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
He listened to Miles reel off what sounded like the same question in a variety of languages and for a brief moment he hoped that maybe that was the issue. No such luck, the guard remained unmoved.
"More like he has his orders and isn't going to act beyond them," Adrien remarked. He wasn't aggressive at the guard, after all orders were orders, but he also wasn't impressed.
"Most conscription services like to do a physical examination of their new recruits," he said with a shake of his head. He took some of the meat and water, then nodded his head towards Miles. "Give him the remain of my rations."
no subject
"Most likely," agrees Miles. And he knows his grandfather is likely quite strict on this particular topic. "Still a bit irritating." As is the offer of food. He looks up at Adrien with a bit of a withering look. "Keep it for yourself. I'd much rather know why you were seeking medical treatment to begin with."
no subject
"I'm not seeking treatment. I'm a doctor." A statement he'd historically made through tightly gritted teeth, recently however, he'd reached a point where he could state the fact with little more than flat matter of factness.
"Which is why, in my medical opinion, those calories will do you more good than they'll do me. Also, would you deny that until we have a grasp of just how much shit we're in, it's only sound logic to ration what supplies they seem to have, to the best advantage of everybody here?"
no subject
"Rationing, yes," he says. In that this man has a point. "But I assure you that I've no need for any extra. Perhaps even a bit less." Another gesture down at ... well, all of him.
no subject
He turned back to the guard.
"Cycle it back into the coffers," he said. Whether the food went to Miles or back to the store room, it didn't matter to him. He wasn't taking what he didn't need; not until he had a better understanding of what was going on.
Making to move away from the guard, and probably plot his next course of action, Adrien glanced at Miles, as directed and shook his head.
"Size isn't a reliable indicator of nutritional need. Especially when the weather is cold like this. Most people underestimate how many calories they need to burn and the need to remain well hydrated." He followed up that last statement with a healthy sip from his water, before asking.
"Have you had any luck on any of the other guards, with one of those various languages you threw out there?"
no subject
"Well I don't usually eat much," he says by way of counterargument. "And I'm not ill." And he's hungover, so too much food does not sound good right now. Water, though ... he reluctantly takes a swallow from his own supply. "I've gotten a few more scraps of information in other languages, but not as much as one might hope."
no subject
Adrien gave the edge of the tent one more wistful look.
"Another reason to get to the medical tent," he said in a quiet tone. Alright, no use wishing for what wasn't happening. He needed to sit down and come up with Plans G through P.
"Any of that information you're willing to share?"
no subject
Actually he'd overheard no such thing, but after seeing his grandmother and great-aunt here, there's really nowhere else they could possibly be. His grandfaher must certainly be here as well.
no subject
Adrien paused in his quiet attempt at a retreat and let that bit of news sink in. It was definitely plausible when matched up against what he'd been able to see of the camp and the attitudes of the guards. Besides, he had no reason to expect this man to be lying; at least not at this point.
"So we've literally just been conscripted? Or are they just going to be nice to us until no one pays the ransom and then we're dead?"
no subject
Mostly because he won't be born for another sixty or seventy years.
no subject
Up until this point, Adrien hadn't thought through what his absence meant. Inwardly he felt a jolt of pure panic but he was quick to swallow it back before it could show on his face. It was a thought he'd have to put some consideration into, but he'd do so when he was alone.
For the moment, he looked back at Miles.
"Drafted? Into a war that we don't have any affiliation in? Why would someone do something like that?"
no subject
"I'm sorry," he says, a bit more quietly. "They're desperate. Fighting for the very life of their homeworld in the face of invasion. The Cetagandans will do horrible things to this place if they win the war."
no subject
He might have remarked upon it, except the way Miles spoke caught the doctor's attention and his focus sharpened a little as he studied the man.
"What do you have to be sorry for?" He asked, genuinely curious. The man was as much a sudden captive here as the rest of them ... right? But it wasn't just that. The tenses he used, the way he spoke of these Cetagandans.
Adrien was used to having to listen between the lines, and Miles' words suggested paragraphs of what wasn't being said.
no subject
"Because I'm from here originally," he says. "Barrayar is my home. However long I've been away from it." And he truly looks homesick for a moment here, his bright gray eyes half-lidding. No matter what else happens to him, Barrayar is always home.
no subject
"I'm sorry, but ... what?"
Even as he asked the question, he glanced around at the tent and then motioned Miles to follow him back towards the quiet corner he'd staked out as his own space. Not a great deal of privacy but a smidge more.
"What the fuck are you talking about and if this is your home, then aren't you in the wrong area?"
Meaning the outsider tent.
no subject
"Because I was pulled here same as you," he says. That much is the absolute truth. "But I was halfway across Nexus when it did. I don't know how they managed it."
no subject
Looking around at the tent, down at his food and then back towards Miles, the doctor did arch an eyebrow.
"I don't see anything near or around me that suggests they have the technology level required to pull people across inter dimensional travel. At least, not deliberately. Would that fit with your understanding of this place?"
no subject
"Not in the slightest," he says. "We barely had space travel when I left. I had to smuggle myself off the planet." A pause. "If anyone has the tech, it's Cetaganda."
no subject
"Misfire?"
Meaning the Cetagandas were responsible for their trip through space and time, only they ended up planet side instead of ... where they were supposed to be?
no subject
All horrifying possibilities. "It's entirely possible," he says out loud. "Tech this new would surely have bugs."
no subject
Still it was a working theory, though it seemed to have little bearing on their immediate situation.
"Alright, let's go on the assumption that I believe this is your dimension and you're not some sort of plant," sorry Miles, he's just a naturally suspicious man. "What is this war about? I know you said the Cetagandas were attempting to take over this planet and if they did, they would destroy the way of life for these people. What does that mean?"
no subject
"I mean that they've done it to other planets before," he says with a wince. Which is to actually say that he knows what Cetaganda actually did in pursuit of conquering this planet. "This will be the ninth planet in their empire if they succeed. And they'll absorb all our culture into theirs. Nuke major population centers. Or bioengineer plagues depending on exactly how many of us they want to leave alive."
no subject
It was an interesting philosophical debate and one he might indulge himself with at a later time.
"Why?" He asked and it was a curiosity rather than a challenge. "I mean, why are they going to this effort to absorb these planets?"
no subject
"Hegemony," he says after a moment's thought. "And genetic variety. They're perpetually looking for ways to advance their culture and the progress of what they consider to be humanity." Which doesn't quite include people like Miles.
no subject
"What happened to their own genetic diversity?" Was the next question that came along. As bad as things had gotten on his version of Earth, humanity had always been amazing diverse. That had been about the only upside to the whole situation.
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