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Completed [LP] Enlist in the Royal Dragoons! Codex plays Sabres of Infinity
- Thread starter Lithium Flower
- Start date
1. Maybe it's something more interesting that 'dumbass should have known better'
Also perhaps if Alaric hadn't saved Elson, and Cazarosta gotten his promotion, perhaps he would not have been such a glory seeker.
Also perhaps if Alaric hadn't saved Elson, and Cazarosta gotten his promotion, perhaps he would not have been such a glory seeker.
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
(For whatever reason I thought that Codex would like an Cazanostra the Edgemaster. I might do a super pretentious analysis as to why he is the way he is after we are done with the first book. Regardless, we are doing 1.)
There is a moment of astonished silence. Clearly, a shortcoming in your education has left you ignorant of something that must be obvious to your two comrades. Elson is all but gawping in surprise at your just-demonstrated innocence. As he opens his mouth to explain, Cazarosta cuts him off with a sharp movement of his hand. For a moment, Cazarosta remains silent, as if he were working up the courage to do something stupid. Then, he speaks, the tone of his voice as flat and cold as a sheet of ice.
"There is little to explain. I am deathborn, someone whom your parents and tutors should have taught you to avoid: the mongrel of noble baneblood and the common fluid of peasantry. The result of the union between a commonborn man whom I never knew and a mother whom they proclaimed whore and adulteress in front of me, before they took her head off."
There is another moment of silence. Elson once again tries to speak, but is silenced by Cazarosta's angry glare.
"I can neither sense nor weave the bane. It is a sign of abomination, a sign that I am a creature unfit to stand in the presence of fine, baneblooded gentlemen like yourselves, for common blood runs in my veins. Is that not so?"
Cazarosta takes a deep breath and stares directly at you.
"To directly answer your question Ortiga, it is because to men like Walken, I am a creature of the Earl of Leoniscourt, the man who, as far as I am concerned, is my real father. It was he who paid for my commission and prevailed upon his old friend the Duke of Cunaris to take the pains of allowing his poor deathborn ward the mercy of serving in his regiment. To men like Walken, the belief that it was my lack of competence that led to the deaths of his marines is as plain as a cannon shot in a chapel. It should be plain to you two as well, and you would say so, were you not to polite to say so to my face."
-
More silence, then, Elson leans forward.
"My dear fellow, on behalf of any of us who might have wronged you I'm sor—"
"Spare me your handcrafted apologies Elson. I have no need of them. This was no more your fault than mine. The Saints decreed that I be this way for a reason. While I would not object to them making the reason why it must be so plain to me, I will follow their plan regardless."
Cazarosta sits wearily on his cot and lays down. His tiredness finally wears through his hard, emotionless facade.
"Now go to sleep."
There is nothing more to say. The Victorious' prize ship and Lieutenant Briggins' prize crew leave at dawn. The next few days are uneventful. The wind is good and the weather is calm.
You spend the time as you did before, aimlessly speaking with sailors, officers and your fellow Dragoons. After another week, the lookout finally announces that he has spotted the bleak grey of the Antari coast on the horizon.
-
What follows is an interminable period of waiting. Having reached the Antari coast and rendezvoused with the rest of the squadron, the Victorious must now wait for the wind to change enough for it to complete the last stretch of its journey, sailing west along the coast to reach the Tierran-held port of Noringia, where you and the rest of your regiment are to disembark and make final preparations before proceeding to the front.
For the next week and a half, you wait, with nothing to do besides fish, read and indulge in idle conversation.
On the tenth day of waiting, the lookout reports a ship approaching from the south: a small, sleek vessel flying the gryphon and tower of Tierra.
-
The vessel is a courier, sent directly from the naval base at Northern Pillars. Aboard are dispatches from Grenadier Square for Captain Montez, as well as orders for Captain Walken.
