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

rani/queen lakshmibai | the order: 1886 | OTA

[shri]

THE VILLAGE

[ She isn't fond of the cold. Though she has to admit, this is definitely better that it has elected to be frozen. Too long has she lived in the miserable English weather with it's rain that could never quite make its mind up other than to pour and pour. Not like the monsoons, not hot and clean, just sodden and grey tainted. No, England, or at least Whitechapel, some days was just like wading through mud for how much the ground never seemed to dry up.

The ground at least was solid underfoot here. Something she could respect - if rustic, perhaps, even to her. Then again, she wasn't as current to something of the things she'd seen. It makes her be wary. Rather, she's aware that the blackwater will no longer heal her, for all she must keep drinking it. So, instead, she wraps herself up as warmly as she can to stave off a cold. Seems inevitable, though her teeth clench tightly in a refusal to let them chatter as she draws the thick hood up her head, settling it over her hair and gold hair piece. Walking along the roads until she falls into step with someone else and nods to them once in greeting. ]

Are you heading to the stables as well?

PVP

[ It's hardly a consideration that she fights - not even because she so much cares for these people. Insists to herself, that they are not her people. She has her own wars to be fighting. Her own Empire to be throwing down.

But they are people in need of protection, and it seems, she cannot help herself.

Though she's reckless, of course, she is. She'd like to make an excuse that it is because these days, the blackwater does not heal her where it used to it. But it hadn't mattered before she had it, either, on the battlefields of Kalpi and Gwalior, and it doesn't now. The fact is, she was raised to battles such as this. Raised to the sword in her hand and she is eager to be in the fight. Not a leader this time, just one more soldier in the line that pulls sword that has been provided to her, horse comfortable under her, until it's over.

Which, she's usually worse for wear at the end of it. Sometimes, like this time, it's worse: she's separated, upon her horse, and bleeding from a wound to the leg, that she's desperately holding closed with her free hand. The sword is gripped tightly in the other, blood slick on the blade, breathing hard with the effort of keeping herself upright as the animal is nervous underneath her for the smell of blood that keeps coming fresh.

Means she's not good company when she finds herself with it. Snatching up the reigns in her sword hand, pulling the animal back and it protests to the sudden demand. ] Keep your distance. [ Barked like she has a right to be issuing orders. The gold of her jewellery still proudly worn from a time long gone glimmers as she turns her head to keep her eye on her present... acquaintance.

Maybe it has nothing to do with the fact that she's a queen, she figures there's authority enough in the blood that's on the blade. Fresh and red and as it's held, dripping over her knuckles onto the snow below, mixing into tainted slosh as the horse's hooves turn up the ground under it. ]

BARRAYAN CAMP v.1 - MERRIEMENT

[ Her injury leaves her laid up for the first days as the celebration goes on. Leg propped up and wrapped up, but she doesn't let it stop her interest in the festivities. Though it's cautious, she has never been too interested in these sorts of gatherings, burned by them perhaps and what they had cost her in a war not so dissimilar to this. But it is important to put in a showing, she knows.

So she's set up somewhere comfortable, - her back leaning against something solid and convinent, a drink very slowly nursed in her hand - moderation in all things, and she isn't fond of the idea of being drunk if and when battle broke out if she could not count on the blackwater to heal her and clear her mind. No, no never again. Still, it wasn't her place to make demands so she settles herself to be one of the rabble so to speak.

Oh, how laughable. But her rank means nothing here, and there's something to being just another rank in file. No wonder the Knights stayed together the way they did. She enjoys it now, laughing along with the rest at the entertainments and amusements in the way of drunken men and women tossing themselves about as the drink commanded them too. Feels the warmth in her mouth and her limbs that mercifully dulls the steady throb in her leg. Her laughter high and easy in bursts.

Every so often, gingerly when she thinks someone's free, asking for help isn't exactly her way - but damn it all if her leg didn't pang when she got up and down in particular. ] I don't suppose I could enlist you momentarily?

BARRAYAN CAMP v.2 - TENT ADVENTURES

a ). [ She does her best to mind her own business in the tent, - living in a brothel for too many years has definitely made her used to shared spaces after living in palaces before that. This definitely isn't her fortress, and there's not much to do with it, in the end, but try and keep arms and legs to yourself. Stows her kit and there's the brief little conversation that comes with it as she tucks her swords by her pillow. ] This won't be in your way, will it?

b ). [ .... Later on though, hunkering down for the night it's peaceful for awhile until the storm begins. Handle that too, but the winds - they howl, loud and shrieking and it makes it hard to sleep and every so often she just wants to curse them to be quiet ( safer to be irritated than admit anything else ). To anyone else with the same reaction, she goes to comfort them, rather than deal with how they discomfort her. ] Seems the storm wants for conversation. [ Her leg is aching with the cold, absently rubbing above the wound to relieve the pressure. Hard-eyed in the dark. ]

barrayaran camp v1

[vorbratta]

