• We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
I'm in! Just in time for the hold too I presume. :mad:

Very teasing of you to produce a few exciting updates, and then put it on hold!

I'll write out another one sometime soon that won't leave it on such a perilous cliffhanger, and I'm glad to have you on board :)
 
Apparently Major Ducos has a twin brother. And I'm frustrated that you beat me to the narrative EU3 field. :p
 
“Like bloody rats in a pit, sir.”

Bloody rats in a pit, Are you Bloody british? :p

You know what you're my favorite aar writer well thats not saying much because last week catknight was my favorite auther but you know what you could put that in you're signature
"Wolfcity's favorite auther of the week of June 1st!!!!!
 
Apparently Major Ducos has a twin brother. And I'm frustrated that you beat me to the narrative EU3 field. :p

Hehe, that's who I've loosely based him off of, you caught me! :D

Bloody rats in a pit, Are you Bloody british? :p

Well I can't say fucking now can I, not historically accurate wot wot!

In seriousness though, I'm actually Canadian, though I do use a unhealthy amount of British slang whenever I can.
 
Bloody rats in a pit, Are you Bloody british? :p

You're just jealous because Brits have far better slang.

You wanker. :p

And now, I shall retire for the night, having reached my goal of post #500.
 
Impressive start, right in the middle of some tense fighting. Great writing, as well.

This level of action might be hard to keep up in later chapters :eek: but I'm sure you'll manage.
 
You're just jealous because Brits have far better slang.

You wanker. :p

And now, I shall retire for the night, having reached my goal of post #500.

Congrats :)

Impressive start, right in the middle of some tense fighting. Great writing, as well.

This level of action might be hard to keep up in later chapters :eek: but I'm sure you'll manage.

I shall try, that I can promise :p

--

And I'll have to renege on my promise of another chapter, seems I need two! Haha.
 
UQswF.gif

This Chapter’s Mood Music
(If you have Firefox you can just click the link with your middle mouse button)​

Major Schultz flopped down onto the King’s bed and almost let out a sigh of relief. He ran his hands down the soft silk sheets and thought that the bed and sheets must cost more than ten years of a major’s pay.

To the men that weren’t part of Major Schultz battalion, the gesture looked like a resignation of defeat, but the ones who were smiled as they saw his face, scrunched up as it always was when the Major was thinking hard. The passed the word down to the others – the Major’s thinking up another of his plans that always seemed to border on insanity, but for the most part invariably led to success.

The cavalry captain walked over to the figure that seemed for all the world to just be taking a casual nap, unperturbed by the banging and ramming at the door by the French outside.

“Why don’t we just surrender? I’ve heard nothing that says the French won’t treat us well,” the Captain spoke to Major Schultz, and then hurried on when the Major looked at him with annoyance, “We’ll have to sit out the remainder of the war of course, but they’ll just send us to Verdun. It’s not a bad town I hear, and…” the Captain trailed off as he looked at a man in the corner of the room, and Major Shultz turned to look as well.

“Oi! Ebert, bring that here you greedy bastard.” Major Schultz called to the man, who reluctantly walked over and handed the object he had been admiring to his officer.

Schultz sat up and held the object in front of him, admiring the finely polished gold and jeweled insets. Every eye in the room cast over and looked at it for a brief moment before returning to their duties of either pushing back against the door to keep the French out, or finding other furniture to pile into a crude barricade.

P9Ufh.png

“Here’s one reason we shouldn’t surrender.” Schultz said jokingly to the cavalry Captain who was simply staring wide eyed at the object, “Though, I suppose it belongs to the boy now.” Schultz looked over to the boy, who was sitting in a corner of the room eating a piece of cheese that Sergeant Olwitz had given him. The boy looked back at the Major, then turned back to his quickly disappearing cheese.

“The French wouldn’t dare take it.”

Schultz chuckled, his jovial laugh carrying around the room. “Why do you think they killed King Frederick? They want this crown, and they want the throne that comes along with it.”

“So, we surrender to an honourable officer, and make sure that the word somehow reaches others that Frederick the Fourth still lives.”

