Part 1 - Fair Weather Fouls England
July 16th 1588, Off the coast of Plymouth
For almost two months the Grand Armada assembled by His Majesty King Phillip II of Spain, has been on the move. With each day it comes closer to the English coast. Aided by fair weather in the bay of Biscay, the fleet has arrived ahead of schedule and caught the whole of the English fleet unawares. On the deck of the San Martin the Duke of Medina Sidonia converse with his King, who decided to accompany the armada on the whims of a dream. As Sidonia looks over the English forces scrambling against the low tide to try and array themselves into an order of battle, he turns to his monarch. "Your majesty, if it would please you, I would urge us to strike now and destroy this English resistance before they can rise against us." As Philip gazes out over these waters that the Heathen English queen claims, to the coast that should belong to those who serve the true faith, his eyes harden and he nods. "Burn their ships, let these be the first heathens to taste gods wrath."
July 17th, Plymouth harbor.
Flame and smoke. That is all that remains of the shattered hulks of England's first line of defense. Her ships lay in ruins, shattered by Spanish powder and shot, and the Great Armada that unleashed such hell upon gods enemies now sails ever closer to the Duke of Parmas army in Flanders.
(This is my first timeline so I'm willing to accept any and all criticisms and advice)
For almost two months the Grand Armada assembled by His Majesty King Phillip II of Spain, has been on the move. With each day it comes closer to the English coast. Aided by fair weather in the bay of Biscay, the fleet has arrived ahead of schedule and caught the whole of the English fleet unawares. On the deck of the San Martin the Duke of Medina Sidonia converse with his King, who decided to accompany the armada on the whims of a dream. As Sidonia looks over the English forces scrambling against the low tide to try and array themselves into an order of battle, he turns to his monarch. "Your majesty, if it would please you, I would urge us to strike now and destroy this English resistance before they can rise against us." As Philip gazes out over these waters that the Heathen English queen claims, to the coast that should belong to those who serve the true faith, his eyes harden and he nods. "Burn their ships, let these be the first heathens to taste gods wrath."
July 17th, Plymouth harbor.
Flame and smoke. That is all that remains of the shattered hulks of England's first line of defense. Her ships lay in ruins, shattered by Spanish powder and shot, and the Great Armada that unleashed such hell upon gods enemies now sails ever closer to the Duke of Parmas army in Flanders.
(This is my first timeline so I'm willing to accept any and all criticisms and advice)
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