The Autumn of our Discontent (and 1903)

The Shocking Orders:



The Unthinkable Results:



Intrigue abounds! Does this cruel, cruel summer campaign represent a fundamental shift in the power structures of the Continent? Only time will tell, but in the meantime, Rofranz Foferdinand has gotten real weird about the fact that he's mysteriously in charge of Italy and started looking towards the Orient, and the dreams of glory and reunification he sees in the stately cathedrals and impressive cannonades of the former Eastern Roman Empire. King Benjie IV and Marquis de Salmond continue their impressive game of who can keep their tongue in the other fellows butthole the longest as they team up against the staunchly heterosexual Kaiser Magic von Magic, who right about now is probably regretting tut-tutting that proposition in the bathhouse from the giggling and be-moustachioed French and Englishmen several years ago. Meanwhile, Grand Vizier Cherry makes no progress in the trenches as he continues to commit resources to lend assistance to his oldest friend and ally, the Archduke Guerraschplatz, who pretty much seems to be bent over a velvet chaise-lounge and all but presenting himself to the swarthy and notoriously rapely Turks in the style of some sort of extremely well dressed bitch in heat. When nobody was looking, there seems to have been a popular uprising in Russia, and Chairman Alteriostok has been installed in place of the old Czar. With this change in national politics comes a change in foreign policy, and the peoples army now has it's sights set on the decadent Austro-Hungarians. Their new rallying cry "Death before Suckass!" can be heard from Bothnia to Budapest and has proven to be significantly more popular than the bourgeois czarist motto "tea before opulent Russian pastries!"

All retreating units have been put to the sword by their merciless foes. "Where'd my unit go?" you may be asking yourself. "Why, they've been put to the sword, my good man", says I, "didn't you read the previous sentence?"

The only weirdness is for King Benjie IV. Apparently, to support a convoy, the supporter needs to be touching the convoy endpoint (if you know what I'm sayin', and I bet your special friend the Marquis de Salmond does). It makes no difference here, however, as your pasty and stiff upper-lipped redcoats stormed the beaches of Denmark with no resistance. Eat a bag of uncircumcised dicks, Hamlet!