Hold the Line: Fun Space Weirdos Collaborative Game

A lone space marine is left behind in this collaborative skirmish game

I run multiplayer games of Space Weirdos for six to nine of my friends at least twice a year. Usually I fill them with secret objectives, betrayals and other shenanigans. This time round though I wanted to focus on something different. Collaboration under pressure. So here it is my first foray into the collaborative game.

Drawing inspiration from Warhammer 40,000, the players took on the role of Deathwatch Space Marines deployed to a doomed Imperial world. A Tyranid invasion was sweeping across the planet, and their mission was clear.

First, prevent the Tyranid hordes from reaching the hive city long enough for the civilian population to evacuate. Second, fight their way to a communications array and call in an extraction. Finally, survive long enough to reach the dropship and escape.

Simple objectives on paper. In practice, there was a planet full of hungry Tyranids standing in the way.

The players: Deathwatch Killteam

Preparing for the Collaborative Game

One of the motivations for running the game was finally getting some of my new miniatures onto the table. Last year I picked up Games Workshop’s Tomb World box set and painted the Deathwatch Kill Team (see picture above). I’d only managed to get a few games of Kill Team in with them. So I created individual character cards for each of the ten marines, attempting to match their equipment and battlefield roles as closely as possible.

The six players each selected a marine, based on coolness factor, to begin the mission.

The battlefield itself was a roughly 4′ x 4′ urban warzone, packed with ruined buildings, fences, city debris and a crashed transport vehicle. The environment felt suitably desperate, as though the defenders had already lost most of the planet and were now fighting for the final survivors.

On the other side of the table, I had prepared six waves of Tyranids that would arrive turn by turn. Unfortunately, I managed to forget my Genestealers on the day, which would have added another nasty element to the invasion. Thankfully the Tyranid force was still varied, dangerous and more than capable of causing problems.

I did have a few other surprises up my sleeve. Wave five introduced a monstrous Psychophage and wave six a Tyranid Prime, basically claws and teeth with wings. Both were significantly tougher than anything the players had encountered up to that point and immediately changed the tone of the battle.

The Battlefield

The Plan Meets Reality

Before the game began, I gave the players five minutes to discuss their strategy. To their credit, they quickly came up with a sensible plan and launched into action. Their first priority was reaching the communications array so they could call in extraction as early as possible.

Then the first wave arrived.

Seven Termagants entered the table. There were a few quiet groans around the group. Not because the termagants were tough opponents, but the fact that this was a first wave of many. If the first wave brought seven, what would the next waves bring?

The marines cut down the first wave with disciplined bolter fire, but every alien corpse simply became a stepping stone for the next wave. Wherever the players created a gap, more creatures poured through it. Much like the movie Aliens, the battlefield gradually transformed from a military operation into a desperate fighting retreat.

Collaboration Under Pressure

What made the game interesting wasn’t simply the combat. It was watching how the players worked together as the pressure increased. At the start of the mission there was plenty of discussion. Players coordinated firing lanes, covered one another’s movement and shared responsibility for achieving the objectives.

As casualties mounted, however, priorities began to shift.

Three marines were eventually killed in action. As a designer i was happy about this, it meant the danger of the scenario was very real. Each time, the player simply selected another Deathwatch marine and jumped back into the battle, ensuring everyone remained involved throughout the game.

Even so, the constant Tyranid pressure forced difficult decisions. Do you stay and support a teammate? Do you hold the line for one more turn? Or do you focus on reaching the extraction point before it is too late?

Having these dilemmas take shape on the table is a key ingredient in making collaborative games so memorable. There was no single player capable of carrying the mission alone. Success depended on the group acting together while balancing individual survival against team objectives.

Battle in full swing

A Hero Left Behind (Gasp)

Through player coordination they managed to get the dropship to arrive relatively quickly. After fighting through wave after wave of Tyranids, the players finally had a route off the planet. Then came the ultimate dilemma. While the surviving marines boarded the extraction craft and escaped, one marine did not.

Honour among the marines was forgotten. The five marines nearest the evacuation point managed to get away and the marksman covering them was left behind. In a fantastic emergent narrative that games like this produce, the lone Deathwatch operative was left behind as the dropship lifted off. While his comrades soared into orbit, he disappeared into the ruined city below, surrounded by an endless tide of Tyranids.

