Tahminah Mina bint Yasmin al-Lasalle & Ravshana Marika bint Yasmin al-Lasalle
For many centuries we Lasalle have been in the district of Douai-Samarkand. We have never sought out the high domestic offices in such times of peace such as ours, being content to attend on our own affairs. Yet, ours is an ancient race of heroes and it commands respect for martial deeds; the ringing cry of keen swords in Lasalle hands – and none alive or dead dare despise a Lasalle sabre – is a refrain of history. In the wrack of turmoil one finds us.
So many victory titles decorate our genealogy, as though the span of man’s endeavors were nothing but a roll of battle honors to our name. I could not speak of all them even were I limit myself to the first millennia of the Phoenix Empire! Was not the very Shahrbaraz, right hand of the first Phoenix herself, a Lasalle? Naudar the Marshall Who Overthrows the Caitiffs, Shayhrara the Verethegna, Ozra the Admiral Who Plucks Out Odin’s Eye, Shirin the First of Pehlivas, Malala one of the five Tiger Admirals...
Don’t frown like that - patience - your face will get stuck that way.
Oh, the taeguk, you recognize it of course? The “Great Polarity” is one of the Phoenix’s symbols: a circle, red on one half, blue on the other, like comets chasing each other’s tails, and inside them a little point of the opposite color: red in blue and blue in red. It is a swirl of conflict, a spiral describing Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yeung, Light and Darkness, Right and Wrong, Unity and Division, the universe and Spiral of Origin itself. Remember this, it is important.
I first learned I was parturient not from a doctor, but from a traveling dervish. I happened across her – or perhaps it would be more accurate to say she sought me out – in the backcountry. To a few is given the gift of foresight, to read the future in the roll of the heavens over our heads as one would a book. Spurred by the urgency of ecstasy she drew for me three symbols: the comet, the sword, and the taeguk.
From them I was to take such a meaning. I would have two children in whose time the Heavens would be perturbed by awful calamity. If divided in their will the Empire would be riven in twain, but whosoever held both their loyalties would rule the stars.
I laughed in her face. Who could expect anything less of Lasalles?
A Thousand and One Story-Lives
Crossing Swords
Today I, Captain Ravshana, will duel my sister Tahminah. The Regiment expects it. Honor demands our fifth duel.
I see her standing on the other end of the clearing in the garden, resting a hand on the hilt of her spadroon, as I flourish with my sabre, turning and wheeling about the green sward and whirling my sword in moulinettes as if shadowfighting multiple opponents. I don't try to look but I know - I know - she’s staring at the sky over my head with a slight, schooled little frown that screams disinterest. It’s one of the many tiny things she does that pisses me the fuck off. We’re twins, we look so exactly alike that the only way our mother would tell us apart was the ribbons she put in our hair, but one day I woke up everyone started addressing her first while I fidgeted at her elbow like a shadow, ignored as the troublemaker. How does this shit even happen?
What is baffling further still is why she chose the dragoons, with their doldrum uniforms and bad postings, but it somehow I've ended up bringing up the rear. Tahminah is the Model Officer, on the fast track. She’ll be granted permission to raise her own regiment soon enough. I'm behind, always behind. It’s a struggle to keep up.
I conclude my flourish with a few cute little bows, legs crossed at the ankles. Our audience applauds. I hope the weather improves for them, because there’s stormclouds moving on the horizon, and it’d be a shame for anyone to get drizzled on.
My second lifts his eyes from the blue cast of his pocketwatch, “It’s time.”
I snap to attention and kiss the guard of my sabre. Across the little island I can see Tahminah mirroring the gesture with her spadroon. I wink at her. Her green eyes reflect nothing, but her lips turn ever so slightly at the corners.
Today I, Captain Tahminah, will duel my sister Ravshana. The Regiment expects it. This will be our fifth duel.
The garden is beautiful around me. I like gardens. A green space like this is one aspect of perfection. When I go to heaven the angels will greet me with green lawns and countryside, with ice cream and sweets and a truly fast jet cycle. I can rarely indulge such things. I am the elder child of the Lasalle family. I have a responsibility.
I expect her to be late, late or hung over. That, I think, is how I won our second duel. My damn sister, how effortlessly she does all this. My opposite and my twin. She winks and me, I try not to smile and almost succeed. My sister, my easy sister who never seems to have to work at anything. While I practiced at command, the sword, piloting, she drinks and carouses and still somehow manages to match me every step. She won the honour of a red and gold hussars uniform through skill and temperament, while I became a dragoon, a lower class of warrior, beneath my name, so she always tells me.
That uniform could have been yours if you’d wanted it. You didn’t. You swore you’d carve the universe with the weapon you love. Stop thinking and fight.