“Listen. We could surrender to those bastards out there, and I’m sure that the lad would be treated fine-“

“They why aren’t we? Is this some sort of ill placed last stand you want to make for glory’s sake?” The captain interrupted Major Schultz.

“What’s your name?”

He was taken aback by the quick change of subject, but recovered quickly enough, “Captain Aldric von Werner of the 6th Hussars.”

DreGm.jpg

Captain Aldric von Werner

Schultz noted the slight emphasis on the ‘von’, but he didn’t care to challenge it.

“We could surrender, Captain Aldric, and Frederick would be treated fine, but I can assure you that if the French were willing to kill the Third, then I’m almost certain the Fourth would somehow manage to have a little ‘accident’ and fall down a flight of stairs or something similar, and we’d all soon find ourselves with a bloody Frenchman on the throne of Prussia. Besides, I find it hard to believe there is such a thing as an ‘honourable’ Frog,” Schultz scowled at von Werner, daring him to challenge his foretelling of events. The captain instead simply walked away and shouted some useless order to keep building the barricade, despite the fact that there was little left to be done.

Schultz stuffed the crown of Prussia in his bag and fished out a piece of old bread which he ate while listening to the thud of a Frenchman throwing himself against the door. Every few seconds the door would crash open by a tiny bit and then jam against part of the barricade before a hulking Saxon wearing the uniform of the Lichtenhayn Grenadiers slammed his shoulder into the door and closed it again. Once a pistol poked through the gap when the door opened, but the Saxon smashed his body against the door again and bent the barrel of the gun, which the Frenchman on their other side fired nonetheless. A yelp of pain signified that the bullet had lodged in the barrel during flight and blew out the backend of the pistol, which was withdrawn after the door shuddered open slightly again. Schultz flopped himself back down on the bed.

And bounced.

He laughed, which to the others in the room sounded like the laugh of a maniac, but for Schultz it was his mad laugh of triumph. His eyes went back and forth from the bed mattress to the window, measuring distances and lengths, and then barked at two privates to cut the bed in half. They looked puzzled at each other before Sergeant Olwitz booted one of them in the rear and told them to listen to the Major. They hurried over and dragged the plush mattress to the floor and started sawing away at it with the serrated edges of their bayonets. Sergeant Olwitz crossed over to his Major.

“Now, sir, you wouldn’t happen to be planning on anything brash now would you?” Olwitz asked with a look of mischievous delight playing across his face.

“Of course not. The bed was merely too large for me, so I’m making our very privileged Captain over there his own.”

Sergeant Garrit Olwitz chuckled and took out his canteen and drank some of the liquid inside which smelt quite similar to brandy. He offered it to the Major, who waved him aside.

“I only drink in excess, Sergeant, you know that.”

“Aye, sir, no use doing something only halfway, eh?”

“Quite right.” Schultz paused as a chill silence crept over the room. The French had stopped hammering into the door, and he could hear mumbled shouts and the shuffle of feet outside before there was a dull thud and a wrenching sound followed quickly by another.

“Back from the door!” Schultz shouted at the men, but the Saxon, who Sergeant Olwitz had said was named Hermann, turned and looked at Schultz. The door behind him gave a sickening groan and the blade of an axe crashed through it, stopping inches away from Hermann’s skull.

“Get back you idiot!” Sergeant Olwitz shouted at the man, who turned and jumped back as he saw how close the axe was.

Schultz was forming the men into a line behind the tangle of furniture that had been made into a crude barrier. Another thud of the door tore a piece of wood away, and the barrel of a musket poked through and fired, sending a ball into the far wall with a faint thud. Schultz narrowed his eyes and looked through the hole in the door and felt a chill involuntarily run up his spine. He had glimpsed what had seemed like bear fur for only a fleeting second, but his instinct told him the view was true. The shuffle and pause had not been the French bringing up axes, it had been Napoleon’s Imperial Guard being brought up to crash through the broken door and slaughter the defenders.

