barrayarmods: (Default)
For Barrayar mods ([personal profile] barrayarmods) wrote in [community profile] forbarrayar2016-12-19 09:43 pm

[ january i log: barrayar ]

Who: Everyone
What: Arrival on Barrayar and what follows
When: January 2nd - January 17th
Where: Barrayaran guerrilla camp
Warnings: None (at the moment)


welcome to barrayar.
It's the dark of night when you come to in the foothills. Snow on the ground, chill winter wind whistling. A steep mountain range towers just ahead, its peaks illuminated by the light of two moons. Whatever you last remember, it isn't how you got here, and you feel oddly jetlagged, slightly queasy.

And you're not alone. There are nine other people close by, all looking equally lost and confused. But before any of you have a chance to figure out what's going on, the soldiers arrive.

They're dressed in weather-worn green uniforms, bearing swords and bows, and they surround you immediately, poised to attack. But they quickly realize you're not their enemy, the ones they call Cetagandans. They're just as confused as you are, but rather than hanging around to puzzle it out, they start shepherding you toward their camp in the mountains while it's still dark. There's a war on, they say, and you unlucky bastards have just been dropped right smack in the middle of it.

the guerrilla camp
It's a few hours' hike through the mountains to get to their hidden camp, set up in a clearing framed by dense, hard forestry and backed against a rock face. Daylight is finally dawning when you make it there. You and your fellow sudden arrivals are ushered to an empty tent on the far end of the camp, just big enough to fit all ten of you. You can't help but notice they've posted guards all around it. You aren't under arrest – they just don't know what else to do with you.

You are able to glean, from hearsay and what the soldiers are willing to share with you, that you are on a planet called Barrayar, and this is their home, and ten years ago they were attacked without warning by the Cetagandan Empire. They've been holed up in the mountains fighting against their invaders ever since, outgunned and outmanned, but scoring little victories where they can. They don't tell you much more than that. Some dialect of Russian seems to be one of the predominant languages of the camp, but for the most part they all speak English too, if with an accent. They're gruff and wary, and if you look a little less – or more – than human, they'll eye you with suspicion, maybe even make obscure hex signs at you that seem intended to ward off evil or disease. But they aren't hostile to you, not unless you start something with them.

the outsiders' tent
It's not in the greatest shape, but if you look around the camp, the rest aren't much better off. It's cramped, but you've at least been provided with bedrolls and heavy wool blankets to ward off the frozen chill, and if you're in need of clothing, they'll provide it, although it probably hasn't been washed in…a while. The soldiers bring you food at mealtimes -- not very good food, mostly tough meat and groats, and they keep you your own campfire, just to keep you warm. They've also hastily dug you your own latrine area at the edge of the perimeter, just behind the treeline. No private bathroom stalls in this outfit, unfortunately. The entire camp seems tense and wary, and the soldiers are alert, but they don't talk much. You could try sneaking past them, but you probably won't get far.

Well, at least you've got each other for company: the outsiders on Barrayar.
vorbratta: (a hundred and twelve)

[personal profile] vorbratta 2017-01-03 11:50 am (UTC)(link)
Sonia sees that shudder and knows that Beth knows what she meant, maybe a little too well, and she bites her lip. But she doesn't seem to have greatly offended the outsider. She shakes her head.

"Well, you're not making things hard on me. You just caught us in a...bumpy period, is all." But she probably ought not to say more than that. Count Piotr's been insistent on maintaining control of information. "Not that anyone on the planet would be prepared for something like this. But we'll be alright. There's a hill village nearby. They've been helping us with supplies."
vorbratta: (how come you wanna make off)

[personal profile] vorbratta 2017-01-03 11:51 am (UTC)(link)
"Oh?" Sonia tilts her head at him, raptly curious. "You grew up around here, then? Not up in the mountains here, I trust. You don't sound like one of the hillfolk."
vorbratta: (there is a cold moon rising)

[personal profile] vorbratta 2017-01-03 12:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Some assumption has to be made, to be fair, because she's one of a scant few of women among the Barrayarans. A straightforward answer would be easy, but it's refreshing to talk to someone who doesn't know she is for once in a while. She misses honest conversation.