Our blades cross, and we begin to play the familiar tune.
In the Cradle
The thunder in my ears, the flicker of blackness at the edges of my vision.
In my chair I am naked against space, stars all around. Not even the comfort of a planet below. The stars race crazily in my vision, like windblown snow
My sister, my family, they wonder how I can do this. Proper little Tahminah, why does she fly a dragoon of all things? Such a low class of fighting.
There is no up, there is no down. There is only infinity. I am suspended between two points in the void. My ship and the enemy.
To take into battle only yourself and your rude mechanical servants. To fight in atmosphere, without even the honour of seeing your opponent. Almost helpless against the large vessels of the enemy. An outmoded form of war, not fit for true noble spacers. A dragoon delta. Too small to be a space ship, too big to have even the primitive pomp of a lightweight. Hybrid troops. The worst of all things
I am not alone. No one else was foolish or qualified enough to come out here with me. Around me are my weapons, automated combat systems slaved to my fighter. One is ahead, two are behind. Fire reaches out from the reaver craft ahead. The lead drone dodges frantically then explodes. It dies to get me close. I jink, right, jink left, jammers filling space with electronic ghosts, decoys trailing away. DSM leave the racks and spiral ahead. I pour in behind them, angling my ship for the shot on pirate's forward turret.
They don't understand. They don't understand the feel of a fighter under you. Of knowing your life and your death are in your own hands. They wonder how good little Tahminah can do this. They should ask why she does anything.
I squeeze the firing stud. The fighter vibrates to the beat of the guns. "Enemy point defence destroyed! Phoenix, You're clear!"
This is only part of my life where I am truly in control.
Cavalry and Dragoon ships
In the Empire there are two general design philosophies: the Ships of the Wall and the Cavalry. The former are solidly protected and bristling with long range firepower, the Battleships and Heavy Cruisers, who form the backbone of walls of battle with their dense overlapping fire. If they can be said to have a fault it is speed, for no Ship of the Wall has been mistaken as capable of rapid maneuver and a formation once broken often has little chance of reforming. No master of ships bothers to ask them to hunt, to chase - any act where celerity and audacity are chief amongst virtues.
For these tasks the Empire calls upon the Cavalry.
There are few postings with the romance of an Imperial Cavalry vessel, lance armed warriors riding through the star lanes. Here and gone again in twinkling leaving behind only the swirl of stellar dust, they raid beyond the Blue/Red Line or The Wall, prowl and hunt for the enemy ahead of the fleet in lone squadrons, in battle charge at a gallop in masses to the decisive point again and again, harry and board the survivors in the rout. The cavalry are an independent and flexible arm.
Amongst the Cavalry are a separate breed, the Dragoons, with little of the glamor and dash of traditional cavalry nor the solid respect accorded to the Ships of the Wall. They are large parasite STL battlecraft, hitching a ride between stars, able to perform like a warship several times their mass without the expensive impediment of a stardrive. Of their many virtues, the chief is that they are quite cheap, a fact which particularly recommends them for thankless but exhausting security and policing duties. Tragically the very nature of the onerous, stupefying petty taskings they are assigned oft means Dragoon units rarely receive the supplies and maintenance they are wonted. Between their mean reputation and the spartan austerity of their quarters and amenities these regiments almost never attract the talent that could exploit them to full effect.
Aristocratic in reputation the Cavalry commands highlight the social friction and fault lines of Imperial society and class that run through its armed forces. Most Cavalry units are Starforce, recruited and organized to private whims. In sharp contrast to the norm, most Dragoon squadrons are provided from the Imperial Navy.
Tahminah Mina bint Yasmin al-Lasalle & Ravshana Marika bint Yasmin al-Lasalle
Tahiminah Mina bint Yasmin al-Lasalle
- Virtue: The greatest dragoon
- Vice: Ice cold martinet
- Rank: Eldest daughter of house al-Lasalle, one of the greatest in the empire
- Military Rank: Lt. General (Brevet Marshal of the New Colonies), Warlord of the Empire
- Allies: Ravhana, Yasmin al-Lasalle, (Her mother) Lt. Beatrice al-Monad (assistant), Miranda (Her batwoman/maid)
- Enemies: Ravhana, Major al-Smythe The Royal Blue's XO, Duke Askar Michael ibn Ibrahim al-Gramont, an older man she had an affair, and a terribly bitter break up with.
- Politics: Not an emperor of merchants but an empire of conquerors!
- Religion: No one is in control of my destiny but me but one must maintain appearances
- Economic views: Quality things to those of quality.
