Match 18589 Minutemen vs. Baba Yaga

[broadwaybeyonder]

Stephen breathed heavily as he ran and pushed past branches and brambles.  The 18-year-old held his musket tight in his grip, his eyes darting around for any sign of the enemy.  In his rush, he failed to see the tree root poking out of the ground that caught his foot and sent him sprawling face first.  Stephen moaned and scrambled to pick up his rifle.  He looked up to see his canteen being offered to him by a smiling man in his 40s, dressed in green and wearing a tricorn hat.  “Be careful there, boy,” he chuckled.  “We’re supposed to move quickly, not foolishly.”  Stephen took the canteen, picked up his hat, and accepted the man’s hand to help him to his feet.  “I’m sorry, Master Fredricks.  But Captain Fryer ordered us to get those Redcoats before they make it back to their regiment.”  Fredericks shook his head.  “Fryer is a man who lives for the sound of his own voice.  You can follow orders, Stephen, but just be careful who you are taking them from.”  Stephen shouldered the rifle and nodded.  “Yes, sir!” 

“And you don’t have to call me ‘sir’, boy.  I’m not George Washington, you know.  Come on, then.  Let’s not keep our fearless captain waiting.” 

The two men continued through the forest until they had reached a clearing.  20 minutemen stood chatting and readying their weapons.  The ill-tempered Captain Fryer glared at Stephen and Fredericks as they marched up to him.  “Well, well, well.  So glad you two layabouts could grace us with your presence.  Do you want those British spies to give away our position?  What kept you?”  Stephen was about to speak when Fredericks interrupted.  “It was my fault, captain.  I tripped and fell in the excitement.  Young Stephen helped me, and I slowed him down.”  Fryer glared at Stephen, who just stood at attention and said nothing.  Fryer sniffed and glanced over his company.  “Such disorder.  I’ll say one thing for the British.  They have more discipline in one soldier than this pathetic lot put together.  Why when I fought alongside them against the French, I saw…” 

“Begging the captain’s pardon,” said Fredericks with a smirk.  “But does the captain wish for us to continue the pursuit?”  Fryer gestured to a pair of muskets strewn on the grass and pieces of British uniform caught in a tree.  Near the objects were patches of blood.  “For your information, Fredericks,” Fryer said.  “The spies are clearly nearby.  One of our boys must have hit one of them with a fatal blow.  I’ve sent Domin and Lewis to scout ahead.  They’ll finish off those Redcoats, and we can return to our posts.” 

There was a snap of branches and Fryer and his men jumped and aimed their muskets.  Elias Lewis, a man in his 30s with long hair and a beard burst into the clearing.  “Captain Fryer!  Captain Fryer!” he said rapidly.  “You need to come quickly, sir!” 

“At ease, soldier!” Fryer barked.  “Salute when you speak to your commander!”  Elias panted for breath as he stood at attention and gave a salute.  Fryer sighed as Stephen and Fredericks shared a look.  “Now, make your report.  Where is Domin?” 

“Captain, sir, Alexander is about 40 yards off.  But, sir, you need to come quickly!” 

“What are you chattering about?  Has he captured the spies?” 

“Sir, begging your pardon but there’s something you need to see.  If you could come with me, sir?” 

Groaning, Fryer turned to Stephen and Fredericks.  “Very well.  You two, you’re with me.  Lead on, Lewis.  Bradford!  You’re in command.  Keep these men at the ready!  There may be more of these Redcoats slinking about!” 

Stephen and Fredericks hurried after Fryer and the scout.  They eventually came to another clearing where Alexander Domin stood staring at the ground, his musket held loose in his hands.  “Domin!” Fryer barked.  “What’s the matter with you, man?!”  Stephen walked up to Domin and followed his gaze.  The ground had been flattened out into a footprint.  It was the footprint of a chicken, but it was as long as Domin was tall. 

“Yaga,” Domin breathed.  Fryer looked down at the footprint in annoyance.  “Is this what all the fuss is about, Lewis?” 

“I don’t know, sir!” Lewis explained.  “We were following the redcoats’ trail, but when Alexander saw those footprints, he just froze up.” 

“Yaga is here,” Domin intoned.  “Baba Yaga is here!” 

Fredericks poked his musket into the bushes and pushed them aside.  “My word!  Captain!  The blood trail ends here!  There’s an arm, a leg!” 

