August 18, 1773

Our story takes place inside an office located at the heart of the city. In the office stand a handful of men. Most of which are dressed as soldiers and guardsmen known for protecting the city.

“War, yes gentlemen we are talking about war. I know what you are thinking. Good lord, it won’t come down to war, the people rely on us and our goods too much to afford to go to war. Sure that incident at the harbor was inexcusable, but once we find those responsible, then and only then can their punishment bring the natural balance back into this mess we call a city,” announced the Governor.

“Sir you mustn’t forget that there are groups of rebels out and about conspiring against us. Less word gets out that we can not maintain order amongst our own subjects, we should put our prime focus on gatherings of people in the city as well as the towns westward,” said a colonel.

“I agree my lord. The people are getting quite bold in their talks against our regulations,” added another officer.

“Well then, you lads know just how to break up their little get-togethers. I suggest that you begin right away. Also, send a troop to investigate what happened to our missing wagons we sent last week. We should’ve gotten word back by now. I fear something or someone might have gotten to them.” said the Governor with a troubled sound to his voice.

“You don’t suppose that it were brigands? Do you sir?” inquired one of the lieutenants.

“Rubbish! If I were to wager, I’d say it were those damned Natives. Trying to spark something between us and those frog cock munching French!” exclaimed the other lieutenant.

“I can’t say for sure. But we mustn’t jump to conclusions just yet. Proctor?!”

“Here my Lord!” answered one of the captains in the back.

“You will lead a troop on the investigation of my missing wagon supplies. Is that understood?”

“Aye sir. My men and I will get to the bottom of it.”

The City

The City

As the night drew later the meeting dispersed and the soldiers were sent back to their posts and barracks. The next day, a troop of men were assembled to go over just what exactly was to happen.

“Right, Lads I can’t stress how important it is to the Governor that we find out what has been done with the supplies that he has sent. Doubly so important to me, being this is my first mission as troop leader. I expect total obedience from all of you! Are we clear?” requested the newly appointed Captain Proctor.

Six men in strong confidence responded in unison with, “Sir, yes sir!” Each of the men were quite strong, rough and tough as nails, or so they liked to think. They all thought themselves capable of becoming personal guards to King George himself. Formed up in the standard ranking for a troop: Captain upfront, accompanied by two Grenadiers followed with three Riflemen and one Drummer. As they started out of the city, the men were in high hopes of finding the Governor’s missing wagon. So too was the Captain, believing that only he can bring back the supplies and receive a handsome reward for fulfilling such a task.

As the hours flew by and day turned to night. The men grew increasingly cautious of the forest and the dangers that it provided. They had traveled deep into the woods in their search, and beginning to realize the stamina of his men had been depleted, the Captain decided to halt the search and rest for the night before traveling onward.

“Keep a watchful eye for wolves. They’ve been known to attack people passing by in this area,” warned the Captain.

“I hope I find one. Then we can have ourselves a little feast tonight,” said Edgar, one of the Grenadiers.

“You know, one of these times you’re gonna meet a challenge that even you won’t be able to handle Edgar,” replied Paul, one of the three brothers in the troop.

“What you trying to say Paul? Jealous cause you still can’t take me down mate?”

“Oh, knock it off, the both of you, it's bad enough it’s dark out. Don’t need either of you tryin’ to beat the other to a pulp again,” said Benjamin (a Rifleman) trying to prevent another fight between the two brutes.

“Oi! Come take a look at this!” yelled one of the other riflemen named Robert, brother to Paul. 

The Woods

The Forest

Upon reaching their comrade, the troop discovered a gruesome sight. The light from the full moon revealed two children laying dead in front of them. Their bodies looked as if to had been clawed by some vicious animal. Some of the men turned their heads as soon as they saw the scene. Oliver, the drummer, took a few steps in the other direction to try and keep down the day’s meal.

“Good lord, it appears they were victims to wolves or a bear,” uttered the Captain.

“We should give them a proper burial,” said Walter (the last Rifleman) the third and youngest of the three brothers.

