The Steam Age brought with it flourishing industry and plentiful food. Where farms once put out only a fraction of their potential yield, the addition of machinery made it possible to harvest twice a year, even thrice in some areas of the Empire. Great factories blossomed in the capital, planting down miles of conveyors and workshop forges wherever they spouted. Thousands of men, women and children gained employment, ensuring the production of goods never stopped. The economy boomed. A golden age of technology had begun. Unfortunately, the age of steam brought its own set of terrors along with it too.
As time went on, the eternal hunger of the great factories grew. There was never enough tin and copper for the workshops, never enough coal for the fires of the forges. Panic began to set in with the nobles as unemployment and civil unrest increased. The imperial court hadn’t accounted for the lack of natural resources. Troubling news reached His Imperial Majesty. Dissent was being bred in general populace by a party of blacksmiths who’d found themselves without steady pay as the production lines ran dry. Primarily young men, these dissenters were slowly growing more and more restless. Something had to be done and quickly. An awful realisation dawned on the young Emperor. For as long as the Empire had existed, a small nation had sat between its border and that of another monarchy’s. For centuries, it had acted as a buffer between the two greater powers. With little to no military might themselves, the smaller nation acted as somewhat of a vassal to the monarchy, paying a yearly tithe to remain allied and under the monarchy’s protection. A land of plenty, the smaller nation had remained dutiful in paying its tithe and as a result, no small amount of good faith has grown between the monarchy and its vassal. If the Empire was to take the smaller nation, they would gain enough land to once again supply the factories with the metals they needed. The subsequent war with the monarchy would allow the empire to thin out the ranks of dissenters.
In his hubris, His Imperial Majesty believed that the war wouldn’t drain more resources than what could be gained. None of his sycophants would object to his proposal and so, the plan was set into motion. A fake attempt was made on the Emperor’s life by a supposed radical from the smaller nation who was swiftly executed after the attempt failed. Patriotism bloomed in the people as heavily altered rumours of the event spread throughout the Empire. The moment the noble courts put out a call to arms, young men from across the Empire flocked to answer it. Those who didn’t were considered cowardly and weak, squashing any sympathy the dissenters might’ve otherwise gotten. Now with an army under his command, the Emperor ordered his forces across the border so that they could conduct an ‘investigation’ into this assassination attempt. Marching clear across the small nation without encountering much resistance, the imperial forces built hundreds of miles of trenches running up and down the border with the monarchy. Infuriated by this, the opposing monarchy’s Queen ordered the construction of similar trenches running parallel to the Empire’s defensive line. It wouldn’t be long before the inevitable happened. No one truly knows who fired the first shot. Loyalists claim it was the monarchy’s forces, dissenters claim it was imperial troops. What is known is what lengths man will go to in order to win. A defensive war turned to a war of attrition as the two entrenched sides battled for control of the same no-man’s land day-in and day-out. New developments had to be made for either side to win and the age of steam was happy to provide, First came the rotary guns, portable powder weapons that could cut down swathes of men in seconds. Next came the arched cannons, capable of firing above and into enemy trenches. In the last years of the war, with both sides desperate for any form of an advantage, the most terrible weapon of all was utilized. Poisonous smog was unleashed without mercy on enemy lines. A thick fog that burned the skin of those it met and made them rot from the inside out. The war was fought meter by bloody meter.