In addition, the vessel brings news that the Antari merchantman the Victorious had captured has already been bought out. As a result, the prize money due to the ship's crew and members of the boarding party is duly doled out. Your share comes, to your surprise, in a brown leather pouch filled with gold coins.
"No banknotes, lads." the courier explains. "No Tierran banks in Antar. Banknotes ain't much use if you can't cash them."
Cazarosta and Elson each receive their own pouches.
For your part in the boarding action, you are given an officer's share of the prize money. While the 50 crowns you receive is hardly a fortune, it is a comfortable augmentation to your current funds.
-
The next day, the wind changes, and the squadron continues on its way.
Two days later, you finally make landfall on Antari soil.
The Antari port town of Noringia is far from impressive.
Nestled between two low hills, the cluster of strange, steep-roofed houses is hardly a match for the glittering beacon spires of Aetoria or the orderly mills of Tannersburg. However, that has not stopped the town and the bay it presides over from bustling with activity.
As the Victorious sails into Noringia's sheltered harbour, you see a forest of masts. Supply vessels, horse transports, line-of-battle ships and lean frigates like the Victorious, each flying the gryphon and tower of Tierra, crowd the port, looming over the shattered defences which the local lord had tried to use, in vain, to hold off the Royal Army.
It takes almost four hours for the Victorious to weave its way through the shoals, breakwaters and other ships into its assigned place in the harbour. As you pass other vessels, you hear a scattered back and forth of hails, cheers and shouted hellos from your ship to the others. One vessel, a third rate of seventy four guns flying the red and white pennon of a Rear-Admiral over the gryphon and tower, offers no response. Her crew is too busy trying to keep her afloat in spite of the massive, house-sized hole punched into her hull.
-
Montez is on the first boat. As he departs, he orders everyone to assemble with the other squadrons of the regiment in the town square. By the time you say your farewells and are bundled on a boat, it is past midday. Neither Cazarosta or Elson are on the boat with you, leaving you with only the faces of a dozen rankers and a handful of very taciturn oarsmen for company.
The time seems to pass slowly. Every sloshing sweep of the oars seems to last an eternity. After an hour of torturous monotony, your boat finally pulls up to the primitive wooden pier.
You half-expect something momentous to happen as you set your foot down on the weather-beaten planks: some kind of fanfare to announce your arrival on this foreign and hostile land. Yet there is nothing. Thousands of men like you, serving the same king, have already landed on this very pier. Thousands more will likely do the same in the days to come. Your arrival is no special occasion.
As you walk down the pier and join the other assembled Dragoons waiting in the town square, you learn that Captain Montez, like the other squadron commanders, has been called away to a staff meeting with His Grace, the Duke of Cunaris. The assembled regiment has inevitably reduced itself to knots of friends and acquaintances. It seems that no amount of training in the world is going to keep twelve hundred young men standing still in the sun unless someone is yelling at them to do so.
-
You wait in the milling crowd of fighting men for a few minutes, catching glimmers of conversations here and there, but nothing substantial.
Soon, you see the Duke of Cunaris approaching at the head of a party of senior officers. You quickly fall into ranks with the rest of the regiment.
-
The portrait in Fernandescourt does not do the Duke justice. In the full harness of a Knight of Saint Joshua, he casts an imposing figure, towering at least half a head over most of the men of the regiment. His armour shines in the setting sun, banerunes glowing a fae blue invisible to all but baneblooded eyes.
"Dragoons! Welcome to Antar." His voice rolls over you, a rich baritone laden with authority.
"When His Majesty made the decision to fight the Antari on their home soil, we all knew that we would not be fighting a conventional war. Our enemy is strong in numbers, strong in arms and strong in banecasting. Thus, we cannot face him in open battle."
The Duke pauses for a moment and allows the regiment to grumble. Many had signed up expecting a quick, exciting campaign.
"Where the enemy is strong, we are weak, but we have our own strengths. If we are to win this war, we must fight intelligently. His Majesty has decided upon a campaign of skirmishes and raids. As a result, the majority of you shall be detached in small units to serve at His Majesty's pleasure. Expect to receive your orders over the next two days. Your squadron commanders may require some of you to depart immediately."
