Might I ask, as a point of clarification, whether one might donate to multiple causes?
What good is it, I ask, if you teach a young sentient to read, but do not provide them any suitable material to peruse in their leisure time?
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What a lumping dance party!!! Like this is totally how my love story begins, isn’t it? A Grand March, a Double Quarille, and then that lumping sweet Waltzzz! It was better than a hot can of beans!
Like, I mean, I could have sworn I took a break for sandwiches, but those temporal glitches! You never know when these timelines collapse. This is for sure the best timeline, where I’m extra hot and sizzling. You know I should totally write a book about how I’m hot. It’d be like a best seller. And then maybe I could give out tips and junk! So everyone can like dance like me! They’d get so popular~~~
But getting sick was SO eye opening! I gotta live life! Hoarding all that money didn’t really make me happy. Spending it does! I am living my best life.
[ Dutchess Gummibuns finally reads the papers, having failed to do so in any timely manner. ]
Oh, my Glob, you guys, drama bomb! Like, I totally thought that cube was just boring and skipped the ball! BUT…
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One may certainly donate to multiple causes! It is only fit and proper that a landed estate support any individual cause to varying degrees as befit the interests of the household.
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This military commission - can we purchase commissions for other people?
Obviously, there’s nothing so base as a salary associated with the position, but is there a pension?
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Excellent! That is what I expected, but when one cannot make multiple investments or multiple wagers in a season, one feels the need to ask.
Thank you.
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Most certainly not! Purchasing a commission means in essences that your financial backing directly results in the support and maintenance of a body of soldiers of the appropriate size. You yourself are considered in command of that body of soldiers should they ever be called up to service.
No salary per se, but when command of the unit is relinquished under proper circumstances naturally, one will receive that invested measure back in full as a pension. In the meantime, one may look forward to all the respect and glory that such a position entails.
Also, it is worth mentioning that a lateral promotion from the Space Hussars of the Weatherbean Army to the Dragoons of the Weatherbean Space Navy is also possible if one can afford the differential. Although it may be said that the Dragoons never quite look upon an officer coming up from dirtside in quite the same way as one of their own, as one might recognize.
ETA: Additional Q&A regarding military commissions can be found in the Players Handbook
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“Okay, everybody, listen up. Word out there is that even if New Prussia isn’t getting ready to invade, we’re getting ready for them. That could mean conscription orders. If you get them, bring them to me… I can’t guarantee we’ll get out of this in one piece, but we can certainly try.” A nervous laugh runs through the newsroom, but everyone in it knows the truth: the Crown doesn’t care about Pretenders as anything other than cannon-fodder. The best they can hope for is an officer that thinks otherwise.
As far as that goes, he calls a meeting of his most trusted editors and reporters. His hands are shaking worse than at the Ball, and there’s not enough water on the entire planet to ease his dry throat. But this is the right thing to do, the only fair thing to do.
“Given current events, there’s likely a story coming that could hit us hard. If we can’t get out ahead of it, I don’t want you getting blindsided. I don’t know how this is going to shake out, or when, for that matter, but I think you have the right to know.” With that, he tells them the story. There’s silence through the entire thing and a little bit afterwards, before Skrissh confirms some of Liv’s earlier suspicions with a wisecrack. Liv bows his head, acknowledging the hit, and most of the tension dissipates from the room. He wishes he could tell them (and himself) that it will be okay, but there’s no way to know that. He hardly even dares hope.
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The drums of war beat louder, we all can hear it yet some insist in filling their ears with the pretty ayres of waltzes. I for one cannot do so. Capstanturnbuckles have been bred for action since time immemorial.
I shall have no use for my current opulent quarters, the funds saved can be spent on the improvement of Weatherby!
Rent Spartan Apartment
I once flew the Yellow Pennant as Commodore, now I find myself an Ensign. So be it, Duty before Pride.
Reinstate Ensign Hussars
Though I am not without means, and command is in my blood, so
Purchase Commission Space Dragoon Lieutenant
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Young Tom’s face pales
Right, back to the ol’ hammock I go.
Oooookay, off to the front it is then. Jolly good, sigh. Ah wells, maybe bein’ his valet I can strike up a deal with the Quarter Master, set aside a little something for when we come hom…
Ah cr@9. I’m dead.
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The military, eh?
Brummell had left before when he was posted to an unfashionable system. And it had been such a long time since he had been a Cornet.
At least his holographic nature meant he didn’t need to worry about fitting back into his old uniform.
Although he still had his doubts about the nature of the New Prussian threat. And now there was that delightful dance partner to consider.
Still, needs must. @Qaaxtzl! Fetch my trunk out of storage!
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Automatic door sliding silently aside, Damerl stepped onto the darkened and still bridge of his latest ship. Sliding a hand along the control panel to bring up the lights he felt the smooth precision of the finely crafted helm. ‘She’s a fine ship,’ he thought, ‘small, but quick.’ Even with the main reactors on cool he could feel her deck plates practically surging to break free of gravity, to race across the stars.
‘To what use shall you be? A ship of war or one to explore?’ His thoughts turned to the building tensions; would there be war with New Prussia? He could not tell, the motivations of those who fancied themselves the leaders of society had always baffled him. What matter the fleeting admiration gained for a night of wearing the latest togs? He looked upon his now antiquated patent boots- they still served well. Who cared what street your calling card named, did they not all lead to the same places? Was it not only the stars that promised freedom, where a sentient could truly test himself and find his measure? But no, those were not the ways here, and the lobster he was could not do but to defend this place and its sometimes foolish ways.
