tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16113262265703786442024-03-05T17:06:50.783-08:00FrankszoniaBegan with a whimsical "Frankfurter Wars" ... and developed into the gadfly between Gallia and Hesse Seewald campaign. Now bumping into other imagi-nations of the Empire vs. Elector blog which arose from the fun! I use Koenig Krieg and Battles of the Ancien Regime rules.Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.comBlogger194125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-48610488252214777332019-10-04T20:07:00.001-07:002019-10-04T20:07:11.034-07:00following strokes 2012-2014, then divorce 20116,my whole miniatues collection as misplaced. The same da in2018 that theywere found I SUFFERED ANOTHER STROKE! Growf! Now maybe weeks away from going home again, I've begun painting agqin :0 If this reovery continues, I'll be back in battl by ChristmasFrankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-37951005814006030692011-09-24T12:17:00.000-07:002011-09-24T12:23:50.377-07:00ressurectionInstead of insurrection -- the common state of Frankszonia -- :)<br /><br />I broke a leg in January. There were complications. I was forced into a nursing home for a couple of months until I managed to engineer an escape. <br />Then I came down with some sort of flesh eating strep infection.<br />The infection is under control, but it may be another two months before the wounds fully heal.<br />Interim, the leg is not getting proper therapy so it is not healing at a satisfactory rate.<br /><br />While I'm still bedbound, I've discovered that all my gaming supplies have been relocated ... and are inaccessible to me right now (grr). <br />I'm floundering around with this old laptop to re-establish contact.<br /><br />How's the Empire???<br /><br />ArthurFrankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-13071877294848805892011-01-08T12:26:00.000-08:002011-01-08T12:28:40.753-08:00Durn it!Computer is dying, so switched to laptop ... and lap top is not showing all my features! <br />:(<br /><br />http://constantine-ii.webs.com/, is a new imagination "Herzogtum v.Rechsburg" which I'd hoped to add to the list ....<br /><br />AFrankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-26803764754602279772010-12-02T20:17:00.000-08:002010-12-02T20:23:28.005-08:00Public SedimentTidbits circulation in the Frankfurter market and barracks:<br /><br />Oh, Stagonians brag, When they're deep in their wine<br />That Stagonian life is so very, very fine<br />That Gallians can keep<br />Their nasty goats and sheep;<br />A Stagonian will happily wallow with swine! <br /><br />Given what he's taken for a wife, does Ludwig like his food also second hand?<br /><br />Gallians are disgusting enough,<br />Beware a Stagonian with snuff ...<br /><br />(the Ducal court denies that it has any part in disseminating such putrid humor).Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-54005271507303636132010-11-26T10:43:00.001-08:002010-11-26T10:45:09.712-08:00and why??While it may be Christmas before I can resolve things in the current story line, the intent is to try BAR again (will have to reread the rules again, too! LOL) with very tiny forces on the table. <br />A few squadrons of cavalry each, a couple of battalions of infantry each, and only the light artillery. <br /><br />and of course a man to figure scale game for the "kidnapping" attempt ...<br /><br />:)<br />ArthurFrankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-23643125912580829982010-11-24T19:34:00.000-08:002010-11-24T19:35:22.296-08:00Autumn (3 cont)Autumn (con.t 4) \<br /><br /> Intendent Bastille had strolled into town to take his morning coffee and there met L’Comte d’Beauphaup. As they walked back out the gates to the Gallian stonghold, d’Beauphaup wondered how the Soweiter League was going to take the violation of Offenbach’s neutrality. <br /> Bastille winced internally and casually asked what violation could the good count mean?<br /> “We’ve intelligence that the 5th Porque Line and the Libbenstal Dragoons intend to use their crossing of the Main to move around the congestion around your depot,” the count answered.<br /> “We’ve no such units in the Gallian Army,” Bastille protested.<br /> “Really?” the count asked. “V. Mack reports than his team has intercepted their advance men in the Offenbach outskirts near our batteries.” <br /> “But, we have no such units!” Bastille protested.<br /> “Interesting,” the count responded nonchalantly. “We thought that they were another batch German recruits as only their officers spoke any French, at it was pretty vile .... Oh! Excuse me, m’Lord, I must intercept those flower carts I promised Madame V. Kern an excellent selection for today.” <br /> Bastille strode purposefully back to his office. As he passed the guards at the door, he caught the eye of an ensign. “Get contact with Maistre Pierre,” he commanded brusquely and climbed up to the chart room, where he began spreading out local charts. Lt. Legume stepped helpfully forward and was handed an hastily scribbled note for Gen. Chevert. <br /><br /> Meanwhile, in the fields northwest of Frankfurter, the parish of St. Gertrude was being swiftly transformed into St. Gertrude of Jesus. Nice new statues were added to the graveyard and the nave. Close inspection might reveal that they’d been painted so swiftly that bugs were stuck on them. The congregation was in an unusual state of excitement. Even though few of them were really Catholics, the presence of the polite and healthy young advanced seminarians undergoing some field work experience under Fr. Umlaut was causing some comment. Even the local Anglerican circuit rider was jealous. <br /> To placate him, Fr. Umlaut promised to take some Protestant men in to study Rubrics too. This may have been a mistake as the local frauleins soon realized the later young seminarians were eligible. The Vespers services and benediction began to attract a small crowd. <br />Fr. Umlaut let it slip that he was looking for a good Mission team (Revival for Protestants) to better minister to the temporary crowd. <br /> An Italian merchant who happened to overhear him at the inn mentioned that he might soon be meeting with an abbot who would probably gladly provide somebody. Fr. Umlaut was grateful, as the merchants usually pushed on through to Frankfurter. The merchant assured the rustic cleric that it was no problem. The merchant had simply been too tired and a little unwell and didn’t want to have to deal with the Frankfurter gate hassles in the late evening. <br /> “Such an experience is bound to leave a Mark on someone,” the priest agreed.