“Hold steady lads!” Schultz called to the crude line that had been formed. Ten men stood at the front line, with another ten behind that, and a further ten behind that. Prince Frederick was in the corner, guarded by a one eyed artilleryman and a private from the 7th Saxon Infantry. The sound of the axes hammering at the door changed pitch as they went to work on the doors hinges, and at any moment the door would fall forward and burly men with sharp bayonets would come charging into the room.

The rhythmic thud against the door was the only sound that played in the room, as the men in their crude line held their breath, waiting for the French to come charging into the waiting musket line. One of the hinges broke off and the door hung precariously from the top hinge, and then that cracked off, sounding unnaturally loud in the odd silence that permeated the room. A boot kicked at the door, and it fell forward with a deafening crash.

And Napoleon’s Imperial Guard charged.

They were the cream of Napoleon’s French Empire, the men who were veterans of dozens of conflicts. They were nicknamed the ‘Immortals’ by their fellow French comrades, and they came through the doorway looking like the manifestations of old Pagan warriors, come to bring fire and death to civilization. And all that stood before them and their task was a crude line of Prussians, men plucked from the chaos of defeat by a Major too proud to surrender; they were all that stood to defend a Crown, a Prince, and a Kingdom.
 
Last edited:
The Prussians against the Imperial Guard?

The French better bring more men. :D

Edit: That was my 1776 post on Independence day! :D
 
By the laws of narratives, a hodgepodge band of unlikely heroes with no particular skills but sufficient pluck will always defeat the creme-de-la-creme of anywhere. I'm almost not worried at all :D

Incidentally, Pagan Warriors for les grognards sounds spot on. Tattoos and earrings and all.
 
Forty pfennig on the drum? Garde-Regiment Schulz (1. Freiwilligen des König Friedrichs), complete with unauthorized green-coated rifle-toting Jägers in the skirmish company?
 
If loving you is wrong, Torbjorn, I don't want to be right.
 
The odds are obviously fully in favor of the Prussians.

You have a very nice narrative going on here, Kapt Torbjorn!
 
Perhaps the Dolphin flag is from the Duchy of Dauphine? or the county of Dauphine Viennois?.

As for the AAR, a really enthralling read, you set the time period well and as I do love the Napoleonic period I will be following.
 
The Prussians against the Imperial Guard?

The French better bring more men. :D

Edit: That was my 1776 post on Independence day! :D

Haha

I remember on another forum I was playing a forum game as Germany and my announcement of the invasion of Russia came on my 1941th post.

By the laws of narratives, a hodgepodge band of unlikely heroes with no particular skills but sufficient pluck will always defeat the creme-de-la-creme of anywhere. I'm almost not worried at all :D

Incidentally, Pagan Warriors for les grognards sounds spot on. Tattoos and earrings and all.

I'm a stickler for cliches lol. But I doubt they'll actually win; they may survive though.


Forty pfennig on the drum? Garde-Regiment Schulz (1. Freiwilligen des König Friedrichs), complete with unauthorized green-coated rifle-toting Jägers in the skirmish company?

Something like that. Would be nice to have rifles, but maybe that's going too far? Idk, have to look up Prussian military equipment for the time.

If loving you is wrong, Torbjorn, I don't want to be right.

:rofl: Cheers!

The odds are obviously fully in favor of the Prussians.

You have a very nice narrative going on here, Kapt Torbjorn!

Tyvm!

Perhaps the Dolphin flag is from the Duchy of Dauphine? or the county of Dauphine Viennois?.

As for the AAR, a really enthralling read, you set the time period well and as I do love the Napoleonic period I will be following.

Hmm maybe. So many obscure coats of arms for now defunct nations ahh!

Merci beaucoup, the Napoleonic Era is definitely my favourite :D
 
Something like that. Would be nice to have rifles, but maybe that's going too far? Idk, have to look up Prussian military equipment for the time.

You're welcome. The Baker is IIRC essentially an evolution of the Jäger rifle, standardized for mass production.
 
You're welcome. The Baker is IIRC essentially an evolution of the Jäger rifle, standardized for mass production.

Aha! Thank you, now I need to figure out a way for those two brothers to escape with my ragtag bunch of Prussian misfits.