Speech delivered, the Duke sweeps his gaze back and forth over the assembled regiment once, as if capturing an image in his mind. Then:
"Regiment, dismissed!"
-
As the assembled regiment disperses, you see Captain Montez making his way through the crowd, handing out orders in thin envelopes to the squadron's five lieutenants, each assigned to command a troop of forty.
As the crowd thins, you see Elson standing in front of you, a wide grin on his face.
"My dear fellow. I have just received the most wonderful intelligence. The fellow I was standing next to tells me that some fine gentlemen have set up an officer's club on the landward side of the town. Seeing as we are like to get our orders soon, what would you say to losing a few dams to me at Tassenswerd before we are compelled to depart for our grim duties?"
1) I have better things to do. I'll explore the town instead.
2) Of course. I would not turn down a chance at leisure before I receive my orders.
SPRING, 602:
With the thawing of the winter snows, the Tierran Army has begun expanding its beachhead around the town of Noringia.
The King has demanded that at least three Regiments of Foot and one Regiment of Horse must be deployed reinforce the forces in Antar by the end of summer.
The Earl of Crittenden, Port-Admiral at Northern Pillars, reports the Calligian Sea to be free of Antari warships.
There is a moment of astonished silence. Clearly, a shortcoming in your education has left you ignorant of something that must be obvious to your two comrades. Elson is all but gawping in surprise at your just-demonstrated innocence. As he opens his mouth to explain, Cazarosta cuts him off with a sharp movement of his hand. For a moment, Cazarosta remains silent, as if he were working up the courage to do something stupid. Then, he speaks, the tone of his voice as flat and cold as a sheet of ice.
"There is little to explain. I am deathborn, someone whom your parents and tutors should have taught you to avoid: the mongrel of noble baneblood and the common fluid of peasantry. The result of the union between a commonborn man whom I never knew and a mother whom they proclaimed whore and adulteress in front of me, before they took her head off."
There is another moment of silence. Elson once again tries to speak, but is silenced by Cazarosta's angry glare.
"I can neither sense nor weave the bane. It is a sign of abomination, a sign that I am a creature unfit to stand in the presence of fine, baneblooded gentlemen like yourselves, for common blood runs in my veins. Is that not so?"
Cazarosta takes a deep breath and stares directly at you.
"To directly answer your question Ortiga, it is because to men like Walken, I am a creature of the Earl of Leoniscourt, the man who, as far as I am concerned, is my real father. It was he who paid for my commission and prevailed upon his old friend the Duke of Cunaris to take the pains of allowing his poor deathborn ward the mercy of serving in his regiment. To men like Walken, the belief that it was my lack of competence that led to the deaths of his marines is as plain as a cannon shot in a chapel. It should be plain to you two as well, and you would say so, were you not to polite to say so to my face."
-
More silence, then, Elson leans forward.
"My dear fellow, on behalf of any of us who might have wronged you I'm sor—"
"Spare me your handcrafted apologies Elson. I have no need of them. This was no more your fault than mine. The Saints decreed that I be this way for a reason. While I would not object to them making the reason why it must be so plain to me, I will follow their plan regardless."
Cazarosta sits wearily on his cot and lays down. His tiredness finally wears through his hard, emotionless facade.
"Now go to sleep."
There is nothing more to say. The Victorious' prize ship and Lieutenant Briggins' prize crew leave at dawn. The next few days are uneventful. The wind is good and the weather is calm.
You spend the time as you did before, aimlessly speaking with sailors, officers and your fellow Dragoons. After another week, the lookout finally announces that he has spotted the bleak grey of the Antari coast on the horizon.
-
What follows is an interminable period of waiting. Having reached the Antari coast and rendezvoused with the rest of the squadron, the Victorious must now wait for the wind to change enough for it to complete the last stretch of its journey, sailing west along the coast to reach the Tierran-held port of Noringia, where you and the rest of your regiment are to disembark and make final preparations before proceeding to the front.
