A quest of the path of a Tierran Officer.
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The Officer: An Infinity Series Quest
- Thread starter SamuelWilson
- Start date
- Fantasy
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Character Creation
- Location
- 1st World Country
The Infinity Series takes place in the Infinite Sea, a fantasy setting possessed of functional magic, among other extraordinary phenomena. It is a setting where wealth, class, gender, allegiance, and birth restrict a person's role in society. Thus, the player character is required to be a young man of noble birth.
Your place of origin, where your childhood years were spent:
[ ]Wulfram, the Northern Duchy. Rich in Resources and Industry(-1 token)
[ ]Cunaris, the Eastern Duchy. Home to the finest Soldiers in Tierra.
[ ]The capital City of Aetoria, the beacon of culture and society.(-1 token)
[ ]The harsh shores of the Salt Coast, fit to raise only the toughest of folk. (+1 token)
You are a baneblood, with the ability to sense the bane, or what the simpler folk would call 'magic'. In Tierra, being a baneblood was synonymous with being nobility. Or are you?
[ ]Baneblood
You are the expected result of 2 baneblooded parents, able to sense the bane but unable to cast it with Baneseals.
[ ]Strong Banecaster (-3 token)
You are not only able to sense the baneforce, but are also able to cast with great competency, marking you as one of the few Banecasterd of the 9th Degree.
[ ]Suspect Takaran (-5 token)
You are able to banecast without using baneseals, which is impossible for current Tierran banebloods. Such an ability subjects you to the rumours that you have Takaran Blood...
[ ]Deathborn (+8 token)(Must be taken with Duke/Earl)
You are unable to sense the bane. Because 2 parents of the Baneblood is pretty much gaurenteed to be have a Baneblooded child, you are the proof of your mother's adultry, a crime which saw her executed, as per the King's Law.
When the King has sent out the call to arms, you responded, at the age of:
[ ]14, a fresh, naive boy wet behind the ears. (+1 Token)
- Has 26 points to allocate between your 3 Stats
- Health is set to maximum of 30 points
- Gains 20 points towards Idealism and Merciful
[ ]18, on the cusp of adulthood.
- Has 32 points to allocate between your 3 stats
- Health is set to maximum of 26 points
- No changes to Idealism or Mercy
[ ]26, where the bloom of youth has not yet faded.
- Has 36 points to allocate between your 3 stats
- Health is set to maximum of 22 points
- Gains 20 points towards Cynical and Ruthlessness
For your 3 stats, you have
-Soldiering /30
-Charisma /30
-Intellect /30
Please allocate your points gained from selecting your age of enlistment to these 3 stats.
You cannot place more then 20 points in 1 stat, nor can you place less then 3 points in 1 stat either.
You can use 1 Token to add 3 points to 1 stat at a maximum of 2 Tokens used in this manner.
You can also conversely gain 1 Token for every 3 points you do not use for a maximum of 2 Tokens gained in this manner.
Your name:
[ ]Alaric
[ ]Arturo
[ ]Louis
[ ]John
[ ]Alfonso
[ ]James
[ ]Write-in
You are most definetly a baneblood and part of the Tierran Peerage of Nobility. But not all nobles are equal. You are the son of a:
[ ]Duke (-7 Tokens)
The highest level of peerage short of being Royalty itself. The Dukedoms covers large swathes of land and is reported to have tens, if not hundred of thousands of crowns worth of property. Dukes are styled 'His Grace'.
[ ]Earl (-5 Tokens)
Descendants of Independant Monarchs who did not submit themselves to tierran Autority at first, Earldoms have wealthy tracts of land, or have monopolies worth tens of thousands of crowns. They have hundreds of retainers.
[ ]Baron (+1 Token)
Descendants of Landowners who carved out their meagre estates. Old in name and honors, but rarely posses profitable and wealthy estates.
Here are also a few traits you may spend or gain Tokens from:
[ ]Slow-witted (+2 Token)
Unable to grasp concepts quickly, you were the bane of your tutors in your childhood. Reduces your Intellect by 1d4 and sets your Intellect Maximum to 20.
[ ]One-eyed (+2 Token)
An accident in your youth claims an eye, hindering your Shooting skills. Takes a malus for Soldiering by 2d2 whenever you are using any Ranged Options, and your Charisma is reduced by 3d2. Sets your Charisma Maximum to 22. Comes with a cool eyepatch.
[ ]Playboy (+1 Token)
Likes to do undercover work when it comes to the womenfolk nobility. Have to roll a check to resist the urge to act on your basick urges when you meet a good-looking baneblooded girl of marriagable age. Reduces your Reputation by 3d5 every time you decide to pluck the forbidden fruit, ???
[ ]Ideal of a gentleman (+2 Token)
Your childhood is filled with the tales of Knights and Chivalry, and thinks of Battle as a glorious sight. Yearns to be a hero. Sets your Idealism to 85 and cannot go below 70. Cannot take certain actions as long as this trait is active.
[ ]Chosen by the Saints(-4 Token)
From young, when the Saints were first introduced to you, there was something within you that yearned for something greater, and that you were more then who you were at times...
+3 to all Stats, ???
[ ]1st class conversationalist(-3 token)
From young, when you were instructed in the ways and mannerisms of being nobility, you realized you had a knack for this, be it speaking to crowds or society cues.
+5 to Charisma, able to sway others to your point of view much easier, ???
You may take a loan of up to 3 tokens to build up your character. However, if you decide to go for this course of action, allows me to decide if I can autofail a check for each token that you go into debt with.
You have (1) token at the start before adjustments to use for character creation.
Alternatively, you may skip character creation and pick one of the characters below:
[ ]Renald d'al Findlay, eldest son of the Duke of Cunaris
The heir to the Dukedom of Cunaris, an idealistic young lad of 16 that is athletic and Charismatic, but is dubbed to be hopeless when it comes to academics by your tutors. A hardworking young lad, you enter your father's regiment starting out as a cornet against your father's wishes...
[ ]Caius d'al Cazarosta, adopted son of the Earl of Leoniscourt
Born a deathborn, your status betrayed your illegitimacy and your mother was executed. Your adoptive Father, however, raised you as if you were his own son and let you keep his name as is your birthright, if you were legitimate. When the call of arms sounded, you went off to join the King's Army as an officer thanks to your adoptive father's connections...
