Let's Read Animorphs! The Whole Series! Ch-ch-ch-chaaanges

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Comrade Blyatlov: Aug 4, 2007; should have picked four fingers

I think it's explicitly said to be Agincourt in the next chapter or two

# ? Sep 28, 2021 20:14

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# ? May 26, 2024 22:49

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

Kind of impressive that anyone attempting to reverse engineer a fascist America would be confident enough to begin tinkering with things as early as the Hundred Years War. I guess... French dominance could result in common law and a marginally freer English society never coming into being? The Magna Carta was already around by then wasn't it?

# ? Sep 28, 2021 22:58

ANOTHER SCORCHER: Aug 12, 2018

There�s a reason they�re in the Hundred Years War that is revealed later, it�s worth waiting for.

# ? Sep 28, 2021 23:21

Comrade Blyatlov: Aug 4, 2007; should have picked four fingers

ANOTHER SCORCHER posted:

There�s a reason they�re in the Hundred Years War that is revealed later, it�s worth waiting for.

OK that I don't remember, buckling up.

# ? Sep 28, 2021 23:23

Fuschia tude: Dec 26, 2004; THUNDERDOME LOSER 2019

freebooter posted:

Kind of impressive that anyone attempting to reverse engineer a fascist America would be confident enough to begin tinkering with things as early as the Hundred Years War. I guess... French dominance could result in common law and a marginally freer English society never coming into being? The Magna Carta was already around by then wasn't it?

Almost precisely two centuries earlier, yes.

# ? Sep 28, 2021 23:57

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 8
Jake

quote:

It was not a good situation.

I was seriously annoyed.

One knight was stuck in the mud. A foot soldier was on his knees praying and quaking. The other knight was being held up by Rachel�s trunk about six feet in the air.

<Oh. Hi, Jake. Hi, Marco,> Rachel said.

<Hi,> Cassie said.

<We were � uhhh � well �>

�So, there we were, suddenly appearing in the middle of a bunch of tents full of guys wearing armor,� I said conversationally. �Naturally we figured we�d better lie low. Not attract attention. Not cause any trouble.�

<Are you really mad?> Rachel asked.

I leaned over and grabbed the green knight�s arm. Marco grabbed the other and we yanked hard, trying to get him up out of the mud while he cursed us in French.

�I figured I�d try the subtle approach,� I said. �But, of course, that�s just me. It hadn�t occurred to me that what I should do is morph into elephant and STOMP PEOPLE INTO THE MUD!�

<You are mad.>

�Why would I be mad? Just because at the very moment I�m thinking �Cool, we snuck past the guards,� I suddenly hear an ELEPHANT?!�

Marco laughed. �Half the guys back there in the tents are wetting themselves and babbling about dragons and devils.�

<Hey, they started this,> Rachel said.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. �Rachel?�

<Yes Jake.>

�Do you think you could put that guy down and demorph so we could get out of here without wiping out ten thousand future French people who might be descendants of these two guys?�

<You know, he stuck a spear in me,> she grumbled.

I helped the green knight get to his feet. �Sorry,� I said. �How do you say �sorry� in French?�

�Sorreeee?� Marco offered. �Ah em verreee sorreee.�

�That�s very helpful, Marco,� I said.

Cassie had demorphed. Now Rachel put the red knight down gently and began to demorph as well. I saw the red knight heading toward a dropped sword.

�Hey! Uh-uh,� I said. �No no no.�

He stopped.

Just then Tobias swooped down through the trees. Another bird of prey was with him. Ax, in harrier morph.

<See, Ax? Told you it was Rachel. Any time you hear a bunch of screaming and see people running, you�re going to find our girl Rachel somewhere close by.>

�Very funny,� Rachel said. �They started it. Cassie! Tell them who started it!�

�Okay, look, we�re all together. Let�s get out of here before we draw the whole French army down on us,� I said. �There must be a couple hundred guys back in that field up there.�

<More than that,> Tobias said. 

<Two armies?> Ax suggested.

�And us between them?� Marco said. �Great.�

�Two armies? What war? What year?� Cassie asked.

I shrugged.

�The green guy there speaks English, I think,� Rachel said.

I looked at the knight. Despite the armor he wasn�t really much bigger than me. Standing in the mud without a weapon he wasn�t too intimidating. �Excuse me, sir, can you tell me what year this is? And who�s fighting this war?�

�I do not parlay avec weetches,� the knight said in haughty, heavily accented English.

Marco stifled a giggle.

�I�m not the weetch.� I pointed at Rachel. �Those two are the witches. I saved your life.�

�Hey!� Cassie objected.

The knight thought it over for a moment. �It ees the year of our lord fourteen-fifteen. The forces of the Roi de France, hees highness royal Charles VI, under command du Constable de France and Princes of the blood royal, are here unis pour � to repel I�envahisseur, Roi Henri five of England, who has laid claim unjust to the throne of France.�

�French and English? Whose side are we on?� Rachel asked.

�We�re not on anyone�s side,� I said. �We�re just here to make sure Visser Four doesn�t mess with whatever is supposed to happen here.�

�But we don�t know what�s supposed to happen here,� Cassie pointed out.

<That�s a definite problem,> Tobias said.

�Okay. First thing: We don�t do anything till we find Visser Four. And when I say don�t do anything that would include squeezing French knights with our trunks till they pop open like an overboiled hot dog.�

�He has an armor! He barely felt it!� Rachel said hotly.

�Let�s get airborne,� I said. �What we�re looking for is anyone who doesn�t belong. Also we�re looking for the Time Matrix. Ax?�

<Yes, my Prince.>

�What does a Time Matrix look like?�



�Better and better,� Marco muttered darkly.

�Okay, just look for � just look. And remember one thing: We are just as likely to mess up the future as Visser Four is. So be careful. Cover this whole area. If we�re some kind of quantum echo or whatever then Visser Four must be nearby. Anyone spots him, we�ll need to move fast and hard.�

I looked around at all my friends. I tried to make eye contact with each as I repeated. �Fast and hard. You understand? This guy has the most dangerous weapon ever created. We can�t let him get away. His personal history ends here.�

First off, Jake is right that the former Visser 4 isn't the only one who can change history. If the Animorphs go around killing people, that would be bad. And yes, this is Agincourt. Also, Marco paid less attention in French class than Cassie.

Chapter 9
Marco

quote:

The sun was barely up. Gray dawn.

We flew. We looked at stuff. We demorphed. We remorphed. We flew some more. The sun was coming up and we still had not seen anyone who we thought was Visser Four.

However, I�d seen some really cool armor. Mostly on the French side. The English guys looked pretty raggedy. And about half of them seemed to have serious digestive problems. Every five minutes you�d see one of the English soldiers run off into the bushes and � well, let me put it this way: What they did you don�t really want to see, especially with high-power osprey eyes.

I was over the English camp for about the twentieth time. The head guys, including this guy I thought might be the king, were attending an old-fashioned mass. You know, in Latin.

Their third mass. Which made me wonder if they had any hope of winning. I mean, one church service, maybe. But three? That�s not a sign of confidence. That�s more like �I�ll be there any minute now, Lord, so have Saint Peter make up my bed.�

The guys themselves, knights, soldiers, archers, and so on, were a nasty-looking bunch of humans. No one looked like they�d washed their clothes any time this century. Faces were dirty. Teeth were rotted and I mean yellow-and-black, gnarled-looking rotted. They were pompous, swaggering knights and whatever, who had literally four and a half teeth in their whole head.

And speaking of heads, here�s a clue: You didn�t want to have really good eyesight and see these guys� hair. We�re not just talking fleas. We�re talking lice. And not one or two. Every head was like a Manhattan of lice. A Hong Kong of fleas. There were crawling little bugs packed onto some of these guys like fans at a Phish concert.

And skin? Scabs, rashes, bumps, boils, warts, things you thought might be beetles stuck on their faces but that were actually moles.
It was pockmarked city. Virtually every face looked like someone had fired a shotgun at it. Deep holes you could almost stick a finger into.

Smallpox, of course.

It was not an attractive crowd. English or French, it didn�t matter, except that the French had more horses and cooler armor.

