Somewhere in the Hessian scramble of states, a great army sits muffled against the winter cold. They are depressed as they seem to have stumbled on the threshold of a complete victory. Hesse-Seewald and Germania with British aid have stopped their advance. The cold, iron logic of the situation requires them to fall back on their ample depot near Frankfurter. Around their fitfully smoking campfires, the men are glad that the ground is firming up from the last winter storm. Marching in frozen mush is horribly uncomfortable, and the damage to their kit has all the sergeants practically incoherent. In their iced tents, they listen to the clatter and rumble of the endless wagon traffic bringing hay for the horses and taking the latest casualties ... most with frostbitten toes through the hills.
A low growl of noise seems unending from the thousands of men and their various implements and animals. Through this constant muted cacophony the sentries’ challenges and the clatter of couriers hooves occasionally places a stronger note in the mix. Tonight, however, some of the men at the fires stand up to watch, and some of the men raise their heads from whatever half frozen knapsack serves as their pillow. There is a rush of couriers, a cavalry horn sounds assemble, and staff officers and Brigadiers are seen hurrying about.
In his commandeered manor, General Chevert is irritably listening to an agitated Intendant Bastille. “This couldn’t have waited until the morning?” the General grumbles peevishly.
“Our own agents confirm the broad outlines of their warning,” Bastille asserts. “There could five or six thousand already mustered and more coming. It would be big enough to lob a lot of bombs into the depot, even if we keep them well out the supplies.”
“Really,” General Chevert replies, “shopkeepers, apprentices, farmhands, and the odd old noble who thinks himself a general!” He snorts disdainfully, “these seem hardly a threat.”
“You spend your summers on campaign, mon General,” one of Bastille’s aides intervenes. “These Frankszonians are weird. They pride themselves on their status as a Free State and as the traditional locale for crowning the Emperor. Their summer cook outs are accompanied by competitions in drill, manual of arms, and even marksmanship.”
“And I suspect that a lot of these wounded and prisoners going into Frankfurt are small units of Germanians or British, heavy on sergeants to provide the nerves for the force,” Bastille continues.
“Wounded and Prisoners to Frankfurter?” The General finally shows alarm. “They were supposed to concentrate on Mainz!”
“And, my agent pointed out another concern, General,” Bastille grabbed his advantage. “Many of the reliable and experienced Frankszonian units are involved in this affair down in Alesgarden. The people of Frankszonia are mostly Protestant and support the Elector against the Emperor. There is a good chance that some of the regiments in Frankfurter will turn coat. If they do, our foes could have twenty thousand men, many veteran regiments within yards of the Depot before any response could be made.”
“And Stagonia?” Chevert required.
“They definitely were involved in both the zombie affairs and in this recent mutiny which drew reliable forces out of town through the Stadt Wald ... and possibly in getting them mixed in with this Alesgarden Affair with the Reich Duchy of Beerstein.”
All of the aides now looked worried. Stagonia had the forces and the position to endanger all communications with Vienna and also would be a cancer in any defense of Bohemia. Since Aftschaftenberg was also in turmoil, the entire Gallian position could be fractured.
“What have you done already?” The General asked Bastille. Bastille was an excellent staff officer, and he had not shirked the firing line when his turn had come. The General was sure that the Baron had used his position to start some response already.
“I’ve sent the Marquis Hottatrot on with an escort of Hussars and Dragoons under Col. Mirage,” Bastille began, and defended his impertinence (which had already irritated the General), “ .... his men move fastest and the risk of a preplanned ambush could be best met his alert gifts for this sort of thing.”
“What’s done is done. What else?”
“The rest of the Frankszonian Nobles will be sent on back tomorrow with a flying wing of cavalry, light guns, and some freikorps.”
“I assume that you will accompany them, my Lord,” Chevert nodded.
“I suspect that the Hurtshog would cheerfully reinforce our depot guards with his own Lieb Garde and Cuirassiers in my absence, “ the Intendant acknowledged wryly. “It would be more efficient to steal our depot in one coup rather than the blood sucking they’ve used so far.”
“I am sure that his pet fop will write glowing reports of his sacrifice, energy, and dedication in service to our King and his Empress,” Chevert reflected. “I wonder what his real goal is?”
“Stagonia,” Bastille asserted.
Chevert looked at him for a moment and then back to the map table. “No, my lord Intendant,” he mused. “Stagonia is too far, too strong, and he knows we’d stop it until Stagonia stops sending us men, money, and supplies. Also, this whole thing stinks of that cabal’s little schemes. They’re trying to flush somebody out.”
There was a moment’s pause while everyone considered the irritations of the grating effect of the petty games of petty German princelings. One of the Intendant’s aides wondered aloud, “and where is Roquefort now?”
.....
Showing posts with label Roquefort. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Roquefort. Show all posts
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
A Morning's Entertainment
Imagine Johannes surprise when Erwin says in response to his question, "I brought four of my 'fancy' pistols. Would you care for a pair? And when did you ever know me to have an unloaded one about?!" Baddmann gave an approving grunt as the two double barreled pistols disappeared under his cloak.
Mack continued, "I learned this trick when I was in Canada. Buck and ball with a large charge of powder is the key. Makes a hell of a loud noise, you can hit almost everyone in a small room with at least a pellet or two, the cloud of smoke comes in handy if you have to retreat, and by the third shot most crowds have found better places to be, leaving one shot in reserve. Tonight, my friend, I am loaded for bear. Although I'll settle for stag!"