Hi, and welcome~☆
This series fascinates me alot and I'd like to try writing a quest about it.
When voting, please vote in plan format, thanks.
Your place of origin, where your childhood years were spent:
[ ]Wulfram, the Northern Duchy. Rich in Resources and Industry(-1 token)
[ ]Cunaris, the Eastern Duchy. Home to the finest Soldiers in Tierra.
[ ]The capital City of Aetoria, the beacon of culture and society.(-1 token)
[ ]The harsh shores of the Salt Coast, fit to raise only the toughest of folk. (+1 token)
You are a baneblood, with the ability to sense the bane, or what the simpler folk would call 'magic'. In Tierra, being a baneblood was synonymous with being nobility. Or are you?
[ ]Baneblood
You are the expected result of 2 baneblooded parents, able to sense the bane but unable to cast it with Baneseals.
[ ]Strong Banecaster (-3 token)
You are not only able to sense the baneforce, but are also able to cast with great competency, marking you as one of the few Banecasterd of the 9th Degree.
[ ]Suspect Takaran (-5 token)
You are able to banecast without using baneseals, which is impossible for current Tierran banebloods. Such an ability subjects you to the rumours that you have Takaran Blood...
[ ]Deathborn (+8 token)(Must be taken with Duke/Earl)
You are unable to sense the bane. Because 2 parents of the Baneblood is pretty much gaurenteed to be have a Baneblooded child, you are the proof of your mother's adultry, a crime which saw her executed, as per the King's Law.
When the King has sent out the call to arms, you responded, at the age of:
[ ]14, a fresh, naive boy wet behind the ears. (+1 Token)
- Has 26 points to allocate between your 3 Stats
- Health is set to maximum of 30 points
- Gains 20 points towards Idealism and Merciful
[ ]18, on the cusp of adulthood.
- Has 32 points to allocate between your 3 stats
- Health is set to maximum of 26 points
- No changes to Idealism or Mercy
[ ]26, where the bloom of youth has not yet faded.
- Has 36 points to allocate between your 3 stats
- Health is set to maximum of 22 points
- Gains 20 points towards Cynical and Ruthlessness
For your 3 stats, you have
-Soldiering /30
-Charisma /30
-Intellect /30
Please allocate your points gained from selecting your age of enlistment to these 3 stats.
You cannot place more then 20 points in 1 stat, nor can you place less then 3 points in 1 stat either.
You can use 1 Token to add 3 points to 1 stat at a maximum of 2 Tokens used in this manner.
You can also conversely gain 1 Token for every 3 points you do not use for a maximum of 2 Tokens gained in this manner.
Your name:
[ ]Alaric
[ ]Arturo
[ ]Louis
[ ]John
[ ]Alfonso
[ ]James
[ ]Write-in
You are most definetly a baneblood and part of the Tierran Peerage of Nobility. But not all nobles are equal. You are the son of a:
[ ]Duke (-7 Tokens)
The highest level of peerage short of being Royalty itself. The Dukedoms covers large swathes of land and is reported to have tens, if not hundred of thousands of crowns worth of property. Dukes are styled 'His Grace'.
[ ]Earl (-5 Tokens)
Descendants of Independant Monarchs who did not submit themselves to tierran Autority at first, Earldoms have wealthy tracts of land, or have monopolies worth tens of thousands of crowns. They have hundreds of retainers.
[ ]Baron (+1 Token)
Descendants of Landowners who carved out their meagre estates. Old in name and honors, but rarely posses profitable and wealthy estates.
Here are also a few traits you may spend or gain Tokens from:
[ ]Slow-witted (+2 Token)
Unable to grasp concepts quickly, you were the bane of your tutors in your childhood. Reduces your Intellect by 1d4 and sets your Intellect Maximum to 20.
[ ]One-eyed (+2 Token)
An accident in your youth claims an eye, hindering your Shooting skills. Takes a malus for Soldiering by 2d2 whenever you are using any Ranged Options, and your Charisma is reduced by 3d2. Sets your Charisma Maximum to 22. Comes with a cool eyepatch.
[ ]Playboy (+1 Token)
Likes to do undercover work when it comes to the womenfolk nobility. Have to roll a check to resist the urge to act on your basick urges when you meet a good-looking baneblooded girl of marriagable age. Reduces your Reputation by 3d5 every time you decide to pluck the forbidden fruit, ???
[ ]Ideal of a gentleman (+2 Token)
Your childhood is filled with the tales of Knights and Chivalry, and thinks of Battle as a glorious sight. Yearns to be a hero. Sets your Idealism to 85 and cannot go below 70. Cannot take certain actions as long as this trait is active.
[ ]Chosen by the Saints(-4 Token)
From young, when the Saints were first introduced to you, there was something within you that yearned for something greater, and that you were more then who you were at times...
+3 to all Stats, ???
[ ]1st class conversationalist(-3 token)
From young, when you were instructed in the ways and mannerisms of being nobility, you realized you had a knack for this, be it speaking to crowds or society cues.
+5 to Charisma, able to sway others to your point of view much easier, ???
You may take a loan of up to 3 tokens to build up your character. However, if you decide to go for this course of action, allows me to decide if I can autofail a check for each token that you go into debt with.
You have (1) token at the start before adjustments to use for character creation.
Alternatively, you may skip character creation and pick one of the characters below:
[ ]Renald d'al Findlay, eldest son of the Duke of Cunaris
The heir to the Dukedom of Cunaris, an idealistic young lad of 16 that is athletic and Charismatic, but is dubbed to be hopeless when it comes to academics by your tutors. A hardworking young lad, you enter your father's regiment starting out as a cornet against your father's wishes...
[ ]Caius d'al Cazarosta, adopted son of the Earl of Leoniscourt
Born a deathborn, your status betrayed your illegitimacy and your mother was executed. Your adoptive Father, however, raised you as if you were his own son and let you keep his name as is your birthright, if you were legitimate. When the call of arms sounded, you went off to join the King's Army as an officer thanks to your adoptive father's connections...