Ax wheeled through the sky, twenty feet above me, closer to the French lines.

<I do not mean to insult your ancestors, Marco, but if the Yeerks had arrived in this era they would have left to find some other species to infest. These humans have all the parasites they could possibly support.>

<Oh yeah? What were Andalites like three, four hundred years ago?>

<We were relatively backward technologically,> Ax sniffed, <but we had managed to discover cleaning agents. These humans are universally filthy.>

<They are � Hey! That�s it! Jake! Rachel! Everyone! These guys are all dirty and lice-ridden and pockmarked!>
<It took you three hours to notice that?> Rachel demanded. <You�re a genius, Marco.>

<Well, duh, Rachel, guess who wouldn�t be all skanky?>

<Visser Four! Of course!> Cassie said. <He has a twentieth-century body! Twenty-first century. He won�t have smallpox or lice or bad teeth!>

<That�s it,> Jake agreed. <Look for someone clean! That�ll be our boy.>

The sun was rising above the horizon now. The mass was breaking up. It didn�t look like they�d have another. I guess three were enough.

The guy I thought was probably the English king was hanging out with some of his boys, all laughing very loudly the way people do when they�re scared peeless but want to look cool.

I took a look at him. No, he did not have a twenty-first-century body. He was about as skanky as anyone. I checked out his boys, a bunch of burly-looking troublemakers. I guess they were his main knights, but if it hadn�t been for the chain mail and the swords you�d have figured them for a bunch of Mafia hit men.

They weren�t all buff like some Schwarzenegger action hero. Most were beefy, even fat. I doubted any of these guys had ever even heard the word salad. But they weren�t fat fat, they were like, �Ah-hah! Your blade merely penetrated my belly fat and one kidney! A flesh wound! Have at you, sir!�

These boys were trouble.

And now the king was talking to his troops. He jumped up on a fallen tree and started bellowing and waving his arms like a politician or a football coach.

I couldn�t hear everything he said, but the basic idea was, �Men, we�re outnumbered, but we�re here for a good reason, which is that I want to be king of France, so let�s go kick some French butt and we�ll all be mighty pleased with ourselves on the off-chance that we actually survive.�

Basically the same kind of heroic nonsense we Animorphs tell ourselves before we go into battle. Then, quite suddenly, I saw him.
Not a knight. One of the archers. He was carrying a bow and a quiver full of arrows. His clothes were the same uniform as the other archers: a sleeveless leather jacket decorated with steel studs over a chain-mail shirt; and pants that looked like they�d been sewed together by seamstresses with only three fingers and a ballpoint pen for a needle. He was with a bunch of archers moving toward the
French lines.

<Got him!> I alerted the others. <Over there at the tree line. He�s an English archer.>

<On our way,> Jake said. <Stay cool. We need the right moment.>



The English were definitely moving. The French, who had to outnumber them four-to-one, waited very calmly. In fact a lot of them were off riding around, talking to each other, drinking, scarfing snacks, making out with women, and gambling.

Between the two forces, a narrow, muddy field hemmed in by trees on both sides.

<The English are gonna get stomped,> Rachel said. I could see her bald eagle wheeling down toward me, turning wide circles.

<Maybe not,> Jake said thoughtfully. <The field is so narrow. The French can�t get all their guys into the action.>

<Want to lay some money down?> Rachel asked.

<This is probably not why we�re here,> Cassie pointed out. <Probably the idea was not to place bets.>

<Why are we here? That is the question,> Ax said. <What is the significance of this particular historical event? How would a change at this point in the timespace continuum cause the changes we observed?>

 Jake admitted.

<Neither does Visser Four, most likely,> Cassie said. <All he knows about humans came from the mind of his host body.>

<Swell,> I said. <It�s the blind leading the blind down history�s �>

I stopped talking because I saw something no bird ever, ever wants to see. Ever.

I saw about two thousand guys notch their arrows, draw their bowstrings back to their ears, and suddenly elevate straight up.
Straight up at me.

Honestly, "Look for the healthy guy" is a good plan.

# ? Sep 29, 2021 04:05

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

I vaguely recall reading that the idea of the filthy Middle Ages is a modern notion, and they were actually super clean and bathed multiple times a day - until the Black Death, when they got some idea that it was unhealthy and stopped doing that, or just tried to cover their smells up with perfume etc. So the Middle Ages were clean and the Renaissance (which I guess this is heading towards, or is at least well after the Black Death) was filthy. Although I guess what your ordinary habits are like is irrelevant when you're a campaigning soldier out in the mud.

Ax and Marco's back and forth makes me wonder whether the Andalites used to have some sick horse-like suits of armour in their own medieval times. Did we ever figure out if they waged war among themselves?

# ? Sep 29, 2021 05:15

Tree Bucket: Apr 1, 2016; R.I.P.idura leucophrys

I think a lot of the "filthy middle ages" stuff derives from the Victorians looking around at their own rapidly-industrialising cities, thinking "we're the pinnacle of civilisation, so logically everything earlier must have sucked" and drawing their conclusions from there.

# ? Sep 29, 2021 06:16

e X: Feb 23, 2013; cool but crude

Epicurius posted:

These humans have all the parasites they could possibly support.>

When did Ax get so savage?

# ? Sep 29, 2021 09:52

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

Just more evidence Ax is the best character in the series :colbert:

(I was about to write about another great Ax Responding to Human History Moment in this book but actually we can wait until we get to it. It's a moment I loved as a kid but look at as an adult and think hmmmm.)

# ? Sep 29, 2021 14:24

Cythereal: Nov 8, 2009; I love the potoo,
and the potoo loves you.

freebooter posted:

I vaguely recall reading that the idea of the filthy Middle Ages is a modern notion, and they were actually super clean and bathed multiple times a day - until the Black Death, when they got some idea that it was unhealthy and stopped doing that, or just tried to cover their smells up with perfume etc. So the Middle Ages were clean and the Renaissance (which I guess this is heading towards, or is at least well after the Black Death) was filthy. Although I guess what your ordinary habits are like is irrelevant when you're a campaigning soldier out in the mud.

Yeah, the 90s saw a resurgence of the idea that the Middle Ages were absurdly filthy. People did in fact have a decent understanding of basic hygiene.

Personally, I blame A World Lit Only By Fire. A compellingly written, engaging book all the rage in the 90s that happens to be complete and utter nonsense.

# ? Sep 29, 2021 14:58

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 10
Marco

quote:

I was staring down at about two thousand arrow tips, and two thousand guys squinting up at me along the arrow shaft.

<Uh-oh.>

Flit! Flit! Flit! FlitFlitFlitFlitFlitFlit!

The air was filled with arrows. It was like some weird backward hail. It was a wall of arrows!

Flit!

<Aaaahhhh!>

An arrow passed clear through my wing. I banked hard.

Flit!

<They�re shooting at me!> I yelled. There was a sharp pain in my wing, and blood streaked my feathers. The wing was weaker, but I could still fly.

<Get outta there!> Rachel yelled.

<Gee, do you think?!> I said frantically.

I beat wing but now it was like every idiot on the ground was trying to murder me. Already, they were reloading. But I was hauling. Hauling not exactly in a straight line because one wing was dragging, but I was moving. I headed more or less along the front of the English lines, trying to stay in no-man�s-land. One thing I knew for sure: I didn�t want to try and cross directly above the English
troops.

Unfortunately, that was a bad insight. The archers were on both ends of the line, in the woods! I was heading straight for another couple of thousand archers!

Ahhh! I tried to turn. I tried to haul. I would have run on air if necessary.

Arrows snapped into place, up came the bows, and �

FlitFlitFlitFlitFlitFlit!

Clean miss! I was out of the way, and now I could watch where the arrows were heading. Down they came.

The arrows arched toward a column of Frenchmen on horses. Maybe three hundred guys, many loaded up in fabulous armor. Some in less-than-fabulous armor. But all yelling from behind their visors, all with long lances leveled.

The French cavalry went straight for the archers. The archers were behind a lame wall of spikes angled out toward the horses. Unfortunately for the English, their spikes wouldn�t stay up in the mud.

