The Leopard Campaign: Scenario Two – The Man in the Wagon

A Spy’s Warning

It all began with a note smuggled out of besieged Plymouth.

The message was brief but alarming. An important Royalist prisoner, Sir Edmund Vine, was to be moved from the city under heavy guard before being transported to London for interrogation. Whatever information Vine possessed, the Parliamentarians clearly considered it valuable. The note also revealed the prisoner’s route and identified the ideal ambush site—a small market square through which the wagon would pass before descending the narrow road leading to the East Gate.

The Leopard’s orders were straightforward: rescue Sir Edmund before he disappeared into Parliament’s prison system.

(For the Leopard earlier adventures - start here.)

Wood Block Cutting of the Lepoard dating from the 1650s

The Morning of 17 March 1643

Before dawn, while most of Plymouth still slept, the Leopard and his companions slipped into position amongst the alleys and buildings bordering the square. In the distance, they could already hear the rumble of wagon wheels and the steady tramp of marching feet.

The trap was set.

Springing the Ambush

As the wagon turned into the square, the Royalists melted deeper into the shadows. Surprise would be their greatest weapon.
The vehicle concealed its precious cargo beneath heavy canvas, but the escort was formidable enough. A burly sergeant led a dozen Plymouth militiamen through the early morning gloom. Once the wagon reached the market cross at the centre of the square, the Leopard struck. Musket shots echoed between the buildings, scattering several of the militia and leaving only the hard-bitten veterans to protect their prisoner. The ambush had worked. For a brief moment, the odds seemed firmly in the Royalists’ favour.
The Leopard and his men surged forward before the escort could recover.

Edgar and Billy - The Other Mission

Not everyone was focused on the rescue. Edgar and young Billy had been tasked with locating a series of intelligence caches left by Royalist agents within the city. Unfortunately, those dead drops lay dangerously close to the fighting. Worse still, shots suddenly rang out from upper windows overlooking the square.

Parliamentarian snipers.

The city authorities had anticipated just such an attack. Or perhaps someone had betrayed them.

Chaos in the Square

Isaac—rarely far from a bottle and never far from trouble—attempted to shoot the wagon driver. As the company’s best marksman, success should have been assured. Instead, the shot flew harmlessly wide.
Whether the fault lay with the musket, the weather, or the previous night’s ale remains a matter of debate. Giving up with the musket, Issac abandoned subtlety, gripping his musket like a club and charging towards the melee. He managed only a few strides before slipping spectacularly on the wet cobbles and crashing to the ground.
The square itself soon became an unexpected ally of the Royalists. One of the wagon wheels struck an uneven cobblestone, jolting the vehicle violently and forcing the driver to halt while he regained control.

The Leopard wasted no time.

His men closed in from all sides, surrounding the stalled wagon before the escort could react.
Unfortunately, the remaining defenders proved far tougher than expected.

I am running a few minutes late; my previous meeting is running over.

At their centre stood Sergeant Hopgood.

A giant of a man and a former blacksmith, Hopgood wielded his halberd with frightening skill. Again and again, he held back both the Leopard and Maarten, his sweeping blows forcing them away from the wagon. Meanwhile, Edgar and Billy searched desperately for the hidden intelligence caches while dodging musket balls fired from the surrounding buildings.

A Runaway Wagon

Eventually, the driver regained control and urged the wagon forward once more. Suddenly. James and Isaac found themselves directly in its path. James threw himself clear at the last moment and even managed to grab briefly at the wagon’s side. Isaac was less fortunate. Still suffering from the effects of the previous evening’s drinking, he reacted too slowly and was knocked sprawling by the vehicle. The unfortunate marksman was left unconscious in the mud.

Recognising the danger, Maarten broke away from his duel with Hopgood and launched himself at the moving wagon. Somehow, he managed to cling to the side before disappearing beneath the canvas cover.

Inside, a desperate struggle erupted.

At the same moment, James seized his opportunity. As the wagon slowed, he hurled himself at the driver, dragging him from his seat. The driver’s whip caught James across the face, but a well-placed thrust forced the man from the reins.
The wagon ground to a halt once more.