“More like a filthy old goat, I’m afraid,” Johannes responded. “We suspect that Roquefort and M’Lady are involved too.”
“No wonder every time I look around, I see an alert soldier of some type!” Erwin responded. “Looks like you’re going to try to swat flies with cannon balls!”
“That’s the general idea,” Johannes responded. “Hesse Cassel armies are too close to overlook the chance that either the guilds or the Resistance will make a serious effort ... and with all these agents in town, it’s likely that some of them are suggesting it.”
Even though, Johannes sounded like he was just grousing, v.Mack’s watchfulness had been suddenly amplified by what he’d heard. His eyes were moving from one deep shadow in the night bound street when he chanced on a face moving through a light, “Rottenbrat!” he hissed to Baddmann and quickly gestured at an otherwise nondescript laborer still putting up bunting.
In moments, their two horses were at the foot of the man’s ladder and four pistols were held close to some very sensitive areas. “Okay, Hans,” Baddmann growled, “come down very slowly and lean on the wall.
“Private!” he gestured to a nearby soldier, “call for the sergeant of the guard.”
As the soldiers clustered around him and thoroughly searched him, Hans Rottenbrat protested his innocence and productivity. V. Mack had already climbed the ladder for himself, however, and found a smelly, black rag in the folds of the bunting lying under a glass ball.
“So, Stagonia plans on Frankszonia having a hot time tomorrow?” he challenges the now silent and surly agent.
“Ver*%&#!!” Baddmann exclaims. “We’ve got miles of very expensive and brightly died cloth hanging on every house! It will all have to be checked tonight!”
“No need,” Rottenbrat asserts, “I just had time to put up one.”
After the prisoner is removed and handed over to the Gallians for deposit in the Bastille, Johannes and v. Mack hasten to the palace to spread the alarm. As. V. Mack delivers the letter to Andrew, Herr Kunegunde orders the town criers out while the tour party is still happily entertained inside the palace grounds. Several more incendiary devices are found in a couple of hours, and the city returns to its uneasy slumber.
___
In spite of Frankfurter’s fears, the night passed peacefully. The gathering at the palace, aided by the glittering presence of Princess Alisonia, Lady Pettygree, and Lady Masquerade is a social triumph. Princess Stuftliana choose the auspicious moment to make her reentry into the social whirl, looking exotically lovely in a simple gown from Frau Ewewarp. In recognition of the exhaustion of the day’s travel, the party breaks up at midnight.
In the hazy morning, Duchess Lynda and her ladies are awakened by sweet flute music being played by a quartet in the courtyard of the Beerstein embassy. After a breakfast featuring a selection of Frankszonia’s sausages, the ladies are especially delighted by the tour of the porcelain industry. Excellent Delft ware and brightly painted ceramics are displayed for their pleasure. They each get to select a set of some design that they personally find pleasing. After a short coffee with the other high level guests of the Duchy, they get a brief tour of the sausage factory. L’Comte Beauphaup apologizes for the shortness of the tour, but the factory in full production is hot, smelly, and very noisy.
To compensate for the chaotic racket of the sausage factory, the party is led to view the Frankfurter cathedral and the materials used in the coronation and annointing of the Holy Roman Emperor. While they tour the building, choirs take turns singing various hymns and historic songs from the choir stalls.
As they wander through the dusky corners of the Gothic edifice, a gentleman passes Lady Pettygree and whispers, “God save King Charles. Watch the wine.” Before she or Cherish can respond, the man is lost in the shadows. They step behind a pillar to discuss the incident with Catherine when an old woman brushes by who says, “Why do you tempt fate? Germania, though it gives you admirers also gives you deadly greetings. Look high and low!” Then, as a puff of incense causes the ladies to blink and sneeze, the old woman also is gone from sight.
Now thoroughly alarmed, the ladies seek out Col. Enigma who has so often protected them in the past. The whole party, however, is led out to the square, where in one corner a luncheon pavilion has been erected. There, brass bands of school children serenade them, one group presenting “The Tuba Sonnata”. The luncheon is lively ... exquistely grilled fish, bratwurst, and other items blend with the best beverages, laughter and chatter as the ladies and lords flirt and the children from the bands march by, red faced with pride.
Suddenly, the happy noise is shattered by the loud staccato of musket fire! As bullets smash into the crystal and china on the tables by Pettygree and Duke Wilhelm, the ever present guards spot the smoke from the roof of the Cathedral. Gallian and Frankszonian troops return fire, though the professional ear of the officers in the party notice that some of the Frankszonian “Guards” are equipped with rifles. Other soldiers dash into the building to try to catch these dastardly assasins.
The party members begin to scatter as the ladies scream and the men curse, but Col. Enigma catches a glimpse of an old lady beckoning by the Rectory. With loud commands he manages to herd the notables into the house and to get soldiers stationed at some of the windows. Ritter von Meltzer and Ambassador Sgnori Vittorio Moretti demand why they’ve been brought into this building with its large windows when the already garrisoned inn on the square had been closer. Even as the normally imperturbable colonel hunts for a good excuse, a loud, bright explosion tears out of the inn’s basement.
