barrayarmods: (Default)
For Barrayar mods ([personal profile] barrayarmods) wrote in [community profile] forbarrayar2016-12-19 09:43 pm

[ 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.
vorrutyer: (shaaaahhhhts)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-22 02:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Appeal to Count Vorkosigan himself...Right. Through some miracle, By suppresses a flinch. If-this-is-all-true-and-not-a-prank (that caveat is beginning to run together as one fluid phrase, now, appended onto the beginning of each and every thought) then Count Vorkosigan will not mean Aral Vorkosigan. Not, mind, that By isn't afraid of Aral Vorkosigan - on the contrary, the thought of the Great Admiral fills By with gibbering terror. But that's nothing compared to the hoary old Dendarii mountain wolf that is the Great General. Piotr Pierre Vorkosigan is the breed of beast you can only be comfortable viewing in a zoo. In the wild, it's best simply to run away.

Help me.

"When we have a bit more freedom of movement, I shall," he agrees, his voice just a little faint. He clears his throat and continues, stronger, "Do you have any idea when that might be, milady?" Perhaps so I can turn tail and flee? No...He knows, grimly, that he won't be able to do that. He has to stay and fight. He took oaths - not to this Emperor, not to this ImpSec, not to these people. But he took oaths.
truevor: (pic#10925388)

[personal profile] truevor 2017-01-23 12:27 am (UTC)(link)
A small, faint smile hits the edge of her lips before it fades into a perceptive blankness broken only by one raised brow. "I do not. The Count has other things on his mind, at present." And the outsiders are not worth taking him away from that when they do not present a threat. Or at least one not mitigated currently by their guards -- if she truly thought they were more than that, she wouldn't consent to meeting with any of them.

"Of course," she continues, with an air of nonchalance, "you would be allowed to meet with him if you had an escort. Someone who could vouch for your sincerity and eagerness to join the cause." Olivia would never think of interrupting Piotr for something so small as making sure this Vorrutyer cousin of his could join the fight, but she's not above letting the threat of it hang over him to see his response. His behavior previously does not endear him to her, or make her inclined to trust him further than she can throw him. "It wouldn't do to let that enthusiasm go to waste -- it is sorely needed here."