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

a.

[vorrutyer]

By hadn't ever had the dubious pleasure of meeting Official Old Stick Piotr Vorkosigan while the old stick was alive. But he'd met Aral Vorkosigan, and had always just assumed that Piotr was basically the same, just less burly. Not so much, as it turns out: he is a bit less burly, he was right about that part, but he's definitely not the same. Definitely not the same. The difference, By thinks, is this: Aral Vorkosigan always seems like he's barely holding back from eviscerating you with some droll witticism or cogent observation; Piotr Vorkosigan just seems like he's barely holding back from eviscerating you.

Of all the places in the camp that Byerly does not want to be, General Old Stick's tent is number one. But his life, and his mental and spiritual well-being, for the glory of Barrayar, so: here he is.

"General Count Vorkosigan," he acknowledges. Illyan never gets hung up about saluting, and Alys Vorpatril would scold him for his silliness if he ever saluted her, and so actually giving proper deference to a superior officer is not something he's well acquainted with. And he can't remember if there are differences in how you're supposed to acknowledge superior officers of other branches, since it's not like any of them have the security clearance to know who he is and what he does...So, in true ImpSec style, his deference to arguably the greatest military mind in Barrayaran history is sketchy and vague. "Reporting for duty." Sort of.

laughs softly

[oldvor]

Piotr is none too impressed with Byerly's weak display of military anything. He's met at least a few outsiders of solid soldier material -- even among the women, to his occasionally begrudging surprise -- but this one seems to have about the combat potential of a twelve-year-old girl.

"With great reluctance, it seems," he says dryly. Yes, Byerly, he heard your bitching and moaning about shoveling snow. He's seen Byerly's type before. Resistant to discipline, but you can usually beat it into them. "Your voice carries."

these two are gonna love each other obvs

[vorrutyer]

Well, this is going...about as well as can be expected. Somehow, By suspects that when he says he's a spy, he's going to be on the receiving end of more contempt, not less. Never mind that in however-many years, Byerly is going to be risking life, limb, and liver in service of the Emperor, and saving the Imperium - or at the very least preserving it, that counts, damn it...

He doesn't protest Piotr's little bit of snark about his voice (he could pretend that he was bitching as part of his persona, but honestly, it's mostly that he just hates manual labor) and instead says to him, "My brand of duties tend not to be of this...direct sort. Marching into battle, hunkering down with the soldiers, all that." He raises his eyes to the roof of the tent to avoid what will, no doubt, be a truly withering glare. "This is a highly classified secret, General Count Vorkosigan, but I'm ImpSec. IS8." But deserving of IS9, damn it. "And all of that expertise is at your disposal."

they'll be making friendship bracelets by the end of the week

[oldvor]

Byerly's right, this isn't going over particularly well. Piotr's eyes narrow, hardening, especially when Byerly looks away. He has a hard time believing he was sent by Dorca's man, especially considering he showed up with the outsiders -- a skilled spy could blend in, sure, but Piotr huffs out a humorless breath at highly classified secret. This clown, IS8? God, he hopes not. Piotr's lips thin.

"Show me your hands."

[vorrutyer]

His hands -

Ah.

When he holds them out, it's with an expression that's equal parts ironic, frustrated, and long-suffering. They are manicured hands, soft hands. In his defense, though, he utters a droll, "In my particular department, the ImpSec armory is fairly empty of swords. More nerve disrupters. My personal weapon of choice, of course, is the wineglass, which is one that does not get nearly enough respect."

bullshits the name of negri's predecessor w/e

[oldvor]

Piotr's the sort of man who can abruptly drop his respect for personal space, and he does so now, taking hold of one of Byerly's wrists. Softer and paler than the hands of any Imperial Security officer he's ever met. And the man's flippant, long-suffering tone does not endear him to Piotr. Rather, the General Count is considering the merits of making an example of this clown, though he suspects his wife may have some objections.

"Nerve disruptors," Piotr repeats dryly, and doesn't acknowledge the wineglass part beyond a withering look that slaughter an entire garden. "I wasn't aware that Captain Vorvolk had added galactic weaponry to Imperial Security's limited arms."

