I recently introduced Dave to the joys of Silver Bayonet.
For those who don’t know what Silver Bayonet is, it’s a skirmish game of Napoleonic Gothic Horror for 1 or more players. It’s recently seen a massive increase in gaming clubs thanks to Peachy and his awesome battle reports.
Wanting to engage Dave as much as I could, I also painted up a unit of Austrians for him to use in the game. We kept the various profiles to a minimum and had a number of infantrymen, a Sapper, and an officer. This would allow us to focus more on the rules instead of looking up different abilities all the time.
Pre-Game
Dave didn’t know too much about Silver Bayonet, so the first thing we did was to set up his officer, who he named Franz Schweinsteiger.
Going through the setup of the officer, a player has a few bonuses they can give to them before the start of a campaign. Dave chose to increase his melee, health, and courage.
He also equipped Franz with two Pistols, a Breastplate, fencing weapon, oil and torches and made the fencing weapon a cold iron weapon.
The Forest of Doubt
Captain Franz Schweinsteiger, officer of the Austrian Empire, stood at the edge of the darkened forest, his hand resting uneasily on the hilt of his sabre. The dense trees loomed before him, shrouded in a thick mist that clung to the ground like a ghostly veil. It was early morning, but the sunlight barely penetrated the dense canopy above, leaving the woods in an eerie twilight. Behind him, his men shuffled nervously, their usual bravado dampened by the foreboding atmosphere.
A messenger had arrived at dawn, his horse covered in sweat and foam, bearing grave news. A unit under the command of Captain Dietrich had been sent into this very forest the previous day, tasked with locating a small chapel.
Franz found it strange why the Austrian army would be interested in such a location, but his friend Dietrich always followed his orders.
Dietrich’s unit was to report back with its exact location so the Austrian forces could secure it before the French. But Dietrich’s unit had not returned.
Now, the task fell to Franz and his men.
Colonel von Ried had made it clear. “Captain Schweinsteiger, your orders are to find Captain Dietrich’s unit and, more importantly, retrieve their orders. The chapel’s location must not fall into French hands. Understand?”
Franz nodded sharply. He didn’t agree with the missing orders. After all, what importance could a chapel serve the Austrian Empire in the war effort. But his friend, Dietrich, he would find.
“Yes, sir. We will leave immediately.”
And so here they were, standing in the depths of the forest. Franz turned to face his men, his face calm, though inside he felt a creeping unease.
“Listen closely.” Franz began, his voice firm but low, mindful of the strange echo that seemed to carry through the forest. “Dietrich and his men have gone missing in these woods. Our task is to find them and bring them back.”
The soldiers nodded, their faces serious, though the fear was evident in their eyes.
“Sergeant Müller, take the left flank. Weiss, you’re on the right. Keep your men tight and your eyes sharp. The rest of you, stay close and follow me. We move swiftly and silently. No unnecessary noise, and no lights. If we encounter anything, anything at all, you signal me immediately. Understood?”
“Yes, Captain!” the men responded in unison, though their voices were muted, as if the forest itself had stolen their breath.
With a final nod, Franz drew his sabre, its blade catching what little light pierced the gloom. He turned towards the forest, steeling himself for the unknown. The trees closed in around them as they advanced, the air growing colder and the mist thicker with each step.
As they delved deeper into the forest, the sounds of the outside world faded away, replaced by the oppressive silence of the woods. The soldiers moved cautiously, their boots sinking into the soft, damp earth, the only sound the occasional rustle of leaves underfoot.
Time seemed to stretch, and Franz had no idea how long they had been walking when they came across the first sign of trouble. A broken branch, a piece of torn fabric clinging to it, unmistakably from an Austrian uniform. Franz crouched down, examining the cloth. The blood on it was fresh.
“We’re close,” he whispered to Müller, who had come to stand beside him. The sergeant nodded, his hand tightening around his musket.
The mist thickened as they pressed on, and soon, they came upon a small clearing. The sight before them made Franz’s heart sink. The remnants of Captain Dietrich’s unit were scattered across the ground, their bodies cold and lifeless, their faces twisted in expressions of pain and terror. Their bodies had been mangled as if by wild animals.
Franz knelt by one of the fallen soldiers, a young man whose name he couldn’t recall. He closed the soldier’s eyes and muttered a quick prayer. They had been attacked —no doubt about it, but by what? And where were the orders?