“Baba Yaga took them!” Domin said, grabbing a hold of Stephen by the shoulders.  “Baba Yaga is coming for us all!” 

“What in the name of heaven is a Baba… whatever?” sniffed Fryer.  “I’ve heard some of the Poles talk about it, sir,” said Fredericks.  “They say that Baba Yaga is some kind of witch woman.  Something about her house being perched on the legs of a chicken, and that it can move about on it’s own.” 

“Bah!” snorted Fryer.  “Ridiculous, superstitious nonsense!” 

“But the tracks are here, sir!” said Stephen as Lewis struggled to keep Domin calm.  “Obviously a British trick to weaken our resolve,” said Fryer.  “It will take more than a childish prank to make my militia turn and run!”   

Suddenly the ground began to shake.  The minutemen held their muskets at the ready.  The thud of enormous footsteps rumbled towards them.  Domin fell to his knees, holding his head in a panic.  “She’s coming for us!  She killed the redcoats, and now she’s coming for us!  These are her woods!  She’s going to…” 

“Pull yourself together, man!” snapped Fryer.  “It’s all just a trick!  A trick I tell you…” 

The trees surrounding the clearing crashed to earth.  The minutemen looked up in shock at the pair of spindly, chicken legs that supported the twisted, three-story hut on top of them.  Fryer drew his flintlock pistol and fired, but the bullet ricocheted off the walls of the hut.  Fredericks grabbed Fryer by the sleeve of his uniform and dragged him out of the way of the structure.  “Stephen!  Help Elias with Alexander!  Get back to the others!  Move!”  But as the minutemen ran back the way they came, they could hear the sounds of musket fire and men screaming. 

When they had reached the encampment, men were aiming their muskets and firing into the sky.  Six feet above them looked like what appeared to be a wooden barrel.  In it sat a decrepit, old woman with a broom in one hand and a sickle in the other.  Bullets bounced off the barrel as it rapidly descended down to earth, allowing the woman to snatch a victim with a bony claw before dispatching him with her sickle, or simply tossing him screaming to the ground below. 

Fryer stood frozen in fear.  “It’s… it’s… it’s a trick.”  Stephen turned to Fredericks, who continued to watch in amazement as the minutemen struggled against the cackling hag.  “Master Fredericks!  What are we going to do?”  Fredericks loaded his musket with shot and powder, and fixed his eyes on the flying figure.  “Do?  We do what we are supposed to do, boy.  This land is our home, and we have sworn an oath to defend it.  And I don’t care if that’s Baba Yaga or Mary Queen of Scotts!  I’ll be damned if I let her endanger our village.”  Stephen took a deep breath, then nodded.  Fredericks patted Stephen’s shoulder, then shouted out orders.  “Fall in, all ranks!  Don’t waste your powder!  Keep your wits about you!  If you have a clear shot, take it!  Ready!  FIRE!” 

 

OK:

There are 20 minutemen, all armed with contemporary weapons. 

Baba Yaga has her flying mortar, pestle, broom, sickle and her chicken legged house. 

Minutemen win by either killing Baba Yaga or convincing her to let them leave her woods. 

Baba Yaga wins by killing all 20 minutemen. 

Game On!

[Callisto]

Learn More About
Minutemen
Read more about Minutemen at Wikipedia
Official Site: Public Domain Links: Wikipedia

Baba Yaga
Read more about Baba Yaga at Wikipedia
Official Site: Public Domain Links: Wikipedia Old Russia.net Russiapedia

[Mercenaryblade]

It's a good set up for sure. A great use of the prompt and it's cool to see Minutemen being used, this actually would be a good film I think. Baba Yaga is a curious choice of foe, with the setting I would have expected something from North American myths. Wendigo, or Bigfoot are both in the database. 

As to the fight, I'm tempted to go Minutemen just because I like the plucky mere mortals winning against a supernatural threat. 

 

[DSkillz]

Another very good set-up, broadway. Interesting tale of minutemen encountering a very unusual situation. 

One question, though: did you have any particular version of Baba Yaga in mind for the match? From a glance, what weaknesses she may have (if any) seems to depend on which version we're talking about.

[broadwaybeyonder]

8 hours ago, DSkillz said:

Another very good set-up, broadway. Interesting tale of minutemen encountering a very unusual situation. 

One question, though: did you have any particular version of Baba Yaga in mind for the match? From a glance, what weaknesses she may have (if any) seems to depend on which version we're talking about.