“I agree,” nodded the Captain. “Paul, you and Robert take care of them. Edgar, you stand watch and the rest of you get some rest.”

The six men followed their captain’s orders, as Paul and Robert finished the graves. Edgar heard a faint sound coming far from the encampment.

“Did you blokes hear that?”

“What you yammering on about now Ed?” asked Robert.

“Never mind.”

“Probably some bear eyeing you down there, Ed. Ain’t that right, Robert,” jeered Paul.

“Ha, ha. Joke all you want, I know I heard something.”

The night faded away and the sun arose. Off in the distance a crow from a rooster could be heard by Oliver, as he was always a light sleeper. The others awoke and decided it was high time for some breakfast, so they marched down in the direction of the crow that Oliver told them about. The troop approached a small farm belonging to an elder man and woman around the ages of 45 to 40.

“Good day, kind sir. Could we trouble you for some food and drink?” asked the Captain.

“Go away! We don’t serve Redcoats in these parts. Especially to some poppycocks such as yourselves,” snapped the old man.

Angered by the old man’s refusal to give any food to the king’s soldiers, the Captain ordered Edgar and Paul to restrain the man while Robert, Benjamin, and Walter went in the farmhouse to take what they required. As Walter and Benjamin came out with food and ales, Robert came out with the farmer's wife. Oliver, the only one not doing anything and feeling sorry for the man and wife, stood there with a saddened look on his face, for he knew that anyone that insults the Proctor is free game for his array of punishment. Unlike Oliver, the others know full well what it means to cross the Captain, and no punishment is too far for the captain. In a rage, the old man struggles against the brutes to reach for his wife, but the two men are more than capable in keeping the poor fellow in his place.

“Now, old boy. Since you find it your bloody right to reject us, the King’s men, a proper meal and above all insult us! What pray tell should be a suitable punishment?” said Captain Proctor with an evil sound to his voice.

“If you touch my wife, I’ll tear your goddamn heads off!” shouted the old man, getting angrier and angrier by the second.

“Maybe we cut out his tongue, for his nasty language Cap’n,” answered Edgar.

“I’ll kill you bastards!”

“Or maybe…”

In that moment, the Captain took out his cold sword and walked toward the farmer’s wife. With a awful look in his eye as if he were meant to cut her down in front of the old man.

“Don't you dare touch her!!”

By this point, the man’s anger has now turned to rage, as red as the troops coats, and still continues to furiously struggle against Paul and Edgar. His screams and threats grow louder and more violent toward the troop, but the old farmer does not phase the Captain in the least bit. Instead, the Captain grabs hold of the wife and drags her inside the farmhouse.

“Your men will not allow anyone in the house until I have arrived back from our guest’s soon to be wonderful hospitality. Understood?” demanded the Captain.

“I will carve out your hearts! You unholy devils!” 

As the Captain entered the house, dragging the poor farmer’s wife, she kicked and pleaded for the Captain to stop and reconsider his actions. The next few minutes put the old man to tears, as screams and cries come from the woman in the house. After an hour or so, her cries had fell silent, and not too long after the cries had ceased a gunshot was soon heard. At this moment the old man was weeping for fear of the worst. The Captain emerged from the farmhouse with a splatter of blood on his leggings. The old man, now sobbing and wailing, cried for the troop to put an end to his life.

“You heard him, you two, get to it,” declared the captain.

“Aye sir,” said Edgar and Paul.

The two brutes drug the old man behind the house to execute him, still crying uncontrollably over the loss of his poor wife.

“Sir!” shouted Oliver in the direction of the Captain.

Oliver, now horrified and disgusted with what his Captain had just done, yelled to his leader as if to scorn a child for doing an unthinkable action.

“Well? What do you want?” the Captain asked, demanding a response.

“Sir…. Was…. Was that really…” shuddered Oliver, but was abruptly interrupted.

“You know full well that to hold a lower rank or not hold one at all and cross me is to not go unpunished. Should I hear this insubordinate tone again, I’ll have you mule packing everyone's supplies until our trip is over! Is that Clear!?” said the Captain in a stern voice.

