The gasous vastness of ocher is in phlegmatic serenity. As if the time has stopped. Vacuous silence. As if nothing relevant is happening miles below.
Hollow screeching of metal under unforgiving pressure by a whirlwind of gears, subjected to punishment by a tempest of plasma and tachyon. Earsplitting repetitious howling of alarms. Hurricanes of fire. Murky faces hiding behind numerous mounds and craters of broken concrete, twisted, rusty rods and torn metal plates, over a devastated flatland of dirt that sunlight itself avoids. Below a soaring flag of spite. Below the majestic flutter of a stained tricolour Y, they dauntlessly hold their ground, knowing that they are not forgotten. They are Leeds. Agincourt, as the Gauls claim, forgetting the verdant countryside on old Earth. A purulent wound in Bretonia’s flesh. The Gate of Sirius.
Set out fearlessly, pride of Bretonia! Immortality beckons us! We shall deflect steel shells with our advancing chests! We shall split battleships with our mighty hands! Nothing will stop the victorious march of our Homeland! We will meet them again, in Agincourt. For our land! For our fallen! For our people! For our Queen! For Bretonia!
Code:
[font=Arial narrow][align=center][size=large][color=#FFFFFF]Bretonia Armed Forces Application Form[/color][/size][/align]
[color=#FFFFFF][size=medium]I. Personal Information[/size]
[indent][list]
[*] Your name and surname:
[*] Age:
[*] Region, House or Location of Origin:
[*] Are you a Bretonian Citizen?:
[*] Any useful experience and qualifications:
[*] Motivation for joining the Bretonia Armed Forces:
[/list]
[list]
[*] Short biography:
[/list][/indent]
[size=medium]II. Knowledge Questions[/size]
[indent][list]
[*] Quote the Bretonia Armed Forces motto.
[*] Who is the current admiral of the fleet of Queen Carina the First's Armed Forces?
[*] Who is the current fleet captain of Queen Carina the First's Armed Forces?
[*] What is the name of the Bretonia Armed Forces flagship?
[*] Enumerate the primary factions Her Majesty's Armed Forces are currently at war with.
[*] If you painted something on your ship, what would it be?
[*]Attachment: [url=http://discoverygc.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=8584&pid=290661#pid290661]Bretonian Charter of Interstellar Law[/url]
[/list][/indent]
[hrc]#FFAF00[/hrc]
[size=medium]// ooRP section[/size]
[indent][list]
[*] How would you rate your RP skills from 1 to 10?
[*] How would you rate your PvP skills from 1 to 10?
[*] What is your Discord address?
[*] Have you ever been sanctioned? If you have, what for?
[*] Do you agree to always be fair, considerate of other players and not to take inRP hostilities with characters to an ooRP level?
[*] What is your ooRP reason for joining the Bretonia Armed Forces?
[*] Can you fund your ship and equipment? The BAF| can provide you with limited credits or equipment if you can not.
[*] Are you aware that your character must be a Bretonian Citizen in order to be accepted?
And lastly, since you are interested in the BAF, maybe you would also like to join the [url=http://discoverygc.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=34262]Bretonia Police Authority[/url], the [url=https://discoverygc.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=133217]Bretonia Mining and Fabrication[/url], [url=http://discoverygc.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=56777]Bowex[/url] or [url=http://discoverygc.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=101342]Gateway[/url].
[/list][/indent][/color]
[/font]
A large, unshaven, scarred and bruised man walks up to the recruiters desk. His hands and feet are bound by manacles and his red beard is stained brown with what appears to be encrusted blood. Flanking him are two of the burliest guards that Newgate could spare. Unfortunately for the recruiter, who could be compared to a small child without much difficult, they too look scared out of their wits.
"They're tellin' me that if I sign up for this army forces deal, I can be getting out early? This true?"
The recruiter sinks into a chair, as if to disappear, when he speaks.
"Err, umm... yes. That would be correct. We have a special program for reforming convicts. You can end your sentence right now if you're willing to enlist." His timid voice barely echos from the pristine walls of the office.
"Then I reckon that's what I'll be doing. Tell me boy, this a dangerous gig?"
"No, sir. Most of the enlisted stay in the core, making sure that no pirate gangs get too uppity. Only those who volunteer are sent abroad against the Corsairs or the imperialist Kusari."
"Hmm. You do be bringing up a good point. Tell ya what, send me up 'gainst those Kusari folks. The Corsairs be a little too frail for the likes of me an' I wouldn't want to be getting bored or messin' up any of my friends on duty. Woowhee, they don't call me the Loonie for nothin'!"
"Are you sure, sir? We are at war, you realise."
"Damn right I'm sure! Mind unlockin' these manacles boys? They're chaffing my wrists something awful."
"I'm sorry, but that can't be done quite yet. I have to confirm your transfer with my superiors. If you would wait back in your cell, I'll have one of the guards come and tell you the results of your transfer."
"Nah, I'm alright here. I can wait for a bit. Not much more to do back in that cell anyhow."
The stubborn Bacon Mackenzie spreads his stance to shoulder width and stares at the recruiter, daring him to say something more. Fortunately for all involved, the recruiter picks up the forms and rushes into the hallway, presumable searching for a superior.
