After driving off the hungry wolves, the rest of the night passed without incident. Next morning the party continued their journey and made good time to the rendezvous point on the far side of Turpin's Wood.
On arrival, instead of the bustling camp of their neighbours at the crossroad, they were might by an entirely different sight.
Strewn around were the remains of their slaughtered neighbours. The entire group returning from Boston lay dead, stripped of valuables.
A pitiful moaning alerted them to the presence of someone injured at the base of a tree.
The individual was not from Chalgrove. The man had received a mortal wound and would not last long without treatment. A cocked pistol lay in his lap. No other powder or ball about his person. The dark purpose of the pistol was clear. It was doubtful he would have the strength to lift it.
Dr. Young bent to examine the wound. It would be difficult but it was possible he could be saved.
Diable Pomme scanned their surroundings in all direction. Ever watchful of a potential threat.
Nate bent closer and asked questions as Dr. Young did what he could to stop the bleeding and close the wound. It would have to be a temporary fix. If the patient survived the next hour or so he would need to be taken someplace he could be cared for.
The injured man told how he had joined the Chalgrove group to provide extra security. His intention was to find work in Chalgrove and possibly gain a place of his own there. His wife and children were in Boston and would follow when he was settled in. Last night they were ambushed. He had received the sword cut early in the attack and doesn't remember anything else. He must have been left for dead.
Diable Pomme looked at the wound. A wide slash that went from the man's chest, on the right side, down to his left hip. Diable Pomme said nothing. With his musket cradled in his arms, he leaned closer. Only moving his eyes, he gestured from Nate to the injured man's right ear. There was a small, mostly healed, slit in the earlobe. The two companions looked at each other. Nate stepped forward slightly, placing his foot on the barrel of the pistol now lying on the grass beside the man and gripped only loosely.
Diable Pomme spoke slowly. “A slashing cut from high right to low left would normally start at his shoulder. This cut starts lower down. Also, most sword cuts I've seen like this would be from high left to low right. I would say this was a cut by a shorter man, who was left handed.” Dr. Young abruptly stopped stitching the wound. All three looked towards the lifeless corpse of Elderman Joshia Maxwell a short distance away. Since injuring his right arm, the short, portly man had struggled to wield his hunting sword in his unfamiliar left hand. It would appear he'd got in at least one good blow before he fell.
- - - - - -
The party debated whether to hang the man from the tree or take him back to Chalgrove for a fair trial and then hang him. Pleading for his life the man confessed to being with the brigands. They were part of a privateer crew. Their ship was stuck in Boston due to the Port Act. They had followed and overtaken the Chalgrove party after over hearing of the plans and profitable trading of the group in a tavern. The man offered to tell the party where the ambushers had gone if they would treat his wounds and allow him to go on his way.
While this was happening, Diable Pomme had been circling the ambush site. He nodded towards the North Road and said. “Around ten men left that way, carrying a heavy load. The next village is Holbrook. We can easily be there by nightfall if we leave now.....unencumbered.”
It was decided to head for Holbrook taking the injured pirate with them. He could be delivered into the hands of the magistrate there. Unfortunately Dr. Young made a critical fail on his heal rolls and (despite his best efforts) the pirate bled out by the roadside.
Arrival in Holbrook
The sun was going down over Massachusetts farmland as the party arrived at Holbrook. First stop was the Red Lion. (Bottom right of the pictures above.)
The Inn was busy.
Nate and Dr Young headed straight for the bar to ask if the brigands had passed through.
The full reason for their interest was glossed over. Creating a lynch mob would only slow them down.
Diable Pomme moved to the corner of the common room, to keep an eye out for trouble.
His reputation proceeded him in these parts and his back was slapped good heartedly a few times as he pushed through.
Dr. Young received a warm welcome from Abraham Smith, the tavern keeper. There were a number of times the village had called on the Doctor's medical skills. Thomas Young wasn't actually a doctor. He'd completed five of his six year training when the French Indian War had broken out. He never got around to completing his studies. He was however, the closest thing to a doctor this side of Cambridge. The treatment of a young lad's broken leg the previous summer was gratefully brought up in particular. Two foaming tankards of ale appeared in front of the travellers, as if from nowhere.
Another flagon shortly appeared further along the bar, beside DiablePomme. “There you go Mr Red Apple. Courtesy of the House. There's a boul of stew to go with that when you're ready. You watch yourself out there. Word is, some of the Mohawks up North have been bought off with enough London gold to break away from the six nations and head for these parts causing trouble.” With a cheery wink Abraham moved back along the bar “You keep your hair on now Mr Red Apple. We don't want to lose you too.”