Hi, and welcome~☆
This series fascinates me alot and I'd like to try writing a quest about it.
When voting, please vote in plan format, thanks.
Attribute Explanation
- Location
- 1st World Country
Soldiering: The stat that determines how physically skilled you are at the art of combat and how fit you generally are.
Intellect: Book Smarts and how knowledgable you are.
Charisma: How well you present yourself socially and how well your gift of the gab is.
Reputation: How well-known you are from just your name will invoke alone. Range
Idealism: How optismistic you are on situations. Shares a 100 with Cynical. The more Idealism you have, the less Cynical you have.
Cynical: How cynical you think on situations. Shares a 100 with Idealism. The more Cynical you have, the less Idealism you have.
Mercy: How much leeway you give people. Shares a 100 with Ruthlessness. More Mercy = Less Ruthlessness
Ruthlessness: How harsh you will be on people when interacting with them. Shares a 100 with Mercy. More Ruthlessness = Less Mercy
Health: How functional your state of being is. If this drops to 0, you are dead.
Intellect: Book Smarts and how knowledgable you are.
Charisma: How well you present yourself socially and how well your gift of the gab is.
Reputation: How well-known you are from just your name will invoke alone. Range
Idealism: How optismistic you are on situations. Shares a 100 with Cynical. The more Idealism you have, the less Cynical you have.
Cynical: How cynical you think on situations. Shares a 100 with Idealism. The more Cynical you have, the less Idealism you have.
Mercy: How much leeway you give people. Shares a 100 with Ruthlessness. More Mercy = Less Ruthlessness
Ruthlessness: How harsh you will be on people when interacting with them. Shares a 100 with Mercy. More Ruthlessness = Less Mercy
Health: How functional your state of being is. If this drops to 0, you are dead.
Character Sheet
- Location
- 1st World Country
As of the Spring of the 602nd year of the Old Imperial Era.
Louis d'al Maradirez
Age: 14
Soldiering: 7 (+3 – Chosen)(-3 – Youthfulness)/30
Intellect: 6 (+3 – Chosen)/30
Charisma: 7 (+3 – Chosen)/30
Reputation: 22/100
Idealism: 85/100
Cynical: 15/100
Mercy: 55/100
Ruthlessness: 45/100
Health: 35/35
Traits and Characteristics:
Saltblooded – Growing up on the Salt Coast, the Harshness of the climate has toughened you up, in Body and Spirit. Gains 5 Max Health and 15 to Ruthlessness.
Ideal of a Gentleman – If Chivalry had a physickal body, it would be yours. Will not give ground on matters of Integrity and what is right. Idealism is set to 85 and cannot go below 70.
Also cannot take certain actions when this trait is active.
Banecaster – When being tested, was found to be a banecaster of the 8th Caliber. Able to cast spells of potency, if not landscape-changing.
Suspect Takaran(Undiscovered?) - While going through banecasting training of several months, you realized that you could banecast without Baneseals, purely through accident. This ability is normally displayed only by the Takarans...
Able to Banecast without Baneseals, but not without cost. Using this form of Banecasting will cut short your lifespan the more you draw upon this ability, ???
Playboy – Even as a young kid, The Maid's Skirts held a certain amount of appeal. As you grew up, you realized from the scoldings of your Father that your appreciation for the female gender was perhaps too much. Regardless, you could not, would not give up on your attraction.
Have to roll a check when you meet a good-looking baneblooded girl of marriagable age. Reduces your Reputation by 3d5 whenever you tryst, ???
Chosen by the Saints – At a young age, when you were taught about the Saints, there was something within you that wanted more, that you had become something greater then who you were at times...
+3 to all Stats, ???, ???
Youthfulness - A young boy not fully grown, it is oft said that people of these particular age is strong in potential but less so in skill and strength. Reduces your Soldiering by 3 until you are 16 years of age.
Louis d'al Maradirez
Age: 14
Soldiering: 7 (+3 – Chosen)(-3 – Youthfulness)/30
Intellect: 6 (+3 – Chosen)/30
Charisma: 7 (+3 – Chosen)/30
Reputation: 22/100
Idealism: 85/100
Cynical: 15/100
Mercy: 55/100
Ruthlessness: 45/100
Health: 35/35
Traits and Characteristics:
Saltblooded – Growing up on the Salt Coast, the Harshness of the climate has toughened you up, in Body and Spirit. Gains 5 Max Health and 15 to Ruthlessness.
Ideal of a Gentleman – If Chivalry had a physickal body, it would be yours. Will not give ground on matters of Integrity and what is right. Idealism is set to 85 and cannot go below 70.
Also cannot take certain actions when this trait is active.
Banecaster – When being tested, was found to be a banecaster of the 8th Caliber. Able to cast spells of potency, if not landscape-changing.
Suspect Takaran(Undiscovered?) - While going through banecasting training of several months, you realized that you could banecast without Baneseals, purely through accident. This ability is normally displayed only by the Takarans...
Able to Banecast without Baneseals, but not without cost. Using this form of Banecasting will cut short your lifespan the more you draw upon this ability, ???
Playboy – Even as a young kid, The Maid's Skirts held a certain amount of appeal. As you grew up, you realized from the scoldings of your Father that your appreciation for the female gender was perhaps too much. Regardless, you could not, would not give up on your attraction.
Have to roll a check when you meet a good-looking baneblooded girl of marriagable age. Reduces your Reputation by 3d5 whenever you tryst, ???
Chosen by the Saints – At a young age, when you were taught about the Saints, there was something within you that wanted more, that you had become something greater then who you were at times...
+3 to all Stats, ???, ???
Youthfulness - A young boy not fully grown, it is oft said that people of these particular age is strong in potential but less so in skill and strength. Reduces your Soldiering by 3 until you are 16 years of age.