For the next week and a half, you wait, with nothing to do besides fish, read and indulge in idle conversation.
On the tenth day of waiting, the lookout reports a ship approaching from the south: a small, sleek vessel flying the gryphon and tower of Tierra.
-
The vessel is a courier, sent directly from the naval base at Northern Pillars. Aboard are dispatches from Grenadier Square for Captain Montez, as well as orders for Captain Walken.
In addition, the vessel brings news that the Antari merchantman the Victorious had captured has already been bought out. As a result, the prize money due to the ship's crew and members of the boarding party is duly doled out. Your share comes, to your surprise, in a brown leather pouch filled with gold coins.
"No banknotes, lads." the courier explains. "No Tierran banks in Antar. Banknotes ain't much use if you can't cash them."
Cazarosta and Elson each receive their own pouches.
For your part in the boarding action, you are given an officer's share of the prize money. While the 50 crowns you receive is hardly a fortune, it is a comfortable augmentation to your current funds.
-
The next day, the wind changes, and the squadron continues on its way.
Two days later, you finally make landfall on Antari soil.
CHAPTER III
Wherein the cavalry officer makes landfall at the port of NORINGIA and prepares to discharge his MARTIAL DUTY.
Wherein the cavalry officer makes landfall at the port of NORINGIA and prepares to discharge his MARTIAL DUTY.
The Antari port town of Noringia is far from impressive.
Nestled between two low hills, the cluster of strange, steep-roofed houses is hardly a match for the glittering beacon spires of Aetoria or the orderly mills of Tannersburg. However, that has not stopped the town and the bay it presides over from bustling with activity.
As the Victorious sails into Noringia's sheltered harbour, you see a forest of masts. Supply vessels, horse transports, line-of-battle ships and lean frigates like the Victorious, each flying the gryphon and tower of Tierra, crowd the port, looming over the shattered defences which the local lord had tried to use, in vain, to hold off the Royal Army.
It takes almost four hours for the Victorious to weave its way through the shoals, breakwaters and other ships into its assigned place in the harbour. As you pass other vessels, you hear a scattered back and forth of hails, cheers and shouted hellos from your ship to the others. One vessel, a third rate of seventy four guns flying the red and white pennon of a Rear-Admiral over the gryphon and tower, offers no response. Her crew is too busy trying to keep her afloat in spite of the massive, house-sized hole punched into her hull.
-
Montez is on the first boat. As he departs, he orders everyone to assemble with the other squadrons of the regiment in the town square. By the time you say your farewells and are bundled on a boat, it is past midday. Neither Cazarosta or Elson are on the boat with you, leaving you with only the faces of a dozen rankers and a handful of very taciturn oarsmen for company.
The time seems to pass slowly. Every sloshing sweep of the oars seems to last an eternity. After an hour of torturous monotony, your boat finally pulls up to the primitive wooden pier.
You half-expect something momentous to happen as you set your foot down on the weather-beaten planks: some kind of fanfare to announce your arrival on this foreign and hostile land. Yet there is nothing. Thousands of men like you, serving the same king, have already landed on this very pier. Thousands more will likely do the same in the days to come. Your arrival is no special occasion.
As you walk down the pier and join the other assembled Dragoons waiting in the town square, you learn that Captain Montez, like the other squadron commanders, has been called away to a staff meeting with His Grace, the Duke of Cunaris. The assembled regiment has inevitably reduced itself to knots of friends and acquaintances. It seems that no amount of training in the world is going to keep twelve hundred young men standing still in the sun unless someone is yelling at them to do so.
-
You wait in the milling crowd of fighting men for a few minutes, catching glimmers of conversations here and there, but nothing substantial.
Soon, you see the Duke of Cunaris approaching at the head of a party of senior officers. You quickly fall into ranks with the rest of the regiment.