He signalled his men to fan out and search the area. They moved quickly, driven by the urgency of their mission, yet careful not to disturb the scene more than necessary. Time was of the essence, but they couldn’t afford to miss anything.
Franz heard a howl. Wolf, Franz thought. Soon after, it was joined by further howls. Franz was shocked. Wolves were not known to attack groups of men. “Men, on me!” He called. Finding the ruins of an abandoned building, the men regrouped inside.
The Game
After an hour of the wolves pacing around the ruins and the Austrians becoming increasingly nervous, Franz makes a call.
“You three, with me” Franz calls to the closest three infantrymen. Darting out of the ruined doorway, the four men rush towards the closest of Dietrich’s fallen men, while the three infantrymen lay down covering fire Franz runs to the body. Two wolves howl in pain and fall to the disciplined fire of the men. Shots ring out from the ruins as the rest of the unit tries to hold the wolves back. Another yelp of pain in the distance.
The wolves stalk closer, keeping to the shadows.
“Sir, these are no normal wolves!” Shouts one of the men.
Turning the corpse over, Franz finds the soldier wearing an unusual silver medallion around his neck. Franz takes the medallion from his neck, hoping that someone back at the camp will be able to remember the soldiers name by the distinctive jewellery.
Two wolves dart from the trees on the far side of the ruins and attack the men at the edge, one wolf is bludgeoned to death by the butt of a musket while the other takes a chunk from a man’s arm before darting back to the tree line.
Franz watches as fire continues to ring out, two more wolves fall. Taking the opportunity, he runs to where the wolves lay fallen and searches another of Dietrich’s men, finding a bag of what looks to be silver shot.
Curiouser and curiouser, Franz thinks. He pockets the silver shot, hoping to ask the supply officer about it.
The three men that had accompanied him advanced southwards through the woods in a group, trying to clear and scare the wolves away from the corpses of Dietrich’s men, firing shots into the gloom as they go.
Sergeant Müller leads his men out of the ruins, as they advanced the injured man takes aim and kills another wolf in the treeline.
In the distance, more howls arise. It’s becoming clear that this is a very large and unusual pack. He hears Müller cry out.
Sergeant Müller reaches the nearest corpse and begins searching the body. A low growl begins in the shadows nearby and grows in intensity. Looking up Müller sees a dark shadow standing on two legs coming towards him.
Rising to his feet, the old Sapper takes out his heavy axe. The shadow charges at him, and a large claw tears at his arm. He swings his axe and hears a yelp of pain from the figure. It backs away. He reels in horror as he sees the figure has the head of a wolf and is covered in fur but is standing.
Nearby, another wolf falls as the men continue firing at the dark shapes prowling the tree line. None of the other men seem to notice the beast, being too focused on their own personal battles.
A shot rings out, and the wolf-man staggers backwards. Another shot, and the figure falls to the floor bleeding. Franz comes through the trees from behind Müller. “What the hell is going on here sir?!” Says Müller. “I’ve no idea, but I suspect the Colonel knows a little more than what he’s told us,” Franz replies “But I think I know why Dietrich’s men had so much silver on them. Tell me Müller, do you believe in Werewolves?”
The wolves back off a little further into the treeline as the musket shots continue to take a toll on their numbers.
“Sir, I’ve found Captain Dietrich” one of his men calls.
Rushing over, they find Captain Dietrich lying in the undergrowth. The poor Captain had been disembowelled by some wild animal and his insides eaten. Saddened by the death of this friend, Franz searches his remains, and finding the orders in Dietrich’s satchel, Franz and his men regroup. Aside from a few minor injuries, his unit had suffered no losses.
More howls in the distance, but Franz and his men retreat back through the forest towards the Austrian lines staying close together, the wolves stalk behind them but make no further attacks after losing so many of their number.
Post Game
That was insane, Dave was rolling hot from the very first turn with his first three of four shots all hitting and all rolling higher than 8 on the power die. One shotting wolves all over the place, he’d killed 4 four on the first turn alone. It really helped in the later game as Dave could focus on having a few members searching for clues while the others kept killing the wolves who turned up. When the Werewolf turned up, his officer, who had found three clues, was fully kitted out that it wasn’t much of a problem for him.
It’s always the way, though. The orders weren’t uncovered until they reached the final clue marker.
