forum Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]

Started December 04, 2018 by @KalamariCakes

tune

~~~

"Chin up!" The short man snapped, looking down the lign of soldiers. Next to Pierre was a nervous Francis.

Pierre did as he was told, praying that his young friend would do the same. The sun beat down on his back, but he pretended not to notice, focusing only on the commander.

"All of you! We are running from here to Tytus River, I will be in the back and if I see anyone lagging behind they'll be the ones to wash horse shit and stay on guard for the next three nights! Go!"

"Where's Tytus River?!" Francis asked in frantic panic. The river had to be at least three miles away.

Pierre kept his eyes straight ahead as they began to run, not daring to look sideways. “Just follow me,” he muttered through the side of his mouth. “Look forward, chin up, dont get distracted.”

The kid scrambled after him, balling his fists while he kept up. "It's so hot," he wheezed.

“Better get used to it,” he muttered back.

Francis shut his mouth and ran beside Pierre. Geoffrey was a few strides ahead, huffing out with every other footfall in a paternized strategy.

Up ahead, Pierre could see Louis, easily passing everyone.

Francis easily began to lose his momentum. The kid started to wheeze pretty heavily– they weren't even through half of the first mile.

Pierre cursed inwardly, wishing he could grab hold of the kid and pull him along. But if the commander saw him doing that… he’d be in deep shit, to say the least.

"Ah- hhh," the kid hissed through his teeth. His run had already become a lame scramble, looking like his legs were made from lead, freckled cheeks flushed hot red with exasperation.

Pierre was gaining steadily, knowing that if he turned back now he’d also be in deep shit. Swearing under his breath, he tossed a quiet reassurance over his shoulder. “Just breathe, one step at a time, go slower if you need to. Measure your pace.”

"I can't," he gasped in his high-pitched voice, scrunching his quaint-featured face.

Pierre clenched his jaw, slowing down enough so that he wasn’t out of earshot. “Unless you want to be cleaning horse shit, you gotta.”

"Damnit," he exhaled, trying to push himself a little faster, though his wheezes became more whistling and full of struggle.

Pierre glued his eyes on the horizon ahead, making sure he kept close to the middle of the group, but not too far from Francis. He could see the river in the distance, but there was still a long stretch of land to cover.

Francis's gasps started to wane down into silence, and then a pitiful thud.

(Aw poor bb)

Pierre winced, his heart squeezing. He was torn; should he keep running or turn back to help the boy up? Francis wouldn’t learn anything from being soft, he might need a rude awakening. But on the other hand, he couldn’t bear to leave him down like that. At least if he turned back, the commander might ease the blame on Francis and place some of it on him…

Sighing wearily, he slowed, turned, and returned to the young boy who had no idea what it was like to be a soldier.

Francis had fainted from overheating, his heart was racing under his skin. The men behidn them ran around.

Pierre groaned outwardly, though he felt a deep twinge of sympathy for the boy, much too young to be learning the hardships of war training. He bent down and easily hefted him up, trying to shake him awake.

He felt much heavier than he looked, and.. Something tightly wrapped around his chest below his shirt. He kind of flopped around in Pierre's arms.

"Um.. I owned a pig, once..?"

She giggled. “Is that it? Your deepest darkest secret is that you once owned a pig?”

"Well, my life isn't too.. Exciting," he admitted.

“Now now,” she murmured, setting her fork down quietly, “I know that’s not true.”

(wait I think I understand now)

Pierre glanced behind them anxiously at the rapidly approaching commander, who hadn’t seen them through the rest of the soldiers, but he knew he had to be quick. “Francis!” He clenched his jaw and shook him harder.

"How so?" He smiled at Jane, with some cheese on his lip.

Bailey laughed breathily, "Couldn't keep up with the men, eh?"

"How so?" He smiled at Jane, with some cheese on his lip.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” she replied, delicately swiping the cheese from his lip with her thumb.

Pierre clenched his jaw, saluting his commander. “The boy passed out, sir, I stopped to help him up.”

"Well, to myself I'm not a noteworthy man," he commented.

"Get him back to camp," he sighed, "Make sure he's not gonna die from heatstroke,"

“Yes sir.” He saluted crisply once more, moving back towards the camp before the commander could have any second thoughts. He had Francis sling over his shoulder, and could feel something wrapped tightly around his chest from beneath his uniform. Could it be…. no, he couldnt assume. He’d have to ask later.

(Is Francis binding? Is that why he can’t go home and why his voice is so high?)