“I knew it!” Enigma exclaims and dashes off to find Lady Pettygree.
For about an half hour, the square is filled with competing troops ... cavalrymen from the Grand Tour, Frankszonian guards, and Gallian Grenadiers. As the confusion and furor die down, and as the smoke from the badly damaged inn settles, the Archbishop reports that the assassins seem to have escaped! “There are just too many hidden passages and acloves in the cathedral,” he explains. “Given the all the confusion outside, if the evil men had the foresight to dress in uniforms, they probably had an easy time making their withdrawal. We did, at least, find the three weapons they were using.”
Mack continued, "I learned this trick when I was in Canada. Buck and ball with a large charge of powder is the key. Makes a hell of a loud noise, you can hit almost everyone in a small room with at least a pellet or two, the cloud of smoke comes in handy if you have to retreat, and by the third shot most crowds have found better places to be, leaving one shot in reserve. Tonight, my friend, I am loaded for bear. Although I'll settle for stag!"
“More like a filthy old goat, I’m afraid,” Johannes responded. “We suspect that Roquefort and M’Lady are involved too.”
“No wonder every time I look around, I see an alert soldier of some type!” Erwin responded. “Looks like you’re going to try to swat flies with cannon balls!”
“That’s the general idea,” Johannes responded. “Hesse Cassel armies are too close to overlook the chance that either the guilds or the Resistance will make a serious effort ... and with all these agents in town, it’s likely that some of them are suggesting it.”
Even though, Johannes sounded like he was just grousing, v.Mack’s watchfulness had been suddenly amplified by what he’d heard. His eyes were moving from one deep shadow in the night bound street when he chanced on a face moving through a light, “Rottenbrat!” he hissed to Baddmann and quickly gestured at an otherwise nondescript laborer still putting up bunting.
In moments, their two horses were at the foot of the man’s ladder and four pistols were held close to some very sensitive areas. “Okay, Hans,” Baddmann growled, “come down very slowly and lean on the wall.
“Private!” he gestured to a nearby soldier, “call for the sergeant of the guard.”
As the soldiers clustered around him and thoroughly searched him, Hans Rottenbrat protested his innocence and productivity. V. Mack had already climbed the ladder for himself, however, and found a smelly, black rag in the folds of the bunting lying under a glass ball.
“So, Stagonia plans on Frankszonia having a hot time tomorrow?” he challenges the now silent and surly agent.
“Ver*%&#!!” Baddmann exclaims. “We’ve got miles of very expensive and brightly died cloth hanging on every house! It will all have to be checked tonight!”
“No need,” Rottenbrat asserts, “I just had time to put up one.”
After the prisoner is removed and handed over to the Gallians for deposit in the Bastille, Johannes and v. Mack hasten to the palace to spread the alarm. As. V. Mack delivers the letter to Andrew, Herr Kunegunde orders the town criers out while the tour party is still happily entertained inside the palace grounds. Several more incendiary devices are found in a couple of hours, and the city returns to its uneasy slumber.
___
In spite of Frankfurter’s fears, the night passed peacefully. The gathering at the palace, aided by the glittering presence of Princess Alisonia, Lady Pettygree, and Lady Masquerade is a social triumph. Princess Stuftliana choose the auspicious moment to make her reentry into the social whirl, looking exotically lovely in a simple gown from Frau Ewewarp. In recognition of the exhaustion of the day’s travel, the party breaks up at midnight.
In the hazy morning, Duchess Lynda and her ladies are awakened by sweet flute music being played by a quartet in the courtyard of the Beerstein embassy. After a breakfast featuring a selection of Frankszonia’s sausages, the ladies are especially delighted by the tour of the porcelain industry. Excellent Delft ware and brightly painted ceramics are displayed for their pleasure. They each get to select a set of some design that they personally find pleasing. After a short coffee with the other high level guests of the Duchy, they get a brief tour of the sausage factory. L’Comte Beauphaup apologizes for the shortness of the tour, but the factory in full production is hot, smelly, and very noisy.
To compensate for the chaotic racket of the sausage factory, the party is led to view the Frankfurter cathedral and the materials used in the coronation and annointing of the Holy Roman Emperor. While they tour the building, choirs take turns singing various hymns and historic songs from the choir stalls.
As they wander through the dusky corners of the Gothic edifice, a gentleman passes Lady Pettygree and whispers, “God save King Charles. Watch the wine.” Before she or Cherish can respond, the man is lost in the shadows. They step behind a pillar to discuss the incident with Catherine when an old woman brushes by who says, “Why do you tempt fate? Germania, though it gives you admirers also gives you deadly greetings. Look high and low!” Then, as a puff of incense causes the ladies to blink and sneeze, the old woman also is gone from sight.
Now thoroughly alarmed, the ladies seek out Col. Enigma who has so often protected them in the past. The whole party, however, is led out to the square, where in one corner a luncheon pavilion has been erected. There, brass bands of school children serenade them, one group presenting “The Tuba Sonnata”. The luncheon is lively ... exquistely grilled fish, bratwurst, and other items blend with the best beverages, laughter and chatter as the ladies and lords flirt and the children from the bands march by, red faced with pride.