[ sonia's barrayaran enough to have a tolerance for maple mead, even if she prefers wine, but she doesn't drink too much. it always pains her armsman bodyguard when he has to keep track of a drunk princess, and she thinks that maybe she ought to cut him a break. that doesn't stop her from being perfectly social, though. god, until the outsiders popped up, she mostly hasn't had anyone but all these soldiers and her sister for company.

she's tipsy and teetering by when lakshmi politely requests her help. sonia wonders if anyone's told this woman she's a princess, and fervently hopes not. people always get with the bowing and scraping, and it's no fun after a while. ]

Oh -- certainly! [ sonia's expression is just slightly glazed, but the smile is genuine, and while she's no soldier, she's tall enough that she should be able to help leverage lakshmi to her feet. ] Oh -- what happened to your leg?

[shri]

[ If she does, she makes no mention of it, rather she's glad for the assistance, because as it stands, she's not a particularly tall woman. Nor heavy, even if she's all muscles. Gratingly, these days, without the blackwater, nowhere near as strong as she used to be, either.

Makes her pride soothed enough to take the hand in offering, so to speak. ] Carelessness, and an enemy's advantage of it, nothing more. [ she nods to it. The bandage that's a lump underneath her pants. More than anything, she's irritated by it, rather than worried. ]

[vorbratta]

[ sonia's brow wrinkles as she glances down at lakshmi's leg. even in the dim light of the campfire, she can see the bandage under lakshmi's trousers. ]

Ooh, damn. That looks like it hurts. Not plasma fire, I hope... Here --

[ apparently not content with just helping lakshmi to her feet, sonia tugs the other woman's arm over her shoulders. ]

So, where to?

[shri]

[ She grimaces for it, or rather she has a habit of always looking grim, looking exhausted. Easy to do when you're too old for the body you're in. She might have been thinking of another drink, but as soon as she feels the movement ache all the way she knows all she's had enough for one evening. ]

My tent, I think. I am at my best for the evening, best to not stress it further.

[vorbratta]

Tent it is!

[ that chirp is punctuated with a little grunt as sonia helps lakshmi move along, quite determined to help her all the way. sonia never gets to do anything around here. good for morale, they say. pbbtbththh. to hell with that. even if it's just helping an outsider, it beats sitting around, feeling so useless all the time. ]

I think you're the wiser for it, really. [ it's like a little confession, accompanied with a little smile. a bit rich coming from her, but she's not too drunk, at least. ] You wouldn't believe how obnoxious some of these men can get on that stuff. Or maybe you would. I don't suppose rude drunks are a universal constant.

[shri]

[ It is a relief, to not have to hold her weight on the leg, feeling its pang up her whole body in a way she had not felt pain linger in an age. The blackwater might be a cursed object, for all no one knew where it came from in truth, but it certainly stopped this problem, to say the least.

But the vial is no more than a liquid made of her own blood at her neck, keeping her alive, but healing her no longer. So she must endure her pride being made to hobble, leaning on this girl for how Lakshmi has aged now. Though it's not on her face, still young in appearance, small mercy that. ]

Unfortunately, it would seem so. But they are men, a good whack to their heads tends to sort them out where they get brash, so I've found the same too.

[vorbratta]

[ sonia puffs out a laugh that turns into more of a giggle. ]

Don't I know it. Wish I could get away with giving them a good thwacking sometimes. But, [ she sighs ] sometimes they're the only ones around to talk to.

[shri]

[ Being nearly sixty - damn, she doesn't feel like putting that out loud for reasons that are less secrecy, more her vanity - gives one a certain amount of authority. Being a Queen does too, granted, of a different sort. ]

I am quite sure you could, when they are being rowdy, such as is your place, Princess.

[vorbratta]

[ sonia gives half-pout at being found out, but she's still enjoying the benefits of frank conversation, and she's not going to make a fuss. she does huff out a laugh at that, shaking her head. ]

God, no. You'd think being Vor of all Vor would grant me that privilege, but my sister and her husband both would have it out at me if I did. I'm supposed to be a symbol of morale, and -- [ she makes a face and effects a halfway decent impression of piotr ] for God's sake, Princess, stay out of trouble!

[shri]

[ Takes one to know one, and that being said, she was a daughter of a strict order of herself - raised in the court of the Peshwa, the ilk of Bajirao himself. Then to her husband's household where she learned the ways of the Brahamin, a order she learned from girlhood to observe.