"Oh, I help out around camp," Sonia answers, more or less truthfully. She gives Zarya a cheeky grin. "They tell me I'm good for morale."
littlemissfutility: (09)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-01-03 12:18 pm (UTC)(link)
"Not...exactly." There's no reason that somebody in Siberia should know the ins and outs of accents in North America, but finding herself mistaken for Canadian is still kind of funny. Grinning, she answers, "I'm from Georgia--in the United States."

Where in Siberia-- is on the tip of her tongue, for politeness' sake, but it would all be the same to her, and they don't exactly have a map to help them visualize just how far from each other they were. "Were you guys okay out there? Seems like you'd run out of supplies fast after the turn."
dendarii: (honest help)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-03 12:47 pm (UTC)(link)
No. No he certainly does not. That's going to be a problem, probably ... He tries to explain it away.

"Mother wasn't. Da was. She was from the city originally." Here he doesn't need to fake fondness; his very real homesickness will do that well enough for him now. "They were both desperately fond of me."
dendarii: (solpadeine114)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-03 12:51 pm (UTC)(link)
He did say or. And - well, that's enough to keep him busy anyway. The other outsiders he can screw up with if need be; she, however, must be convinced of his identity in full. Because surely she is a Vor with some power around here, and if he fails he is dead. No problem. Perfectly easy to do...

In response to her implied question, he shrugs lightly. "I was pulled here the same as the others," he says. "I was out in the greater Nexus before awakening here." That much is true enough, even if the when is really more important than the where ... "But I am a Barrayaran native. I've just not been home for years."
dendarii: (cunning plan)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-03 12:53 pm (UTC)(link)
You're the one who wants to be my commanding officer.

[ But - well, they've probably attracted enough attention with Milies' little attempted fistfight. He reluctantly swallows down what he was going to say next. ]

What else do you propose we do?
dendarii: (half pint of trouble)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-03 12:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He probably should have expected that response. Lakshmi reaching for her weapon is unmistakeable; he's done much the same in similar situations. It makes him like her even more, though, even though the gesture was essentially aimed at him. He laughs a little as he turns to flee - and laughs again as her own snowball smacks him square in the back of the head. ]

A worthy blow, my lady.
traitorous: (RAMPANCY.)

agent maine

[personal profile] traitorous 2017-01-03 01:44 pm (UTC)(link)
WELCOME TO BARRAYAR / ARRIVAL.
When Maine arrives to Barrayar, it's on his knees and with a sword to his throat.

Typical.

He doesn't remember blindly swinging punches at the soldiers as they marched up the mountain foothills to surround him and the nine strangers. He doesn't remember much of anything except the searing pain in his temples and spine, and the throbbing ache centered at the back of his head near his neural implant, where Sigma should be but isn't. One of the soldiers barks at him to hold still as they check him for weapons, and Maine — disoriented, nauseous, and seeing two of everything, his fingers and eyelids twitching uncontrollably — complies with their request.

The man holding the sword to his throat reaches for the chain around his neck to look at his tags. Maine reels back on his calves, snarling, already half-way to his feet before the soldier presses forward, digging the sword's metal tip into his jugular. Fuck. Fine. He buckles into the mud and snow, head lolling toward his shoulders as he stares up at the black sky and the spattering of stars and unfamiliar constellations.

"He's unarmed," one of the soldiers says. Not so typical. The sword at his throat disappears.

It's not until the soldiers move on to secure the rest of the area that Maine finally realizes that they — in their simple green garb, all bearing crude weapons — are definitely not Insurrectionists, and that the nine strangers he'd been found with are absolutely not from Freelancer. There's a girl, blonde and small, and another girl, blue and also small, and a very, unusually small man, and for a brief second he thinks he spots a familiar head of red hair but then his vision doubles again and he drops his forehead against the frozen ground to stave off the pain, grunting.

