Eleventh Century Remnant wrote:As for the searing of Kuquan (the country) being basically a grand scale chevauchee'- consider who might be able to give a straight answer to that question, and how likely they are to give it. The technique may have been close, but the organisation of the forces and of the people behind it and the politics of who stands to gain- it's not that simple.
Who and how likely- not many, and not very, and of course the details change, the Twentieth isn't a free company of light-to-medium horse, however much their name might suggest a resemblance.
But pursuant to the nominal (nominal I say!) objective of 'pacifying' Kuquan, "move fast and ruthlessly, burn out their people, draw out and demolish the local leadership, and keep it up until they're too traumatized and in too much disarray not to acknowledge you as their overlord" does seem to be the basic strategy. For some definition of "you" and "them," at any rate.
There are, naturally, wheels within wheels, but what are the odds of Larric Smith having even the faintest idea what they are? That's Larric thinking, not me talking, and out of character I don't have anywhere like enough information to guess what is going on behind the scenes. Didn't particularly ask for it, either, it would spoil things.
Put it this way. You did mention "doctrine of total war" once, and while the chevaucheé doesn't date from a period of total war, there is a real resemblance there, a recognizable ancestral form of Bomber Harris's dehousing campaigns. The network of justifications and rationales and motives shift a bit, but it's no worse a fit than calling Greco-Roman 'democracy' a precursor to Western democracy as we know it today.
Within Larric's frame of reference, I'd say it's a good guess and as close to true as makes no practical difference. Certainly, there's no real difference he'd see as important between the Countess's orcs burning down his shop as collateral damage and a band of hobilars burning out some peasant's village.
"Glad that you have thought of that. I'd hate to come back with our task complete only to find that something terrible has happened," says Bryan as she readies herself to heal Alfred.
Letting Catarin start on her healing spell, the well to do mercenary looks to the others and asks, "When do you favor moving the prisoner? I was intending to rest my horse here a night, but I could move within the hour if we decide that haste is the order of the day."
"Thank you." He sits quietly and waits to be healed. When she's finished, he gives her some money for her services and seeks out the rest of his armor.
"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer
S.L.Acker wrote:"Glad that you have thought of that. I'd hate to come back with our task complete only to find that something terrible has happened," says Bryan as she readies herself to heal Alfred.
Letting Catarin start on her healing spell, the well to do mercenary looks to the others and asks, "When do you favor moving the prisoner? I was intending to rest my horse here a night, but I could move within the hour if we decide that haste is the order of the day."
"I'm going to need a bit of time to put my affairs in order- somehow arrange to send a letter to Magnus. And fetch my pack mule from the stable. But aside from that... I don't suppose there will be much time to waste, will there? The faster we move, the less likely we are to get trouble."
"well look at this"' William says as he stands up from putting the boot into the fallen knight. "our escort here has offered to pay our travelling expenses!"
How much did the knight have on him, and is his axe better than mine? I'll also try to ensure that some of the make ther way into the other two yeomen's hands if they want them.
After this I'll be binding and gently interrogating my crossbow man prisoner to find out his side of the story. Chances are that I'll let him go when he won't be killed or attempt anything rash.
(OOC: If he needs help with interrogating him, Alfred can help. He'd do it just for the pleasure of watching him squirm.)
"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer
'As you wish, Catarin. If I may excuse myself, there are wounded to attend.' And with that, he'd slip off to help with stitching up the wounded from either side and making sure they're all well. If he catches wind of all this banter of selling things, he might even offer to help with that.
I've committed the greatest sin, worse than anything done here today. I sold half my soul to the devil. -Ivan Isaac, the Half Souled Knight
{I'm assuming that I have been moving the wounded around since it was the last bit I had talked about}.
I'm headed now to talk with the priests and get their thoughts on the conflict. And to purloin some healing supplies if I can manage it, (from the priests if they have it, otherwise not.)
the engines cannae take any more cap'n
warp 9 to shroomland ~Dalton
This is really just the potential for a minor interlude, one which doesn't need to hold up the plot- Larric can have done it 'before' events that take place on the road without distorting anything too much, I'd think. but for the sake of making it work...
...Are they or are they not having difficulty getting Baron Kardren's knight out of his magnetized greaves? Depending on the design, it might be as simple as unlacing some straps and yanking them off his legs in an intact (stuck together) pair, or it might be practically impossible to remove them for all I know.
Bryan looks to Larric and says, "As much as my mount won't like it I agree, the sooner we ride the better." With that said he heads to the inn to suit up into his armor and ready his stead.