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[X] Plan Practically a Chosen One
-[X]The harsh shores of the Salt Coast, fit to raise only the toughest of folk. (+1 token)
-[X]Suspect Takaran (-5 token)
-[X]14, a fresh, naive boy wet behind the ears. (+1 Token)
-[X]Soldiering 7+3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Charisma 7+3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Intellect 6+3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Louis
-[X]Baron (+1 Token)
-[X]Playboy (+1 Token)
-[X]Ideal of a gentleman (+2 Token)
-[X]Chosen by the Saints(-4 Token)
-[X]The harsh shores of the Salt Coast, fit to raise only the toughest of folk. (+1 token)
-[X]Suspect Takaran (-5 token)
-[X]14, a fresh, naive boy wet behind the ears. (+1 Token)
-[X]Soldiering 7+3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Charisma 7+3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Intellect 6+3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Louis
-[X]Baron (+1 Token)
-[X]Playboy (+1 Token)
-[X]Ideal of a gentleman (+2 Token)
-[X]Chosen by the Saints(-4 Token)
DangerKitty
shoddy writter
- Location
- lala land
[X] Plan smooth criminal
-[X]The harsh shores of the Salt Coast, fit to raise only the toughest of folk. (+1 token)
-[X]Suspect Takaran (-5 token)
-[X]14, a fresh, naive boy wet behind the ears. (+1 Token)
-[X]Soldiering 9/30
-[X]Charisma 9/30
-[X]Intellect 8/30
-[X]Louis
-[X]Baron (+1 Token)
-[X]Playboy (+1 Token)
-[X]One-eyed (+2 Token)
-[X]Ideal of a gentleman (+2 Token)
-[X]1st class conversationalist(-3 token)
Personally i find this to be an interesting character, talented in magic and social skills. Wants to be a gentleman but struggles with his base nature
-[X]The harsh shores of the Salt Coast, fit to raise only the toughest of folk. (+1 token)
-[X]Suspect Takaran (-5 token)
-[X]14, a fresh, naive boy wet behind the ears. (+1 Token)
-[X]Soldiering 9/30
-[X]Charisma 9/30
-[X]Intellect 8/30
-[X]Louis
-[X]Baron (+1 Token)
-[X]Playboy (+1 Token)
-[X]One-eyed (+2 Token)
-[X]Ideal of a gentleman (+2 Token)
-[X]1st class conversationalist(-3 token)
Personally i find this to be an interesting character, talented in magic and social skills. Wants to be a gentleman but struggles with his base nature
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[X] Plan Practically a Chosen One
-[X]The harsh shores of the Salt Coast, fit to raise only the toughest of folk. (+1 token)
-[X]Suspect Takaran (-5 token)
-[X]14, a fresh, naive boy wet behind the ears. (+1 Token)
-[X]Soldiering 7+3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Charisma 7+3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Intellect 6+3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Louis
-[X]Baron (+1 Token)
-[X]Playboy (+1 Token)
-[X]Ideal of a gentleman (+2 Token)
-[X]Chosen by the Saints(-4 Token)
-[X]The harsh shores of the Salt Coast, fit to raise only the toughest of folk. (+1 token)
-[X]Suspect Takaran (-5 token)
-[X]14, a fresh, naive boy wet behind the ears. (+1 Token)
-[X]Soldiering 7+3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Charisma 7+3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Intellect 6+3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Louis
-[X]Baron (+1 Token)
-[X]Playboy (+1 Token)
-[X]Ideal of a gentleman (+2 Token)
-[X]Chosen by the Saints(-4 Token)
- Location
- Abu Dhabi or Manila depending on the time of year
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Plan smooth criminal
[X] Plan Practically a Chosen One
- Location
- 1st World Country
I'll open voting for another day or so.
Since it's character creation and all.
Since it's character creation and all.
- Location
- 1st World Country
Current vote
- Location
- US
[X] Plan Practically a Chosen One
Looks solid to me.
Looks solid to me.
- Location
- San Ramon, CA
[X] Plan Practically a Chosen One
[X] Plan smooth criminal
Rebel Rye
The Lurking Gadfly
- Location
- Liberty
[X] Plan Go big or go home
-[X]The harsh shores of the Salt Coast, fit to raise only the toughest of folk. (+1 token)
-[X]Deathborn (+8 token)(Must be taken with Duke/Earl)
-[X]14, a fresh, naive boy wet behind the ears. (+1 Token)
-[X]Soldiering 6 +3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Charisma 8 +3(Chosen) +5(1st class) /30
-[X]Intellect 6 +3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Alexander
-[x]Duke (-7 Tokens)
-[X]Playboy (+1 Token)
-[X]Ideal of a gentleman (+2 Token)
-[X]Chosen by the Saints(-4 Token)
-[X]1st class conversationalist(-3 token)
-[X]The harsh shores of the Salt Coast, fit to raise only the toughest of folk. (+1 token)
-[X]Deathborn (+8 token)(Must be taken with Duke/Earl)
-[X]14, a fresh, naive boy wet behind the ears. (+1 Token)
-[X]Soldiering 6 +3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Charisma 8 +3(Chosen) +5(1st class) /30
-[X]Intellect 6 +3(Chosen) /30
-[X]Alexander
-[x]Duke (-7 Tokens)
-[X]Playboy (+1 Token)
-[X]Ideal of a gentleman (+2 Token)
-[X]Chosen by the Saints(-4 Token)
-[X]1st class conversationalist(-3 token)
- Location
- 1st World Country
I'll close the vote in about 6-8 hours times.
Currently Practically a Chosen One's plan is in the lead in terms of votes.
Currently Practically a Chosen One's plan is in the lead in terms of votes.
- Location
- 1st World Country
Vote is closed.
The Royal Tierran Army
- Location
- 1st World Country
OVERVIEW:
The Royal Tierran Army is the land-based branch of the Tierran armed forces. Though eclipsed by the Royal Tierran Navy in size, reputation, and funding, the Royal Army maintains readiness mostly through the sale of commissions and the private contributions of various powerful Cortes nobles, who often pay to maintain private units of "house guards" who serve as that noble house's private guards in times of peace. The Army has a wartime strength of approximately 24 000 fighting men, divided into 18 regiments.
ORGANIZATION:
The basic administrative unit in the Tierran Army is the Regiment. Although horse (cavalry) and foot (infantry) regiments are organized differently, both types are large, usually independent formations of around 1 000 men. These regiments are ranked by the seniority and the perceived quality of their officers and men. The elite "Guards" regiments (The Grenadier Guards, Wolf's Head Cuirassiers and Kentauri Highlanders) are ranked first, followed by the three regiments of the Royal Marines and then by the remainder.
