Valkyrie
Here's looking at you, kid!
The Wildlings.
Dillon's Regiment.
Hi. I got bored :/ So yeh. AAR.. stuff. *shrugs* I'm not much of a sailor or an economist so I thought I'd just focus on the fighting - a single fighting unit; a regiment, of funs. Not really. Iunno. It'll be funner when we get into it, hopefully.
Dillon's Regiment.
Hi. I got bored :/ So yeh. AAR.. stuff. *shrugs* I'm not much of a sailor or an economist so I thought I'd just focus on the fighting - a single fighting unit; a regiment, of funs. Not really. Iunno. It'll be funner when we get into it, hopefully.
Bordeaux, France - 1709.
Chateau La Vin.
The Chateau as the name suggests was a winery. A rather large one, the estate dominated the central countryside of Bordeaux, at its pinnacle the Chateau lay on a small hill with its vineyards resting below.
The building was superb, thanks to the renovations and inovations by the King and his ministers. The countryside was on the up, for once. It was an entire world away from Paris and its decadence.
After the action in the Americas the Regiment had been sent home to join the rest of the Brigade for some of the easy life. The Chateau had been handed over to the past Colonel of the regiment aswell as the surrounding lands around it, for past services rendered. The senior officers quartered in the Chateau, a room each, fine wine, fine food and fine women if one would search. Colonel Dillon held his office on the top floor, the last room. He was a tall, quiet man. His hair was already starting to grey, yet the men could hardly think of a better leader. He sat behind his desk most days and nights, working constantly.
A knock racked the door. 'Sir?'
Dillon put down his quill and stared at the door, he sighed, and spoke, his voice flat. 'Enter.'
A young Major scurried through clumsily, and threw a salute. His name was Major Walsh, the adjacent officer. 'Sorry to intrude sir, but the reinforcements have arrived sir, down in the fort.'
Dillon smiled. The fruits of war, thanks to the English, more and more expat's were flowing into Europe, and after the action in America, the regiment was severely down on numbers, they were even missing a whole company.
'About bloody time, James. Lets go see the fellows.'
They left on an optimstic note, heading for the fort.
By the time Dillon and Walsh made it to barracks the new company was already paraded, their arms shouldered and their uniform crisp clean. They looked fresh. Far too fresh. Dillon's hopes sank a little, perched on his horse he watched the Major inspect the paraded troops, calling out eronous details. The list was becoming endless. Dillon and his staff sighed and hoped they could atleast fight.
Lieutenant Doyle grimaced, his body aching from being at attention so long while the officers dallied and chatted while inspecting the new company. He was a young boy, thinking himself somewhere around twenty, he was also a new arrival. To the regiment and the military both. The sun was glaring right at him as he stood stiffly, the sweat trickling down his back. The officers seemed to be ignoring the company now, probally in disgust he thought, for he nor the other men felt nothing like soldiers now. At the harbour it had all been talk of patriotism and glory. Yet around him there was just dullness, the men were tired and bored and miserable. He had heard talk of the America's from which the Regiment had just returned. The old veterans drafted into the new company spread rumours of freezings, white lands of ice and hate, with half naked men charging with axes and baying for blood. He made a mental note to ask one of the officers about it later.
The Colonel shrugged at the other officers around him, looking helpless. 'I think we'll just have to make use of what we've been given gentlemen, constant training will hopefully do the trick.' Though Dillon did not sound it.
The other officers mumbled agreement and turned their mounts or walked off back to their quarters. Dillon swiped sweat off his forehead and headed over to the new officers he recieved. A young Lieutenant and a Captain that might aswell be buried now to get it over with. He frowned inside at the sight. Smiling really. 'Gentlemen. Good day, welcome to the Regiment.' The Colonel offered his hand, checking the Captain's thumb for a pulse while he was at it.
''Honour to meet you, sir.' They both replied far too quickly. Looking like idiots, they both blushed.
Dillon bit his tongue, hard. 'You're lodgings will be down here for the moment I'm afraid, we've arranged a nice room above the kitchen until we can clear out some useless rooms at the Chateau, terribly sorry. Good day.'
The Captain grumbled and rode off right away. Dillon stared down at the Lieutenant. 'Yes?'
'Oh, err..' Doyle stumbled over his words. 'I'd like to ask a few questions.. sir.' He bit his lip.
Dillon's nose wrinkled. 'What the hell about?' Then saw his face. 'Oh.'
And thats it
Nothing amazing really, but I've got nothing better to do. Well I do, but I'm lazy. Hope you enjoys. I'll start writing proper stories about the regiment next update.
The building was superb, thanks to the renovations and inovations by the King and his ministers. The countryside was on the up, for once. It was an entire world away from Paris and its decadence.
After the action in the Americas the Regiment had been sent home to join the rest of the Brigade for some of the easy life. The Chateau had been handed over to the past Colonel of the regiment aswell as the surrounding lands around it, for past services rendered. The senior officers quartered in the Chateau, a room each, fine wine, fine food and fine women if one would search. Colonel Dillon held his office on the top floor, the last room. He was a tall, quiet man. His hair was already starting to grey, yet the men could hardly think of a better leader. He sat behind his desk most days and nights, working constantly.
A knock racked the door. 'Sir?'
Dillon put down his quill and stared at the door, he sighed, and spoke, his voice flat. 'Enter.'
A young Major scurried through clumsily, and threw a salute. His name was Major Walsh, the adjacent officer. 'Sorry to intrude sir, but the reinforcements have arrived sir, down in the fort.'
Dillon smiled. The fruits of war, thanks to the English, more and more expat's were flowing into Europe, and after the action in America, the regiment was severely down on numbers, they were even missing a whole company.
'About bloody time, James. Lets go see the fellows.'
They left on an optimstic note, heading for the fort.