<br /> “Well there’s marks and there’s Marks,” the Italian philosophized. “Some are easier to deal with than others. Most of them you can cover up.”<br /> “Just so long as one doesn’t make a Habit out of it, “ Fr. Umlaut agreed. “Ah well, I hope you have good luck, friend. Alas, I must return to read my office before the light fails.” <br /> The Italian toasted him with his stein and watched the priest amble back to the Rectory. Then he rose and went around to the stables where his servant was caring for the horses. “V. Mark is here,” he told the lad. <br /> “For sure?”<br /> “Yes, the priest tried to warn me. I suspect he’s being watched rather closely.”<br /> “If V. Mark is here, then surely the Apostate is not far away,” the youngster enthused.<br /> “That is quite possible,” the merchant responded. “Anyway,” he continued louder, “you need to take the mare out for some exercise tonight. Steer clear of all these military patrols, won’t you, I need the horse back in the morning, and it would be helpful you came back too.”<br /> “I’ll do my best,” the lad grinned as the merchant returned to the beer garden. <br /><br /> A few moments later, he rode an aging mare out of the paddock and down the road. Soon After the road had turned around the hill, he came on an hussar who was inspecting his saddle straps. “Guten Abend!” he called cheerfully. <br /> “Depends on how and to whom you’re bending,” the hussar joked as he straightened up. <br /> “I’ll drink to that!” the lad responded, to which the hussar quickly produced a flask, took a swig and offered to share with “Proust!” <br /> The lad thanked him and took a drink. As he handed it back, he apologized, “I didn’t mean to drink the whole thing.” <br /> “The whole thing?”<br /> “That’s my guess, I’ve got to find the good merchant’s train to give them their Marks.”<br /> “On your Mark, then,” the Hussar responded. “I’ve to to get back to my billet too.” <br /><br /> As the lad rode on into the dusk, SomeRussian Guyovitch mounted and turned back towards the hunting lodge. Events were developing again.Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-24078049835992112782010-11-10T10:54:00.000-08:002010-11-10T10:56:09.054-08:00Autumn (2nd cont)Autumn (2nd cont)<br /><br />The room was small by comparison with others in the palace. Unfortunately, this made the lurid ostentation of the gilded, rococo furniture, the ornate frames of the erotic paintings, and the excessive folds of burgundy drapes even more overly lush. King Ludwig set his goblet (the stem being a statue of an orgastic dancer from some vile Greek rite) down on the small round of bluestone within the ropes of gilded ornamentation of the table and asked, “Andrew Kern? The order is sure?” <br /> A portly courtier whose face hid behind bushy cheek beards and mustache grinned. “The last witness to our little escapades in the hunting lodge, Sire.” <br /> “He’s an, ah, irritation,” the king continued, “and must be scratched. But why should we be concerned with Prince Allbrick? He’s illegitimate, disowned, and apostate. We can’t even use him ourselves.” <br /> A tall courtier in riding clothes responded. “He was the eldest, Sire; and there’s a rumor that Stanken plans to acknowledge him and give him an auto-de-fe reconversion. That’d put another cavalry genius and skilled plotter in place as Prince Regent should the Hurtshog not recover from his unfortunate wound.” <br /> “That’s another irritation!” the King snapped. “How could Herr Badspielman miss? We’d gotten him placed right beside that bloated bum as an aide!” <br /> “It seems that the swollen sausage is very agile and slippery when riding into a charge, Sire. We’re lucky that the Frankszonians didn’t realize that it wasn’t just a battle wound.” <br /> “Too bad about Badspielman, though,” the portly courtier shook his head. “Why did he let himself get carried so close to an infantry formation?”<br /> “He didn’t,” the rider responded. “That’s just where his body was recovered afterwards.” <br /> A moment of silence followed as the two courtiers thought that a bullet could have been fired by more than just the public combatants. The king returned to his complaint, “Why must we risk an agent against this greasy Frankfurter? We’ve already lost an entire team in our last attempt on the Kerns.”<br /> “His return of the things he took with him into exile is perhaps more important than his person,” the portly councilor commented. “A seal, a ring or two, and a very small scepter.” <br /><br />(A computer crash erased the interesting byplay as Pederastein, the Portly Courtier, and King Ludwig continued their plotting. Alas, too ill to recreate it, but here’s a synopsis)<br /> <br /> They will infiltrate Stagonian troops into the area around the hideout. After all, the Stagonians are already uniformed like Gallians and their attack would trigger a general Frankszonian uprising and destroy the Fhartzen standing with the Gallians, and thus remove them from rule. Such deceitful tactics were deemed vile enough. <br /> This attack, however, is a cover for another plot. Originally, they’d planned to kidnap and kill the Urpprinz and frame Allbrick and Andrew Kern for the deed. This was altered, though, when they realized that it might be too vile ... and arouse an horrible coalition against them if exposed ... which would create the kind of political community of minor princes which Frankszonia had been advocating as a response to the pressure of the greater powers. Therefore, they decided to make the attack on the Urpprinz a cover for an attempt to steal the Urpprinz’s treasure box. There was information that the items brought back by Allbrick were kept there under the guard of two large black Turkish warriors. <br /> Thus they will vilely deceive the Fhartzen and Kerns into destroying themselves!Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-33309916935357543542010-11-03T14:10:00.000-07:002010-11-03T14:12:19.949-07:00Autumn, (1st cont.)Autumn (cont. 1)<br /><br /> A somewhat worn but quite well made coach pulled up to a coach house in rural Stagonia. Three, well attired merchants stepped down and entered the common room. With thick Italian accents they place their orders and ask for the ostler to assist their driver. The innkeeper disdainfully noted their accent and their freshly minted Florins. He grumpily told his waitress to take care of the foreigners and stumped out to the stable. <br /> “Zuckerman!” he called. There was a clatter from the rear of the stables and a somewhat bedraggled man emerged with his fork still in his hand. “There is an Italian coach out front. Their coachman wants to you examine a horse for some reason.”<br /> “Ja, ja,” the ostler replied and walked out into the courtyard. The innkeeper noticed that the ostler tucked something under his tunic just before he stepped into the light. <br /><br /> “Gutten Morgen,” Zuckerman greeted the coachman who was bent down examining some of the straps on a lead horse. “Und vat ist der problem, mein Herr?” <br /> The coachman straightened up and turned to the ostler. As he did so, he made a small gesture above his right eyebrow. Zuckerman looked around the empty courtyard quickly and turned back to the driver who said, “these horses are a trouble. I’d swear one of them was obtained from those Croats and the other is a Protestant.” <br /> “Perhaps,” the ostler replied, “they’d pull better if we changed them from side to side.” <br /> “Pasha was already switched over here,” the driver replied, “but with Andrew Kern beside him, he tends to fight the lead a lot more.” <br /> “Have you tried giving Andrew a stein of beer before starting?” the ostler responded, concealing an involuntary jerk as he heard the names. <br /> “It’d take a whole keg to get us all the way to Frankfurter,” the driver responded. <br /> “Can your party stay tonight, Father?” Zuckerman asked. The Driver quickly hushed him and looked around furtively to make sure the courtyard was still empty. Zuckerman looked up at some crows squabbling in the branches overhead. “I know a good horse dealer,” he continued, “who might be able to help you. Herr Pederastien.”<br /> “Doesn’t he supply mounts for the Stagonian Lieb Garde?” the coachman asked. <br /> “Sometimes,” the ostler responded, “and some good grooms too.”<br /> “Well, as God Wills It,” the coachman sighed.<br /> “Ja, as “god” wills it,” the ostler smirked as he turned back to the stables.Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-8937423970682610102010-10-25T23:52:00.000-07:002010-10-25T23:56:31.740-07:00Order of Good King JosephThe Hurtshog has been humbled by being included into a new order of heroes.<br />The honor which has been extended to us by Katzenstein will be fondly remembered.<br />We are barbecuing some beef now to celebrate.<br /><br />The Hurtshog Stanken Fhartz von Frankfurter ....Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-72961106836595753262010-10-25T00:38:00.001-07:002010-10-25T00:40:15.406-07:00Enter the Holy ManAutumn <br /><br />(I apologize for the bad German in my posts. Forty odd years ago, I could read and mumble a bit of Deutsche along with some others ... all that burned away in a high fever about 1968 or 69. So I’m using dim memories of phrases common around the house .... in hopes of someday reviving access to those memories).<br /><br /> Father Umlaut, a cheerful, portly priest was putting up the buckets and brooms in the sacristy of St. Griselda’s. As usual, he’d had to clean up after the morning Mass. There were few Papists in his parish, and the episcopal directive that paid positions such as sexton (and except for musicians) had to be given to the “true Faithful” rather restricted the available pool of talent for sextons and such. No matter, he needed the little exercise it gave him, and the extra prayer time before the Eucharist. He was grateful for the good nature of the villagers. His Altar Sodality was mostly Protestant (and the reason that his main altar cloths were quilts). He finished locking up the chalice and rinsing out the cruet (most churches used two, one for water and one for wine ... since he tended to pour straight from the bottle which was shared with folks after Mass .... it being always donated by one of the local vintners .... he only needed one cruet). <br /> He went out into the Sanctuary again, genuflected, and happily turned towards the doors and their enticing view of Bruderhansen beer garden across the road. Abruptly, a shadow detached itself from the stairs to the choir loft. “Eine Moment, mein Vater,” it whispered. <br /> “Certainly, mein Herr ....?” Fr. Umlaut responded. <br /> “Herr Schwartzmann, Vater,” the man whispered. <br /> “You need Confession?” The priest asked the stranger. <br /> “Nein. Ich nichts hier bin, Verstehe?” it whispered back. <br /> “Ah,” the normally cheerful cleric was saddened. More difficulties, and now in his parish. “Sigh”.