Suddenly, the happy noise is shattered by the loud staccato of musket fire! As bullets smash into the crystal and china on the tables by Pettygree and Duke Wilhelm, the ever present guards spot the smoke from the roof of the Cathedral. Gallian and Frankszonian troops return fire, though the professional ear of the officers in the party notice that some of the Frankszonian “Guards” are equipped with rifles. Other soldiers dash into the building to try to catch these dastardly assasins.
The party members begin to scatter as the ladies scream and the men curse, but Col. Enigma catches a glimpse of an old lady beckoning by the Rectory. With loud commands he manages to herd the notables into the house and to get soldiers stationed at some of the windows. Ritter von Meltzer and Ambassador Sgnori Vittorio Moretti demand why they’ve been brought into this building with its large windows when the already garrisoned inn on the square had been closer. Even as the normally imperturbable colonel hunts for a good excuse, a loud, bright explosion tears out of the inn’s basement.
“I knew it!” Enigma exclaims and dashes off to find Lady Pettygree.
For about an half hour, the square is filled with competing troops ... cavalrymen from the Grand Tour, Frankszonian guards, and Gallian Grenadiers. As the confusion and furor die down, and as the smoke from the badly damaged inn settles, the Archbishop reports that the assassins seem to have escaped! “There are just too many hidden passages and acloves in the cathedral,” he explains. “Given the all the confusion outside, if the evil men had the foresight to dress in uniforms, they probably had an easy time making their withdrawal. We did, at least, find the three weapons they were using.”
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
A Very Dry Vintage
A Very Dry Vintage
It was a dark and very quiet night (okay, I couldn’t resist). With no moon, the stars over Frankfurter sprinkled back from the wavelets on the Main. Along the unloading piers for the Gallian depot, the sentry marches tiredly on. Quietly, after the sentry has passed, two figures suddenly appear on one of the barges and step quickly across to the pier to one of the ramshackle sheds thrown up by the Gallian suppliers. The smaller fiddles with the door for a second, steps through and then back out and nods to the larger. The large man, who even in this dim light looks like an old copper statue, ducks under the lintel and a moment later steps back out carrying a barrel. The two step back onto the barge and disappear. The whole action taking less than a few seconds.
In the dark, sentries exchange the sign and countersign, and the local private wearily plods back the wier to the other end of his beat. As he passes, a strange, long boat with both ends curved up and together slips silently out into the river. The two passengers steadily and stealthily dip their paddles into the water and cross over towards Saxenhousen.
“That was quick, Moose Hunter,” the short man in the front of the canoe whispered. “Are you sure you got one?”
“Third one I picked up, Johannes,” Moose Hunter replied. “It’s full, but there’s no liquid in it.”
They quietly finish their voayage and get pulled through the muck on the south shore by a couple of soldiers. The barrel is lifted onto a small cart, and the soldiers led by a young Fahenjunker and an Hauptman hurry through the dark streets followed by Johannes and Moose Hunter. They stop at what appears to be a run down boarding house and carry the barrel inside. The soldiers step outside again and march away except for the two officers who move slowly towards a darkened inn.
“So! Our little Gallian lap dog is stealing from his master again!” the Fahenjunker cheerfully commented.
“Hush!” the Hauptman answered quickly. Then he looked carefully around and lowered his voice. “It’s time you started to pay attention to things that a nobleman should notice. And it’s time you learned to keep your mouth shut too, now that Kunegunde has Bastille’s little house to take the blame for his actions.”
“I’m sorry, Father,” the youngster apologized. “What is it that you want me to notice?”
“Frankszonia has fought four wars with other Gallian allies ....”
“And the Hurtshog has carefully held back the best troops at the last moment to ensure that they win!”
“... But under the cover of those little squabbles, the Hurtshog has eliminated the pockets of territory cutting up out Stadtholdings and more than doubled our territory and resources.”
“So he’s a good little Hurtshog who is nicely improving his claim,” the youngster snorted.
“Wake up, Son! The Hurtshog and his councilors are quite serious about Deutschland vor Deutsche Volk. They’ve got this impossible dream of some sort of confederation of little states that can keep the big boys from tearing up our towns for their playground.”
“Isn’t that what the Wieners and their Reich are supposed to be doing?”
“Ja, and you can see for yourself how wonderfully well THAT is working.”
“So what? If our tiny army sneezes, Bastille and Broglie will impress whoever is unlucky enough to survive “
”If Germania and Hesse Seewald win another big one nearby, where will all those Gallian troops be? With the Resistance fighters who always seem to get away, the supposed deserters under Pepperoni and Braunsweiger, and few other friends like Hesse Fedora, I suspect that the Hurtshog will have enough to hold Frankfurter until relieved.”
“So we’re going to double cross the frogs?”
“Only if we have to. We are quite aware that neither Germania nor Hesse Seewald are really all that interested in having a lot of little autonomous duchies to deal with. Now hush. Not a word of this even to Mother or you sister and especially not to Fraulein Busch!” At this point, they open a dark door from which light and laughter spilled.
Back at the rooming house, two nobles carry lamps into the dark sitting room. They are accompanied by a scholar. One of them reveals a prybar and starts to open the barrel.
“Careful, Your Highness!” Johannes urges.
“Somebody has to, and too many have to be hurt for me these days,” the stout man answered.
As the lid rises, a dark powder is revealed. All turn to the scholar who comes forward, lifts a small pinch out and carries it to a lamp where he studies it with a magnifying glass.
