Ya-hooo! Well... the Markgraaf may be heading off to parts unknown, but recruitment continues on the Home Front. Today, two boxes worth of Zvezda's "Black Hussars" arrived from The Michigan Toy Soldier and Figure Company. They are outstanding! No flash, excellent poses, and two boxes (38 figures) enables you to eventually field one Grant sized unit of snazzy looking Light Cavalry, with some left over for any Frei-Hussaren squadrons that you may have visions of dancing in your head.
Check out "The Wars of Louis Quatorze" entry for 22 May, 2010. Bill shows the front and back of the box. The Pilfering Hussars of Raubenstadt will soon take the field, and the other nine I'll paint up as per David's picture of the Von Schill Hussars on his "Not By Appointment" blog. Alte Fritz has a link to some very snappy looking Prussian Hussars as well.
Any 18th Century Imagi-nation Ruler can recruit these lads with confidence (And they're easy on the ol' warchest). So...if your mounted branch is looking a little jaded and dowdy, a couple of regiments of these dashing fellows will lend a higher tone to any brawls your army may find itself in.
Cuirassiers! The Markgraaf needs Cuirassiers!
Friday, September 10, 2010
At Colonel Schreiber's Camp
The Markgraaf rode to the encampment where the recently hired Schreiber's Freikorps had been billeted. He approved of the sentries that stopped him at the camp's edge and asked him his business. Thanks to General Schwillingsaufenstein, he knew the passwords that would admit him. He approved even more, that even though he had given the proper responses, he was escorted by the Sergeant of the Guard's squad to the Colonel's headquarters, and was turned over to the Headquarter's Duty platoon. Such caution would be needed in the days to come.
The Colonel was at dinner. The Markgraaf was told to dismount, picket his horse with the rest, leave his pistols in their holsters, and the Lieutenant would see to his sword, while he waited the Colonel's pleasure.
As he did so, he heard laughter coming from the Colonel's mess tent, and the distinctive voice of Ritter Hugo von Schwillingsaufenstein, General of the Army of Raubenstadt, telling one of his favorite stories. The Markgraaf had heard the tale many times before as man and boy, and the good General was just coming to the end. Ritter Hugo was relating it with great gusto to his new and captive audience. The Markgraaf sat down on a nearby camp stool, under a canvas fly, and listened again to the old soldier weave the web that held the hearer's spellbound.
"The enemy was defeated, by God! The Vile Stagonians were retreating; leaving the field of glory to us! Thank God! For our part we were glad to see them go, for we had seen enough of them that day, by God! It was my first triumph as an independent commander of men. A proud moment for me to be sure; and I savored it to the full. Forty years have passed me quicker than that moment!"
Cheers, glasses, and steins were raised in salute. It also gave the General a chance to relight his pipe and take a pull from the foaming tankard by his side. Outside, in the gathering dark, the Markgraaf raised a full water dipper as well, and wet his throat.
"Telling stories is thirsty work. Now then...where was I?" He puffed on his pipe a time or two and continued, "Ah! Yes! But all too soon the sweet taste of victory took on a bitter tang. A local inhabitant was brought to me by the Escort Squadron. I pointed to a nearby collection of houses, and asked him, 'What is the name of that village, my fine fellow?' Imagine how crestfallen I became when I learned that my first victory would be forever known as, 'The Battle Of Halfwitz!'"
More laughter rippled through the audience of Freikorps officers. As it died down, a young cadet spoke up, "But Sir, that's not the name stitched on the flag."
The General took his pipe from his mouth, and pointed the stem of it at the youngster, as he addressed the Colonel, "Mark that one for advancement Schrieber! He notices the details and speaks up about them!" The Markgraaf recalled the thrill of pride that had coursed through him too, when he had spoken up to the General years ago.
"Sit down young man and let me finish.", Ritter Hugo said. "In a desperate effort to retrieve the situation, I just made it worse. I should have just left well enough alone." A hush fell over the tent, as the officers leaned forward to hear the end of the story. "I then asked the lout the name of the walled manor house that our Grenadiers had successfully assaulted, breaking the Stagonian's will to continue the fight. 'That's the House of Stupitz, my Lord.', the clod replied. Gentlemen, that's how the the Battle of Stupitz-Halfwitz became emblazoned on my banner from that day to this! So...pay attention to your maps; and if you do have to offer battle to your foe, promise me you'll try to find a decently named place to do so!"