-
The portrait in Fernandescourt does not do the Duke justice. In the full harness of a Knight of Saint Joshua, he casts an imposing figure, towering at least half a head over most of the men of the regiment. His armour shines in the setting sun, banerunes glowing a fae blue invisible to all but baneblooded eyes.
"Dragoons! Welcome to Antar." His voice rolls over you, a rich baritone laden with authority.
"When His Majesty made the decision to fight the Antari on their home soil, we all knew that we would not be fighting a conventional war. Our enemy is strong in numbers, strong in arms and strong in banecasting. Thus, we cannot face him in open battle."
The Duke pauses for a moment and allows the regiment to grumble. Many had signed up expecting a quick, exciting campaign.
"Where the enemy is strong, we are weak, but we have our own strengths. If we are to win this war, we must fight intelligently. His Majesty has decided upon a campaign of skirmishes and raids. As a result, the majority of you shall be detached in small units to serve at His Majesty's pleasure. Expect to receive your orders over the next two days. Your squadron commanders may require some of you to depart immediately."
Speech delivered, the Duke sweeps his gaze back and forth over the assembled regiment once, as if capturing an image in his mind. Then:
"Regiment, dismissed!"
-
As the assembled regiment disperses, you see Captain Montez making his way through the crowd, handing out orders in thin envelopes to the squadron's five lieutenants, each assigned to command a troop of forty.
As the crowd thins, you see Elson standing in front of you, a wide grin on his face.
"My dear fellow. I have just received the most wonderful intelligence. The fellow I was standing next to tells me that some fine gentlemen have set up an officer's club on the landward side of the town. Seeing as we are like to get our orders soon, what would you say to losing a few dams to me at Tassenswerd before we are compelled to depart for our grim duties?"
1) I have better things to do. I'll explore the town instead.
2) Of course. I would not turn down a chance at leisure before I receive my orders.
As of the Spring of the 602nd year of the Old Imperial Era.
Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 14
Rank: Cornet
Wealth: 110
Income: 5
Soldiering: 64%
Charisma: 40%
Intellect: 0%
Reputation: 38%
Health: 75%
Idealism: 66% Cynicism: 34%
Ruthlessness: 37% Mercy: 63%
You have no decorations as of yet.
Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 14
Rank: Cornet
Wealth: 110
Income: 5
Soldiering: 64%
Charisma: 40%
Intellect: 0%
Reputation: 38%
Health: 75%
Idealism: 66% Cynicism: 34%
Ruthlessness: 37% Mercy: 63%
You have no decorations as of yet.
MICHAEL BRIGGINS
(Born 578 OIE) Lieutenant in the Royal Tierran Navy, Third Lieutenant, HMSVictorious, Baneless.
CAIUS D'AL CAZAROSTA
(Born 585 OIE) Cornet of the Royal Dragoon Regiment. Illegitimate son of the Countess of Leoniscourt. Deathborn.
SIR JOHANNES D'AL FINDLAY, DUKE OF CUNARIS
(Born 556 OIE) Lord colonel of the Royal Dragoon Regiment. Knight-Grandmaster of the order of Saint Jerome. A sitting member of the Cortes and head of the noble house of Findlay. Banecaster of the 8th Calibre.
LORD DAVIS D'AL ELSON
(Born 584 OIE) Cornet of the Royal Dragoon Regiment, eldest son of the Baron of Hawthorne , a poor, but politically influential Cortes noble. In possession of aspirations to knighthood. Banecaster of the 3rd Calibre.
SIR ALFRED D'AL MONTEZ
(Born 565 OIE) The Commanding officer of the Third Squadron of the Royal Dragoon Regiment. holds the rank of captain. Baneblood.
HIS TIERRAN MAJESTY, KING MIGUEL I OF HOUSE RENDOWER
(Born 586 OIE) Reigning monarch of the Unified Kingdom of Tierra as well as Duke of Aetoria. Young and impetuous, but capable. Baneblood.
