Saturday 24 October 2020

Turnip28: The Bolyany Irregulars - part 3. The Root of All Evil


Grega concentrated. Rain dripped inside his mask but he tried not to let it distract him.The Irregulars around him spoke to each-other in low voices as they checked and rechecked their gear, adjusted their masks and tried their best to keep their handguns and powder dry.

Grega concentrated. Something was moving in the fields beyond the broken town walls. It was hard to see through the sheeting rain and swirling fog, but there were ominous shapes looming in the gloom. Moving slowly, but definitely moving.

Grega concentrated. His mind reached out into the field. He could sense the Root, malignant and angry. Bitter, twisted and hungry. A wave of hunger swept over him and he felt angry too. He tried to force his will upon the root, as he had done every harvest-time for his whole adult life; he tried to coax it into the familiar comforting forms, to make it sweeter, softer, and more palatable. But it was so angry now, it resisted.

Grega tried to concentrate. But he was furious now. The thought of all the unnecessary destruction that the war of the Burning Winter had caused. The loss. The pain. It knotted in the pit of his stomach. It twisted him too.

Smolek watched Grega struggling, shaking, straining. It was clear the Rootmancer was out of his depth. Making a crop more edible was a very different task to taming the Root, in the form it had become. This was not going to help. They needed to light the lanterns, not battle the Root with sorcery, especially when the risk to the sorcerer was so high. Grega was out of his depth.

Something was moving in the fields beyond the broken town walls. Something… big…


I made a monstrous root-thing from one of the 3 Trolls from the Hobbit, a load of bits-box horns and greenstuff.







Some additional members of the Bolyany Irregulars I made as I was still in a turnipy mood!


Paluch the lantern lighter.




Turnip Johann





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