Noticing the time, Colonel Schreiber dismissed his officers, and bade them good night. As they began to disperse throughout the encampment, the Lieutenant came up and said to the Markgraaf, "The Colonel will see you now.", and led the way.
As he entered, Schreiber looked over and casually glanced at the stranger. Medium height, brown hair well sprinkled with grey at the temples, starting to get a little stout in the middle, walked with a slight limp - favoring the left leg.
"So my good man, what can I do for you?", the Colonel inquired; and waited for the farmer to tell his tale of missing livestock or some such.
"Perhaps it would be better if I made the introductions.", Hugo smoothly intervened. "Colonel Schreiber, this is my ruler, my friend, and your employer, His Grace, The Markgraaf Of Raubenstadt. Your Grace, this is Colonel Rupert von Schreiber of the Freikorps you hired."
As Rupert came to his feet, he was relieved when the Markgraaf put out his right hand and firmly shook hands with him. You never could tell with the high nobility. Some of them could carry grudges about perceived slights for very long periods of time.
"Very pleased to meet you, Colonel", he said.
"Beg pardon, my Lord. I didn't know." Rupert began.
"No matter. No matter. Needs must when the Devil drives, as they say.", the Markgraaf responded; doing his best to put the Colonel at ease. "Please Gentlemen, sit down and make yourselves comfortable. We have much to discuss."
As the sentries made their appointed rounds that night, they noticed the Colonel's tent stayed illuminated from within until the small hours of the morning.
The Colonel was at dinner. The Markgraaf was told to dismount, picket his horse with the rest, leave his pistols in their holsters, and the Lieutenant would see to his sword, while he waited the Colonel's pleasure.
As he did so, he heard laughter coming from the Colonel's mess tent, and the distinctive voice of Ritter Hugo von Schwillingsaufenstein, General of the Army of Raubenstadt, telling one of his favorite stories. The Markgraaf had heard the tale many times before as man and boy, and the good General was just coming to the end. Ritter Hugo was relating it with great gusto to his new and captive audience. The Markgraaf sat down on a nearby camp stool, under a canvas fly, and listened again to the old soldier weave the web that held the hearer's spellbound.
"The enemy was defeated, by God! The Vile Stagonians were retreating; leaving the field of glory to us! Thank God! For our part we were glad to see them go, for we had seen enough of them that day, by God! It was my first triumph as an independent commander of men. A proud moment for me to be sure; and I savored it to the full. Forty years have passed me quicker than that moment!"
Cheers, glasses, and steins were raised in salute. It also gave the General a chance to relight his pipe and take a pull from the foaming tankard by his side. Outside, in the gathering dark, the Markgraaf raised a full water dipper as well, and wet his throat.
"Telling stories is thirsty work. Now then...where was I?" He puffed on his pipe a time or two and continued, "Ah! Yes! But all too soon the sweet taste of victory took on a bitter tang. A local inhabitant was brought to me by the Escort Squadron. I pointed to a nearby collection of houses, and asked him, 'What is the name of that village, my fine fellow?' Imagine how crestfallen I became when I learned that my first victory would be forever known as, 'The Battle Of Halfwitz!'"
More laughter rippled through the audience of Freikorps officers. As it died down, a young cadet spoke up, "But Sir, that's not the name stitched on the flag."
The General took his pipe from his mouth, and pointed the stem of it at the youngster, as he addressed the Colonel, "Mark that one for advancement Schrieber! He notices the details and speaks up about them!" The Markgraaf recalled the thrill of pride that had coursed through him too, when he had spoken up to the General years ago.