<br /> “Kommen Sie vor dem Hurtshog.” <br /> “The Hurtshog!?!” Father Umlaut quickly lowered his voice. There’d been rumors of a wound and an infection in the battle at the Gallian Depot. Were Last Rites needed for their patriotic ruler? “I’ll get my anointing kit,” he whispered to the stranger and turned back to the sacristy. <br /> “Nein, nein,” the dark man responded. “Aber, Kommen Sie schnell, bitte.” The man tugged at Fr. Umlaut’s cassock urgently, so they went outside together. Father saw a tinker’s cart waiting beside the church and clambered aboard with Schwartzmann. They soon plodded out of town, but as soon as the road curved behind the first hill, Schwartzmann shouted and the horse broke into a swift trot. Startled, Father Umlaut looked more closely at the mane, tail, and rump rushing ahead of him. This was no tinker’s horse! <br /> After they’d jounced down the road for about a half an hour, the cart turned onto a faint trace which Umlaut knew led to a dilapidated estate which had been an hunting lodge in a previous century. No sooner had the cart passed through the tree line, however, two dragoons rode quickly out of cover and challenged them. Schwartamann simply stood up in his seat and lifted the huge,, floppy hat. The troopers saluted and turned back to their hiding places. <br /> Seconds later, the cart came into view of a very refurbished mansion. Fr Umlaut swept his eyes around quickly and spotted mounted Cuirassiers of the Lieb Garde posted about the park. Once again, the good priest worried for the safety of Frankszonia. As they drove through the gates, he noted that the sentry boxes were filled with Jaegers who stood guard with the crispness of Grenadiers. Two civilians came out to help the priest down.<br /> “Herr Schwartzman,” one of the men said quietly to the priest’s companion.<br /> “Herr Badmann,” the tinker replied.<br /> “We’ve got some hot Frankfurters boiling.”<br /> “I’ll drink to that,” Schwartamann completed what was obviously a ritual. “He seemed familiar?” he asked about the other civilian who was leading the cart and its horse away.<br /> “Von Mack,” Baddmann grinned.<br /> “Ah,” Schwartzmann nodded his acknowledgment. <br /><br /> As the party entered the gloomy hall, Fr. Umlaut heard a baby crying somewhere nearby. A door opened and a Russian hussar and a Turkish officer stepped towards them warily. “Well, Mackie,” the Turk asked in the local German dialect, “is this your little saint?” <br /> “Prince Allbrick?” Fr Umlaut burst excitedly. <br /> “Nein, Nein,” Schwartzmann interrupted, “Er ist der Pasha Pastrami!”<br /> “Right,” the priest winked at the “Turk” who then introduced his friend, SomeRussian Guyovitch. They apologized for their unfamiliarity with local customs as they led the priest into a chamber where two ladies were soothing a cradle and a group of officers were clustered near the fireplace. Hottotrot and Beauphaup were seated with another lady beside a wounded officer lying on a chaise. Then, the Hurtshog rose somewhat stiffly from the cluster of officers.<br /> “Benjamin,” the portly noble greeted Fr Umlaut. “I’d take you by the hand, but they’ve got it tapped to my side,” he chuckled. “Your Highness,” he called to the women by the cradle, “If you and your brother would be so good as to join us?” One of the ladies rose and joined with Guyovitch and the Pasha. Umlaut recognized the Duchess v. Kern. <br /> “This is a pleasure!” the priest hugged her jovially. “We were all afraid that you’d been killed in one of Stanken’s mad schemes.” <br /> “Unfortunately,” one of the officers responded grimly, “the order knows we’re all alive too.”<br /> “The order?” Umlaut was shocked. “That was suppressed!”<br /> “Yeah, right,” the “Pasha” responded. “I had to shoot my way through them at Aschenberg.” <br /> “And,” Guyovitch added, “since they’re suppressed, they can’t possible be combining with von Pederastein from Stagonia, right?” <br /> “That’s sickening,” Umlaut agreed. <br /> “We’ve thought of a way of spotting them, however, before they strike,” a tall, dark officer volunteered in an heavy accent. “They will be hunted even as they stalk us.” <br /> “And that,” the Hurtshog chimed in cheerfully, “is where you and your empty church come into the game.”Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-29631488808722397562010-08-30T07:31:00.000-07:002010-08-30T07:35:58.751-07:00some cheery thoughtsLast night, at our evening prayers, Edie and I got a bit of an insight.<br />Our bodies have been scaring us a lot lately ... serious pains, heart trouble, blood clots, etc. etc.<br />for years, we've counted on the prayer support of our friends to carry us over the crisis. <br />We were wondering why all these prayers were getting such partial results when we realized ...<br />for some years, our living conditions had been really horrible ... and every attempt to improve them proved either beyond our reach or suddenly evaporated. <br />In the last few months, however, several of these problems have suddenly found real solutions which may be developing into a sustainable situation. <br />It seems obvious to us now that God saw that healing our bodies would be non-productive as long as the conditions which seemed to create our troubles continued ... and the healing began with things like getting our yard bull dozed clean.<br />Praise and Thanksgiving !Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-68659732692692019532010-08-27T11:18:00.000-07:002010-08-27T11:34:08.968-07:00just an updateFirst of all, I thank you all for your kind wishes. <br />The recovery continues apace ... unfortunately at a very slow, pre-Frederick pace! <br />As one problem improves, another is unmasked. If things continue, I'll be able to start new therapy September which will be a major improvement all around. <br />Unfortunately, until then, between the zombie impact of the medications and the time to lie very quietly with my legs up ... there's less than an hour out of every four. I'm hoping that I'll be able to undertake a speaking engagement in September which doesn't leave me any time to paint figures, push lead, or really write fun events. <br />This has led to a major hiatus with the Margrafin and Mr. Mack ... for whom I'd planned a dizzying set of dances, parties, and intrigues (a couple of my officers being classic ... uh ... romantics? .... ) I'm tempted to say that they had to be put into quarantine for their protection ... but as a lovely adventure seems about to be written for them on another blog ... :)<br />On the good side, the wife came across a couple of scenario maps and wants to play one of the games, so a good game is now scheduled for the day after the new therapy starts! Of course, given that she'll be involved, there should be some good pictures too. Hope springs eternal!Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-55891926897739642192010-08-14T17:33:00.000-07:002010-08-14T17:35:37.982-07:00Ground Round ...Just a quick hello ...<br />I've been laid up, but the infections seem to be receding and the deep vein thrombosis may be in control ... but alas, it limits the time I'm allowed to sit up and type!<br />I did manage to sneak a small game in anyway ... no pictures again, alas.<br />Report afterwards.Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-12992770708931365392010-07-25T13:30:00.000-07:002010-07-25T13:31:11.334-07:00swords are crossedGiblet already knew that his own goose was cooked, but he gallantly attempted to fight. First he sent gallopers into the depot to bring warning. Then he called his scattered troopers to rally south of Friedburgerwart. Even as his detachments came rushing towards him, however, the Gallian officer saw the hostile dragoons dash through the village and wheel their sections into line. Knowing that his squadrons would never be able make a regular formation in time, Giblet gambled and ordered them to dash, helter skelter, into the foe. <br />Surprisingly, most of his troopers did charge, but many seemed to shout, “get stuffed!” and flee back towards the depot. <br />The foe made a short counter charge, but their mass and formation easily pushed aside the confused Gallians. Major Giblet had his hat shorn away and the epaulet on his right shoulder sliced in half. A Gallian dragoon grabbed the stunned Major’s reins and led him out of the melee onto a grassy knoll.<br /> As the depressed and shaken officer tried to gather his faculties, he rejoiced to see the Oullette Hussars hurring up the road. Then his spirits were dashed again, as a couple squadorns of hostile dragoons caught the hussars still in march column and scattered them as well. Giblet observed that a particular officer, dressed in glowing white, seemed to be the spark behind the rapid reaction and energy of the enemy force.<br /> Then, the alarm cannon and drums roared from the depot. “Finally,” Giblet told the few troopers who were gathering around him. “Let’s see if we can rejoin the cordon in time. Perhaps we delayed them long enough for Broglie to wake up and wave his hands at somebody to take care of the problem!”<br /> They road back towards camp, and saw the other squadrons of their regiment formed up covering some infantry battalions deploying. The Gallians, however, made no attempt to advance to the site of the skirmish, where a huge, reverse colored Frankszonian flag marked the center of a reforming, and still growing, force.Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-82246370447892361072010-07-22T04:40:00.000-07:002010-07-22T05:02:51.704-07:00The raiders close in at last!!(Used a lot of graph paper and dice ... heavens! I miss my miniatures! May be September before they're excavated {something about not letting me heave around tubs filled with lead ... Pfui!})<br /><br /> Major Giblet was worriedly riding his squadron's post at Friedburgerwart just inside the Frankfurter close. The major Gallian supply dumps lay just south of him inside the Frankfurter Gebeit (which is surrounded by tree lined ditch and dyke). Word had already reached him that the expected Resistance raid on the depot had begun. There had been intense fighting to the west, and the smoke rising from the echoes of cannon fire were not as exhilirating as distant fireworks. <br /> The Major ordered his detachment to spread out in skirmishing order towards the west in case any of the foe got by the Frankszonians who were trying to stem the assault for themselves. <br />He had a good unit. Drawn from the Queen's Garden, l' Tampon Azure had acquired a reputation for plugging many a bloody hole in the line. He was confident that their ability to soak up the pressure would give time for the depot to deploy its defense. <br /> Suddenly, one of his troopers came dashing down the line from the dyke. "There's a large force advancing from the Justice De Burgerwart, M'seur!" the man shouted. Major Giblet raced to the dyke to discover a large cavalry force of several squadrons deploying less than a mile away behind him in the east! (A couple of lucky initiative rolls had forced the Gallian unit to guess at the angle of the attack ... they goofed and Parsleigh had force marched into position). <br /><br />More to follow in a few hours, I"m not supposed to be up right now, LOLFrankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-25418202006660394362010-06-24T17:53:00.000-07:002010-06-24T17:56:48.308-07:00They Shall Not Pass!http://campaignsingermania.blogspot.com/2010/06/hurtshog-en-bataille-chapter-1.html<br /><br />Bill Protz has kindly undertaken to resolve the middle battle in the Tannes Berg (btw, Bill, the Tannes mtns are NORTH of Frankfurt, :) ). <br />Lovely pictures and resolution using his excellent BAR rules (which I've praised elsewhere and used myself once or twice). <br />So far, the battle is exciting and events are still in the balance. <br />We'll await results eagerly!Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-20338491711756753262010-06-24T17:44:00.000-07:002010-06-24T17:47:36.227-07:00Woad is driven away from Rudelheim!The after Action Report is at Murdock's Marauders ...<br />http://murdocksmarauders.blogspot.com/2010/06/proxy-battle-after-action-report-my-son.html<br /><br />Woad will have greater control over his survivors than the Rudelheim contingent, so I figure they'll get back to base ... but the road is open for the flight of Parsleigh and RausenMarie after they've hit the depot ... at least as far as the main road over the Tannes Mountains, where another battle is taking place ...