It was exactly the sort of grim, bittersweet ending that feels perfectly at home in the Warhammer 40,000 universe.

The mission was technically a success. The civilians were saved. But not everyone made it home.

Golden Aquilas for the Victorious

With the battle concluded, we tallied up the Tyranid kill counts and handed out Golden Aquila medals to recognise the most effective warriors, witht he best Marksman taking away the biggest Aquila. It was a small touch, but one that added a fun competitive element to an otherwise cooperative game.

More importantly, everyone left the table with a small memento and stories to tell.

The overwhelming Tyranid waves created constant pressure, the objectives forced players to make meaningful decisions, and the multiplayer format encouraged communication and teamwork throughout. Most of all, it demonstrated something I have found time and again in tabletop gaming. Collaboration becomes far more interesting when success is uncertain.

When resources are limited, enemies are overwhelming and the clock is ticking, players stop focusing on optimal solutions and start making real decisions together.

And sometimes those decisions result in medals, heroic last stands and one very unfortunate Space Marine being left to an uncertain fate on a doomed world.

If you’d like to get hold of my notes and Space Weirdos stats for the game you can get them here.

Murder, Matrimony and a Most Scandalous Evening

What happens when five Regency-era sisters discover their father has been murdered a few hours before hosting the social event of the season? Well, recently I had the opportunity to find out when I ran a two-hour one-shot of Virtues & Scandals called Featherington Manor.

Dear readers, the premise was delightfully simple. The players took on the roles of the Featherington Sisters, daughters of the fabulously wealthy Baron Featherington. Each sister had her own personality, ambitions and secret desires, while also navigating the rigid expectations of Regency society. Reputation was everything and scandal could destroy the entire family.

Our cast of sisters could not have been more different.

Bally Featherington was the eldest sister and self-appointed Queen of the Ball. Fanny was the dutiful daughter, determined to uphold the family’s reputation. Lucy Featherington possessed an almost alarming fascination with soldiers and military men. Milly was a hopeless romantic dreamer searching for true love. While Lizzy was a horse-mad adventurer who seemed entirely unsuited to the restrictions of polite society.

Together, they inherited a problem. Several problems, in fact.

Act One: The Dead Baron

The session opened with the sisters discovering their father dead in his study.

Unknown to the characters, the Baron had been poisoned by their scheming cousin Roger Askill. This thoroughly unpleasant opportunist stood to inherit everything if the sisters failed to secure a marriage. (This premise was lifted directly from the wonderful regency era podcast Bitcherton. Highly recommended for inspiration).

As the sisters searched the study, matters became even worse. Not only was their father dead, but his papers revealed that the family was effectively bankrupt. If one of the sisters did not secure an engagement before the evening was over, Featherington Manor would be lost.

Naturally, this was the exact moment when visitors began arriving at the front door. Rather than mourning their father, the sisters immediately began a frantic operation to hide the body. All the while maintaining the appearance that everything was perfectly normal. The dead Baron was eventually rolled in a rug before relocating to the coal cellar, which seemed entirely reasonable at the time.

Players scrambled to distract visitors, conceal evidence and fend off the ever-present Roger Askill. Every conversation became an exercise in maintaining propriety while desperately trying not to reveal that the head of the household was currently hidden amongst the coal.

As a bonus complication, an amorous gardener also entered the picture. Creating further opportunities for confusion, awkwardness and increasingly questionable explanations. By the end of the first act, the sisters had somehow managed to keep both the murder and the bankruptcy secret.

For now.

The Baron is dead, oh woe is me.

Act Two: The Featherington Ball

With disaster temporarily postponed, attention turned to the annual Featherington Ball.

One of my favourite tools as a Game Master is asking players to help build the setting through “paint the picture” questions. Rather than me describing every detail, the players collectively created the atmosphere of the evening. I had a series of questions ready to go and as such the grand ball took on a life of its own.

The ballroom quickly came alive with glittering decorations, whispered gossip, fashionable guests and subtle signs that the family’s wealth might not be quite as secure as everyone believed. The ball itself became a whirlwind of dancing, flirtation and social manoeuvring.

A collection of eligible bachelors attended, each carrying secrets of their own. There was the dashing Captain Percival Cavendish, the scholarly Julian Fairfax, the wildly unsuitable Lord Jasper Redmond and the sombre Mr Charles Wetherby. Meanwhile Roger Askill continued lurking in the background, hoping the sisters would fail and leave him free to claim the estate.