As some of you may be aware, the basic problem with magical healing for trauma is a fairly severe form of post- operative shock; being rearranged, reknit, purged, slammed back together and told to cooperate and like it is like dropping a boulder into the pond of the patient's sense of self. Hallucinations, confusion, delusions, delirium- on a fragile mind the result can be devastating. On most adventurers, it simply makes them slightly crazier than they already are.
What she does to Alfred is start out by using anything but, using shaping magic to push the bones back into place- and that does sting. A lot. similarly animal, to help, before resorting to actual healing magic- and the pain is gone, the wound is fixed, but Alfred feels as if he's looking on a world that is washing up and down like a sping tide, from a viewpoint two feet above and slightly to the left of his head. It'll pass, and much more quickly than it would have done if she had just barged in and healed it directly- but this is the ideal opportunity for Alfred to have a moment of madness.
He gives her the money, she smiles and says thank you, Alfred's in no state to notice the strain in her expression, as soon as he's moved off a little she says to Bryan, handing him the coin, 'Tuck these back in his pouch when he's not looking, would you? I can't start taking money for the use of my gifts- it wouldn't end well.'
Over on the mercenary end of the universe, William doesn't have the deftness and sleight of hand he needs to pocket the coin without anyone noticing, so it will have to be sharing out time. Works out at about forty copper pieces each- mediocre travelling expenses for about thirty days on the road. One fo the yeomen does say 'I thought he'd be richer.'
Taking the crossbowman aside, and there will be an audience for this, and he will lie- actually to stop his head off- the short version is 'We were detailed off for it. Markus Kardren, the baron's brother, the one who thinks he's going to be the next baron, grabbed a handful of us and told us we were going to deal with a border problem for him, that the locals- damn' uppity peasants he called, he said- were getting out of hand so we were to be ruthless and enjoy ourselves.
I mean, when someone with the power of life and death says something like that, someone who, being ruthless and enjoying himself are kind of the same thing, you just nod and smile, don't you?
Then we got hauled up before Devian Velan- Kardren, the baron's brother in law, the one who plays with bones and thinks he's going to be the next baron, and told that we were to go and make sure our- he said that but he meant his- writ ran up at least as far as the woods, and he wouldn't take no for an answer, and when he's waving around an undead sabretooth tiger's skull on a stick at you as he's saying this, well...
Then on the way out we got grabbed by Pedar Garmon- Kardren, the baron's cousin, the one who sleeps in his armour, huts svartalfven for fun and thinks he's going to be the next baron, and told to make our way by fire and sword, put the fear of death into the bas- well, yes.
I'm not even going to talk about what Ryszart Kardren- the other cousin, the one who thinks he's going to be the next baron said to us at the city wall, he's been floating around that damn' ruined tower since he was a baby and inhaled too much of the scent- but he's evil. So evil the rest of them have noticed.
Basically we got sent up here with the idea that it was you or us.' he adds to the yeomen.
Eliska wanders over to the two priests, an older Hurani and a younger Ayralli, who are having a bit of an argument themselves. Apparently about whether or not human society is a form of plant. 'I tell you it's a growth, it doesn't obey any of the rules of a mechanism, it fixes itself usually in ways that make it different, is spreads in odd directions, we are basically the wild funghi round the base of the tree of possibility.'
'People are like that because they're alive- and incidentally are you calling me a mushroom?- but the thing itself is a thing, because it is made, the law is a mechanism, a crafted thing- sometimes damn' badly- and common law is the amateur version of the same- and besides which I rank you, we are not going to be organic about this.'
'We may have to be. You know perfectly well the baron doesn't care too much about the southern borders, didn't even when he was alive; if he can't defend us, what then? Our gods aren't fighting gods.'
'If you weren't so prissy about chopping down trees for timber I might show you different, lad- and let's have none of this balls about armed resistance disturbing the will of the gods, we do that every time we say 'Oi, God, any chance of a miracle or two?' I am not going to submit like a blade of grass.'
Started the day with an old axe, semi-worthless crossbow, no cash, no travelling companions, and no job.
Now have :
1 Silver, 75 Copper,
A new axe,
A new Crossbow.
Travelling companions - including a decent mage.
A job which appears to be offering even more financial gain.
Entertainment of watching a noble get humiliated, followed by another noble being mind bounced and turning into a temporary lunatic.
And it’s not even lunch time yet. William thinks this have been a very good day so far.
Time for a slap up breakfast at Mrs. Miggins' pie shop.
