War in the Woods Game 6: Blood in the Pines
Sergeant Gordon, the old highlander, leaned on his halberd as the British party got into order. The soldiers tried to remain quiet with the smoke from the French and Huron fires rising less than a mile away, but leather creaked and equipment clanked all the same. The highlanders were as much a culprit as the green militia, festooned with weaponry as the Scotsmen were. He and Abercrombie, one of his senior corporals, had bickered about whether the regulars should lead or not, and if they should form in line or adopt an open order. In the end, it hadn't mattered. The fancy Dutchman insisted on taking the militia on ahead. Gordan spat as he watched them form up, wrangled between the Dutch dandy and the so-called mayor of the half-burnt village nearby. At last they got underway, marching off toward the rising smoke where their Mohawk scouts had led them. Christ, he'd seen frothing targe-wielding Jacobites with better-dressed lines. As the militiaman got out in front, Gordon glanc