The Fighting around the Wagon as it stalls.

The Tide Turns

As the fighting intensified, a sea mist rolled in from Plymouth Sound. Visibility dropped dramatically, reducing friend and foe alike to shadowy figures moving through the fog. The snipers abandoned their positions and moved closer to the wagon, sensing that the battle was reaching its climax.

Yet through it all, Sergeant Hopgood remained immovable.

Time after time, he blocked the Leopard’s advance, swinging his halberd with relentless determination. Although neither man could gain a decisive advantage, Hopgood’s stubborn defence prevented the Leopard from joining the struggle around the wagon. Then faithful Edgar intervened. Creeping through the confusion, he stepped quietly behind the giant sergeant and struck him from behind.

It was not heroic. It was not gentlemanly. It was, however, extremely effective. Hopgood collapsed.

Escape from Plymouth

Rain now began to pour from the darkening skies, turning the square into a treacherous mire.
Inside the wagon, Maarten finally succeeded in freeing Sir Edmund Vane. Escorted by Billy—who had also recovered another intelligence package from a Royalist agent—the rescued prisoner was hurried into the maze of alleys beyond the square.

Church bells began to ring. Shouts echoed through the streets. The alarm had been raised.

But by then, the Leopard and his companions were already disappearing into the narrow lanes, heading towards a safe house and the secret tunnel beyond.
Only Edgar was left behind.

The Angel and the Drunk

Somehow, Edgar evaded capture and eventually staggered into Lord Hopton’s camp. Demanding a drink to ease his wounds, he claimed that a dark-haired angel had rescued him from certain capture before he awoke aboard a cart bound for Saltash.
Whether anyone believed him is another matter entirely.

Post-Game Thoughts

This proved to be an excellent scenario, with momentum swinging repeatedly between the Royalists and the Plymouth militia. At one stage, I feared I had made the rescue too easy for the Leopard. Then Sergeant Hopgood appeared and almost single-handedly turned the battle in Parliament’s favour. He was one of those wonderful emergent characters that occasionally appear in solo gaming—an NPC who unexpectedly develops a personality simply through their actions on the tabletop.
Hopgood will almost certainly make another appearance in the campaign.
Once the wagon had been stopped for the second time, however, the initiative shifted decisively towards the Royalists. From that point, the rescue became increasingly difficult for the defenders to prevent.
The one change I intend to make when running the scenario again is to introduce militia reinforcements immediately after Sir Edmund is freed. That should add a greater sense of urgency to the escape phase and create a more dramatic finish.

Campaign Reflections

The game itself was a success, but the wider campaign structure remains a work in progress.
The Snakes and Ladders campaign map has not performed as well as I had hoped. Despite additional mechanics and dice rolls, it still produces a largely linear sequence of scenarios.
Likewise, while the scenario generator consistently creates interesting ideas, it still requires considerable development before each game and struggles to create a strong narrative connection between scenarios.
These elements will need some revision before the campaign continues.
For now, however, the Leopard has secured Sir Edmund Vane and the intelligence he carries.
The question is what secrets the rescued agent knows—and where those secrets will lead our adventurers next.

Chronicles of Midgard - A Review

A declaration of interest first. I was one of the playtesters for Chronicles of Midgard, and my Mystic Britain campaign — which you may have followed in earlier posts — was run using early drafts of the rules. With that caveat stated, I hope what follows reads as an honest assessment rather than advocacy.

Midgard Heroic Battles arrived in November 2023 and swiftly built a devoted following. See my review here. Since then, Midgard has won the Best New Wargames Rules Award 2024 as voted for by readers of Wargames Illustrated.  The newly published Chronicles of Midgard is the first supplement, and its central ambition is to take those fast, heroic battles and give them narrative weight and long-term consequence.

Click the image to Link to Chronicle of Midgard.