The Ikhrani reminds me of an encyclopedia volume I once saw: "Amen to Artillery." Larric supports his interpretation.
I'm going to assume they had a certain amount of trouble getting the knight's greaves off- and we really do need his name if we're going to deliver him somewhere. Consider this a rough draft of what I have in mind: noncanon but hopefully entertaining.
By now the knight may not have stopped wriggling and shouting, but I imagine he's all tied up with most of his armor off, so I doubt he's seriously trying to escape. The only remaining problem is getting him out of those leg irons...
Larric studies the problem. "Usually, when I need to untwist a piece of iron that's had this done, I just stick it in the coals and get it up to a nice dull red heat; that works like a charm..." The yeomen are probably interested, the knight probably wiggling and/or shouting more.
"...But that would be wrong here. Also-" to quell the yeomen- "it would spoil the temper of a fine piece of metal, and wouldn't that be a pity? So I guess... yes. I'll be back in a little while, I need to get something from my bags." Larric strides off at the pace of a preoccupied man who's trying to hurry up and get something interesting done.
He makes it to the house he was lodged at fairly quickly, rummages around in the bags he'd had slung over the pack mule, and locates what he's looking for... then examines it more closely and realizes he's going to need a razor. The congealed alchemical paraffin-based goop on that spool of wire must have melted together a bit in a few places in the fire after all. Borrowing that and carefully slicing the insulation apart without cutting down to bare metal is difficult enough.
By the time he makes it back to the square with that, a large slate and a piece of chalk, some of the yeomen have no doubt wandered off.
He writes on the slate for a while; some of the runes would be recognizable to a normal practitioner, some he probably had to make up as he went along or creatively reinterpret and hope they'd work anyway over the course of his own self-study... and the little doodled gear train down at the bottom is just an aid to mental focus, because he's going to need this to cycle faster than he can concentrate on it. He frowns at the knight.
"Please move, I need to be able to wrap this around your legs." He hefts the spool of wire. The knight expresses defiance. "Look, do you want these things off you now, or would you rather sit around in them all week?"*
He loops the wire, twists the ends together and runs them around the slate. The concept is actually relatively simple: run current back and forth through the coils, essentially trying to degauss the metal. The real trick is trying to get the current to cycle fast enough, that and convincing Nature that he's using enough current for the job.
This is done slowly and as gently as possible consistent with the goal; he is genuinely trying not to harm the knight, and feels no need to waste energy by trying to do it fast rather than as a set-piece.
_______
Sir Radulf is actually unconscious at the moment; he was never able to muster the energy to resist properly before he was jumped, and the first thing whoever inherits his armour is going to have to do is have the dents beaten out- unconsciousness being administered by blunt trauma. He could probably do with being healed, too; he's one giant bruise and a few cracked bones under there- although that might actually be the best way of taking him anywhere. None of his injuries look individually life threatening.
Apart from that, if the situation was urgent it would be dangerous to go into that much detail, take that much time over degaussing him and you're likely to be handed a pair of unfastened greaves and told 'All right, on you go then.'
Although the description- I like the insulation- is worth bonus points, and in this case makes the difference between success and failure. By the time the job is finished, most people will be packed and ready to go- a long, complicated but successful piece of work.
And yes, theological weeks, the three moons being nineteen, twenty- three and thirty- five days apart and requiring serious calculation to get any kind of calendar working.
He froths a bit during the healing, muttering things about werewolves and demons while he's under. And he's off searching for the rest of his armor, hoping it didn't get lost in the chaos. He finds it and starts packing up, along with the rest of his traveling gear, including multiple shaving razors (he rotates daily over the course of every five days).
"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer
Eleventh Century Remnant wrote:Sir Radulf is actually unconscious at the moment; he was never able to muster the energy to resist properly before he was jumped, and the first thing whoever inherits his armour is going to have to do is have the dents beaten out- unconsciousness being administered by blunt trauma. He could probably do with being healed, too; he's one giant bruise and a few cracked bones under there- although that might actually be the best way of taking him anywhere. None of his injuries look individually life threatening.
Good point. A man in lousy shape is unlikely to attempt anything ambitious.
Apart from that, if the situation was urgent it would be dangerous to go into that much detail, take that much time over degaussing him and you're likely to be handed a pair of unfastened greaves and told 'All right, on you go then.'
Although the description- I like the insulation- is worth bonus points, and in this case makes the difference between success and failure. By the time the job is finished, most people will be packed and ready to go- a long, complicated but successful piece of work.
