[ january i log: barrayar ]

[barrayarmods]

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.

Comments

[truevor]

Ah. There had been whispers based in Barrayaran superstition amongst the guards, although Olivia had yet to come across their source before this moment. Although she hadn't expected the source to sound Barrayaran. How had he lived, looking like that? Someone cared about his survival, enough to damn him to an unforgiving life -- Olivia can't see any other reason for his existence. But Barrayaran sensibilities have their time and place; Olivia considers this to be one of the times she can cast it aside in favor of her Betan upbringing. Others, she knows, won't be as kind.

As for his questions, well. "What we intend to do to you? At present, nothing beyond what you see here." Her lips turn down, in thought rather than displeasure. "The General Count has other, more pressing concerns at the moment now that you have all been... contained, for the lack of a better word. If you are, in fact, one of the outsiders." That accent makes her doubt it -- the first she's met to make her think so.

Her name, Olivia thinks, can wait. After all, he said or.

[dendarii]

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."

[truevor]

That gets an almost rueful snort from Olivia, as quiet as it is. "Yes," is her measured response, eyes flicking up at the sky for an instant, "I can imagine how that would be difficult even if you did wish to return." For someone like him, Olivia thinks, would much prefer to be as far away from Barrayar as possible. Another cruelty of war to bring him back down to it, however it happened.

"Once we are certain you pose no immediate threat, we will consider other courses of action." What ones remained to be seen. that would be a problem for Piotr to tackle. They could certainly use the manpower if they enlisted them, but it wasn't just the ability to fight that made someone a good soldier.

[dendarii]

He feels a bit guilty slamming his homeworld like this, but - well, it adds to his story. As does the faint note of homesickness in his voice, he hopes. "Just so. Difficult to return for many reasons." And he'll leave it at that for now. Mostly because there are more interesting topics to discuss.

Other courses of action, eh? He rubs at his chin lightly, and suppresses the urge to pace. "Assisting with the resistance?" he asks. Obviously he's no soldier, but he has other talents. "Barrayar may not like my sort much, but it is my home." A beat. "And I've no love for Cetaganda."

[truevor]

"That is one option," Olivia concedes, although her gaze turns sharper and more piercing when he volunteers himself. "But I am not the one with the final authority to make that call." That belongs to Piotr, but if this man is serious about his desire, the obvious might only be an impediment and not something to disqualify him.

Still -- "Those two things will perhaps be more useful than you think." It is all that they have left, after all. That and the soul-consuming desire to win. "If you are serious in your offer, I can perhaps assist you in making your attentions clear to the right individual. Although I cannot promise how quick an answer will come, if it comes at all."

He will have to earn their trust, Piotr's trust. And who's to say if that will happen at all? But better to give him the option if he's willing than to lose something -- someone -- who wants to try, who can help.

[dendarii]

Piotr. It all ultimately comes down to him, doesn't it. And if Miles fails with him - if his story doesn't fly with him - then Miles is almost certainly dead. Outcast at best. Executed perhaps. He has no illusions about the old man's fondness for people like Miles, especially in a time period like this. He must impress the old man if he hopes to keep any permanent position here.

"Who are you then," he asks after a moment, "to have General Vorkosigan's ear?" He has a guess, but he's still not 100% sure. Vor lady, who might assist him with talking to Piotr ... Surely there's only one candidate.

[truevor]

"Princess and Countess Vorkosigan," is her measured response, putting the title with the most weight first, in true Barrayaran fashion. He had asked before, and as a Barrayaran -- however removed from his planet he may be -- she sees little reason to keep it secret.

A gesture at him, and she continues. "And if I am to vouch for you, I will need to know a name."

[dendarii]

Miles' eyes go wide. He'd suspected, but to have it confirmed ... He just stares back at her for a moment as he tries to memorize her face. Piotr's wife. His grandmother. He's never met her. Never had the opportunity to, given she'd died so long before he was born...

Breathe, Miles. You're staring.

"Princess," he says, with a slight bow. "Well met. My name is Miles Illyan."

[truevor]

The staring threatens to stretch into some form of discomfort before Miles speaks, one of her brows creeping upwards. The lines in her face smooth out with the bow, her return dip of her head shallow but respectful all the same.

"Well met, Miles Illyan. I do not know what will come of it, but I will do what I can to see that the General Count will at least hear you out." It isn't much, she knows that, but Piotr can be... difficult, at times. It is at least better than a refusal to see him outright. Illyan will have to prove himself from there.

[dendarii]

One audience to convince his grandfather he's not a burden. One audience to prove himself worthy ... It won't be enough. But he'll try his damndest anyway.

He bows rather low in response.

"Thank you, my lady," he murmurs. "It is all I can ask for."