“Well, Rabbi?” the other nobleman demands.
“You were right, General,” the scholar answers. “It’s not gunpowder. This looks more like the flash powder they put into fireworks to make the loud noises. Frankly, it could dangerous if somebody charged his piece with a normal measure.”
“Are you positive, Badmann, that the Gallians don’t know about this yet?” the Hurtshog asked.
“I’m not sure,” Badmann responded. “This barrel is marked the same as that spoiled juice that Bastille and all the Gallian peers drink.”
“Then there should barrels like this in the private quarters of almost every Gallian notable around here,” Moose Hunter grunted.
“Do we tell them?” the general asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” the Hurtshog mused. “We do brief our cleaning ladies and so forth right away ... let’s see if we can get this stuff before it goes off. This could be M’Lady’s or Stagonia’s handiwork, but Roquefort has his own nefarious agenda, and we’ve put a monkey wrench in it. He may be looking for some sudden job opportunities for his own agents.”
There was a moment’s silence, and the Hurtshog turned to the scholar. “I’m a bit thin right now, Rabbi,” he said, “but I think that boatman friend of yours and his family ought to spend the next Passover in Jerusalem on a small stipend. Otherwise, let’s get this to a more useful spot. Moose Hunter, Lady Pettygree is nearby. That means M’Lady is too. Hunt her and see if any threads come loose. Guten Nacht!”
The noblemen both walk quickly out of the room and disappear down the hall towards the back of the house.
It was a dark and very quiet night (okay, I couldn’t resist). With no moon, the stars over Frankfurter sprinkled back from the wavelets on the Main. Along the unloading piers for the Gallian depot, the sentry marches tiredly on. Quietly, after the sentry has passed, two figures suddenly appear on one of the barges and step quickly across to the pier to one of the ramshackle sheds thrown up by the Gallian suppliers. The smaller fiddles with the door for a second, steps through and then back out and nods to the larger. The large man, who even in this dim light looks like an old copper statue, ducks under the lintel and a moment later steps back out carrying a barrel. The two step back onto the barge and disappear. The whole action taking less than a few seconds.
In the dark, sentries exchange the sign and countersign, and the local private wearily plods back the wier to the other end of his beat. As he passes, a strange, long boat with both ends curved up and together slips silently out into the river. The two passengers steadily and stealthily dip their paddles into the water and cross over towards Saxenhousen.
“That was quick, Moose Hunter,” the short man in the front of the canoe whispered. “Are you sure you got one?”
“Third one I picked up, Johannes,” Moose Hunter replied. “It’s full, but there’s no liquid in it.”
They quietly finish their voayage and get pulled through the muck on the south shore by a couple of soldiers. The barrel is lifted onto a small cart, and the soldiers led by a young Fahenjunker and an Hauptman hurry through the dark streets followed by Johannes and Moose Hunter. They stop at what appears to be a run down boarding house and carry the barrel inside. The soldiers step outside again and march away except for the two officers who move slowly towards a darkened inn.
“So! Our little Gallian lap dog is stealing from his master again!” the Fahenjunker cheerfully commented.
“Hush!” the Hauptman answered quickly. Then he looked carefully around and lowered his voice. “It’s time you started to pay attention to things that a nobleman should notice. And it’s time you learned to keep your mouth shut too, now that Kunegunde has Bastille’s little house to take the blame for his actions.”
“I’m sorry, Father,” the youngster apologized. “What is it that you want me to notice?”
“Frankszonia has fought four wars with other Gallian allies ....”
“And the Hurtshog has carefully held back the best troops at the last moment to ensure that they win!”
“... But under the cover of those little squabbles, the Hurtshog has eliminated the pockets of territory cutting up out Stadtholdings and more than doubled our territory and resources.”
“So he’s a good little Hurtshog who is nicely improving his claim,” the youngster snorted.
“Wake up, Son! The Hurtshog and his councilors are quite serious about Deutschland vor Deutsche Volk. They’ve got this impossible dream of some sort of confederation of little states that can keep the big boys from tearing up our towns for their playground.”
“Isn’t that what the Wieners and their Reich are supposed to be doing?”
“Ja, and you can see for yourself how wonderfully well THAT is working.”
“So what? If our tiny army sneezes, Bastille and Broglie will impress whoever is unlucky enough to survive “
”If Germania and Hesse Seewald win another big one nearby, where will all those Gallian troops be? With the Resistance fighters who always seem to get away, the supposed deserters under Pepperoni and Braunsweiger, and few other friends like Hesse Fedora, I suspect that the Hurtshog will have enough to hold Frankfurter until relieved.”
“So we’re going to double cross the frogs?”
“Only if we have to. We are quite aware that neither Germania nor Hesse Seewald are really all that interested in having a lot of little autonomous duchies to deal with. Now hush. Not a word of this even to Mother or you sister and especially not to Fraulein Busch!” At this point, they open a dark door from which light and laughter spilled.
Back at the rooming house, two nobles carry lamps into the dark sitting room. They are accompanied by a scholar. One of them reveals a prybar and starts to open the barrel.
“Careful, Your Highness!” Johannes urges.
“Somebody has to, and too many have to be hurt for me these days,” the stout man answered.