No Innies, no Freelancers. No Covenant. No UNSC, either, probably, not if he can't recognize a single fucking constellation out of the countless hundreds he's memorized. He doesn't even know what goddamned galaxy he's in. Maybe he's in a region of space the Covenant never discovered. Maybe there's no war. Maybe he's dreaming. Maybe his head hurts like someone's taken a sledgehammer to his skull and maybe his maybes aren't getting him anywhere.

He turns his cheek against the ground and breathes in sharply through his nose. The snow feels nice on his burning face, at least.

Someone is staring at him. Maine doesn't lift his head; he just stares back, unblinking, his slack expression pinching into a surly scowl. What?
THE OUTSIDERS' TENT.
There's a war.

Of course there's a fucking war.

Though the revelation is both unsurprising and infuriating, Maine plays nice as he's led through the mountains into the Barrayans' camp. He takes up too much space to go unnoticed, over a head taller than nearly everyone around him, but he keeps his hands (and fists) to himself. Some of the soldiers gesticulate strangely as he passes. Maine watches blandly, and then gives them a middle finger when he's quasi-sure no one is watching.

The tent is far too cramped for all ten of them to fit inside comfortably. Maine takes his bowl of groats and makes a space for himself away from the fire, despite his lack of warm clothes. Shitty luck arriving to a foreign planet without his armor. He's stuck in his civvies 'til they give him something else. Even shittier luck getting stranded without Sigma and an easy way to communicate.

Can't be helped, he supposes. He'll have to figure something else out.

Should anyone seat themselves near him, Maine will put down his bowl of super delicious groats and grab a broken branch to carve five letters into the dirt.

HELLO

He considers his handwriting for a moment (surprisingly legible and neat, with strong solid lines and curves), and then carefully dots his greeting with a period.

HELLO.

Right, that'll do.
WHATEVER ELSE.
Feel free to find him wandering around the camp, too! He is a massive 7' man and extremely hard to miss. I'll match prose or brackets, present or past tense.
Edited 2017-01-03 13:51 (UTC)
vorrutyer: (haughty (and smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-03 03:02 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, that went over about as well as Jacksonian Communism. Usually, a bit of mock-courtliness is tolerated with good humor, even from a disinherited dissolute town clown. Rebuffed, yes, but with amusement. Not with...irritation. He actually blinks his surprise a moment, startled out of his miserable confusion.

Well, at least she's engaged with his metaphor a bit. He can work with that. "Ah," he says, stroking his beard, looking her over. What Vor ladies would be swanning about with these grunting cavemen? Any number of them, he fancies, seeking refuge from the Cetagandans and their alien aggression. So which District - and which desert - would she be referencing? Something about her accent hits his ear just a little oddly...Of course. It clicks. She just has a hint of flat Betan intonation.

"A planet-wide desert, I fancy," he guesses. Though what good, Betan-educated girl would be so put off by a bit of flirting? Any Betan girl who doesn't like the look of you, probably. They're not exactly famous for putting up with the sorts of things Vor women put up with. Something he's always rather respected about the breed. "I'd think, given the circumstances, you don't quite treasure the experience of being here in snow rather than there in dust."
vorrutyer: (really fucking stressed)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-03 03:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[ By drags the heel of his hand along his cheekbone, trying to wipe away some bit of grime there. Hah. Of all the things he expected, Miles Vorkosigan getting cooperative wasn't one of them. It's almost delightful in its unexpected novelty. Of course, the problem with being in charge, such as it is, is that you have to be the one to make decisions. And he has no idea what to do.