RICHARD WALKEN, RN
(Born 565 OIE) Captain of the List in the Royal Tierran Navy. Commanding officer, HMS Victorious. Baneless
(Born 578 OIE) Lieutenant in the Royal Tierran Navy, Third Lieutenant, HMSVictorious, Baneless.
CAIUS D'AL CAZAROSTA
(Born 585 OIE) Cornet of the Royal Dragoon Regiment. Illegitimate son of the Countess of Leoniscourt. Deathborn.
SIR JOHANNES D'AL FINDLAY, DUKE OF CUNARIS
(Born 556 OIE) Lord colonel of the Royal Dragoon Regiment. Knight-Grandmaster of the order of Saint Jerome. A sitting member of the Cortes and head of the noble house of Findlay. Banecaster of the 8th Calibre.
LORD DAVIS D'AL ELSON
(Born 584 OIE) Cornet of the Royal Dragoon Regiment, eldest son of the Baron of Hawthorne , a poor, but politically influential Cortes noble. In possession of aspirations to knighthood. Banecaster of the 3rd Calibre.
SIR ALFRED D'AL MONTEZ
(Born 565 OIE) The Commanding officer of the Third Squadron of the Royal Dragoon Regiment. holds the rank of captain. Baneblood.
HIS TIERRAN MAJESTY, KING MIGUEL I OF HOUSE RENDOWER
(Born 586 OIE) Reigning monarch of the Unified Kingdom of Tierra as well as Duke of Aetoria. Young and impetuous, but capable. Baneblood.
RICHARD WALKEN, RN
(Born 565 OIE) Captain of the List in the Royal Tierran Navy. Commanding officer, HMS Victorious. Baneless
SPRING, 602:
With the thawing of the winter snows, the Tierran Army has begun expanding its beachhead around the town of Noringia.
The King has demanded that at least three Regiments of Foot and one Regiment of Horse must be deployed reinforce the forces in Antar by the end of summer.
The Earl of Crittenden, Port-Admiral at Northern Pillars, reports the Calligian Sea to be free of Antari warships.
Lithium Flower
Arcane
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Yes but its not like the commoner sergeant who was originally supposed to lead the charge would have fared any better. Unlike what other people suggested, his actual tactics were pretty much on point.
2
Sure, but that just goes to show that both he and the commoner shouldn't have been leading, doesn’t it? If that magic is used all of the time for this stuff then folks blind to it are inherently at a severe disadvantage and will lead folks who might have survived under someone else to their doom.
Lithium Flower
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Reason why I mentioned the NCO is that it is IMO unwarranted to discipline Cazanostra when there was never an expectation for the leader of the boarding party to sense bane, and neither were any of the commissioned Dragoons expected to lead it.
Use of magic in combat is actually pretty rare - remember that banecasters are like a 0.01% of the population and are literally slowly killing themselves to cast, plus the long preparation time mostly relegates magic to being an ambush/trap tactic. Even then, there are not enough baneblooded officers to lead every unit and sub-unit of troops into battle. Cazanostra had relegated the duty to scout for bane to Elson, but the latter didn't see it in time which meant his warning only prevented some casualties.
Incidentally if you lead the boarding party, you can also fail to see it in time if your intelligence is too low. As I said before, I think banebloods do not make an intrinsically better fit for command than any other people and that their duties could very well be relegated to forward scouting or auxillary in the ideal world, but this world can never be because their blood is what makes one an aristocrat which in itself is loaded with not only privileges but also a bunch of naive elitistic ideology.
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We should Lead this party instead leave Codex to let the console I mean banedeath fag to do it and kill the Men. Vote 2 lets work on our Charisma with fellow 
Officers.
Officers.
Lithium Flower
Arcane
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Well, let me rub more salt into the wound for shits and giggles, trivia, and hopefully to encourage some of you guys to buy this game and explore an alternate paths (after this LP ends, of course. Who would want to spoil Codex' invasion of Not-Poland?)