As conversations unfolded, alliances formed and ambitions collided. There was matchmaking, misunderstandings and a surprising amount of unsuccessful flirting.

And then there was the Can Can.

The Can Can, too scandalous!

A Dance Too Far

At some point during the evening, the Featherington sisters managed to convince the attendees to participate in the scandalous new dance sweeping society: the Can Can.

The image of respectable Regency nobles enthusiastically joining a dance that would have sent society’s chaperones into fits of horror perfectly captured the spirit of the session. The game had begun with strict expectations of decorum and social propriety, yet slowly descended into delightful chaos as players embraced increasingly bold solutions to their problems.

By this stage, secrets were being uncovered, schemes were being hatched and romantic opportunities were being pursued with varying degrees of success.

A Happy Ending… More or Less

Despite the murder, the bankruptcy, the hidden corpse, the scheming cousin and the numerous social disasters waiting to happen, the sisters ultimately achieved the one thing they desperately needed.

A proposal of marriage.

With an engagement secured by Fanny and the wealthy merchant Fairfax, the family estate was saved from falling into Askill’s hands and the Featherington name survived another day.

Why It Worked

What made Featherington Manor such an enjoyable session was how quickly the players embraced the premise. The combination of Regency etiquette, hidden agendas, personal ambitions and absurd circumstances created fertile ground for roleplaying.

Unlike many games where problems are solved with swords or spells, every challenge here revolved around conversation, reputation and relationships. Players had to think like ambitious socialites rather than adventurers, balancing personal goals against the needs of the family.

The result was a session filled with laughter, memorable character moments and exactly the kind of emergent storytelling that tabletop roleplaying games do best.

For two hours, five players became the Featherington Sisters, desperately trying to preserve their family’s future while hiding a murdered father in the coal cellar. While I, as the GM, desperately tried to keep up as the various suitors, stable boys and servants.

One of players commented that there was no fighting, it was a very different session to normal. Which is exactly why I love running one-page rpgs.

For those interested in running a similar session, go and buy Virtues and Scandals! I’ve also included my session notes to download for free here.

How to Write Engaging Game Scenarios That Fit a Tight Schedule

One of the biggest challenges when using roleplaying games in workplace settings is time. At home, a roleplaying session can happily sprawl across an entire afternoon or evening. Players chat about their week, argue with goblins for forty minutes, and somehow spend half the session buying rope. Conference environments are very different creatures entirely and run to an extremely tight schedule. Sessions need to start quickly, engage immediately, and conclude cleanly before attendees disappear into the next keynote presentation.

I have been asked to run a series of games for a communication conference in 2027 (I’ll post more details closer tot he time). There will be four sessions over two days, each 75 minutes long. The idea is to showcase how roleplaying games can help foster communication and develop leadership skills. Now I love playing short one shots, but they normally take a minimum of 3 hours. So, I have an interesting challenge: write two engaging scenarios that show case the player interaction and can be wrapped up with a debrief in one hour. Easy, right… right…

Rules

While I love D&D, Call of Cthulhu and others, they do contain pretty heavy rulesets. I will also be working under the assumption that none of the conference attendees will have any experience playing roleplaying games. Consequently, using an established ruleset is going to have too high of a learning curve.

In order for the players to get into the game quickly I’m going to use my own ruleset Play2Lead. Easy to learn in a couple of minutes participants should be able to get into the action straight away. In a similar vein there will be no character creation, rather pre generated characters will be provided for each scenario, with clear roles.

The Three Encounter Structure

I’ve written before about designing workplace scenarios before and i intend to follow the same design principles. As such each of these scenarios will a simple three encounter structure that I use for one-shots:

  1. Cold Open: Throw players straight into action—explosions, monsters, a chase. Skip the slow build.
  2. Middle Twist: Add a big revelation that flips the situation on its head.
  3. Final Showdown: End with a bang. The danger should feel real, and not everyone has to make it out alive. If possible add a difficult dilemma for the players to work through.

That’s all we have time for.

This structure creates momentum. Players immediately understand there is a clear objective and limited time to achieve it. As first-time players it’s important that they feel comfortable so they can quickly grasp the rhythm of the game.