An immaculately attired man, in his early twenties, stepped up to the reception desk. The cut of his suit, the precision of his haircut, and his manner, indicated that he was a member of a well-off family. He moved with purpose and intent, managing to come off as mildly superior to everyone else in the room. He seemed to know what he was doing, and command respect.
"I say, is this where I join the Bretonian Armed Forces?" he asked "If it is, would you be as kind as to submit an application for me? Simon Aldwyn's the name, widely considered to be one of the best shots in Cambridge and New London, wishing to put my considerable skills into the service of The Crown, especially to safeguard our wonderous nation from those pesky outsiders, such as those noodle-munchers I have heard so much about in the news recently. So, where do I sign?"
The Staff Sergeant looked up from his scone at the new arrival, grunted something partially intelligible, then handed him a clipboard, requiring basic information for enrollment.
He indicated where the man should sign, once the form was completed, and watched as he filled out the form in an immaculate hand, and signed with a flourish.
"Bloody Blue Bloods", thought the Sergeant.
Once the clipboard was completed and returned, the Staff Sergeant smiled broadly (there was scone in his teeth), and extended a greasy handshake.
"Welcome to the Armed Forces Lad!", he exclaimed, and directed him onwards for further processing.
She fidgets as she walks through the door. Glancing at her reflection in the wall display as she enters, she does one last check to make sure she is presentable.
"Hello. I am Elsie Robirds. I am here to tender an application for the Bretonian Armed Forces."
The aide looks up at the small woman with soft features and nearly laughs.
"What makes you think that you have what it takes to protect us against the likes of Molly's and Lane Hackers?"
She was ready for this. Elsie had gotten used to being underestimated.
"Sir, I can fly a ship better than some and as well as most. My aim is good enough. The bottom line is that I have no where else to turn. Not everything is as simple as it seems."
The aide gets a quizzical look on his face and brings out a clipboard.
"Alright then lets get the basics down, you said your name already, how old?"
"23"
"Homeworld?"
"Cambridge"
"Family members?"
"None."
The aide looks up. "What do you mean by that?" She looks down uncomfortably and shifts her weight. She had not wanted it to become about this ... but she can't lie to the recruiter.
"My Mother, Father, and two older brothers are dead. I have no immediate family."
Aide looks out the window to avoid eye contact at this point. "I'm very sorry"
"I don't want your pity. My family was murdered by pirates inside the Cambridge system. All I want is a chance to keep this from happening again to another family. Maybe I'm here partly for my chance at revenge, I hope thats not why I'm here ... but either way I have to do something. Give me a chance?"
A man walked into the recruitment office. he was tall for his age, and well built. his hair was long and streight. he was wearing a jacket, jeans, boots and gloves. He slammed his hands on the desk, startling the aide.
"Is this where i come for the bretonia armed forces"? he said.
The aid relaxed when she heard this
"You look the type to join, anyway how old are you sir"? she asked
"I am twenty seven next month" the man replied
The aide seemed to think for a while
"Well what makes you think that you have what it takes to join the armed forces"? she inquired
"Well. people keep saying about these pirates...uh Mollys thats it, they seem to keep attacking civilian and militery ships. to be honest i have had it with my trade lane getting disrupted and finding mollys. its time for me to defend the people". the man said
The aide took in these words then wispered "what is your name"?
The man looked at the aide and said "Joseph Conrad"
With that the aide stood up, started to walk out of the door and then turned round and said "come back tomorow. I will file my report to my superiors. We will see what they have to say".
The doors into the recruitment office swung open, and a long-haired, tall young man steps through into the office. He looks around, taking in his surroundings with his sharp eyes, then looks at the recruitment officer.
"Excuse me, is this where I sign up for the Bretonian Armed Forces?" he asked.
The officer looks up from his massive paperwork stack with an irritated expression.
"Yes, yes, just fill this in now," he snaps, sliding a form over to him.
The man stares at the officer for another second, then sits down, pulls out a pen and begins to write.
Name: Elliot Tyler
Age: 23
Place of birth: London City, Planet New London
Describe briefly your reasons for joining: Well, I got some basic combat experience on the simulators, and then I applied to fly an escort fighter for Gateway. I scored well in the tests, and progressed through to active duty. However, it wasn't all it was made out to be. The pay was terrible, the ships were out-of-date and pirate attacks just kept getting frequenter. On one of my escort runs, a Molly force of about six fighters attacked our convoy of two trains and three escort fighters, including me. The Molly hardware was superior to our own, and though we took down four of them, the other two destroyed the convoy and us three escorts, leaving us floating in space. Cursing, I decided that when I got back planetside I would join up to the Armed Forces where I could make a real difference, instead of flying escort for some diamonds or whatnot in a rustbucket Startracker.
The man puts his pen down, stands and smoothly places the sheet on top of the stack of paperwork, sweeping round and out of the building. He didn't much like that recruitment officer.
The Fleet Admiral looked at the new recruits quizzically.
"Ensigns Tyler and Conrad."
"Sir", in unison, came the answer.
The Admiral was amused. All Drill Sergeant at first, the new ones, till they flew a dozen or so missions. Then their use for military protocol lessened. This wasn't the Army.
"You lads want to fight Mollies, it says here. Well, there are quite a few in Dublin waiting for you. Get going. Report to your Squadron Commanders."
He handed them their orders.
"Dismissed!"
The two saluted in unison, then did about turns, then went out the door.