"Sit down young man and let me finish.", Ritter Hugo said. "In a desperate effort to retrieve the situation, I just made it worse. I should have just left well enough alone." A hush fell over the tent, as the officers leaned forward to hear the end of the story. "I then asked the lout the name of the walled manor house that our Grenadiers had successfully assaulted, breaking the Stagonian's will to continue the fight. 'That's the House of Stupitz, my Lord.', the clod replied. Gentlemen, that's how the the Battle of Stupitz-Halfwitz became emblazoned on my banner from that day to this! So...pay attention to your maps; and if you do have to offer battle to your foe, promise me you'll try to find a decently named place to do so!"
Noticing the time, Colonel Schreiber dismissed his officers, and bade them good night. As they began to disperse throughout the encampment, the Lieutenant came up and said to the Markgraaf, "The Colonel will see you now.", and led the way.
As he entered, Schreiber looked over and casually glanced at the stranger. Medium height, brown hair well sprinkled with grey at the temples, starting to get a little stout in the middle, walked with a slight limp - favoring the left leg.
"So my good man, what can I do for you?", the Colonel inquired; and waited for the farmer to tell his tale of missing livestock or some such.
"Perhaps it would be better if I made the introductions.", Hugo smoothly intervened. "Colonel Schreiber, this is my ruler, my friend, and your employer, His Grace, The Markgraaf Of Raubenstadt. Your Grace, this is Colonel Rupert von Schreiber of the Freikorps you hired."
As Rupert came to his feet, he was relieved when the Markgraaf put out his right hand and firmly shook hands with him. You never could tell with the high nobility. Some of them could carry grudges about perceived slights for very long periods of time.
"Very pleased to meet you, Colonel", he said.
"Beg pardon, my Lord. I didn't know." Rupert began.
"No matter. No matter. Needs must when the Devil drives, as they say.", the Markgraaf responded; doing his best to put the Colonel at ease. "Please Gentlemen, sit down and make yourselves comfortable. We have much to discuss."
As the sentries made their appointed rounds that night, they noticed the Colonel's tent stayed illuminated from within until the small hours of the morning.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
The Markgraaf Goes Hunting
Day after wearisome day had passed with no news of the Markgrafin, her brother David von Kerns, Col. Somerussian Guyovich, Agent von Mack, or the troop of guard cavalry and company of guard infantry that had escorted them to Frankzonia. It was as if they all had fallen off the face of the Earth, leaving no trace behind. Diplomatic inquiries were blandly deflected by the Frankzonian Court. Covert attempts had yielded nothing. Limited cavalry scouting of the common border was done to no avail. The Markgraaf considered himself to be a patient man, but at last he could stand the inaction no longer. He summoned Wilhelm, his oldest son, and Otto von Weisenheimer, the Chancellor of Raubenstadt to the Palace...
"Son, I'm going after your Mother to bring her home from wherever she's gotten off to. I'm leaving you in charge until my return." Startled by the announcement, the Chancellor started to protest, but was waved to silence by the Markgraaf. "NO!
Otto, my old friend! My mind is made up and nothing you were going to say can change it. As a young man I rode into their Court and swept the Baroness von Kerns off her feet in a whirlwind courtship that they still talk about! Thirty years have passed me quicker than the image of the first time I saw her. The Old Duchess disapproved of one of her ladies-in-waiting marrying beneath her and opposed our union."
He reached out and gently shook his son's shoulder and laughed, "Luckily for you, your brothers, and sister we ignored her. I will not go another day doing nothing!"
"But Father", Wilhelm said, "I want her back as much as you. Uncle Ernst and Uncle Johan have been frantically trying to move Heaven and Earth trying to find her! Let me go in your stead."
"Ah? You think I'm too old to play the role of the questing Gallant Knight coming to the aid of his Lady Fair?! Bless you boy for the thought, but there's life in the old dog yet. What was done once, can be done again!"
Leaning in close so he could see his son's eyes, the Markgraaf whispered, "The greatest thing about being the one in charge is that you can have things done the way you want them. Mostly it is a great burden, but there are times when it's very useful. This is one of those times. You will discover this for yourself when you rule this place and have a wife of your own, my son."
With that, the Markgraaf gathered his hat, cloak, sword, and pistols from a series of servants as he headed for the Great Hall. He left the Palace, mounted his horse, and left Heidlebeerenburg behind him. He hadn't felt so alive in a long time. If there was even a hint of a trace of Mad Ludwig's involvement in this affair, the Markgraaf was determined to quickly finish up the business with the Prince-Bishop of Spires and turn his eyes toward Stagonia. Colonel Schieber was going to be very surprised.