- Rival Twins
- Nothing is ever easy
- Unlucky in love
- The Royal Blue Dragoons
- The Battle of Platform September (in which she won a name for herself)
- Bringing a Dragoon to a free space engagement (and winning)
- Aspirations and Goals: Do deeds worthy of her house and name.
- Piloting: Expert
- Imperial Officer: Expert
- Personal combat: Professional
- Social Etiquette: Professional
- Literature: Professional
- Making Friends: Terrible
- Managing her love life: Terrible
- Resisting sweet things: Terrible
- Suffering fools: Terrible
Space Princess Personhood:
- Smarts
- IQ 5
- Wits 5
- Social
- Charm 2
- Cunning 5
- Strength:
- Durability 4
- Physical Action 6
Skills:
Court
- Black Mail 1
- Horse Trading 2
- Chummy 0
- Bureaucracy 2
- Legal 0
- Speech Giving 2
- Plotting 2
Military
- Ship Command
- Helmsmen 4
- Gunnery 4
- Leadership 1
- Squadron Command
- Maneuver 3
- Formation 3
- Command 4
- Fleet Command
- Maneuver 3
- Formation 3
- Command 3
Demesne
Heir to a Countess
Flagship
The Jeanne De Arc
Fast Battleship 10 Armor, 10 Lasers, 5 Missiles, 9 Shields, 3ECM, 3AA, 17HP, 3Speed (Init 2)
The Army of the Frontiers
[Executive summary goes here]
Ravshana Marika bint Yasmin al-Lasalle
| Ravshana Marika bint Yasmin al-Lasalle | |
|---|---|
| |
| Portrait by Bellas Horn | |
| Royal Concubine | |
| Tenure | February 5322 - 28 February 5323 |
| Queen-Dowager of the Phoenix Empire Shahmam Simurghshahr | |
| Tenure | 30 October 5322 - 28 February 5323 |
| Acclamation | 30 October 5322 |
| Concubine-Dowager of the Saka | |
| Tenure | 28 February 5323 - [date] |
| Born | 5 June 5291 Sakastan, Douai-Samarkand |
| Spouse(s) | |
| Issue | Ardeshir Yares ibn Hiroshi Phoenicia-Saka Saki Aalia bint Hiroshi Phoenicia-Saka |
| House | Lasalle |
| Father | Edmund Nkrunzia Lasalle-Hawkwood |
| Mother | Yasmin Victoria bint Turandokht al-Lasalle |
| Occupation | Military Officer |
| Religion | Phoenix Church |
- Virtue: The Greatest Hussar
- Vice: The Greatest Hussar
Rank: Saravan-Colonel- Allies: Tahminah al-Lasalle, Fellow Cavalry Officers
- Enemies: Tahminah al-Lasalle, The Duke Gramont the man who broke her sister’s heart (or was it the other way around?), eloped with Spahbed-Marshall Rzvesky's daughter that one time
Foreign Policy: Any war the Phoenix decrees is as good as another.- Class Attitude: Many a great potential soldier has been held back by class.
- Economics: Church Socialism
- Religion: Keep my commandments and live, guard my teachings. Bind them on your thy fingers, write them upon the table of thine heart.
Aspiration: A glorious war!- (Expert): Cavalry Command
- (Professional): Martial Arts, Life of the Party
- (Layman): The Church, Streetwise
- (Terrible): Restraint, Easily Duped, Academics
Space Princess Personhood:
- Smarts
- IQ [3]
- Wits [5]
- Social
- Charm [5] = 4+1 (Constitution Day Bonus)
- Cunning [2]
- Strength:
- Durability [4]
- Physical Action [6]
Skills:
Court
- Horse Trading [3]
- Chummy [4]
- Bureaucracy [3] = 2+1 (Ravoshi Tragedy Bonus)
- Speech Giving [4]
Military
- Ship Command
- Helmsmen [3]
- Gunnery [3] = 2+1(Beta Test Bonus)
- Leadership [3]
- Squadron Command
- Maneuver [3]
- Formation [3]
- Command [3]
- Fleet Command
- Maneuver [2] = 0+1+1 (Battle of Volken Bonus) (Battle of the Starforge GM Aid Bonus)
- Formation [1] = 0+1 (Battle of Desolation Moon)
- Command [1] = 0+1 (Battle of Yvnes Bonus)
Demesne
Interrex of the Regency Council for Ardshir Yares ibn Hiroshi Phoenicia and Saki Aalia bint Hiroshi Phoenicia in the Transeisdzarian Commonwealth, Concubine-Dowager of the Saka, Standard Bearer of the Saka Gavan, Saravan-Marshal of the Transeisdzarian Cosmoforces.