DLV - France's Musketeers

[Warluster]

A Deus lo Vult AAR
Based on the Story of the Musketeers of the Guard

AAR Info

This AAR covers the story of the Musketeers of the Guard. Historical Info is not spot on. There are four Companies.

The Scottish Company - THis Company was formed in 1440, but it ceases to be pure Scottish.
1st French Company - These soldiers a re Pikemen. Formed in 1475
2nd French Company- These soldiers are pure Musketeers. Formed in 1479
3rd French Company - These men are Musketeers, there are some foreign soldiers in this Company. Formed in 1516.

I shall be using the Campaign, except it will only be there to decipher what I'm doing, most battles shall be fought through Custom battles.


The Year is 1524, France's neighbor, the Holy Roman Empire has been thrown into a Civil War. The fomrations by Martin Luther against the Papal States has disfavored the Empire in French eyes. While german Peasents and Nobles rebel. THe French play no part, but send a the 1st and 2nd French Companes of the Musketeers of Guard to help the rebels.

The Frnehc, when travelling to the Town of Frankfurt, are stalled. A German Scout Party has been sent to stop them, and can overpower the Companies easily with a unit of Gothic Knights and 2 units of Spear Militia. The only aid to the French is two Reigments of Templar Knights which are estimated kilomaters away.

The French have to hold off the Germans, until reinforcements arrive.

[Warluster]

1524, Lombardy.

The sky was a forget-me-not blue, clouds drifting sleepily overhead.

But on the land, things weren't as creamy. A river, which ran though the lands, was in the middle of what was to be a battlefield. A single bridge lay there.

The French Musketeers stood, taunting the Germans across the river, behind them stood a solid wall of Pikemen, the pikes in a spearwall. The enemy horsemen, the dreaded Gothic Knights, heaved their lances to their shoulders, pulled down theirs visors, and set theirs eyes on the enemy.

The 1st and 2nd Company of the Musketeer of the Guard.



"How do you think we ill go?" asked the Company Commander of the Musketeers, a soldier looked at him.
"Sir, how the bloody hell am I supposed to know!? I'm just a Musketeer!" exclaimed the man, shaking his head, the man pulled out his musket, and from his shoulder, he looked down his sights.
"Now sir, once we've shot every bloody crapaud, I want some loot, thats a code we stand by. So go for the richest idiot. That one looks good..." he was watching a Gothic Knight who had a expensive looking plate armor on,which had what looked like a Turkish emblem.

The Commander drew his sword, and did a chopping action.
"Fire at will!" he ordered, drawing his own musket. leveling it off, he aimed at a rich Knight. Beside him a man stumbled backwards as he musket shot, the force hard. In the officers ear there was a almighty crack, a bullet nipped his ear as it flew past.
"Sorry sir, didn't see you" said the man, but the officer didn't hear him, as he was deaf from that ear.

The hammer clicked, and the gunpowder set off, as the inside cracked and ejected the bullet. The force threw his houlder back, but the officer steadied himself. He looked back,
"You! Your bloody lucky you didn't kill me, i can't hear a bloody thing from that ear!" he roared as a musket next to him banged. The officer shook his head and pulled up his green shorts.



"Damm it!" exclaimed the General,
"The bloody soldiers coming at us the Goth's! Their just Spearmen!" he roared, the air was crackling with musket noise, so no one heard him.

The Musketeers watched as the enemy spearmen fell like ucks, blood flew up high into the air. The officer was entranced as he saw his musket ball fly into a soldiers leg, who stumbled sideways and ran into a second man, who fell over the side of the bridge. He was brought back when someone fired next to him, making him jump.




All of a sudeen, the enemy was there.



The bridge thundered, as the air went silent. Smoke hung in the air though, and the Pikemen's sights were blurred. The front row of Musketeers stripped and stumbled, as they pushed each other out of the way. The Enemy Spearmen were at the end of the bridge, and the Musketmen. One ran straight into his allies pike,, then sliding off into his own blood.
"RUN! RUN LIKE THE DEVILS DOG IS FOLLOWING YOU!" roared the officer, firing a last shot which completely smashed a spearmens skull, sneding him flying.

But they were too late, the Spearmen caught up, as one musketeer caught s spear through the chest, as he screamed ht eothers drew their sabers, and turned to fight, or die.


