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Completed [LP] Bleed for your Kingdom, officer! Codex plays Guns of Infinity
- Thread starter Lithium Flower
- Start date
There is great danger in this. Those partisans dangling from the bridge, scaling the sides of it. What were they doing? Perhaps readying some sort of low form of sabotage.
Or, perhaps they are meant to delay us in some fashion, for a larger partisan force to come up in the rear and flank us. Or another force to cross the bridge from the other side and fortify it further.
As of now, we have an advantage in that they are ill prepared and did not expect our arrival at this our.
1. Let us charge with what few men we have. Those before us will fall like wheat to the scythe before we ourselves are similarly felled. If the enemy has some manner of trap laid for us, a few will be sacrificed in the springing of it and the greater company will see the ruse and our officers will win the day, with the cannon delivered. Our careers began at a place like this some years ago. Perhaps it is time things came full circle.
Or, perhaps they are meant to delay us in some fashion, for a larger partisan force to come up in the rear and flank us. Or another force to cross the bridge from the other side and fortify it further.
As of now, we have an advantage in that they are ill prepared and did not expect our arrival at this our.
1. Let us charge with what few men we have. Those before us will fall like wheat to the scythe before we ourselves are similarly felled. If the enemy has some manner of trap laid for us, a few will be sacrificed in the springing of it and the greater company will see the ruse and our officers will win the day, with the cannon delivered. Our careers began at a place like this some years ago. Perhaps it is time things came full circle.
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
"Lieutenant Sandoral! Your men with me!" you order as you draw your blade. "At them with the sabre!"
You spur Thunderer into a trot as Sandoral readies his men for the advance. A few of the Antari empty their muskets at you. One of the men behind you tumbles from the saddle, clutching a wound in his thigh.
The rest follow as you ease your mount into a canter, then full gallop. You are barely fifty paces from the start of the bridge now. Your voice goes into a full-throated roar as you cover the last short distance between you and the nearest of the enemy.
"Tierra and Victory!"
-
Then you are among the enemy, rushing past them, bowling them over, hearing their screams of pain as their bones snap like tinder under the iron-shod hooves of your charging horse.
Your men lag behind you, slowing even as you drive deeper into the enemy. Soon, you find yourself almost cut off as the Antari recover their senses and turn to attack you.
They charge at you from every direction, some with muskets held like clubs, others with pitchforks and makeshift spears, one even with what seems to be a looted Tierran land-pattern musket, bayonet still affixed.
It is the man with the bayonet that lunges first. Thankfully, you are ready for him. You beat his lunge aside with the sabre, and then with a quick flick of your wrist, you bring your blade back down, laying open the man's arm with a whip-like stroke.
Before you can finish him off, another comes at you with a clubbed musket. You turn in the saddle, ducking out of the way of his first swing, then grabbing the wooden butt of the man's weapon when he tries for a second. You haul your assailant forward with the man's own weapon, drawing him close enough to bring him down with a single, vicious downward blow.
Then, your men are around you, cutting down the rest of your attackers. What few Antari that remain after that fire off one last defiant volley. One of your men falls, struck through the temple. Another tumbles off of his wounded and panicking mount, over the stone parapet, and into the fast-moving river.
Your men surge forward again, but before they can avenge themselves upon the enemy, the last of the Antari make their escape, throwing away their weapons and fleeing headlong into the forest.
-
Your men keep wary eyes on the forest as the column crosses the bridge. While you may have beaten the partisans once today, there is no reason to think that they might not strike again. So, while the rest of your squadron and the precious waggons cross the bridge, the men of your lead troops sit tense in their saddles, carbines at the ready, waiting for a renewed partisan attack as if a rejuvenated force of foes could burst forth from the trees at any moment.
It never does.
Your column is able to manage the river crossing without further resistance. After spending a few minutes to tend to your wounded and reorder the column, you set off again, still wary, with eyes still wide and hands still white-knuckled around sabre hilts, reins, and carbine locks. There is, however, one change. Your victory on the bridge has given your men a renewed sense of confidence. They remain alert, true, but they do so sitting straighter in the saddle, bucked up by the knowledge that they are capable of facing whatever the partisans throw at them.
By midday, the forest begins to wear thin, and the tension finally begins to lift.
By nightfall, it is gone entirely. It seems abundantly clear to both you and your men that the danger of a renewed partisan attack upon your column has passed for good.
-
The next day, your column continues onward. The forest, which had presented itself as a solid mass of stout wood and darkness just the day before, continues to thin until an hour before midday, when it gives way entirely to rolling green hills overgrown with shaggy summer grass.
For the first time since you have arrived in Antar, you and your men are surrounded by open ground, truly open ground, not the patchwork clearings of forest hamlets or the cleared hinterlands around Noringia, for unlike those pockets of grassland in the sea of trees which forms the southern forests, this is a different sort of region entirely.
Now, you ride into Antar's central plains and towards Kharangia, that mighty fortress city which guards the approach to central Antari proper, that city which must fall if the King's Army is truly to break into the League's rich grain-producing regions.
It is an almost alien sight to you now, the thought of looking to your left or right and not seeing trees but an immense openness, where there is naught but a horizon between green earth and blue sky. It cannot help but fill you with a feeling of…
1) Vulnerability; open ground means we're open to attack.