<br />:)Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-62102558728704544302010-06-07T23:51:00.000-07:002010-06-08T00:05:18.762-07:00Those Three Small Battles ....I'm looking at three brigade size encounters, as the Gallians and the Frankfurters catch the Resistance forces coming through the mountain defiles. More details as soon as health permits ....<br /><br />One collision will be Rudelheim militia and dragoons running into Highlander mercs and fusiliers and Hussars (Frankszonia under Broderick Woad) in open but rolling terrain. I think Murdock will be taking this one. This will be the western encounter.<br /><br />Two: will be veterans versus Guard .... the resistance will be running the Old Retainers (elite unit), estate jaegers, and another line regiment with a regt. of curiassiers against a battalion of Guard, two converged battalions of Grenadiers and a regt. of Cuirassiers ... which are under the direct command of the Hurtshog. I think Bill Protz will be taking this one, as involves the resistance trying to sneak out of the woods on the Tannes berg (exiting a mountain pass).<br /><br />Three: will be the Fisch Freicorps (2 battalions) and militia fusiliers with a brigade of dragoons and Marie's artillery under Parsleigh ... who will run into Gallian dragoons who will be swiftly reinforced by whomever is parked over the depot .... but the engagement will occur close enough that Marie's artillery or a squadron of dragoons will have an opportunity to try to fire the depot ....<br />Ideally, the Resistance forces will slightly outnumber their foes. If Frankszonia and Gallia win a scenario, the victorious units may try to interdict the retreat line of another Resistance unit ...<br /><br />I'm trying to get some painting in, as that can be done in my bed (for a long while I couldn't even lean forward to touch brush to palette). Anyway, I've got another squadron of 14 Hussars on preliminary basing (and found the missing three riders tonight); a third squadron of 17 Hussars ready to prime (all Revell Plastics); about 30 Minden Prussian grenadiers (which would be two Koenig Krieg battalions) and 12 Minden fusiliers (another K.K. battalion) ready for priming. <br />Unfortunately, my primer bottles seem to have been swept up in the general haul out of stuff from the living room! <br /><br />:)<br />ArthurFrankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-15849632948047624202010-05-29T07:22:00.000-07:002010-05-29T07:39:07.857-07:00Catch up Post, May 2010End of May 2010 catch up post.<br /><br />Due to life intervening (which has turned out better than expected at the moment, thanks be to God), I’ve been off the computer for weeks. Moreover, my figures and terrain materials are in temporary storage. The only figures I’ve got out for painting are the Revell Prussian Hussars ... and they’re giving my limited skills fits!! LOL<br /><br />This has left me with a whole series of planned scenarios which can’t be resolved until later in June at the earliest, so I’m looking for proxy battle volunteers who can field at least a good brigade of infantry and several squadrons of horse – all with artillery support for each side. <br />It would be nice if the officers, etc. of each army are given a sort of role play reaction to the events on the table .... as many know, there are short files on all of them down to battalion commanders! (Grin)<br /><br />Some months ago, I lost my favorite atlas (Wesserman’s Grosser Atlas zur Weltgeschicte). We lucked up on an affordable version of the ‘67 edition, and my beloved wife made that her anniversary gift to me. Perusing the various pages (which naturally tend to emphasize German concerns), I am again amused by the incredible plethora of mini-states in Germany at the time. Indeed, in one map of a section of Swabia, I think, I found two “countries” which were less than 4 square miles in territory! Of course, this enthused me even more over our imagi-nations and their travails. The idea of many, very small force scenarios increases my frustration over this period of enforced inactivity (wry grin).<br /><br />Anyway, it is necessary to update things as swiftly as possible.<br /><br />V. Mack and most of his party survive ... Beauphaup is wounded (shot from the side while fencing with another assassin) and two of his aides are killed. The assassins are hirelings who’ve been paid with Gallian coin ... but the contact information one carries connects to a known Stagonian smuggling ring. With the return of the Hurtshog, Princess Stuftliana is able to extend official hospitality to the Beerstein party. <br />(There will hopefully be a more extensive after action report later ... can't promise it, alas. Also, my notes are confused as to which of the Beerstein men is fevered from his wound ... I'd kind of like to spare SomeRussian Guyovitch, but he was the target after all ...).<br /><br />An envoy is dispatched to the Kingdoms of St. Maurice. We’ve come across some corrosive salt and pepper mixtures which damage zombies and cause them immediate distress when fired from shotguns .... also, bladders filled with oil of vitriol seem to show some promise ...<br /><br />—<br />The Sultan of Swat has acquired a new staff officer, Hauptman Heinrich der Alte. He has an endorsement from the Trucks and Turbines for his service with light infantry and cavalry.<br />—<br />An envoy is dispatched to Hesse Fedora requesting them to expel the Frankszonian Resistance and Cheezers from their territory. Hesse Fedora is gently reminded of traditional friendship with Frankszonia which the Hurtshog has maintained in spite of their currently being allied to Germania.<br />—<br />An envoy is dispatched to Hesse Homburg, requesting that they do not violate Frankszonian territory in their internecine dispute with Hesse Fedora.. Also, complaints are lodged with Gallia about Hesse Hamburg's arrogance and territorial violations (ironically, it seems that Hesse Homburg may be filing almost identical complaints, just with the names switched so as to appear innocent).