But the officer was going to welcome death, he stood, his saber not drawn, in the middle of the enemies mass.

All of a sudden, the Musketmen retreated, running frantically behind the pikemen. THe mass of spearmen closed in, one Spearmen threw his spear at a musktman, and caught him at the back of the knee, then drew a sword and finished him.


The Pikemen were engagded,
"We can't hold them!' roared one, as a sword thrust into his heart.
"We can't fall back. This is we're we die!" he roared.
"Gothic Knights!" said a solider, the Gothic Knights charged in.
"We have to hold- UH!" roared the COmmander, as he was crushed underneath the Knights. Leaderless, the Pikemen were losing. They tried to set th epikes to get the horses, but infantry were in the way.



The German COmmander hacked at the mass of Pikemen, laughing crazily. THe Musketeers watched the frenzy from behind the Pikemen. They were being slaughtered.
"All is lost" said one man, another nodded.
"We have to retreat, we can not win this battle. the King will know... for now Germany is a lost battle" he said bitterly,watching the frenzy.
"RETREAT!" he raored, as the Pikemen disinergrated.




The battleifield was a mess,the German general grinnedas he looked down at the ground, his feathered cap flapping in the breeze as a horrible smell of blood rose.
"We have stopped the French vanguard, now to stop the invasion" he chuckled. A Gothic Knight approached him dismounted,
"Sir, a clear victory for us. What do we do now?" he asked,
"Continue with the Frank Offensive" he said, droppiing his lance and lifting his visor.

****
"Sir, we are retreating to Dijon to meet with the other companies, then we shall continue" reported the man, since Captain Louis was dead, the Sergeant was Captain.
"Yes. Losses?" he said to another man,
"17 Musketeers, 65 Pikemen" the Captain swore,
"Dammit, they were irreplaceable vetreans!" He swore again.
"And sir, the King is not happy"
"Tell him... we're goong back out"
"Yes sir"

[Warluster]

Chapter 2

A heavy, thick fog smothered the soldiers, who were standing on some German Plains early in the morning. Men jumped, paced and fiddled with their muskets. All was quiet. Quiet as a death of old age. Many these man would never die like, but in screaming pain.

A cry rose through the fog, a cry not human, but horse. It sent spikes into mens nerves, as nothing happened.
"Muskets at the ready, double line formation" repeated a Captain as he walked past the line of Musketeers.


A flag whipped and glided, as the fog twisted and turned around it, giving no shape. Nervously, the soldiers cocked their muskets. The Captain drew his pistol, pointing it into the fog.

No one could see over five metres ahead of them. The shadow of the flag became clearer, and the sign of the Holy Roman Empire was printed on it. Like death, a ringing sound of swords being drawn could be heard, and the distant sound of hooves thudding onto earth.

And then the fog glided and folded over shapes of men mounted on horses, most bearing swords by their sides. The solid, colourful sight of a sword then came forward, followed by mounted Gothic Knights.
"Fire!" roared the Captain.

Thus, the battle began.

And thence, the lives of many murderous soldiers was claimed.

2 Weeks Before

"Bloody hell, they're leaving us hanging here!" yelled the Captain in frustration. He was referring to the annoying fact that they'd received no letters or news from HQ in Paris.
"Sir, maybe they don't know yet? Maybe they are s-"
"I bloody well know them! And they've done this before, damn them! The Monarch is angry with me..." and murmured, voicing his secret fear.

It had been at least one month since the disatorous battle at Lombardy. Nothing had happened, bar the fact the Companies had set up camp far back, to the mountains south of Dijon. There was rows of tents, for the platoons. Then the Food Mess, and Command Tent.

Steadily, the beating of hoovs was heard, nad around the corner, appeared a man, fitted with the colors of France. He was mounted upon a messenger steed. He rode up to the Captain, and unfolded a letter.
"Captain Pierson,
The General-in-Cheif of the F.E.C has sent me to inform you on many things. First of all, you are going to be reinforced in at least 6 hours of receiving this message. Second of all, you are elevated to the rank of Captain, after the unfortunate death of your supreiors. Thus, you receive this Officers Cane, and this scroll offcially promoting you. Fourthly, in at least one weeks time you are to enagage a small German Gunpowder Army, Colonel Adrian shall inform you of that. My dearest luck sent to you, from General Francis" the man handed Pierson, the Captain, a small Cane, and scroll. The man bowed, and rode away, leaving Pierson there.