PURCHASE OF COMMISSIONS:
To ensure that the Royal Army's officer corps is populated by men of wealth and appropriate class, the Royal Army usually requires an officer to purchase a promotion once they have the appropriate seniority. Of course, any officer could refuse to sell their commission to a would-be successor considered too disreputable to advance in the ranks. In addition, promotions are extremely expensive, especially in more prestigious regiments. Even a Major's commission in a Regiment of Foot costs some 800 Crowns, equivalent to ten years' wages for a working member of the middle class. This means that the peacetime army is populated by men of wealth, honour, and privilege. Only during times of war are officers from humble backgrounds capable of earning the great sums of money needed to reach the higher ranks.
RANKS (CAVALRY EQUIVALENTS FOR INFANTRY-ONLY RANKS IN PARANTHESES):
Non-Commissioned:
Armsman (Trooper/Dragoon)—One bar.
Lance Corporal—One chevron.
Corporal—Two chevrons.
Sergeant—Three chevrons.^
Sergeant-Major (Staff Sergeant)—Three chevrons and crown.
Colour Sergeant—Three chevrons over an reversed chevron enclosing a crown.^^
Commissioned:
Ensign (Cornet)—One gold pip.
Lieutenant—Two gold pips.
Captain—Three gold pips.
Major—Pair of crossed swords.
Lieutenant Colonel—Two pairs of crossed swords.
Colonel—As with Lt. colonel, topped with a small crown. ^^^
General of Brigade—Two small crowns.
Lieutenant General—Three small crowns.
General-Royal—One large crown. ^^^^
^Sergeants usually lead cavalry patrols or infantry sections, the smallest individual units.
^^The Colour Sergeant is the most senior NCO in a Regiment. He is tasked with guarding the officer carrying the Regimental flag, or "Colours".
^^^colonel is the highest rank obtainable by purchased commission. General ranks must be earned by seniority and excellent service.
^^^^This rank is reserved for the King, as commander-in-chief.
The Royal Tierran Army is the land-based branch of the Tierran armed forces. Though eclipsed by the Royal Tierran Navy in size, reputation, and funding, the Royal Army maintains readiness mostly through the sale of commissions and the private contributions of various powerful Cortes nobles, who often pay to maintain private units of "house guards" who serve as that noble house's private guards in times of peace. The Army has a wartime strength of approximately 24 000 fighting men, divided into 18 regiments.
ORGANIZATION:
The basic administrative unit in the Tierran Army is the Regiment. Although horse (cavalry) and foot (infantry) regiments are organized differently, both types are large, usually independent formations of around 1 000 men. These regiments are ranked by the seniority and the perceived quality of their officers and men. The elite "Guards" regiments (The Grenadier Guards, Wolf's Head Cuirassiers and Kentauri Highlanders) are ranked first, followed by the three regiments of the Royal Marines and then by the remainder.
PURCHASE OF COMMISSIONS:
To ensure that the Royal Army's officer corps is populated by men of wealth and appropriate class, the Royal Army usually requires an officer to purchase a promotion once they have the appropriate seniority. Of course, any officer could refuse to sell their commission to a would-be successor considered too disreputable to advance in the ranks. In addition, promotions are extremely expensive, especially in more prestigious regiments. Even a Major's commission in a Regiment of Foot costs some 800 Crowns, equivalent to ten years' wages for a working member of the middle class. This means that the peacetime army is populated by men of wealth, honour, and privilege. Only during times of war are officers from humble backgrounds capable of earning the great sums of money needed to reach the higher ranks.
RANKS (CAVALRY EQUIVALENTS FOR INFANTRY-ONLY RANKS IN PARANTHESES):
Non-Commissioned:
Armsman (Trooper/Dragoon)—One bar.
Lance Corporal—One chevron.
Corporal—Two chevrons.
Sergeant—Three chevrons.^
Sergeant-Major (Staff Sergeant)—Three chevrons and crown.
Colour Sergeant—Three chevrons over an reversed chevron enclosing a crown.^^
Commissioned:
Ensign (Cornet)—One gold pip.
Lieutenant—Two gold pips.
Captain—Three gold pips.
Major—Pair of crossed swords.
Lieutenant Colonel—Two pairs of crossed swords.
Colonel—As with Lt. colonel, topped with a small crown. ^^^
General of Brigade—Two small crowns.
Lieutenant General—Three small crowns.
General-Royal—One large crown. ^^^^
^Sergeants usually lead cavalry patrols or infantry sections, the smallest individual units.
^^The Colour Sergeant is the most senior NCO in a Regiment. He is tasked with guarding the officer carrying the Regimental flag, or "Colours".
^^^colonel is the highest rank obtainable by purchased commission. General ranks must be earned by seniority and excellent service.
^^^^This rank is reserved for the King, as commander-in-chief.
- Location
- 1st World Country
Entering Fernandescourt
- Location
- 1st World Country
The harsh Cunarian sun beats down upon you as you step off the running board of your family's coach and onto the manicured courtyard of Fernandescourt's Old Fortress. The smell of horse manure and raw iron assaults your nostrils as a group of uniformed men thunder past on horses, herded by a stout, red-faced sergeant.
Under one shoulder, you carry a leather binder which holds the key to the rest of your life: a commission as a cornet in the Royal Dragoon Regiment, signed by His Majesty, the King himself. With it sits an order to report to your new Squadron Commanding Officer, Captain Alfred d'al Montez, at Fernandescourt immediately upon your arrival.
With one hand held over your temple to shield your eyes from the sun's glare, you quickly find what you are looking for: the open door to the old stone fort's citadel, where you will begin your career as an officer of His Majesty's Royal Dragoons.
You step through the heavy iron-banded doors into the blissfully cool interior of the citadel only to be nearly bowled over by the rush of clerks and aides scrambling to and fro like enraged hornets.
The outbreak of war with the League of Antar had come as a shock to no one. Still smarting from previous slights, the great and powerful lords of the League Congress saw their opportunity for vengeance appear when the untested teenage Prince Miguel succeeded his father upon the Gryphon Throne of Tierra.
