test drive meme

[barrayarmods]

Playlists by tsarcasm:
Barrayar ⚔ Cetaganda ⚔ The Invasion

Have you read the FAQ?

The Village ⚔ The Barrayaran Camp ⚔ The Cetagandan Base ⚔ The Fight

You've been on Barrayar for a while now, and you're finally starting to adjust. Or maybe you're not. Maybe this is all still too much for you – the attacks, the constant raids, living in the middle of a war zone by no choice of your own. But if you want to live long enough to make it back home one day, you might as well do what you can to help the war effort. Besides, where else are you going to go?

The fierce Barrayaran winter rages even to the southern end of the continent, and it's been none too kind to Vorkosigan's District. Temperatures at sea level are well below freezing, and up in the mountains, it's even colder. Several inches of snow already blanket most of the mountains all the way down to the Cetagandan base, and the storm that's just started up is only bringing more down. Visibility is low in the flurries, wind swirling snow everywhere, and God help you if you get lost on your own out in the storm. Nights are cold, these days.

A recent attack on the Cetagandan base has left half their facilities damaged and in disarray. Raid parties snuck in by night, planting bombs in previously scouted locations for maximum effect. Damage to the base's water treatment plant and organic grow labs have considerably impacted the Cetagandans' food and water supply, and in the chaos caused by the explosions, the Barrayaran guerrillas raided their medbay and made off with a considerable bounty of medical supplies. One man's bane is another man's boon, and while the Cetagandans have reserve supplies to sustain them for now, some of the damage is extensive and the repairs will take time. But in the meantime, the Barrayarans have scored a precious victory as well as equally precious resources.



the village
The Riverfall villagers are used to the harsh winters of the Dendarii mountains, and though they don't have much themselves, they are happy to offer what they can in terms of cold-weather clothing and extra blankets to those allied with the guerrillas. Despite the cold, the hill children are going wild in the snow, and they may try to lure you into their play by sneakily pelting you with snowballs.

Cetagandan allies, however, may not be met so warmly, and at the first sight of ghem soldiers, any children out playing in the snow will be immediately ushered into their homes. Unaccompanied outsiders from the Cetagandan base might have an easier time talking to the hillfolk, but any attempt at digging information about the guerrillas out of them will get you stonewalled fast. A sneaky hill child or two may steal away from their home to approach one of the "bad guy" outsiders to sate their curiosity.



the barrayaran camp
Morale is higher than it has been in a while after their recent victory, and the guerrillas are in high spirits. And do they ever love their spirits – as night falls, most of the Barrayarans gathered around the campfires are enjoying the deceptively named, dangerously alcoholic moonshine they call maple mead. It might start out sweet, but it burns all the way down, and a few glasses of that stuff will tank even the heaviest Barrayaran soldier.

But the storm rages on despite their celebration, and preparations must be made. Clearing as much snow off the tents as possible will help ensure that no tents collapse overnight, the horses need to be tended to, and the officers are always running training drills. Food is in real supply now, but the guerrillas need help foraging and hunting nonetheless. And when night falls, you'll have to find a way to keep yourself warm – it's a good thing there are a cozy ten of you to a tent.



the cetagandan base
The Cetagandans outnumber their guerrilla enemies almost seventy-to-one, so their base has not been completely devastated, but it hardly looks to be the work of a few raiding parties. Nothing is beyond repair, but the water treatment plant has been taken offline, which means that all water is now locally sourced and must be treated by hand with purification tablets. No one in the base will starve, but fresh food is mostly unavailable until they get the grow labs back online, which means that meals are mostly comprised of ration bars and MREs. Morale isn't exactly at an all-time low, but none of the ghem officers seem to be in a good mood.

They won't hesitate to put you to work, either. They need all the engineers and laborers they can get for the grow labs and the treatment plant, and the medbay's inventory needs to be thoroughly audited before they can send a request for more supplies. But if you need a break, it's not too hard to slip away for a little quiet downtime. Some of the lower-ranked ghem ladies might let you participate in some more artistic activities, or maybe some of the enlisted soldiers who are a little more used to you by now might invite you into one of their Cetagandan games of strategy. Or, since the treatment plant only affected potable water, you could appreciate your comfortable surroundings and take a nice hot soak in the bathroom while everyone else is working.


the fight
PVP
You're in the midst of a skirmish with the other side -- maybe you signed up for the battle, maybe you just got caught up in the fight -- but at least it's easy to tell who's on what side. Only one side is wielding swords, and the other guns.

But then you come across someone who doesn't look like they're either -- not one of the rugged Barrayarans or the face-painted Cetagandans, but an outsider, an exotic like you. They must be. So do you fight?