"Son, I'm going after your Mother to bring her home from wherever she's gotten off to. I'm leaving you in charge until my return." Startled by the announcement, the Chancellor started to protest, but was waved to silence by the Markgraaf. "NO!
Otto, my old friend! My mind is made up and nothing you were going to say can change it. As a young man I rode into their Court and swept the Baroness von Kerns off her feet in a whirlwind courtship that they still talk about! Thirty years have passed me quicker than the image of the first time I saw her. The Old Duchess disapproved of one of her ladies-in-waiting marrying beneath her and opposed our union."
He reached out and gently shook his son's shoulder and laughed, "Luckily for you, your brothers, and sister we ignored her. I will not go another day doing nothing!"
"But Father", Wilhelm said, "I want her back as much as you. Uncle Ernst and Uncle Johan have been frantically trying to move Heaven and Earth trying to find her! Let me go in your stead."
"Ah? You think I'm too old to play the role of the questing Gallant Knight coming to the aid of his Lady Fair?! Bless you boy for the thought, but there's life in the old dog yet. What was done once, can be done again!"
Leaning in close so he could see his son's eyes, the Markgraaf whispered, "The greatest thing about being the one in charge is that you can have things done the way you want them. Mostly it is a great burden, but there are times when it's very useful. This is one of those times. You will discover this for yourself when you rule this place and have a wife of your own, my son."
With that, the Markgraaf gathered his hat, cloak, sword, and pistols from a series of servants as he headed for the Great Hall. He left the Palace, mounted his horse, and left Heidlebeerenburg behind him. He hadn't felt so alive in a long time. If there was even a hint of a trace of Mad Ludwig's involvement in this affair, the Markgraaf was determined to quickly finish up the business with the Prince-Bishop of Spires and turn his eyes toward Stagonia. Colonel Schieber was going to be very surprised.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Back On Track/Stay On Target
Well...it's taken a while, but I think I've recovered from my son's wedding. The photographer was amazing! He even made this Sow's Ear look like a Silk Purse. But enough about that. What's been going on in Raubenstadt?
Well, the short answer is not much. The Margrafin has gone missing in Frankzonia, and one or more of her brothers may be dead. Agent von Mack has gone silent. So the Markgraaf has considered launching a multi-pronged approach - diplomatic, economic, surrepticious, and low-grade military in an effort to clear away the mists and find out, "Just what the Devil is going on?!" Stagonian involvement is suspected, and if proven, the already frosty relations may hit a new low.
The gutting of the Basement (aka ManCave) continues at a slow but steady pace. Need to install battery powered back-up sump pump to prevent future water damage. (A new, faster, better, stronger Raubenstadt will arise from the soggy bottoms.) It's taking me longer than I expected, but it will be awesome when I'm done. It will be nice to have a place where I can store, display, and play with all the wargaming stuff I've accumulated, and not watch it get stored away in the attic or garage for years at a time.
In the meantime, two publications have arrived from "On Military Matters". The first one is "This Very Ground" a one to one skirmishing game set in the French And Indian War. I like the simple mechanics, and they are robust enough to set in other times and theaters. Say...AWI, 1812, SYW, etc. Good Stuff! The second one was Asquith's "Wargamer's Guide to the War of 1812". It's chock full of information about the campaigns, the troops, and the battles big and small. I enjoyed reading it.
Speaking about 1812, next year is the Bicentennial of the Battle of Tippecanoe. I understand that from the Indiana State Historical Society, that the whole campaign will be re-enacted from the Tecumpseh/Harrison meetings at Vincennes, the Pigeon Roost Massacre, the march up the Wabash to Prophet's Town, and of course, the battle. I'm looking forward to it all.
Well, the short answer is not much. The Margrafin has gone missing in Frankzonia, and one or more of her brothers may be dead. Agent von Mack has gone silent. So the Markgraaf has considered launching a multi-pronged approach - diplomatic, economic, surrepticious, and low-grade military in an effort to clear away the mists and find out, "Just what the Devil is going on?!" Stagonian involvement is suspected, and if proven, the already frosty relations may hit a new low.
