Sheep Rustling - The Aftermath - Page 3

[Vagabond]

Sheep Rustling in the Debatable Land

A short backstory and scenario, the game won't start for a couple of days and will be a solo affair, so if anyone has any thoughts on tactics for either side they're more than welcome.


Damn this fog, we were lost again, well in reality we’d been lost for the best past of 3 days, would we ever find a landmark we recognised, and then all of a sudden it started to clear. Slowly at first, the tendrils of grey wispy mist gradually disappeared and on a cold grey day in November we saw the river and the standing stone on the low hillside above it. Devils Ford, I recognised it straight away and so did my companions, their faces lit up and they quickened their step, until realisation set in.


“Reba cum by” I heard Dougie say as the mutt started to get excited again. She had been the bane of our lives, ever since we left home. Dougie was convinced that his training had turned her into a sheep dog and we had believed him. What fools we’d been, after one day we were left with only 4 sheep out of the flock of 29 we had stolen from the Armstrong’s that morning.
The Armstrong’s I hear you gasp in amazement, they are the strongest and most feared family in the West Marches, fully able and willing to bring 3,000 men to a fight. We owed allegiance to no one and if we mustered every man in our valley we could barely raise 24. Although if you counted Lame Tam and One Eyed Ned that would increase our number to 26, so long odds either way.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning, and it had sounded a promising beginning three nights ago, when full of the local Poteen we’d decided we weren’t too old to make one last raid across the border before the winter set in. There were three of us, Mad Willie Snapcase, Dashing Dougie Douglas and me, The Vagabond. We told no one of our venture, fully intending to come back bragging of our successful raid.

We’d left early, in the dark but by mid morning it was bright sunshine, then the weather turned and it just got worse. Mist so thick you couldn’t see the man in front, of the man in front of you, and there were only the 3 of us. Then the snow came, driving hard and fierce, blinding us for hours before ceasing and by that time we were lost. We slept out on the hillside, cold, because we couldn’t find any dry kindling but we were well fed, the dried meat was good, unlike the cold porridge and so we didn’t go hungry. Another morning of mist and sleet and then in late afternoon we spied a small farmstead in the distance. Not being sure where we were, we decided to raid it before first light in the morning and make our way home as fast as we could.

It was a long night, sheltering behind a dry stone wall but a fire was out of the question, even if everything wasn’t wet through. The first gleam of daylight enabled us to round up the small herd of sheep from the fold near the house without waking the occupants, and we set off westward, in the general direction of home. It was only now, seeing the Devils Ford that we realised we’d come off the High Rigg on the east side of the uplands and raided the vale inhabited by a branch of the Armstrong family, we’d made what might be the biggest mistake of our lives.


“No use worrying about it now” said Mad Willie, “let’s get this flock across the ford, it’s only 15 miles to home, we should make it before dark”. “If we can keep the mutt from driving off the last 4 sheep in the flock” I muttered darkly. “She’s a good dog” Douggie said, bending down to pat the mutts head and then she started to growl.


He swiftly took his hand away but Willie said “it’s not you, look over there. Three shadowy figures emerged from the mist on the far side of the ford. “Armstrongs”, he spat the words out, “that’s put a damper on it”.


We drew our swords and evaluated the situation.

Two of us were armed with a sword and pistol, Mad Willie had a sword and shield but the lock on his pistol was broken. My companions were both wearing the locally made jack’s but I was slightly better armoured with a metal corselet and steel helmet, we had 4 sheep and a daft dog. Only Dougie can control the dog and even then it’s pretty hit and miss.
Across the river two of the Armstrong’s appear to be wearing jack’s and armed with stout spears, the man in the middle has a sword and pistol and is wearing a metal corselet and helm the same as mine.

There is a sheep fold on our side of the river with a gate closest to the river. The ford is obviously fordable but with the bad weather will be more difficult than usual, we don’t know how difficult until someone tries to cross it. The river is quite wide at the ford and our pistols are inaccurate unless at close range, about 15 yards, so we can’t stand on the bank and shoot them, well we can but the chance of a hit is non existent.
There is a bridge 5 miles down river and another ford 10 miles up stream but both will take us back into Armstrong land. Almost certainly there will be a Hot Trod out, with Armstrong’s trying to discover where their remaining sheep are. They will probably be behind us somewhere and could appear at any minute or not at all. If any of their men across the river escape, they can confirm where the sheep are and bring the Trod here quickly. At this distance they won’t recognise us but as soon as we get within 50 yards of them, our identification is certain, as will be our deaths.

Any thoughts for a plan of action for either side?
Cheers

[marianas_gamer]

Lovely set up John! I am afraid that I have no advice for your protagonists. They will have to chalk it up as the results of a bad decision. Those that survive that is. This might enter into the lexicon as a four sheep decision.