By the time Dillon and Walsh made it to barracks the new company was already paraded, their arms shouldered and their uniform crisp clean. They looked fresh. Far too fresh. Dillon's hopes sank a little, perched on his horse he watched the Major inspect the paraded troops, calling out eronous details. The list was becoming endless. Dillon and his staff sighed and hoped they could atleast fight.
Lieutenant Doyle grimaced, his body aching from being at attention so long while the officers dallied and chatted while inspecting the new company. He was a young boy, thinking himself somewhere around twenty, he was also a new arrival. To the regiment and the military both. The sun was glaring right at him as he stood stiffly, the sweat trickling down his back. The officers seemed to be ignoring the company now, probally in disgust he thought, for he nor the other men felt nothing like soldiers now. At the harbour it had all been talk of patriotism and glory. Yet around him there was just dullness, the men were tired and bored and miserable. He had heard talk of the America's from which the Regiment had just returned. The old veterans drafted into the new company spread rumours of freezings, white lands of ice and hate, with half naked men charging with axes and baying for blood. He made a mental note to ask one of the officers about it later.
The Colonel shrugged at the other officers around him, looking helpless. 'I think we'll just have to make use of what we've been given gentlemen, constant training will hopefully do the trick.' Though Dillon did not sound it.
The other officers mumbled agreement and turned their mounts or walked off back to their quarters. Dillon swiped sweat off his forehead and headed over to the new officers he recieved. A young Lieutenant and a Captain that might aswell be buried now to get it over with. He frowned inside at the sight. Smiling really. 'Gentlemen. Good day, welcome to the Regiment.' The Colonel offered his hand, checking the Captain's thumb for a pulse while he was at it.
''Honour to meet you, sir.' They both replied far too quickly. Looking like idiots, they both blushed.
Dillon bit his tongue, hard. 'You're lodgings will be down here for the moment I'm afraid, we've arranged a nice room above the kitchen until we can clear out some useless rooms at the Chateau, terribly sorry. Good day.'
The Captain grumbled and rode off right away. Dillon stared down at the Lieutenant. 'Yes?'
'Oh, err..' Doyle stumbled over his words. 'I'd like to ask a few questions.. sir.' He bit his lip.
Dillon's nose wrinkled. 'What the hell about?' Then saw his face. 'Oh.'
Alot of people asked that. Hardly any of the standard line regiments where sent there, but they simply had no one to do the job there in Newfoundland. No soldiers atleast. The Regiment had been ordered to march onto Native territory and drive them out in search for more raw materials and resources.
They had set out on good spirits.
Even though the terrain was rough and the weather freezing, they marched on through every obstacle to get to their objective.
Yet there was a severe lack of maps in North America, and they were marching in mainly unchatered territory, the Regiment got lost quickly.
The natives on the other hand had little issue's navigating the terrain. The lone Regiment was quickly spotted, encirled, and ambushed.
That's all he knew about the fight, a lance went through his mounts ribs and he fell, the men dragged him away as they fell back. No. 6 & 7 Company provided a rearguard as the rest of the Regiment retreated to Newfoundland through the winter.
By the time they made it back they lost a quarter of their men. More wounded. He was getting sick of telling the story.
They had set out on good spirits.
Even though the terrain was rough and the weather freezing, they marched on through every obstacle to get to their objective.
Yet there was a severe lack of maps in North America, and they were marching in mainly unchatered territory, the Regiment got lost quickly.
The natives on the other hand had little issue's navigating the terrain. The lone Regiment was quickly spotted, encirled, and ambushed.
Dillon shut his eyes tight for a moment and took a soft, slow breathe into his lungs. About him the world shook, they were out in the open, and he could see them waiting in the tree's. It was already to late, with a shrieking cry dark horses bolted from the treelines and charged at the marching column. Dillon screamed his orders at once. 'REGIMENT! Form Square!'
He turned his horse around and waited in the middle of the newly made square, staring at the enemy. They had lances, their horses looked strong and war-trained, he new they'd break through. They hit first on the right hand side, their horses smashed men into the air and stampeded their bodies into the snow. Their spears stabbed into tunics and tore No. 9 Company straight to hell. No. 8 Company quickly formed a new line on the right, levelling muskets and blasting them away.
'Hold! HOLD THEM!'
More were coming. Dillon heard their screams, he turned his horse just in time, they were close, it was too late for a volley, he drew his sword. 'Make ready boys! Take their horses down first!'
The savage beasts smashed the square and steamrolled in, thrusting at anything on the ground, men helplessly squirmed and crawled away from the savages, Dillon raised his sword and charged.
He turned his horse around and waited in the middle of the newly made square, staring at the enemy. They had lances, their horses looked strong and war-trained, he new they'd break through. They hit first on the right hand side, their horses smashed men into the air and stampeded their bodies into the snow. Their spears stabbed into tunics and tore No. 9 Company straight to hell. No. 8 Company quickly formed a new line on the right, levelling muskets and blasting them away.
'Hold! HOLD THEM!'
More were coming. Dillon heard their screams, he turned his horse just in time, they were close, it was too late for a volley, he drew his sword. 'Make ready boys! Take their horses down first!'
The savage beasts smashed the square and steamrolled in, thrusting at anything on the ground, men helplessly squirmed and crawled away from the savages, Dillon raised his sword and charged.
That's all he knew about the fight, a lance went through his mounts ribs and he fell, the men dragged him away as they fell back. No. 6 & 7 Company provided a rearguard as the rest of the Regiment retreated to Newfoundland through the winter.
By the time they made it back they lost a quarter of their men. More wounded. He was getting sick of telling the story.
And thats it
Nothing amazing really, but I've got nothing better to do. Well I do, but I'm lazy. Hope you enjoys. I'll start writing proper stories about the regiment next update.
