Sitting in the Inn of the Twin Tailed Fox, half an eye on the drizzle outside, the gang looked up as Martyn the monk slowly made his way downstairs, aided by a walking stick. One leg was heavily bandaged. "Yah, that's a nasty wound old chap, it's going to slow you right down." Sir C'astle Berry the Shrew looked at the mouse and smiled wryly. "Still, could be worse!" "I know," the old mouse agreed, "I'm sorry I brought us into this mess." "Nonsense, we are here for adventure, just a shame we are a hamlet over from where we wanted to be. Come, sit, warm your leg." "It was a prosperous village we sighted, we should have controlled it by sunset." A long green lizard uncurled her tail and hooked a flaggon. Flash the kingfisher pecked at the steaming trout on the table, with a mouthful he muttered "How were we to know the TWO Royalist gangs were gonna 'ave a go at us!" "Indeed my irridescent friend...