The description just came to me, what can I say? I wanted to get it out there because it establishes his approach and methods fairly well. If he'd been in a hurry, he'd probably have tried something more brute-forcey and less interesting.
The way he did it resembles his normal approach more, because he mostly uses his art for experiment and craftsmanship, where taking the time to get it right, and pacing the work so you could do it all day without exhausting yourself (physically or magically), are part of the exercise. I figured we had half an hour to an hour before the group would be ready to leave, so the process I describe would actually be possible.
Fast and flashy is possible for him, but isn't second nature.
And yes, theological weeks, the three moons being nineteen, twenty- three and thirty- five days apart and requiring serious calculation to get any kind of calendar working.
[nods]
...[scratches head]
I assume there's a solar calendar into which the weeks are inserted, of course.
Tucking the coins into his own pouch Bryan says, "Of course, I'll ensure that these get back to him." Then he asks, "Is there anything else I can do for you at the moment, or should I be gathering my things and readying my horse?"
OOC: Looks like a not half bad time for a jump forward to us gathered and leaving, unless someone else has things that still need doing.
Ghetto Edit: Also, now might be a good time to do up a listing of the gear we're all starting with. I'll need to know the quality of my arming sword and bidenhänder, as well as what sort of mount and armor I have. Knowing if the puffed, slashed, cuffed, and rolled back look is popular would also help.
On a related note, in light of his skill lineup, does Larric have an actual crossbow mixed in with all that baggage? I think I need a DM call on that one.
Larric has likely forgotten all about that crossbow. He might think to appropriate one from the field if he hasn't already got one, but given ECR's guidelines (you have the tools to practice any skill which your character possesses to a quasi-professional level), it's quite possible he already has one of his own.
And coming from a background where tools are respected and a good artisan doesn't blame his tools for bad luck, he knows better than to break the rule:
Kipling wrote:When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch;
She's human as you are -- you treat her as sich,
An' she'll fight for the young British soldier...
Happy new year; I'd expected to be in a semi- comatose daze today, after the traditional Scottish hogmanay, but it was actually fairly quiet and my head is on straighter than I thought it would be.
Having gone over the character sheets, and absent plunder, this is what everyone ended up with;
everyone has clothes, unless they prefer otherwise. Some even have two sets. I usually only sweat things that have some rules effect, anything that involves more book- keeping than it adds meaning is bad, and I know the actual system needs a little pruning, which is why I'm doing the deriveds behind the scenes.
The threshold is actually a skill of 10- so good job, Kaelan, sneaking that crossbow in that you shouldn't actually have had- my fault really, I wanted to start in media res. Incidentally, none of you actually have the ability to manage a riding or pack animal, technically speaking, but I'm not going to sting you for something I should have caught earlier- and Simon did mention.
Bryan and Alfred have palfreys, not trained war horses- they'll have to dismount to fight. Larric has his mule. The rest of you are on Shanks' Pony- your own two (occasionally four) feet.
William Ballard has good quality reinforced leather armour, axe, shield, fish- hooks, snares, line and cord, knives, flint and tinder, a waterproof cloak, and probably a few other stolen odds and ends along the way.
Alfred has a very well made suit of plate (one of the derived values that's happening behind the curtain is 'fortune'; it's a product of the attributes, and any really significant bit of gear gets a fortune roll made for it. The better the success, the better the quality. Or the other way round.) a maul that seems to fit his hand perfectly, and a fairly flabby and docile hack of a riding horse that looks distinctly out of place under such a knight.
Fallard- a stout tree branch that's doing duty as a club, rain-cloak, blanket, knives, wire, cord and fishing line, tinder.
Eliska- same survival gear, leather bag with saws, scalpels, probes, common salves, needles and catgut, round shield with a few old dents in the boss but no worse for it, fairly crappy scale armour, flask of quartz dust, an exceptionally shiny axe- looks like the head's something better than steel.
Bryan; old- fashioned and not very shiny greatsword, well- fitted suit of plate, good quality palfrey
Larric has the bookbinding essentials- a roll of snips, scribes, probes, ink, quills, thread and glue, two larger rolls- unshorn sheepskins with pouches sewn into them, gives them some weatherproofing and padding- of laboratory glassware and clay pots, stands, some flasks of common substances, a remarkably patient pack mule and a club.
Rohal (where is feralgnoll, anyway?) has a poor- quality shortbow, probably through using it as an emergency melee weapon like they do in the stories but you cannot do in actuality, and an undistinguished axe.
