I Have Tasted Command, And I Cannot Give It Up: Lords of Infinity

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Lord Cyrahzax: Oct 11, 2012

Call the militias forward and send them in.

quote:

The militias are not your best-drilled or best-equipped force, but they are your most numerous, and against an enemy no better ordered or armed, they may well be the best option. After all, you have little doubt that Wulfram still has professional soldiers held somewhere as a final reserve, and you'd rather not entirely deplete the fighting strength of your own professional soldiers before he commits them.

With warehouses full of nautical stores in every direction, it doesn't take long for someone to bring up a new set of ship's gangplanks long enough to cover the gap betwixt the Royalist-held and Wulframite-held sections of the shore batteries, and wide enough to allow for the passage of a practicably sized assault force. Indeed, the greater problem seems to be less securing a means of bridging the gap than assembling the force which is to go over it. The militias, for all of their continuing enthusiasm, are no easier to marshal and direct, and it's only with the greatest difficulty that you're able to bring them into position, having them take up the improvised bridgeways which are to give them access to the enemy.

An enemy which now, of course, is well aware of your intentions. One can hardly hide the preparations needed for an enterprise of this magnitude, not when one is putting them into action barely two hundred paces away from their forward picquets. They too have been preparing for your attack.

At long last, all is in readiness, on your side and on theirs. There's nothing for it but to give the order to advance.

quote:

The enemy open fire the instant your forces begin moving forward. It's nothing which anyone with any real understanding of the word might call a volley, more a splattering of flame and smoke, a ragged splash of thunder, crackling up and down the great mass of the enemy as they fire off their weapons one by one. It is a ragged, slovenly thing.

But that doesn't mean it's harmless.

Even a badly aimed shot may yet find a target, and with so many in the air, some of them do. Here and there, you can see parts of the leading elements of your attacking force pitch forward or fall, only to be trampled by their advancing fellows behind them. Some of your militias answer in kind, with a slapdash volley of their own�to similar effect.

But the same cannot be said of the volley that follows.

This time, the sound of musketry comes not from in front of you, but to the side, from the roof of the Shipping Exchange�and this time, it comes not as a trickle but as a single thunderclap. At once, dozens of Wulframites fall dead, as if cut down by the blow of a single invisible hammer. At once, the enemy seems to almost recoil, as if the blow had been to their heads as well. A formation of professionals wouldn't have reacted thus, but most of the mass you're facing are but a few hours removed from workshops and market stalls. They're not accustomed to such reversals.

Most, but not all. Almost immediately, voices begin to rise from the confused throng�sharp, commanding voices, rallying those around them, bringing in at least some semblance of order.

The enemy's militias respond, but only for a few moments�for the fire from the Shipping Exchange resumes again, and the enemy leaders fall silent, one by one, having exposed themselves to the deadly aim of Reyes' sharpshooters.

By now, your own militias have begun to cross, and the enemy is in little shape to oppose them. The first shock rattled them, the second has all but hamstrung them. Already, some are beginning to flee, leaving their more stout-hearted fellows behind in besieged, shrinking knots. Your own forces, seeing victory within their grasp, rush forward to overwhelm the last holdouts with a great, bestial roar.

Within moments, it is over. The remaining Wulframite militias are in full flight. The more loyal run for the defences of their final redoubt. The rest disappear into the streets.

Another section of the shore batteries has fallen. Only one more remains.

quote:

Only one section of the shore batteries remains in Wulframite hands. Only one small redoubt still shields the Duke of Wulfram's evacuation from your forces. If you can take that last section, then you'll be able to command the whole of the docks from its ramparts. Not even a rowboat would be able to moor or shove off from Aetoria's piers without your say-so. Wulfram and Crittenden would be compelled to end their evacuation. Those of their forces still trapped in the city would be obliged to surrender.

Take that one last section, and the battle is over. Take that one last section, and the Queen will have her victory.

It's a truth which the enemy knows, too. From what you can see of their positions, it's clear that they don't plan to give up without a fight. The approaches are covered with high barricades of timber and stones, overlooked by cross-fires and makeshift towers. It's a position strong enough to make even the most ragged defenders a formidable foe, and the enemy you face is far from that: even from here, you can see the massed orange coats of the Northern fleet's Marines, their bayonets fixed and glittering in the afternoon sun. Around them, the remnants of Wulfram's street militias, evidently still keen to avenge their latest defeat at your hands.

Your depleted, exhausted forces would have to brave every successive layer of defence, all whilst sustaining not the slapdash fire of half-trained militia, but the massed volleys of professional infantry. Worse yet, they would have to do it without the support of Reyes and his sharpshooters, for the enemy's positions are now far beyond the range of even rifled muskets firing from the roof of the Shipping Exchange. Any general assault would necessarily be vicious, terrible work, with an uncertain chance of success. Even if your forces prevail, they would do so only by wading knee-deep through the blood of their comrades.