RECON
Maybe you're not on the front lines, but there's plenty more to winning the war than just fighting. You're partnered with another outsider on recon; the ground is cold, and you try not to let your shoes crunch too loudly on snow as you scout, scanning for patrols or supply lines.

Or maybe you're with the Cetagandans, hiking it thorugh the mountains with one of your fellow exotics in an attempt to locate the enemy camp. Except it's damned cold, and there's hidden ice everywhere, and everything is starting to really look the same.

--

Feel free to write prompts for your character on either side -- you don't have to choose just one for the TDM! Just label it clearly so folks know. GO WILD, MY FRIENDS

Comments

countess olivia vorkosigan [ npc; barrayaran ] - ota

[truevor]

a. the barrayaran camp (stables)

Of the two sisters, Princess and Countess Olivia Vorkosigan is the less conversational of the two — straight faced and serious when their new… recruits arrived, and no-less icy as they’ve settled in. They are a resource, a potentially valuable one, and Olivia cannot argue with Piotr over using them to fight, not when they’re in the middle of winter. More mouths to feed, maybe, but more people who can go out and attempt to get supplies without instantly alerting the Cetagandans that they’re Barrayarans.

The rare down day finds Olivia not with her husband but in the stables, dressed in riding gear, busy with a fine mare. There’s an ease to her movements, a gentleness that isn’t often seen in the Countess as she goes about brushing and feeding the animal. For once her face isn’t set into a thin line but a small smile as she murmurs soft words of encouragement to her horse.

Anyone disturbing her will find themselves not shooed away, but waved over. “Bring me that saddle,” she says with a gesture, more focused on getting the other tack down from the wall than she is caring about whoever else has disturbed her. If they’re going to spend their time around here, they’d best make themselves useful.

b. the barrayaran camp (wildcard)

The Countess Vorkosigan is not easy to miss, despite her relative shortness when compared to the other Barrayarans around her. At any point in the day one can find her making her way around camp, oversized general’s greatcoat buckled around her waist, thin rapier hanging off of it, and her skirts hiked up to keep the hem dry as she follows the main paths to and from the important areas of camp. It isn’t the most opportune time to catch the General Count’s wife for a conversation, but if someone shows interest she’ll stop long enough to hold a small conversation.

She can also be found in the war tent when Piotr and his staff are not present, switching between flipping through correspondences and staring at the maps while writing something down on a flimsy — occasionally pausing to double check something in the pile of classified information. One might have to cough to catch her attention, or to ask where the General Count himself is and what, exactly, she’s doing there.

c. the village

Here, at least, Olivia looks less like a Princess and Countess and more like some Dendarii hill folk — dressed in a rough dress and a heavy wool coat — she blends in amongst the crowd; except for the way she holds herself, chin high and shoulders set back. For those that look closer, when the wind pulls on her skirts just so, there’s the finely crafted hilt of a knife sticking up from the top of one of her valenki.

The hilt of a dagger that is currently being made off with someone daring enough to grab it. Olivia spins, grabbing the arm of whoever is next to her and gestures after the retreating back. “Stop them,” she hisses, before taking off after the culprit herself. More than its value, Olivia is primarily concerned with someone taking the only weapon she’ll allow herself to openly cary in the village and the fact it’s distinctly a vorfemme knife, and no Cetagandan worth their salt wouldn’t fail to know what that meant.

c.

[pigsfeet]

Daryl is the guy with a long string of dead squirrels tied loosely around his back, who sees a pickpocket nab something shiny that surely ain't his. It doesn't take much for Daryl to see where this is headed, and he's quick to follow it along to its conclusion.

Note: It's conclusion involves Daryl yelling at the top of his lungs. "Hold it, asshole!" Daryl's on the chase, making good speed despite his late start. He'll press any advantage he has, though, and that includes untying his squirrel string and using it as a makeshift lasso. He lobs it forward in a wide arc, intending to trip the thief with his would-be dinner.

You're welcome, princess.

[truevor]

That's certainly one way to stop a thief. Olivia stops her attempt at chasing after the culprit with the bellow of hold it, asshole and doesn't begin again when she sees what weapon of choice the man is using. Is that his dinner? It doesn't stop the thief, but it does make them drop the knife -- Olivia will let the unfortunate presumed Barrayaran go this time, in the interest of securing the knife.

"Do you normally favor such an unusual weapon?" She asks, turning back to the stranger once she's reclaimed the blade from the snow, turning it over in her gloved hands to inspect it. "Or was that a moment of fortunate improvisation?"