2) Freedom; we're finally liberated from the confines of forest roads.
3) Disappointment; mostly at the fact that this land moves me little at all.
You spur Thunderer into a trot as Sandoral readies his men for the advance. A few of the Antari empty their muskets at you. One of the men behind you tumbles from the saddle, clutching a wound in his thigh.
The rest follow as you ease your mount into a canter, then full gallop. You are barely fifty paces from the start of the bridge now. Your voice goes into a full-throated roar as you cover the last short distance between you and the nearest of the enemy.
"Tierra and Victory!"
-
Then you are among the enemy, rushing past them, bowling them over, hearing their screams of pain as their bones snap like tinder under the iron-shod hooves of your charging horse.
Your men lag behind you, slowing even as you drive deeper into the enemy. Soon, you find yourself almost cut off as the Antari recover their senses and turn to attack you.
They charge at you from every direction, some with muskets held like clubs, others with pitchforks and makeshift spears, one even with what seems to be a looted Tierran land-pattern musket, bayonet still affixed.
It is the man with the bayonet that lunges first. Thankfully, you are ready for him. You beat his lunge aside with the sabre, and then with a quick flick of your wrist, you bring your blade back down, laying open the man's arm with a whip-like stroke.
Before you can finish him off, another comes at you with a clubbed musket. You turn in the saddle, ducking out of the way of his first swing, then grabbing the wooden butt of the man's weapon when he tries for a second. You haul your assailant forward with the man's own weapon, drawing him close enough to bring him down with a single, vicious downward blow.
Then, your men are around you, cutting down the rest of your attackers. What few Antari that remain after that fire off one last defiant volley. One of your men falls, struck through the temple. Another tumbles off of his wounded and panicking mount, over the stone parapet, and into the fast-moving river.
Your men surge forward again, but before they can avenge themselves upon the enemy, the last of the Antari make their escape, throwing away their weapons and fleeing headlong into the forest.
-
Your men keep wary eyes on the forest as the column crosses the bridge. While you may have beaten the partisans once today, there is no reason to think that they might not strike again. So, while the rest of your squadron and the precious waggons cross the bridge, the men of your lead troops sit tense in their saddles, carbines at the ready, waiting for a renewed partisan attack as if a rejuvenated force of foes could burst forth from the trees at any moment.
It never does.
Your column is able to manage the river crossing without further resistance. After spending a few minutes to tend to your wounded and reorder the column, you set off again, still wary, with eyes still wide and hands still white-knuckled around sabre hilts, reins, and carbine locks. There is, however, one change. Your victory on the bridge has given your men a renewed sense of confidence. They remain alert, true, but they do so sitting straighter in the saddle, bucked up by the knowledge that they are capable of facing whatever the partisans throw at them.
By midday, the forest begins to wear thin, and the tension finally begins to lift.
By nightfall, it is gone entirely. It seems abundantly clear to both you and your men that the danger of a renewed partisan attack upon your column has passed for good.
-
The next day, your column continues onward. The forest, which had presented itself as a solid mass of stout wood and darkness just the day before, continues to thin until an hour before midday, when it gives way entirely to rolling green hills overgrown with shaggy summer grass.
For the first time since you have arrived in Antar, you and your men are surrounded by open ground, truly open ground, not the patchwork clearings of forest hamlets or the cleared hinterlands around Noringia, for unlike those pockets of grassland in the sea of trees which forms the southern forests, this is a different sort of region entirely.
Now, you ride into Antar's central plains and towards Kharangia, that mighty fortress city which guards the approach to central Antari proper, that city which must fall if the King's Army is truly to break into the League's rich grain-producing regions.
It is an almost alien sight to you now, the thought of looking to your left or right and not seeing trees but an immense openness, where there is naught but a horizon between green earth and blue sky. It cannot help but fill you with a feeling of…
1) Vulnerability; open ground means we're open to attack.
2) Freedom; we're finally liberated from the confines of forest roads.
3) Disappointment; mostly at the fact that this land moves me little at all.
As of the Summer of the 609th year of the Old Imperial Era
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 21
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 940
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 24%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 77% Cynicism: 23%
Ruthlessness: 31% Mercy: 69%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 21
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 940
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 24%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 77% Cynicism: 23%
Ruthlessness: 31% Mercy: 69%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sixth Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 56%
Morale: 47%
Loyalty: 39%
Strength: 99%
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 56%
Morale: 47%
Loyalty: 39%
Strength: 99%
One could wonder why the Tierran do not station a group of soldiers at the bridge, since it's such an obvious ambush point.
1, let's keep the paranoia on.
1, let's keep the paranoia on.
2. We now have the ability to use our forces as they should, with tremendous maneuverability. In addition, we can see in many directions, so the ability to change direction or speed is something we can do readily and easily.
Well, not right no, since we're still protecting a bunch of carts. But next time, yes
2.
Lithium Flower said:
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
Loyalty didn't actually increase. Check yourself before you wreck yourself (especially considering how anally retentive you are, Kalarion-kun.)
Morale, on the other hand, does generally increase with successful actions moreso in this game than in Sabres.