The F.E.C was a prestigous order. it was located in paris, its HQ, and commanded the Musketeers of the Guard, and the Kings Bodyguards and all companies which were the Elite of the French Army. THe Gerdanmes, the Musketeers of the Guard and Kings Bodyguards. General Francis was the Comander of it.

Soon, trumpets and drums announced a noisy arrival of the rest of the Corps. The 1st Scottish Company and 3rd French Company. One Archers and other Musketeers. Captain Pierson stood by the entrance, and saluted as the Scottish Company marched by, bows by their sides and arrows ready. A man, mounted, rode up to Pierson, and saluted, before beckoning him to follow.

The mand ismounted in front of the COmmand Tent, and entered, closely followed by Captain Pierson. The man, presumably Colonel Adrian, was tall, and had short blonde hair. He layed a map upon the table. He shook Pierson's hand.
I am Colonel Adrian, I presume you are Captain Pierson?" he asked,
"Yes sir"
"Good, good. We shall wait for my other Captains, and then set up our offensive, and rest. THen we leave for attack." he declared, walking outside.
"Already sir?" asked the Captain as he followed Adrian outside.
"Of course we are man! Or do you wish for this grass to envelope us with age!?" he replied sarcasticlly. His attitude suprised Pierson, Colonels were supposed to be courteous.

Soon, all Captains stood in the command tent, peering at the map. The Colone stood at front. He stabbed a finger at the map,
"Now gentlemen, I propose we stage the attack here." he told them, he was pointing at a area which was somewhat hilly. A river ran through the plains.
"We can defend the bridge easily against the Cavarly, and hold off the Handgunners with range." he said, most of the others agreed, but Pierson had experinced Bridge Battles firsthand, and spoke up,
"Sir, it may sound very easy, but fighting Gothic Knights on a bridge is not as cosy as it sounds. They shall storm over us, wash the pavements with our blood! With our muskets shooting at the Handgunners, the Gothic Knights can use a flanking manevur" Pierson pointed out, the other Captains seemed the idea absurd. But the Colonel smilied,
"I like your tactics Pierson, very good. You are definetly right, we shall attack them in the hills. Going uphill, they can never win!" he declared, and banged his hand on the table.
"Decision made, we move, TODAY!" he roared.

And thus, the battle was set up.

2 Weeks Later

Colonel Adrian was nervous. Very nervous. He wasn't usually like this before a battle, he was usually confident. Smart, not nervous. But now he was, he had never predicted the heavy fog. And the Gothic Knights could easily attack, from behind.


Pierson was no diffrent. All along the line, the Musketmen were pulling the triggers. Repeatedly, the musket hammer clicked, the gunpowder set off, and the musket barged back into their shoulder. The smoke rose, and mixed with the fog, though darker. The day wasn't any lighter.

A twang, whistle, and arrows were flying overhead. Silent, unlike their musket counterparts. The arrows penertrated the darkness, hitting the dark shapes of the Gothic Knights, but the arrows merely bounced off, sometimes hitting a unlucky stray leg or arm.

Slowly, but surely, they came. And the panic grew. Not many fell, the occasional musket ball felling one. Only two thudded to the ground, mortally wounded or dead. And then they were there.

"Retreat to behind the Pike Line!" roared Captain Pierson, as the Gothic Knights charged in. There was the steady thump of boots, and the thud as Musketeer Boots hit the ground. Pierson drew his officers sword, a short,slim saber. As did the others.

The Gothic Knights, instead of a head on charge, turnedeast, then back west. And rode along the Musketeer lines, hacking them down safely.

Pierson grinded his teeth, as he saw the Enemy Commander who'd been at the battle in Lombardy. THe man, his face hidden, turned to Pierson, but seemed to ignore him. Pierson nodded as he ran past the 3 rows of Pikemen, they merely gulped nervously.

THe ground littered with dead musketeer bodies, the Gothic Knights taunted the Pikemen, riding back and forth in front of them.
"THe cheek of it all, sir" commented a soldier to Pierson.



And then, they came. The Gothic Knights boldy charged around the flank of the Pikemen, the men wheeling around hurridly. The Musketmen readied for an attack. But the Knights charged away.


And the Pikemen broke.