[pigsfeet]

Hey, it worked. Daryl didn't catch the shithead, but that's not really important-- if this lady is who he's starting to suspect she is, they'd probably string the poor kid up by his fingernails or some shit. Better he gets away with it.

Daryl turns to the maybe-princess, expression blank. He's not gonna answer a question that's so obviously set up to make fun of him. Instead, he opts to glare at her and mutter, "You're welcome."

[truevor]

It wouldn't be Olivia's instinctual response. Piotr's? Well, there's a reason Olivia isn't hunting the kid down. Desperation forces people to do unwise things, and unless it's a repeat offense she sees no reason to punish one of Piotr's own district people. "Thank you," she says, with a slight incline of her head as her gaze becomes piercing. "I've seen you in camp, have I not?"

[pigsfeet]

Daryl tilts his head to the side, which makes one of the squirrel pelts that makes his hood flap sadly in the wind. "Been around. I supposed to bow now?"

Translation: Hello, your majesty.

[truevor]

"You are no Barrayaran subject," Olivia points out calmly, meeting his gaze. "And therefore are not beholden to the" narrow "confines of our culture. You may insult someone by doing so." Or slight her honor by not recognizing her rank at all. Marriage had not robbed her of being Vorbarra in anything other than name, and she still holds the title of Princess because of it.

"A deeper incline of your head will suffice," she says, giving him a slight bow of her's as an example.

[pigsfeet]

Either she didn't catch his sarcasm or doesn't care. It doesn't much matter to Daryl, who doesn't really care either. Figures of authority don't mean much where he's from, especially lately. He folds his arms over is chest, and doesn't incline his head an inch. Telling his version of a joke, he mumbles, "Nah, I'm American."

Who knows if that matters at all in space. Daryl takes a step away, and gestures for her to follow. "C'mon, let's get you home."

[truevor]

Doesn't care is right no the nose. Olivia arches a brow at him, the ghost of a smile flitting over her face. "I see. They always did like passing on their egalitarian values, until the point someone decided to create a giant radioactive crater in the middle of it." The casualness with which he says let's get you home chases the amusement from her face, eyes narrowing.

"If I needed a chaperone I would have taken one of my Armsmen," Olivia points out, tone cool. She isn't a child -- it isn't Daryl's fault that the words he picked struck a nerve, however, and she waves him on with a hand.

[pigsfeet]

Somebody nuked America? About time, the way things were going. He hopes the entire country isn't like the disgusting pit that became Atlanta, walkers flailing around in melted skin, but if it is, at least it can't get any worse. So he shrugs at the knowledge, and files it away to tell Beth later.

Daryl watches himself be dismissed, and goes over a quick mental inventory-- should he care that she doesn't want to go with him? Ultimately, he decides, he'll get in more trouble for leaving her back there, especially if she gets caught in a bad scrape again.

Dryly, "Armsmen any good at making sure you don't get stolen from? Or that just me?"

[truevor]

"My Armsmen excel at protecting my life," is her answer, and then another small hint of a smile, "so it must just be you." So long as he doesn't treat her as if she's a child, she'll allow her good nature to seep back into the conversation.

Olivia moves to make her way back at the camp, gesturing for him to follow and not even bothering to ask. It's the assumption that comes with status and power, and Olivia is oblivious to it.

[pigsfeet]

That chafes at Daryl more than anything, but he knows she's won the gambit. He's stated a want-- the want to get her the fuck back home-- and you can pull that chain both ways. He can't blame her for using it.

She's a fucking princess, he thinks. The hell's he expecting, that she doesn't know how to own his ass?

Muttering an old cuss under his breath, he follows. "You got a horse?"

a

[sibearian]

Zarya was mostly just exploring, but she's not adverse to assisting with such a simple task.

She brings it over, smiling at the horse. She's... not actually seen one in person for a long time.

"Such a beautiful creature. What is the name?"

[truevor]

"Paladin," confesses Olivia with a fond pat of the mare's neck. "I was not a very creative child." Although her sister was no better, thankfully. Olivia doesn't look at Zarya first, instead reaching out for the saddle and strapping it on with short, quick movements that betray her skill at it. It's only once she's finished that she turns to look over at the other woman.

And then up. Whatever she was expecting, Zarya isn't it. "I don't think we've met." She would remember.

[sibearian]

"He is beautiful."

Zarya watches her affix the saddle, a little longingly. She wants to pet the horse. She wants to pet it so bad.

"I have not had much time to explore as of yet. I am Zarya," she says, clutching her hand to her chest and bowing slightly. "And you are...?"