But that doesn't mean there are no other options.

quote:

You cannot imagine that the Wulframite force now trapped in the last remaining section of the shore batteries should wish to be subjected to the bloody eventuality of a general assault, especially given the fact that you know from long experience that men who have just fought their way into a fortified position at great cost are rarely inclined to take prisoners�or treat the captives they do take particularly well. If you're able to make contact with the Wulframite commander, perhaps you'd be able to persuade him that it would be far better for all involved if he and his forces were to surrender without a fight.

It would be a difficult task, of course. Wulfram and his allies would know that you might consider such a course of action, and you hardly have any doubt that they would have left behind an officer specifically inclined to resist such an approach. Yet if you're unable to negotiate such a surrender, then you would have no choice but to order a general assault, with forces you suspect to be far too weak for the task�or with forces which may well be insufficient for the task�or else simply dig in and allow Wulfram to evacuate the remainder of his forces unmolested.

I must confer with my officers.

Let us try to negotiate their surrender.

Only a general assault will end this quickly.

We have no choice but to dig in and wait the enemy out.

quote:

As of the Winter of the 618 of the Old Imperial Era:

Sir Alaric d'al Sancroix, Baron Somewhere Awful
Lieutenant-colonel, Royal Dragoons
Age: 46

Current Funds: 400 Crown
Debts: 20203 Crown

Bi-Annual Income (Personal): 270 Crown
Bi-Annual Estate Revenues: 714 Crown

Bi-Annual Estate Expenses: 425 Crown
Bi-Annual Interest Payments: 404 Crown

Total Net Income (Next Six Months): 155 Crown

Soldiering: 20%
Charisma: 46%
Intellect: 55%

Reputation: 34%
Health: 40%

Idealism: 55%Cynicism: 45%
Ruthlessness: 74%Mercy: 26%

You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear Bane-hardened armour and wield a Bane-runed sword.

You can speak, read, and write the Antari language.

You have only a little influence among the Royalist Faction.

Your known Royalist loyalties have made you somewhat unwelcome among the Wulframite Faction.

You have some small amount of pull at Grenadier Square.

# ? Jul 23, 2023 19:17

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# ? May 18, 2024 18:38

Rogue AI Goddess: May 10, 2012; I enjoy the sight of humans on their knees.
That was a joke... unless..?

I must confer with my officers.

# ? Jul 23, 2023 19:45

Regallion: Nov 11, 2012

Could use some advice here!

# ? Jul 23, 2023 20:45

Yaoi Gagarin: Feb 20, 2014

Talk to our officers

# ? Jul 23, 2023 20:59

BraveLittleToaster: May 5, 2019

Confer with our good buddies (officers).

# ? Jul 23, 2023 21:09

Gun Jam: Apr 11, 2015

Charge!

# ? Jul 23, 2023 21:14

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Regallion posted:

Could use some advice here!

# ? Jul 23, 2023 21:16

Lord Cyrahzax: Oct 11, 2012

I wasn't sure if it was a free option, but it looks like it's got a good amount of support here:

I must confer with my officers.

quote:

No sooner do you put the question to your officers, you receive an answer.

"With respect, sir, the correct course of action ought to be obvious," Blaylock declares. "We should prepare for a general assault at soonest possibility."

"Might we not at least entertain the possibility that we could compel the enemy to surrender first?" Garret asks. "I think enough of the Queen's subjects have died messily today, traitor or otherwise."

"Traitor or otherwise?" Blaylock replies, voice on the very edge of outrage. "The men in there have made their decision, and they know they're likely as not to hang for it. If you think they might be compelled to play the lamb and lay down their arms, then you're welcome to that delusion, but the fact is that every moment we spend debating this matter is another moment the Duke of Wulfram and his traitor friends can use to shuffle away more of their traitor soldiers!"

"The regiment will fight if the order is given, sir," Sandoral adds. "However, "Although I must wonder if such a course of action is wise, given our current state. However, if we are to attack such a position, it will have to be with the whole of our forces, not just the Dragoons."

"My Grenadiers will go up, if you require them to," Captain Riley replies, with an air of confidence as insistent as it is forced. "We've taken worse losses before and won the day despite of it."

"My men will offer what support they can," Reyes adds. "I fear that will not be a great deal. There are no buildings tall enough to overlook the enemy position from here. We will be shooting up at them."

"What about the militias?" you ask.

"They'll still fight," the Intendant replies. "At least, the ones who are left. Whether they shall have any meaningful effect on the enemy however�" He shakes his head.

You nod, turning your officers' reports over in your head. It's clear that you still possess quite a formidable force, one which may well be able to carry the enemy's last position by storm. Indeed, given the uncertain outcome of any attempt at parley, it may in fact be your best option. At least some of your officers certainly seem to think so. Still, if the decision is to be made, you'll be the one who has to make it. You command here, and the final word must be yours.

If you believe it ought to be given.