Broke running, they threw away their pikes, and drew their swords, and screamed as they charged towards the Knights.
The two Companies clashed, striking each other in turn. One Pikeman fell down, cut. And seconds later, a Gothic Knight stumbled from his horse. Duelling happened, each, suprisnly, equal.

Soon, the enemy was broken. Running for their lives, the Commander slashed at the Captain as he passed, the Captain kneeling and parrying with his sword.


The Pikemen brandished their swords int he air, some dancing around with Knight Helmets on their heads. But soon, the Handgunners were running, intent on revenge. Some cries went out, but a puff of smoke from the enemy, and Pikemen fell to the ground, writhing in pain. A enemy company threw away their guns, and drew swords and charged, engaging the Pikemen.

THe battle was somewhat easy, the two forces met at the same time. One Pikeman jumped sideways, knocking out a Gunner with his weight, while slashing at a second gunner, cutting him. A Gunner ran up to the man next to him, and kicked him in the groin.


Soon, the enemy was panicky. The word of;
"Rückzug!"
The ran, ran back to their allied companies.


The Pikemen were victorious! But victory was not secured so simply. The enemy was advancing up the hill, while the Scottish Archers steadily rained arrows upon the incoming gunners.


And then,they were there. THe fight was that of the last one, the enemy rushed in. But they were btter now, andswung their heavy swords before they got there, and made contact with the Pikemen.

Thats why they were slaughtered.

The ground was red, completely red. It was as if the earth it self wept, wept for the number of dieing men fighting on its soil. Wept for the mothers who received the news.

Wept for the day, and all its meaning.



And then, the battle was over. THe enemy fled to the hills, the Devils of France waiting behind them. Colonel Adrian walked up to Captain Pierson, and slapped him on the back.
"YOur bloody angels! Amazing, marvelous. Paris shall be alight with this gloriuous news!"
"Sir, we're the Musketeers of the Guard"

And so they were, Musketeers of the Guard. And fromt then on, for the one battle where the Pikemen fought off a whole army. They were;

The Devils of France.

[Odin]

Nice and original, Bravo.

[Warluster]

Chapter 3


Captain Pierson dully paced in front of the Church. More of a Catherdral.

He was in Paris, it had been some hard three monthes since the Battle in Germany. A nervous Priest shuffled past, staring intently at the ground. Pierson watched him until he was inside the CHurch, then continued pacing as music came from within. He had been perfectly fine at camp, and there wre others you Colonel Adrian could've sent.

A woman and her child waddled past, the child peering curiously at Pierson, a strong built soldier wearing a Officers Uniform, the woman glancing every now and then, plainly nervous.



Pierson once again paced. Francis must've demanded he come, so he could talk to him. And of course, there was the fact General Francis had called upon Pierson to come personally to the CHurch, and alone, and not too his COmmanding Station.

The bells clanged overhead, as people busied themselves in the square. Pierson looked up, and it looked like the top of the Catherdral seemed to strech on, and on and on....

"Pierson! You came!" a rough hand drew Pierson's gaze and concentration back to ground. He found General Francics standing, loooking unusally friendly.
"Lets walk, shall we?" stated Francis, and steered Pierson, not waiting for a answer. A awful smell floated past, and a man was pushing a cart full of cow manure. Grimacing, the two officers continued, until they were at the end of the square.
"From the look on your face Captain, it seems your wondering what the hell I called you here for? Yes?" Francis seemed to suggest it to thin air, speaking awfully casual. Pierson nodded dumbly. Francis's chest seemed to heave, as he boomed with laughter.
"Well, let us not dawdle? Eh?" He chuckled, and adding in a whisper, "Walk casual, we're being watched." he said, sparing a throwaway look over his shoulder. Soon, they were walking in a dark alleyway.

He raised a hand to stop Pierson, and faced him.
"Sorry about that. The King and his government has seen fit to keep a watch on the F.E.C now, and we no longer control the Kings Bodyguard. I konw' he responded to Pierson's shocked look.
"They also have been trying to track me to see if I meet any... rebels lets say. Of course, those trackers never come back, do they?" he grinned mischeviously. He was obiously not the type you'd want to meet on a cold dark night in the countryside.

