And Meeple came a-walkin up the fine packed dirt of main street, nothing but the thud of his footsteps providing the beat for the dusky wind.

He stood and there he waited. He done come to lay his claim to these parts for Red. Folks speak lately of Mr. Green’s men – bandits all. They be lyin’ in wait on the road just outside the edges of town. That ain’t no way to treat people. Ain’t no way at all.

Now, there be thems that says Meeple and his kin be new to these plains, bringing with them the spirit of great Europe on over here. There be thems that say Meeples done come to break the monopoly.

At first, not many knew this extruded marauder. They ask where he harken from, and well, Germany be the right closest answer come back. Whither that be truth or just some design of the prairie winds, I ain’t ken to know.

But I knew that day there’d be the showdown, when Meeple came a-walkin.

He’d left himself a trail of dice and plastic pawns scattered in his wake, all shattered by his ‘elegance’. A lot of old heroes fell before Meeple, for good or bad, I don’t know. Not quite sure I reckon how it happened, neither, being ol’ Meeple and his kin be against war and such. But somehow, suddenly, or maybe not quite so fast to those who been watchin’ all careful, there be Meeple. Everywhere. And Red done come to lay his claim here as well.

Now, I don’t know what Meeple know, and I don’t claims to neither. But this here seemed a brazen move for this pacifist in wood.

Cuz he done stepped into the town of Grognard.

Grognard proper be a strange, six sided village, quite unlike the Meeple Square. Mighty texts and ancient tomes in numbered paragraphs and strange initials wrought upon their cover filled the library where Meeple’s head would reel in the sheer complexity and fiddlyness of it all.

But he done wandered into that zone of control in Grognard, and stepped over that line of sight, not knowing he’d done such a travesty, for Meeples are not schooled in these ways.

The sheriff of Grognard, well, from his point of view, things were different. In come this stranger Meeple, arms out at his sides, like he’s a-ready to draw. That’s all a Grog needs to see.

Consulting them tomes and texts and addenda in the Grognard library, odds was bein’ calculated. Supplies checked, weather consulted. For Meeple, things were simpler, all he did was wander in to stake his claim. Grognards have no such thing about them.

In a blaze of smoke and CRTs, Meeple was done gone. Ain't he never stood no chance to those so schooled in the ways of fightin'.

Grognard rests easy again, the invasion held off once more. The only problem here be told is the strength not in fire, but in numbers.

Again, there come more Meeple. And the Grogs calculate their destruction, and the tides of Meeples grow, and like sticks thrown into a raging fire, simply vanish in their pacifistic ways and continue to press on.

And the game here never ends, as the battle lines are drawn. Tales tell a few who been to both sides. Some convert, some jump to and fro, but never the battle will end on the dusty streets of Grognard.

And Meeple came a-walkin up.