Let us try to negotiate their surrender.

Only a general assault will end this quickly.

We have no choice but to dig in and wait the enemy out.

It was. My bad!

# ? Jul 23, 2023 21:51

BraveLittleToaster: May 5, 2019

Only a general assault will end this quickly.

Let us resolve this with a goodly slaughter.

# ? Jul 23, 2023 21:56

Yaoi Gagarin: Feb 20, 2014

Kill em all

# ? Jul 23, 2023 22:04

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FLTchCiC0T0

# ? Jul 23, 2023 22:21

Omniphile: Apr 5, 2010; Love? Justice? Pah! I'll crush them all!

I doubt they'll be up for parley with the guy who just thoroughly backstabbed them. Murder time.

# ? Jul 23, 2023 22:21

Rogue AI Goddess: May 10, 2012; I enjoy the sight of humans on their knees.
That was a joke... unless..?

You know they say that all officers are created equal, but you look at us and you look at Wulframites and you see that statement is not true. See, normally if you do a general assault, you got a 50/50 chance of winning. But Alaric d'al Sancroix has a Ruthlessness score of 74%! That leaves Wulframites with 26%, AT BEST, to beat him. Then you add Illegitimate Caz to the mix, and Wulframites chances of winning drastically go down. See, in three-way fight, one has got a 33% chance of winning, but Caz has a 62% Discipline score and he's sure as hell gonna try! So Wulframites take their 33% chance, minus Alaric's 26% chance, and that leaves them with 8 percent. But then you add Alaric's 74% chance of winning, and then add Caz's 62%, and the Dragoons have got 136% chance of winning the general assault. See Wulframites, the numbers don't lie, and they spell disaster for you at the general assault.

# ? Jul 23, 2023 22:52

Dong Quixote: Oct 3, 2015; Fun Shoe

# ? Jul 23, 2023 23:45

sullat: Jan 9, 2012

Yeah maybe there's some silver-tongued officer that can talk them down but it ain't us. assault!

# ? Jul 24, 2023 00:11

AJ_Impy: Jun 17, 2007; SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?; Yam Slacker

Let's 'negotiate'. Musketry, bayonets and grenades are our opening offer. General Assault.

# ? Jul 24, 2023 11:08

Lord Cyrahzax: Oct 11, 2012

Only a general assault will end this quickly.

quote:

Not all of your officers approve when you make your decision known to them, but none of them argue the point. You all know time is of the essence, and if you're to end matters quickly, then you have none to spare for debating how such an end is to be achieved. So, you dismiss your subordinates to your commands and turn your attention to the final preparations to be made before the assault.

Only to find that very few are necessary.

In truth, you realise that the factors which created the circumstances for the assault you just ordered are ones which have been set already�some years in the making, some cemented only a few minutes ago. Some of those circumstances have been affected by your past actions, as far back perhaps as your time in Antar. Others had progressed in trajectories far beyond your influence.

Well, you suppose they're all beyond your influence now, for the circumstances of the impending action are much like the trajectory of a cannonball. Having already been cast and loaded and aimed, you can only go through the final mechanical steps of putting the linstock to the touch-hole and waiting for the result.

No matter of tactical skill, this, or inspired leadership; merely common sense and a basic understanding of the forces under your control:

Supported by Reyes' sharpshooters, your Dragoons and the street militias will attack head-on, pinning the enemy so that the Grenadiers may move along the street to attack the enemy position in the flank, so that they might hopefully take advantage of their specialty to overcome a distracted foe long enough to break into their rear and render their position untenable.

It isn't a plan without risk, and it will certainly cost you significant losses, but it's the best plan you might allow given the forces at your disposal; it will have to do.

Soon, your assaulting forces are in position. There's no time left for further introspection, no time for some clever ruse or space for an inspired manoeuvre. Now, it's all up to those you've led and preserved until this point. Now, all you can do is step forward.

And give the order to advance.

quote:

It cannot help but remain a surreal experience to see so climactic a scene set in motion by your orders, only to observe the course of its execution as a passive observer. It isn't the first time your decisions have determined the outcome of an action; indeed, you had in some ways gotten used to the idea of your decisions having some great effect on others, first as a fighting officer, then as a Lord of the Cortes.

But in those cases, you'd always been there in the midst of it all, sharing the peril and bearing the consequences of your own actions. Here, it occurs to you that little harm could come to you from so seemingly distant a position, for although you cannot be more than three or four hundred paces from the enemy, your advancing forces might well be on the other side of the city for how little you're able to perceive them, for how they quickly they seem to diminish from individuals with expressions on their faces and light in their eyes to almost abstract symbols�little more than counters on a map.

Then there's a great roar of musketry. The enemy have opened fire. Your own forces answer with a thundering volley of their own, your assaulting party's distant firelocks drowned out by the sharp crack of Reyes' Skirmishers much closer at hand. Even what little you can see before seems to be gone, as the battle which you've ordered now slips out of not only your control, but your perception. Leaving only the powder-fog, the clash of steel on steel, and the sound of a thousand voices fighting, killing.