But the spikes weren�t the important issue. The important issue was the arrows.

FlitFlitFlitFlitFlitFlit!

Thousands of arrows, all shooting up, all arching, all seeming to hang in the air. Thousands of these arrows just sort of waiting, poised at the top of their arc. A fly could not have gotten through that wall of arrows.

Down and down to stick in French arms and necks and shoulders and heads and thighs and faces, and all of a sudden what was happening below me was not a joke anymore.

FlitFlitFlitFlitFlitFlit!

Arrows flew again, tracking the approaching column of rowdy, disorganized cavalry.

The main knights seemed almost invulnerable at first with all their armor. Even their horses were armored along the back of their necks and over their heads. But the arrows were so thick that they found their way into the narrow slits in knights� visors.
Men were dropping. Horses were dropping. If I�d stayed one second longer, avoiding the arrows would have been like avoiding raindrops in a thunderstorm.

If I had stayed a second longer I wouldn�t just have been shot. I�d have been a pincushion.

Now the screaming started. Guys with arrows sticking through their necks, into their stomachs, out of their sides, all fell and crawled and stood up and fell again. And it wasn�t just the men. Horses were screaming, too. And that�s not a sound I�ll ever forget.

The cavalry fell back. They didn�t look good. They plowed right into their own lines, practically riding down their own people.

The English kept coming. Looking a little more sure of themselves, too. Like maybe two masses would have been enough.

I tried to find Visser Four again. I looked for that weirdly clean face, the weirdly white teeth.

And that saved my life. Because I saw now that the archers were forward, half in the woods, and they had shifted their aim.

Suddenly, the arrow barrage had changed direction.

<Aaahhh!> I yelled, spilled air, and plunged like a rock. I saw the English archers release their strings.

I saw arrows fly!

Right. At. ME!

FlitFlitFlitFlitFlitFlitFlit!

Hundreds of arrows arched toward me as I dove toward the ground. Hundreds of arrows, some so close I felt the breeze from them, blew above me.

I raked, opening my wings to catch air. But now my injured wing failed. It collapsed, seemed to break in half, and down I went at impossible speed.

Flump!

I hit mud, beak first. I maintained consciousness for about a half second. Passed out. Woke up to hear Jake yelling, <Marco! Marco! Get up!>

Not too much to say in this chapter, other than that Marco was basically in the worst position on the battlefield.

Chapter 11
Rachel

quote:

I saw him stick, literally stick, in the mud. I was high above and to the right, off the main field. I was in bald eagle morph - the only one of us nearly big enough to drag an osprey up out of the mud.

I dove.

<Rachel! No!> Jake yelled.

 I had Marco in plain view. A crumpled little wad of dirty gray and white feathers in the middle of what was, by the standards of 1415, probably the most dangerous piece of real estate on Earth.

I fell like a stone. No, like a missile, because I was under control, directed, aimed with a dozen tiny movements of tail and wingtip.

<Break off!> Jake yelled. <The arrows! The arrows!>

FlitFlitFlitFlitFlitFlit!

The arrows!

I opened my wings wide, spread my tail feathers, pulled my talons up, and did an impersonation of Wile E. Coyote trying to stop in midair after he�s just run off a cliff.

It didn�t work much better than it does for Wile E.

The arrow barrage flew. Two or three missed me by millimeters, but most were well below me.

As soon as the arrows were by, I folded my wings, making the smallest possible target, and dropped again toward Marco.

<Marco! Wake up!> Jake yelled.

I swept down, barely avoiding hitting the mud myself, and dug my talons into Marco�s back.

<Hey! Ow!>

<Complain later, we are outta here!>

Only we weren�t outta there. I flapped with all my strength and managed to drag Marco about three feet through the mud. But there was no way we were getting airborne.

FlitFlitFlitFlitFlitFlit!

The arrows flew again, this time far overhead. And then I heard a bloodcurdling sound. The roar of battle lust from hundreds of throats. Or maybe not so much battle lust as sheer terror.

I shot a look to my left. The English were suddenly running. Right at us. To the right: the French, running, galloping, and also doing some screaming.

We were about to be stomped by several thousand really unattractive shoes.

<What do we do?> I asked Marco.

<How do I know? I thought you were rescuing me!>

<Demorph?>

<And tell them what? We�re neutral?>

The first wave of English troops was ten seconds away, still yelling, brandishing spears and swords, their boots making sucking noises in the mud. The French maybe twelve seconds away.

Then, suddenly, from the woods near at hand, a horse burst at a run, heading straight for us.

I knew that horse.

At least, I hoped I did.

<Cassie? Tell me that�s you!>

<Get ready!> Cassie said.

<To do what? Birds don�t ride bareback!> Marco yelled.

The English from the left. The French to the right. Arrows still filling the air above us. And a single horse kicking up dirt clouds and splashing through mud puddles as it came.

<Too slow!> Marco said tersely. <And she doesn�t exactly have hands. How does she pick us up?>

<Oh, man,> I said, bracing for the attack.

In a flash, the English soldiers were all around us, yelling about Harry and England and just generally yelling. Thick, felt-shod, rag-wrapped feet stomped all around us.

Then, hooves.

Feet! Hooves! Someone tripped, face down, landed beside Marco and me. At least I thought he�d tripped. Till I saw the short arrow sticking out of his chest.

It was the green knight. He lay on his shield and tried to breathe. I stared at him, unable to look away. Unable to stop myself from thinking that at least he wouldn�t live to tell the story of the witch who became an elephant.

<Grab my legs!> Cassie cried.

<What?>

<Grab my legs!>

Brown horse legs were tall in a forest of shorter limbs. I sank talons deep into bone and skin. It had to hurt. But Cassie didn�t complain. Marco did the same, and then we were off. Two big mud encrusted birds of prey latched on to a horse�s front legs as the horse tried to shove through a melee.

And the melee had just gotten radically worse.

Cassie, and we, were shoved by the force of the packed bodies around us, toward the French.

Now, battle was joined. There was no way out. I dug my talons deep. A horse might survive this hell of yelling, slashing, screaming, shoving, grunting, stabbing madness, but a bird is a fragile animal.

<Arrgghh!> I heard Cassie cry. I assumed it was the pain of my and Marco�s talons.

But it was much more likely that the pain came from the spear that had been shoved deep, deep into her haunch.

Cassie stumbled. She fell, face down I disengaged just in time to avoid being crushed. Then a foot came down on me. I heard the tiny bones in my back and wings snap.

It hit me then: I was going to die. Not Jake, me. Mine was the life Crayak would take in payment.

I was going to die almost 600 years before I was even born.

Any of them CAN die.

# ? Sep 30, 2021 03:50

Fuschia tude: Dec 26, 2004; THUNDERDOME LOSER 2019

If you die in morph you die in real life

# ? Sep 30, 2021 05:21

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

Hope she opted for the thoroughbred racehorse rather than her regular ol' horse.

# ? Sep 30, 2021 11:02

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 12
Ax

quote:

<Cassie!> Prince Jake cried.

<They�re down!> Tobias shouted. <I�m going in>

<No!> Prince Jake ordered. <We don�t need another body down there!>

The two groups of humans rushed together and began to attempt to murder each other by the use of edged pieces of steel in various shapes and forms.

Some of the humans rode atop horses. Some appeared to be wearing artificial skin made of thin sheets of metal.

It is one of the rare examples of artificial skin that makes any logical sense.

But I did not have time to ponder the question of armor. Cassie, Rachel, and Marco were wounded and very possibly dead.

Flying high above the battle, I caught only occasional glimpses of them. A struggling horse, lying on its side. Two birds. All ignored by the murderous humans around them.

At the same time, I was attempting to keep track of the movements of Visser Four. He had fired many arrows from the bow that was almost as long as his own body was tall. He had fired more slowly and with less skill than the other archers, but no one had seemed to notice.

And now, he was moving. Many of the English archers on both wings of the battle had laid down their bows and were drawing swords and daggers. Now I saw the disadvantage of the steel artificial skin. The archers, dressed only in cloth, and carrying light weapons, were able to move more nimbly through the mud. They were able to jump in and stab several of the armored knights through their visors.

