For Barrayar mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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forbarrayar2016-12-19 09:43 pm
barrayarmods) wrote in forbarrayar2016-12-19 09:43 pm
Entry tags:
- !event,
- #barrayaran camp,
- *olivia vorkosigan,
- *sonia vorbarra,
- adrien arbuckal | prorenataa,
- agent carolina | startpoint,
- agent maine | traitorous,
- arthur pendragon | changeth,
- beth greene | littlemissfutility,
- byerly vorrutyer | vorrutyer,
- elsa mars | starsneverpay,
- lakshmi bai | shri,
- miles vorkosigan | dendarii,
- zarya | sibearian
[ 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.
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.
no subject
The Innies didn't fill his ears with bullets, just his throat. Small mercies, he guesses. And he can talk a little, but talking in general is painful and usually not worth the effort, especially when he doesn't have much to say.
Besides, talking with someone doesn't yield half as much information as watching them, and Miles in particular has been interesting to watch. He's affable, friendly, seems to have no problem conversing with the soldiers in whatever language they speak most fluently. If he hadn't arrived with the nine of them, Maine might assume that he was from here, wherever the hell here may be.
Maybe he is. Only one way to find out.
He wipes his foot in the dirt to clear his writing and quickly scratches out another message.
DO YOU KNOW WHERE WE ARE?
IN SPACE
A planet called Barrayar really doesn't tell him much. Maine wants to know the system and the galaxy.
no subject
Which - he isn't really trying to hide anyway. It's just the when that he needs to keep close to his chest. And this kind of information is basic enough that he hardly feels a need to protect it.
"The Barrayar system," Miles says rather unhelpfully. He figures Maine meant more than that, but ... "I really couldn't tell you anything more than that. The Nexus only cares about the number of wormhole jumps between each system, not where we're located physically." For all he knows, the wormholes take them to different galaxies - universes? - entirely.
no subject
I CAME FROM THE MILKY WAY
MY HOME IS A DESERT PLANET IN KEPLER-62
Here, next to message, he draws a rough diagram of the Milky Way: a messy scribble for the galactic core and four winding semi-circles for its arms. He marks one of the arms with an x and a question mark and looks up at Miles when he's finished. After a second, he looks down uncertainly and quickly writes FAMILIAR? beneath his diagram.
It's frustrating, not knowing whether he's being clear or making sense. He'll need to figure out a more effective way to communicate in the future so he's not writing out complete paragraphs in the fucking dirt.
no subject
"Oh, yes. Earth and Beta Colony are both in the Milky Way for sure." Earth being ... well, Earth, and Beta Colony being one of the few planets that had been traversed without wormholes back in the day. "It's the rest we're not sure about."
no subject
His head hurts too much to try and make sense of the wheres, whens, and hows of this absolutely ridiculous situation, though he supposes Miles' answer isn't all that surprising. Why else would they be anywhere other than the Milky Way, when not even the Covenant is capable of intergalactic travel?
MAINE is what he finally writes in the dirt, a few seconds later. He rests an elbow on his knee and hooks his chin into his palm, turning his head slightly to fix Miles with an expectant stare.
no subject
"Miles Illyan," he says at last. "It's nice to meet you."
no subject
THE NEXUS? BETA COLONY?
— only to immediately write more questions in its place. Sorry, Miles. Hope you're feeling chatty. Beta Colony could possibly be a reference to the Beta Eridani or Beta Hydri systems. Both systems are within 100 light years of Earth, and so far Earth seems to be the only common denominator between him and Miles.
The Nexus, though. He's never heard that term — or place? tech, maybe? — before.
no subject
"Beta as in second. Alpha Colony was lost." He doesn't know the specific star system off the top of his head, only that it was one of the closest planets available for supporting life. As for the Nexus ... He begins to sketch out a crude version of this map, starting with Earth, tracing a route to Barrayar, and then adding systems as he can.
"Each of these lines is a wormhole route," he says, tapping each one in turn. "That's how you get between stars quickly."
no subject
Maine has to work very hard to keep his expression neutral and not look at Miles as if he's speaking and drawing in another language. He might as well be, really. What he's saying makes sense in theory, but the diagram he sketches is hardly recognizable as the galaxy that Maine is familiar with.
There's Tau Ceti, and Earth is part of Sol. At least they have two systems in common.
YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT SLIPSPACE. INTERSTELLAR TRAVEL.
no subject
"Just so," he says, rocking back on his heels once he's done. "Which is why distance is not the primary form of measurement for us. It's all about how many wormhole jumps it takes to get somewhere."
no subject
Travel via slipspace worked somewhat similarly for the UNSC and all man-made ships. While the invention of the Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine was revolutionary for mankind, the technology was far from perfect, and their ships almost never exited a jump in the correct location. Time spent in slipspace mattered more than distance traveled because their measurement of distance often wasn't reliable.
He again rests his chin on his hand and draws a lazy sideways smiley face in the dirt by his feet, followed by a TY that he immediately crosses out and replaces with a full THANKS. Just in case.
WHERE WERE YOU BEFORE?
His writing is getting sloppier as time goes on, possibly due to his hand cramping and also a little because it's fucking tedious, carefully carving each letter into the dirt. Maine corrects a couple of the sloppier lines with a rumbling sigh.
no subject
"In space," he says instead. "With my mercenary fleet. They pulled me right out of my ship somehow."