I shall leave my mistake without editing as penance for my unbearable act of incorrect posting.
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
Your heart swells and your spirit lifts at the sight of nothing but open ground around you. After the oppressively narrow roads and cramped clearings of the Great Forest, you feel almost like a songbird newly released from a dark cage.
It is a glorious feeling, and at moments when your self-possession begins to wane, it seems as if only your self-control stops you from simply riding out of the column and into the open plain, to run at full gallop across its endless face with the sun forever warm in your face.
-
Your column makes good progress that day, forging forward until it is too dark to do anything except set up camp.
The next morning, you spot a grey haze above the horizon before you, the sort that only comes from smoke rising in vast quantities. By midday, that haze has become a cloud, and you begin to see the low, dark shapes from which the blackest and heaviest of the smoke rises.
By mid-afternoon, the sky grows dark from the smoke, which now begins to blot out the summer sun above you. Finally, you and your men crest the top of one last ridge, and you breathe a most involuntary sigh of relief when you finally have a clear view of what is before you.
Not three or four kilometers ahead of you lies an expanse of canvas tents, staked out and arranged neatly in rows around a large pavilion. Beyond that, there is a hellish expanse of trenches, earthworks, and fighting positions, boiling over with men in the burnt-orange coats of Tierran Line Infantry…
…and not a few hundred paces beyond them, scarred, battered, scorched, but still standing proud and unbreached, are the defiant walls of Kharangia.
The young red-haired man opposite you fixes you with a piercing stare. His expression is intent as his fingers dance around the unbroken wall of his defences, the glow of the candles throwing his grim, hard-featured face into an infernal contrast of light and shadow.
In a single fluid motion, he makes his move. His green eyes flashing, he sets two playing cards of lacquered paper upon the polished wooden table, alongside the two already there, a confident smirk on his lips.
"Sroc-hjunkuswerd," he declares, his voice soft and thunderous in the same breath. "Would any of you gentlemen care to answer?" he asks, louder this time, loud enough for you to hear the light Kentauri burr in his voice.
The two other men at the table withdraw behind the defensive barriers of their own hands, hiding their expressions behind lacquered paper as they consider their next moves.
One of them, like you, wears a jacket of green-grey and blood red, his thin face matched by a perpetually tired expression: Lieutenant-colonel Roland d'al Keane, commanding officer of First Squadron, and with the Duke of Cunaris no longer fit for action, the de facto field commander of the regiment. He looks down at his hand one last time before folding it and shaking his head.
The other man also wears the rank insignia of a lieutenant-colonel, but he wears the burnt orange of the Line Infantry: Winthrop d'al Hartigan, the newly ascended Viscount of Hugh, commander of the First Battalion of the 5th Regiment of Foot. He too backs down.
It had been Keane who extended you an invitation to the evening's game. After all, there could have been no other way for a mere captain to be invited to this particular table, in this particular tent, belonging to the red-haired, green-eyed young man opposite you; for he is Lord Marcus d'al Havenport, the Duke of Havenport's younger brother and Lieutenant-colonel of the Kentauri Highlanders at barely the age of twenty-one.
Lord Marcus looks to you. "Do you seek to face me, Sir Alaric, or will you come to your senses and back down as these gentlemen have? After all, you could still walk away with some bit of coin."
Your winnings for the night sit to your left: a meagre pile of silver and copper. If you back down now, you could almost break even, but if you were to force a showdown, you would need to risk even that bare consolation. However, if you were to prevail, the pot would be yours, and you'd make a tidy profit instead of a slim loss.
You eye the cards before the Kentauri warily. There are few combinations better than Sroc-hjunku in Tassenswerd, and your own hand certainly could not match it. However, all you have to go on is the young nobleman's word, and while Lord Marcus seems confident, it seems far more likely to you that he is merely bluffing.
How will you act?
1) Call his bluff.
2) Back down.
3) I try to turn the tables with a bluff of my own.
SUMMER, 609:
The Duke of Havenport's army begins to lay siege to Kharangia. Initial progress is slow, with Havenport's artillery proving inadequate for the task of breaching Kharangia's walls.
The King's division takes the town of Solokovil on the northern edge of the Great Forest, facing Khorobirit's army.
SPRING, 609:
The army in Antar splits into two divisions. The King's division, consisting of 12 000 men, is to head north, while the Duke of Havenport's division of 11 000 men is to advance west and take the fortified Antari port city of Kharangia.
Two regiments of line infantry, three companies of engineers, and the Experimental Corps are dispatched from the Duke of Havenport's division to reinforce Fort Kharan, an extant outpost at the northern crossing over the River Kharan.
Prince Khorobirit moves his army to the town of Mhillanovil in preparation for the year's campaigning.
WINTER, 609:
The Earl of Weathern is able to assemble a temporary coalition between the various factions of the Cortes for the duration of the war. Rumours abound that both Lord Barithorne, the head of Royal Intelligence in Aetoria, and the Queen-Dowager Gwyneth d'al Havenport were heavily involved in negotiations.
Major Victor d'al Reyes of the 8th Regiment of Foot submits a proposal for the creation of a small force of foot skirmishers armed with rifled muskets. The King responds positively to the proposal and orders the creation of a temporary Experimental Corps of two hundred men, under Major Reyes's command.