The Recruiter had heard stories of the horrors seen on those battlefields. He knew that in those conditions, men were shattered and either remained husks of their former selves or were forged anew in the fires of war. Blackdraw Isle was a dangerous place, no-man’s land just as lethal as the muck of the Great War. He needed men who’d already been through the worst of it. Hundreds of imperial and monarchical regiments of foot had seen service in the war, but only a few stood out as truly exceptional. Among these was His Imperial Majesty’s 105th Regiment of Foot. Known as the ‘Men of Thunder’ for their suicidal tendency to charge without ceasing artillery fire, the Recruiter figured he’d found what he was looking for. Traveling across the empire in search of veterans of the company, a pattern began to emerge. There was one among them who was more unyielding than the others. Lieutenant Richard Kingston. Whenever the Recruiter would bring up his name around the veterans, they all said nearly the same thing. Kingston was described as ‘bloody mad’ and ‘about as tough as shoe leather’. He was the first over the top whenever the lads were made to charge, moving forwards ahead of the pack at a reasonable pace, armed with nothing more than his officer’s sable, a pistol and two grenades. During trench raids, his band of men became known as ‘Kingston’s Conquerors’ for their efficiency. Whenever they’d head out, Kingston was always the first out of the trench and the last to return. One trench sapper described to the Recruiter how, after a failed charge, they’d found Kingston crawling his way back through the mud and barbed wire of no-man’s land, half dead and with enough lead in him to resupply the whole defensive line. When he was brought to the field hospital, they had to strap him down whenever he’d wake from his exhaustion to keep him from escaping -back- to the front. The sapper claimed that when he’d asked Kingston how he’d survived, he’d simply answered that his love for his Emperor had kept him going. That he hadn’t been given the order to die just yet.
When the Recruiter went looking for Kingston, he’d half expected to find a beast of a man. Anyone who could survive what he had was sure to be some sort of monster. The trench sapper had directed the Recruiter to the Imperial School of Gunnery. When the Recruiter asked for the Lieutenant by name, he was shown to a small, impeccably clean office on the far side of the complex and told to wait. What stepped through the office door surprised the Recruiter to no end. A hawkish man, no larger than the Recruiter, in a pristine officer’s winter coat and with a set of sideburns that connected to a greying moustache. The wiry figure introduced himself as Lieutenant Kingston of His Imperial Majesty’s School of Gunnery and asked the Recruiter his business. After the Recruiter had managed to recover, he laid his reasons for seeking the Lieutenant out bare. He told him of the Isle, the riches that awaited, the glory to be won for His Imperial Majesty and of the danger they’d face. The prospect of exploring new lands for the Empire perked the Lieutenant’s interest but it was the potential danger that truly drew him in. After having adjusted his coat, the Lieutenant accepted the proposal.
The Recruiter had found his third “partner”: Lieutenant Richard Kingston, Formerly of His Imperial Majesty’s 105th Regiment of Foot.
As time went on, the eternal hunger of the great factories grew. There was never enough tin and copper for the workshops, never enough coal for the fires of the forges. Panic began to set in with the nobles as unemployment and civil unrest increased. The imperial court hadn’t accounted for the lack of natural resources. Troubling news reached His Imperial Majesty. Dissent was being bred in general populace by a party of blacksmiths who’d found themselves without steady pay as the production lines ran dry. Primarily young men, these dissenters were slowly growing more and more restless. Something had to be done and quickly. An awful realisation dawned on the young Emperor. For as long as the Empire had existed, a small nation had sat between its border and that of another monarchy’s. For centuries, it had acted as a buffer between the two greater powers. With little to no military might themselves, the smaller nation acted as somewhat of a vassal to the monarchy, paying a yearly tithe to remain allied and under the monarchy’s protection. A land of plenty, the smaller nation had remained dutiful in paying its tithe and as a result, no small amount of good faith has grown between the monarchy and its vassal. If the Empire was to take the smaller nation, they would gain enough land to once again supply the factories with the metals they needed. The subsequent war with the monarchy would allow the empire to thin out the ranks of dissenters.