But Visser Four was not a part of this slaughter. He had backed away from the battle into the trees. And now he appeared to be climbing a tall tree.

<Prince Jake!> I cried. <Visser Four is in a tree. I believe he is preparing to use his bow.>

<Forget Visser Four!> Tobias said hotly. <Rachel�s down there! Rachel! Morph!>

<She would have to demorph first,> I said. <As a human she would surely be killed.>

<Shut up!> Tobias cried in anguish. <This can�t happen! Ellimist! Crayak! Get us out of here! Get us out of here!>

I was disturbed by the possibility that my friends would be killed. But there was nothing to be done for them. And our mission was to stop Visser Four.

I peered closely at his face. It was a normal human face. Perhaps with a bit more facial fat. He appeared to be of adult age, though young for that category. My estimate would be that he was twenty five years old.

<Polar bears!> Tobias pleaded. <We morph to polar bears and rip into that mess down there! We can�t just do nothing>

<Cassie�s down there, too,> Jake snapped. <And my best friend.>

<We have to do something!>

<Like what? Kill a bunch of innocent guys who should have lived? Those aren�t Controllers down there. Those are human beings!>

I tried to stay focused on Visser Four. As I swept in a slow circle above the field of battle, I trained my osprey eyes on his blue human eyes.

They searched the crowd. Then, found what they sought. I tried to extrapolate, to follow the direction of his gaze. It was an inaccurate game at best. But I believed I saw what he was watching.

In the middle of the English lines was a warrior wearing a dented gold ring atop his helmet. Many men in armor were close to him. There were several bright flags near him.

<The human with the gold circle on his head,> I asked. <Is he important?>

<Gold circle?> Prince Jake asked in a frazzled, distracted voice. <You mean a crown?>

<Possibly. It is gold and formed into what may be an abstract floral design.>

<That�s the king! The English king!>

<He will be shot with an arrow very soon,> I said. <Visser Four is drawing his bow and I believe he is aiming it at this king.>

<Get him!> Prince Jake yelled.

 I said. <Only Tobias �>

Tobias is in pretty much an impossible position here. He can try to save Rachel, or he can try to stop Visser Four, but not both. Also, how did Visser Four become a longbowman? It's not easy.

Chapter 13
Tobias

quote:

<Rachel!> I yelled.

<Tobias! That guy�s getting ready to shoot!> Jake said. 

<Tobias, I cannot get there in time,> Ax said with infuriating calm.

Both of them alike! All Jake or Ax cared about was the stupid mission. I could see Rachel and Marco, half-crushed by Cassie�s horse body.

No! Wait! Not crushed. They were shielding themselves beneath her. They�d be crushed, yes, but maybe not killed. If I could get to the woods, morph to polar bear, come back, break through �

Insane! Jake was right. How many terrified soldiers on both sides would I have to kill? And how long would I last?

<Tobias!> Ax said. <It is now or possibly never!>

I looked down. I could see Visser Four through a break in the trees. I saw him from above. He was drawing his bow. Ready to �

Flit!

Too late! The arrow flew. Straight toward King Henry. Straight into the back of a young French soldier who fell like someone had cut his legs off.

A miss!

Of course! Visser Four was no expert archer. And it was a tough target. The king�s face was uncovered. That had to be the target. A professional archer could have done it from this range, but not a novice.

Still �

Visser Four drew his bow again. He aimed very carefully. And now the king was surging toward the very place where Rachel and the others lay.

Visser Four might not hit Henry. He might miss and hit Cassie or Marco or Rachel.

�Tseeeeeer!�

I spilled air from my wings, folded them back, twisted my tail to aim, and flew straight down.

Down like a rock.

I saw Visser Four�s fingers begin to relax.

I saw the fingers release.

The arrow flew!

I opened my talons and twisted sideways to bring both talons into line.

Flit!

Fwapp!

Talon hit arrow. Right talon hit but didn�t grip.

I blew straight down, my momentum carrying the arrow with it, canceling some of its speed. Left talon squeezed!

I felt the shaft slide through my grip. Thunk! My talons closed around the feathered ailerons.

It all took a tenth of a second. Then, I was carrying the arrow.

<Go, Tobias!> Jake cried.

I turned and saw Visser Four. He was staring at me with a mix of amazement and disbelief. And then, slowly, slowly on his face dawned recognition.

I could literally see his lips form the word.

The word Andalite!

<Not exactly,> I thought, <but you�ve got the basic idea. Jake? I think he�s made us.>

<What?>

<Visser Four. I think it�s occurred to him that normal hawks don�t go around snatching arrows out of midair. And now, I�m going after Rachel and the others. Visser Four is your problem now.>

Yep. They've been made.

# ? Oct 1, 2021 02:38

Tree Bucket: Apr 1, 2016; R.I.P.idura leucophrys

Another great tense chaotic scene.
(Good luck doing anything with a longbow as an amateur other than injuring yourself horribly.)

# ? Oct 1, 2021 03:34

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

Ax really demonstrating here that he's the only professional soldier of the bunch.

I wonder how the personal time travel works here? Visser Four has clearly been here longer than they have, but how long?

# ? Oct 1, 2021 03:37

Comrade Blyatlov: Aug 4, 2007; should have picked four fingers

freebooter posted:

Ax really demonstrating here that he's the only professional soldier of the bunch.

I wonder how the personal time travel works here? Visser Four has clearly been here longer than they have, but how long?

It would seem as long as the plot needs. That Time Matrix sure has a sense of humour.

# ? Oct 1, 2021 06:28

Bobulus: Jan 28, 2007

I'm imagining a scenario where V4 spends a couple years or more seeing up each time-changing attempt, and by the end of this story, the Animorphs are dealing with a crotchety old man with a variety of eclectic skills and knowledge.

# ? Oct 1, 2021 08:37

Fuschia tude: Dec 26, 2004; THUNDERDOME LOSER 2019

Epicurius posted:

Tobias is in pretty much an impossible position here. He can try to save Rachel, or he can try to stop Visser Four, but not both. Also, how did Visser Four become a longbowman? It's not easy.

Yeah, isn't that one of those skills, like mounted archery, that you need to literally train from childhood?

# ? Oct 1, 2021 08:39

pile of brown: Dec 31, 2004

Bobulus posted:

I'm imagining a scenario where V4 spends a couple years or more seeing up each time-changing attempt, and by the end of this story, the Animorphs are dealing with a crotchety old man with a variety of eclectic skills and knowledge.

That could actually be such a fun and engaging plot for a video game: each time you reach the end he presses a reset button and you play back through against someone who's learned all your tricks and retained all their own

# ? Oct 1, 2021 10:07

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

Bobulus posted:

I'm imagining a scenario where V4 spends a couple years or more seeing up each time-changing attempt, and by the end of this story, the Animorphs are dealing with a crotchety old man with a variety of eclectic skills and knowledge.

Visser Four spending the entirety of David Michod's 'The King' as a scheming advisor only for the Animorphs to show up in the last five minutes and ruin it

# ? Oct 1, 2021 10:42

Tree Bucket: Apr 1, 2016; R.I.P.idura leucophrys

Fuschia tude posted:

Yeah, isn't that one of those skills, like mounted archery, that you need to literally train from childhood?

Wikipedia tells me longbows have a draw weight of over 50kg. That's just drawing the thing, not even aiming it. There's a shipwreck called the Mary Rose from 1545 which was found to contain a heap of longbows and longbow arrows. A few of the skeletons found in the wreck were somewhat deformed from a lifetime of drawing longbows.

# ? Oct 1, 2021 12:00

feetnotes: Jan 29, 2008

I was going to say V4 probably can�t have been hanging around any longer than 3 days. Or less, really, as the kandrona starvation fugue state seems to hit pretty hard at the end of the third.

But I guess with the time matrix they can just keep jumping back to a few months before the �present� day to feed, at least unil their host body noticeably ages. Maybe it�s easier to learn the longbow if you have access to advanced computers and you can manipulate the body and muscles like a tool?

# ? Oct 1, 2021 15:08

WrightOfWay: Jul 24, 2010

Maybe V4's host body did some archery as a hobby and had a bit of a head start.

