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Post by Dallas on Dec 6, 2011 23:05:22 GMT -5
-ANDREAS [/size][/b][/right] He stepped back again, the dust settling as he did so. It seemed that it was pretty much over. Some of the British, and a few Hessians, were pursueing a few yankees even further. Probably trying to scare them off for good or possibly catch them. He didn't feel the compelling urge to make chase so he leaned back on his heels. He fingered his musket and looked to the side of his left arm, where the bayonet had got him.
It had punched a hole into the sleeve of his coat, and he could feel the dried blood caked on the place where it had torn his flesh. He put his hand on it and felt that it the sleeve was soaked with blood. He was surprised that it didn't hurt at all. At least I had enough wits about me to avoid being shot. He chided to himself as he put the musket down to reach into his pocket where he had some spare cloth that he had brought from camp, just incase he had been injured. He wrapped it tightly around his sleeve, making a temporary bandage.
He looked back up, squinting from the sunlight and saw the few fellows that he had fallen back with. He realized that he only knew one's name, Danny, the lad that had shouted French at him and had a funny accent that made it hard to undertsand him. For a moment he considered going up to the other two and asking for their names and possibly giving his own. That only lasted a second, then he was looking on back towards his regiment. At that moment he had the strongest urge to just slip away, they'd think that he had died or been captured. Maybe he could make it far enough, Where would I go? The yankees won't have mercy on me, I was just shooting at them.
With a sigh he began marching over to his regiment, but he knew that one day he would escape. He would never go back to Germany, this war was giving him a chance to escape and he planned to make use of it.
((probably my last post till January. feel free to skip my turn when it comes.)) |
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Post by rebellioustory on Dec 7, 2011 0:11:24 GMT -5
Bee kept running into the thick of it- what choice did she have? She figured she might as well make the best of it now that her hands were good and bloodied. She let out a yell of utter exhilaration as she followed her fellow men in arms into the smoke to chase the Rebels back to wherever they came from recalling the men who threw her out of her house and left her on her own then hoped she bayoneted a few of them. She watched the enemy run from them and couldn't help but feel powerful since she was a part of the reason why they were running and it made her grin wickedly. She let out another yell when the corporal said to chase them back to Boston and she sure was planning on it, "Tally ho!" she repeated as she passed by the Welshman.
She continued her run unaware of how tired she was getting when a gunshot whizzed past her left ear. She stopped to see a small Rebel who looked to be a few years younger than she, "Now you've really messed yourself up for I am still loaded." she said motioning to her gun, Not to mention she has a bayonet on her. I suggest you start running now." she said thrilled with the idea of the chase. Once he took off running, she followed him still trying to figure out what she would do with him. Would she take him prisoner? She had her fill of killing for the day. Would she let him go? And get flogged for it? No thank you, it was too early in her career as a soldier to get caught. She could take him prisoner but then he would get hanged, probably. Maybe she could "recruit" him. She was sure he'd be much better off serving his king and country than this treasonous government. Yes, that was what she was going to do!
I'm probably running like a girl... she continued running past Danny and James further into the woods. The branches scratched her face and hands yet she remained relentless in his pursuit. She ran past a stream and looked in the water's reflection to realize that, indeed, she ran like a girl and would have to change that as soon as possible.
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Post by Bog on Dec 23, 2011 9:00:10 GMT -5
They were being chased. Obviously. The damned redcoats were baying like hounds for their blood. Most of their regiment was hopelessly scattered amongst the trees now, in full terrified flight. Strout was running hard on Jack's heels, unable to help feeling disdain when he saw several men ahead of him throw away their muskets and cartridge boxes in an effort to make their retreat faster. Fools. What would they use to fight later, when they were finally safe?
He wished that he'd not wasted his last shot now, for it seemed they had been singled out by a redcoat. A redcoat with a quick running stride at that. Hell's teeth. If only he had the same long legs as Jack, with whom he was trying to keep pace. He wasn't going to simply surrender, though. The whole army was awash with rumours of what horrible fate awaited those unfortunate fools who became prisoners of the British. That wasn't going to be Strout's fate. No, sir!