Perhaps most importantly, it leaves room for some roleplay without letting the session drift into the wastes of overlong decision-making.

Why Familiar Genres Matter

One thing I’ve learned over years of introducing new players to RPGs is that unfamiliar rules are far less intimidating when wrapped inside familiar stories. People already understand the language of popular movies. They know how zombie survivors behave. The tension of an alien horror film is obvious. They instinctively grasp the heroic structure of fantasy quests. Of course, this means you can skip enormous amounts of explanation.

Nobody needs a twenty-minute briefing to understand: “Something is hunting us on this spaceship.” Or: “The dead are rising and we need to escape.”

The tropes do the heavy lifting for you. Players arrive with expectations already loaded into their brains like pre-installed software, allowing them to engage almost immediately.

As such my intention is to design my scenarios around popular movies. My initial thinking is Alien, Zombies and potentially a Lord of the Rings inspired one, this is roleplaying after all.

Everyone loves a good allien.

First Thoughts on an Alien Inspiration

Science fiction horror works beautifully in short-form workplace games because the pressure is immediate and constant. Everyone can visualise the close industrial tunnels of these types of film. The players can get straight into the game without much in the way of explanation.

Characters

The pre-generated characters for this session will include standard tropes: captain, engineer, science officer, medic, pilot each with a specific skill and piece of equipment.

Encounter One: The Distress Signal

Straight into the action, the crew of a salvage vessel begin by investigating a damaged research station after receiving a fragmented distress call. The station is mostly abandoned, lights flickering, alarms sounding intermittently, and signs of violence scattered throughout the corridors. The players must find the generator and restore power to the engines. What has caused such chaos?

Suddenly the hull will breach and the players need to work together to secure it, quickly. A nice bit of urgency right from the get go.

Encounter Two: Something is Loose

Now for the middle twist, although probably not unexpected given the theme. As the team explores deeper into the facility, they discover evidence of a hostile lifeform. Slime, scratch marks etc. Communications fail. The creature begins stalking them through vents, maintenance tunnels, and darkened laboratories.

Players must talk in whispers, or communicate through note or face attack from the creature. The scenario becomes about teamwork, communication, and managing panic under pressure.

Encounter Three: Escape

The players discover the only way out is aboard a damaged shuttle with limited seats and a failing reactor countdown. They must choose between rescuing survivors, destroying the station, or simply escaping alive. A very juicy dilemma!

This final encounter creates fantastic workplace discussions around leadership, decision-making, and competing priorities.

Keep It Simple, Keep It to a Tight Schedule

The key to designing this sort of adventure is that simplicity creates engagement.

Conference attendees do not need twenty pages of backstory and complicated rules.

They need:

  • A clear objective
  • Recognisable tropes
  • Immediate problems
  • Interesting decisions
  • A chance to contribute

That’s what creates memorable sessions.

Over the next few months I’ll be refining the design for 2-3 scenarios and sharing my thinking here.

But what i really want is to give those conference attendees signing up for my games to leave with a fun memory having experienced something different. And i hope the realisation that RPGs can be used as a fun way to practice both communication and leadership.

Particularly the bit where Dave from HR sacrificed himself to the space monster while screaming into a malfunctioning flamethrower.

Discovering the Hidden Joy of One-Page RPGs

Roleplaying games come in all shapes and sizes. Some arrive in beautifully bound rulebooks hundreds of pages thick, complete with detailed character creation systems, extensive equipment lists, and years of accumulated lore. I love those games. But sometimes, the funnest adventures fit on a single sheet of paper. One-page RPGs occupy a special place in my gaming heart. They are unapologetically focused, delightfully weird, and incredibly accessible. In a hobby that can sometimes feel intimidating to newcomers, a one-page RPG keeps it simple: “Here’s the premise. Grab some dice. Let’s play.”

Theme Heavy, Rules Lite

The magic of a one-page RPG isn’t found in complex mechanics. It’s found in commitment to a theme. A good one-page RPG takes a single idea and runs with it at full speed. The handful of rules exist purely to support that concept. There is no attempt to simulate every possible situation. Instead, each game asks a simple question:

“What if we spent the next few hours fully embracing this particular fantasy?”

That focus creates something remarkable. Players aren’t spending the first hour learning rules or optimising character builds. They’re immediately stepping into the tone and spirit of the game. The result is often a session that feels more like an improv comedy show, a favourite movie, or a particularly chaotic stage play than a traditional campaign.