SUMMER, 608:
Still mourning the death of his father, Ewen d'al Candless, the new Duke of Wulfram makes his first appearance in the Tierran Cortes. The young Duke aligns himself with the peace faction, throwing the precarious balance of power into disarray.
A board of inquiry is commissioned by Grenadier Square for the purpose of investigating the events of the defeat at Blogia.
AUTUMN, 607:
With the onset of the autumn rains, Prince Khorobirit retreats to winter quarters near the fortress of Januszkovil, on the southern edge of Antar's southern plains.
King Miguel orders the temporary reinforcement of line infantry regiments serving in Antar with men from marine complements serving on-board the ships of the Royal Tierran Navy. The move proves deeply unpopular with the Tierran Admiralty, but it serves to help replenish the Army's depleted ranks with hardened veterans.
Faced with the spectre of food riots an order of magnitude more severe than those of the year before, the Cortes, led by the Earl of Weathern, implements a grain subsidy. With Tierra starved of Antari grain by the war, Tierrans must now buy their grain from Kian merchants, who do not hesitate to raise prices to meet increased demand.
SUMMER, 607:
The Duke of Havenport is officially appointed Lieutenant-general and Councillor-Militant, to replace the late Duke of Wulfram.
Prince Khorobirit begins to send raiding parties south to probe Tierran defences. Anxious to avoid making plain the weakness of his position, the Duke of Havenport orders the Tierran cavalry, under the command of the Duke of Cunaris, to intercept these raids with utmost vigour.
LATE SPRING, 607:
Leading the bulk of Tierran forces in Antar, the Duke of Wulfram fights a larger Antari army led by Prince Mikhail of Khorobirit in a set-piece battle north of the town of Blogia. The Antari score a decisive victory, killing the Duke of Wulfram, many of his senior staff, and nearly three thousand Tierran soldiers.
The battered remnants of the Duke of Wulfram's army retreats to Noringia. King Miguel of Tierra arrives in Antar to take personal command, leaving the Earl of Weathern to lead the government in his stead.
Starved of supplies and reinforcements by the machinations of his rivals within the League Congress, Prince Khorobirit is forced to halt his advance on Noringia.
For the purposes of replacing the men lost at Blogia, the King orders the beginning of limited conscription. Vagabonds, debtors, and the unemployed are now liable to be forced into the army by recruiting agents in Tierra, to be sent to Antar.
It is a glorious feeling, and at moments when your self-possession begins to wane, it seems as if only your self-control stops you from simply riding out of the column and into the open plain, to run at full gallop across its endless face with the sun forever warm in your face.
-
Your column makes good progress that day, forging forward until it is too dark to do anything except set up camp.
The next morning, you spot a grey haze above the horizon before you, the sort that only comes from smoke rising in vast quantities. By midday, that haze has become a cloud, and you begin to see the low, dark shapes from which the blackest and heaviest of the smoke rises.
By mid-afternoon, the sky grows dark from the smoke, which now begins to blot out the summer sun above you. Finally, you and your men crest the top of one last ridge, and you breathe a most involuntary sigh of relief when you finally have a clear view of what is before you.
Not three or four kilometers ahead of you lies an expanse of canvas tents, staked out and arranged neatly in rows around a large pavilion. Beyond that, there is a hellish expanse of trenches, earthworks, and fighting positions, boiling over with men in the burnt-orange coats of Tierran Line Infantry…
…and not a few hundred paces beyond them, scarred, battered, scorched, but still standing proud and unbreached, are the defiant walls of Kharangia.
CHAPTER IV
In which the CAVALRY OFFICER takes part in the SIEGE of the fortress city of KHARANGIA.
In which the CAVALRY OFFICER takes part in the SIEGE of the fortress city of KHARANGIA.
The young red-haired man opposite you fixes you with a piercing stare. His expression is intent as his fingers dance around the unbroken wall of his defences, the glow of the candles throwing his grim, hard-featured face into an infernal contrast of light and shadow.
In a single fluid motion, he makes his move. His green eyes flashing, he sets two playing cards of lacquered paper upon the polished wooden table, alongside the two already there, a confident smirk on his lips.
"Sroc-hjunkuswerd," he declares, his voice soft and thunderous in the same breath. "Would any of you gentlemen care to answer?" he asks, louder this time, loud enough for you to hear the light Kentauri burr in his voice.
The two other men at the table withdraw behind the defensive barriers of their own hands, hiding their expressions behind lacquered paper as they consider their next moves.
One of them, like you, wears a jacket of green-grey and blood red, his thin face matched by a perpetually tired expression: Lieutenant-colonel Roland d'al Keane, commanding officer of First Squadron, and with the Duke of Cunaris no longer fit for action, the de facto field commander of the regiment. He looks down at his hand one last time before folding it and shaking his head.
The other man also wears the rank insignia of a lieutenant-colonel, but he wears the burnt orange of the Line Infantry: Winthrop d'al Hartigan, the newly ascended Viscount of Hugh, commander of the First Battalion of the 5th Regiment of Foot. He too backs down.
