Thursday, 20 February 2014

The Battle of Tixilix

Oh what a joyous day, dear brother. The nefarious hordes of Albion have been defeated by our glorious Covonian brothers and once more our borders are cleansed of Johnny Foreigner (apart from the merchants and strumpets obviously).

The dawn found our glorious troops lined up for battle between the two towns of Tixilix and Nimby, both towns were strongly garrisoned with loyal Covonians.
The Albion general demanded the surrender of Tixilix, insisting that a certain fugitive, the Baron de Scratchpole was within the town walls. This request was most robustly refused as Tixilix is home to the monks of Fastbuck Abbey, centre of our most lucrative tonic wine industry.

The Albion general immediately sent three of his finest regiments against our brave Chasseurs de Flemm who were part way between  the two towns. All seemed lost but some sharp manoeuvres from the neighbouring 3rd Covonian enabled our glorious troops to decimate two of the Albionite regiments. Sadly the brave Chasseurs de Flemm were also destroyed in the ensuing firefight.
The outraged Citizens of Nimby, led by the editor of the local journal “Ye Dailye Maille” rushed to the nearby woods from where they pelted the remaining foreign hordes and probable asylum seekers with musketry, stones and the occasional flaming squirrel. Unfortunately, several perished in the ensuing fire (dear brother, trees and flaming brands do not mix well!)
The Albionites then tried a general assault on our right flank and the town of Tixilix itself. This was rebuffed by our glorious troops and there was confusion and death in the foul ranks of the Albionite marauders.

With darkness falling, their general asked, and received the honours of war and their army left the field (apart from the dead ones obviously)

Dear brother, we are receiving reports that our glorious Vulgarian allies have also defeated the dastardly owl botherers, it would seem that the war is won and I can return once more to my beloved estates.

Hon. Baron Snott

.... and now... an alternative narrative by His Most Grim our Lord Effingham

As is my style I shall not beat about the bush here.  Things did not go well.  Things did not go to plan.  That said the plan was flawed.  By Gads Sir, the plan was mine!  ‘OH BAGGER!!’

Our march to battle was the initial problem.  It would seem that the Guards brigade encountered the enemy on route to their form up point at the right of the line. 

Though reports are sketchy it would seem the enemy were housed in two strong buildings.  The first ‘The Bottle of Syrup’.  This inn with a huge cellar apparently took many brave attempts and a phenomenal team effort to clear. The other a stoutly built residence for young ladies in financial distress (or so it appears from descriptions of their scantily clad appearance) seems to have being held by the enemies’ horse as I hear reports of ‘Frisky fillies frolicking around’.  The result of this delay was devastating!

The main body, deployed ready and equipped to escalade the town, stood aghast as the Guards Brigade doubled past.  With a great deal of swagger and √©lan, singing it advanced straight into the main strength of the enemy.

I will not criticise the leaders of that finest of Brigades.  There will be no remark given to sour the memory of the brave and glorious dead.  All fault lies with me.  My plan to assault the town was a mistake.

The enemy held the place with all the strength of bacterial mucus, clinging to the very walls of the place and seeping into the mortar of the brickwork!  Impregnable! That is how the rancid Corvornian Town would be rated. 

In penance for my failings I will not wash nor powder my Grand Wiggage for the remainder of this campaign! In memory of those brave fallen sons of Albion I will visit the site of this Tavern and Convalescing home in homage to their great victory prior to the Battle of Tixi Lix.

Now as a final note it is with great sadness that I must report the retirement of two of our companies most splendid and gentlemanly souls. 

Our dear Augustus von Thetford, leader of horse, has retired to his estates in Cumberland to be with his comely spouse Wurstella and his daughters Chip and Larter.  Augustus gallantly led our horse through campaign and was given the lead in battle against Borogovia.  May this easy going and generous chap die with cobwebs in his wig and a sword in his guts.  Gods bless you sir!!   

The most Rev Howard Whitehouse leaves us after giving rousing and righteous service.  Howards coiffure may not have being the plumpest, wiggy and luscious of our assembly but beneath those tight Spartan curls his hard face was truly a reflection of the Gods anger that he served.  So reliable and steadfast was this dour and violent man that the escalade of Tixi Lix was to be his.  The highest honour I can bestow on this man is to say that he was my friend.  Howard, go out to the sons of Albion and preach the words of the Gods.  Die screaming with cobwebs in your wig and a sword in your guts.  Gods bless you sir, Gods bless you my friend!! 

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