As the lid rises, a dark powder is revealed. All turn to the scholar who comes forward, lifts a small pinch out and carries it to a lamp where he studies it with a magnifying glass.
“Well, Rabbi?” the other nobleman demands.
“You were right, General,” the scholar answers. “It’s not gunpowder. This looks more like the flash powder they put into fireworks to make the loud noises. Frankly, it could dangerous if somebody charged his piece with a normal measure.”
“Are you positive, Badmann, that the Gallians don’t know about this yet?” the Hurtshog asked.
“I’m not sure,” Badmann responded. “This barrel is marked the same as that spoiled juice that Bastille and all the Gallian peers drink.”
“Then there should barrels like this in the private quarters of almost every Gallian notable around here,” Moose Hunter grunted.
“Do we tell them?” the general asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” the Hurtshog mused. “We do brief our cleaning ladies and so forth right away ... let’s see if we can get this stuff before it goes off. This could be M’Lady’s or Stagonia’s handiwork, but Roquefort has his own nefarious agenda, and we’ve put a monkey wrench in it. He may be looking for some sudden job opportunities for his own agents.”
There was a moment’s silence, and the Hurtshog turned to the scholar. “I’m a bit thin right now, Rabbi,” he said, “but I think that boatman friend of yours and his family ought to spend the next Passover in Jerusalem on a small stipend. Otherwise, let’s get this to a more useful spot. Moose Hunter, Lady Pettygree is nearby. That means M’Lady is too. Hunt her and see if any threads come loose. Guten Nacht!”
The noblemen both walk quickly out of the room and disappear down the hall towards the back of the house.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Fiendish Flags
Perhaps its time to post the flags for the Cheezey Faction.
First, the Cheezey flag, of course:
Then the flag for Limburger:
First, the Cheezey flag, of course:
Then the flag for Limburger:
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Murky Mists of Miscellaneous Malfeasance ...
Murky Mists of Miscellaneous Malfeasance ...
A couple of folks have said that they’ve lost track of the various alliances and plots and counter plots in Frankszonia ... but the situation has to be spicy so that the sausage keeps well and doesn’t get too greasy!
Anyway, the first and foremost consideration is the position of the Hurtshog Fahrtz and his court. Bluntly, they’re pro-Frankszonia. Since we’re occupied by the Gallians at the moment ... whose occupation force ranges from five to ten times the number of troops we can raise, we’re perforce Pro-Gallian. Just as in historical Frankfurt, the loyalty of Frankszonia to the Empress depends upon whom is speaking and the situation ....
However, since Frankszonia was originally established as a mini-Prussia copy cat, the story line factored in all those Old Germanian Connections once Bill and der Alte generously decided to admit my humorous side show long ago ... in the pre EvE blog days! So, after some hare raising coup attempts pestered the Gen. Chevert and later the poor Intendant. In addition to the aristocracy based anti-Gallian “resistance” (who are now trying to connect with other anti-Gallian forces such as Hesse-Seewald), one must also consider the republican tendencies of the Merchants Guilds. Even more than the poor Hurtshog, they’re interested in the main chance and the highest bidder.
Now in addition to these factions inside Frankszonia, my gaming had already created the “Cheezers” ... including Limburger, Muenster, etc. Their activities were co-ordinated by the rascally Marquis de Roquefort who seems to have access to some great treasury. At the moment, the Cheezers are definitely on the side of Hesse-Seewald. The original Frankfurter alliance, however, had included the Britischerwurst and Hungover forces. These left our alliance at the outbreak of the Gallian / Seewald war, though we retain friendly correspondence.
Similarly, Frankszonia in the purely small country world had held long friendships with Hesse-Fedora and some other groups which are very pro-Germanian, and equally deep antagonisms with Vile Stagonia and other pro-Gallian local potentates. (Hence the Offenbach and TippleBruder affairs).
So on the outside chance I ever can get to the big games (which this latest hospital episode has thrown into doubt), there’s a Frankszonian Ducal army which would fight stoutly (and has fought stoutly) on behalf of Gallia ... (unless it’s right beside some Vile Stagonian unit, in which case we’d probably concentrate on very cautious maintenance of our position).
There is also a very strong force of infantry and cavalry following several of the emigre officers in the Resistance who would cheerfully fight fanatically against the Gallian gall.... (including those lick spittle petty puppets of the Hurtshog’s court) ....
So, as you can see, it’s all really quite simple. Not at all like the religious currents flowing up and down the Main ....
:P
A
A couple of folks have said that they’ve lost track of the various alliances and plots and counter plots in Frankszonia ... but the situation has to be spicy so that the sausage keeps well and doesn’t get too greasy!
Anyway, the first and foremost consideration is the position of the Hurtshog Fahrtz and his court. Bluntly, they’re pro-Frankszonia. Since we’re occupied by the Gallians at the moment ... whose occupation force ranges from five to ten times the number of troops we can raise, we’re perforce Pro-Gallian. Just as in historical Frankfurt, the loyalty of Frankszonia to the Empress depends upon whom is speaking and the situation ....
However, since Frankszonia was originally established as a mini-Prussia copy cat, the story line factored in all those Old Germanian Connections once Bill and der Alte generously decided to admit my humorous side show long ago ... in the pre EvE blog days! So, after some hare raising coup attempts pestered the Gen. Chevert and later the poor Intendant. In addition to the aristocracy based anti-Gallian “resistance” (who are now trying to connect with other anti-Gallian forces such as Hesse-Seewald), one must also consider the republican tendencies of the Merchants Guilds. Even more than the poor Hurtshog, they’re interested in the main chance and the highest bidder.