And dying.

quote:

For a moment, you consider intervening directly, the sound of battle drawing you in as it carries on, concealed behind the smoke and the shadow of the barricades. The idea of striding in, sword in hand, as you once did draws you forward like a lodestone, possessed of a force which seems to grow stronger with every single moment.

You are a Queen's Officer, and a Knight of the Red besides, surely your place ought to be in the midst of the action, alongside the men you command, especially now that there's no need for a high command to coordinate a subsequent action. The day will be decided here, and although your personal involvement may yet serve to improve the outcome, your survival is now only a matter of your own interest, such as it is.

At worst, you may well die. Even at best, you will only be one man fighting amongst many�

Yet you will be amongst those you lead, and facing the enemy with a weapon in your hand. Perhaps that is reason enough.

I must lead my command in person. It's the least they deserve.

I've waited too long to close with the enemy! No longer!

I'll not hazard my skin for a mere gesture.

No, I'll not fight if I don't have to.

quote:

As of the Winter of the 618 of the Old Imperial Era:

Sir Alaric d'al Sancroix, Baron Somewhere Awful
Lieutenant-colonel, Royal Dragoons
Age: 46

Current Funds: 400 Crown
Debts: 20203 Crown

Bi-Annual Income (Personal): 270 Crown
Bi-Annual Estate Revenues: 714 Crown

Bi-Annual Estate Expenses: 425 Crown
Bi-Annual Interest Payments: 404 Crown

Total Net Income (Next Six Months): 155 Crown

Soldiering: 20%
Charisma: 46%
Intellect: 55%

Reputation: 34%
Health: 40%

Idealism: 55%Cynicism: 45%
Ruthlessness: 74%Mercy: 26%

You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear Bane-hardened armour and wield a Bane-runed sword.

You can speak, read, and write the Antari language.

You have only a little influence among the Royalist Faction.

Your known Royalist loyalties have made you somewhat unwelcome among the Wulframite Faction.

You have some small amount of pull at Grenadier Square.

# ? Jul 24, 2023 13:56

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Murder time, let's goooooooooooooo

# ? Jul 24, 2023 14:09

Regallion: Nov 11, 2012

I must lead my command in person. It's the least they deserve.

That doesn't mean "Go sword some guys" since we didn't put on the armor, that just means "Do a little shouting while in the middle of your guys"

# ? Jul 24, 2023 14:29

Rogue AI Goddess: May 10, 2012; I enjoy the sight of humans on their knees.
That was a joke... unless..?

Violence calls.

# ? Jul 24, 2023 14:37

Gun Jam: Apr 11, 2015

Xander77 posted:

Murder time, let's goooooooooooooo

# ? Jul 24, 2023 15:51

Yaoi Gagarin: Feb 20, 2014

Blood for the blood god

# ? Jul 24, 2023 19:49

Omniphile: Apr 5, 2010; Love? Justice? Pah! I'll crush them all!

We wouldn't miss out on front row seats to the mayhem, right?

# ? Jul 24, 2023 22:27

BraveLittleToaster: May 5, 2019

VostokProgram posted:

Blood for the blood god

# ? Jul 24, 2023 22:28

sullat: Jan 9, 2012

yeah let's put our... 20% soldiering to good use? By taking a bullet meant for someone else?

Or let's not risk our skin.

# ? Jul 25, 2023 00:51

AJ_Impy: Jun 17, 2007; SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?; Yam Slacker

We need every bit of meat for the grinder including our own.

# ? Jul 25, 2023 02:59

Dong Quixote: Oct 3, 2015; Fun Shoe

VostokProgram posted:

Blood for the blood god

# ? Jul 25, 2023 05:01

Lord Cyrahzax: Oct 11, 2012

I am interpreting most of these votes wanting to close with the enemy rather than leading in person, so here we go:

I've waited too long to close with the enemy! No longer!

quote:

You cannot deny that part of you had rejoiced when open battle came to Aetoria's streets. For all the ruin that it has caused, some part of you had all but welcomed the prospect of fighting within the capital, for it meant that the games of politics and intrigue which you were so inexperienced in had given way to open war. It meant that the day was not to be decided by Cortes speeches and club-room dealings, but in the circumstances with which you're most familiar.

It meant that you would be able to act, not in the ill-fitting clothes of a statesman, but in the boots and coat of a soldier, with the enemy before you and a blade in your hand.

Yet even the day of battle has only seen that dark, quiet desire frustrated. You've been more bureaucrat than soldier today, shuffling about squadrons and companies like a clerk might shuffle paper. Your buried hopes have been stymied by your need to maintain overall command, to coordinate the forces at your disposal, to look on as other men fought and killed and died on your order.

