Introduction
This is a chapter taken from an on-going and long running Mountain Man campaign we have been playing for about 20 years now. We keep coming back to it, writing another story, playing it as a game and weaving it into the book, which is called The Chronicles of Nazareth Hawkins, Mountain Man. The footnotes from the original have been left in too. Some are real, ie they refer to actual events or objects, others are spoof, made up by the writers to add cod authenticity.
We play in 54mm, using figures we have converted from all sorts of originals, including some very old Marx figures. There are some real characters amongst the Mountain Men, and we each have our favourites now, who have developed traits and quirks as they have been involved in our games. I have included a cast list for this scenario, with the characters on each side and their abilities etc. We use the Skirmish Wargames Old West rules, naturally enough as we wrote them, but any rules with a suitable western flavour will do, as will any suitable 25mm figures. Foundry will be bringing a range of Mountain Men out soon - I know because I'm helping the designer, Mike Owen, with pictures and information - watch out for them 'cause they should be good.
Scenario
The set-up is one in which the Mountain Men are trying to rescue a couple of females who have been abducted by Indians, and the storyline explains how this has come about. The narrator for the first paragraph is Naz Hawkins himself, but as he explains, he is not actually involved in this little fracas.
The complication is weather - it is mid-winter and there is thick snow all over everything, and this needs to be built into the rules and planned for in any approach to the game. There will be the obvious effects on movement, the risk of falling into hidden deep drifts etc. So, lets step back in time and join the intrepid men of the mountains in a white wilderness, in temperatures cold enough to set monkey brasses clanging, as they do or die and rescue the damsels in distress. Here follows the first extract from the Chronicles.
Chapter the Fourth
BAD DAY AT BLACK ROCK
This, and the following chapter, are concerned with a sequence of incidents that marked one of the early low points of the venture. Neither I nor Amos were directly involved in them and so the narrative is drawn from and is based on the accounts by the surviving Participants, as related to me soon after the Events described.
One wrote his own account of his Life in the mountains which he had published on his return to the United States, and whilst I believe that he is too fulsome in his praise of me in that Volume I do, nonetheless, thank him for his kind words . The preamble to these events is that after the occurrences recounted last at Adam's Fort I had split the party once more, this time into three. I, with some select companions who were the most familiar with the mountains had ridden on to find the pass through to Taos, whilst a second group, comprising most of the best beaver trappers I had brought on with us so far, detoured to try some trapping in the waters on the eastern slopes of the Mountains. The third group brought up the rear and had the bulk of the Supplies and Horses, and were under Captain Amos Curtis' direct command. It is the Tale of the second party, under the command of Armageddon Smith, whom I appointed Captain for that purpose, that now concerns us. What follows is the sorry tale as we pieced together after the event from the various protagonists, as best we could tell.
The flurries of snow almost hid the figures as they moved silently through the white wonderland, billowing around them and coating them with their own layer of miller's dust. Suddenly the leader stopped, motioning the others to halt with a gesture. Crouching low, he went forward through the trees to a low rocky ridge and paused, peering out into the greyness. After, a minute or two he moved back to his companions, and began conversing with them in a low voice.
"Ah reckon their just ahead, holed up down in that gully 'til this storm blows over. We could try to catch 'em with their britches down afore they move on."
"Yeah, we could, Pierre , but 't would be a risky business when we can hardly see each other never mind them. An' they'll have set a careful watch, with the advantage to them with no need t' move about." Armageddon Smith replied, "What do the rest o' you boys reckon we should do? Hit 'em now or wait 'til the snow stops an' catch 'em as they move out?"
The other men had all moved to the shelter of a clump of trees and were hunkered down out of the worst of the wind. A grisly clad man squatting down same way downwind from the others spoke first.
"We can't let them slip away again. Those women may not survive much longer. If we lose them and another snow blows up we might not cut their trail 'til too damn late. Ah say let's split, send half on us around ahead of 'em to make sure they caint slip away afore we know, then move in quick when the snow lifts a mite."
Having given his opinion, Evil Smellin' Johnson hunkered back on his heels and waited for the others to mull over his proposal. He thought back over the events of the last few days as the others talked. The Mountainmen had been astounded at the sight of a white woman when old "Boudins" Audie had opened the doors of his rough cabin when the trappers had ridden into his trading post, known as Audie's Fort, four days before. Wide eyed astonishment had turned to disbelief when grey haired old Jed had introduced the 30 year old blonde beauty as his new wife.