# ? Oct 1, 2021 20:09

Pwnstar: Dec 9, 2007; Who wants some waffles?

pile of brown posted:

That could actually be such a fun and engaging plot for a video game: each time you reach the end he presses a reset button and you play back through against someone who's learned all your tricks and retained all their own

This is roughly the core gameplay concept of Shadow of Mordor, but being not quite dead instead of time travel.

# ? Oct 2, 2021 02:33

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 14
Cassie

quote:

I was in agony. I was lying on my side, with Marco and Rachel half-hidden beneath me. The spear had penetrated deep into my side and all I could do was to try and remember my horse anatomy.

What had the spear hit? Not my heart, or I�d be dead already. My stomach? Intestines? Liver?

Who could tell. But I knew that I was weakening. And I knew that if I demorphed, I�d leave Marco and Rachel exposed and helpless.

Not to mention the high likelihood that a superstitious fifteenth-century soldier would almost certainly kill the weird, twisting abomination I would seem to be in mid-morph.

We had to get away! But how?

The battle raged around us. The noise was horrific to my horse ears. Steel clanging against steel. The clank-clank-clank as crossbows were wound tight. Hooves and feet pounding in the mud, and landing, all too often, on bodies.

Men grunted with the effort of swinging their heavy swords and maces and axes. Men cried out or moaned as they were hurt. They staggered and fell, from wounds or from sheer exhaustion.

And all of this was all around me. On top of me!

This, I would later learn, was the battle of Agincourt. One of the great battles of history. Glorious. That�s what people called it: glorious. Shakespeare wrote a play about it.

But I�m here to tell you there was nothing glorious going on. It was as glorious as murder.

<We have to get out of here,> Rachel said.

<How?> Marco demanded. <We move, we die!>

<Cassie�s bleeding,> Rachel said. <She�s bleeding all over me.>

<Cassie, can you stand?> It was Jake�s voice. Coming from far overhead.

 This wasn�t my body. I didn�t know for sure what it could do. I didn�t know how badly it was injured.

<Well, get ready. The cavalry�s coming,> he said. Then he added. <We hope.>

I tried to stand. My legs worked. But I was weak. I couldn�t roll enough to get up. Not without crushing Rachel and Marco.

<What are you guys doing?> Marco asked Jake.

<Well, this is the age of superstition, right? Witches and goblins and devils and all?>

<Yeah,> Rachel said.

<We�re giving �em a devil,> Jake said.

<A devil? What do you mean, a devil?>

Then, above all the clashing, yelling, horrific sounds of battle, I heard a new note. Screams of sheer terror. Screams like you�d hear from someone trapped in a nightmare.

Feet stampeded.

The king himself stood over me, recognizable for the dented golden crown on his head. He was staring off to the right. Gaping, mouth open, battle temporarily forgotten.

The knight he�d been fighting sagged to his knees and began crossing himself and praying. Battle lines fell back. The king thought about it for a few seconds and decided he didn�t want to go one-on one with what was coming, either.

And the devil - or what must surely have looked like a devil to these men of the fifteenth century - rode onto the field atop a magnificent warhorse.

<Am I seeing a Hork-Bajir riding a horse?> Marco asked.

The Hork-Bajir - Tobias, actually came charging straight toward us. Brave warriors, warriors who�d gone face-to-face in this battle, life for life, suddenly bolted. The forest of legs around me parted.

Rachel and Marco crawled out from beneath me. I rolled onto my side and struggled to my feet, woozy, weak, half dead, but not so dead I couldn�t run a few hundred yards.

<Come on!> Tobias yelled, turned his horse, and led the way back off the field.

The horse said, <Hey! Watch the blades, Tobias!>

Marco and Rachel grabbed my torn and bleeding legs, and we made off across the horrible field. Over the bodies of dead and wounded, knights and peasants.

<Visser Four?> Rachel asked.

<Ax is keeping him busy,> Jake said. <But we have to hurry. Or he�ll get away from us.>

It's been a while since I studied the battle of Agincourt, but I don't remember this part.

Chapter 15
Ax

quote:

Visser Four ran. But he was merely a human-Controller. So there was very little chance of him outrunning me. I was still in harrier morph. I swooped through the trees as he ran.

Rising above the forest I could see the edge of a small village in the trees ahead. If Visser Four made it to the village it would be harder for me to stop him. There would be innocent humans about.

But as a harrier I could do very little to stop him.

Decision: Stay with the Visser and be helpless, or stop, demorph, and be able to attack?

The village, a collection of primitive human dwellings with roofs apparently made of grass, was very close.

First: Keep him from the village.

I flapped my wings harder and easily caught up with the running, panting, frightened Yeerk. I turned in midair and plunged toward him, talons down and forward.

He looked up. Dodged to the side. Not fast enough. I felt my left talon catch the side of his head.

�Aaaahhh!� he cried.

I swept past and turned to come back after him.

�Andalite filth!� he screamed. Genuinely screamed. Pure, unfiltered hatred blazing in his blue human eyes.

He hesitated. I came for him. He broke and ran. But now there were other humans surging around us. A column of men on horses was blundering through the woods seemingly heading around toward the rear of the English lines.

But there were other humans, too. They were running from the battle. Running toward the village. I could not demorph in plain view. The Yeerk must have known this. Now he stopped and put an arrow into the simple bow he used.

He drew the arrow back and let it fly. My harrier eyes were able to see that it was poorly aimed. It blew past and I did not even need to adjust my flight.

He ran again, and I followed. Suddenly we emerged from the edge of the wood. There was an open space between the forest and the village. There appeared to be some sort of crop planted there.

Villagers were calmly harvesting, going about their busy work as though nothing was happening.

Possibly they were concerned that the battle or fugitives from it might trample the crop.

These humans barely looked up from their work as soldiers, archers, and knights on horses went running past.

Certainly they did not notice Visser Four. Or me.

I swept up to Visser Four and raked his head again, laying the scalp open. He grabbed at me, but missed.

�I�ll kill you!� he raged.

<Surrender now, we have you surrounded,> I bluffed. But a Yeerk does not rise to Visser rank by being a complete fool. He laughed at my silly threat.

This was a pointless battle, I knew. In this morph I could injure him but not stop him. If I stopped to morph I could well lose him.

There were two large structures in the village. One seemed to me to be essentially military. A fort of some sort. The other had a large main building with a tall tower at one end.

It was into this building that Visser Four ran. Through a tall door.

The door had been open. He slammed it behind him. I flared my wings and pulled up, inches from smashing into the heavy-timbered door.

<Prince Jake!> I called in frustration. <Tobias! Marco! Rachel! Cassie! Anyone who can hear me, please answer.>

But there was no answer. We were far from the battlefield now. I was on my own.

How to enter the large structure? How to �

And then, in a flash, I knew why Visser Four had returned here.

<The Time Matrix!> He�d hidden the Time Matrix in this structure! I had minutes, maybe not even that.

I landed on the stairs leading to the front door. I began to demorph. My Andalite stalk eyes began to writhe up and out of my feathered head. My fleshless bird legs grew meat and muscle and true bone. I rose, growing taller by the second. But all too slowly!
Hands! I needed hands!

Tiny, limp protrusions began to grow from my chest. My forelegs. But my wings remained wings.

No fingers appeared.

<Prince Jake!> I yelled again.

Visser Four was going to escape.

<Prince Jake! Rachel! Cassie!>

Now, at last, fingers! But too weak, too delicate and unformed to turn the heavy iron handle on the door.

�Aiiiieeee!� someone screamed.

A human. Perhaps upset at the sight of an Andalite struggling to emerge from �

�Tuez-le! Tuez-le!� a new voice screamed.

�Tuez-le!� Now it was a chorus. I twisted one stalk eye, only now beginning to work.

There were half a dozen humans. Some were soldiers. Others not. The ones who were soldiers brandished swords. The others held huge forks made of sharpened wood. I was quite sure they were not welcoming me to their town.

<Prince Jake!> I cried. I lurched on half-formed legs to reach the door. My weak fingers closed on the handle.

The angry villagers attacked.