No longer. There are no more troops to coordinate, no more overall command to maintain.

So, you take up your grip on your sword and straighten your helmet as you step forward towards the fray. You don't know what you'll encounter or what the disposition of your forces is behind the powder-fog. But you do know that the moment of decision is nigh, and that the enemy is before you.

And as you tighten your grip on your sabre and press forward, that seems more than enough.

quote:

The battle you advance into is a chaos of shouts and smoke, of the echoing clash of steel and the thunder of pistol-shot. It's all around you, the sound of two great bodies of men fighting for their lives. Yet even so, proximity has brought you no understanding. The whirl of the battle around you is as incomprehensible up close as it was from afar, and you can make neither heads nor tails of its course. Here, you see the outline of a body of men pressing forward; there, you see shapes in retreat. Whether they're yours or the enemy's, you cannot tell. The fog has broken the battle up into a hundred different death-grapples, without order or direction.

If you mean to seize victory here, then you must give it some.

"Saints guard the Queen!" you shout. "To me! To me!"

It works. Figures come out of the fog, figures that quickly resolve themselves into the fragments of your assault force. You lead them forward�or at least in the direction you think is forward, shouting all the while. "To me! Dragoons! Grenadiers! Queen's men! To me!"

Through a break in the smoke, you catch a glimpse of a shadow, enough to orient yourself as your forces rally to your shouts. You press on through the powder-fog, to where you know the enemy must be.

And sure enough, you find them, for your shouts have attracted the foe as well as your own soldiers. Now it is they who come out of the fog, bayonets fixed, faces contorted with battle-fury as they bear down upon you and your nascent offensive. A pistol shot rings out. One of them falls. Another takes his place. One of the enemy Marines stops to bring his musket to his shoulder, but his efforts are rewarded only by the silent snap of an empty weapon. He has fired already, and had forgotten in the confusion.

The others press past him, evidently possessed of no desire to stand off and resort to fire. No, they mean to settle the matter with steel.

So it is with steel that you meet them.

quote:

Crittenden's Marines approach with hard eyes and fixed bayonets, with the confidence of trained and veteran fighting men who know in their hearts that they're the better of any who might stand in their path.

It takes you only a moment's observation to realise how outmatched you are. If you were facing one such attacker, you might stand a chance, but not against the four standing before you, advancing with their bayonets at the ready as they spread out and close in.

The first attack comes from the left, dark eyes behind a razor-tipped bayonet reaching high for your face. You batter it aside with your sabre, only to see a second spike of glittering metal reach for your thigh. Frantically, you stumble backwards, trying to win space without losing your balance, even as you ward off a third thrust from the right, stopping it a mere finger's breadth from your ribs.

That's when the fourth bayonet drives into you, a spike of white-hot pain through your thigh.

You feel your leg beginning to give way as your attacker withdraws the steel spike, now red with your blood. Your vision blurs as you sway on unsteady feet, your body fighting a losing battle to keep your sabre and your balance. With one last spike of agony, your wounded leg collapses out from under you. The hard ground slams into your side with a teeth-jarring crash.

Through the haze of pain, you see your attackers advance, three of them moving on as one stands over you, impossibly large musket raised, the terrible razor tip of his bayonet poised directly over your heart�

That does seem like a 20% Soldiering performance

quote:

A pistol cracks, loud enough to cut through the haze and confusion. Your would-be killer falls, his musket clattering away. His companions fall back, suddenly assailed on all sides by figures surging out of the fog, men of your assault force, your allies.

Strong hands put you upright, steadying you long enough to regain your balance�and your weapon, but by the time you regain your bearings, your allies are already moving on, pursuing an enemy which has suddenly found itself outnumbered and outmatched. They fall back, disappearing into the grey haze, and your men follow. All around, you can see the dim outlines of similar scenes: your men going forward, the enemy being driven back�until they're met by the shadowy shapes of your flanking force, advancing the other way.

Resistance doesn't last long after that, now that you've cut through the heart of the enemy force. Within moments, they're giving up the fight as the impossibility of their position becomes clear. One by one, and then in small groups, they throw down their weapons. The sound of fighting fades.

It takes a moment for your men to realise precisely what has happened, for the sudden surge of relief and elation to erupt into a low cheer as they stand tall, now victorious over the surrendering enemy. The position is yours, the shore batteries are taken.

You've won.

But it looks like the Dragoons were just good enough!

quote:

It is sunset before an accurate tally of your prisoners can be reported: a final reckoning of the result of the day's fighting.

It isn't what it might have been; under normal circumstances, the capture of a battalion of Crittenden's Marines and a considerable number of Wulframite militia would no doubt have been a matter for some congratulation. Yet as substantial as such a bag might seem at first glance, you know that they were but a small proportion of Wulfram's forces. The rebellious Duke has gotten most of his force away, despite your best efforts.

