The Warren: Polygon Wood
An Actual Play
July - Sept 2016
Rabbits
Michael Siebold |GM
Craig W. |Eik
Jonah E. |Winthrop
Tony B. | Scamper
The Spring of 1917
The glade was still, cast in the purple-blue hues of a predawn spring morning. The silhouette of a lone rabbit bounds across the open spaces towards the treeline. With dark glassy eyes wide with panic, Scamper rushes to throw himself into the cover of the forest; stopping for a moment to look back across the clearing to the now barely visible outline of the warren mound. His chocolate colored nose twitches and his one good ear perks up. He’s off again, dashing deeper into Polygon Wood.
“Winney, wake up. Winthrop, get up. Scamper has gone missing.” Holly, the matronly leader of the warren, nudges Winthrop awake.
Winthrop blinks the sleep out of his eyes, his long fluffy coat afright, “Morning Holly.”
“He ran off before daylight. I’m worried about him. Take the newcomer and find your friend. Please.”
Winthrop yawns a tiny yawn and tumbles out of his cozy nest. With an oblivious smile and a cheerful nod, “Sure thing, Miss Holly.”
Being the newest arrival to the warren, Eik has take up in one of the less desirable burrows in the compound. In his short time here he’s frequently been reminded his place through snide quips and icy glares from Foxtrot, the resident bully, and his two cronies, Toadstool and Sumac. This morning, it’s Winthrop who arrives in the tunnel outside of Eik’s nest.
“Morning Eik,” he chirps. “Scamper ran off. Holly says you and I should find him. Wanna come with?”
Eik eyes the cheerful bunny. Where Winthrop is fluffy and round, Eik is muscled and sleek. That’s just the start of the differences.
In a stoic measured response, “Of course.”
The unlikely pair set out in search of a lost friend.
Breathing hard and slick with sweat, Scamper comes to a stop at the bank of the a rushing stream. A look of bewilderment crosses his face. A stream? The stream? How long had he been running? Looking up, the bright morning light had been filtered into a green-gold haze by the thick canopy of elm trees. He’d been running all night. What was that back there? In the warren. Was he dreaming again or was it really there? Recently it had become more and more difficult for Scamper to tell the difference between the terrors. He ran from them both all the same.
The woods were waking up. The back and forth chatter of unseen birds in the trees. The swelling din of hidden cicadas chirping. The ceaseless rolling sounds of the stream. Oye, the stream. The kits in the warren told strange tales of these waters. Not that any rational rabbit would believe those fanciful stories. Scamper finds himself staring deeply into the water as it rushes past. Watching the tiny minnows move in the shallows against the current becomes almost hypnotic. He takes a step closer. The water looks, cool. Closer. What’s that? A glint of silver in the riverbed? Closer still. The water laps against his front paws.
A wavy reflection looks back at him. What a mangy rabbit he thinks to himself. And suddenly, he was not alone anymore. For leering back at him, in the water, the shifting image of a grinning weasel standing tall and snake-like swaying methodically. Behind him.
The morning sun felt warm on Winthrop’s fur. The sweet smell of flowers hung heavy in the air.
“Strawberries will be here soon, yeah?” asks Winthrop as he bounces along.
“Suppose they will,” replies Eik.
“Yum.”
Winthrop turns back on Eik, “Wonder where Scamper went. Think we best ask ‘round?”
“Suppose we should,” Eik answers flatly.
“Let’s ask the birds!” he exclaims as he hops ahead.
“A fine idea.”
From beyond a high hedge, “Eik! Eik! I found birds. Maybe they’ve seen Scamper!” calls Winthrop.
As Eik emerges on the other side of the hedge he see Winthrop and his avine informants, “Turkeys?”
“Yup!”
The two turkeys loom over the rabbit pair, their bald heads bobbing in unison as they talk in a ping-pong cadence.
“He’s Boof.”
“I’m Boof. He’s Feast.”
“I’m Feast.”
“Stop it,” signs Eik.
Winthrop smiles.
“He’s hungry.”
“I’m hungry. We’re hungry. Got any grasshoppers?”