It had been a calculated diplomatic move, or so the men of stately affairs had said: The Antari had expected the new king to cave. They had not foreseen the young monarch's response as he mobilized his fleet and army with determined force. They certainly had not expected the King to land troops on the Antari mainland itself.
Now, the entire country is abuzz as regiments like the Royal Dragoons ready themselves for battle, waiting to join the rest of the army across the Calligian Sea.
The great central chamber of the Old Fortress is a hive of activity. Staff officers and their aides move about in self-centred trajectories. A team of clerks push counters and check notes written on the maps which sit atop the tables in the centre of the room. On the wall above them, an oil portrait of the Duke of Cunaris, the regimental commander, peers down beneficently upon his flesh-and-blood subordinates.
While it would probably be a good idea to report to your future commanding officer immediately, it might also do to take a look around and familiarize yourself with the fortress. In the end, you Report in immediately. Thinking on it, you should make a good impression on your superiors first.
Captain Montez's office smells of old leather and stale coffee. The man himself is a small, pinch-faced fellow. A pair of spectacles balance atop the bridge of his short, stubby nose. He greets you formally and offers you a seat.
"I had the fortune to witness your arrival," he begins, waving at the open window behind him. "Do not doubt that I find it most gratifying when new officers are prompt in the following of simple instructions. I hope you will prove most useful to us."
You hand over your commission papers and orders. Montez scans over them quickly, his eyes darting back and forth behind his steel-rimmed spectacles. The Captain picks up a waiting quill pen and signs the papers with a fluid hand, making your commission fully official. Dropping the documents in a drawer, he shuffles through another pile of papers atop his desk, pulling one out.
"I am afraid that we shall need to go through a few formalities first, for the record, you understand." Montez picks up the quill pen again, ready to write.
"Name?"
"Louis, sir."
"Family name?"
"Maradirez, sir."
"Very well then, Louis d'al Maradirez, shall we take a moment to clarify a few facts about your early life and origins?"
"Region?"
"Salt Coast, sir." You grew up smelling the salt spray of the Takaran Sea. The rocky shores and winter storms of western Tierra have made you tough and hardbitten, but a hard life leads to a commonality with your follow westerners. From Havenport in the south to the northwestern island of Leoniscourt, the locals are happy enough to welcome you as a brother of the salt coast.
Your family is nobility of an old but relatively impoverished line, dating from before the days of Edwin the Strong. Although your house's material fortunes have waned over the past few decades, your family still bears a proud name and represents a fair amount of influence and capital.
As you were tested for banebloodedness, you were found to have a certain aptitute for banecasting. You were shuffled off to an undisclosed location for banetraining. However in training, you were quickly singled out for incompetency of not being precise enough in your banecasting, and was sent back to your household without an offer to join Enruners nor Banehealers.
"Age?"
"14, sir."
You're exceedingly young, that's for sure. The clerk at Grenadier Square nearly laughed in your face when you stepped up to buy your commission.
While your family may not have enthusiastically supported your decision to go to war, they understood the necessity of sending a son to fight for King and Country. As a result, you left home with your family's grudging pride. In addition, they presented you with a parting gift:
[ ]A banecast sword, with a blade sharper than any normal steel.
[ ]A custom-made uniform, which will make me stand out in a crowd.
[ ]A set of books on philosophy and the natural sciences.
[ ]A letter of introduction to the colonel of the regiment, praising my talents.
[ ]A letter of credit worth a substantial amount of money.
Armed with your gifts, you left home and bought your commission in the capital city of Aetoria, at Grenadier Square, the stately headquarters of the Royal Army. There, you learned that commissions for more prestigious regiments like the Grenadier Guards and the Wolf's Head Cuirassiers had been in such high demand that their prices had been inflated far beyond your meagre monetary means.
The best you could afford was a cornet's commission in the Royal Dragoons. It is hardly the most celebrated of regiments, but its rank-and-file are no band of thieves and thugs like the line infantry regiments either. Your new posting promises to be a respectable, if not an overly prestigious one.
You finish recounting the story of your circumstances to Captain Montez. Satisfied, he hands the complete dossier over to you for your signature.
You sign and push the folder back. Montez puts the packet of documents away and turns back to you.
"It is done then. Welcome to the Royal Dragoons, Cornet Maradirez. Your dormitory room is the third on the left. You shall be sharing it with two other cornets: Cazarosta and Elson. They have been in training for a few weeks already, so learn what you can from them. Your equipment and uniform shall be sent up to your room. You will, of course, be allowed to keep any personal additions to kit, as long as they conform to uniform regulations."
Glancing at your ears, Montez sits back in his chair with an air of finality.
"Your training begins tomorrow morning. Reveille is at six o'clock sharp. You are dismissed."
When you reach your new lodgings, you had a double-take. At first glance, your new lodging is hardly suitable for a man of noble birth. The chamber in which you will be sleeping for the duration of your training is a cramped and dusty affair, poorly lit and heavily built. The low, vaulted ceiling is just battered and worn enough to remind you of a prison cell. The acrid reek of old gunpowder clings to every surface. You get the distinct impression that your new bunkroom used to be some sort of powder magazine.
The room itself is sparsely furnished, possessing naught but three narrow cots arranged along the walls, with a table and chairs in the center.
At the table sits a slim, large-nosed boy of about sixteen, his light brown hair tied back into a long queue. He wears a shirt of cream-coloured silk, with silver lionheads embroidered tastefully on the rolled-up sleeves. The green-grey jacket of a Royal Dragoon officer hangs, carefully folded, from the back of his chair. He nods at you coldly as you enter, barely paying you any mind. His attention is firmly affixed to the flintlock pistol in his hands. You watch for a few moments as he works over the delicate steel lock mechanism with an oiled cloth, practiced hands polishing each crevice and hinge with well-practiced ease.
A full minute passes before the boy stops and sets the pistol down, apparently finished. He looks up, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.
"Oh, hello." His voice is hard and flat. "Who are you?"
Some of his bluntness felt like those of the folk back at home, so you brushed it off and extended your hand in greeting.
