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Rolled 87, 100, 72 = 259 (3d100)
The night is dark and cold and you're fast asleep in your bed in your private room in the officers barracks when you are suddenly awoken by several rapid fire knocks bordering on slamming against your front door. The door is opened your service revolver clutched in one hand a bad habit from beville.
The man who seems to be trying to knock your door down is one of the junior captains of your battalion he stands there panting holding a single pad of paper with morse code jotted down with the normal text for it written underneath “f-from the capital s-sir” The words are ones you have been dreading since your meeting with the Princess in the capital almost four months ago.
<span class="mu-s">The King is Dead, Long live Queen Meredith
You have gathered what you can now, anything you can get will be either captured on the field or bought from foreign groups with cold hard cash or gold. The war has truly begun
>Enact your plan to take the fort
>try to get the colonel to surrender the fort
>write in
(dont mind the rolls thats not your problem currently)</span>