What the supplement contains

Chronicles of Midgard adds rules for fast-moving narrative campaigns and fifteen new dynamic scenarios, with a simple map-based campaign system focused on heroic deeds as two Courts of Heroes compete for renown and victory across a historical, legendary, or fantasy setting of your choice. Just under half the book is devoted to those scenarios, and they are arguably worth the price of the supplement on their own. Covering everything from open-field engagements to ambushes, river crossings, broken-terrain fights, and assaults on breached fortress walls, they offer genuine tactical variety. Combined with the five scenarios in the core rules, players now have a library of twenty from which every campaign will draw a different sequence. I would also suggest they transport cleanly to other medieval skirmish systems — something I intend to explore, though I have not yet made that transition.

The campaign system itself is streamlined by design. The map is played on a 3×7 offset grid — which, incidentally, could equally function as hexes for those who prefer a nodal campaign structure — with each square labelled as one of four terrain types: Open, River, Broken, or Fortress. These classifications feed directly into scenario generation via a d6 roll. Logistics, weather, and political fortune are not tracked turn by turn; instead, they arrive in a single pre-battle throw on the “Wheel of Fate Turns” random event table. This is an elegant solution. The Wheel of Fate brings local colour and keeps the campaign unpredictable without burying the player in administrative overhead.

Hero progression is the one element of ongoing record-keeping. At the outset, a Court of Heroes is established — typically a major hero, a couple of minor heroes, and several champions — and reputation points earned in battle are tracked as they grow. In my own games, I did not find this burdensome, and it provides precisely the kind of continuity that makes a campaign feel like more than a series of unconnected battles. Unit experience is not tracked, which keeps the bookkeeping to a minimum. After each battle, the margin of victory determines whether the winner may pursue, take plunder, or must allow a fighting retreat — most campaigns will involve between five and eight games in total.

From Athelney to Ethandun

The ready-to-play historical campaign included in the book pits King Alfred of Wessex against the Vikings in the spring of 878 AD. It supplies a campaign map, a full Court of Heroes for both sides, detailed muster rolls, and the specific army traits and unit restrictions that give each force its historical character. This latter element is particularly well handled: the campaign’s flavour is shaped not just by scenario and terrain but by limiting which traits particular units can take, grounding the game in the period without sacrificing the sandbox flexibility that makes Midgard worth playing. The campaign serves as both a standalone experience and a demonstration of how the system’s tools can be applied in any setting.

The Iron Valley

Released simultaneously as a standalone PDF, The Iron Valley offers a fantasy 'Goblet-Sized' Campaign pitting the Dwarves of the Iron Valley against an invading Orc warband under Azgoth Hornchewer. The 35-page pack contains background, maps, full Muster Rolls for Orcs and Dwarves, and five new scenarios playable as either a linear or map-based campaign. It also introduces a new trait, adding another tool for differentiating armies and giving particular forces their own identity. The format clearly signals how the planned series of Goblet-Sized Campaigns — very much akin to the Pint-Sized Campaigns produced for Chain of Command — will work going forward, with Chronicles as the manual underpinning each one.

What I would like to see added

No system is without its gaps, and a few additions would strengthen future supplements or editions. A sense of time passing matters to those of us who write campaign chronicles or dispatches. I have solved this simply by treating each map move as a month; most pre-modern campaigns ran from March to September, which tallies naturally with the suggested campaign length of five to eight battles. A formal timescale would be welcome.
I would also like to see additional terrain types. A coastal terrain category — with its own scenario table — would open up sea raiders, amphibious landings, and the kind of littoral warfare that defines so much of the early medieval world. A magical terrain type would serve high fantasy settings well. Both feel like natural extensions of what is already here.