"Cornet Louis d'al Maradirez, at your service."
The boy stands up, setting the cloth carefully on the table. He gives you a respectful nod.
"Caius d'al Cazarosta, at yours."
He shows a hard, thin slash of a grin as he offers his hand to be shook, but you notice very little warmth behind his smile. His dark eyes remain as flint-hard as they were before. He is putting on a show for your benefit, but at least he is now making the effort to be hospitable.
He holds his grip for a moment as his eyes search your face. Then, there is a moment of recognition. "Come the storm?" he asks, offering the traditional greeting of the men of the Salt Coast.
"Not this day." You reply without hesitation, the traditional response leaping to your lips thanks to years of similar challenge-and-answer.
Cazarosta gives you a tight, vicious-looking grin, his lips taut over his teeth. "Another stormborn then. Good. You may be useful."
The door swings open again. A small pale boy in his late teens strides through. His sandy blond hair is dishevelled and his alabaster skin covered with bruises and scrapes, some half-healed and some fresh. He is filthy all over; dirt and sweat are heavily smeared over his fine features. The stink of leather and horse manure trails behind him as he makes his way to the far bunk. He takes one glance at you and Cazarosta, still in mid-handshake and shakes his head with disgust.
Cazarosta gives a cold chuckle.
"That would be Elson, Lord Davis d'al Elson, first son to the Baron of Hawthorne," he says, just loud enough for the other boy to hear. "Associate with him as you would like, but do not expect me to weep with you, should your poor idiot friend get himself killed."
Elson lays down on his cot and makes a conscious effort to ignore the two of you. He fishes out a small, well-worn book from the pocket of his trousers and begins to read. You realize that now would be a good time to try to get to know your room mates. Although Elson is now (at least pretending to be) fully engrossed by his book, you still have Cazarosta's full attention, and perhaps, his friendship. You ask 2 questions before you excuse yourself and get some sleep before tomorrow's training:
[ ]Ask Cazarosta about Elson's bruises.
[ ]Ask Cazarosta about Elson's book.
[ ]Ask Cazarosta about himself.
[ ]Ask Cazarosta about training.
Also, I rolled for your character's family name now that you aren't the son of an established Duke or Earl. Do vote to change or keep it:
[ ]Maradirez is fine, keep it as it is.
[ ]Castleton sounds better.
[ ]Sancroix is a fine family name worthy of our character.
[ ]None of these will do, write-in.
Under one shoulder, you carry a leather binder which holds the key to the rest of your life: a commission as a cornet in the Royal Dragoon Regiment, signed by His Majesty, the King himself. With it sits an order to report to your new Squadron Commanding Officer, Captain Alfred d'al Montez, at Fernandescourt immediately upon your arrival.
With one hand held over your temple to shield your eyes from the sun's glare, you quickly find what you are looking for: the open door to the old stone fort's citadel, where you will begin your career as an officer of His Majesty's Royal Dragoons.
You step through the heavy iron-banded doors into the blissfully cool interior of the citadel only to be nearly bowled over by the rush of clerks and aides scrambling to and fro like enraged hornets.
The outbreak of war with the League of Antar had come as a shock to no one. Still smarting from previous slights, the great and powerful lords of the League Congress saw their opportunity for vengeance appear when the untested teenage Prince Miguel succeeded his father upon the Gryphon Throne of Tierra.
It had been a calculated diplomatic move, or so the men of stately affairs had said: The Antari had expected the new king to cave. They had not foreseen the young monarch's response as he mobilized his fleet and army with determined force. They certainly had not expected the King to land troops on the Antari mainland itself.
Now, the entire country is abuzz as regiments like the Royal Dragoons ready themselves for battle, waiting to join the rest of the army across the Calligian Sea.
The great central chamber of the Old Fortress is a hive of activity. Staff officers and their aides move about in self-centred trajectories. A team of clerks push counters and check notes written on the maps which sit atop the tables in the centre of the room. On the wall above them, an oil portrait of the Duke of Cunaris, the regimental commander, peers down beneficently upon his flesh-and-blood subordinates.
While it would probably be a good idea to report to your future commanding officer immediately, it might also do to take a look around and familiarize yourself with the fortress. In the end, you Report in immediately. Thinking on it, you should make a good impression on your superiors first.
Captain Montez's office smells of old leather and stale coffee. The man himself is a small, pinch-faced fellow. A pair of spectacles balance atop the bridge of his short, stubby nose. He greets you formally and offers you a seat.
"I had the fortune to witness your arrival," he begins, waving at the open window behind him. "Do not doubt that I find it most gratifying when new officers are prompt in the following of simple instructions. I hope you will prove most useful to us."
You hand over your commission papers and orders. Montez scans over them quickly, his eyes darting back and forth behind his steel-rimmed spectacles. The Captain picks up a waiting quill pen and signs the papers with a fluid hand, making your commission fully official. Dropping the documents in a drawer, he shuffles through another pile of papers atop his desk, pulling one out.
"I am afraid that we shall need to go through a few formalities first, for the record, you understand." Montez picks up the quill pen again, ready to write.
"Name?"
"Louis, sir."
"Family name?"
"Maradirez, sir."
"Very well then, Louis d'al Maradirez, shall we take a moment to clarify a few facts about your early life and origins?"
"Region?"
"Salt Coast, sir." You grew up smelling the salt spray of the Takaran Sea. The rocky shores and winter storms of western Tierra have made you tough and hardbitten, but a hard life leads to a commonality with your follow westerners. From Havenport in the south to the northwestern island of Leoniscourt, the locals are happy enough to welcome you as a brother of the salt coast.
Your family is nobility of an old but relatively impoverished line, dating from before the days of Edwin the Strong. Although your house's material fortunes have waned over the past few decades, your family still bears a proud name and represents a fair amount of influence and capital.
As you were tested for banebloodedness, you were found to have a certain aptitute for banecasting. You were shuffled off to an undisclosed location for banetraining. However in training, you were quickly singled out for incompetency of not being precise enough in your banecasting, and was sent back to your household without an offer to join Enruners nor Banehealers.
"Age?"
"14, sir."
