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

[forwardmomentum]

Miles is starting to feel indignant at having his questions brushed aside like that, and a little light-headed on top of it. He might be upright now, but he feels disorientingly capsized. He opens his mouth to object multiple times before Mark cuts him off, and finally bursts out, "I don't have the synthetics anymore! And I fell out of a -- that's what happened! What happened to you? You didn't look so -- you didn't look like that when you left Earth!"

[jacksonian]

"When...I left...?" That's enough to knock him off-balance. Why is Miles talking about Earth? The last time they were both on that planet was years ago. The very first time they'd met, when Galen had launched his plot...It seems a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago. That was well before Lord Mark was born, after all. So why is Miles bringing it up?

No synthetics. No synthetics anymore, which is strange - what does that mean? - but no synthetics. Unfamiliar uniform - maybe something from his covert ops days. And startled by what Mark looks like.

Oh, shit. Time travel, right? And nothing says that everyone has to time travel from the same point in time...

"What was the year for you? Back home. Before you came here." Yeah. He doesn't have those scars on his throat - the cryo-prep scars. He looks younger, too, doesn't he? Or is that just an illusion, now that Mark's decided this?

[forwardmomentum]

"Ah -- " Miles stalls on that one, too, because what year was it, when he left the Moira? How does he quantify that? And he knows Mark can't possibly know that, but then again, he's not sure what Mark could possibly know, and a nervous giggle chokes its way out of his throat. Son of a bitch.

"Ha, uh -- ninety-eight," Miles finally manages, goggling at Mark, because that hasn't cleared up any. Time travel, right. He'd seen that happen from time to time on the Moira -- people from the same worlds but different times. "What about you?"

[jacksonian]

Mark doesn't laugh. He doesn't even crack a smile. He just stares in his bulldoggish way at his brother, searching his face to figure out whether that laughter was coming from desperation or from some ill-timed manifestation of Miles' bizarre sense of humor. The former, Mark decides.

"Oh-three," he responds, finally, crossing his arms across his chest. "Five years, then."

[forwardmomentum]

Ever in contrast, Miles lets out a cracked little laugh in response to Mark's confirmation of simple arithmetic. Five years, and this Mark is clearly not the one who'd been on the Moira with him. Fantastic.

"You wouldn't believe me where I got this uniform if I told you," Miles says almost sunnily, because if he's going to resign himself to insanity -- or at least the insanity of the situation -- he might as well not wallow in it. There's a definite cracked look all about him, though, the telltale signs of impending mania or just flat-out hysteria. He still hasn't managed to catch his breath, and three guesses as to why that is. "You didn't answer my question."

It's amazing how petulant a fully grown man can sound when he puts his mind to it.

[jacksonian]

"Your question? What question?"

Mark squints at Miles, confused. Had there been a question in the midst of that manic barrage that he'd missed? Well - probably, knowing Miles. He chatters on in great long paragraphs dripping with subclauses and dependencies that bury two, three, four questions in the midst of eighteen asides and five snide editorials. Someday, Mark hopes he gets to see Miles lead a fast-penta interrogation, just because he's morbidly curious as to whether his brother can dial it down enough to be effective. Though - at the same time - maybe he'd sooner avoid anything of the sort, since he'd prefer to stay out of his Auditorial line of fire.

[forwardmomentum]

Oh lord, if Miles ever knew that one day he'd be Lord Auditor.

Even in what he feels is an entirely rational ascent to hysteria, Miles still gives Mark a flat don't you what question me look. "The question about what the hell happened to you. Five years, alright, but -- what the hell happened?"

Miles, in a rare and entertaining moment of inarticulateness, just gestures wildly at Mark's...everything with one arm. His body, sure, but since when does Mark help him with anything so readily?

[jacksonian]

Oh. Right. Miles doesn't know everything. If it's five years ago, then...what? He'd be just off that misadventure on Earth. The last time they would have seen one another would have been after Miles gave him that credit-chit...That night he killed Galen. So - yeah. It'd be weird, he guesses. Mark all fat. Mark approaching his brother instead of running away.

Is it a relief? Knowing that Miles doesn't know about that Jacksonian misadventure? Or miserable, because he'll have to explain it at some point? A relief, he decides, for all that he can't help but dread the inevitable explanation. His brother, never having died. That's...good.

He sticks his hands into his pockets. Mutters in response - "It's...complicated." Then - "But I'm a Vorkosigan now. That's what matters."