Post Game Story
The air inside Colonel Von Reid’s tent was thick with the acrid scent of tobacco smoke, mingling with the earthy aroma of damp soil from the surrounding camp. A single oil lamp flickered, casting wavering shadows across the maps and reports strewn haphazardly on the wooden table. Schweinsteiger stood rigid, his face flushed with anger, the tension in his shoulders palpable. Across from him, Colonel Von Ried leaned back in his chair, a weary yet knowing expression etched into his features.
“Colonel, I demand to know why my unit was not informed about the existence of these… these creatures!” Schweinsteiger’s voice rang with frustration, sharp as a blade. “We could have been better prepared. Two of my men are injured, and Captain Dietrich and his men were lost to those beasts!”
Von Ried sighed, steepling his fingers as he regarded Schweinsteiger with a mixture of sympathy and resolve. The weight of unspoken truths hovered in the air between them.
“Franz, I understand your anger. But you must realise that the supernatural is not something we speak of lightly. It is a matter long buried beneath layers of secrecy and disbelief,” he replied, his tone measured. “Would you have believed me If I had told you?” he continued.
“A matter of secrecy?” Schweinsteiger clenched his fists, his knuckles white. “My men were ambushed! We fought for our lives against creatures of legend, and I had no idea what I was facing! Silver shot—where was the warning?”
Von Ried leaned forward, his voice firm but calm. “The truth is, the higher-ups have kept the knowledge of the supernatural hidden. They fear panic among the ranks. But we are soldiers, Franz, and we must face the reality of what lurks in the shadows.”
Schweinsteiger’s eyes narrowed, the anger simmering beneath the surface. “So you admit it. You knew of these creatures and chose to keep us ignorant. How many more lives have been lost because of this silence?”
The colonel paused, his gaze piercing through the dim light, heavy with the burden of his own regrets. “More lives than I care to count. We’ve encountered the unnatural before—vampires, ghouls, and yes, werewolves. Each time, the orders were to maintain discretion. But discretion has its price.”
“And what is that price?” Schweinsteiger’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “The lives of my men? Dietrich was my friend, Colonel. His blood is on your hands.”
Von Ried’s expression softened, the hard lines of his face etched with regret. “Dietrich knew what he was up against. He’d fought these creatures many times before. His sacrifice was not in vain, I promise you that. We must adapt to this reality if we are to survive. From now on, you will be briefed on the supernatural threats we face. But you must also understand the risks of speaking out. Not everyone will believe you.”
“Then I will be their voice, Colonel. They deserve to know what they’re up against. The next time we face such a horror, we will be ready.”
Von Ried nodded, a flicker of respect crossing his features. “In fact, I have a proposal for you. I want you to form a specialised unit to combat these supernatural threats. Dietrich led such a unit before, but now he and his men have been lost, and we need an experienced unit to replace them. You will not be alone. You will have allies.”
“Allies? Who?” Schweinsteiger raised an eyebrow, curiosity piercing through his anger.
“First, there is a half-human, half-vampire named Alaric. He possesses unique abilities that can be very useful against our enemies. He walks the line between darkness and light, and his knowledge of supernatural creatures is unparalleled.”
“A vampire?” Schweinsteiger frowned, skepticism creeping into his voice. “Can we trust him?”
“He has proven himself time and again. He has a stake in this war, just as we do. You’ll also have a skilled light cavalryman named Lucian. His speed and agility will be invaluable in scouting and surprise attacks.”
Schweinsteiger considered the implications, the weight of responsibility settling even more heavily on his shoulders. “And what will our first mission be?”
“Your orders are to locate the hidden chapel in the forest. It is rumored to house sacred relics, silver artifacts that could be used against the supernatural. You will need to find these relics and bring them back.”
Schweinsteiger nodded resolutely, determination igniting within him. “We will find this chapel and recover those relics. My men will be ready.”
“Remember,” Von Ried cautioned, “knowledge is a weapon, and sometimes, the hardest battles are fought in the minds of those who don’t want to believe. Prepare yourself and your unit. We will meet this darkness together.”
As Schweinsteiger turned to leave, he felt a newfound sense of purpose igniting within him. The shadows of the forest had followed him back to camp, but now, armed with knowledge and allies, he would not let fear dictate his path. The battle against the unknown had only just begun.