In his hubris, His Imperial Majesty believed that the war wouldn’t drain more resources than what could be gained. None of his sycophants would object to his proposal and so, the plan was set into motion. A fake attempt was made on the Emperor’s life by a supposed radical from the smaller nation who was swiftly executed after the attempt failed. Patriotism bloomed in the people as heavily altered rumours of the event spread throughout the Empire. The moment the noble courts put out a call to arms, young men from across the Empire flocked to answer it. Those who didn’t were considered cowardly and weak, squashing any sympathy the dissenters might’ve otherwise gotten. Now with an army under his command, the Emperor ordered his forces across the border so that they could conduct an ‘investigation’ into this assassination attempt. Marching clear across the small nation without encountering much resistance, the imperial forces built hundreds of miles of trenches running up and down the border with the monarchy. Infuriated by this, the opposing monarchy’s Queen ordered the construction of similar trenches running parallel to the Empire’s defensive line. It wouldn’t be long before the inevitable happened. No one truly knows who fired the first shot. Loyalists claim it was the monarchy’s forces, dissenters claim it was imperial troops. What is known is what lengths man will go to in order to win. A defensive war turned to a war of attrition as the two entrenched sides battled for control of the same no-man’s land day-in and day-out. New developments had to be made for either side to win and the age of steam was happy to provide, First came the rotary guns, portable powder weapons that could cut down swathes of men in seconds. Next came the arched cannons, capable of firing above and into enemy trenches. In the last years of the war, with both sides desperate for any form of an advantage, the most terrible weapon of all was utilized. Poisonous smog was unleashed without mercy on enemy lines. A thick fog that burned the skin of those it met and made them rot from the inside out. The war was fought meter by bloody meter.
The Recruiter had heard stories of the horrors seen on those battlefields. He knew that in those conditions, men were shattered and either remained husks of their former selves or were forged anew in the fires of war. Blackdraw Isle was a dangerous place, no-man’s land just as lethal as the muck of the Great War. He needed men who’d already been through the worst of it. Hundreds of imperial and monarchical regiments of foot had seen service in the war, but only a few stood out as truly exceptional. Among these was His Imperial Majesty’s 105th Regiment of Foot. Known as the ‘Men of Thunder’ for their suicidal tendency to charge without ceasing artillery fire, the Recruiter figured he’d found what he was looking for. Traveling across the empire in search of veterans of the company, a pattern began to emerge. There was one among them who was more unyielding than the others. Lieutenant Richard Kingston. Whenever the Recruiter would bring up his name around the veterans, they all said nearly the same thing. Kingston was described as ‘bloody mad’ and ‘about as tough as shoe leather’. He was the first over the top whenever the lads were made to charge, moving forwards ahead of the pack at a reasonable pace, armed with nothing more than his officer’s sable, a pistol and two grenades. During trench raids, his band of men became known as ‘Kingston’s Conquerors’ for their efficiency. Whenever they’d head out, Kingston was always the first out of the trench and the last to return. One trench sapper described to the Recruiter how, after a failed charge, they’d found Kingston crawling his way back through the mud and barbed wire of no-man’s land, half dead and with enough lead in him to resupply the whole defensive line. When he was brought to the field hospital, they had to strap him down whenever he’d wake from his exhaustion to keep him from escaping -back- to the front. The sapper claimed that when he’d asked Kingston how he’d survived, he’d simply answered that his love for his Emperor had kept him going. That he hadn’t been given the order to die just yet.
When the Recruiter went looking for Kingston, he’d half expected to find a beast of a man. Anyone who could survive what he had was sure to be some sort of monster. The trench sapper had directed the Recruiter to the Imperial School of Gunnery. When the Recruiter asked for the Lieutenant by name, he was shown to a small, impeccably clean office on the far side of the complex and told to wait. What stepped through the office door surprised the Recruiter to no end. A hawkish man, no larger than the Recruiter, in a pristine officer’s winter coat and with a set of sideburns that connected to a greying moustache. The wiry figure introduced himself as Lieutenant Kingston of His Imperial Majesty’s School of Gunnery and asked the Recruiter his business. After the Recruiter had managed to recover, he laid his reasons for seeking the Lieutenant out bare. He told him of the Isle, the riches that awaited, the glory to be won for His Imperial Majesty and of the danger they’d face. The prospect of exploring new lands for the Empire perked the Lieutenant’s interest but it was the potential danger that truly drew him in. After having adjusted his coat, the Lieutenant accepted the proposal.
The Recruiter had found his third “partner”: Lieutenant Richard Kingston, Formerly of His Imperial Majesty’s 105th Regiment of Foot.