"Now Pierson, I have called you here today, to give your Corps the orders. The King was severely impressed by the victory, and has deemed you a nickname of France's Devils. As have the people." Francis gave him a small scroll, which contained orders to Colonel Adrian.
"No my friend, I have called you here to tell you something. The F.E.C has decided... the Musketeers of the Guard do not have enough soldiers. SO we are forming a new Company. The 4th French Company, and the German legion. You my friend, are elevated to the new rank of Lieutenant. You shall train and command those two Companies, and command two new Captains, all of your choice. Do not fail me Lieutenant Pierson, as I have argued and crapped on to the General Board for days to give you this position. Now be gone, I shall meet you tomorrow at 10, so we can choose two new Captains. Then to Rheims! Now be gone!" Francis strolled away so fast, Pierson thought he'd disappeared.

As he was walking back to his slum, he relised he had never spoken the whole time, only listented. Piersons hrugged it off, no worries. For now.



The next day, Pieraon glummly searched the streets for some sign of a miliatary establishment. He had no directions, and no help. People rushed past, taking no care not too shove into him. A small boy ran past him, knocking into him. THe boy bounced backwards, but rebounded away.

At once Pierson knew something was wrong, he felt lighter. He cluchted for his money, and found nothing. The boy was not so innocent. Fuming, Pierson leaped after him. Rushing through the crowd, who watched the boy run amused, then stumble backwards as a big Officer came roaring through.
Soon, Pierson was gripping the boys shirt, holding him. Nervously, the boy handed him his money bag, then raced off, grinning.

A hand came forward from the shadows, and tapped Pierson on the houlder. Without looking, Pierson muttered,
"Yes?"
"Your Lieutenant Pierson?" asked the voice, the person still not revealed.
"Yes"
"Good, don't turn to face me, or look like your talking. Those peasents digging that hole over there?" The hand pointed to some poorly dressed man furiously digging a hole.
"yeah? What about 'em?"
"There loyal spies for the Monarchy, watching your every move. Yh danm that little..." They watched as the small kid who took Piersons money siddled over to some Guards, and pointed in his direction. The hand gripped piersons shirt and tugged, pulling him into the shadows.

The man, was a Musketeer. He wore a feathered hat, and boots with buckles and a sharp edge to it. he beckoned him forward, and soob they rushing into the darkness as a voice crept after them...
"A Lieutenant did you say boy?! Tell the truth!!" yelled a voice, echoing ghostly off the walls.
"he was! He was! Pulled a knife and tried to do away with me!" squaled the boy. Soon though the voices were lost.

And even sooner the two men were stopping short of a grand building. As the other man entered, he took off his hat, and Pierson followed his actions. The place was full of shining geatness. The ceilings had religous paintings, the floor tiled with a mosaic. The area littered with rich furtintue. A man bearing the sign of the F.E.C came out, his face set grimmly.
"Uh, Corporal Mariius and Lieutenant Pierson?" inquired the man, seating himself behind a finely carved table.
"Yes." rumbled Mariius.
"Just in there, Mariius you go through there, and Pierson, though there to where the F.E.C Board is waiting." Nodding coutreously Pierson walked though the now open door, to find himself standing into a roomfull of people. All staring at him.

They were seated at a large table, which curved so it surrounded the door. Old men sat in the chairs, fumbling with papers or chatting to each other.
Pierson, spotting Francis's frantic beckons seated himself next to him.

Soon, the room was deadly quiet. Pierson felt like he was waiting to murder someone... it was just like the battle in germany, those two months ago... the mist folded over the soldiers... No! He mustn't think of that. And then a loud bang sounded to his right, and the screaming of a man... No! He must concentrate on hand!

The door opened, and in came Mariius. A very old man, who looked like he could have a heart attack any minute, coughed and spoke as Mariius seated himself.
"You are Corporal Mariius? Yes, I see. May you tell us your rather proud traits and experinces, and where you fought." the old man whispered, he seemed too old to speak loudly.
"I was given a battlefield promotion, after saving a cranky old Majors bloody life, spare the language, I have fought in New Orealns in the New World, I ahve also fought in The Netherlands and Sardina. A very able Captain U'd say sirs." he finished, straightening.
"Good, when you please please bring in..."
"Mr. Pascal and Mr. Reine." added Francis. For another two hours, they listened to many men, all in the Army and wanting to be the Captain. The three Pierson liked was Mariius, Reine and Samuel. Reine was a very much gentlemen, the exact oppostie of Mariius, whom was a roughead. Samuel was a serious, honest man, or as Francis described him...
"The exact opposite of a soldier, let alone a Musketeer!"
In the end, Pierson picked Mariius and Reine. After a days hard work, eh returned to his slum, thinking of his now old Compnay, now camped in Marseilles.