If you don't know French, "Tuez-le" means "Kill him" Also, "a Yeerk does not rise to Visser rank by being a complete fool"? I feel like I have a good counterargument for Ax here.

Ok, to be fair, Visser Three is not actually a complete fool. He's intelligent and clever, and has a good sense of tactics. He's just arrogant, violent, and impatient. Really, the biggest problem is that he's in the wrong job. If this were an outright conquest of Earth, he might be a good commander. He's just not fit for conquest by infiltration.

# ? Oct 2, 2021 04:35

Fuschia tude: Dec 26, 2004; THUNDERDOME LOSER 2019

Pwnstar posted:

This is roughly the core gameplay concept of Shadow of Mordor, but being not quite dead instead of time travel.

Or Planescape: Torment, except being repeatedly dead.

# ? Oct 2, 2021 08:41

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 16
Tobias

quote:

<Prince Jake!>

Jake was already running. We�d both heard a faint cry from Ax. This one was louder, clearer. We must be running in the right direction.

<Cassie! Rachel! Marco! Get clear, then demorph, get wings and follow!> Jake said. <Come on, Tobias, we�re the cavalry again.>

I leaned down over Jake�s flying mane, which allowed room for my spiked tail. The horse morph was huge. He�d acquired one of the chargers of a dead French knight. It easily carried my Hork-Bajir weight. Probably not much different from a man in full armor.

We raced through the trees. Behind us, the battle resumed. I guess in 1415 having the devil show up was a fairly normal occurrence. Nothing to stop a battle over. Not for long, anyway.

We burst suddenly into the open. Ahead of us, a village. Peasants scattered as we plowed along the dirt street, knocking wheelbarrows over, sending unwary pedestrians sprawling.

It wasn�t much of a village, I guess. A kind of not-impressive fort and a church. The church was on a square. The square was full of runaway soldiers, the wounded, the scared, and a bunch of regular villagers.

All were converging on the church steps. Half a dozen had hold of an animal that might have been a blue deer with a scorpion tail, but for the fact that it was half-covered in gray feathers.

<Ax?> Jake asked.

<Yep,> I said.

<We�re going in!>

Jake redoubled his speed and went plowing straight into the crowd. I rode till he was stopped by the compacted bodies around us, then I stood up on his back and leaped.

Hork-Bajir are naturally arboreal. Meaning they live a lot of their lives in the trees. So they can jump pretty well.
I jumped. I sailed over the heads of outraged villagers and slammed into a wooden door so thick and sturdy it might as well have been a tree.

WHAM!

I landed on Ax.

<Ahhh!> he yelled.

<Sorry!>

<Visser Four is inside!> Ax said, sticking to business despite the fact that the nearest villager was trying to stick him with a wooden pitchfork.

I clambered away from Ax and snatched the pitchfork out of the guy�s hands. If they didn�t already believe I was a devil, they sure did now.

<Come on!> I yelled. I grabbed the door handle, twisted it easily, and shoved back on the door.

Ax and I together spilled inside. I slammed the door shut behind us, snatched up a four-by-four and popped it into the iron slots, barring the door.

We were in a church. I was a seven-foot-tall creature with horns and a spiked tail holding a pitchfork. And I was in a church.

I looked at the altar. I looked at the terrified priest who was shaking so badly he couldn�t cross himself.

<Sorry,> I said to the priest. <It�s not what it looks like. Sorry,> I added, looking at the altar.

<Boy, is this the wrong morph in the wrong place.>

Ax was fully Andalite now. Which didn�t help our appearance one bit.

<Visser Four!> Ax said. 

<Me neither.>

<The Time Matrix! He has almost certainly hidden it here. If he reaches it, he will escape.>

Then �

BONNNNNNG!

A distant ringing.

<The bell tower!> Jake cried from outside. <He�s in the bell tower.>

I shot a look around. Stairs. There had to be � <Over there!>

We ran. Ran for the stairs and bounded up them two, three at a time.

The stairs twisted in a tight circle. My big Hork-Bajir feet were twenty sizes too big. I slipped and skinned my knees on sharp stone. Ax leaped over me and raced ahead.

Above us, a wooden platform blocked our way. There was a trapdoor.

FWAPP!

Ax�s tail snapped and cut a slice out of the trapdoor. I shoved up beside him.

<Allow me,> I said.

I drew back my Hork-Bajir fist and rammed it straight upward. The trapdoor slammed back on its hinges.

I pushed myself up and through. Not possible for Ax.

And there, before me, was the deadliest thing ever created.

It was a shimmering, featureless globe. Almost as tall as I was. And Visser Four had his hands pressed against it, a look of concentration on his face.

He smiled at me.

�So. The Andalites pursue me still,� he sneered. �I was careless. I did not expect to be pursued. But I�ll be careful now. Yes. And you know what? It�s better this way. I have the power now! I have the POWER!�

I lunged.

The globe shimmered. Visser Four grinned.

My blades flashed.

On emptiness.

It's a wash, I guess. Visser Four escaped, but he failed to kill Henry V.

Chapter 17
Jake

quote:

�Where�d that dang horse come from?�

�Don�t reckon I know, Tom.�

�It�s Sergeant, you clodhopper. How many times I got to tell you that? He must belong to one of the officers. He�s a beauty, he is.�

The horse was me.

I�d been standing outside the church as Ax and Tobias raced to catch Visser Four. Obviously they�d failed because I was no longer outside the church.

Now I was standing in the middle of a press of men, all shuffling more or less forward.

Forward was toward the muddy bank of a river.

It was dark. Night. Cold.

The horse morph had been bred for northern European winters so it wasn�t suffering too much.

That didn�t change the fact that it was cold.

The sky was dark. The kind of dark you don�t see in a world filled with street lamps and porch lights. Clouds hid the moon and stars. So dark that I could barely see the two or three guys closest to me. I saw the river only because the bank was outlined in white: Ice floes were crunching into the shore.

I heard the sound of wood on wood. A hollow, random sound. Boats bobbing together in the river current.
The ground had probably been snow-covered. But now it was mud churned by hundreds,
possibly thousands of feet.

One thing was sure, at least: This was no longer France. The men around me spoke English. The accent was strange, kind of as if you had a bunch of country folks trying to speak with an English accent.

�Don�t much favor the look of them trees over yonder,� a man said. �Whole troop of Hessians could be back up in there.�

�If they�s Hessians I guess the general would know,� another man answered. ��Sides, some of our boys is already acrost.�

Hessians. The word meant something to me. Something. What?

I�d heard it before, I was sure of that. Maybe the guys around me were English or maybe American, but either way I�d never heard of any war with Hessia. Hessland. Whatever.

Where were the others?

<Marco? Cassie? Anyone?> I called out in cautious thought-speak.

�Someone get this here horse out of the way!�

A hand searched in the dark for my bridle. I didn�t have one. I backed away, knocking a man down.

I turned and shouldered my way through the men. Whoever had been trying to grab me must have lost interest.

<Rachel! Tobias! Anyone hear me?>

No answer. Maybe they weren�t near enough. Maybe they hadn�t been dragged through time, yet.

Maybe they were no longer alive.

Where was I?

There was a murmur of anticipation from the men around me. �General�s comin�. Guess we�ll be getting along, now.�

�They say as we�re late and the Hessians be waiting for us. They�s a whole army of �em in Trenton. I know. My sister�s husband is from Trenton. Says them Hessians is right tigers in a fight.�

�What do you know about any tiger, Elias, you ain�t never seen a tiger, have you?�

�Shut your cakeholes, you lot,� an authoritative voice snapped.

I stopped moving. Couldn�t go any further for the men pressing in all around me, making a lane for the general.

He walked by quickly with half a dozen well-dressed men trailing him.

I never would have recognized him. Not from any of the paintings I�d seen. Certainly not from his face as it appears on the one-dollar bill. But the men were whispering his name. �Washington.�

He was a big guy. He wore a long buff-colored coat over tight white pants that stopped below the knee. His hair was white. Of course, I thought, that�s a wig. Rich people or important people all wore wigs in those days. These days.

George Washington. Father of the country.