Spy, perhaps, he's starting to buy -- but not for their side.

bullshits vorrutyer family history w/e

[vorrutyer]

"Captain Illyan," Byerly corrects, suppressing a wince at the hardness of Piotr's grip (though it's not like there's any way that the old stick's estimation of him could drop any further; Byerly feels as though he could outright proposition the man here and now and it would actually bring Count Old Vor some pleasure and relief, if only because then he could cut off By's balls or whatever the punishment for that was back in this benighted time). This, he suspects, is not going to go well; hell, he'll be lucky if Piotr doesn't skin him alive for saying these insane sounding things. But, well...The look he shoots Piotr is identical to the one he wears before taking a swig of maple mead. This is going to be miserable, but here we go.

"Count General Vorkosigan, I'm a Vorrutyer. Byerly Vorrutyer, to be exact, is my name. I'm sure that you're not familiar with any Byerly Vorrutyers of my age - I believe the only other Byerly currently alive is creaky and decrepit." As creaky and decrepit as you'll one day be, you dusty old crow.

"This is because I've come from a very different sort of Barrayar." At the last moment, he decides to hold back on time travel; best to keep things vague, in case he has to backtrack later. "One with all sorts of galactic weaponry, yeah, and a prole Chief of ImpSec - he's truly a revelation, by the way - and not a Cetagandan on the entire planet. Or, well, not a Cetagandan with any ill intention, we do have that ambassador. His only offenses against Barrayar are - " Crimes against good taste gets swallowed - it's unlikely Vorkosigan will appreciate that quip - in favor of: "Diplomatic ones."

[oldvor]

It's a bold move, throwing out the shocking truth like that. Piotr stares at Byerly throughout his whole spiel with that stone-like face, immovable. When he's finally done, the General Count raises his voice without turning his head.

"Armsman Serben, detain this man."

[vorrutyer]

What? Shit, shit, shit. Byerly can just about feel the blood drain from his face. Detain - He holds out his hands, fighting down panic.

"Hold on," he jabbers, "hold on, that's - that's insane. I can prove I'm Barrayaran, and Vor, and you know you don't know me. Look at me," he says, gesturing towards his face. "I look like a Vorrutyer. And why would I say any of this to you if it weren't true?" He gestures towards all of them, a grand gesture encompassing the whole of the Barrayaran camp. "Why would I ever? What could I get out of it? Don't detain me," he finally grates out. "The others come from other places - why can't I come from another Barrayar?"

[oldvor]

"You look like a Vorrutyer," Piotr confirms, his voice dropping to a low growl, "but you sound like a Cetagandan spy. And not a very good one, either. I think you'd better start talking straight, boy."

The two Armsmen who have taken hold of Byerly's arms tighten their grips encouragingly.

[vorrutyer]

See, this is why you never tell the truth. This is why you always lie. Why didn't he lie? What possessed him to be honest? Some desire to help Barrayar, to employ his knowledge of her future for the betterment of her past...Patriotism has always been one of his greatest character flaws, truly.

Somehow, he swallows down the hysterical joke about how he has always had trouble talking straight, would talking bisexual do?, and heroically resists the urge to try to jerk his arms out of the burly grip of those Armsmen. "Sir," he responds instead, desperation edging his voice, "you're the ranking officer in the area. I'm obligated to tell you everything. So I'm trying to tell you everything. The fact that everything is insane right now does not make me a Cetagandan spy." In frustration, he snarls, "The Cetagandans don't send bad spies!"

[oldvor]

That point does give him pause, and Piotr turns a very piercing, very unfriendly look directly at Byerly. A grain of sense, perhaps, but it doesn't make him trust this buffoon any more.

"No, they usually don't," Piotr agrees in a murmur, his tone thoughtful, but not in a way that encourages many good thoughts. "Unfortunately, that lends even less sense to your babbling. Perhaps you're just not in your right mind."

Insane, cowardly, traitorous -- none of these are useful to Piotr in the least.