<br />—<br />Unsubstantiated and malicious rumors report that Frankszonian officers are reconnoitering the intervening terrain between the two Hesse Hats. That such rumors are fallacious is obvious. After all, prior to the Gallia / Hesse Seewald war, Frankszonia was very actively asserting its influence in that area. The Tannes Mountains are embraced by Frankszonian territory along the Nidda River ....<br />----<br />Hans Muckiethaler, the financier involved in the Frankszonian Resistance, has offered to loan Hesse Seewald a treasure apparently of Hindu origin. He is acting as the agent, he says, of a consortium of four adventurers who'd been lucky in Agra. <br />—<br />Baron Bastille, the Gallian Intendent at Frankfurter, has recently found himself the target of the attentions of two Fraulein. One has a dragon lady widow mother (who has also hinted at her loneliness, unfulfilled desires, etc.), and the other is staying with a tipsy uncle and her foppish cousin.<br />---<br />Gen. Hottatrot is seeking some hoboists to play in his regimental band.Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-67224480568330519022010-05-12T07:40:00.000-07:002010-05-12T07:44:15.630-07:00celebrationsThings have been a little hectic here .... getting some work done on the house and enduring some more health problems, but thankfully, doing a little better today ...<br />the 20th anniversary of our marriage ... the one time I know I beat my beloved's dice roll!!<br />:)<br />ArthurFrankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-39439831746743462212010-04-14T19:38:00.000-07:002010-04-14T19:39:18.326-07:00A brouhahaBrouhaha.<br /><br /> Even as the landlord got his footing in the archway, dark shapes boiled out of several stalls. The Croat fired his musketoon and dropped one, but this drew a fusillade from the attackers’ pistols. The Croat was slammed against the arch and slid down with a groan. The dark figures continued their rush resisted by only the landlord. <br /> Now it was true that the landlord had had little military training, other than the standard required of all the local citizens, but the peaceful reputation of his inn rested largely on the fact that the landlord was a pieceful man, in that other’s picked up the pieces etc.... The assailants ran into a much more muscular wall than they’d counted on. A fist used to easily handling fifty pound hams can also usually lift someone off their feet if properly placed just on the jaw. The landlord managed to knock another into the muck before a clubbed pistol behind the ear also dropped him onto the pavement.<br /> By this time, however, the Prioress Hildegarrd had pulled two pistols from her robes and leapt into the gap. Her shots spun one assailant around and caused another to duck back. This left one lonely fellow to try to dagger the “nun” as he surged past. Unfortunately for the luckless man, he stumbled over the bodies in his way, and as Hildegarrd caught him, another Croat’s musketoon was discharged directly into his face.<br /> More cloaked figures charged out of the common room while everyone seemed to be focused<br />on the fight in the stable archway. Their pistols dropped another Croat and hit one of the “nuns” in the shoulder. While the little priest dove under the coach, three of the nuns fired back into the charge. This intimate discharge quickly piled three bodies onto the porch and momentarily stopped the charge. Suddenly, the “nuns” displayed broad bladed scimitars and with a wild ululation they rushed their foe. These men rapidly redeployed back into the common room and managed to bar the door just as the first extremely large nun crashed into it. <br /> Windows in the upper floor now slammed open, and men leaned out to fire into the courtyard. Another Croat was dropped and one of the horses began to plunge out of control. Two of the nuns quickly ran behind the coaches to cover. These new assailants, however, had overlooked the four men on top of the carriage whose shotguns abruptly blew the assailants back into their rooms.<br /> In one room, a young man looked at the his two bleeding companions and anxiously began to try to help them. In the other, however, the third man counted on the moment when the enemy would be reloading and leaned out the window to take aim. His folly was completely corrected by four pistols fired from less than ten yards away ... the coachmen had plenty of back up firepower! <br /> There was now a wild volley from the windows of the common room, and the nuns on the porch quickly took cover. The landlord, however, by now had risen from his feet, and the assailants in the stables had fled to their horses. “This way!” he shouted to “Sister” Hildegarrd and the now dismounted Croat. Bursting through a side door into the kitchen, he grabbed utensils from the kitchen table and dashed into the common room, taking the band clustered around the windows from behind! <br /> The landlord’s furious scream as he charged was punctuated by the discharge of Hildgarrd’s pistol and the Croat’s musketoon. The confused assassins tumbled over each other as they tried to face this new assault. Which held one hapless man steady in front of the landlord’s flung cleaver. <br /> The assassins discharged their own weapons into the smoke and drew their swords. They began to try to spread out, kicking tables out of their way. At this moment, an explosion ripped apart the door to the courtyard! As the “nuns” pile screaming into the room, a few men manage to escape, but most throw down their swords and yield. <br /> As the landlord and his new guests search about the inn, they find two dead assailants and one unconscious in the stable yard; one dead and one injured upstairs; two dead and one injured on the porch; and four injured and three healthy captives in the common room. Alas, two of the Croats and on of the nuns were also dead. Two other Croats, including the veteran leader, were injured and two of the “nuns” were also bleeding. The little priest proved to be skilled surgeon and the wounded would probably all survive. <br /> Nothing could be gained from the captives, unfortunately, other than “the Holy Office” had dispatched them to intercept “the Apostate” who was believed to be traveling disguised as a Croat to some anti-Papist plot in the Rhineland. The Croats were as confused as the landlord, and the “nuns” who were obviously Turkish eunuchs, weren’t conversant with enough German to illuminate anything. The four coachmen just demanded more beer and roasted pork. <br /> Bernard was found sporting a bruised bump on his head and bundled into one of the stalls with a pregnant mare. The priest cautioned the landlord that Bernard’s seemingly minor injury could be more dangerous. “One cannot cauterize the brain,” he admonished the landlord. <br /> “Funny,” the landlord responded, “all these years I thought somebody had already cauterized his brain.”Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-41113966248175969652010-04-11T15:17:00.000-07:002010-04-11T15:19:47.510-07:00Another family emerges:Inspired by the presence of the Iznplotz regiments in Germania (see Alte Fritz' blog), I'm generating another military dynasty to help the poor Hurtshog.<br /><br />Hauptman Izzent Plotzt, son of, <br />Col. Ishent Plotzt , son of,<br />Brig. Shnot Plotzted, (rummored to be a son of a Bysshe from England) ...Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-55678310668648067832010-04-11T15:01:00.000-07:002010-04-11T15:12:50.944-07:00It was very wet night ...As v. Mack hastened down the stairs, he heard a noise and bustle from the ground floor. Quickly taking a post at a landing, he glared down at the figures milling around in the foyer. To his surprise, he recognized the long absent Comte l' Beauphaup. However, Mack's professional eyes noticed that instead of the usual cluster of fancily dressed youth, the accompanying men had the hardened look of seasoned dragoons. <br />Mack quickly slid down the hall to the doors of his employers and gave the special knock. <br />"Wonderful!" the Duches v. Kern declared as he stepped in. "Have you noticed that Frankszonia has FINALLY decided to officially recognize our presence?"<br />"Perhaps," Mack responded coolly, "they decided they'd need to while we were still present."<br />"Oh, I wasn't planning on leaving without SOME sort of meeting," The Duchess replied icily.<br />"It's not your plans, but those of Louis and Hugh d'Vile I'm worried about," Mack responded.<br />Somerussian Guyovitch lurched to his feet. "Where?"<br />"Close, and with a team for backup." <br />"They mean to get all of us!" the Duchess gasped. <br />Mack's trained ears noticed the tread of cavalry boots crossing the floor above them.Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-17671581651452958832010-04-05T18:47:00.000-07:002010-04-05T19:02:41.416-07:00Arrgh!!I'd started to game the situation at the inn ... using a fudged version from Two Hour Wargames black powder rules. However, the game suffered a major cat-astrophe. <br />On the plus side, he did NOT jump on the battle board, but carefully avoided it like the good cat he is.<br />On the disaster side, his big fluffy tail ... ...<br />I'll need to fudge up something to replace the floor plan and hopefully find the other figures ...<br /><br />Before I forget, however, initial moves reveal that the "nuns" are Turkish eunuchs ... armed with pistols and scimitars. The coach men are excellent shots, having pistols, rifles, and shotguns. The Croats are old soldiers ...<br /><br />The assassins are NOT mercenaries, but fanatics and volunteers and of enough income level to dash about the continent on wild escapades ... hence, though they outnumber the target, they are much less well co-ordinated. They are talented and eclectically armed. At the moment, three are down in the porch of the common room, while others fire through the shutters ...<br /><br />The rush from the stables has knocked down the old Croat and the innkeeper, but the struggle gave the "prioress" and "Sister Hermenigarde" time to engage. One of the other Croats is down and out (leaving three still up and mounted, though their muskets are now discharged). Two of the "nuns" are injured, and two have tried to take cover under or behind their coach. The coachmen have exchanged shots with attackers in upper windows ... the coachmen are all right so far, and the effect of their fire isn't known in the yard yet ...<br /><br />The innkeeper, though knocked down, is not out, and is about to go into berserkergang ....<br /><br />Of course, nobody has actually SEEN the Apostate yet ....Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611326226570378644.post-63347778550946609352010-04-04T15:39:00.000-07:002010-04-04T15:54:59.398-07:00Meanwhile, back in Frankfurter ....Von Mack, sitting near a window in a quiet cafe near the temporary residence of his nobles, observes a large man striding through the dark puddles of the wet night. That can only be Moosehunter, he thinks when the figure suddenly stops in a bit of shadow and seems to look directly at his window. Then, with a quick sideways jerk of the head down the street, the large man strides into the rain. <br />v. Mack quickly rises and tosses a coin to the barman, grabs his coat, and hurries out into the street. Moosehunter has vanished, as V. Mack expected, but a quick whisper from a sodden, late night vendor asks, "Some goat cheese, meine Herr? It's quite fresh, and there's more to be had at the Sign of the Broken Flute." <br />"Goat cheese?" v. Mack asks, then comments, quietly, "this looks more like some Muenster." <br />"There be plenty of monsters on the street tonight," the vendor responds. Then he quickly crosses the street, turns a corner, and vanishes. <br />V. Mack looks at the cheese in his hand, and notices the paper in which it is wrapped. He hurries back to his rooms and presses the paper against the chimney of his lamp to read "3 + karl v". Rapidly snatching up a case from his luggage, v. Mack hurtles out of his room towards the quarters of the V. Kerns.Frankfurterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18155625152395130957noreply@blogger.com0