[ 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

[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.

[dendarii]

... What promise would that be, exactly?

[vorrutyer]

Future information. A dozen questions answered. No right of refusal.

[dendarii]

[ Miles twitches visibly at that. ]

No.

[vorrutyer]

Then the knowledge of Lady Vorkosigan is lost to you. Pity.

[dendarii]

You're full of shit as always. Twelve questions with no control over them? I may as well slit my own throat now.

[vorrutyer]

I think I'm flattered. Is my questioning so brutal? You've always seemed to hold up under them.

[dendarii]

You know damn well what you're asking. And how terrible this deal is. My brother would skin me alive.

[vorrutyer]

Ah. It is a high price. But something high-priced is being traded for something priceless. Knowledge of the elegant, spare, solemn Lady Ek...Ah, no. No, I cannot say more.

[dendarii]

[ Miles grits his teeth. Goddammit, Byerly. ]

One question. Not a dozen. It's one piece of info for another.

[vorrutyer]

But what a piece of information. Oh, and the story of how you met...

[dendarii]

-- If you tell me that it might not happen at all!

[ But he wants it so badly, dammit. ]

[vorrutyer]

Hm. So then why do you look so hungry?

[dendarii]

Because you're still dangling a steak in front of me, Byerly.

Three questions.

[vorrutyer]

Six. Fifty percent of my original asking price. Your odd little businessman clone would be proud.

[dendarii]

It's only fifty percent because you set it unreasonably high to begin with. But fine. Six questions. And if you short me on the information, you'll get shorted on answers too.

[vorrutyer]

Ekaterin Nile Vorvayne Vorsoisson Vorkosigan.

[dendarii]

[ What a beautiful name. Miles closes his eyes a moment just to picture her. Tall, dark haired, somber, gardener ... Ekaterin. ]

I've not heard of either of those family names.

[vorrutyer]

Ah, are you certain? Think back to earlier.

[dendarii]

Yes, yes, you mentioned --

[ Wait. He goes pale. ]

-- the man I supposedly murdered.