Perfect for a Single Evening

Where I think One-page RPGs really shine is as one-shots. Most can be taught in less than minutes and completed in a three to four-hour session. That makes them ideal for game nights when the full Dungeons & Dragons campaign isn’t happening, when new players are joining the table, or when you simply want to try something different.

There’s also a peculiar freedom that comes from knowing the story begins and ends in a single sitting. Players are more willing to take risks. They make bigger choices. They embrace ridiculous plans. Nobody is worried about preserving a carefully crafted character for the next two years of campaign play.

If the plan fails spectacularly, then that’s a great way to finish.

Nice Marines

One of my favourites is Nice Marines. I ran this back at MartyCon 2026 with ten minutes prep and we had a blast.

The premise is wonderfully simple. You’re genetically engineered super-soldiers in enormous power armour, capable of crushing enemies and surviving impossible odds.

Your mission? Diplomacy. Helping a planets government after the war. The contrast between the imperial murder machines and the non combat scenario became a great source of comedy.

Want to play regency era? Virtues and Scandals might be for you.

Virtues and Scandals

Then there’s Virtues and Scandals, which I would like to run for my current gaming group. This throws the players into a Bridgerton-esque Regency-era romance drama. Think grand balls, whispered rumours, unsuitable romances, ambitious social climbing, and enough scandal to keep society talking for months.

Here success isn’t measured by defeating monsters or collecting treasure. It’s measured by reputation, romance, influence, and whether your latest social disaster can somehow be turned into an advantage.

The stakes are completely different, yet somehow feel just as important. And for a group that enjoys the rough and tumble of combat it will make for a fun change of pace. I might even buy some cheap fans for the players to hide behind during the game.

This One Time at Bard Camp

If Virtues and Scandals is Regency drama, This One Time at Bard Camp is pure college comedy. Players take on the roles of aspiring bards attending a summer academy dedicated to music, performance, and probably causing trouble.

The game embraces all the classic teen movie tropes: rivalries, friendships, crushes, embarrassing mistakes, talent competitions, and authority figures who are somehow always one step behind the chaos.

I think this would be great fun for my group to get let loose on.

A Perfect Fit for the Workplace

One of the biggest challenges when introducing roleplaying games to a professional audience is overcoming the learning curve. Participants may only have an hour or two available, and few want to spend half that time reading rules.

That’s where one-page RPGs excel.

Explaining the rules takes minutes, allowing groups to spend the majority of their session actually playing, communicating, and solving problems together. The simplicity removes barriers and helps participants focus on the experience rather than the mechanics.

The strong themes also make it easier for people to engage quickly. Most people immediately understand the social dynamics of a Regency romance, or the chaos of a summer camp comedy. Familiar tropes give players permission to jump straight into roleplaying without worrying about getting the setting “wrong.”

For workplace conferences, training sessions, and leadership development programs, this makes one-page RPGs an ideal tool. In a single 90-minute session, participants can practise communication, teamwork, creativity, adaptability, and problem-solving while sharing plenty of laughs along the way.

In many ways, one-page RPGs demonstrate one of the greatest strengths of roleplaying games as a learning tool: meaningful experiences don’t require complex systems. Sometimes a simple premise, a clear theme, and a group of willing participants are all that’s needed to create genuine engagement and lasting memories.

Why They Matter

One-page RPGs remind us of something important about our hobby. The rules are not the point. Rather, we should be focusing on is gathering around a table with friends and collectively creating fun, memorable stories.

A one-page RPG strips away almost everything except imagination and theme. What’s left is often pure roleplaying joy. They’re easy to learn, easy to run (usually), and easy to share. As such they allow us to explore worlds and genres that would never justify a year-long campaign but make for an unforgettable evening.

Most importantly, they remind us that roleplaying games don’t need to be complicated to be memorable. Sometimes all you need is a single page, a handful of dice, and a group of players willing to embrace the premise completely.

Jump onto google. Search one-page RPGs, and find one that has a theme that appeals to you. After a quick read you can have it at the table in 15 minutes. I think you’ll enjoy the results.

Building a Realm One Session at a Time: My Fortnightly Mythic Bastionland Game

Every fortnight my gaming group gathers to play Mythic Bastionland by the talented Chris McDowall, a game about wandering knights defending their realm from strange myths and ancient dangers.