"Jack! Your musket!" Strout gasped, squeezing out the words only with an effort. He had never been disposed toward this sort of exercise. To his surprise, Jack stopped short and turned, one hand already around his musket's doghead. Strout nearly ploughed directly into him. "Here, give it!"
The exchange was made quickly and Strout was thoroughly relieved to see Jack's musket was still loaded. There was hope. Sucking in a great gulp of air to help refill his lungs, Strout bounded off again, feeling a little more optimistic about his chances. If he couldn't outrun this persistent redcoat, he could damn well kill him.
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Post by faithfulguardian on Dec 26, 2011 11:25:01 GMT -5
Danny watched as Bee charged through, oblivious to her introduction, and began chasing a single american, at first she was going to let him do it himself, worried about hurting any of the manly pride Bee might have, but then she saw the exchange of muskets between the two militia men, the one Bee followed now had a loaded gun.
Danny ran a few paces forward, unslinging her rifle and loading it as quickly as she could. she knelt beside a large tree and a boulder the size of a carriage, giving herself cover for any leftover sharpshooters. she wrapped the sling of the rifle around her arm to keep it out of the way and tucked the butt of the rifle into the nest of her shoulder. Breathing slowly and deliberately she took aim at the fleeing American, focusing in on the hand that carried the musket. if he made a move towards harming Bee she was ready to protect her new friend. she just hoped it wouldn't come to killing.
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Post by Chørd on Jan 1, 2012 7:38:29 GMT -5
`JamesThey were in flight now, fleeing from the redcoats that were hot on their heels with their baynoets ready to spear any rebel close enough. Most of the grenadiers had fallen, and a lot of the light infantry, too, but they still cheered - and rightly so!
James was running with them, slamming his musket butt into any American he caught up with. They were damned fast though. Probably because they were used to running for their lives, he thought to himself. As he chased them, he spotted the Hessian that Danny had been trying to unsuccesfully communicate in French with. Well, he assumed it was French; he didn't speak any other language but his native English, so it all sounded foreign to him anyway. He watched the Hessian for a moment, narrowing his eyes when he noticed he'd let a rebel go, giving him just a simple shove away as he ran past. Deciding he was probably just tired, he thought nothing of it and continued running, though glanced back over his shoulder to check what the German was doing in any case.
James was starting to feel the tiredness from the fight kick in. The running back and forth, reloading and firing, and the adrenaline rush that was coursing through him were starting to sap his energy. His bayonet had a thick coating of blood on it, like the rest of the other soldiers, and he felt pride swell in him. He stopped only for a fleeting moment to catch his breath, watching as the rebels continued running, some casting off their weapons to hasten their retreat. Run home, buggers, he thought, a small smirk spreading across his face.
As the boy, Danny, spoke to him he looked around, a surprised expression plastered on his face. Where'd he come from? He stared at the outstretched and gingerly shook it, his fingers black with powder and trembling slightly with excitement. Noticing he and Danny were being watched by the Hessian from earlier, he shot a glare in his direction, before turning his attention back to oddly-dressed Scot again. He highly doubted this was much of a time for introductions but decided to humour the lad anyway. He was still certain Bee and Danny were younger than him - and judging by the softness of their faces and the pitch of their voices, they were a good few years younger than him at that.
"Royal Welch Fusiliers," was all he could say before Bee had run off, chasing down a rebel that had grabbed a musket from a comrade and had turned to face him. Danny was off then, and James groaned. He really didn't feel like following them - the American had probably already sealed his fate by running back to challenge his pursuer, and he didn't care for getting involved in it.
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OOC: Just gonna sneak back in here... ¬.¬
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Post by Dallas on Jan 3, 2012 20:44:15 GMT -5
-ANDREAS Andreas watched as more men chased after the rebels, cheering in triumph. He saw Danny and the other lad running after them now, the lad with the spectacles running similar to a girl. The sight only made him grin and hold back laughter, looked like the boy hadn't had a lot of experience with running. In the clearing he could see the other lad that had been talking with the Scott cast a glance at him. He wasn't sure what that was suppose to mean, but he ignored him, for the moment.
His regiment was scattered about the clearing. The commander was absent, probably killed in battle. He could see a few running after the rebels, but there were a few that were standing back like him, either to tired to make pursuit or they just didn't care. For him it was a mixture of both. The blood loss he had suffered started to wear on him now that the rush of battle was over. His vision blurred for a second and a terrible light headed feeling came upon him. He found a tree to lean back on and he took a few droughts of water from his canteen.