Shit. Is it too late to pitch himself headfirst off one of those cliffs he'd seen earlier? Beautiful cliffs, those. No, his fear of heights would keep him getting too close to the edge, he knows. What an idiotic thing a phobia is. I want to use this to die, but I can't, because inside my brain it triggers my fear of dying. Ah, well; life it is. ]


Convince me of your reasons that we shouldn't tell the General about our situation. Aside from the fact that you're scared of the General.
dendarii: (solpadeine107)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-03 03:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[ And Miles is here to watch him for mistakes every step of the way. And be a general thorn in his side. As Miles tends to do.

Speaking of which, Byerly gets a slight eyeroll at that. ]


If you knew him like I do, you'd be nervous too. This is a desperate time, Byerly. You really think you can walk in there and just tell him you're from the future?
vorrutyer: (annoyed and/or stressed)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-03 03:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Byerly's lips press together in annoyance. He is annoyed to have to say this to Vorkosigan. Because it sounds stupid and idealistic, and if anyone has not fucking earned a moment of hearing him when being stupid and idealistic, it's a damned Vorkosigan. But. Well. ]

It's the truth. If you're committed to the truth, you can't be committed by halves. [ Even when it's unpleasant. Even when it'll get you hanged by the balls from supports of the Great General's war tent. He continues on, with statements a little less close to his heart: ] You went to the military academy. I don't know what you honorable boys got up to there, but I bet part of it was battle history. You know how half this war went. Don't you think that could be useful?
dendarii: (120)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-03 03:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Miles continues on stubbornly. He is convinced that his way is the right way, even if it does involve lying a little bit. Byerly doesn't have quite the same personal stake in it that Miles does, after all. ]

I do know how this war went. Exceptionally, personally well. [ He levels a stare at Byerly. ] Tell me, Byerly, at what point did interlopers from different worlds and times suddenly appear in the camp? What year was that?
vorrutyer: (explaining everything (badly))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-03 03:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, Illyan, you know my Vor honor prevents me from helping proles cheat on their exams.

[ He can't even give that the saccharine sweetness he would under normal circumstances. ]

I'll grant I surely haven't watched the number of holodramas you doubtless have - I peg you for a child raised on a steady diet of the falsehoods of Vorthalia the Bold, Hero of Barrayar - but my impression of time travel is that the smallest change can cause ripple effects. If time were going to be altered by our being here, then the both of us already should have winked out of existence. Meaning that either it's not going to be altered because the flow of time is inevitable, or we're in a parallel timeline anyway.

[ Byerly...might slightly be overstating the number of holodramas he didn't watch. He...All right, he had a fondness for them, back in his younger days. ]
littlemissfutility: (49)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-01-03 03:41 pm (UTC)(link)
"I didn't know it got that cold in England." The only thing she knows about the weather there is that it's supposed to be rainy.

After she says it, it occurs to her that the accent doesn't necessarily mean he's actually from England--not when the people keeping them in this tent sound Russian but aren't--but he can direct her if she's wrong.

She should probably start getting ready for bed, too; after their walk through the strange, too-red forest, she's bone tired. She starts unrolling her own mat, placing it neither too near Arthur's nor too far away. There's safety in numbers, even if you aren't entirely sure which are the numbers you can trust. His blanket, she leaves alone. Maybe when he falls asleep, she can spread it back over him.

"We should have a watch," she adds, after a few quiet moments. "Just in case."
dendarii: (TW_S1_E13_0316)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-03 03:44 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Overcompensating much, Byerly? Miles folds his arms over his chest. ]

That's still not my point. We have no idea what changes have already happened and how that affects the new history. Our information may not be good any more, for starters. And given how extremely difficult this was to win in the first place - you really think changing the balance is going to help Barrayar?
littlemissfutility: (Default)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-01-03 03:45 pm (UTC)(link)
She rolls her eyes, but if he's going to insist, it'd be stupid to leave a perfectly good coat lying in the snow behind them. Slipping one arm into it, and then the other (good thing the sleeves are wide enough to accommodate her cast),she mutters, "Fine. Enjoy your stick."