“Yes, sir.”

With the Captain’s lecture to Oliver finished, the Captain commanded his men to round up the supplies and burn the house to the ground. Robert and Oliver gathered all the food they could carry. Paul and Walter made torches to throw into the house. Edgar and Benjamin stood watch for anyone passing by and would give them the overused excuse of; rebellious propaganda against the King was found, causing the residence to be executed and the house burned.

The fire could be seen for miles away, and the men packed up and continued in their search for the missing wagon. As Captain Proctor gave his men the order to march, he looked back to the fiery blaze that now consumed the house. He had noticed a figure off in the distance. It had looked to be a man-like figure, but was too far out to get a good glimpse. He had thought nothing of it, but as turned his head, he spot an eagle circling around almost as if to catch a prey. The eagle let out a loud screech and began to fly in the direction he thought he saw the figure.

“Move it,” let out the Captain with a nervous sound to his voice.

“Sir, is everything alright?” questioned Paul.

“Never you mind. We must hurry. The Governor will surely be displeased with our lack of results for today, no thanks to that blaggard of an old man.”

“Aye sir.”

Another day passed by, and still no leads or traces on the missing wagon. It seemed as though the troop would need to spend another day in the woods. The men set up another camp just a couple miles away from the now burnt down farmhouse. Howls could be heard as a pack of wolves sang to the moon on a nearby mountain. It gave the men an uneasy feeling and made it that much tougher to fall a sleep.

“Bloody wolves. We should let off a couple of shots, scare ‘em away and put an end to that damned howling,” complained Robert.

“Yeah, and while we’re at it, lets tell the whole pack to come and give us a kiss good night. Come off it, you fool,” replied Walter.

“You idiot. If you go shooting your gun off around here, you’ll tell all the savages of the forest just where we are sleeping for the night,” insulted Benjamin. “Tell me you’re not that stupid.”

“No, I just thought….”

“That’s your problem right there. You thought,” laughed Walter.

“To hell with the both of ya. Make jokes to a man that just wants to get a good nights rest? Piss off,” snapped back Robert.

“What are you men doing?” asked the Captain.

“Sorry, sir, we were just having a laugh. That's all,” said Benjamin.

“Well knock it off, the lot of ya. Lights out.”

“Yes sir,” the three men complied in unison.

The Wolves

Night time in the woods

The Captain stayed awake a little while longer, allowing Edgar to sleep until his time was up to stay watch. While the men slept, Proctor started treading away from the encampment. He walked down a narrow path and noticed a boot protruding out of a pile of brush. He crept closer only to find a body of a fellow comrade that had been tossed just off the path, as though someone had dropped him there. His body had no physical wounds or lacerations, but when he checked to find if the body possessed a pulse he couldn’t find one beat of the heart. Just then, his eye caught a letter just out of reach of the body, Proctor picked it up. What he read terrified him:

These may be my last words. To my wife and children, please take memory of me as someone who always took great care and showed affection to those who he held dearly to him. I love all of you more than you could ever know. To my superiors or anyone else that finds this; BEWARE OF THE MAN WITH THE EAGLE! He preys upon us, and with his inhuman abilities, he managed to slaughter and butcher my regiment and our convoy. Not even our Grenadiers stood much of a chance to this, this monster. He moved with great agility, he has the stamina of a wolf, and the strength of a bear. If you find yourselves in the presence of this man, dare not to encounter him. Run! Run as far and fast as your body can carry. Do not stop to look back or to help fellow comrades out. He uses that as an opportunity to slow you down and cuts the both of you down in one strike. Do not attempt to shoot him. His incredible speed allows him to take one of our men and use him as a shield to prevent our shots from hitting their mark. Just run, but if you can’t? Then you’re already dead. I can’t describe what exactly this man looks like, only that he bears an eagle on his head. Please pray for my soul and that it reaches our Lord safely. For there is no hope and no return from these deathly woods.

Thomas Bracklyn.