He fingered his bayonet, rubbing off the blood before it dried anymore. His gaze settled over the battle field, and on the bodies that decorated it. He looked back to his rifle and sighed a sigh of relief and of disdain. |
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Post by rebellioustory on Jan 12, 2012 15:54:06 GMT -5
Bee leaped over a log then heard a very uncomfortable ripping sound yet there was no time to curse her breeches being ripped, there was a Rebel to chase! She was getting tired and began to regret giving her canteen to that grenadier as her mouth began getting dry and her heart beating faster. Her legs began to feel like hot lead as she pursued this fellow and she thought she should give up since the group was probably forming the company again. She was not used to running with this amount of equipment on her back and it began to make her shoulders ache yet there was no stopping now, she was on pursuit!
The Rebel then disappeared or she took a wrong turn and suddenly was unable to see anyone. She paused to catch her breath and look around then clutched her gun tighter then wondered if the Rebel had a canteen on him he was willing to share because, after all, she was going to see if she can recruit him and make him do some real service for his country, foolish bugger he must have been. She made a small gasp when she bumped into Danny, "Oh, it's you!" she said breathing a sigh of relief, "I can't find him, but don't say I tried." she said between breaths, "Should we keep pursuing or turn back?" she was more than happy for the help, Lord knows she needed it.
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Post by Bog on Jan 15, 2012 12:04:10 GMT -5
"Come on!" Jack Leech called, and Strout spun around on his heel, reluctantly giving up the idea of shooting their British pursuer. For the moment, anyway. His legs weren't as long as Jack's but he was quick. He bounded over the uneven ground as if he'd grown up in the woods instead of a city's streets. The sooner he put some distance between those few determined redcoats, the better.
He'd gone no more than fifty yards before deciding he had run enough. This was not why he'd reenlisted, damn it. With a curse, Strout stopped himself short and turned about. And realised he could not see that earnest redcoat who'd been hard on his heels. He tucked the musket butt into his shoulder and carefully pulled the doghead back, trying to make the metallic clicks as inaudible as he could.
All around him, elsewhere, there were the unmistakable noises of the chase carrying on: shouts, men crashing through the underbrush, the occasional shot. Here, in his immediate vicinity, however, it seemed eerily quiet. Strout wished, yet again, that he was fortunate enough to have a bayonet.
Quiet, that was, except for the voice that piped up close by. Strout moved nothing but his torso, twisting his upper body so he could aim at the voice. Or at least in the voice's general direction. It was definitely a redcoat, to be talking like that. There were two of them, at the least. He had only one shot so he had to make it count.
His finger was just tightening around the trigger when he heard Jack Leech call out to him from far ahead. He must have only then realised Strout was not right behind him, but was too far away to help. "Ben! Come on!"
The hail was distraction enough to make Strout twitch, just as he squeezed the trigger all the way back. His musket fired but the last second shudder in his hands had ruined his aim. The instant the powder ignited and sent the lead ball hurtling out of the barrel, Strout was in motion, springing away to run after Jack. He was now essentially unarmed. Again. God damn it.
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Post by faithfulguardian on Jan 16, 2012 1:09:07 GMT -5
Danny had lost Bee, and the militia man. they had run ahead and out of her line of sight, so she stood and went looking for her newly found, and lost, friend. she cut across the part of the forest where she had last seen them, hoping to take a shortcut to wherever they were heading. what the lad was thinking by running after the loaded American was beyond her, but she kept on anyway.
it wasn't long before she almost ran into Bee as they both rounded another large boulder, she held her rifle in a manner that allowed her to bring it up to her shoulder fast enough, but not so that she put anyone in danger if she accidentally pulled the trigger. Danny tried to quiet him as he gasped out a few short words, clearly out of breath.
"shush, Lad, we dinnae ken hae far awa' they are." she whispered, falling back into her thicker highland accent with the adrenaline pumping fresh into her veins. she squatted down and scanned the forest floor for movement.