When his new daughter, an equally good looking long legged 15 year old walked out the door the watching trappers were near to hysteria. The rest of that day the two females were treated to the best entertainment that Mountainmen could offer, and all seemed set for a memorable time. But the effect on the Commanches who had also come in to trade was even greater than on the white men. The very next day a group of young bucks had tried to trade for Boudin's wife and daughter and old Audie had ended by driving them off at gun point.
The disgruntled Indians had not taken the insult lightly and trouble looked likely until Armageddon Smith, the Mountainmen' leader, had smoothed things over with a keg of red-eye. The trappers had thought all was well, but next morning awoke to find that the Commanches had decided to take the two women anyway - whether Boudins would trade or no'. They had made off in the early hours after laying the old trader out cold. Reaction had been fast - each of the Mountainmen wanted one (or both) of those white women themselves but would never have taken them by force and they were damn sure as hell not going to let no greasy sons of Satan have their way with them. Men scouted around the camp to cut the Indians' trail, and once it was found a rescue party under Armageddon himself had set out.
With the tough Missourian went Irish Joe Meehan, Pierre O'Hara, Bayou Battelier, Evil Smelling Johnson, and Boy Jack.. Red Coat, the Delaware, was the best tracker in the camp and he led the way. The seven had set off immediately, despite the blinding snow storm which had blown up, knowing that they had to keep the trail warm if they were to save the two white women.
The sound of his name brought Evil Smellin back from his reverie.
"Well, Smellin', seems agreed - we'l1 try it your way" 'Geddon was saying, "let's eat some pem, then split."
It was decided that Geddon would take 2 men and go round the Indians. The others would move in as soon as the snow stopped, which would not be far a couple of hours. The Mountainmen had no sure knowledge of how many Commanches there were with the women, the sign reading, some dozen or so. After a last instruction to be cautious, and good luck wishes all round the three men disappeared into the whiteness.
Somewhere far off of a wolf howled.........
From Planning To Action
With those chilling words, which mark the beginning of all our scenarios, the whole thing moves from planning into action. This was the situation we had set up to play as a game, Mike Bell and I. We played it on a very simple terrain, a white sheet with rocks from the garden some large Britains trees, and a sprinkling of flour, which make excellent snow. Sprinkle it on from a sieve and it creates the perfect effect. Deep snow drifts we had to imagine, but they would be more in the way of unexpected surprises produced by the rules anyway.
We played it the way we play many of our games, splitting the Mountain Men between us, and then operating the Indians through the rules, so we were both playing against the rules more than against each other. We find this is more fun than each taking a side, but obviously you can do it that way, and could have more than 2 people playing.
Dramatis Personae
To help you re-play this game, here are the cast lists; obviously they are designed for our rules, so you'll need to modify them to fit in with the details of yours, but there should be enough to give you the flavour of the character and therefore how to play him. The Comanche are rather less fleshed out than the Mountain Men - inevitable really given the nature of the campaign.
The 2 tables set out all the characters involved in the game, along with the weapons carried and a brief pen-picture. Obviously you could use your own Mountain Men and Indian characters for the protagonists instead of ours if you have them. You could even change the Indian nation and the Whitemen too - they could be Texas Rangers or US Cavalry, depending on what figures you have available.
You will need a couple of figures to represent the 2 kidnapped women too, of course. We also had the Indian's ponies handy in case they appeared mounted - as some did. Again, this is a variable you need to build into your random generation rules. The Mountain Men need a big dog or wolf figure too, for Tres Pattes, the half-wild wolf, if you stick that close to our story. The Mountain Men we positioned at the start of the game in the 2 groups, as shown on the sketch-map.
The Indians were generated randomly - you can use any rules device you like for this. We have a little sub-set of our rules we call the RAGE [for RANdom GENeration] rules which cover most situations.
As long as the players have no control over where the Indians appear, its fine. Don't worry if the results seem "unreal", ie they pop up close to or behind the Mountain Men - if you've ever been out in a snow storm you know that it can happen just like that!