There are 3 opportunities to get decorations in the first book and leading the boarding party (well) is required for one of them.
HOWEVER, even if we tried to take command of the boarding party, we may not have necessarily succeeded (with Caius already gunning for the role, and its not like the NCO can tell which one of us is deathborn.) Secondly, if we had lead the boarding party, there would not be a guarantee that we would do a very good job. Thirdly, doing so could've had some unexpected consequences that could hurt us in the long term.
So your didn't necessarily make a strictly bad decision. Choices and consequences and all that.
There are 3 opportunities to get decorations in the first book and leading the boarding party (well) is required for one of them.
HOWEVER, even if we tried to take command of the boarding party, we may not have necessarily succeeded (with Caius already gunning for the role, and its not like the NCO can tell which one of us is deathborn.) Secondly, if we had lead the boarding party, there would not be a guarantee that we would do a very good job. Thirdly, doing so could've had some unexpected consequences that could hurt us in the long term.
So your didn't necessarily make a strictly bad decision. Choices and consequences and all that.
Maybe in retrospect it is better that we didn't end up on that side of the tongue lashing.
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1.
Baneblood classism definitely contributed to the tongue lashing, but I stand by the logic land lubber shouldn't lead a boarding action. Cazarosta doesn't seem seem to take that into account. Or that he did something similar taking command from the NCO.
Baneblood classism definitely contributed to the tongue lashing, but I stand by the logic land lubber shouldn't lead a boarding action. Cazarosta doesn't seem seem to take that into account. Or that he did something similar taking command from the NCO.
2. Let's waste the money earn with someone else's blood
Also it's weird that Cazarosta think he's not a bastard. Is he delusional or does he has good reason (like a resemblance to his mom's husband)?
Also it's weird that Cazarosta think he's not a bastard. Is he delusional or does he has good reason (like a resemblance to his mom's husband)?
Lithium Flower
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I think he sees the Earl as his father figure, not a biological father. Hence the "as far as I'm concerned." Could be wrong but that is the impression I got.
Lithium Flower
Arcane
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You decide that getting drunk on cheap wine and losing money at Tassenswerd is not your idea of a fun evening. Making your apologies, you return to the rapidly emptying town square to begin your explorations. You pick a direction at random, and leave the square.
After but a few minutes of walking along the broad, cobbled streets, it becomes clear that Noringia is a town barely surviving. Shattered by naval bombardment, then looted by the King's army, the little town's meagre walls and keep had been wrecked almost entirely. As you walk along the outer boundary of the surviving town, you see the pitiful forms of refugees, huddled in the shelter of the shattered walls, their existence only proven by the long shadows thrown upon the battered masonry by the sickly light of their sputtering cookfires.
The sounds of human misery push against your ears like a gentle and piteous wave lapping up against a stone beach. The noise of starving children, grieving women and despondent men assail you from every angle.
-
A figure approaches from the huddled refugees. She is gaunt, almost skeletal. She looks fifty, maybe sixty, although that is the work of destitution and despair, not time. She straightens herself and manages to exhale a half-breath of the air of command despite her piteous state.
"Officer. Southman officer," she begins, in broken and heavily accented Tierran. "Four month ago. Southman soldier come. My son, they kill, my husband, they kill. My daughters, they worse-than-kill." Her expression hardens into one of desperate anger.
"Now I speak for all under walls. They is suffer southman, suffer because your king. Suffer because you. Give coin, coin your king steal from us. Else we starve."
Do you:
1) Be generous: 50 crowns will give them enough for a new start.
2) Be fair: 15 crowns should be enough to feed and clothe them over the winter.
3) Be stingy: 5 crowns will keep them fed for a few weeks, I cannot afford to give any more.
4) Give them nothing: They were on the wrong side, they deserve nothing from the victors.