The Same time in Marseilles...

Colonel Adrian breathed deeply, as a wave clapped and roared, as it smashed against the rocks of the coastline. A deep thundering noise was in the air, the noise of the sea. Seagulls screeched their exsitence overhead, as the moon twinkled overhead.

A single light struch on the horizon, a single, fluttering light. Soon followed by another, and another, and another... Adrian yelled out in asomewhat panic, as the outline of a mast came upon them. Men rushed to his side, cocking their muskets and aiming, looking deeply troubled... and tired.

But it was gone, the lights. And instead a large wave crashed through, and thundered against the rocks, sprayin up.
"need some sleep sir?" suggested a Musketeer, slumping off ti his bed.

Had Adrian imagined it? It must've been ships, but the Germans had no navy... Perhaps he had no sleep.

But one nagging thing told him it was ships.

Scouts.
Scouts of their enemy, all the diffrent from eachother.
His, for now, his one great enemy.

Was fear, and deep, deep suspicon.

The Devils, were lumbering. And those who walk at night.

Were awake.

[Warluster]

Chapter 4

Colonel Adrian leaned over a dirty piece of parchment, writing fast and furious. The lamp next to him flickered as a cool sea breeze blew through the window. Adrian was writing to the HQ, telling them of the visitors.

Dear General Francis,

He straightened up, thinking, then bent over and started writing again.

I write to you at this moment, to inform you of some unknown visitors. The yesternight, there was a display of flashing

Adrian paused,

lights from what we presumed to be the moon reflecting on the waves. As the soldiers said. I, for one, know it was no such thing. The others must've been overly exhausted, but the moon was not out. And for another, I swear I could've seen a shape flicker past. Please, sorry for my overly suspicous attidtide, but I believe these people were invaders scouting our shoreline.

I request the ability to move the Corps away from Marseille and along the coast, so we may take get whoever it is.

Yours Truly,
Colonel Adrian of the Musketeers of the Guard,

Adrian finished the letter with a loopy signature, and stamped it, then put it in a envelope and sealed it. he placed it on the bench, and leaned back contentdly. He heard someone enter, and looked around. It was a Captain. His eyes wandered around the cabin, and landed on the envelope, finally ending on the Colonel.
"Hello sir." He said stiffly.
"What may you be wanting Captain?" asked the Colonel briskly, turning around and folding a crease in the parchment.
"Writing to General Francis sir?" asked the man, Adrian paused in replying, was he being to suspicous, or was this man a bit too inquisitive...
"I must say, Captain, it is none of your buisness." replied Adrian, staring the man in the eye. The man saluted and left. Adrian turned back and watched the man retreat to his cabin.

The corps was obviously ridden with spies and sticky beaks. They were not alone.

IN Paris, a week later

General Francis sipped his tea, he had just finished reading Adrian's letter to him, and was thinking it over. There had been rumors of Spanish Galleons being sighted off the coast of Southern France. Farmers had also reported seing signs of the cross on the water, and several other prewarnings of disaster to come. But why would the Spanish have to do with France?

The door behind him opened, and in entered Pierson.
"Pierson" Greeted Francis, his eyes not straying from his intent survey of his fingertips, "I was expecting you." There was moments of silence, then-
"You have your first assignment." Francis said to Pierson, "Your to take the German Foreign Legion, and go to a marked position in Southern France."
"Why sir?"
"Lets just, your gonna here 'morir' a lot, now go." THis, was a dismissal.

3 Weeks Later

Lieutenant Pierson stood on a clifface, watching the waves crash against the rocks, seagulls screeching overhead. But it changed, the crashing of waves turned into the bang and smash of a musket, the seagulls screeching turned into the sound of dieing, screaming men...
"Lieutenant?" asked a voice, sounding worried. Pierson realised he was on his knees. his eyes closed. A hand pulled him up, and he forced himself to look. It was Captain Reine.
"Yes, Captain?" asked the Lieutenant, plainly stating he didn't want to talk about what just happened. With a worried look, Reine continued.
"Three Spanish Transport ships are rowing in shore, they know we're here." Reine told him, at once Pierson was off. He ran through the thick forest, twigs snapping feebly beneath him, Forest creatures cawing or growling. Soon he erupted into a camp, a camp in a panic.