“No,” signs Eik.
Winthrop smiles.
“He’s Boo-”
“Stop. Just stop,” interrupts Eik, “we’re looking for a rabbit. Have you seen any this morning?”
The two sway their bulbous heads down towards the ground, casting a sideways gaze at Winthrop.
“Heya, Boof. This one looks like a rabbit?”
“Sure does Feast. Sure does.”
Winthrop smiles.
Eik glowers.
Eik stands up on his haunches and cuts to the point, “Another rabbit you nits. He’d be alone. Likely scared. Running. One ear. Have you seen any rabbit like that?”
The turkeys rock back and ruffle their feathers and in unison, “Oh, that rabbit. Yup. We seen him. Heading towards the water.”
Winthrop smiles.
Eik turns on his heels towards the river, with Winthrop in tow.
As the rabbits hop away, “Heya, bunnies what about our grasshoppers?” the turkeys call out to no avail.
“See Eik,” Winthrop says through a smile, “told you birds were a good idea.”
Mr. Goosen, grinning a toothy grin, slides around the side of Scamper with an unsettling ease. His eyes two focused black beads set deep against a pointed snout drink in every detail. Scamper is keenly aware that he is trapped, with weasel positioning himself parallel to the river.
Mr. Goosen coils himself back on his heels, “My dear. Are you lost? Whatever are you doing all the way out here. All alone?” His words drip with insincerity.
Scamper stutters to find a suitable response. The rushing waters of the stream feel more preferable with each passing moment.
The weasel clucks his tongue, “Where do you think you’re going, friend?”
In an instant Scamper braces himself to bound away. The weasel strikes with such fluidity that it sends Scamper headlong into a tumble. He feels a pull against his rear as claws rank against his hide. The rabbit regains his footing on the still wet leaves and pushes hard to put distance between himself and Mr. Goosen.
The determined predator will not be so easily dissuaded. He chuckles manically as he lopes behind Scamper. Each accordion-like stride covering a considerable amount of ground. Scamper feels the weasel gaining on him. He will not be able to lose him in time. Not here. Scamper closes his eyes tight and presses forward.
With his eyes shut tight running as fast his legs can take him, Scamper waits for the inevitable. That sudden weight that all rabbits feel when they’ve been caught. It doesn’t come. Instead a thundering sound fast approaching forces his eyes open. Winthrop? Eik?! What are they doing here? Winthrop nearly collides with with Scamper in full stride. Eik charge clear past his friend and directly into the oncoming weasel.
The skirmish is savage. Chilling sounds of screams and bites pour forth from the ball of fur as Eik and Mr. Goosen struggle. Scamper and Winthrop stand frozen in shock. Scamper is the first to react. He runs. Winthrop is left to helplessly watch as his friend fights for his life.
Eik is strong but Mr. Goosen is faster. Mr. Goosen is a killer. This is the way of nature. The weasel finds himself atop the spent rabbit. He splays his needle-like teeth and lunges for the neck. At the last moment, Eik moves his paws up to protect his most vital spots. The weasel’s teeth sink into Eik’s forepaws and he begins to thrash widely. The pain is blinding.
Winthrop remains frozen, wide-eyed, and helpless.
In a final act of desperation, Eik musters the willpower to struggle free. Holding his mangled and useless front paw close to his body, he manages one last kick at his attacker. The strike lands squarely along the side of Mr. Goosen’s head. The rodent goes tumbling back. Temporarily dazed.
Eik limps to his feet and turns to Winthrop, with eyes full of desperation he mutters, “Run.”
The unlikely pair eventually make their way back to the warren. Slowly as Eik tends to his permanently mangled front paws. Upon their arrival they are greeted by a shameful Scamper and a pensive Holly.
“I’m relieved to have you all back safely. But please, come inside. We have visitors. The emissaries from Lafléche has arrived. They carry with them words from the Milk Eyed Mother.”
Up Next The Hungry Summer
Actual Play by Michael Siebold
The Warren a roleplaying game by Marshall Miller. © 2015 Bully Pulpit Games LLC
“Polygon Wood” playbook written by Jason Morningstar
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