There has to be a Risk element in moving across the snow covered ground too. This needs to be greater on the slopes of the gully, of course, where deeper cuts may have been filled with snow level with the surrounding ground, ready to fool the unwary - and even Mountainmen Men get it wrong sometimes! [I once jumped into a 15 foot snow drift and then burrowed my way out at the bottom - it was amazing because once you're in there you have no idea which way is out!]. The basic risk we use is 10%, but in this scenario we upped it to 25% on the slopes. This meant that a throw under these percentages would result in the person involved stumbling and falling, either just onto the ground or into a deeper drift - again, we decided this by a simple dice throw, 25-75% just a fall; 76%-99% a deeper drift; 100% an even greater disaster. All these risks apply to both sides, though you might want to lower the chances for the Indians if they are from a nation likely to be familiar with moving over snow - we decided that Comanch probably wouldn't be. Visibility also needs some modifiers - obviously with swirling snow all around it would be restricted. What we do in this situation is throw a dice, having decided what a maximum visibility might be that day. So, it its 24 yards [inches in our rules] we would through 4 6x dice, add the scores up and that's the distance that can be seen, minimum of 4" and maximum of 24".
Back To The Story
OK, now back to the story and how the game played out for us. Here is the second extract from the Chronicles. As you will see, it didn't work our well for the Mountain Men…
Into The White Unknown
Armageddon led Boy Jack and Irish Joe away around the small valley, looping east, crossing an iced up stream which formed a steep gully and ran into the valley. They climbed up the farther southern slope to enable them to move in from the south. He took his big wolf, Tres Patas , too. Pierre O'Hara, Evil Smellin Johnson, Red Coat and Bayou Battelier stayed on the northern slope, ready to move on down from that direction on the unsuspecting Indians.
The snowstorm continued, at times completely cutting visibility, at others easing up to allow some view ahead, but rarely more than 10-20 yards at best. Geddon led as his smaller group moved through a small clump of trees.
"Boy, you stay here an' cover us from the trees, whilst Joe & me crosses over the open patch. We'll move on down through the bushes there, to the big black rock. Then we'll wait for you. OK?" Geddon said to Boy Jack.
Geddon & Irish Joe moved cautiously on across the open ground between the trees and the scrub, hampered by the thick carpet of snow. Geddon reached the scrub and then covered Irish Joe as he crossed the clear patch. Meanwhile at the northern end the other four men were also making difficult progress through the snow as they moved into attacking positions above the valley. Not knowing where the Indians were meant slow and cautious progress with both eyes skinned for any movement or sign.
Whilst the other three moved south around some rocks, Evil Smelling Johnson went north, through a small clump of fir trees. Unfortunately he missed his footing, slid a couple of yards down the slope and straddled one of the pines. The impact brought him double misfortune - first it severely bruised his gonads, but, worst of all for him, it brought a shower of snow down on top of him, thereby giving him the nearest thing to a bath he'd had in years. The others were not doing much better, as O'Hara had stumbled in the snow too, disappeared into a snow drift and to the sound of muttered curses had to be hauled out by Bayou. Red Coat was surer footed and reached some scrub without incident, from which he could get good views of the valley in the gaps in the snow storm.
It was at this point that the Mountain Man's plan started to go wrong. As Irish Joe reached the cover of the scrub, so a mounted Commanche appeared just down the slope off to Joe's right. The Indian was obviously returning to the others and was following what little trail there was along the upper reaches of the stream. The two men saw each other at the same instant through swirling snow. Irish knew that a shot would ruin the chance of a surprise attack, but equally if the Indian reached his companions the game would be up. He hauled out his tomahawk, swung and threw. To his horror he saw that only the handle was flying towards the Commanche - the head had come off. [See side panel for the explanation of this bizarre occurrence].The haft struck the Indian's pony, simply goading it to greater efforts and the Indian urged his pony on down the slope.
Both Indian and horse were already exhausted from their efforts in riding through the snowstorm to rejoin the band, and the extra effort proved to much for the horse. It stumbled and threw the luckless Indian, then collapsed on his legs, trapping them and breaking one. Irish was, by then, half running, half sliding down the snow covered slope, hoping to cut the Indian off at the bottom before he could reach his companions. He could hardly believe his luck when the horse and rider fell, but it was too late for him to change direction as his momentum carried him down the slope. Across on the other slope, things were hotting up too. The Mountain Men's progress, marked as it was by muttered curses and falls of snow from pine trees, had been observed and now three Indians appeared out of the swirling whiteness just to the west of the Mountain Men. One, Drythroat, had his trade musket raised already and fired at Evil Smellin'. Fortunately the ball crashed into the pine just above Johnson's head, but as he had no idea where the shot had come from, the Mountain Men dove into the snow covered scrub under the pines, gaining a further soaking in the bargain.