The patrons of the Red Lion were a mixed bunch. Farmers, frontiersmen, artisans,.. a cross section of the local population and those passing through. Most had their muskets and other weapons with them.
In the most general of terms the patrons here favoured breaking ties with the mother country. Some of the muted conversations involved the 'Intolerable Acts' imposed by the Parliament in London. Though aimed at Boston, the effects were starting to be felt even out here. This was in stark contrast with the King's Head tavern across the road. A well known haunt of the local Tory loyalists. So far hostilities had been limited to the exchange of nothing more than a few harsh words. There was a simmering tension in the air between neighbours. A storm was brewing.
The landlord was happy to inform Nate that a largish party had indeed come through, that very day. They'd headed off in the direction of Old Millar's ford a few hours ago. Come to think of it, four of them stayed behind. Two in the stable, two still here, as far as Abraham could recollect. One sitting over there, on the far side of the fireplace. The innkeeper stood on tippy toes to look around the bar. Face scrunched in concentration. He looked down and started with surprise at the drinker hunched over his flagon, standing next to Nate. “Why,.. here's the other one right beside us.”
The two normal patron figures were swapped for two pirate figures as their true nature was revealed. Order of initiative was determined.
The one at the bar quickly drew his pistol and shot at Nate. A hit. Nate's Pewter mug got in the way of the ball and was blasted into pieces.
On the far side of the tavern the other pirate raised his musket and fired. The room filled with smoke and alarum. A miss.
Nate looked at the ruins of his Tankard and lashed out with the broken remains at the pirate. The landlord reached over the bar and pressed the muzzle of his ever-handy blunderbuss against the side of the staggered pirate. The muffle boom of the wide mouthed firearm was almost simultaneous to the noise of Diable Pom's musket as he shot the other pirate as he tried to climb through the shuttered window to get out into the street. (He'd failed an easy Q physical roll to smash through the shuttered window.)
In that instant of chaos the tavern common room teetered on the brink of exploding into a mass of shots and blows. Above the confusion boomed out Dr Young's commanding order. “Hold your hand.” Triple success roll on Q test to influence the mob. Impressive!
They paused long enough for a quick explanation to be given. Incensed at the news of the ambush many in the assembly pushed towards the door, intent on apprehending the companions of the two fallen pirates, expected to be still in the stable.
Nate was first out of the tavern. A couple of the faster reacting frontiersmen were close behind, followed by Dr Young.
Diable Pomme was being carried along in the trailing press of tavern customers.
Nate rushed out, intent on stopping their other two prey from getting away. Too late he saw the muzzle in the shadow of the stable doors. A shot ran out. He felt like he'd been kicked by a mule and fell to the ground. As darkness filled his vision he saw the two frontiersmen behind him had not rushed out into the open as he had and had stopped instead at the first available cover. Hmmm... on reflection, perhaps that would have been more prudent.
From the cover of the water trough Dr Young and a frontiersmen exchanged shots with the pirate.
Suddenly a shout was raised and a nag burst from of the stables heading North out of Holbrook. It's unskilled rider was making a desperate dash to freedom. A faster horse would have made it with ease.
Dr. Young reloaded as quickly as he could. Initiative cards were drawn.
Graced by the fates, the good doctor went first and got his shot off before the lumbering nag carried its rider to safety. The pirate dropped to the ground, seriously wounded. Dr. Young was the best shot amongst the three companions.
Nate's wound was then tended by Dr. Young. A veil was drawn over the fate of the pirate in the stable when the mob reached him. Suffice to say, the absent Holbrook magistrate wasn't troubled by the inconvenience of a trial when he returned from Cambridge the following day.
Diable Pomme established (with an easy Q tracking test) that their main prey had travelled East, towards the ford mentioned by the innkeeper. After the bandaged Nate insisted he was fine to travel, the three hurried off in pursuit. They insisted the mob remained in Holbrook.
Light was now fading fast. Fortunately there was a Hunter's Moon expected tonight.
How apt.
- - - - -
This post recounted scenes 2 and 3 of the 5 in total that made up our trial game of 'Tricorns and Patriots'. This is a work-in-progress RPG based around rules cobbled together from a number of Ganesha games products. The next post with parts 4 and 5 will conclude this 'pilot episode'. All 5 scenes were completed in one evening.