It had been Keane who extended you an invitation to the evening's game. After all, there could have been no other way for a mere captain to be invited to this particular table, in this particular tent, belonging to the red-haired, green-eyed young man opposite you; for he is Lord Marcus d'al Havenport, the Duke of Havenport's younger brother and Lieutenant-colonel of the Kentauri Highlanders at barely the age of twenty-one.
Lord Marcus looks to you. "Do you seek to face me, Sir Alaric, or will you come to your senses and back down as these gentlemen have? After all, you could still walk away with some bit of coin."
Your winnings for the night sit to your left: a meagre pile of silver and copper. If you back down now, you could almost break even, but if you were to force a showdown, you would need to risk even that bare consolation. However, if you were to prevail, the pot would be yours, and you'd make a tidy profit instead of a slim loss.
You eye the cards before the Kentauri warily. There are few combinations better than Sroc-hjunku in Tassenswerd, and your own hand certainly could not match it. However, all you have to go on is the young nobleman's word, and while Lord Marcus seems confident, it seems far more likely to you that he is merely bluffing.
How will you act?
1) Call his bluff.
2) Back down.
3) I try to turn the tables with a bluff of my own.
As of the Summer of the 609th year of the Old Imperial Era
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 21
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 955
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 24%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 78% Cynicism: 22%
Ruthlessness: 31% Mercy: 69%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 21
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 955
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 24%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 78% Cynicism: 22%
Ruthlessness: 31% Mercy: 69%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sixth Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 56%
Morale: 47%
Loyalty: 39%
Strength: 100%
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 56%
Morale: 47%
Loyalty: 39%
Strength: 100%
IAGO D'AL BLAYLOCK
(Born 588 OIE) Lieutenant of the Royal Dragoon Regiment. Noted duellist. Baneblood.
LOUIS D'AL ENGLESSEY, EARL OF CASTERMAINE
(Born 558 OIE) General-of-brigade in the Tierran army. Commands an infantry brigade in the King's Army. Baneblood.
SIR CAIUS D'AL CAZAROSTA
(Born 585 OIE) Lieutenant in the King's Army. Commander of Third Squadron, Royal Dragoons. Knight-Companion of the Order of Saint Joshua. Illegitimate son of the Countess of Leoniscourt. Deathborn.
SIR JOHANNES D'AL FINDLAY, DUKE OF CUNARIS
(Born 556 OIE) Colonel-in-chief 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.Commander of the cavalry brigade in the King's Army. Lost the use of his legs at Blogia. Married with three children. Banecaster of the eighth calibre.
ULRIKE ECKHARTS
(Born 458 OIE) An Intendant of the Takaran Empire, assigned as an observer to the Duke of Wulfram's army prior to the Battle of Blogia.
LORD DAVIS D'AL ELSON
(584-607? OIE) Captain of the Royal Dragoon regiment, eldest son of the Baron of Hawthorne, a poor but politically influential Cortes noble. Former commanding officer of Third Squadron, Royal Dragoons. Missing and presumed dead after the Battle of Blogia. Banecaster of the third calibre.
LORD RENARD D'AL FINDLAY
(Born 594 OIE) Lieutenant of the Royal Dragoon regiment, eldest son and heir of the Duke of Cunaris. Baneblood.
EDMUND GARING
(Born 575 OIE) Master gunsmith and junior partner in the Aetorian firm of Garing, Gutierrez, and Truscott. Baneless.
WINTHROP D'AL HARTIGAN, VISCOUNT OF HUGH
(Born 580 OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the 5th Regiment of Foot. Related by marriage to the Elsons of Hawthorne. Banecaster of the second calibre.
ARTHUR D'AL HAVENPORT, DUKE OF HAVENPORT
(Born 573 OIE) Lieutenant-general of the Tierran army. Succeeded the Duke of Wulfram as Councilor-Militant and Lieutenant-general. Baneblood.
LORD MARCUS D'AL HAVENPORT
(Born 588 OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the Kentauri Highland regiment. Younger brother of the Duke of Havenport. Baneblood.
LORD ROLAND D'AL KEANE
(Born 571 OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the Royal Dragoon regiment. Baneblood.
PRINCE BOLESLAW OF KHARANGIA
(Born 533 OIE) Antari lord of Kharangia. Allied with Prince Mikhail of Khorobirit. Banecaster of the second calibre.
PRINCE MIKHAIL OF KHOROBIRIT
9Born 573 OIE) A powerful Antari nobleman and the League of Antar's greatest general. Defeated the Tierran army decisively at Blogia in 607 OIE. Baneblood.
LORD KAROL OF LOCH
(Born 569 OIE) An Antari Church Hussar sworn to the service of Prince Mikhail of Khorobirit. Baneblood.
ROBERT MARION
(Born 581 OIE) Corporal in the Royal Dragoons, bat-man to Captain Alaric d'al Ortiga. Baneless.
HARLANDO D'AL MARRAS, BARON OF MARRAS
(576-607? OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the Royal Dragoons, formerly second in command of the Regiment. Missing and presumed dead after the Battle of Blogia. Baneblood.
HIS TIERRAN MAJESTY, KING MIGUEL 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.
HELENA VIZTELAS
(Born 471 OIE) Captain of the Takaran Imperial Guard. Military attache to Intendant Eckharts.
