//------------------------------// // The retreat of Brandywine and the Everfree Forest // Story: My little Revolution: Britain and Her Colonies // by batran //------------------------------// Warning: This is an early version of the chapter and would change overtime, instead of disliking this, you could show me what mistakes to fix! Btw, this is the first chapter so it won't be as good as my later chapters so I suggest you try reading the whole story before judging it. But also, this chapter was made during my early writing skills, so I suggest reading on as my experiences with story writing got better. "No taxation without representation!" "Without money there will be no order!" "We bow to no royalty!" "Rule Britannia!" "We the people!" "Leaving us would be anarchy!" "We make our own decisions now!" "Rebel scum! You terrorize us all, you deserve to be put down!... Like dogs!" "I, Ben Franklin, believe a new nation will rise above the ashes, I believe in America..." "We shall restore order to the colonies." "General Washington, the enemy is flanking us!" "Ha! we got the patriots on the run!" Battle of Brandywine Meeting house Hill Afternoon There were sounds of explosions and blood curling screams everywhere, there was also the sound of men yelling at one another as well. Verbal fights are very common as hatred and annoyance fills the air on both sides. Sweat poured down the cheeks of another Continental Soldier as he emptied his musket on a British musician meters away. He hastily reached down to his sides reaching for some more ammo. Feeling around his waist, he felt nothing there. He looked down and realized that he ran out of bullets to fire. "Adamson!" yelled a young French voice behind him. Adamson turned his head towards the voice, revealing one of his comrades calling out to him. "Adamson! Ze general had called for our retreat, we cannot die out 'ere!" "Don't worry Marseille," he called back in a bold Russian-American like accent even though he is from Manhattan, "You and the others stay here with me a little more, I think I see a couple more of them Lobster-Backs that needs slaughtering!" said Adamson as he gestured to several British Redcoats closing in on him. Adamson turned back around and saw a butt of a musket, held by an British Infantryman, racing towards him. His body froze up for a little bit, unable to think and compute what is going to happen. Eventually, the musket seems to meet up with his face slamming him backwards into the mud. Marseille's eyes widened at this, "Adamson!" screamed Marseille. His anger boiled like fire inside him as he rushed towards his fallen comrade. His friends seems to notice Marseille's and eleven of them risked it all just to hastily rushed to protect their bold Manhattanite. With a cry Marseille drove his bayonet into a Redcoat. The Redcoat didn't seem to scream as he coughed up blood from the spear in his stomach. Marseille pulled his musket's bayonet out of the Redcoat and the Redcoat's body fell to the ground as blood poured out of his body, draining out his life every second. Another soldier behind Marseille, known as Mitts followed his friend's example by ramming his own into another Redcoat. Adamson, quickly recovered, woke up just in time to see a bayonet, from the same British Infantryman, coming towards his chest. He grabbed the bayonet and pushed it out of the way and it hit the mud inches away from his face. He kicked his legs to the British Infantryman, making him let go of his musket that was stuck in the mud. Adamson got up to his feet and punched the British Infantryman in the kisser knocking him out. "Allen!" screamed the last British soldier towards his friend, He looked to Adamson with his face filled with fear. The last British soldier tried to run but was punched to stay in place by Adamson's fellow comrade. He (The British soldier) whimpered in pain as he tried to crawl away, he looked up into the sky and saw lightning flashing from all sides. He turn towards the Thirteen Continental soldiers and was shocked to see all of them closing in on him. One of them raised their bayonet towards him. The Soldier closed his eyes shut waiting for the inevitable. Suddenly, a bright flash hit the area near him, temporary blinding the Continental soldiers. The British Soldier opened his eyes and saw his chance and started to crawl away, but another bright light hits all of them and suddenly... Darkness... ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ???????? Forest 0100 HRS "Huh?" whispered The British soldier as he jolted awake with a sudden pain in his head. he quickly looked around to find the other Soldiers. He saw nothing but Continental soldiers trying to recover what happened in the blast and trees surrounding them. After a few uneasy seconds the British soldier called out to his friend "Allen!?". He waited a few seconds then tried again but louder this time, "ALLEN!?". The Thirteen Contintental Soldiers took notice of this, The New Yorker grabbed the Lone British soldier around the neck. "Let me go!" cried out the Lone Infantryman "What is your name?" Said the New Yorker in a light dutch accent. "Boniface Kent, Now let me go!" cried out the British Soldier. "Well we are going to kill you at first, but we are going to be nice-" The British soldier paled a little at the word "-and keep you as prisoner, right guys?" "Aw come on!" complained Mitts, "Ahem!?" Replied the New Yorker, "Ugh, fine!" sighed Mitts. Boniface was uncertain at first, but realized that he isn't coming out of this dark scary hideous forest alive if he doesn't learn to trust his enemy, he reluctantly nodded his head a couple times. The Squad (Squad is made up of 8 to 14 Soldiers) looked around the forest then heard a startling blood curling scream in the far distance. "U-um, maybe we should camp here tonight, eh?", Said Philips in a timid voice. Everyone nodded and unpacked their bags and got to work. The Southern Americans mostly did all the work, as most of them were farmers and know how to survive in the wilderness James Jackson from Maryland also had been in the Frontier. They gathered sticks and stones, and found a couple logs. They set up camp and sat down to rest. "So," Started Brandon Harkness from Pennsylvania he paused for a moment before asking, "My Regiment is 7th of Pennsylvania, what is yours?" "Actually, I am also from the Pennsylvania 7th Regiment" responded Gunther Von Frederickson There was a dozen "Me too" and "same here". Boniface Kent however was from a different army so he haven't said anything about being in the 7th. "I am from the 1st Battalion," said Boniface pointing his finger in the air, "and I am under orders of Captain Cox!" Everyone chuckled at the last few words except for Boniface who was confused about this, possibly he was innocent. "Vell, what part of the company are you then? His b*tch?" joked John Melinda Von Frederickson, twin "brother" of Gunther Von Frederickson. Boniface went pale before replying back, "Oi! I'm not his female dog you Hessian!" "I'm not a Hessian, I'm a Brunswicker! For your information Hessians come from Hessen!" Yelled the southern German-American before burying his face in his hands. "Just great Boniface." said Gunther in a sarcastic tone There was a pause for a moment. "So where did you guys come from?" asked The Redcoat "I come from Massachusetts" replied Robert Adamson in a bold tone, "I-I am from New Hampshire" replied Adam Philips said timidly, "Virginia, I'm from Virginia" replied George Garnett, "Rhode Island" replied Henri Le Marseille proudly, and the list goes on (Check in the Authors notes for more info). "Wait, if Gunther was from North Carolina and John Melinda was from South Carolina, and you said you were twins...?" Questioned Boniface, unable to finish the sentence. "We were separated when we were young, but we managed to meet up again while signing up in the 7th." Responded John Melinda. "Oh." "Guys, I have just noticed that we have similar names.. well kinda but, why don't we refer ourselves as in states/nation? it's like codenames? I like codenames..." Everyone thought this was a stupid idea at first but in a world where they are turned into ponies, so they cannot give out their names just yet. "Well we better get some sleep, tomorrow we need to move out of this forest." 12 hours later "Come back here, Lunch!" yelled Connecticut while chasing a beaver. The beaver was all over the place, Connecticut leaped on top of the beaver. He would've got the drop on it but the vermin moved out of the way just in time and Connecticut fell face first on the ground. "DAMMIT!" Screamed Connecticut. He got up and wiped his bloody nose. He then looked to his left and saw there was a bright light in the distance. He realized that it must be an exit and ran towards it like a happy child and leaped gracefully out of the clearing and landing on his face yet again. "Not again..." Winced Connecticut, he got up and dust himself off and put his hands on his hips. His eyes soon rest upon some type of large town, It's style indicates that it was built about a century ago. His expression went giddy as he found a town where there was plenty of food and drink! He turned around and raced back to camp. After a dozen minutes, Connecticut found the camp and raced towards it flailing his arms about yelling, "I found a town in the clearing! I found a town in the clearing!" Everyone cheered and quickly packed their bags and followed Connecticut to the clearing. But all of them started to slow down a little after a few questions raced through their minds: Who are they? Who is their allegiance towards? Are they friendly?