Vox Populi Forum
There were “four” objectives, Tortensson said: locate the enemy command post, disrupt supply trains and cut off their supplies of powder, steal the pay-box,and locate the friendly reinforcements. There is a fifth objective--discover if Wildemoon II is held here, and, if so, rescue him. Of course, Tortensson wouldn’t think of such a thing as the man is loyal only to his lusts.
It is my hopes that the men of the Vert Valiant are more loyal the their friends, for I find myself in need of loyal friends.
From the overlook next to the French command tent we can see the pitched and chaotic battle below. The screams of the wounded and dying (men and horses), the smell of burnt powder, the sight of explosions all heighten the chaos of the day. Harmon, as ever, pontificates that “War is never the answer…” (Odd words from a professional soldier!) Harmon’s words inspire a young fop named Antonio. Young “Tony” is moved to follow Harmon into battle. I fear for the lad who will surely come to a bad end sooner rather than later. War may not be “the answer,” but it’s one hell of a pointed argument, and a battlefield is the wrong place to be swayed by talk of pacifism.
Separated from my companions in a side Skirmish, I attempt to circle the battle lines to the north, seeking Wildemoon. If I am forced into action by a foul dog, then I will take the opportunity to show Tortensson what loyalty and camaraderie truly are. Sure enough, the north edge of the battle is hold the forward tent of the enemy Field Marshall where Wildemoon is being held. He has been tortured for information, but has spoken nothing. His wounds from our time at sea still open and bloody--the enemy reopening them in their questioning. A slice of his bonds and a quick set of directions, and the brave Buccaneer should be able to make it to our side’s Command Tent for friendly treatment. This is at least the third time I have saved that man from capture in battle.
I dress in the livery of the enemy and move out to attempt to disrupt their commands, but, as I don’t speak their guttural language, the ruse is quickly dispelled and I am forced down into the main battle. Dodging and wending through sword stroke, pistol shot, and explosions of cannon fire, I am unable to break free of the main battle. I find Henri and Alain, both down with vicious wounds and at least manage to drag both men next to each other.
A roar from the southeast heralds the arrival of enemy reinforcements, and the battle lines shift. Merd-a-din is drawn in, cursing the loss of his luck and his hat (which has a new plume taken from one of the exotic birds kept by the “Papua” people--a near-irreplaceable item).
Merd-a-din says Harmon has found the enemy Command Tent, strolled in and said, “War is not the answer.. We're Gentlemen here, no need to fight,” then was immediately forced into dueling to save his own life.
Harmon has also been forced to the heart of the battle. He arrives, somewhat winded and informs us the duels were less about the tactics of war and more about the insultingly small 100 doubloon bounty placed on the heads of us all. 100 doubloons? I can easily pay more than that to be left alone to fifty would-be assassins.
Wildemoon (who was relieved to here his son had been found and released) turns up in the bloody field. He claims to have found and threatened the enemy Field Commander--the very action which prompted their reinforcements into action, forcing us all into the very center of the attack.
Together we plan our movement to the west--a return to the Overlook, and a chance to regroup to continue to locate the enemy supply trains and pay-box. Regrettably, we must leave Henri and Alain behind for now. We tell them to play dead and drag the bodies of those who are not merely playing over them for cover.
The saying is “no battle plan survives contact with the enemy,” and it’s truth is quickly relearned as we are, again, quickly separated. I think I may have seen Merd-a-din make it to the lines of the French scouts, but…
As I am partly clad in the garb of France and partly in the uniform of our enemy, I suppose I’ll never know if it was a deliberate action from friend or foe or the result of random chance. It matters not. For now, I don’t even know if I’ll see another sunrise. There is a hole in my chest. I cannot see exactly how large as the pumping blood has obscured the wound and soaked through my shirt, vest and coat. I am quite tired, and, I think I need to lie down and rest.
Just a short nap…
Wow, how will the story end -- red (posted: 5/10/2018)
Hopefully with a rescue from the cavalry... -- Mike Myke Mique (posted: 5/12/2018)
Injured Dudes should end up off the battle field .... -- Iron Conrad (posted: 5/13/2018)