[FifteensAway]

Leave the sheep for the Armstrong's.  Shoot the blasted dog (sorry, pooch).  And hot foot it to the nearest other crossing as if your live's depended on it. 

Simples, as they say.

[OSHIROmodels]

Looks great 

Looking forward to seeing how it unfolds

[Mad Lord Snapcase]

Mad Willie, he took a bugle frae his side,
With names carved o’er and o’er —
Full many a chief of meikle pride
That Border bugle bore

He blew a note baith sharp and hie,
Till rock and water rang around —
Three score of moss-troopers and three
Have mounted at that bugle sound.

“Thare is ainlie yin coorse o' action 'ere. We cross th' ford 'n' tak' th' blade tae thaim. We wull smite thaim mightily 'n' lea thair bones fur th' crows. Murdurr thaim a' 'n' let God sort thaim oot!” roared Mad Willie Snapcase. “Set th' dug oan thaim, Dougie 'n' th' Vagabond, tak' th' heich ground 'n' unleash hell!”

[scotty]

Great looking set up

[2010sunburst]

Mad Willie, he took a bugle frae his side,
With names carved o’er and o’er —
Full many a chief of meikle pride
That Border bugle bore

He blew a note baith sharp and hie,
Till rock and water rang around —
Three score of moss-troopers and three
Have mounted at that bugle sound.

“Thare is ainlie yin coorse o' action 'ere. We cross th' ford 'n' tak' th' blade tae thaim. We wull smite thaim mightily 'n' lea thair bones fur th' crows. Murdurr thaim a' 'n' let God sort thaim oot!” roared Mad Willie Snapcase. “Set th' dug oan thaim, Dougie 'n' th' Vagabond, tak' th' heich ground 'n' unleash hell!”

And for those of us whose first language is English 

[Doug ex-em4]

Great looking board, John, very well photographed and an intriguing scenario and back-story. Speaking as Dashing Dougie Douglas, I have to say this is a tricky one. The usual tactics of "Let’s Get Torr Intae them" may not work here. It’ll be difficult getting Mad Wullie to do anything else, however.

Leave the sheep for the Armstrong's.  Shoot the blasted dog (sorry, pooch).  And hot foot it to the nearest other crossing as if your live's depended on it. 

Simples, as they say.

I think you and I are going to have to have words…! But here’s a photo of the actual Reba, looking wild and ferocious as ever:

And for those of us whose first language is English 

Would this make it any clearer?

https://youtu.be/2D4A76V6E3g?si=ia_BIKIE9MIPI6xh


Doug(ie)cDouglas - the Dashing One

[FifteensAway]

Well, the actual Reba looks a handsome beast though the look in the eyes seems to say, "Don't even think of telling me to get off the couch again, I'm comfortable.  And I'm staying!  Grrrr."  No doubt the actual dog is a highly active 'wiggle-butt' of a beast and happily follows master Doug, oh, wait, "Squirrel!" and off and running.  Or "Bird", same result, off and running.

Perish the thought of shooting an actual dog - unless it be a rabid cur. 

But in the game it seems the only option where all three of the men survive, possibly.  Going up against the Armstrongs will cost at least one of the trio and perhaps two their lives.  The survivors only hope then will be a life on the run - even a change of scenery to North America or Australia is unlikely to outreach the Armstrongs.

Of course, the Armstrongs are likely to send one of their number for help while the other two wait at the far end of the ford to take out one of the 'sheep rustlers' before reaching shore which will even the odds.  Except - if that is the option, to go against them - then Reba will be in on the action and might provide a modest edge.  But only if the ford doesn't have holes that wet the powder of the two with pistols. 

[Mad Lord Snapcase]

And for those of us whose first language is English 

I will give it my best shot, but it may lose something in translation!

Mad Willie extricated his trumpet from his accoutrements,
The one with a good deal of names carved into it -
The names of an abundance of Chiefs with a profusion of pride
That trumpet carried their epithets

He gave a good puff on it and it produced a keen and vibrant noise,
And all the surrounding lumps of nature resonated with its blast
Thirty three brigands would have,
 In the past, got on their horses when summoned by that sound

“I say chaps, only one thing to do here, in my view. Navigate over the jolly old ford and give them a touch of cold steel, a good seeing-to, if you take my meaning. I suggest it might be a cunning plan to deal with them severely and fatally. Then abandon their remains for the carrion birds. Polish them off and let the Good Lord categorise them as they ascend to the pearly gates!” ejaculated Mad Willie Snapcase. “Set your hound onto them Dougie, if you will, then the three of us should mount any protuberances in the ground and from there, proceed to punish them grievously!”