Now in addition to these factions inside Frankszonia, my gaming had already created the “Cheezers” ... including Limburger, Muenster, etc. Their activities were co-ordinated by the rascally Marquis de Roquefort who seems to have access to some great treasury. At the moment, the Cheezers are definitely on the side of Hesse-Seewald. The original Frankfurter alliance, however, had included the Britischerwurst and Hungover forces. These left our alliance at the outbreak of the Gallian / Seewald war, though we retain friendly correspondence.
Similarly, Frankszonia in the purely small country world had held long friendships with Hesse-Fedora and some other groups which are very pro-Germanian, and equally deep antagonisms with Vile Stagonia and other pro-Gallian local potentates. (Hence the Offenbach and TippleBruder affairs).
So on the outside chance I ever can get to the big games (which this latest hospital episode has thrown into doubt), there’s a Frankszonian Ducal army which would fight stoutly (and has fought stoutly) on behalf of Gallia ... (unless it’s right beside some Vile Stagonian unit, in which case we’d probably concentrate on very cautious maintenance of our position).
There is also a very strong force of infantry and cavalry following several of the emigre officers in the Resistance who would cheerfully fight fanatically against the Gallian gall.... (including those lick spittle petty puppets of the Hurtshog’s court) ....
So, as you can see, it’s all really quite simple. Not at all like the religious currents flowing up and down the Main ....
:P
A
Monday, May 12, 2008
The Cheesy Faction: Some Real Munsters ...
The Cheesers:
C: Cheesy Generals
* Roquefort (2): a devious, haughty and ruthless French soldier of fortune. Comparatively
immune to the wiles of women (not completely, just comparatively). Acts abruptly and often
violently to forward his mysterious goals or to demonstrate his sense of superiority.
(Suspected of being in cahoots with “vile Stagonia”).
* Von Ignatz (1) a practical leader. Concerned over the welfare of his troops and civilians.
Usually unfazed by tactical surprises and reverses. Has engineer's attitude: "whatever works."
* Gonzales St. Expedite (1) a brilliant cavalry leader. Often used to direct irregulars. Known
for surprising, sudden, and slashing raids. Will often taunt the hostile general either before or
after his raids.
* Magnus Musculus (0) a proponent of the offensive / defense in which the foe is enticed to
attack and then ambushed with superior forces or fire power. Known for great persistence
and furious assaults. While considered quite a ladies man, there are only a few dubious
scandals attached to his record. Likes to make broad, sweeping maneuvers against a foe's
flank or wing. Also is quite theatric in temperament. Usually wears a cloak. Can often be
distracted or decoyed out of position by quixotic quest imagination ....
* Michael O'Mauss (0) very popular with his troops and clients. Known for a cheery
disposition which refuses to submit to reverses. Also considered incredibly lucky by his foes.
He is an incurable romantic, but this leads him to permit his girl friend to often be endangered
by hostile action. Unfortunately, he frequently drives his officers to distraction by focusing on
petty and / or inconsequential details.
* Thomas Katt (0) and
* Jerome v. Trippen (2) a famous team, Katt usually handles the slower, larger regular units
while V. Trippen directs the light troops and irregulars. Generally popular with their troops,
they seem to have a habit of playing practical jokes at very awkward moments which has
frequently gotten them into trouble.
* Kirkenmaus (Promoted strictly on merit, considered quite impoverished by other Obersts)
* Gruyre,
* Appenzeller, (0)
* and Emmenthaler. (0)
You can't get cheesier than they are. (says the The Duke of Plaza Toro <1>)
Cheeses:
** brigade Michael O'Mauss (0)
* Quatrie Brie 1 bat x 16 figs @ (5) (actually 4th Loraine, French)
1 bat x 12 figs @ (5)
(Whites, red sashes, blue turnbacks; black boots, black hats / white lace )
* Yellows 1 bat x 16 fogs @ (4) (Spanish??)
(Whites, yellow Sombreros)
** Die Kazekopfen Brigade> Thomas Katt (0) (Sepoy figures)
* 1st Kazekopf 1 bat x 8 figs @ (4/5)
Light grey coat brown pants grey Turban
* 2nd Kazekopf 1 bat x 8 figs @ (4/5)
Dark grey brown grey
* 3rd Kazekopf 1 bat x 8 figs @ (4/5)
Yellow coat brown pants grey turban
** Das Alte Kaze Brigade (sepoy figures)
* Gouda 1 bat x 12 figs @ (4/5)
Various various red turban
* Munster 1 bat x 12 figs @ (4/5)
Various various white turban
* Limburger 1 bat x 12 figs @ (4/5)
var. var. Green turban
C: Cheesy Generals
* Roquefort (2): a devious, haughty and ruthless French soldier of fortune. Comparatively
immune to the wiles of women (not completely, just comparatively). Acts abruptly and often
violently to forward his mysterious goals or to demonstrate his sense of superiority.
(Suspected of being in cahoots with “vile Stagonia”).
* Von Ignatz (1) a practical leader. Concerned over the welfare of his troops and civilians.