You're exceedingly young, that's for sure. The clerk at Grenadier Square nearly laughed in your face when you stepped up to buy your commission.
While your family may not have enthusiastically supported your decision to go to war, they understood the necessity of sending a son to fight for King and Country. As a result, you left home with your family's grudging pride. In addition, they presented you with a parting gift:
[ ]A banecast sword, with a blade sharper than any normal steel.
[ ]A custom-made uniform, which will make me stand out in a crowd.
[ ]A set of books on philosophy and the natural sciences.
[ ]A letter of introduction to the colonel of the regiment, praising my talents.
[ ]A letter of credit worth a substantial amount of money.
Armed with your gifts, you left home and bought your commission in the capital city of Aetoria, at Grenadier Square, the stately headquarters of the Royal Army. There, you learned that commissions for more prestigious regiments like the Grenadier Guards and the Wolf's Head Cuirassiers had been in such high demand that their prices had been inflated far beyond your meagre monetary means.
The best you could afford was a cornet's commission in the Royal Dragoons. It is hardly the most celebrated of regiments, but its rank-and-file are no band of thieves and thugs like the line infantry regiments either. Your new posting promises to be a respectable, if not an overly prestigious one.
You finish recounting the story of your circumstances to Captain Montez. Satisfied, he hands the complete dossier over to you for your signature.
You sign and push the folder back. Montez puts the packet of documents away and turns back to you.
"It is done then. Welcome to the Royal Dragoons, Cornet Maradirez. Your dormitory room is the third on the left. You shall be sharing it with two other cornets: Cazarosta and Elson. They have been in training for a few weeks already, so learn what you can from them. Your equipment and uniform shall be sent up to your room. You will, of course, be allowed to keep any personal additions to kit, as long as they conform to uniform regulations."
Glancing at your ears, Montez sits back in his chair with an air of finality.
"Your training begins tomorrow morning. Reveille is at six o'clock sharp. You are dismissed."
When you reach your new lodgings, you had a double-take. At first glance, your new lodging is hardly suitable for a man of noble birth. The chamber in which you will be sleeping for the duration of your training is a cramped and dusty affair, poorly lit and heavily built. The low, vaulted ceiling is just battered and worn enough to remind you of a prison cell. The acrid reek of old gunpowder clings to every surface. You get the distinct impression that your new bunkroom used to be some sort of powder magazine.
The room itself is sparsely furnished, possessing naught but three narrow cots arranged along the walls, with a table and chairs in the center.
At the table sits a slim, large-nosed boy of about sixteen, his light brown hair tied back into a long queue. He wears a shirt of cream-coloured silk, with silver lionheads embroidered tastefully on the rolled-up sleeves. The green-grey jacket of a Royal Dragoon officer hangs, carefully folded, from the back of his chair. He nods at you coldly as you enter, barely paying you any mind. His attention is firmly affixed to the flintlock pistol in his hands. You watch for a few moments as he works over the delicate steel lock mechanism with an oiled cloth, practiced hands polishing each crevice and hinge with well-practiced ease.
A full minute passes before the boy stops and sets the pistol down, apparently finished. He looks up, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.
"Oh, hello." His voice is hard and flat. "Who are you?"
Some of his bluntness felt like those of the folk back at home, so you brushed it off and extended your hand in greeting.
"Cornet Louis d'al Maradirez, at your service."
The boy stands up, setting the cloth carefully on the table. He gives you a respectful nod.
"Caius d'al Cazarosta, at yours."
He shows a hard, thin slash of a grin as he offers his hand to be shook, but you notice very little warmth behind his smile. His dark eyes remain as flint-hard as they were before. He is putting on a show for your benefit, but at least he is now making the effort to be hospitable.
He holds his grip for a moment as his eyes search your face. Then, there is a moment of recognition. "Come the storm?" he asks, offering the traditional greeting of the men of the Salt Coast.
"Not this day." You reply without hesitation, the traditional response leaping to your lips thanks to years of similar challenge-and-answer.
Cazarosta gives you a tight, vicious-looking grin, his lips taut over his teeth. "Another stormborn then. Good. You may be useful."
The door swings open again. A small pale boy in his late teens strides through. His sandy blond hair is dishevelled and his alabaster skin covered with bruises and scrapes, some half-healed and some fresh. He is filthy all over; dirt and sweat are heavily smeared over his fine features. The stink of leather and horse manure trails behind him as he makes his way to the far bunk. He takes one glance at you and Cazarosta, still in mid-handshake and shakes his head with disgust.
Cazarosta gives a cold chuckle.
"That would be Elson, Lord Davis d'al Elson, first son to the Baron of Hawthorne," he says, just loud enough for the other boy to hear. "Associate with him as you would like, but do not expect me to weep with you, should your poor idiot friend get himself killed."
Elson lays down on his cot and makes a conscious effort to ignore the two of you. He fishes out a small, well-worn book from the pocket of his trousers and begins to read. You realize that now would be a good time to try to get to know your room mates. Although Elson is now (at least pretending to be) fully engrossed by his book, you still have Cazarosta's full attention, and perhaps, his friendship. You ask 2 questions before you excuse yourself and get some sleep before tomorrow's training:
[ ]Ask Cazarosta about Elson's bruises.
[ ]Ask Cazarosta about Elson's book.
[ ]Ask Cazarosta about himself.
[ ]Ask Cazarosta about training.
Also, I rolled for your character's family name now that you aren't the son of an established Duke or Earl. Do vote to change or keep it:
[ ]Maradirez is fine, keep it as it is.
[ ]Castleton sounds better.
[ ]Sancroix is a fine family name worthy of our character.
[ ]None of these will do, write-in.
DangerKitty
shoddy writter
- Location
- lala land
[X]A banecast sword, with a blade sharper than any normal steel.
[X]Ask Cazarosta about training.
[X]Ask Cazarosta about Elson's bruises.
[X]Maradirez is fine, keep it as.
[X]Ask Cazarosta about training.
[X]Ask Cazarosta about Elson's bruises.
[X]Maradirez is fine, keep it as.
Is it really ok to do a quest with updates taken word for word from an actual CYOA game, The Sabres of Infinity?