Post by Monique Adelina De'Ath on Dec 11, 2019 7:26:11 GMT
Poor Renne, he'd always been a sickly child and mostly ignored or bullied by the other children in his village. So too his parents had focused their attentions on his more vibrant siblings and Renne was left to play on his own or spend time with the only sort of friend he had in the village "Mad" Maurice, a former cavalryman in His Majesty's Army who had been discharged after one to many falls from his horse onto his own head. Renne found something oddly reassuring about listening to the war stories Maurice told, even if he often seemed to be telling them to himself, and his prized pocession was a 'lucky' rabbits foot that Maurice had given to him one day after a particularly wild and babbling array of tales with the advice to young Renne - 'Go join the Army lad, a Frontier Regiment is best and as one of the lads in the ranks. Have no fear the wee Rabbit's paw I gave you will keep you safe, it did me'!
So undeterred by the fact he had less strength than a 4 year girl, a total lack of any aptitude in the fields of Art or Medicine, barely a grasp of Military understanding and about enough money for one decent piss-up Renne was on his way....to Paris and the Army! He'd show them all back in the village how wrong they'd been, soon the name of Private Renne Ives Paulin, or RIP as they'd nicknamed him, would be known across France. Yes he could see it all now, sat atop a thundering stallion, his plumed helmet shining magnificently in the sunlight, roaring his comrades on as he held his sabre aloft (well sort of, he could always rest the heavy thing on the saddle) and smashing through endless ranks of the enemy SAFE thanks to that lucky rabbits foot of Maurice's.
Hurrah onwards to Glory, nothing could surely go wrong!
So undeterred by the fact he had less strength than a 4 year girl, a total lack of any aptitude in the fields of Art or Medicine, barely a grasp of Military understanding and about enough money for one decent piss-up Renne was on his way....to Paris and the Army! He'd show them all back in the village how wrong they'd been, soon the name of Private Renne Ives Paulin, or RIP as they'd nicknamed him, would be known across France. Yes he could see it all now, sat atop a thundering stallion, his plumed helmet shining magnificently in the sunlight, roaring his comrades on as he held his sabre aloft (well sort of, he could always rest the heavy thing on the saddle) and smashing through endless ranks of the enemy SAFE thanks to that lucky rabbits foot of Maurice's.
Hurrah onwards to Glory, nothing could surely go wrong!