The gutting of the Basement (aka ManCave) continues at a slow but steady pace. Need to install battery powered back-up sump pump to prevent future water damage. (A new, faster, better, stronger Raubenstadt will arise from the soggy bottoms.) It's taking me longer than I expected, but it will be awesome when I'm done. It will be nice to have a place where I can store, display, and play with all the wargaming stuff I've accumulated, and not watch it get stored away in the attic or garage for years at a time.
In the meantime, two publications have arrived from "On Military Matters". The first one is "This Very Ground" a one to one skirmishing game set in the French And Indian War. I like the simple mechanics, and they are robust enough to set in other times and theaters. Say...AWI, 1812, SYW, etc. Good Stuff! The second one was Asquith's "Wargamer's Guide to the War of 1812". It's chock full of information about the campaigns, the troops, and the battles big and small. I enjoyed reading it.
Speaking about 1812, next year is the Bicentennial of the Battle of Tippecanoe. I understand that from the Indiana State Historical Society, that the whole campaign will be re-enacted from the Tecumpseh/Harrison meetings at Vincennes, the Pigeon Roost Massacre, the march up the Wabash to Prophet's Town, and of course, the battle. I'm looking forward to it all.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
All Of Raubenstadt Celebrates!
Our "Number Three" Son, Evan, is getting married this Saturday. Preparations have been underway for the better part of a year, and are now getting into high gear in the final week. He's the first of our four to get hitched. I'm going to try and do my level best to get through it with as much grace as I can muster; for beneath this hard, crusty exterior, lurks a soft, squishy center. (Good Heavens! I've just described a Tootsie Pop!)
So the Markgraaf invites his fellow Imagi-Nation rulers to fill their glasses and mugs to the brim as he toasts the happy couple, "May you live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live! To Evan and his lovely Bride Jennifer!"
The artillery batteries of the Felsigburg will be busy firing salutes for quite sometime to come, so the Markgraaf's plaintive cry of, "I'm too young to be a Grandfather!" will, no doubt, be lost amidst the resounding booms.
So the Markgraaf invites his fellow Imagi-Nation rulers to fill their glasses and mugs to the brim as he toasts the happy couple, "May you live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live! To Evan and his lovely Bride Jennifer!"
The artillery batteries of the Felsigburg will be busy firing salutes for quite sometime to come, so the Markgraaf's plaintive cry of, "I'm too young to be a Grandfather!" will, no doubt, be lost amidst the resounding booms.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
It Was A Dark And Stormy Night...
The lightning would flash and be reflected in the water of the river for a few seconds. The thunder would roll and echo back and forth in the hills of the river valley, while the wind driven sheets of rain relentlessly fell from the night sky. The Markgraaf savored the view from a palace window for a moment, before closing it. The weather matched his mood. He turned to face the four people he had summoned to this gathering. They looked worried and exchanged anxious glances between themselves. "As well they should.", he grumped to himself. The Markgraaf liked to think that he was a benevolent, kind, and patient ruler, but he was not a happy man, and in Raubenstadt, when the Markgraaf is not happy, no one is happy, or at least doesn't allow the happiness to show.
"She's been gone far too long! Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong! ...and NO one has had ANY communication with her, officially or unofficially since she and her escort left?!", he said.
"There has been no contact with the Margrafin verbal or written, or with the officers of her escort." Secretary Bueller blandly stated.
The Markgraaf turned his gaze to Ernst v.Kerns, the commander of his guards, "Not a peep from your brother David, or from Colonel Guyovich?"
The brigadier levelly looked the Markgraaf in the eyes and said, "Martin...I have heard nothing from either of them. They would gladly sacrifice themselves before they would let even the shadow of danger come near her."
The Markgraaf nodded. More to himself than anything else. He knew the Von Kerns valor well, and what they were capable of doing. "The shadow of danger...the shadow of danger...", he murmured. "Chancellor Wisenheimer! Has there been no message at all from von Mack?"