What’s coming

The Goblet-Sized Campaign pipeline is already moving. James Morris is working on a Second Barons' War campaign covering the battles of Lewes (1264) and Evesham (1265) — two engagements that are well-suited to the Midgard format. Lewes in particular, fought over broken, hilly ground south of the town, rewards exactly the kind of terrain-driven scenario generation that Chronicles handles well, while Evesham — de Montfort trapped in a river loop, his outnumbered force destroyed in a near-encirclement — offers a ready-made scenario with its own special conditions baked in. It will be a campaign with high dramatic stakes and should demonstrate the system’s range beyond the Dark Age settings that have dominated so far.
Looking further ahead, Midgard has been selected as the ruleset for the extraordinary Hastings 960 project, an ambition to refight the Battle of Hastings at a 1:1 figure ratio, targeting over 16,000 fifteen-millimetre paper miniatures on the table for October 2026. It is a remarkable vote of confidence in the rules’ scalability, and it underscores how quickly Midgard has moved from a new release to a community institution.

Verdict

The core question for any campaign supplement is whether it adds narrative weight without adding administrative drag. Chronicles of Midgard manages that balance well. The Wheel of Fate keeps things unpredictable; hero progression gives players something to care about between battles; the scenario library ensures no two campaigns feel alike. For the solo wargamer in particular, the minimal bookkeeping is a genuine virtue — one of the reasons my own Mystic Britain campaign progressed as far as it did.
If you already play Midgard, this is a straightforward purchase. If you have been on the fence about the core rules, it is worth noting that the game now has not just an active and growing community but a substantial supplement infrastructure — historical campaigns, fantasy campaigns, a promised series of further Goblet-Sized releases — that suggests Morris and Reisswitz Press are committed to the long term.
Chronicles of Midgard is an essential addition to the shelf.

Chronicles of Midgard is available from Reisswitz Press in hardcopy (£24) and PDF (£16). The Iron Valley Goblet-Sized Campaign is PDF-only. The Too Fat Lardies preview video is available on their Patreon page.

Diomedes and the Lost Book of Hesiod: A Warrior of Athena Battle Report

Diomedes was one of the many bastard sons of Zeus and, like most of his half-siblings, earned the enduring hatred of Hera, the king of the gods’ far-from-forgiving wife. Until recently, the only Diomedes known to the modern world was the King of Argos, famed for his deeds in the Trojan War. Yet the Diomedes of this tale belongs to an earlier age.

The son of Zeus and Thea, a princess of Argos, he was unloved by his mortal kin. Casting aside that life, Diomedes wandered into the wild hills of Arcadia, where he gathered around him a band of companions—each as much an outsider as he was.

The Companions

• Eurythmicos – a sharp-eyed archer from the wind-scoured peaks of Thessaly, his arrows as swift as the mountain hawks he emulates.
• Phoebe – a streetwise Argive with a tongue as quick as her bow, forever ready with a joke or a cutting retort, yet deadly serious when danger calls.
• Aegisthus – a grizzled veteran whose scarred arms have wielded spear and sword for countless masters, his loyalty hard-won but unbreakable once given.
• Xanthe – a haunting lyre-player whose melodies can soothe or unsettle, and whose passion for music is rivalled only by her unnerving delight in battle.
• Iolaus – a silver-tongued trickster, said to hail from Crete, whose nimble fingers are matched only by his talent for tall tales and narrow escapes.
• Atalanta – Artemis’ favoured huntress, swift-footed and wild-eyed, raised among wolves and unerring with her javelin.
• Menelaus – a once-glorious hoplite, now a wandering mercenary, whose battered shield and weary eyes hint at legends and regrets alike.

From left to right, Eurythmicos, Iolaus, Phoebe, Diomedes, Menelaus, hidden behind Diomedes, 

Xanthe, Aegisthus, Atalanta.

Field of Flowers

My first game using Warriors of Athena plunged me straight into the heart of myth and danger. The scenario—drawn from the Quests book—involved a tale of fratricide and the theft of the gods’ honey. Answering Athena’s call, Diomedes led his companions into a valley unlike any other: a place of towering, exotic flowers, thick, intoxicating scents, and lurking peril. The first mission aimed to cross a valley full of large flowers, home to some giant, mystical bees that produced divine honey. Scattered across the valley floor was a series of clues that would help Diomedes and his friends in fulfilling their mission.