    

[Vagabond]

Lovely set up John! I am afraid that I have no advice for your protagonists. They will have to chalk it up as the results of a bad decision. Those that survive that is. This might enter into the lexicon as a four sheep decision.

Thanks Lon, I was hoping for some sage advice from such a wise head as yours. You know what Snappers and Douggers are like once they see the enemy. So be it a four sheep decision it is.

Leave the sheep for the Armstrong's.  Shoot the blasted dog (sorry, pooch).  And hot foot it to the nearest other crossing as if your live's depended on it. 

Sound advice and I would agree, well maybe not about shooting the dog,  The countryside has been raised and there's a lot of Armstrong's to go round. I fear from my brief that the crossings that are closer to Armstrong land may well be more heavily guarded.
I haven't thrown the dice yet so I may be wrong.

Looks great 

Looking forward to seeing how it unfolds

Cheers Jim, so am I.

“Thare is ainlie yin coorse o' action 'ere. We cross th' ford 'n' tak' th' blade tae thaim. We wull smite thaim mightily 'n' lea thair bones fur th' crows. Murdurr thaim a' 'n' let God sort thaim oot!” roared Mad Willie Snapcase. “Set th' dug oan thaim, Dougie 'n' th' Vagabond, tak' th' heich ground 'n' unleash hell!”

A stirring song my Lord and stout sentiments, although Google translate stumbled over your prose a little so I might have the wrong interpretation, but I take it your general view is to attack now.
Some how that's no surprise.

Great looking set up

Thanks Scotty that's kind of you to say so.

And for those of us whose first language is English 

 

Great looking board, John, very well photographed and an intriguing scenario and back-story. Speaking as Dashing Dougie Douglas, I have to say this is a tricky one. The usual tactics of "Let’s Get Torr Intae them" may not work here. It’ll be difficult getting Mad Wullie to do anything else
Doug(ie)cDouglas - the Dashing One

At the moment I'm waiting on the Armstrong reaction, he's come back with about 15 questions.  you may need to take the initiative.

But in the game it seems the only option where all three of the men survive, possibly.  Going up against the Armstrongs will cost at least one of the trio and perhaps two their lives.  The survivors only hope then will be a life on the run - even a change of scenery to North America or Australia is unlikely to outreach the Armstrongs.

Of course, the Armstrongs are likely to send one of their number for help while the other two wait at the far end of the ford to take out one of the 'sheep rustlers' before reaching shore which will even the odds.  Except - if that is the option, to go against them - then Reba will be in on the action and might provide a modest edge.  But only if the ford doesn't have holes that wet the powder of the two with pistols. 

I think you have the essence of the problem 15's, my understanding of Reba is that she's an excitable dog who may very well end up biting one of the Reivers just as easily as one of the Armstrong's. The other problem is once the Reivers advance and are recognised then they have to kill all 3 Armstrong's otherwise every farmstead in their valley will be torched by the Armstrong's, all the men killed and who knows what will happen to the women and children. It will be a scene of desolation.

Thanks everyone for your input.
Cheers

[Vagabond]

I will give it my best shot, but it may lose something in translation!

Mad Willie extricated his trumpet from his accoutrements,
The one with a good deal of names carved into it -
The names of an abundance of Chiefs with a profusion of pride
That trumpet carried their epithets

He gave a good puff on it and it produced a keen and vibrant noise,
And all the surrounding lumps of nature resonated with its blast
Thirty three brigands would have,
 In the past, got on their horses when summoned by that sound

“I say chaps, only one thing to do here, in my view. Navigate over the jolly old ford and give them a touch of cold steel, a good seeing-to, if you take my meaning. I suggest it might be a cunning plan to deal with them severely and fatally. Then abandon their remains for the carrion birds. Polish them off and let the Good Lord categorise them as they ascend to the pearly gates!” ejaculated Mad Willie Snapcase. “Set your hound onto them Dougie, if you will, then the three of us should mount any protuberances in the ground and from there, proceed to punish them grievously!”

    

So Google Translate got the general essence of your desires. 

[CapnJim]

Huh.  I'm 'Merican, and I understood every word....should that worry me?

As for the job at hand, I'm with Snapcase - the proper and precise application of human and canine violence here is the only course of action called for.  What could possibly go wrong?   

[Mad Lord Snapcase]

Huh.  I'm 'Merican, and I understood every word....should that worry me?

As for the job at hand, I'm with Snapcase - the proper and precise application of human and canine violence here is the only course of action called for.  What could possibly go wrong?

Guid jimmy, lets hae at thaim!

[elliesdad]

The bad news is that “three score … and three” is actually sixty three. Ouch 😉

Cheers,

Geoff

Ps/ according to a certain UK BBC1 tea-time quiz show, trying to escape the wrath of the Armstrongs would be Pointless 😂🤣