Men were rushing around, readying for battle. Gunpowder drifted in the air, and French and German voices filled the air. Reine came out behind him, as Mariius stomped by, following a agitated Musketeer. Just as Pierson was wondering how to reinstate order, the ground trembled.

Everyone stopped, right in their tracks. Everyone, everything was listening. THe trees seemed to be listening, the grass, the ground. All waiting for something they hoped to be their imagination. And then, once again, a plumenting sound, and the ground shook again. It was as worse as before, instead of a rush to prepare for battle, it was a rush to hide for cover. Pierson, followed by Reine and Mariius, ran through the forest, and found their attacker.

A large, SPanish Galleon was planted on the horizon, a plume of smoke erupted from it, and the whistling of a bomb went overhead. THe ground split up behind them, spewing up dirt. And the screaming started. A man was hit. At once Pierson collasped, clawing his head. Mariius and Reine tried to help, shaking and hitting him. Pierson though, merely twicthed on the ground.

The Commander drew his sword, and did a chopping action.
"Fire at will!" he ordered, drawing his own musket. leveling it off, he aimed at a rich Knight. Beside him a man stumbled backwards as he musket shot, the force hard. In the officers ear there was a almighty crack, a bullet nipped his ear as it flew past.
"Sorry sir, didn't see you" said the man, but the officer didn't hear him, as he was deaf from that ear.



Pierson screamed in real life, remebering that day.

The German COmmander hacked at the mass of Pikemen, laughing crazily. THe Musketeers watched the frenzy from behind the Pikemen. They were being slaughtered. Pierson watched, horrified. As a arm split nearby, and the man started screaming, he nearly fainted. A bang, and a nearby gun set off...


"NO!! NO!! NOT THE CAPTAIN!" screamed Pierson, clawing his face. then he went loose. Mariius, picked him up under the arms, and together he and Reine pulled him back to camp, a smell of a bomb lingered. Soldiers watched, entranced, as their leader was dragged past.

Gently, Mariius and Reine placed him on his bed, where he slept peacefully, as all hell broke loose outside.

A Few Hours Later
The Captain smiled at him.
"It shall work perfectly Pierson." The Captain told him, Pierson was only a Sergeant. Him and a Captain were walking through Dijon, talking. The Captain smilied at him,
"Nervous?" he asked, a knowing look in his eyes. At once a bang went off, as the man behind Pierson exploed in a pool of blood...

"Stop... No.... Take me, not the Captain!" muttered Pierson, shaking. Someone was shaking him.
"Wake up sir, the Spaianards are coming through the forest!" Reine was shaking him, Pierson shot up and was out the door, his saber drawn. Soon, he was standing at the head of their Corps. Colonel Adrain turned, and saluted.

Adrain surveyed the Battlefield as Pierson took up his position behind the German Legion and 4th Company. The woods in front were thick, hard to see through and shoot through.


Something moved amonsgst the trees ahead. Pointing with his saber at where it disappeared, he yelled
"Fire!" At once the line of soldiers fired, whipped the trees as such.


Almost at once Spanish soldiers appeared, swords by their sides, glinting in the sunshine.


"Easy, there far away." joked a nearby Musketman. Pierson twisted around, as someone burst from the nearby bushes. Spanish peasents, at least 80. Pierson twisted and turned, duelling a fiearce one. And sidestepped and hacked his head off. At once the blood sprayed upon his face, but he kept hacking and slahing. Blood coating him, he stepped upon ones head, a snap was heard, screaming...


He quickly paried and turned, and then hacked off a mans arm, as the man screamed in pain, and Pierson glanced up. More were coming.


And Pierson ran with his soldiers, swords on their feet. Running to the safety of Pikemen. But they were there.


Pierson looked around, Mariius was fighting his way towards Pierson. Spanish soldiers advanced hungrily. A victim in front of them. Pierson blocked and hacked, and victory was near. But at once a heavily armed man came through, grinning.
The Gothic Knight.
"Pierson hey? Remeber?" asked the man.

Pierson ducked and looked around, smoke rose from a nearby building. Someone tackled him from behind, and he fell forwards into the blood as another shoot rang out.