Worse yet, Wulfram himself has eluded capture, as have his inner circle. A victory this may be, but it's one which brings with it an end to the hope that the whole matter might be settled quickly. Wulfram may have been driven out of Aetoria, but he still possesses a considerable force under his direct command, and a powerful fleet as well. There's little doubt that he'll soon put such resources to use, regrouping at some more secure base of operations, seeking out his allies and sympathisers in the country and raising riot and rebellion anew.

You may have eked a victory out of the day's battle, but it will only be the first of many: the opening stages of a civil war, one fought on Tierran soil.

And one which has already claimed its first great effusion of Tierran blood.

quote:

The dead and wounded are littered along the whole length of the shore batteries and beyond. Already, the stink of decay has begun to overpower the smell of powder. The drying blood is sticky and rotting under the tread of your feet. Flies and carrion birds have already begun to descend, along with the first knots of looters�for some evidently aren't so shocked by the visitation of open war upon their home streets to seek some profit amongst the bodies of those now lying in them.

You set some of your men to driving off the human scavengers, and perhaps some of the birds too. Others, you set to finding and seeing to the wounded. A last group, you set to tallying and identifying the dead. It is this last detail who you shall expect to have the greatest difficulty. In the dimming light of the early evening, it's difficult to match a severed limb to its owner, or to tell the difference betwixt the body of an orange-coated Marine and an orange-coated Grenadier. The dead of the street militias, you suspect, may well never be sorted properly.

Some of the dead are far easier to identify: those in the grey-green and red of your own regiment, their broken bodies standing out amidst the carnage like welts on a flogged back. You can see a dozen or more from where you're standing, some wounded and some dead. You have little doubt that there are more elsewhere. Your regiment has suffered badly in the day's fighting, though not as badly as some: the majority of the men you started the day with are still on their feet�including a great number of your officers.

That, at least, is cause to be thankful. The Queen's Army shall have great need of such soldiers in the days ahead.

And in the battles to come.

quote:

Brother,

I hope that you are safe. We've been hearing the most terrible news of events in the capital. They tell us that swords have been drawn in the Cortes chamber, that Grenadiers and Marines have shot at each other in the streets, that the Duke of Wulfram has withdrawn to Tannersburg with a great body of armed men and declared himself in a state of open defiance against the Crown. They're the sort of things one might have never credited, the sort of things which belong in history, not in waking life.

Yet there's proof of the veracity of such stories everywhere, too great and too numerous to deny. The very kingdom is readying to make war against itself before our eyes.

We too are making preparations. As you ordered, we have embodied the Houseguard. I have tried my best to seek out veteran soldiers experienced in the use of arms to drill them, but few are to be had, so I fear that it will be some time before we are able to speak of a force capable of defending the estate and the village.

Such a force may soon be necessary. Though the majority of our neighbours have declared neutrality as the Duke of Cunaris has, and others have joined us in remaining loyal to the Queen, others still have joined the Duke of Wulfram's rebellion, and I fear they may soon move to attack us.

Should such an eventuality come to pass, I will be able to make no guarantees. I have no experience in the military arts, and no present source of counsel in such matters to rely upon. I may be obliged to come to some arrangement with our family's enemies. If that is the case, then I shall hope you will forgive me for doing as best I can to preserve our properties and the lives of our tenants.

Whatever advice or other help you may send would be most welcome, but I fear that such a crisis may be far beyond my means. I would rather you were in my place right now, but as that remains an impossibility, I can only promise that I'll do the best I can, and hope that is enough.

Charles

quote:

"drat me," Captain Blaylock growls, picking at the plate of black sausages before him as you and your senior officers sit together for a working breakfast in the officers' mess. "You could have at least told us, of all people. It ain't do well for a man's balance of sentiments to be commanded that he's to risk life and limb for one cause, only to be told at the last moment that he's to fight just as hard for the opposing side."

Captain Sandoral idly sips his coffee before nodding his agreement. "I understand the necessity of a certain measure of discretion, sir, especially in circumstances like these�but surely it would have been better for us to have known?" He frowns, as if belatedly coming to a rather unpleasant conclusion. "The men and the junior officers, I could understand, but surely you trust us, right sir?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, gentlemen," Garret interjects as she leans forward, dropping her voice more for theatrical effect than any practickal purpose. "But we couldn't trust anyone. Any individual aside from those directly charged with carrying out Her Majesty's clandestine orders was an unwarranted risk, and quite frankly�" She gives your other Captains a smug, almost catlike look. "If you'd known just how closely run a thing it was, you'd agree."

"Hold on a minute," Blaylock answers, eyes narrow with suspicion. "How do you know about all of this? I know you love your secrets, Garret, but you're talking like you know precisely what's in the Queen's drawers. In fact�"

Before he can say another word, the door creaks open.

A messenger in the uniform of a Corporal of Grenadiers strides through, snapping to attention before you.

"My lord, Her Majesty the Queen has demanded your presence, as well as the presence of Captain Garret, at the Northern Keep."

