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February 14, 2012
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  >> Static Item >> Other >> Military >> ID #1129590  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
SGFW 1820s Scotland Assignment
Scene with three Scottish soldiers preparing for battle to put down 1820s civil uprising.
Rated:
E
by
Avg Rating: (3)
It was 1820. Wendell Craig, Scottish knight, donned his iron metal cap. Of long auburn hair, extended nose and blushed crimson complexion, he was girded with metallic silver along his arms and breast.

He wrapped a burgundy sash around his upper chest. It covered the black tunic he wore. He twiddled the king’s medallion crowning the silken sash, bearing it proudly .

“Hurry up. Militias have been spotted on the highways,” he said.

“Even in spite of the fact we jailed that ‘Committee for Organising a Provisional Government’, plots are surfacing right and left,” said Robert Westhouse.

“Yes. Parliament is uneasy,” said Elgin Smith.

“Don’t worry. We’ll put down the rebellion,” said Craig. “We have informants in Hampden groups planted throughout the countryside. They have given us all the information we need. Though armed, the 200 radicals in Bridgeton and the 200 men in Balfron are little threat. The rest are ragtag.”

Westhouse gazed out the long vertical portal at the descending countryside. He could see despite the billowing red velvet drapes covering the window’s diamond latticed frame. He let the view of the glades of grass stretching down from the castle’s knoll comfort him.

Westhouse glanced at Smith. Smith returned the gaze.

Elgin Smith fearlessly lifted his foot long blunderbuss and stared straight down its pipe. Although freshly loaded with gunpowder, he remained undaunted.

Likewise, Westhouse hoisted his javelin-like “wasp”. This would discourage the makeshift pikes of the dissidents. However fear of the improvised “clegs” made him wary. These shuttlecocks with barbs on their ends could cripple a man on a horse from afar.

Craig took one last glance at the king’s bronze head situated by the door. The ornately engraved wooden stand it rested on gave the honor to his monarch that he felt was so much due. His gray eyes burned thinking of the disrespect the dissidents showed his king.

He began towards the door. Flush cobalt carpet cushioned the impact of his steel boots. The junior officers rose and followed.

“It is time,” announced Craig.
© Copyright 2006 David Gere (UN: dc1291 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
David Gere has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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