I’ve always enjoyed a bit of swashbuckling, although everyone who knows me says I ought to leave it well alone. Since I am forbidden to leave the house with a pair of pistols and a rapier, I restrict this to toy soldiering.
The scenario involved our heroes drinking in a tavern when the sound of Trouble erupted at the other end of town, in the form of More Gunshots than Normal. It’s the C17th, and casual shooting around town is rare. What’s happening is that a group of hired villains is trying to kidnap a traveling duchess, as they do. A masked nobleman was behind the plot, as they are.
Of course, she needed help.
The town itself was protected, sort-of, by several watchmen. Two of these were dwarfs, brothers. One made every effort to foil the plot, although short legs and unimpressive combat skills hampered his efforts. His brother raced, slowly to his aid. The other watchmen went back to their own tavern. Huh.
The raid failed, between the duchess’ Retainers, the musketeers and the heroic dwarf. Cursing his bad luck and low-rent minions, the kidnapper rode away.