If you imagine the sweeping, generational storytelling of Pendragon, but loosen the strict expectations of chivalric codes, you are somewhere close to the spirit of the game. The knights of Bastionland are not bound to an exact interpretation of honour. Instead, they roam the realm keeping to their oaths: Seek the Myths, Honour the Seers, Protect the Realm. In doing so they confront mysterious forces that threaten the realm, shaping its fate through their deeds.

And it has been an absolute blast to run.

The Knights of the Realm

Our current band of defenders is a wonderfully strange mix of personalities and mythic archetypes:

  • Ser Steele, the Cosmic Knight, who has a fascination with the stars and enormous ambition.
  • Lady Faun, the Snare Knight, at one with nature, preferring the wilds to the slowly burgeoning civilisation.
  • Ser Aegen, the Salt Knight, hardened by sea winds and coastal hardships.
  • Ser Whynn, the Iron Knight, steadfast, laughs in the face of danger with a mead in hand.
  • Ser Perceval, the Temple Knight, devoted to sacred duty and the protection/creation of holy places.

Together they wander the realm confronting the myths that threaten the fragile stability of civilisation.

Creating characters is easy, 1D12 +1D6 for three virtues Vigour, Clarity and Spirit, roll or choose a knight and you’re off.

The Realm of Caer Senara

Creating the Realm of Caer Senara

As the games master, one of the joys of Mythic Bastionland is how easily it helps you create a living world. Rather than meticulously designing everything in advance, I generated most of the setting using the book’s random tables.

The result was the realm of Caer Senara, centred around Stillharbour, the coastal port and Seat of Power. Around it lie several holdings:

  • Mistfields – a valley of lakes and vineyards, ruled by a drunken lord with a sinister senechal pulling strings in the background
  • Faecairn – Watchtower where the boundary to the fey is thinner
  • Silvergard – Home of the Praetorians and taciturn and well trained military force
  • Brightbridge – Foodbowl of the realm with seas of wheat and hotbed of rebellion

To give the realm immediate tension, I also generated four myths lurking within its borders, along with a number of strange landmarks including the Sea Kings throne, a ruined monastery and a deranged alchemist. What emerged surprised me. The random tables didn’t create chaos. Instead they produced something that felt layered, mysterious, and alive.

The bones of the world came together over a couple of afternoons. However, the real magic began once the dice started rolling.

When the Realm Comes Alive

Over the first ten sessions, the knights have already shaped the fate of Caer Senara in dramatic ways.

  • The company won a grand tourney against knights forged from clockwork
  • A tidal wave once threatened to devastate the realm, forming in the mountains instead of the sea.
  • A giant boar roamed the countryside, leaving destruction in its wake.
  • Political tensions simmered among the noble houses resulting in a rebellion erupting within the realm itself.

None of these stories felt forced. They grew naturally out of the myths, locations, and the decisions of the knights. I feel that I am discovering the plot at the same time as the players.

The artwork in Mythic Bastionland is thematic, intriguing and beautiful.

Entering the Second Age

Now, after ten sessions, the campaign has reached an important milestone.

We are entering the Second Age of the realm.

Time moves forward in Mythic Bastionland, and the passage of years is part of the story. The knights themselves are growing older, as they do their stats initially improve, but as they enter old age they begin to decline. Marriages have been arranged and the key holdings are now run by the players. Successors have been appointed. The political landscape has completely shifted.

New challenges loom on the horizon. This movement of time gives the campaign an epic quality. It feels like a chronicle of a realm slowly changing across generations.

A Breath of Fresh Air

Another reason I enjoy this game so much is its simplicity.

Running a campaign that isn’t Dungeons & Dragons has been surprisingly refreshing. The rules are lighter, record keeping is minimal, and the style of play is very different. Players rely more on their wits than an array of powerful abilities.

Less bookkeeping means more time for story, strange myths, and the unpredictable decisions of wandering knights.

Sharing the Realm

I’ll be making my original scrappy realm notes for Caer Senara available for anyone who is interested. You might use them as the starting point for your own campaign, or simply as an example of what a randomly generated realm can look like. Either way, they show how a few tables, a handful of myths, and a group of players can quickly grow into a living world.

And who knows. Perhaps your knights will one day ride through the misty fields of Caer Senara as well.