JAMES D'AL SANDORAL
(Born 592 OIE) Lieutenant of the Royal Dragoon regiment. Baneblood.
"STRELLYK"
(Born ???) Antari freeholder turned partisan. Commands a small group of irregulars raiding the Tierran-controlled stretches of the Imperial Highway. Baneless.
SIR ENRIQUE D'AL HUNTER, VISCOUNT OF WOLFSWOOD
(577-607 OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the Grenadiers. Knight-Captain of the Order of Saint Jerome. Former commanding officer of 2nd Battalion, Grenadier Guards. Killed at the Battle of Blogia. Banecaster of the ninth calibre.
HECTOR D'AL CANDLESS, DUKE OF WULFRAM
(542-607 OIE) Formerly commanding officer of the King's Army in Antar and Duke of the northern duchy of Wulfram. Killed at the Battle of Blogia. Banecaster of the sixth calibre.
(Born 588 OIE) Lieutenant of the Royal Dragoon Regiment. Noted duellist. Baneblood.
LOUIS D'AL ENGLESSEY, EARL OF CASTERMAINE
(Born 558 OIE) General-of-brigade in the Tierran army. Commands an infantry brigade in the King's Army. Baneblood.
SIR CAIUS D'AL CAZAROSTA
(Born 585 OIE) Lieutenant in the King's Army. Commander of Third Squadron, Royal Dragoons. Knight-Companion of the Order of Saint Joshua. Illegitimate son of the Countess of Leoniscourt. Deathborn.
SIR JOHANNES D'AL FINDLAY, DUKE OF CUNARIS
(Born 556 OIE) Colonel-in-chief 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.Commander of the cavalry brigade in the King's Army. Lost the use of his legs at Blogia. Married with three children. Banecaster of the eighth calibre.
ULRIKE ECKHARTS
(Born 458 OIE) An Intendant of the Takaran Empire, assigned as an observer to the Duke of Wulfram's army prior to the Battle of Blogia.
LORD DAVIS D'AL ELSON
(584-607? OIE) Captain of the Royal Dragoon regiment, eldest son of the Baron of Hawthorne, a poor but politically influential Cortes noble. Former commanding officer of Third Squadron, Royal Dragoons. Missing and presumed dead after the Battle of Blogia. Banecaster of the third calibre.
LORD RENARD D'AL FINDLAY
(Born 594 OIE) Lieutenant of the Royal Dragoon regiment, eldest son and heir of the Duke of Cunaris. Baneblood.
EDMUND GARING
(Born 575 OIE) Master gunsmith and junior partner in the Aetorian firm of Garing, Gutierrez, and Truscott. Baneless.
WINTHROP D'AL HARTIGAN, VISCOUNT OF HUGH
(Born 580 OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the 5th Regiment of Foot. Related by marriage to the Elsons of Hawthorne. Banecaster of the second calibre.
ARTHUR D'AL HAVENPORT, DUKE OF HAVENPORT
(Born 573 OIE) Lieutenant-general of the Tierran army. Succeeded the Duke of Wulfram as Councilor-Militant and Lieutenant-general. Baneblood.
LORD MARCUS D'AL HAVENPORT
(Born 588 OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the Kentauri Highland regiment. Younger brother of the Duke of Havenport. Baneblood.
LORD ROLAND D'AL KEANE
(Born 571 OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the Royal Dragoon regiment. Baneblood.
PRINCE BOLESLAW OF KHARANGIA
(Born 533 OIE) Antari lord of Kharangia. Allied with Prince Mikhail of Khorobirit. Banecaster of the second calibre.
PRINCE MIKHAIL OF KHOROBIRIT
9Born 573 OIE) A powerful Antari nobleman and the League of Antar's greatest general. Defeated the Tierran army decisively at Blogia in 607 OIE. Baneblood.
LORD KAROL OF LOCH
(Born 569 OIE) An Antari Church Hussar sworn to the service of Prince Mikhail of Khorobirit. Baneblood.
ROBERT MARION
(Born 581 OIE) Corporal in the Royal Dragoons, bat-man to Captain Alaric d'al Ortiga. Baneless.
HARLANDO D'AL MARRAS, BARON OF MARRAS
(576-607? OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the Royal Dragoons, formerly second in command of the Regiment. Missing and presumed dead after the Battle of Blogia. Baneblood.
HIS TIERRAN MAJESTY, KING MIGUEL 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.
HELENA VIZTELAS
(Born 471 OIE) Captain of the Takaran Imperial Guard. Military attache to Intendant Eckharts.
JAMES D'AL SANDORAL
(Born 592 OIE) Lieutenant of the Royal Dragoon regiment. Baneblood.
"STRELLYK"
(Born ???) Antari freeholder turned partisan. Commands a small group of irregulars raiding the Tierran-controlled stretches of the Imperial Highway. Baneless.
SIR ENRIQUE D'AL HUNTER, VISCOUNT OF WOLFSWOOD
(577-607 OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the Grenadiers. Knight-Captain of the Order of Saint Jerome. Former commanding officer of 2nd Battalion, Grenadier Guards. Killed at the Battle of Blogia. Banecaster of the ninth calibre.