After but a few minutes of walking along the broad, cobbled streets, it becomes clear that Noringia is a town barely surviving. Shattered by naval bombardment, then looted by the King's army, the little town's meagre walls and keep had been wrecked almost entirely. As you walk along the outer boundary of the surviving town, you see the pitiful forms of refugees, huddled in the shelter of the shattered walls, their existence only proven by the long shadows thrown upon the battered masonry by the sickly light of their sputtering cookfires.
The sounds of human misery push against your ears like a gentle and piteous wave lapping up against a stone beach. The noise of starving children, grieving women and despondent men assail you from every angle.
-
A figure approaches from the huddled refugees. She is gaunt, almost skeletal. She looks fifty, maybe sixty, although that is the work of destitution and despair, not time. She straightens herself and manages to exhale a half-breath of the air of command despite her piteous state.
"Officer. Southman officer," she begins, in broken and heavily accented Tierran. "Four month ago. Southman soldier come. My son, they kill, my husband, they kill. My daughters, they worse-than-kill." Her expression hardens into one of desperate anger.
"Now I speak for all under walls. They is suffer southman, suffer because your king. Suffer because you. Give coin, coin your king steal from us. Else we starve."
Do you:
1) Be generous: 50 crowns will give them enough for a new start.
2) Be fair: 15 crowns should be enough to feed and clothe them over the winter.
3) Be stingy: 5 crowns will keep them fed for a few weeks, I cannot afford to give any more.
4) Give them nothing: They were on the wrong side, they deserve nothing from the victors.
As of the Spring of the 602nd year of the Old Imperial Era.
Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 14
Rank: Cornet
Wealth: 110
Income: 5
Soldiering: 64%
Charisma: 40%
Intellect: 0%
Reputation: 38%
Health: 75%
Idealism: 66% Cynicism: 34%
Ruthlessness: 37% Mercy: 63%
You have no decorations as of yet.
Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 14
Rank: Cornet
Wealth: 110
Income: 5
Soldiering: 64%
Charisma: 40%
Intellect: 0%
Reputation: 38%
Health: 75%
Idealism: 66% Cynicism: 34%
Ruthlessness: 37% Mercy: 63%
You have no decorations as of yet.
5) Ask her if she has some daughters left to tastefully liberate for some coins otherwise beat he hag and move away so 4); those foreign peasants being given freedom and democracy liberty and Monarchy and they still have nerve to ask coins for that. 
Monarchy and they still have nerve to ask coins for that. 
JRIz
Augur
- Joined
- Aug 17, 2015
- Messages
- 502
Two questions: What is our banecasting calibre? When get to lead our own party, will we get a number of men assigned to us or are there plot-related characters that we can make join by doing the right choices?
The previous choice: Could have spent our money in the officer's club and would have surely gotten something for it.
The current choice: 4 of course; we can't go around killing Antaris and then somehow try to make up for it. And those people could be supporting partisans with the money they get from begging for all we know.
The previous choice: Could have spent our money in the officer's club and would have surely gotten something for it.
The current choice: 4 of course; we can't go around killing Antaris and then somehow try to make up for it. And those people could be supporting partisans with the money they get from begging for all we know.
2, as befits a 14-year old idealist.
4
Her country invaded Tierra in the first place, and we weren’t even remotely involved in the sack of this town. I don’t see an obligation to pay her way through just because she’s had it bad, if we fork over money to all refugees we’re going to have none ourselves and wind up getting killed for lack of quality material.
Her country invaded Tierra in the first place, and we weren’t even remotely involved in the sack of this town. I don’t see an obligation to pay her way through just because she’s had it bad, if we fork over money to all refugees we’re going to have none ourselves and wind up getting killed for lack of quality material.
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
Non-existant, as we are not a banecaster, just a baneblood. Former are always the latter but the latter are very rarely the former. Banebloods sense bane, banecasters can actually manipulate it. About 1 in 20 banebloods are casters and about 1 in 100 banebloods are actually powerful casters.
Both.
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