The Gothic Knight lumbered forwards, and threw his sword arm forward, running his sword straight through Pierson. There was several moments of shock, as Piersons eyes widened in realization, and Mariius gasped and stooped, then he crumpled.

Dead.

Dead like so many others.



And soon, the Mustkeers and Pikemen were running, running for the bits of lives they had.



The Spanish had come.

[Warluster]

CHapter 5

It was a sad day, when the lives of many are lost. They are forgotten, left on thou fields of battle. But when a officer dies, they are given the highest honor.

A funeral.

This day it was Lieutenant Pierson's funeral. Soldiers stood respectfully in a line, behind a wooden coffin. In front of that coffin stood a large hole, big enough for it to fit in. THe sky was a dark color, the wind was a mourn.

Soon though, trumpets were playing. And bagpipes being played by the Scottish Company. A entourage came walking down the aisle, at first came two Pikemen, both dragging their Pikes behind them in the sand. Then came some Musketeers dragging their muskets.

Behind them came Pierson's Family, Colonel Adrian and Captains Mariius and Reine. They all stopped in front of the coffin, all was silent. Finnaly the Musketeers standing behind the coffin unslung their muskets from their shoulder, and aimed it sky high.
"Fire!" Ordered a voice, and all at once the shots rang out in a tune. Then some men lifted the coffin, and for one final second it glinted in the sun, and then, it was placed in its grave. Another reminder that they weren't living in times of peace.

And sadly they all left, filing out of the graveyard and leaving. Some sobbing and crying, some just grim faced. But when all was silent, when all were gone, out came a man.

THe man was armored, he looked down upon the grave of Pierson, and smilied.
"We got you in the end. If only you told us where the last one was." murmured the man, and he saluted to the grave and turned on the spot and walked away.

The Captain shook Pierson urgently.
"Co'mon, they know we're here!" He yelled, as people around them back away. A musketball chipped the stone near Pierson, who was standing and running quickly and urgently towards the nearest house. Pierson's Captain, Louis, kicked down the door and the two bottled up inside. Out of the shadows came a man, Samuel.
"Good, good. You made it." He said deeply, observing the two Musketeers.
"All planned? Ready for some assasaination?" He asked slyly. The door buckled as another musketball hit it. Pierson looked outside, THe Kings Bodyguard were out there. In fact, the whole city of Dijon was out there.

All looking for him and Captain Louis.

Paris, One Week Later

The Corps had arrived the day before, retreating from the bloodbath of Southern France. Several French Armies had been sent down, as the Spanish sent several armies over the border and sieged Toulouse. France was paniked, how could they be attacked in such times? THere were rumors of the English attacking as well near Rennes.

All up, France was under siege.

Colonel Adrian was requested at the HQ, for their next assignment. So this morning, he was standing before the Board of F.E.C. General Francis sat in the middle of the circle of old men.
"Colonel Adrian of the Musketeers of the Guard. The Corps is now to be moved to the New World. THe Spanish are top be attacked there." Francis told him, watching for his reaction. Adrian's mind turned over, it would take years to get there. And they would have to scout the coastline, find a good spot to land, and there would be wonders never discovered by Europeans...
"Well?" The word brought him back to reality.
"Yes sirs, when do we leave?" asked Adrian.
"Tomorrow sharp." muttered a old man as Adrian turned and left.
****************
The sea seemed to caw loudly, as if welcoming back the Corps again. The men bore bags with food, their muskets slung over there arms. Several Galleons were moored in front of them. They were at a expensive, silent Port. THere was no one else to know of their departure. Accompanying the Corps was another Corps, with 500 men. These were simple swordsmen, Pikemen and a Unit of Dragoons.

Adrian stood to the side, as Seagulls circled overhead. A fat, lazy Pelican waddled nearby, watching. The Two Corps eventually were loading for the long trip which would take at least two years. And there, they would encounter unknow wonders.

And unknown horrors.



(NOTE: Afterwards from this Chapter,Chapter 6,7,8,9,etc. I shall be using M2TW Kingdoms Expansion pack to keep up with the Story. There I shall proably do the same as before, Custom battles where I verus the Apaches etc. But the Campaign Map shall be used. Now forth DLV is not being used. Vanilla M2TW Kingdoms.)