[ 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

[vorrutyer]

Ah, would it? Have I told you a lie yet?

[dendarii]

I at least have context for the rest.

[vorrutyer]

Very well. Then I'll not trouble you with what I know. I admire your restraint - I thought you'd be quite curious.

[dendarii]

I'm curious for the truth. Not whatever nonsense you're going to spit out.

[vorrutyer]

[ He spreads his hands. ]

Again, I'm wounded. Do you think I would play when it comes to matters of the heart?

[dendarii]

[ Bluntly: ]

Yes.

[vorrutyer]

Ah. So hurtful. Even though it would also be a matter of family? You know how highly I regard family.

[dendarii]

... Who the hell would I marry from your family? Lady Vorrutyer vastly prefer Ivan.

[vorrutyer]

[ By waves his hand dismissively. ]

Family writ large. Family in the sense that any Lady Vorkosigan would become a sort of cousin to me.

[dendarii]

Just stop, Byerly. I'm not going to believe you.

[vorrutyer]

As you wish.

[ A bow; he touches his forelock. ]

Not a word shall I breathe of her tall stillness, her impeccable calm. Not a syllable on the subject of her long fall of dark, dark hair. Not a single sound regarding her astonishing sense of aesthetics. Her gardens. Her elegance. Her subdued wit. Not a single word on the subject, my oath.

[dendarii]

[ God fucking dammit. Now he's absolutely mad with curiosity just picturing her. And how would Byerly know exactly the sort of woman Miles would like? Admittedly he hadn't been sublle in his previous relationships, but - what would Byerly know of them?

Between clenched teeth: ]

... What do you want to know, Vorrutyer.

[vorrutyer]

[ Hah. ]

Ah, many things. But now I've given an oath. I can't trade this information for the world.

[dendarii]

You've already said too much and you know it, you bastard.

[vorrutyer]

Oh, I've said just the amount I wanted to.

[dendarii]

I bet you have. Just give me a name, dammit.

[vorrutyer]

But my word. My word as Vor.

[dendarii]

You promised it to me. I release you from the oath.

[vorrutyer]

Ah, but I promised it to myself, too...What could induce myself to release me from that oath, as well? What could move my soul that I would break it?

[dendarii]

I'm not going to play these games with you. Tell me what you want or shove off.

[vorrutyer]

[ An as-you-wish bow. ]

I don't know yet.

[dendarii]

Then stop messing with me.

[vorrutyer]

Ah, so you're willing to wait for the answer?

[dendarii]

I'm certainly done fighting with you over it.

[vorrutyer]

Ah. You know, I might trade it for a promise.