HECTOR D'AL CANDLESS, DUKE OF WULFRAM
(542-607 OIE) Formerly commanding officer of the King's Army in Antar and Duke of the northern duchy of Wulfram. Killed at the Battle of Blogia. Banecaster of the sixth calibre.
SUMMER, 609:
The Duke of Havenport's army begins to lay siege to Kharangia. Initial progress is slow, with Havenport's artillery proving inadequate for the task of breaching Kharangia's walls.
The King's division takes the town of Solokovil on the northern edge of the Great Forest, facing Khorobirit's army.
SPRING, 609:
The army in Antar splits into two divisions. The King's division, consisting of 12 000 men, is to head north, while the Duke of Havenport's division of 11 000 men is to advance west and take the fortified Antari port city of Kharangia.
Two regiments of line infantry, three companies of engineers, and the Experimental Corps are dispatched from the Duke of Havenport's division to reinforce Fort Kharan, an extant outpost at the northern crossing over the River Kharan.
Prince Khorobirit moves his army to the town of Mhillanovil in preparation for the year's campaigning.
WINTER, 609:
The Earl of Weathern is able to assemble a temporary coalition between the various factions of the Cortes for the duration of the war. Rumours abound that both Lord Barithorne, the head of Royal Intelligence in Aetoria, and the Queen-Dowager Gwyneth d'al Havenport were heavily involved in negotiations.
Major Victor d'al Reyes of the 8th Regiment of Foot submits a proposal for the creation of a small force of foot skirmishers armed with rifled muskets. The King responds positively to the proposal and orders the creation of a temporary Experimental Corps of two hundred men, under Major Reyes's command.
SUMMER, 608:
Still mourning the death of his father, Ewen d'al Candless, the new Duke of Wulfram makes his first appearance in the Tierran Cortes. The young Duke aligns himself with the peace faction, throwing the precarious balance of power into disarray.
A board of inquiry is commissioned by Grenadier Square for the purpose of investigating the events of the defeat at Blogia.
AUTUMN, 607:
With the onset of the autumn rains, Prince Khorobirit retreats to winter quarters near the fortress of Januszkovil, on the southern edge of Antar's southern plains.
King Miguel orders the temporary reinforcement of line infantry regiments serving in Antar with men from marine complements serving on-board the ships of the Royal Tierran Navy. The move proves deeply unpopular with the Tierran Admiralty, but it serves to help replenish the Army's depleted ranks with hardened veterans.
Faced with the spectre of food riots an order of magnitude more severe than those of the year before, the Cortes, led by the Earl of Weathern, implements a grain subsidy. With Tierra starved of Antari grain by the war, Tierrans must now buy their grain from Kian merchants, who do not hesitate to raise prices to meet increased demand.
SUMMER, 607:
The Duke of Havenport is officially appointed Lieutenant-general and Councillor-Militant, to replace the late Duke of Wulfram.
Prince Khorobirit begins to send raiding parties south to probe Tierran defences. Anxious to avoid making plain the weakness of his position, the Duke of Havenport orders the Tierran cavalry, under the command of the Duke of Cunaris, to intercept these raids with utmost vigour.
LATE SPRING, 607:
Leading the bulk of Tierran forces in Antar, the Duke of Wulfram fights a larger Antari army led by Prince Mikhail of Khorobirit in a set-piece battle north of the town of Blogia. The Antari score a decisive victory, killing the Duke of Wulfram, many of his senior staff, and nearly three thousand Tierran soldiers.
The battered remnants of the Duke of Wulfram's army retreats to Noringia. King Miguel of Tierra arrives in Antar to take personal command, leaving the Earl of Weathern to lead the government in his stead.
Starved of supplies and reinforcements by the machinations of his rivals within the League Congress, Prince Khorobirit is forced to halt his advance on Noringia.
For the purposes of replacing the men lost at Blogia, the King orders the beginning of limited conscription. Vagabonds, debtors, and the unemployed are now liable to be forced into the army by recruiting agents in Tierra, to be sent to Antar.
1, let's call his bluff! In any case we seemed to be rich enough, even with the money sent to daddy
1. He is obviously from inferior stock, as evidenced by his accent and linguistics.
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
You shake your head. "Forgive me, my lord, but I do believe you are making sport of us."
Lord Marcus's grin grows wider. "Aye, and you would stake your winnings on it?"
You push the small pile of coins forward onto the pot at the centre of the polished oaken table and play your own cards, the best combination you can muster. "I would, sir."
The Kentauri nobleman chuckles. "You're a brave man, Ortiga, and I'm sure that such courage would have won you the day today…"
Lord Marcus flips over his cards one by one, and your expression falters as each is revealed: a six, a five, a two, and a ten.
Hroc-hjunkuswerd.
"…had I been bluffing."
You watch with a sombre expression as the younger man sweeps his spoils over to his side of the table. Thankfully, the Kentauri does not gloat as some more uncouth men do.
"I think that's enough of Tassenswerd for one evening, gentlemen," he declares. "Shall we move on?"
Without any more money to wager, you cannot help but agree.