Not really.  Some stories apparently have her as someone who will give tasks to her victims, and she would kill them if they don't complete them.  For the purposes of this story, I picture her as simply enraged at having 'her' forest and home disturbed and is unleashing her magic on intruders.  If the minutemen can talk her down and convince her to give them a task to spare them, that might be a way for them to survive this fight.  

[DSkillz]

14 hours ago, broadwaybeyonder said:

Not really.  Some stories apparently have her as someone who will give tasks to her victims, and she would kill them if they don't complete them.  For the purposes of this story, I picture her as simply enraged at having 'her' forest and home disturbed and is unleashing her magic on intruders.  If the minutemen can talk her down and convince her to give them a task to spare them, that might be a way for them to survive this fight.  

In that case, the Minutemen may have a chance to complete Baba's task. I have a feeling it may end up being up to Stephen, the youngest soldier, to get it done, though. 

[Callisto]

Match Final Results

Member Ratings:
5.00 - StormChaser
4.60 - Mercenaryblade
5.00 - patrickthekid
4.70 - DSkillz
4.60 - Boratz

FPA Calculation:
5 Total Votes cast
23.90 Total Combined Score
23.90 / 5 = 4.78 Final Rating on the match

MATCH SCORE
Minutemen: 2
Baba Yaga: 3

[RakaiThwei]

Yeah, seems about right for Baba Yaga to win this one.

[broadwaybeyonder]

THE BOTTOM LINE

Stephen crouched under a bush and tried to be as still as possible.  His eyes were wide with fear as he gasped for breath.  Baba Yaga had killed every single member of the militia.  Alexander Domin had thrown himself in front of her, begging her for mercy.  But the witch woman would not be placated.  She had driven her sickle through his heart, then rose up into the air to avoid a volley of musket fire. 

Captain Fryer had disappeared in the confusion caused by Baba Yaga’s house stampeding into the clearing.  It’s chicken feet crushed the unfortunate souls who had got in it’s way.  The chaos caused Stephen to stand frozen, his mind unable to comprehend the bloodshed before him.  Baba Yaga flew towards up on her mortar, and Master Fredericks shoved him out of her path.  The man barely had time to yell for Stephen to run before Baba Yaga grabbed him by the throat and snapped his neck. 

Stephen heard the click of a pistol being cocked behind his head.  “On your feet, soldier.  With your hands raised.”  Stephen obeyed, and turned to see the bloodstained face of Captain Fryer.   He held his pistol in a shaking hand, but had it aimed at Stephen’s head.  “Stephen Northam, you are charged with desertion of your post.  You are hereby sentenced to death.  Do you have anything to say in your defense?” 

Stephen could see in Fryer’s eyes that his commander was no longer in his right frame of mind.  “Captain, sir!  We need to warn the village!  We need more men!  We can’t stop that… creature!” 

“SILENCE IN RANKS!” Fryer snapped.  He took a gulp of air to steady himself then stared obliviously at the recruit.  “Insubordination.  No respect for the chain of command.  I know my course.  May God have mercy on your…

SQUISH! 

Blood splattered on Stephen.  He blinked to clear his vision and could see the chicken leg where Captain Fryer had been.  Underneath the foot was the mangled corpse of Stephen’s commander.  Stephen’s gaze followed up the leg to Baba Yaga’s house.  He spun around and tried to run, only to feel something grab him by the back of his collar and hoist him into the air. 

Several feet off the ground, the hand of Baba Yaga turned Stephen so he could look at her.  Stephen gave a shout of alarm as he stared into the wrinkled, twisted features of the witch woman.  “Please,” he begged, his feet kicking against the mortar.   “Please, let me go.  I won’t tell anyone!  I swear!  No one will enter these woods again!  Just please don’t kill me!” 

“Hush,” Baba Yaga whispered.  Stephen gulped as Baba Yaga gave a smile that showed off her scarcity of teeth.  “You are lucky, boy.” 

“L l lucky?” stammered Stephen. 

“Yes, lucky, boy,” Baba Yaga soothed.  “Baba Yaga likes boys.”  Sweat still ran down Stephen’s brow as Baba Yaga lifted him above her head.  “Yes,” Baba Yaga went on.  “Baba Yaga likes boys.  So young, so strong.”  Her eyes lit up with a manic glee.  “So… tasty!” 

In an instant, Baba Yaga’s jaw seemed to unhinge itself to open inhumanly wide, and the young minuteman was swallowed whole.