I'm a Keltic footman with his patrol, there is a line of advancing British infantrymen on the winning side of the battle of Coladn. I am firing, picking them off alongside my other men, painted in blue. In being a Highland Clansman, the British finally outnumbered and overwhelmed my line. I was killed by a shining British bayonet. I am laying there on the green, grassy hill, dying.
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