[vorrutyer]

Well, that's a little bit of an improvement. A Cetagandan spy would get...Hah, no, not fast-pentaed, this is far too early for fast-penta. Tortured. Old-fashioned tortured. By had been with a man, once, who was something of a history fanatic and had wanted a re-enactment of Brutal Barrayaran And His Enhanced Interrogation Techniques On His Sexy Vulnerable Betan Captive - all very kinky - but By suspects that experience is less than relevant, since Piotr Vorkosigan's favored torture technique probably doesn't involve a feather. More relevant is By's own ImpSec training, but...While he generally knows techniques for interrogation in the absence of fast-penta, because everyone does, none of them were really pain-based. None of them were Dendarii-style. Byerly really doesn't want the Dendarii treatment of a captured Ceta traitor.

He doesn't especially want the Dendarii treatment of a madman, either, but, hell, that's at least an improvement.

"Well, madness does run in the Vorrutyer line, they say," By replies, grinning something ghastly. And the Vorbarra line, too. And if you'd listen to me, maybe you'd hear a thing or two about what's waiting for your wife and children... No, as furious and as terrified as By is, he finds he can't take any sort of vicious pleasure in the misfortunes that will befall Vorkosigan and his descendants. Damn his conscience.

That same conscience makes him push again, push insanely, when he should be trying to preserve his own hide: "But if you really think that, turn me loose amongst the Cetagandans. Let me darken their doorstep. And then maybe I'll send back a letter or two to you, and you can read them and decide whether they're the ravings of a madman - or intel that you can use."

The smart response would have been Yes, sir, sorry, sir, you're right, I was a liar pulling a prank. Ha ha whoops, someone put me up to it, have you met Ivan? Instead...Well. His life for Barrayar, right?

[oldvor]

"Turn you loose on the Cetagandans with knowledge of our location, you mean?" Piotr gives him a flat look. "If I don't trust you as a spy in my own camp, what makes you think I'd trust you any more as a spy for me? No, you don't really strike me for a madman nor even a particularly bad spy. Just a very special kind of idiot."

[vorrutyer]

Yes, Byerly thinks in furious frustration. A very, very special kind. The kind who won't just walk away, even though it'd be smarter, even though his zealous service to Barrayar in this time might cause a damned time paradox and make it so he wasn't even born. The kind of idiot who takes nothing seriously except his oath to his Emperor and to ImpSec, and so who won't put his own well-being and the well-being of the fabric of the universe ahead of that promise. The kind of idiot who keeps forgetting that sometimes, these Old Vor sons of bitches just decide that they know what the truth is, and won't ever, ever listen to you, even when what you're saying is plainly the truth, even when you wouldn't lie about it, even when they have no reason to stick to their own story except stupid pride and hatred of you...

For just a brief, quick flash, the look that Byerly shoots Piotr is pure Vorrutyer. A look of arrogant, contemptuous, elegant hatred, haughty superiority and dislike. Not the sort of look that a (putative) serviceman should be shooting a superior officer - but exactly the sort of look that Vorrutyers have given Vorkosigans at various points throughout Barrayaran history.

"Fine," he says, jerking his shoulder to shift the grip of the burly armsman gripping his right. His joints are starting to ache. "Then turn me loose to shovel snow and drool and shamble about like the special sort of idiot I am, sir. I serve at your pleasure." However misguided that pleasure might be.

laughs softly

[oldvor]

Oh, that's a Vorrutyer, alright. Don't think he doesn't know it, Byerly -- his grandfather was Le Sanguinaire, after all. Piotr Vorkosigan knows the Vorrutyers well. Piotr returns the look with one of his own -- not so haughty and superior as it is full of razor-edged conviction and, above all else, a loyalty to the Emperor so whole and tenable that there's nothing Piotr wouldn't do in his service. Jaw tight, eyes hard, Piotr leans in close to Byerly with that uncomfortable Vorkosigan aura of utter intensity.

"No, you don't," he growls. "You serve at the Emperor's command. Take care not to forget that, Vorrutyer."

He straightens up, a look of disgust washing over his face. "I have neither the patience nor the time to entertain insubordinate malcontents. You're of better use to me working than idle, but even an impotent worm can make for good bait."

He doesn't deign to clarify that, only raising his eyebrows slightly at Byerly. "Now," he says brusquely, "if you have any intelligence to substantiate these claims to security, bring them to my attention immediately. Otherwise..." He nods to one of the liveried men holding Byerly's arms. "Armsman, please show this man to the stables."

That's right, Byerly, you're on mucking duty.