-
It only takes a few moments for Lord Marcus's personal attendant to clear away the cards and replace them with glasses of Cunarian red claret, tumblers of Kentauri whisky, and bowls of Kian Baiejioue. The air fills with the aroma of the tabac smoke from Lord Marcus's cigar and Keane's pipe. The tension of your last round of Tassenswerd fades, and the table turns quickly to conversation.
You don't have much of a chance to speak. Whatever parity you possessed with these three men as players in a game of cards has now been subsumed by your customary roles. Once again, regardless of the informality of the circumstances, you have become a mere captain in a room with three lieutenant-colonels, and in such august company, you try your best to keep your contributions to a tasteful minimum.
Within minutes, the topic inevitably turns to the business of the army and the ongoing siege.
"I shall hope that this damnable waiting does not last much longer," Hartigan remarks at one point. "Called up my men for inspection this morning, nearly a third had some sort of fever or runs. Almost feels like my battalion's rotting from the inside out, just sitting here, wallowing in our own filth, with nothing to do except drink and let their drill grow dull."
Hartigan has a point. A siege camp does little for the health of its occupants. In the month and a half since you've arrived at the siege camp, your own men have suffered from illness and inaction as well.
"Keeping the men ready would be easier if those Saints-be-damned partisans didn't make off with half of our supplies," Keane grouses. "We'd at least have enough powder and shot to do musket drill then."
"Doesn't your brother have his Experimental Corps working chastising those rascals?" Hartigan asks Lord Marcus as the Line Infantry officer idly swirls around the last bit of claret in his glass.
"The King's Experimental Corps," the Kentauri corrects. "Arthur insists it was His Majesty's idea. I don't see the point of it myself. The reports say they're making progress, but I certainly haven't seen any improvement."
With that there is a momentary lull in the conversation as Keane refills his pipe and Hartigan refills his glass. If you have any questions, now would probably be the best time to ask them.
1) Bring up a few topics:
Ask about the Experimental Corps.
Ask about the progress of the siege.
Inquire about the partisans and the supply situation.
2) Say nothing.
Lord Marcus's grin grows wider. "Aye, and you would stake your winnings on it?"
You push the small pile of coins forward onto the pot at the centre of the polished oaken table and play your own cards, the best combination you can muster. "I would, sir."
The Kentauri nobleman chuckles. "You're a brave man, Ortiga, and I'm sure that such courage would have won you the day today…"
Lord Marcus flips over his cards one by one, and your expression falters as each is revealed: a six, a five, a two, and a ten.
Hroc-hjunkuswerd.
"…had I been bluffing."
You watch with a sombre expression as the younger man sweeps his spoils over to his side of the table. Thankfully, the Kentauri does not gloat as some more uncouth men do.
"I think that's enough of Tassenswerd for one evening, gentlemen," he declares. "Shall we move on?"
Without any more money to wager, you cannot help but agree.
-
It only takes a few moments for Lord Marcus's personal attendant to clear away the cards and replace them with glasses of Cunarian red claret, tumblers of Kentauri whisky, and bowls of Kian Baiejioue. The air fills with the aroma of the tabac smoke from Lord Marcus's cigar and Keane's pipe. The tension of your last round of Tassenswerd fades, and the table turns quickly to conversation.
You don't have much of a chance to speak. Whatever parity you possessed with these three men as players in a game of cards has now been subsumed by your customary roles. Once again, regardless of the informality of the circumstances, you have become a mere captain in a room with three lieutenant-colonels, and in such august company, you try your best to keep your contributions to a tasteful minimum.
Within minutes, the topic inevitably turns to the business of the army and the ongoing siege.
"I shall hope that this damnable waiting does not last much longer," Hartigan remarks at one point. "Called up my men for inspection this morning, nearly a third had some sort of fever or runs. Almost feels like my battalion's rotting from the inside out, just sitting here, wallowing in our own filth, with nothing to do except drink and let their drill grow dull."
Hartigan has a point. A siege camp does little for the health of its occupants. In the month and a half since you've arrived at the siege camp, your own men have suffered from illness and inaction as well.
"Keeping the men ready would be easier if those Saints-be-damned partisans didn't make off with half of our supplies," Keane grouses. "We'd at least have enough powder and shot to do musket drill then."
"Doesn't your brother have his Experimental Corps working chastising those rascals?" Hartigan asks Lord Marcus as the Line Infantry officer idly swirls around the last bit of claret in his glass.
"The King's Experimental Corps," the Kentauri corrects. "Arthur insists it was His Majesty's idea. I don't see the point of it myself. The reports say they're making progress, but I certainly haven't seen any improvement."
With that there is a momentary lull in the conversation as Keane refills his pipe and Hartigan refills his glass. If you have any questions, now would probably be the best time to ask them.
1) Bring up a few topics:
Ask about the Experimental Corps.
Ask about the progress of the siege.
Inquire about the partisans and the supply situation.
2) Say nothing.
As of the Summer of the 609th year of the Old Imperial Era
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 21
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 953
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 24%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 78% Cynicism: 22%
Ruthlessness: 31% Mercy: 69%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 21
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 953
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 24%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 78% Cynicism: 22%
Ruthlessness: 31% Mercy: 69%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sixth Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 56%
Morale: 43%
Loyalty: 39%
Strength: 100%
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 56%
Morale: 43%
Loyalty: 39%
Strength: 100%
1.
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