�You know who that is?� Marco asked.

He�d sidled up beside me, out of nowhere.

<Jeez, Marco. How long have you been here?>

�Got here about five minutes ago, dude. Heard you calling. Couldn�t answer, though. I�d already demorphed.�

I turned my big horse head to aim one eye at him. <Where�d you get the clothes?>

�Not exactly clothes,� Marco muttered. �A blanket with a hole for the head. The boots are cool, though.�

<Where did you find boots?>

He shrugged. �You think it�d change the course of history much if George Washington was to lose his extra pair of boots?�

<You stole George Washington�s shoes?>

�Hey, it�s freezing, all right? Not all of us happen to be horses at the moment.�

I heard someone make a not-too-subtle remark about lunatics joining the ranks.

<Marco, stop talking to me. People are noticing. They think you�re nuts.>

Marco fell silent. And then, <Jake? Cassie?>

<Rachel? Is that you?>

<Yeah. I�m in owl morph flying above an army down by some river with some boats. Guys are carrying old-fashioned rifles.>



<No way. George Washington?>

�Jake, tell her �No, Guido Washington.��

<Marco would like me to pass along a sarcastic remark,> I said.

<Wow. Washington. Is this the Delaware? Is he crossing the Delaware?>



<This river is the Delaware. The Delaware River,> Rachel said. 

<Why is he crossing the Delaware?>

�To get to the other side and see the chicken,� Marco whispered.

<Is it just us?> Rachel asked. 

�Oh good, it�s starting to rain,� Marco complained.

<Rachel? Don�t waste time looking for the others, look for Visser Four.>

<Gotcha.>

From down by the water came raised voices. Someone not exactly yelling, but definitely mad. A low-key laugh seemed to travel through the army.

�General�s giving �em hell.�

�What for?�

�What for? Are you simple? We�re late, that�s what for. We�re supposed to be across and march over to Trenton afore first light.�

Trenton. Hessians. Washington crossing the Delaware.

<Visser Four is after Washington,> I said.

�Yep,� Marco agreed.

<We have to get out of here. I have to demorph. Rachel? Find Washington. He must be the target. Stay on him. Whatever you do: Protect George Washington.>

�There�s three words you never thought you�d say,� Marco said with a low laugh.

Fun fact. Washington didn't wear a wig. His hair was his actual hair, just powdered white (his hair was naturally light brown),

Also, regarding accents, there's an interesting theory that the modern standard American accent is probably closer to the 18th century standard British accent than modern British accents. In other words, the accent changed more in the UK than the US.

# ? Oct 3, 2021 03:29

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

When foreigners say "English accent" they usually mean "received pronunciation" (i.e. BBC newsreader voice) but there's probably more accent variation on that one island than across the rest of the Anglosphere put together.

quote:

We were in a church. I was a seven-foot-tall creature with horns and a spiked tail holding a pitchfork. And I was in a church.

I looked at the altar. I looked at the terrified priest who was shaking so badly he couldn�t cross himself.

<Sorry,> I said to the priest. <It�s not what it looks like. Sorry,> I added, looking at the altar.

<Boy, is this the wrong morph in the wrong place.>

This is a classic funny moment but now that I think of it, I wonder if spiky monster with a pitchfork had yet been popularised as the idea of what the devil looks like?

# ? Oct 3, 2021 06:34

Fuschia tude: Dec 26, 2004; THUNDERDOME LOSER 2019

Epicurius posted:

Chapter 17
Jake

This is the bit I was remembering.

This hopping around through time and wars has a bit of a Time Bandits feel, huh?

# ? Oct 3, 2021 06:49

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

It reminds me of the first half of Lost season 5 which more specifically dates me as a nerd.

Out of curiosity, is the Crossing of the Delaware a curriculum flashpoint for American kids? Obviously I'd heard of George Washington by primary school in Australia, but I would've had only the vaguest notions of the American Revolution when I read this book.

# ? Oct 3, 2021 09:55

Comrade Blyatlov: Aug 4, 2007; should have picked four fingers

There's that really famous painting. I think even not specifically knowing the importance of it, it comes across as A Big Deal.

# ? Oct 3, 2021 10:06

Cythereal: Nov 8, 2009; I love the potoo,
and the potoo loves you.

freebooter posted:

It reminds me of the first half of Lost season 5 which more specifically dates me as a nerd.

Out of curiosity, is the Crossing of the Delaware a curriculum flashpoint for American kids? Obviously I'd heard of George Washington by primary school in Australia, but I would've had only the vaguest notions of the American Revolution when I read this book.

Comrade Blyatlov posted:

There's that really famous painting. I think even not specifically knowing the importance of it, it comes across as A Big Deal.

Yup, that painting is in every history textbook for American kids. The usual version of the American Revolution taught in school, as a kid who went to school in the 90s when these books were made, is Tea Party -> Lexington and Concord -> Valley Forge -> Crossing the Delaware -> Victory.

If I'd read this as a kid, this would have read as a very obvious shorthand for the turning point of the Revolution.

# ? Oct 3, 2021 13:17

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

Now that I think of it (spoilering but not really a spoiler) one of the kids specifically references the painting and jokes about how unrealistic it is.

I dunno if the Crossing itself would be a turning point but if V4 wants to assassinate Washington (which would probably be a turning point regardless of when or where it happened...? Or would some other general just fill his shoes...?) this is as good a moment as any to pinpoint the exact time and place where he'd be.

edit - OK having read the Wikipedia article introduction, and thus now having a better understanding of it than any American elementary school pupil, apparently (and it feels weird to spoiler a historical event but appropriate when the actual characters are unsure of its relevance) it led to their surprise success in a critical battle and so it possibly really was one of those pivotal moments in history. Hence the painting, I guess.

freebooter fucked around with this message at 13:38 on Oct 3, 2021

# ? Oct 3, 2021 13:32

Ravenfood: Nov 4, 2011

Also, it's not like Visser 4 needs to actually assassinate him (but knowing when and where he will be probably helps). He just needs to raise the alarm and get the hessians to do it for him/at least not lose.

Ravenfood fucked around with this message at 13:50 on Oct 3, 2021

# ? Oct 3, 2021 13:39

Tree Bucket: Apr 1, 2016; R.I.P.idura leucophrys

Ahh, history...
Will your homeland be remembered for its magnificent soldiers? Or for a scratchy ugly fabric?

e: hold on, wikipedia tells me that our American cousins call hessian "burlap."
Also Hessians Auxiliaries (not mercenaries!) made up a quarter of the British army at one point-? Wow, learning is fun!

Tree Bucket fucked around with this message at 14:24 on Oct 3, 2021

# ? Oct 3, 2021 14:05

Fuschia tude: Dec 26, 2004; THUNDERDOME LOSER 2019

freebooter posted:

I dunno if the Crossing itself would be a turning point but if V4 wants to assassinate Washington (which would probably be a turning point regardless of when or where it happened...? Or would some other general just fill his shoes...?) this is as good a moment as any to pinpoint the exact time and place where he'd be.

Well, America didn't have many other great generals in the war. Washington's skill wasn't really winning, which he rarely did, so much as being able to consistently and efficiently retreat. Which, when you're fighting a largely guerrilla war against the toughest army in the world and your main goal is to wear them down and cause enough war weariness for the major power to withdraw, is usually the best you can hope for in any given engagement.

That said, Washington dying before becoming the first president a couple decades later would have changed US history to an almost unimaginable degree. As president of the Constitutional Convention, and advocate for a much stronger federal government than the Confederation it was replacing, he was a major reason the Constitution turned out the way it did; in refusing to rule as a king or military dictator after the war, and then emulating Cincinnatus by stepping down and allowing a successor to take over after two terms as US president, he set a lot of norms that those who followed were loath to break, ensuring stability and continuity of government in the delicate first decades of independence.

# ? Oct 3, 2021 17:10

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 18
Rachel

quote:

Protect George Washington.

Right. No problem. I was an owl.

The army was loading into the boats. Not enough boats, from the look of it. They must have already pulled across the river once; there was a group of a couple hundred over there.

What had started out as rain had quickly become sleet. The weather was miserable. And it was clear that the men on the ground thought so, too.