Wanting to bring the story to life, I improvised terrain with oversized tropical flower props—borrowed (with permission!) from one of my wife’s fashion projects. The effect was perfect: the table looked wild, vibrant, and just a little menacing. The valley, alive with mystical bees collecting divine pollen, felt truly otherworldly—and those bees were fiercely protective of their domain.

Diomedes’ plan was simple—at least on paper: cross the valley quickly, disturb as little as possible, and avoid the bees’ deadly sting and the powerful illusiogenic pollen of the flowers. Therefore, the party planned to advance quickly and in a tight formation, nerves high. Iolaus, Phoebe, and Xanthe crept along the left flank, eyes peeled for abandoned honey pots hidden among the undergrowth. On the right, Atalanta and Aegisthus hunted for similar treasures. At the same time, the rest pressed ahead along the central path, pausing only briefly to salute a roadside altar to Hermes—hoping for the god’s favour.

 

The Bees Attack

The Mystic Bees sense an alien presence in their valley

For a moment, it looked like the plan would work. Iolaus uncovered a hidden path that promised to speed our journey. But the valley had other ideas. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe territorial fury—but soon the bees began to descend. Arrows flew, companions shouted warnings, and for a heartbeat, the swarm held back. Then, from the far side of the field, a low and ominous hum signalled that reinforcements were on their way.

Worse still, the heavy, cloying scent of the flowers began to seep into our senses, muddying our heroes’ thoughts and sapping their will.

Iolaus was the first to succumb, distracted and humming softly as he examined the blooms. Soon Phoebe and Aegisthus followed, lulled into a dreamlike state. Even Diomedes felt the pull of the narcotic perfume as the warband’s cohesion began to falter.

Xanthe's Rage

Despite confusion and the threat of the bees, the companions pushed on. But discipline finally snapped when Xanthe, driven half-mad by the flowers’ perfume and the buzzing menace, lashed out at a bee. The response was immediate and brutal—she was swarmed, stung, and nearly overwhelmed.

Xanthe's desire for battle nearly ends in disaster as the bees surround her.

Meanwhile, the rest of the party staggered desperately toward the valley’s edge. Just as escape seemed within reach, Phoebe blundered into the foliage and was struck by several vicious stings, her arm erupting in a painful, angry rash.

Under a hail of covering arrows, we dragged the wounded clear. Though slowed and shaken, Xanthe and Phoebe survived—and at last our battered warband burst from the valley, gasping for fresh air and clutching what little honey we’d managed to snatch.

Saftey?

Diomedes and co had endured their first trial as Warriors of Athena—wounded, weary, but unbroken. The valley’s dangers had tested their courage and unity, leaving them scarred yet determined. But the path forward only grows darker: Diomedes and his companions must now face the monstrous Cyclops brothers, the very beasts who murdered his father and set this quest in motion. The next chapter looms, promising even greater peril and legend.
Reflections and Analysis

Some Thoughts

A fuller review of the Warrior of Athena and the Quests books can be found here with links to supported materials.

Returning to Joseph McCullough’s rules was a reminder of how enjoyable and accessible his games are. In this scenario, Diomedes and his companions earned experience points and, importantly, suffered no casualties. The former would allow them to build on their skills and acquire new abilities. Something not possible in a single adventure. Random event cards were drawn each turn, and these favoured the party: none of the more dangerous enemies appeared, and additional bees entered the game only on the far edge of the board, minimising their threat. This meant there were fewer experience points on offer, but it helped the party cross the valley faster.


The system encourages characters to develop over time. For example, Xanthe’s impulsiveness was clear—she readily attacked a bee, confirming her aggressive tendencies. Iolaus avoided direct danger and seemed more self-interested, raising questions about his reliability as a team player. Eurythmicos proved to be reliable and effective with his bow. As the campaign continues, I expect the personalities and roles of each companion to become even more defined, adding extra depth to future scenarios.
Playing this scenario also prompted me to revisit my "Song of Thalia" adventure for Rangers of Shadow Deep. These games provide excellent entertainment and spark the imagination.