A beginning: Silver Bayonet Narrative #1

Silver Bayonet is my game of the month, and the games to date have been so darn cinematic, that the narrative pretty much started writing itself.....

The cold wind whips and howls outside, stuttering the flames in the open fireplace. Two young children sit awake, tormenting their old uncle for yet one more story, yet one more swashbuckling tale of his adventures fighting the French invaders. Perhaps a cavalry charge this time? A damsel rescued from an evil French voltigeur? 

They hoped beyond all else to get a story that they could repeat, one that they could dazzle the other children with at lessons, one to show their uncle’s heroism, to better help their own prospects at one upping their friends.

Increasingly exasperated, the man shuffled awkwardly to an arm chair by the fire, propping his right arm on the chair, beckoning the children close with the stump of his left, all that remained of his that arm- deciding upon a tale he had not yet told.

A story you want is it? And a good one no less. One that will make you the prince and princess of the class?

Very well. I suppose you are old enough now to learn the truth of it, to learn the truth of my war. Don't tell your mother, she still has nightmares from my tales.

The children sat, and the old man began his tale…

I have told you before that I was at the battle of Jena, fighting for my life with more than 50,000 of my countrymen. What I haven't told you was what happened after that battle, and my first encounter with the damned Austrian, or the forces of the Harvestmen. But I didn't know of those things yet, and that is how it was that after the battle that I came to be with a small band of soldaten, hiding from the pursuing French.

Hiding in a forest, talking low over cards one night, one of the Jäger, Hugo, shared a tale of an object of some magical power, that was in a nearby village. Thinking mostly with our stomachs, the prospect of some trinket to barter with appealed, so Hugo led our small band off into the woods, sure of the direction in which to head.

The village wasn’t far, travelling at night to avoid the bands of French cavalry searching for those who had fled the battle.

We arrived at twilight, the sun stays dancing across the ruins of the village, flickering through ruined windows and creating long shadows that played across the cobblestones ahead of us.

I spotted movement, white uniforms in a nearby house, scrambling among the ruins. It was Hugo who fired first, the echo of his rifle crack bouncing off of the buildings around us. We were only aware of how quiet the place was, once that silence was broken.

Hugo's shot sent one of the white uniformed soldiers scurrying back into cover, then I could clearly hear the ripple of musketry fire that they unleashed, clearly they numbered far more than the one I had spotted! Curiously, I couldn't hear the smack of shot hitting stone, I couldn't hear any cries of the wounded, perhaps they had not yet seen us? But they knew of Hugo, they had reacted to his shot? My men began to return fire, the smoke mixing with the shadows around us, the crash of the muskets echoing all around.

Drawn to the sound, or to our warmth, or driven by some unholy magics, shapes emerged from the shadows, stumbling towards us. Our calls for them to halt went unanswered, and as the figures drew close, it was clear that there was a reason for this. 

Dull, unblinking white eyes sat in hollow grey skin, hanging loose from their faces. They moved at a slow, shambling gait, their arms outstretched, reaching for us. I must admit, their appearance held me entranced, it was only once soldat Heinz stepped in front of me and fired his musket that the spell was broken, and I comprehended the true terror at the horror walking towards me. 

Musketry rang out, for while we may have been on the run from defeat at Jena, we were still Prussians, our muskets were clean and our aim sharp. The shambling figures, the revenants, continued on, the small lead balls piercing their bodies and passing clean through, barely halting them in their stride. When they reached us, the bayonet proved more effective, cutting down a number of them while they sought to grapple us to the ground.

Firing my pistol point blank at what remained of a woman cleared my line of sight enough to see white uniformed soldiers digging in the ruins ahead of me, one of them emerging with a glinting golden icon, it's value clear as the piece that we also sought. 

The damned Austrian

My focus returned to my own wellbeing as muskets rang out from the white skirmish line ahead of me. Heinz and Buchner fell awkwardly beside me, dead before they hit the ground. Seeking cover from the damned Austrians I tripped on the loose rubble, falling heavily on my arm beside the once-woman I had just hit with my pistol. Distracted, reeling from the turmoil around me, I was easy prey for her as she latched onto my leg, her jaws tearing a piece of my thigh loose. In panic, I speared her through the eye with my blade, finally halting her attack. 

Fighting the forces of the Harvestmen

Shuffling to my feet, I fled, I fled for my life. Once, I stumbled on a dark shape on the ground, only to find Hugo, stone dead, a musket round having pierced his skull.

I ran, and ran, before collapsing in the remains of an animal pen. The bite the revenant had given me turned my skin black, withering around the site of the wound. When I found sleep, the wound infected my nightmares, tormenting me with dreams of the wound's withering effect on my soul.

I lay there for days, the poison from the wound flooding through my veins driving me mad with visions of death, decay and ruin all around me.

On the morning of the fifth sunrise, she found me. She wore a long white gown, bearing not a trace of the damp or mud from the sodden ground around us. Her golden hair was haloed by the morning sun, her face kind, smiling as if laughing at a joke that only she knew. She spoke to me in a voice that felt like a warm summers day. 

 "Wake up Feldwebel Leichhardt, it is not yet your time to join the dead. For you the war is only just beginning. You have stumbled upon the real war Feldwebel, the only one that matters. And now, you must play your part in it..."

And that my lieblings is where we will end for this evening, with the first time I met the White Lady Mathilde. Her magics healed my leg, but the war against the Harvestmen was only just beginning....