Many of them wore little more than rags. Rags were wrapped around their feet. They weren�t quite as skanky as the French and English at Agincourt but they were close. If they had fewer fleas and lice it probably had to do with the fact that it was too cold for fleas to breed.

I drifted above them, my wings coating up with sleet every time I stopped flapping them for too long.

I kept Washington in sight. He had to be Visser Four�s target, just as King Henry had been. It made sense. Visser Four�s plan was to remove influential people from history. It was the obvious thing to do: no Washington, maybe no United States. Maybe the Revolution fails and everything changes.

But why King Henry and Agincourt? What would have happened if Visser Four had managed to kill Henry?

<Doesn�t matter,> I muttered. Some English king was one thing. This was the Father of our Country. The first president of the United States. No one was going to take him down.

But we could use more help, I realized. Marco and Jake were trapped down in the mass of men. Jake was still in horse morph, although I saw Marco leading him away toward the woods, presumably to demorph.

That was still just three of us. Where were �

<Yah!> I yelped in surprise. It was sheer accident that I happened to be looking when Cassie popped into existence about fifty yards down the riverbank, just beyond range of the colonial soldiers. She was human. She must have been left in 1415 long enough to demorph.

<Cassie! I see you. I�m in owl morph. Here�s the deal: Washington is crossing the Delaware, and yes, I mean the Washington.>

I saw her look up. Night is meaningless to an owl. Even this night.

I saw her mouth form the words �George Washington?�

She couldn�t see me, of course. <Yeah. George, National Daddy, that�s me-on-the-dollar-bill-with-a-city-and-a-state-named-after-me Washington> I said. <Jake figures Visser Four is going to try and smoke him. They�re getting ready to load him up, I think. George, I mean. Yes, he�s heading for a boat.>

Cassie made a sinuous motion with her hands. A swimming motion.

<Dolphin? Yeah. Good idea.> Cassie in the river, yeah, that would help, maybe. But Visser Four could be beneath any of the hundreds of hats I saw below me. All he needed was a musket and a clear shot. He could already be taking aim �

Jake and Marco reemerged from the trees. Both human. And somehow Jake now had a blanket over his head and some rags wrapped around his feet.

I didn�t know how that had happened. But I guess if Marco could find a way to rip off Big George�s extra boots �

Still they had to be cold as they plowed through the crowd of men, rushing to reach a boat.

<Jake? Rachel? Is anyone else here, or am I the only one watching George Freaking Washington climbing into a boat?>

Tobias!

<You recognized him?> I demanded.

<Of course I recognized him,> Tobias said. <That�s The Man! Are you kidding?>

<Is Ax with you?>

<Yeah, the both of us popped up just now. We�re across the river. I�m still in Hork-Bajir morph. Think maybe I�d better demorph. What�s the deal?>

<Jake and Marco human, getting into a boat. Cassie, mid-morph a dolphin, about to get into the water. Me, I�m flying around enjoying the delightful weather.>

<There are armed men over on this side,> Ax interjected.

 Tobias said. <Hork-Bajir eyes, man.>

<Those are good guys,> I said. <Guys have been going across for a while now. I don�t think they have enough boats.>

<Ah,> Ax said. <They seem to be very alert.>



<Ah,> Ax said again. <But �> He hesitated, as if something was bothering him.

<It�s okay, Ax, it�s a good thing they have guys over there already,> I said, reassuring him. <Nothing to worry about.>

Whenever you think there's nothing to worry about, there's something to worry about. Especially when you're listening to the only trained soldier among you.

Chapter 19
Marco

quote:

We got into a boat. Turned out not to be all that hard. No one was all that anxious to climb on board for the trip across an icy, raging river in the middle of a sleet storm. Can�t imagine why.

�Ah, yes,� I muttered to Jake, �the Love Boat takes a detour to hell.�

�My feet are freezing,� he answered, eye-balling my feet. My warm, dry feet. �Too bad the Big Guy didn�t have a third pair of boots.�

�They wouldn�t fit you,� I said. �Not your size.�

�Uh-huh.�

There�s a very famous painting of Washington crossing the Delaware. It hows George standing up in the middle of this boat like one of the lifeboats from Titanic and looking all determined and Father-of-the-country-ish.

Two things wrong with that.

One, the boats were low-sided, flat-bottomed, rocking, spinning, swamped, water-up-to-yourankles pieces of junk. Not that you could even feel your ankles. Unless you had boots on.

There were too many wet, mad, depressed, shivering, scared men and boys packed into too few boats in the middle of a hurricane of sleet on a river that was a rush-hour expressway of gigantic chunks of ice.

Sleet was piling up on my head. There was sleet on my shoulders. Sleet in my eyes, sleet freezing into a crust of ice on my knees, sleet on my bare fingers, fingers numb, numb till they would barely move and you had to think about unbending them.

On top of all this, the guys were not thinking so much about how they were on a mission to create a great democratic nation. They were mostly concerned with the fact that the sleet was getting down the barrels of their guns, and into the flintlocks, and how wet gunpowder might as well be Bisquick.

That was the first thing wrong with that painting.

The second thing was if George had been a big enough idiot to want to stand up in the middle of all this, his men would have figured he was a lunatic and turned around and learned to enjoy crumpets.

If you worked at it, you could not create a more miserable little boat trip. Guys rowing like mad. Using poles to keep the icebergs from turning us into a bunch of badly dressed Leonardo DiCaprios.

�That�s the guy,� Jake said. He was looking toward the boat that rode the current a dozen or so feet away to our right. Or starboard, I guess.

Washington�s boat.

I thought at first he meant he�d spotted Visser Four. But he was looking at Big George.

You know, it�s dumb, I guess. I�m not some big �wave the flag� guy, you know? But that man over there, huddling down in his coat while the ice crusted his hat, that was George Washington. It was hard to digest.

I twisted my head, dislodging some of the slush.

�Like Tobias said: The Man� Jake said. �No him, no us maybe.�

�Yeah. And Visser Four could be in his boat right now.�

Jake nodded. �Rachel�s on it.�

�Hey, we�re almost there. Gee, I hate to see this pleasure cruise come to -�

Ka-PopPopPopPopPopPop!

A horizontal line of flame erupted, blinding in the darkness. Twenty, thirty, who knew how many ancient muskets, all firing at once, a disciplined volley.

I couldn�t see the damage done. But I heard the cries.

�Turn back!� someone screamed.

A second volley!

Ka-PopPopPopPopPopPop!

Again, exploding powder drew that awful horizontal line.

�We�re betrayed!�

�Turn back!�

�No! Forward!�

Our boat began to turn, but lost its way and simply wallowed as men lurched back and forth in panic. On the far shore, no longer so far, the ancient flintlock muskets opened fire again. Fingers squeezed on triggers. The hammer, with its chip of flint, slammed down against steel.

The spark ignited the powder in the flashpan. It made a small coughing sound. Then the main powder charge ignited.

Pop!

A ball of lead the size of a marble flew.

But not one, single gun. A mass of guns. All firing at once.

Fifty, sixty, a hundred explosions!

A hundred balls, flying, singing through the air.

Thunk!

The man sitting in front of me fell back. His head dropped on my lap.

�Aaahhh!� I yelled.

Thunk!

An oar was blown in half.

Thunk!

A hole appeared in Jake�s forehead.

There goes Jake. Also, it's a good look at the reality of the crossing of the Delaware vs the painting.

# ? Oct 4, 2021 03:29

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# ? May 26, 2024 22:49

CidGregor: Sep 27, 2009; TG: if i were you i would just take that fucking devilbeast out behind the woodshed and blow its head off

Epicurius posted:

There goes Jake. Also, it's a good look at the reality of the crossing of the Delaware vs the painting.

I sort of got the impression that history was already a little effed up at this point by their collective meddling and that it wasn't actually *quite* this bad? But yeah I'm sure the historical perspective is a lot more idealized than the reality.

# ? Oct 4, 2021 04:31

The Something Awful Forums > Archives > Comedy Goldmine > Let's Read Animorphs! The Whole Series! Ch-ch-ch-chaaanges

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