August 18, 1773Edit

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, the incident at the harbor was inexcusable but once we find those responsible, then and only then can the 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. Lest 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 conclusion 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 was assembled to go over just what exactly was to happen.

“Right, lads I can’t stress how important this is to the Governor that we find 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 was 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 in to the woods in their search, captain beginning to realize the stamina of his men had been depleted. So he decided to halt the search and rest for the night before traveling onward.

The Woods

The Woods

“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, its bad enough it’s dark out. Don’t need either of you tryin’ to beat the other to a pulp again,” said Benjamin (a Riflemen) 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.

Upon reaching their comrade the troop discovered a gruesome sight. The light from the full moon revealed two children lying 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 Riflemen) 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 well earned sleep.”

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 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. Far 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 about. The troop approached a small farm belonging to an elder man and woman around the ages of 40 to 45.

“Good day, kind sir might 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 farmers wife. Oliver the only one not doing anything and feeling sorry for the Man and Wife stood there with a saddend look on his face for he knew anyone that would insult the Proctor is fair 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 and 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.


By this point the man’s anger had now turned to rage as red as the troops' coats and still continued to furiously struggle against Paul and Edgar. His screams and threats grew louder and more violent toward the troop. But the old farmer did not phase the Captain in the least bit. Instead the Captain grabbed hold of the Wife and dragged her inside the farmhouse.

“You 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.


As the Captain entered the house dragging the poor farmer’s wife, she kicked and pleaded with the Captain to stop and reconsider his actions. The next few minutes put the old man to tears as screams and cries came from his wife inside the house. After an hour or so her cries fell silent, and not too long after the cries had ceased a gunshot was 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, still crying uncontrollably over loss of his poor now late-wife, behind the house to execute him.

“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…” stuttered 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 residents 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 spotted 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. 

The Burning House

The farmhouse set ablaze.

“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 night's rest? Piss off,” snapped back Robert.

The Wolves

Night time in the woods

“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 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 affection to those he 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 moves 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 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 the men 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 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 enter this neck of the woods, 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.

The men ran as fast as they could to Oliver’s position as quickly as their legs allowed them, tripping over jutting branches and boscage. Once they had reached the drummer's position they were at a loss and excited. Here lay 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 comrades 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 bollocks did that wanker go?” questioned Paul

“Split up and look for him. And watch your surroundings men, these are dangerous woods,” told 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 a sudden, there was a loud shriek. “EEEEEHHHHAAAAA!” 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, and a small harpoon sticking out of his chest, swaying back and forth as if he were just 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.

“NNOOO!!” blared an angry Paul.

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

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

“Gentlemen we can not remain here there is obviously something in these woods,” said Edgar

Dark Woods - End of the Road

Lost without direction

Now the men were in a state of panic and frantically trying to escape the mossy covered woods 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 really help us at this point? Really?”

“I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care how, I just need 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 troop.

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

“You will not leave here alive,” said the figure. 

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.

Scarface 231 (talk) 20:15, October 7, 2014 (UTC) OC

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