"Perhaps Her Majesty will be able to offer some solution to our quandary."

"That sounds rather urgent, Corporal."

"Corporal, am I being arrested?"

quote:

As of the Winter of the 618 of the Old Imperial Era:

Sir Alaric d'al Sancroix, Baron Somewhere Awful
Lieutenant-colonel, Royal Dragoons
Age: 46

Current Funds: 400 Crown
Debts: 20203 Crown

Bi-Annual Income (Personal): 270 Crown
Bi-Annual Estate Revenues: 714 Crown

Bi-Annual Estate Expenses: 425 Crown
Bi-Annual Interest Payments: 404 Crown

Total Net Income (Next Six Months): 155 Crown

Soldiering: 20%
Charisma: 46%
Intellect: 55%

Reputation: 34%
Health: 20%

Idealism: 55%Cynicism: 45%
Ruthlessness: 75%Mercy: 25%

You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear Bane-hardened armour and wield a Bane-runed sword.

You can speak, read, and write the Antari language.

You have only a little influence among the Royalist Faction.

Your known Royalist loyalties have made you somewhat unwelcome among the Wulframite Faction.

You have some small amount of pull at Grenadier Square.

You may notice that Alaric's health stat has been cut in half

quote:

Colonel-in-Chief: Her Tierran Majesty, Isobel d'al Rendower
Colonel Commanding: His Grace, the Duke of Cunaris
Quartermaster: Captain Sir Caius d'al Cazarosta

First Squadron
Officer Commanding: Captain Adelina d'al Garret

Discipline: 34%
Morale: 46%
Loyalty: 15%
Strength: 60%

Second Squadron
Officer Commanding: Lieutenant-colonel the Baron Somewhere Awful

Discipline: 50%
Morale: 51%
Loyalty: 38%
Strength: 40%

Third Squadron
Officer Commanding: Captain Arcturus d'al Hawkins

Discipline: 62%
Morale: 57%
Loyalty: 15%
Strength: 28%

And one last look at the regiment

# ? Jul 25, 2023 16:56

AJ_Impy: Jun 17, 2007; SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?; Yam Slacker

Sounds rather urgent.

Secret Queen loyalists, non-bastard section, represent.

# ? Jul 25, 2023 17:52

Gun Jam: Apr 11, 2015

We didn't even get to stab anyone!
"Perhaps Her Majesty will be able to offer some solution to our quandary."

# ? Jul 25, 2023 18:19

Dong Quixote: Oct 3, 2015; Fun Shoe

AM I BEING DETAINED?

Refuse to recognize the queen's jurisdiction because of the presence of the South Fleet's admiralty flag.

# ? Jul 25, 2023 18:41

LJN92: Mar 5, 2014

Sounds rather urgent.

I'm just amazed we survived that assault at all with our abysmal stats.

# ? Jul 25, 2023 21:20

sullat: Jan 9, 2012

LJN92 posted:

Sounds rather urgent.

I'm just amazed we survived that assault at all with our abysmal stats.

Same to both

# ? Jul 25, 2023 22:01

Rogue AI Goddess: May 10, 2012; I enjoy the sight of humans on their knees.
That was a joke... unless..?

LJN92 posted:

Sounds rather urgent.

I'm just amazed we survived that assault at all with our abysmal stats.

# ? Jul 25, 2023 22:03

Yaoi Gagarin: Feb 20, 2014

Sounds urgent

The stab took 20% off our health so we didn't get away easy. I wonder what the lead the command option would have been like.

# ? Jul 25, 2023 23:06

TheGreatEvilKing: Mar 28, 2016

LJN92 posted:

Sounds rather urgent.

I'm just amazed we survived that assault at all with our abysmal stats.

# ? Jul 26, 2023 16:15

Lord Cyrahzax: Oct 11, 2012

"That sounds rather urgent, Corporal."

quote:

"It is," the Corporal responds stiffly, whether out of hostility or some other sentiment, you cannot say. "Her Majesty was quite clear that you be presented before her immediately."

"Well then, I suppose we've not much of a choice," Garret remarks as she gets up out of her chair. "I suppose we better go. Don't want to keep Her Majesty waiting, eh?"

No, you suppose not.

"A coach is waiting for you at the gate," the Grenadier replies. "If you would follow me�"

quote:

It's a long way from your regiment's billet to the Northern Keep, though perhaps not as long as it was on the day of Wulfram's uprising. Yet the journey gives you plenty of time to observe the scars which that bloody day had torn through the city. Even now, the streets are still filled with rubble, and there are places where the stench of rotting blood still seems to cling to the tongue. Not even the city's great monuments are untouched: Victory Square is still strewn with debris, Saint Octavia's Park is all over with the remnants of looting and skirmishing, and Grenadier Square�with all of its valuable records and archives and trophies of battles past�is all but burned to the ground.