The other two Mountain Men, O'Hara and Bayou, were taken completely by surprise too, caught unprepared as Bayou struggled to get O'Hara out of the snow drift. The musket shot was followed by a lance hurled at Pierre. Again a benign Providence saved the Mountain Men and the weapon struck the ground inches from Pierre's feet. O'Hara swung up his rifle and fired at the Indians, but in his haste the bullet went wide of the mark.
The third Indian, Bullet Proof, armed only by his knife and tomahawk, charged forward over the rocks and jumped poor Evil Smellin' before he could fully extract himself from the scrub in which he had sought refuge. The axe arced and laid open the Mountain Men's thigh in a deep and bloody gash.
Across the valley, the sound of the shot told the three Mountain Men that the fight had begun in earnest, but they could not see what was going on. Irish Joe, in the open on the slope, decided to get down as fast as possible and adopted a sliding position to speed his descent. This was an unfortunate tactic. As he careered down the slope, bouncing along on his backside, his crotch connected with a rock hidden by the snow. And so the second set of Mountain Men's gonads took a bruising, winding poor Irish Joe and causing him to turn a full somersault before crashing to a stop at the bottom of the slope.
Armageddon had continued his move behind the black rock and had whistled the wolf off to attack the mounted Indian. The wolf reached the fallen Redskin and, fangs bared, pounced on the poor unfortunate. Meanwhile, young Boy Jack was stood like a statue in the clump of trees, frozen in confusion, not knowing what to do. Should he charge down the slope after the fallen Indian or stay where he was in case more appeared? For the moment he could do no more than stand glued to the spot.
The other non-participant in events so far was Red Coat. Hidden in the brush, out of sight of the three closest Commanches, he realised that he must move down into the gully to find the women before the Indians, fearing an overwhelming attack, killed them. As he set off, so a new development caused him to pause momentarily. In the gully bottom two mounted Indians appeared, one with a white woman across his horse in front of him. Both were moving towards the rocky path above the frozen stream. With a wild yell the Delaware raised his tomahawk, clutched in his right hand, and struggled forward through the snow. The Commanches, hearing the shout, looked up. Then one, a warrior called Hole-in-the-Back, dug his heels into his pony and charged up the slope towards Red Coat. As they met, war lance and tomahawk flashed. The Commanche rode on with a minor wound to his leg, whilst Red Coat's right arm was similarly slashed open.
Then the Mountain Men's luck seemed to begin to turn in their favour. Braided Locks, having thrown his lance, ran towards the Mountain Men. Bayou shouldered his rifle, squeezed the trigger and when the smoke cleared the Commanche lay sprawled in the snow, blood from a hole in his chest staining the white carpet red. Behind the two Mountain Men, Bullet Proof had left the prone body of Evil Smellin' and appeared behind them. O'Hara swung round as the Indian appeared, ready to fight.
On the other slope, for a moment it looked as if the Mountain Men were going to succeed. Irish Joe stood up, clutching his scrotum with one hand and drawing his knife with the other, ready to move across and finish the trapped Indian who had already been savaged by the wolf. Geddon had seen the Indian with the white woman, and knowing that he could not reach them on foot had thrown all caution and concern for his own life aside and leapt on to the great black rock. From that vantage point he levelled his Baker rifle for an easy shot to down the Commanches pony. Sighting on the beast he squeezed the trigger. Instead of the loud explosion in his ear and the vicious kick of the butt against his shoulder, there was just a click and a quiet pop. The gun had misfired at the critical moment.
In the confusion he had not checked the priming after carrying the piece in the snowstorm. This might prove a fatal error as far as the captives were concerned. Throwing the rifle aside he hauled out his horse pistol and ran up the slippery rock face to take another bead on the Commanche as he rode on to escape. From this point on the Mountain Men's luck evaporated completely. As Geddon ran up the treacherous rock face, heedless of risk, below him were the final two Commanches. One was, even at that moment, drawing back the bowstring and sighting an arrow at Irish Joe.
The other had his musket levelled at 'Geddon's vast bulk. The arrow sped into the unsuspecting Irish Joe's back, felling him on the spot. The bullet was less well aimed and crashed into the rock beside Geddon's feet, but this was enough to distract the Mountain Man momentarily, allowing the mounted Commanche to gain further ground. Geddon saw the threat below him, with the other Indian notching a second arrow and the Indian with the musket beginning to clamber up the rock beneath his feet. Without hesitation he turned again towards the fleeing Commanche with his white prisoner and levelled the pistol. This would be the last chance to stop the Indian, he now knew, because he could see Irish Joe's body sprawled in the snow below the rocks.
