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Battle of Haddon Rig

A Scottish ambush party, lying in wait on the moorland of Haddon Rig, springs a surprise attack on an English raiding party. The Scots, using the terrain to their advantage, unleash a volley of arrows

Setting

Haddon Rig, a rolling moorland near Kelso in the Scottish Borders. The terrain is uneven with patches of heather and gorse, scattered with rocky outcrops that provide natural cover. A narrow burn winds through the landscape, its banks muddy from recent rains.

Characters

Scottish Captain
primary
A rugged man in his late 30s with a weathered face marked by years of border warfare. His broad shoulders and muscular frame speak of physical endurance, while a deep scar runs from his left temple to jawline—a souvenir from previous skirmishes. His piercing blue eyes constantly scan the terrain with tactical precision.
English Lieutenant
primary
A young man in his mid-20s, lean but muscular from years of military training. His face is clean-shaven with sharp features, and his light brown hair is cropped short beneath his steel helmet. A fresh scar runs along his left cheekbone from a recent skirmish. His blue eyes dart rapidly across the battlefield, assessing threats.
Scottish Archer
secondary
A lean, wiry man in his late twenties with sun-weathered skin and sharp, watchful eyes. His hands bear the callouses of years drawing a longbow, and his stance is steady despite the uneven ground. A faint scar runs along his left cheekbone, likely from past border skirmishes.
English Foot Soldier
secondary
A wiry man in his late twenties with a sunburnt face and close-cropped brown hair. His left cheek bears a fresh scratch from gorse branches, and his knuckles are white from gripping his billhook too tightly. His eyes dart rapidly between the Scottish positions.
Scottish Scout
background
A wiry youth of about 16 years with sun-browned skin and wind-chapped cheeks. His lean frame shows the endurance of a runner, with muscular legs honed by traversing the borderlands. A jagged scar runs along his left forearm from an old shepherd's accident.

Dialog

Scottish Captain Tha iad anns a’ chùl-shruth, Alba gu bràth! Loose when they cross the burn.
English Lieutenant God's wounds! They've the high ground—form square by the rocks!
English Foot Soldier Saints preserve us, sir—they're in the gorse! The whole bloody brae's alive with 'em!
Scottish Captain Dinna waste shafts on the mail-clad fools. Pick the redcoats at the flank.
English Lieutenant Stand, you dogs! Would you have these border thieves think Englishmen run like hares?
Scottish Captain Aye, squeal for your Henry now. The moor drinks English blood today.

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