The route which your coach takes certainly offers no small taste of the damage which was done to the city. The view out your window is a grim procession of burned-out townhouses, smashed shopfronts, and the black smears which mark the last remnants of the great pyres which had burned day and night for a week after the fighting ended.

Aetoria�and the Royalist cause�is a wounded beast.

And it is a beast whose strength seems to be almost spent.

The Queen barely waited until Wulfram's fleet had left the harbour before calling for support from her allies and their Houseguards, but after a month and a half of waiting, there seems to have been little in the way of reply. True, you see an occasional body of armed men on the streets here and there, but their discipline and their armament leave much to be desired, and in many cases, their civilian clothes mark them as mere street militia, rather than anyone who might be earnestly classed as even semi-professional soldiers.

The Duke of Wulfram is also raising an army, and judging from the stories you've heard, he's having a far better time of it. The rumours say that he's already gathered tens of thousands of his allies' Houseguards near Tannersburg. Though some of the tales are surely exaggerations, you suspect there must be some element of truth to them. It seems likely enough that in terms of armed men, Wulfram holds the advantage, at least for now.

You can only hope that you or your allies find some way to reverse the balance of power, before you find yourself irrevocably on the losing side.

quote:

And you don't want to be on the losing side, for you suspect there will be precious little mercy for those caught up in it.

Indeed, that's a fact that you cannot help but be reminded of as your coach rattles across the square before the gates to the Northern Keep, and you catch the now-familiar sight of the construction which looms over its expanse.

Two years ago, when the Old City had rioted, it was said that the King answered with an act of singular severity. He ordered the two dozen baneless whom the Intendancy had declared to be the ringleaders of the disorder hanged in a single gallows before the gates. There they had dangled for weeks afterwards, until their flesh had rotted and their bones had been bleached by the sun.

Now, once again, the Crown has raised a gallows before the Northern Keep, only this time, it isn't the bodies of common rabble-rousers who hang from its crossbeams. After Wulfram's flight from the city, the Queen showed a remarkable clemency towards the baneless who had taken up arms against her: a general amnesty was proclaimed, and the Queen herself delivered a publick statement in the spirit of reconciliation. Yet that same day, she showed a very different attitude towards those gentlemen and ladies of the blood of Wulfram's party who had remained in the city. To them, she offered no such mercy: those without title, she ordered put in the deepest cells of the Northern Keep.

And the remains of those with titles who had acted against her now hang from the gallows as your coach rattles past, their bodies half-rotten�perhaps mercifully so. You knew some of those men, none of them well, but well enough for their dead faces to make for uneasy scenery.

Captain Garret watches the grisly spectacle with a surprising look of satisfaction on her features. She's been silent for the whole of the journey, but no longer.

"You know, I half-expected Izzy not to go through with it," she observes. "Some point of expediency or other. But I'm glad she did. This is the sort of justice we've long been lacking, I think."

"This isn't justice. It's barbarity."

"You're aware that it might have been us hanging there, had we lost?"

"For once, I think we're in agreement."

"I think it rather excessive. It would have been enough to hang a few nobodies."

quote:

As of the Winter of the 618 of the Old Imperial Era:

Sir Alaric d'al Sancroix, Baron Somewhere Awful
Lieutenant-colonel, Royal Dragoons
Age: 46

Current Funds: 400 Crown
Debts: 20203 Crown

Bi-Annual Income (Personal): 270 Crown
Bi-Annual Estate Revenues: 714 Crown

Bi-Annual Estate Expenses: 425 Crown
Bi-Annual Interest Payments: 404 Crown

Total Net Income (Next Six Months): 155 Crown

Soldiering: 20%
Charisma: 46%
Intellect: 55%

Reputation: 34%
Health: 20%

Idealism: 55%Cynicism: 45%
Ruthlessness: 75%Mercy: 25%

You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear Bane-hardened armour and wield a Bane-runed sword.

You can speak, read, and write the Antari language.

You have only a little influence among the Royalist Faction.

Your known Royalist loyalties have made you somewhat unwelcome among the Wulframite Faction.

You have some small amount of pull at Grenadier Square.

# ? Jul 26, 2023 17:50

BraveLittleToaster: May 5, 2019

"For once, I think we're in agreement."

# ? Jul 26, 2023 17:56

Rogue AI Goddess: May 10, 2012; I enjoy the sight of humans on their knees.
That was a joke... unless..?

"You're aware that it might have been us hanging there, had we lost?"

# ? Jul 26, 2023 18:03

Adbot: ADBOT LOVES YOU

# ? May 18, 2024 18:38

Yaoi Gagarin: Feb 20, 2014

BraveLittleToaster posted:

"For once, I think we're in agreement."

We are 75% ruthlessness so this

# ? Jul 26, 2023 18:06

The Something Awful Forums > Discussion > Video Games > Let's Play! > I Have Tasted Command, And I Cannot Give It Up: Lords of Infinity

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