In the muted crunch and whisper of the snow--deep enough that it's both underfoot and all around--she tries to decide whether it's worth asking what he means. Curiosity gets the better of her, along with the knowledge that she's hurting for information about this freezing place. "What's Vor?"
Edited 2017-01-03 15:50 (UTC)
vorrutyer: (haughty (and smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-03 03:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Byerly purses his lips. Vorkosigan is...irritatingly Vorish, in By's experience - one of those tiresome bores who acts like their names mean anything aside from inbreeding and nastiness and unearned superiority. The outcome, surely, of being of a largely-dead clan. He doesn't realize quite how vile their class truly is. This, of course, has the advantage of potentially making him easy to manipulate. And so he goes right for the heart: ]

I'll admit, I'm surprised. And here you have the possibility of saving the whole population of Vorkosigan Vashnoi. You're really not interested in that?
dendarii: (solpadeine30)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-03 03:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Miles clenches his teeth at that. Of course he wants to save Vorkosigan Vashnoi. And the rest of his dead family, for that matter. He could do it, he's sure of it ...

But he shakes his head sharply. ]


We can't, Byerly. God only knows how that will affect things. If not the war itself, then the politics afterwards.
vorrutyer: (shaaaahhhhts)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-03 03:57 pm (UTC)(link)
That's really your excuse? We can't take risks because we might screw it up?

[ By regards Miles with a lifted eyebrow. Now, he never got this whole story. Rumors of Vorkosigan getting sacked in disgrace had filtered down to him through some of his contacts - not, of course, through the inimitable Lady Alys, but through some of the others. Eyes ripped off had been the rumor. And then Illyan's illness, and then the sudden Auditorship, and the whole story had been lost. But this...This is a different Vorkosigan than the one who'd confronted him those months ago. ]

Why did Illyan fire you?
dendarii: (solpadeine109)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-03 04:01 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Miles goes utterly still at that, a dangerous light in his eyes. His eyes half-lid as he regards his cousin venomously. ]

You're from my future. Why don't you tell me?
vorrutyer: (world-weary (and smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-03 04:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[ By meets Miles' eyes directly, not flinching from that dangerous look in the least. Grand Vorrutyer family tradition, that, stoking the fires of a Vorkosigan's rage. ]

Oh, it was all hushed up. Besides which, rumors of it wouldn't ever have reached the lowly ears of a humble town clown. How are we to keep track of the comings and goings of you service boys? There are so many of you.
vorrutyer: (smug aka default)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-03 04:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[ What a charming change from what he's used to. Normally, people want their names to be known, like a name is equal to status, which in turn is equal to personal qualities. His lips quirk up, rather charmed by her reticence - and charmed by her faintly challenging air. He does like a woman who poses a challenge. ]

A bargain, then, is it?

[ And he answers, simply: ]

By.
vorrutyer: (actually maybe unsmug)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-03 04:18 pm (UTC)(link)
He catches that from the corner of his eye; a little bit of his tension relaxes. Of course, without the distraction of scheming and manipulations to keep his mind occupied, he becomes abruptly more aware of how damned cold it is up here. He suppresses a shiver. What a sad lot - cold, but unable to even show any sign of it lest she use that as an excuse to hand his coat back. There is no hell worse, in his opinion, than to have the joy of unhappiness without the joy of being able to complain about it.

How...very strange, though. She's obviously galactic - that's clear from her accent, her clothing, and her appearance - but to be on Barrayar with no knowledge of the planet at all...? Well. "Once upon a time," he intones windily, "the Emperor of Barrayar was pleased by the service of one of my noble ancestors. Vlad Rutyer, if I don't misremember. And so he cursed that poor sod with the title of nobility - the Vor title - and some pretty lands out on the Western coast.

"The Vor are the ruling class of this planet. You can trust most of them to be superior, haughty, and care not a whit for the lives of proles and galactics such as yourself. But if you can shame them into remembering that they're expected to be chivalrous and honorable, sometimes you can get them to behave."

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