Meanwhile, over on the north slope, the Mountain Men were also taking a beating. Hole-in-the-Back had waged a one man war on the Whitemen. First he had ridden up on Bayou and stuck him in the leg. Then, without stopping his mad ride, he caught Pierre from behind as he fought with Bullet Proof. His lance plunged deep into the Mountain Man's unprotected back and he went down. With a scream of triumph the Indian wheeled his pony, looking for further white blood to spill. Evil Smellin' stumbled to his feet at just that moment. The Indian saw him and, lance levelled, urged his pony towards the Mountain Man. The horse took a few steps, caught a whiff of the Mountain Man and reared up as if it had trodden on a rattler.
Even to an Indian pony, Evil Selling's personal aroma was too much. Struggling with his mount, the Indian laughed and shouted to the Mountain Man to throw down his gun if he wished to live. Seeing none of his companions on their feet, Evil Smellin' saw the soundness of the proposal, dropped his rifle in the snow and slumped down on a rock clutching his bleeding leg and muttering profanities.
And what of the drama over on Black Rock itself? 'Geddon was poised on top of the ugly great rocky outcrop, his finger on the trigger about to fire the last shot of the battle which might just save the white woman if he could bring the pony or it's rider down. The swirling snow cleared for a moment and 'Geddon could see his target. His nearly frozen finger squeezed the trigger for what would have been a difficult shot at the best of times because of the danger of hitting the woman, made more so by the distraction of his knowing that just below his feet two Indians intent on his destruction. His finger tightened and the crash and cloud of smoke told him that this time the powder was dry, but in the same instant a searing pain in his left leg caused him to stumble and fall headfirst on the rock. The source of the pain was an arrow fired by the Commanch with the bow below the rock. As he fell he saw, to his dismay, that his last desperate play had failed and the shot has missed it's mark.
That was the end of the fight. Boy Jack, up on the slope in the trees could no longer see anything that was going on in the gully as the snowstorm closed in once more. He remained rooted to the spot and that was where Red Coat and Bayou Battelier found him, almost frozen to death slumped against a tree. They had made good their escape in the storm and had come looking for him, fearing the worst.
Gathering Boy Jack up they headed back to rejoin the main party of Mountain Men and report their sorry tale. Not only had they failed to release the two women but four Mountain Men, Armageddon Smith, Pierre O'Hara, Evil Smelling Johnson and Irish Joe Meehan, were also now captives of the Commanche, if they had not been killed already. It had indeed been a bad day at Black Rock.
After Thoughts
The game had been great fun, even though we lost! And now we had the next scenario all ready set up for us - another rescue attempt, which would need to be better planned and involve more Mountain men if it was going to succeed. Actually, things didn't quite work out that way, but more of that another time.
Much of the fun came from the hapless performance of the Mountain Men in the snow, and the amazing bad luck, ie duff dice throws, they made at crucial moments in the game. But then, to us, that's what its all about - enjoying it all going wrong as much as it all going right!
INJURY FROM FALLS TABLE
The table can be used for any event that might result in injury; falling or being thrown from a horse, building etc, being struck by a moving vehicle or animal, rock etc. this applies to involuntary falls etc, if a character jumps, use their Agility Ability first and the Injury table only if they fail their Agility roll. Throw 2 decimal dice:
- % Score Result
0 - 2 Dead
3 - 10 Knocked Out
11 - 15 Serious Right Arm Wound
16 - 20 Serious Left Arm Wound
21 - 25 Serious Leg Wound
26 - 30 Light Body Wound
32 - 35 Light Left Arm Wound
36 - 40 Light Right Arm Wound
41 - 45 Light Head Wound
46 - 99 OK - on the ground, test Reaction in order to get back into the game
100 Disaster! - think of some appropriate ones and dice for one
Note: the 100 Disaster Role has to be a natural score, ie it must be the actual dice score thrown, not the result of additions or subtractions. Any such modified score counts as 99.
Modifiers
Add or subtract from the dice score for these situations:
To mollify the effect, the character can choose to use their Agility Ability:
if the character passes, add 10% to the score; if they fail, deduct 20%
Add 30% if drunk or unconscious
Deduct 30% if galloping
Deduct 10% if loping
Deduct 5% for every 3 feet above 6 feet, ie for 9 feet deduct 5%, for 12 feet deduct 10% and so on
More Bad Day at Black Rock
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