sellsword is going to stick around
when the guy who writes their cheques is quite possibly dead!
 |
| That's some fine shootin', Lobrek! |
Something,
something, Snorri and the knight keep killing rats. They’d have been there for
a few turns yet, if the game wasn’t about to end due to the flagging morale of
the manlings.
Ah, but what
looked like a clear victory became tainted in the final exchange of the game.
Stepping forward, pick in hand, one of the wounded sellswords squared off with
Sir Kair, who was also looking worse for wear. The dice were rolled, the gasps
were gasped, and when all was said and done Sir Kair was the one who tasted
bitter defeat. While the sellswords beat a hasty retreat, their warband
devastated, they could at least rest assured that they managed to bring down
one of the dwarves before turning tail and fleeing into the darkness.
 |
| "Remind yourself that overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer." Thanks, Darkest Dungeon guy! |
Quite literally,
because both of the remaining torches on the board went out just as the game
was ending, a little bit of cinematic flair to end a great Brewery Bash.
---
“C’mon, boys,
up and at them!” the manling said, the feather in his hat bobbing as he watched
his underlings fight for their lives against dwarf and giant rat both. “If we
can—” the manling continued, but before he could finish his sentence the bark
of Lobrek’s firelock cut him off. The manling, to his credit, did not scream:
he merely looked once at the hole in his breastplate, mouthed a few silent
words, and then collapsed.
“Reckon he’s
the one in charge!” Lobrek shouted to Sir Kair and Snorri, “if the fancy hat’s
any indication.”
“Flee,
manlings!” Sir Kair shouted, barely conscious and bleeding from numerous
wounds, “or would you try to find hope in this hopeless battle?” Most of the
remaining men in the room seemed receptive to Sir Kair’s command, but one
manling—a broad-shouldered fellow in old, rusted mail—stepped forth, war pick
in hand. “I respect your valor,” Sir Kair said with a nod, “and I shall not
deny you this fight.”
Lobrek rolled
his eyes as Sir Kair made his every-so-noble declaration, but the engineer’s
annoyance died the second the two began to fight. “He’s too hurt,” Lobrek
thought, “the manling’s looking worse for wear, but Sir Kair’s barely holdin’
that hammer of his.” A couple of sloppy, weak swings left the human with the
opening he needed to drive his pick into Sir Kair’s side, the metal of the
dwarven knight’s breastplate squealing as it was parted.
“Shite,” Lobrek muttered as he saw the man wrench his weapon free before beating a hasty retreat back from whence he and his fellows had come, “Snorri, leave the bloody rats: Kair’s down!”
Conclusion:
So, once more the
crew managed to find victory, though this one felt a little more earned than
last time. Yes, the manlings escaped with the wodestone pouch, and yes, a dwarf
was done, but on the whole it felt like they really won this scrap.
After the battle, a couple of members gained some XP (with the “honorary XP”
point going to Baldrick, because hot damn that dwarf was a machine this
scenario!), and I got to add the fruits of a Windfall to the crew’s treasure.
This is basically an extra reward some scenarios (including Brewery Bash) give
to the winning crew, though I only got a modest “Small Treasure” instead of a
proper Wealth Track increase due to some rotten luck.
So, where do
things stand at the end of Campaign Turn 2? Well, we’ve got a Hastus Coin and a
Small Treasure in the inventory, a few XP I might want to spend in the coming
turns, and Sir Kair fighting for his life. I love that we won’t learn whether
he’ll live or die until the next campaign turn, and the anticipation? It’s
already killing me.
Until next time,
folks.
“Brother,
you’re covered in blood,” Beldar said as he pulled a small chest out from
behind an ancient still that had long since surrendered to verdigris, “went a
bit harsh on the manlings today, eh?”
Baldrick
merely grunted as he poked at the flesh wound the archer had given him, though
he couldn’t help but smirk when he repaid the favor. With his axe. And
interest.
“By my beard,
it cannot be!” Beldar said as he opened the chest after shearing
the old lock off with his axe. “Hm?” Baldrick asked, trying to peer over the
shoulder of his crouched brother. “A cup fit for kings!” Beldar beamed, turning
around to reveal a silver mug which was, for lack of a better word, crumpled.
Indeed, the whole of the chest was filled with drinking vessels in various
states of disrepair, ranging from “sad” to “outright pathetic.” “They’re still
silver, looks like,” Baldrick replied dryly, “they can be melted down and sold.
It’s not a bad haul.”
“Melted down?
But what then will I present to our glorious ancestors when I join them in the
feasting halls? Do you mean to say we’ll have to drink from vessels that are,
dare I say it, not heaps of shite?” Beldar joked, evidently still pleased they
had found some treasure for their trouble, at least.
“Venerable
Drang perhaps oversold the splendor of this place, but it’s still not a bad
haul,” Baldrick repeated.
Before either
dwarf could speak again, Halreth entered the room holding the small candle he’d
managed to salvage off one of the dead manlings, its flame meager and fragile.
“Snorri and Uncle said Sir Kair collapsed again. We need to leave, lest he
bleed to death in this place.”
“Aye,” Baldrick agreed, “pack it all up, brother: we’ve wounded to tend to.”
---
 |
| With the lights out and the loot taken, it's time to fall back. . . |
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