General de Latte's Irish Grenzers open fire on the Stollenian 2nd (von Laurenz) Musketeers opposite them in the valley below.
“Ah,”
began de Latte, “I thought you’d never ask!
I’m going to have my Irish Grenzers under Colonel O'Malley fire at your von Laurenz Musketeers.
Five
of the former are 9"-12" from the left wing of the atter. Blast! I
rolled a 1. The result is nuncupatory!”
“Bad show, old bed warmer, bad show!” cajoled General
von Tschatschke, adding, “Looks like your grenzers can’t hit the side of a
barn. But next time. Surely, it will be better next time.” Across the gaming table, de Latte gnashed his
teeth and continued.
“Four of my Mittau Volunteers in open order
are 12" from the right-hand gun of your lone artillery battery. I’m going to have them fire on it. I
roll a 4 on a D6. As it's 4 firing figures or less, the result is halved and
halved again due to long range fire. One casualty is inflicted upon your
gunners. Not bad for troops in open
order who are advancing downhill, I dare say.”
“Inconsequential, my dear de Latte, inconsequential,”
snorted von Tschatschke, continuing with, “Come on! Give me five of your best. Your what for. Your sixes and sevens. Your ins and outs. Your overs and unders.” De Latte grimaced and began again.
“Hmmm. I don't remember if the rest of my Mittau
Vols moved. If they did not and are
within range of your artillery battery, I think they will fire upon the nearest
of the gunners then.”
“Oh,
bad luck I’m afraid de Latte,” said General von Tschatschke, making no attempt
to conceal his glee, “You moved those
boys this turn, so no firing until Turn Five.”
“Confound
it!” said General de Latte. “What about von Flickenhoffer's Fusiliers? Are they within range of your von Laurenz
boys? If they are, then let’s have
them fire away!” said the Frenchman, his Gallic fighting spirit returning.
“So sorry, my dear de Latte, but your nearest troops
from the Von Flickenhoffer Regiment are 17" away. Still too far for you to fire on my troops it
looks like.”
“Agh!” General de Latte threw up his hands. “Let’s save it for the next turn then! “That’s about it for any musketry this time around.”
“You never know old whetstone,” von Tschatschke shot
back, “You might be lucky next time.”
“Yes, next turn,” agreed General de Latte begrudgingly. He sighed with great theatricality. “Shall we move on to assessing our respective
artillery effects then?”
“But of course!” said von Tschatschke expansively,
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. To
the guns!” Across the table, General de Latte shook his
head, took a sip of the now tepid coffee, swallowed, and made a face.
“Sumatran, you say, eh, von Tschatschke? More like last night's dishwater if you ask me. Still, maybe a little something medicinal would help get it up on its feet." He adjusted his monocle, removed it, polished it absentmindedly with a handkerchief, and replaced it. "Now, where did I
leave my pocket flask?” He looked around the drawing room.
"I don't know about your pocket flask, old pillow case," replied General von Tschatschke with a mirthful smile, "but we've recently passed the 200,000 visitor mark. Not bad for a blog that's still several months shy of turning six years old, what?"
"I don't know about your pocket flask, old pillow case," replied General von Tschatschke with a mirthful smile, "but we've recently passed the 200,000 visitor mark. Not bad for a blog that's still several months shy of turning six years old, what?"
Comments
de Latte