Lucky Ludwig's Loot

Lucky Ludwig and his gang

Lucky Ludwig lost his leg at Lobositz...

Discharged from the army, Lucky Ludwig got by with various shady business.  He recently got the big score, a crate of the most valuable wine in Prussia, the infamous Bluhwein, a potent liquid of the most perfect blue...

Precious Bluhwein

He had hid it in an abandoned ruined cottage, waiting for the local Junkers who 'lost' it to move on to the next town.  However, the Russians and Prussians had decided to have a battle right on top of it and now in the aftermath of this engagement with the various parties combing the battlefield looking for the lost and wounded, Lucky Ludwig feared his big haul may be lost.

He gathered some local rabble in the tavern.  A pair of brothers who had lost the family fortune to gambling, some local henchmen, a penniless father and son and promised them a fair share of the score if they could retrieve it...

He was right to be worried...

For during the battle, a Russian officer named Colonel Hefski had fallen from his horse in a melee with some Prussian Cuirassier.  Confused and half woozy he had come to and crawled to a ruin for safety.  Wracked with thirst, he had found a bottle of the fabled Bluhwein.  

He gulped half a bottle in one go and immediately passed out in the corner.

Some Russian infantry searching the battlefield for wounded saw Heftski and went to his aid.  Alas they also discovered the precious cache and also decide to have a few sips.  

Two hours later they were still singing, squabbling and urinating.

Nearby, a Prussian Cuirassier, the young and ambitious Captain Rimmel sat in regret.  His regiment had smashed some enemy horse and his squadron had nearly seized the colours and an enemy colonel.  Somewhere in the melee these had been dropped near a ruined house.

He rounded up some men and asked for volunteers to sneak back and see if they could regain the lost glory...

Meanwhile... 

Captain Piscov and his Pandors hadn't seen action that day.  Posted to a woods on an extreme flank they had waited for a chance to enact their little war in the trees and rocks but no Prussians arrived here. 

His men grew restless with the chance of loot nearby, be it Prussian or Russian, they liked neither.

He decided to press on to the battlefield and see if anything their was of value...

Igor the Cruel, Captain of Cossacks was similarly annoyed.  The Prussians had clearly learnt the lessons of the past and the baggage he was expecting to pillage during the battle was guarded by Black Hussars.  He had not been able to grab the usual gold goblet or even a fat baggage wench.

However through his telescope he spied some loud Redcoats, clearly drunk and with a glint of blue that Igor wanted...

He waved his sword and his Cossacks moved forward... 

The Skirmish Begins...

As the Rowdy Russians drank and fistfought in the ruin, a shot rang out from a Cossack Musket.  Incredibly it flew straight through the head of one of the drunkards watching the fight and the unfortunate Redcoat slumped dead down the wall behind him with no other Russian soldiers realising.  

Igor gestured to one of his men, the lovable Oleg the Kind.  He sent Oleg forward to loot some  bodies and investigate the ruin...

Maybe it was the shot that rang out or just momentary consciousness but Colonel Heftski suddenly stood up, pushed his way through his fellow drunkards, walked out in to the field, burped and collapsed again.

Captain Piscov saw this and considered the prize, the Russian officer might have coins or would possibly fetch some money for his safe return.  He sent out some Pandors to grab him.

Getting a leg each, two Pandors start dragging the prostrate Heftski through the grass back towards the safety of the trees.  Seeing this and wishing to see off anyone near their stash, Lucky Ludwig's Gang let out a volley towards them.  Their history of poaching clearly honed their marksman skills, for two of the Pandors dropped dead and a ball thumped into the sedentary Heftski. 

This volley however caught the attention of some nearby Russian Horse who were patrolling the battlefield, they crashed into the looters, killing one, wounding another and scattering the rest.  Satisfied with their work and ignorant of the happenings around the ruin, the Dragoons trotted off into the valley beyond.

Seeing the horsemen disperse, all the groups tentatively stepped forward again.  

💀

The Cossacks picked forward around the bodies, the Bankrupt brothers found themselves near the cottage ruin.  

Captain Rimmel led his Prussians out of the trees and they fired towards the men ahead of them but did nothing except rouse the drunken Russians from their brawl.  

Interrupting their confused Bluhwein haze, they spotted Piscovs men manhandling Heftski and charged forwards to punch at the Croat Captain who skilfully fended their blows with his sabre.

On the other side of the ruin, one of the Prussian Cuirassier spotted the lost Russian Colours laid strewn in the grass in front of him.  As he reached for this prize he heard a blood curdling shriek.  He had awoken Wet Linda...

Wet Linda

The intoxicated violent wench lunged forward and punched the cuirassier so hard that he was left unmoving upon the ground.  She yelled out an incoherent challenge that was heard a mile away.

She charged into the group of battle hardened burly Cuirassiers with flailing limbs and curdling screams.