Just as she did, a shot rang out and ricocheted off the boulder about two feet from the both of them, Danny flinched instinctively and looked for the powder smoke from the gun that had fired.
she spotted it, and the man that had shot the weapon. he was high-tailing it in the opposite direction. Danny wrapped the strap around her elbow once again and took aim. she slowed her breathing and waited for a slow exhale. but her finger never went to the trigger. she relaxed and held up.
"he's tae far awa', I cannae get him." she lied. "Maybe we should just head back, aye?" she asked the young lad beside her, still trying to catch his breath.
she then saw how battered they both looked; dirty, bloodied, and smelling of powder. the lad had a cut on his hand and arm, as did she, the wound had begun to throb and bleed through the kerchief she had tied around it. "come on, Lad, we'd better get these looked at. yer lucky yae got nae worse than cuts." Danny threw her arm around the lad's shoulder. a short little fellow he was. "Bee, aye? I think Ah'll call yae Bawbee. My lucky little half-penny."
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Post by Chørd on Jan 24, 2012 15:33:39 GMT -5
`JamesJames was busy wiping the quickly-drying blood off of his bayonet on a clump of grass, glancing around himself warily. The last thing he wanted was for some daring Yankee to stick him with steel when he was busy cleaning off his weapon. Around him, he could hear the incoherent shouts of the redcoats and rebels alike, running through the shrubbery, and the occasional shot ringing around the trees or some form of anguished cry from someone who'd gotten on the wrong side of a bayonet.
Now the immediate danger of potentially being shot dead was gone, the adolescent could feel himself calming - and with that calm came the pain from the wounds in his arm, and exhaustion, which kicked in with surprising speed.
"Bloody hell," he grumbled, delicately fingering the damage to the sleeve of his red coat. It was a small gash, but one he'd need to do something about nevertheless. Perhaps he could persuade Bee to help him with the sewing - he appeared to have relatively dainty fingers anyway, just the sort for doing fiddly tasks which James had no patience for.
The graze from the musket ball didn't appear to bad - nothing more than the sort you'd get on your knee if you succeeded in tripping. The cut from the bayonet, however, was a little deeper, but nothing too serious.
He shrugged carelessly. All in all, he'd done well. He wasn't writhing on the ground in pain, and he wasn't dead. Nothing to complain about there, really.
Spotting Danny and Bee again, James headed over to them, brightening slightly.
"You a'ight?" He greeted them, noting how out of breath Bee seemed to be. Poor lad. He'd done well.
James gave the sparse woodland a quick scan again, head cocking to the side when he saw the Hessian resting against a tree, looking a little faint.
"S'your Hessian there, Danny," he nodded in the other man's direction. "We should go say 'ello. Don't think we got his name."
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OOC: I am so very sorry about how late this is... ._.
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Post by Dallas on Jan 26, 2012 13:11:33 GMT -5
-ANDREAS [/b][/size][/right] Men came running back toward the battle field, out of breathe from chasing the rebels through the trees and underbrush. ANDREAS spotted Danny and the other lad running up to the other, other lad, the one with light brown hair. It was confusing when he didn't know their names, but then again he didn't know a lot of people's names. Even the men in his own regiment.
Speaking of which another man, a Brunswicker like himself, came up to the tree he was resting on and slapped him on the left shoulder... The one that had been cut. Andreas held back the urge to punch the man's smug face. The Brunswicker spoke out to Andreas, relief overflowing from his tone of voice, speaking in their native tongue "Good fight eh? And where were you for most of it?" Why did he even care where Andreas had been? Maybe he was one of those Hessians that were somewhat 'loyal' to the army they fought for. The fool.
He took a moment to collect his thoughts then glanced at the man with a raised brow, "I was fighting." He simply said then took a step away from the tree, leaving the man alone. Talking with people like that always made Andreas's skin crawl. Most of the people who had been 'recruited' with him weren't like that, but every now and then there was one who had willingly joined the army and didn't seem bothered that they had been lied to by the Duke. It was very strange and Andreas knew he would never understand how those people thought.
His head ached as he took a few more steps then stopped, still over looking the battle field. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed those few redcoat lads, the one with light brown hair nodding in his direction. What do they want? He wasn't in the mood for scouring his brain for English words at the moment. Hopefully they just wanted his name and he could be done with it. |
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