Of their forming military he reflected proudly though; those who had been tested in battle before had been the first to step forwards, and had given as much as they could to fund the outfitting of the troops. And old Frankenbeans, who would have known the madman had such experience?
No, no sentient could know what was to come, but this Damerl knew- no place rich as Weatherby could go forever without having to defend itself. An involuntary shudder ran down his carapace as he recalled the slaughter of the colonies on Nephropidae 3 and 7, they too had the arrogance to ignore a looming threat and instead walzted into annihilation.
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Liv, I hear you have a big scoop you are working on. Care to share?
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“Now, Lady Elizabeth,” Unlike his smile when he attempted to comfort her after the disaster of a ball, this one was more a baring of the teeth than anything indicating sympathy or warmth, “surely you realise that the nature of our business isn’t to share. I am hardly going to betray the hard work and loyalty my staff give to me simply because not enough freelancers have decided to offer their services.” He doesn’t add the part out loud that those who can afford to work at the rates she pays can’t also afford to do the kind of investigative work that full-time paid reporters can. So what if his best churn out two or three good stories a year – those stories are doozies and have given the Post-Ledger the reputation it has. A freelancer (especially one selling to Lady Elizabeth) has neither the time, nor money – or if they do, they unlikely have the motivation – to seek out the kind of stories she seems to crave. “I am sure you realise that the Ledger is always chasing stories, so I can’t possibly comment, even if I knew what you were talking about. As for ideas we’ve chosen not to pursue, surely you don’t want someone else’s leftovers for your dinner, do you?”
Do your own damn work, he thinks. The nerve to simply ask him to hand it over. He thinks suddenly about what he told her that morning after the ball. At least if I didn’t dance with anyone, it was by choice. It’s a nasty thought to be certain, but he suddenly feels his blood becoming as cold as hers. Either she really is the airhead she seems, or the entire thing is an act to get people to let down their guard and be manipulated until they can’t see straight. Option one, and she needs a few more good knocks before she realises that the world hands itself to nobody. Option two and it’s all the more reason not to play her game.
He sighs. “@Rumpthwaite, some hot water, please.” The galaxy is going to run out of willows before he runs out of headaches at this rate.
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I will devise something pun-ishing, I’m sure!
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Very good Doctor, most assuredly it will make an im-Prussian upon them!
It has been much too long since you and I have had the pleasure of each other’s company; I was just on my way to the Leviathan, care to join me?
Capstanturnbuckle eyed the Doctor surreptitiously. Surely the @Old man played the fool, but there was something behind those eyes, something truly wicked and cruel. Damerl hoped when the time came it would be on their side.
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“I like the hat.”
“Quiet, you.”
“No, really. It bringth out your eyeth.”
Sigh. “I have no patience for your whims and subterfuges, Ssskidwish.”
“Would you lithen to yourthelf? You’ve utterly drunk the Thkink-Aid and now you’re believing your own hype. You actually think that you’re Cathinogennifer Honeyvenom, Royal Ambathador to the New Prussian Empire.”
“And who else could lay claim to the title? You?”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“Don’t make me laugh, Captain, it hardly suits the dignity of my position to be seen rolling on the floor in mirth at the very idea of an aging salamander like you mincing about in Weatherbean drag, fending off dewy-eyed and moist-palmed advances from all the arthropod Sea Peas scuttling in every alley from here to the palace. Do you know, I once found you something substantially more than just ridiculous, but for the life of me I cannot think what.”
“They won’t retheive you.”
“The New Prussians? Of course they must.”
“They will thee right through you.”
“That, I am relieved to say, will be my own problem, and not yours to exacerbate.”
“I should be with you.”
“Ha! I know what you’d do, and I won’t hear of it. It’s because of the love our mothers bore for each other that I don’t reveal you right now as the would-be traitor you are. I won’t have you anywhere near these negotiations. You’d enter them with only a gimlet eye toward short-term personal profit, and you’d bring ruin down upon us all. I can but hope that the New Prussians are both wiser than and less opportunistic than you.”
“…”
“And that’s all I have to say about that.”
“Carthy…”
“What is it, Ssskidwish?”
“You mutht lithen to me.”
“I’ll hear you out upon my return. There is no time for your plots now.”
slam!
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Oh Liv @MalevolentPixy there is no reason to get snippy. Some of us in this industry do choose to cooperate. But your welcome to go it alone if you prefer. Becareful though, don’t put all your resources on this new prusssia threat. There are other much greater threats lurking.
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Liv accepts his hot water from @Rumpthwaite, never breaking eye contact with Lady Elizabeth @Hadley. It’s definitely option two, he decides. The threat is unmistakable. “You do what you see fit, Lady Elizabeth.” He wonders if she has some other predator skills. Can she hear the beating of a heart, or see the changing heatmap of a warmblood’s circulatory system?
He stands and collects his hot water, moving to a table at the other side of the club. Silently, he curses himself for not seeing it sooner. Clearly, her earlier devastation was mere crocodile tears, and he’d fallen for it, offering sympathy and drinks.
Of course, it could be a bluff. She could be trying to see if he’d inadvertently blab about any of the things the Post-Ledger is working on, which only shows how badly she may have misread him. Either way, he definitely has no intention of sharing her company – the creature is more venomous than a red-spot arachnoid looking for a quick snack.
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[GM Note: Turn 6 results are almost done being calculated and will be posted on Wed Mar 28 along with guidelines for our impending two-week intermission.]
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