The Commander of the Prussians perhaps contemplated for a moment, thoughts of ethics, honour and dignity.  These thoughts lasted 2 seconds and his troops beat Wet Linda to death.

💀

Simultaneously and with as much virtue, Captain Piscov despatched the pesky unarmed brawling Russians with his Sabre and shouted at his remaining men to pick up Colonel Heftski and drag him into the trees.

As Piscov stood admiring his fine victory over the disoriented victims, the Prussian Jager accompanying the Rimmels Cuirassier took aim at him from the trees and fired a shot...

It fizzed narrowly passed him and Piscov could slip away.

Piscovs remaining Pandors heaved Heftski into the treeline, mere yards from getting the prize to safety. 

But suddenly a riderless panicked horse burst through the undergrowth, smashed into the group and mowed down another unfortunate Croat who lay crumpled and dead in the gorse.

💀

As the shots rang out, the penniless father and son crept forward to seize a prize, a wandering pack mule, seemingly laden with goods...

The Bankrupt brothers saw an opportunity to grab the Bluhwein.  They picked up the barrow full of blue booze and decide to fire upon the Cuirassiers ahead of them with their pistols.  

An unwise idea.   

Perhaps they were fearful after witnessing the brutal end to Wet Linda, perhaps the excitement of the Bluhwein so close to their grasp had effected their aim.  The shots flew harmlessly past the cuirassier and into the fields behind.

The Commander of the Prussians perhaps contemplated for a moment, thoughts of ethics, honour and dignity.  These thoughts lasted 2 seconds and his troops beat the brothers to death.

💀

The Cossacks hadn't been idle.  They had picked through the loot nearby and when spying the isolated Prussian Captain, the Cossack musketeers had fired a volley off his way.

The shots bounced off the heavy Cuirass but knocked Rimmel to the ground unconscious. 

The Jager nearby enraged by such cowardness, took aim back at the enemy Cossack commander.

The musket cracked and Ivor the Cruel dropped into the long grass, his men shocked by his loss.

The nearby Prussian Cuirassier who were finishing murdering the powdered and penniless brothers suddenly saw the azure prize, the Gluhwein.  They grasped the wheelbarrow housing the clinking crate and quickly headed back towards the forest.  

This gave a chance for the plucky Kind Oleg, who clambered over the ruined wall and rifled through the remaining cache.

He could not believe his eyes, he found a crate of abandoned Grenades!  He clutched some of the heavy iron balls, put them in a sack and headed back towards his peers.  Halfway across the field, witnessing the shot drop his Commander and the Prussians marching forward with so much booty, he decided to light a grenado...

The iron ball packed with gunpowder fizzed and smoked in his hand as he drew back his arm to earn eternal glory amongst his compatriots forever!  

This would be a really terrible time to roll a one.

Oleg the Kind's spleen whizzed through the air and caught itself in a nearby fir tree where it would later provide nourishment from a passing crow.  The rest of his body was a sort of fine mist that soiled the edges of the Prussian Cuirassiers buff coats.

💀

The explosion along with the darkening sky had shook everyone in the contested field and all decided it might be time to leave this place. 

 

The Pandors had long slunk into the forest with the wounded Colonel Heftski.  

The Cossacks startled by the vanishing trick played by Oleg and realising that he had been carrying most of the days loot, looked to the priest accompanying them who gestured towards the abandoned cannon ahead of them.

Igor the Cruel came to with a prod from the priests pole. (er...)  

Manhandling the large field piece back down the lane, the Cossacks silently cursed the bearded holy man who wanted this extremely heavy iron prize.

Lucky Ludwig, who had but a couple of keepsakes and coins he had taken from some corpses, slunk off into the darkening trees with the remaining henchmen.

The Penniless father with his paltry son safely led the mule back into the forest, hopeful that the bounty on its back would let them start a better life.

The Cuirassiers picked up Captain Rimmel and headed back to the Prussian lines.  

The Bluhwein would reach a pretty penny and the captured colours and victorious fights would provide hours of glorious stories around the campfires.

Finally Piscov carried the prone Colonel Heftski through the forest, propped him up a rock and tried to bring him round with a couple of hard slaps.

  

This would be a really terrible time to roll a one.

Colonel Heftski came to with a jump, his eyes grew wide and his whitened hands grabbed Piscovs tunic.  A gurgle came from within him and with a cough of blood onto the Pandors face he died with a lengthy fart.

Captain Piscov swore loudly.

💀

The end.

Big Thanks to the players;

Captain Piscov - Goatmajor

Lucky Ludwig - Jamie T, Supergamer TM

Captain Rimmel - World2Dave

Igor the Cruel - Norman D. Landings

"What the **** are we going to do with this Father?"

Rules were Donnybrook, scenario was modified Barry Hilton stuff from his awesome  supplements.

Figures are mainly Foundry with other metals thrown in.

Bad Photoshopping by a Gimp on Gimp.

Piscov, Ludwig, Rimmel and Igor may return...

Rest in Peace Wet Linda.