Usually unfazed by tactical surprises and reverses. Has engineer's attitude: "whatever works."
* Gonzales St. Expedite (1) a brilliant cavalry leader. Often used to direct irregulars. Known
for surprising, sudden, and slashing raids. Will often taunt the hostile general either before or
after his raids.
* Magnus Musculus (0) a proponent of the offensive / defense in which the foe is enticed to
attack and then ambushed with superior forces or fire power. Known for great persistence
and furious assaults. While considered quite a ladies man, there are only a few dubious
scandals attached to his record. Likes to make broad, sweeping maneuvers against a foe's
flank or wing. Also is quite theatric in temperament. Usually wears a cloak. Can often be
distracted or decoyed out of position by quixotic quest imagination ....
* Michael O'Mauss (0) very popular with his troops and clients. Known for a cheery
disposition which refuses to submit to reverses. Also considered incredibly lucky by his foes.
He is an incurable romantic, but this leads him to permit his girl friend to often be endangered
by hostile action. Unfortunately, he frequently drives his officers to distraction by focusing on
petty and / or inconsequential details.
* Thomas Katt (0) and
* Jerome v. Trippen (2) a famous team, Katt usually handles the slower, larger regular units
while V. Trippen directs the light troops and irregulars. Generally popular with their troops,
they seem to have a habit of playing practical jokes at very awkward moments which has
frequently gotten them into trouble.
* Kirkenmaus (Promoted strictly on merit, considered quite impoverished by other Obersts)
* Gruyre,
* Appenzeller, (0)
* and Emmenthaler. (0)
You can't get cheesier than they are. (says the The Duke of Plaza Toro <1>)
Cheeses:
** brigade Michael O'Mauss (0)
* Quatrie Brie 1 bat x 16 figs @ (5) (actually 4th Loraine, French)
1 bat x 12 figs @ (5)
(Whites, red sashes, blue turnbacks; black boots, black hats / white lace )
* Yellows 1 bat x 16 fogs @ (4) (Spanish??)
(Whites, yellow Sombreros)
** Die Kazekopfen Brigade> Thomas Katt (0) (Sepoy figures)
* 1st Kazekopf 1 bat x 8 figs @ (4/5)
Light grey coat brown pants grey Turban
* 2nd Kazekopf 1 bat x 8 figs @ (4/5)
Dark grey brown grey
* 3rd Kazekopf 1 bat x 8 figs @ (4/5)
Yellow coat brown pants grey turban
** Das Alte Kaze Brigade (sepoy figures)
* Gouda 1 bat x 12 figs @ (4/5)
Various various red turban
* Munster 1 bat x 12 figs @ (4/5)
Various various white turban
* Limburger 1 bat x 12 figs @ (4/5)
var. var. Green turban
Friday, August 10, 2007
A Vile Ambursh!
Last Month, the young Frankszonian colonel, Hielgekeine v. Brattman, had been dispatched with a convoy of Larger, Wine, and beer franks to one of our cousin countries .... (alas, I can't find the note which says which one).
This mission had begun prior to the exposure of the infamous profiteering with adulterated products by Dilbert. Messengers had spurred after the Oberst Hielgekeine not only to warn him about the potential hazards ground into his wagons, but also to prevent his subversion by Cut - me - own - Throat Dilbert, who is known to be a very effective salesman.
Somewhere in the hill country of Northwestern Bohemia, these messengers have discovered wounded teamsters from the wagons and some scattered Hussars. They report being ambushed by either Germanian Bosniaks or Imperial Croats or some similar group of Balkan Bandits.
The young Oberst had rashly ridden into a clump of the foe and been overwhelmed. It is thought that he has also suffered a head wound, but since he was removed, supposedly to be held for ransom, the extent and nature of his injuries is unknown. Further, since there has been no ransom note received, the Frankszonian court is even more concerned that this is further result of either vile Stagonian plots or further sabotage by the Cheese Burger faction.
A reward of a fine charcoal brazier and grill with a good supply of certified, high quality brats is promised for information and / or assistance in the rescue of Hielgekeine alive!
Count l'Beauphaup
on behalf of the Hurtshog Fahrtz v. Frankszonia
This mission had begun prior to the exposure of the infamous profiteering with adulterated products by Dilbert. Messengers had spurred after the Oberst Hielgekeine not only to warn him about the potential hazards ground into his wagons, but also to prevent his subversion by Cut - me - own - Throat Dilbert, who is known to be a very effective salesman.
Somewhere in the hill country of Northwestern Bohemia, these messengers have discovered wounded teamsters from the wagons and some scattered Hussars. They report being ambushed by either Germanian Bosniaks or Imperial Croats or some similar group of Balkan Bandits.
The young Oberst had rashly ridden into a clump of the foe and been overwhelmed. It is thought that he has also suffered a head wound, but since he was removed, supposedly to be held for ransom, the extent and nature of his injuries is unknown. Further, since there has been no ransom note received, the Frankszonian court is even more concerned that this is further result of either vile Stagonian plots or further sabotage by the Cheese Burger faction.
A reward of a fine charcoal brazier and grill with a good supply of certified, high quality brats is promised for information and / or assistance in the rescue of Hielgekeine alive!
Count l'Beauphaup
on behalf of the Hurtshog Fahrtz v. Frankszonia
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