"Not that I'm aware of, your Grace.", the Chancellor replied. "Von Mack is a very resourceful and capable fellow. I have no doubt that he would find a way to alert us if something had happened to her Grace, her brother, or Colonel Guyovich."
"You're putting an awful amount of faith in one man.", the Markgraaf sighed and shrugged his shoulders.
"The Frankfurters have been undergoing a turbulent time.", the Chancellor said to try and reassure his friend and ruler, but could not resist adding, "But then again, when have they not had turbulent times?" This drew some chuckles of agreement all around.
"The Fartzen have been known to be upsetting and quarrelsome in their day to themselves and their neighbors, but if the Grand Duke or one of his many relatives has allowed the slightest harm to come to her..." The Markgraaf paused to calm and compose himself, "...the consequences will be severe."
The Markgraaf sat down by General Schwillingsaufenstein, and asked, "What was the name of that Frei-Korps that was marching though here the other day?"
The general took the last sip of schnapps from his glass, wiped his moustache with the back of his hand, "Schrieber's. Bunch of down on their luck Saxons from the Ducal Houses looking for a contract. A couple troops of ratty looking Dragoons on nags, a company of shoddy Grenadiers, and a smattering of ragged Jagers. Nothing special, but their weapons were in good order."
"Hire them Hugo.", the Markgraaf said. "Give them the standard agreement, but keep it quiet. Quarter them in one of the smaller towns near the Frankfurter border. I may soon have need of troops who's reprehensible actions I can disavow."
"She's been gone far too long! Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong! ...and NO one has had ANY communication with her, officially or unofficially since she and her escort left?!", he said.
"There has been no contact with the Margrafin verbal or written, or with the officers of her escort." Secretary Bueller blandly stated.
The Markgraaf turned his gaze to Ernst v.Kerns, the commander of his guards, "Not a peep from your brother David, or from Colonel Guyovich?"
The brigadier levelly looked the Markgraaf in the eyes and said, "Martin...I have heard nothing from either of them. They would gladly sacrifice themselves before they would let even the shadow of danger come near her."
The Markgraaf nodded. More to himself than anything else. He knew the Von Kerns valor well, and what they were capable of doing. "The shadow of danger...the shadow of danger...", he murmured. "Chancellor Wisenheimer! Has there been no message at all from von Mack?"
"Not that I'm aware of, your Grace.", the Chancellor replied. "Von Mack is a very resourceful and capable fellow. I have no doubt that he would find a way to alert us if something had happened to her Grace, her brother, or Colonel Guyovich."
"You're putting an awful amount of faith in one man.", the Markgraaf sighed and shrugged his shoulders.
"The Frankfurters have been undergoing a turbulent time.", the Chancellor said to try and reassure his friend and ruler, but could not resist adding, "But then again, when have they not had turbulent times?" This drew some chuckles of agreement all around.
"The Fartzen have been known to be upsetting and quarrelsome in their day to themselves and their neighbors, but if the Grand Duke or one of his many relatives has allowed the slightest harm to come to her..." The Markgraaf paused to calm and compose himself, "...the consequences will be severe."
The Markgraaf sat down by General Schwillingsaufenstein, and asked, "What was the name of that Frei-Korps that was marching though here the other day?"
The general took the last sip of schnapps from his glass, wiped his moustache with the back of his hand, "Schrieber's. Bunch of down on their luck Saxons from the Ducal Houses looking for a contract. A couple troops of ratty looking Dragoons on nags, a company of shoddy Grenadiers, and a smattering of ragged Jagers. Nothing special, but their weapons were in good order."
"Hire them Hugo.", the Markgraaf said. "Give them the standard agreement, but keep it quiet. Quarter them in one of the smaller towns near the Frankfurter border. I may soon have need of troops who's reprehensible actions I can disavow."
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Fifty-Five And Holding
I turned 55 today. Much like Yogi Bera, "If I'd known I was gonna live this long, I woulda taken better care of myself." It was a quiet day, and I had a nice dinner with the wife, number 3 son, and his fiance. I'm still coming to terms with the fact that one third of my life is over. I must find more time for the important things in life like....WARGAMING!
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