These words sent chills down the Captain's spine as he read them. He then began to think back to that figure he saw, and how the very thought that the figure being capable of slaying the entire troop that guarded the convoy was irrational. However, he decided to take the letter back to Mr. Bracklyn’s family and give his condolences to them, once the wagon had been confirmed by his own eyes.

The next day, the Captain had rallied up the men and gave them news of a fellow comrade that died nearby. He did not tell where, nor did he discuss the attack on the wagon addressed in the letter. He only said to stay alert, and to keep an eye open for any suspicious looking man. The troop began to travel down a darker part of the forest. These woods were different, the trees were covered in a deep green moss overgrown on the trunks, and there was a foul smell in the air. It wasn’t long before the awful odor surrounded the troop. It had been an hour since the Captain and his men had entered this neck of the woods, and by this time, Oliver had noticed a bent musket covered in blood. He stumbled in that direction due to the thick overgrowth on the ground and at once made the discovery that the Captain had been praying for.

“Sir! Over here! I found the convoy sir!” Oliver shouted in excitement.

In a hurry, the men ran to Oliver’s position as quickly as they could, tripping over jutting branches and boscage. Once they had reached the drummers position, they were at a loss and excited, Here laid the remains of the convoy, but no sign of troops or supplies, no corpses or materials scattered on the ground as you’d expect to find after scavengers had had their way with the remains. Just an abandoned wagon with moss now growing on it and a broken musket. Nothing else, not even the drummer that had let out the cry to tell his comrade where he and the wagon was.

“Oliver!?!” yelled Edgar.

“Where are ya?” hollered Robert.

“Oi! Oliver!?” let out Benjamin.

Oliver was nowhere in sight.

“Where the hell did that wanker go?” questioned Paul

“Split up and look for him. And watch your surroundings men, these are dangerous woods,” said the Captain.

“Aye, something’s got a chill in me boots,” uttered Edgar.

Even Edgar? The men knew something was up, but what? The troop split up as ordered and started searching for their missing fellow. All of the sudden, there was a loud shriek. “EEEEHHHAA!” The sound was ear piercing to the men, and it sounded as though it came from the Captain. Everyone came rushing to the scream to find a very disturbing sight. There the Captain hung from the tree with a rope wrapped around his neck his body and a small harpoon sticking out of his chest, swaying back and forth as if he had just been hung. Also, sitting at the base of the tree was Oliver with blood covering his torso and his body slumped over to hide the cut across his throat.

“Nooo!” blared an angry Paul.

“Captain? How?” said Robert in a terrified quiver.

“Who’s responsible for this!?!” yelled Benjamin.

“Gentlemen, we can't remain here. There's obviously somethin' in these woods,” said Edgar.

Now the men were in a state of panic and frantically trying to escape the mossy covered woods. but as they tried to find the path they were previously treading on, their hunt to find it proved to no avail. Feeling more and more distressed by the minute. Robert tried to break off from the group, only making it a few steps until he was tackled by Paul.

“Do you honestly think that splitting up will help us at this point? Really?”

“I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care how, I just need to get out of here,” clamored Robert.

“Stay with the troop. We’ll get out of here. Trust me, brother,” assured Paul.

“Who’s that?” said Benjamin, squinting toward the rear of the scrambled troop.

Right behind the group stood a dark figure. On his head was an imprint of an eagle sewed into his hood. In one hand he held a pistol, the other it looked like a weird triangle with a rounded bottom shaped hatchet.

Captain William Proctor
Born June 9, 1742 — Died August 21, 1773.
Private Oliver Beucrest
Born April 17, 1756 — Died August 21, 1773.
Private Benjamin Sutton
Born January 27, 1750 — Died August 21, 1773.
Corporal Edgar Johnson
Born October 13, 1745 — Died August 21, 1773.
Corporal Paul Wyatt
Born May 1, 1746 — Died August 21, 1773.
Private Robert Wyatt
Born December 19, 1749 — Died August 21, 1773.
Private Walter Wyatt
Born September 30, 1753 — Died August 22, 1773.

The details of these men's deaths are unknown still, to this day.

Written by Scarface 231
Content is available under CC BY-SA