She's no stranger to the concern of what is acceptable. ]

I am not sure how I should offer words to you, to speak of what I would do in your place would surely cross your sibling and her husband. [ It's laughing, cut short with a breath of pain as she keeps walking. The momentary curl of her fingers against the material of her clothes in the aftershock. ] Men are close to dying and crave something to hang onto. Not out of cruelty. In my experience, that you know their faults and do not hate them for it, is what they truly crave. Soon enough, after all, they will meet their Gods. You will be their closest consolation in those times.

el village.

[pigsfeet]

[Daryl, covered in furs and largely unclean, assumes she thinks he's another villager, a native of no import. That's fine, as far as he's concerned. It's not an assumption he's going to correct.]

[On the other hand, he thinks he knows who she is. It's hard to forget all the gold on her face and in her hair. He think he's seen her around the Barrayaran camp, fighting and smiling and joking. He hasn't seen anything in her he'd disapprove of.]

[Then again, it's not like he's talked to her. He hasn't seen anything to approve of, either.] Yeah, sure. You?

[Daryl Dixon, personable as hell.]

[shri]

[ What is this hobo speaking to her?

Granted, she's not exactly better so far as dirt goes. For one thing, she's been covered in her fair share of dirt since she lived in Whitechapel. Secondly, camp life seems to breed dirt in some form or another. Between the horses, the close quarters and everyone tracking it everywhere, it's just how it goes. ] The same. We are to ride out soon, seems as good a time to get used to what we will be relying on soon enough.

[ And there's an edge there, that's carefully contained, or she tries to - she might be looking forward to this part. ]

[pigsfeet]

Got a horse? [Lucky lady. Daryl shrugs, noncommittal as she's trying to be.] I've been hoofing it.

[shri]

[ Probably not, too bad, she's taking it anyway. ]

Can you ride? [ important questions. ]

[pigsfeet]

[Daryl shrugs, which makes one of the skinned squirrels on his shoulder flop around.] Don't got a horse.

WOWOWOW

[shri]

[ She shakes her head, smiling faintly. Mostly that people usually didn't have horses - she hadn't for years, because if nothing else, they were expensive to upkeep. Seldom did people own a horse. ] I did not ask that, I asked if you could ride?

[pigsfeet]

I rode before. [Not particularly well, not particularly skillfully, not even for particularly long. But she didn't ask about that, did she.]

Suddenly prose cause phone tags

[shri]

"Well then, you should join me." As they reach it, she pushes the door open, and it's warmer than outside, enough that she pushes her hood back. The sound of horses, other people speaking in low voices. Home, to her, in its way.

eyyyyyy

[pigsfeet]

Daryl doesn't budge, just stares at the lady swanning around the stables. "Depends on where you're going."

PVP

[triple_queen]

[The woman she's come upon holds herself in a similar regal fashion, watching the other woman approach with little concern. She's wounded, and apparently turned around while trying to ride a horse with no hands. She never got so far as to ride a horse, but she imagines that it's hard to do holding a sword in one hand and a wound in the other.]

Mind yours, lest you find yourself in a place where one wound is the least of your troubles. [She tilts her head in the other direction.] If your aim be to take our encampment with one steed and one leg, press on. Wisdom dictates you head away and to the southeast, before the soft-handed boy pissing against a tree spots his path upward and calls his fellows to give chase.

[shri]

[ If she had more time with them, to train a beast the way she preferred, it wouldn't be a problem at all. Guide it with her knees, the way a warhorse ought to be trained. The way hers had been. But as it is, it is not, it panics with the scent of blood, and the slicks red on her hands makes it difficult to keep as tight a hold as she likes. ]

Would it not be easier to kill him? Make sure he's not calling to anyone.

[triple_queen]

[She shrugs.] It matters not to Empress Morrigan. Many children live and die this winter. But speaking purely of odds, I would not bet on the one who, injured, brings a knife to a gun fight.

[shri]

I've faced worse odds. [ Supremely arrogant, she always is and she doesn't break contact. It's what she does, it's how she's always gotten through every hardship that had befallen her, and in battle in particular, there was nothing survived by giving even an inch.

But then, she had lost her Kingdom to the howls of the Lycans. ] Why should I trust your supposed benevolence in letting me escape?

[triple_queen]

And your luck no doubt flows like an unending fount, never to run out. If only all could be as bless'd as you. [No kidding, that arrogance could be a match for Badb's. Though she doubts she'd pose as much of a threat with her leg slashed like that. Perhaps that's why the redheaded terror hadn't made an appearance yet, and she's a little thankful for that. The Empress is tired of blood for today.]

They have brought this most willful child of war and death to their field, without asking if she would care to assist. She does not-- Mistress Morrigan has other beasts to wrestle with, and wastes what little time she has on this strange mudball.