woke up this morning from the strangest dream,

[agogemod]

WE RAN INTO MILLIONS;

and no one got paid

read the setting infopages.

ARRIVAL - DECEMBER 29th, 1915
The ship that is arrived on is a small, tightly packed, and a little bit more fabulous than perhaps first thought. It’s a solid hour on it before they come into sight of the beach between other ships that fill the coast around the Peninsula. Every so often, it’s possible to hear a shudder of gunfire rip apart the air as the British Navy bombards the shore.

But once a point is reached deemed suitable. All COST operatives are loaded up into smaller boats, about 20 people to one boat. The boats are wood, and in the early morning sun the water actually looks still, peaceful, until you get close enough and the first whistle of a bullet comes through the air to hit the water close to the small collection of boats.

The whistle comes, one, two, three sharp blows. The boat beaches at the shore and it’s out - out - out. Straight down into knee-high water that is absolutely freezing in the winter temperatures - best hold your gun up high to keep it dry. It’s a slog against the tide to get onto the beach and the cold clear day beats down with a frigid wind that sweeps across the beach.

And the second the beach is reached - it’s not the time to shiver in relief of being out of the water.

The first shell that drops sends a spray of sand, dirt, rock and metal across those gathered together. The second comes too close for comfort. Standing still is death, now. The whistle splits the air again and the call comes as a volley of machine gun comes with it. - move, move now! The ground splits apart, the ring of the explosion shatters against the ears. A high pitched sound that will last long after the shelling stops.

Head for camp, soldiers. Whatever safety can be afforded is in reaching those tents. But whatever you do: don’t stop moving. The shells don’t stop coming until you're firmly out of range.

GABA TEPE / ANZAC COVE

click to enlarge!

The base camp at the bottom of what is called ANZAC Cove, or just Gaba Tepe for those that have been there longer, is a hub of activity. Men are moving through in lines, some are heading up further into the uneven terrain that scales up to steep heights cut into the curve of trenches. Mules move carts and supplies, or sometimes just bodies. A teeming mess of languages is spoken, apart from English - Hindi and Punjabi, Irish Gael, the Australian and British slangs respectively is shouted backwards and forwards between the different groups as they mill through.

Mingled with it, the groans of wounded and dying men, as on the beaches men lay in lines on the beach. At times, they scream, at times, they groan with pain. The stench of blood and chemicals is fresh. Beginning sometimes for water or food, anything for a bit of relief from what they are. The nurses that are with them, easy to spot with their red capes and muddied white pinafores, move between the rows to give them respite.

It’s as full as a town, with the sheer amount of men moving about and this cannot be all of it as they all seem to follow a series of thoroughfares that lead up and out. The English Officers are easy to spot, in stiff brocade and remarkably less mud-stained and a site more clean shaven with impressive moustaches.

The main camp and base to reach further out into the trenches are… somewhat of a disarray when it is reached. The Landing Officer looks utterly confused with new soldiers that he never received orders ahead of time for. But that isn’t the real problem. There are a lot of other things happening and even if the undercover COST soldiers aren’t expected, they’re definitely welcome.

The General in Command, Sir Ian Hamilton - has just been sacked. The order has come down as a direct from England from Lord Kitchener himself, and the new commander - the now General Braithwaite has taken over. Sir Hamilton has been in command since the first day of the campaign and has been responsible for a great deal of the mistakes that have happened since then.

As such, there’s a great deal of whispering around the men about what this could mean - how the change in command could change the campaign. Does this mean there might be another attempt at a breakout, or does this mean they’re going home? No one knows just yet. But the buzz is real amongst them and it’s a much-needed sense of hope to the misery they’re experiencing.

Though if you try to get more information, you’re told to stop gossip with your Officers and they hurry you along. A series of orders: go up to the lines nearest to Lone Pine - there was a mudslide last night, the men there need help cleaning up.

THE TRENCHES
The order is to go up, COST operatives will be told to go up to the front lines, around the area known as Lone Pine, it’s where some of the worst fighting has occurred. Because whatever the briefing on conditions gave all operatives, it’s nothing at all to what the hell of it actually is. The war in the trenches is a lived in the battlefield. It’s a visceral, disgusting mess. No amount of training really ever could have prepared you for it. They dead peer out from rotten skulls where they’re built into the walls, they are underfoot, a smear of blood on boots that stick and mix with the mud. The winter rains have been mirthless and turns the earth to a slosh.

The stench is incomparably thick, it soaks into the skin, and it’s hard not to choke on it. A wet gagging feeling of death that feels almost immediately impossible to get off. The men of the trenches aren’t just always on the edge of a battlefield, they are living in one. And as you look around, you seem some older, men around twenty-three years of age, seems to the average point for soldiers. But look a bit harder at some of those dirt-stained faces reveals something uncomfortable.

There are boys here. Young men that can’t be older than fifteen for a day. But they’ve got the same lean, haunted look at the old men do. They grip their guns as hard as they can and do the same work as everyone else with little consideration.

Especially because ...

THE MUD SLIDE
The day before arrival, the winter rains that have swept across the peninsula. This is particularly a problem because of the nature of the trenches themselves the earth has been dug, shelled, filled with mines, had tunnels run through it and to say that it has come loose means very little. The trees that might have kept the now loose soil have long since been cut down, and the mass graves for soldiers that have been dug aren’t always as deep as they need to be for the sheer amount of bodies.

So when it started to rain and rain and rain for a full night? It seemed pretty inevitable that a mud slide of dirt, rocks, bullets, old equipment and bits and pieces of bodies came rolling down the hill and has closed off a full section of the trenches as it filled in the convenient gutter like space of the Trenches.

So every able body is given a shovel - and it’s time to put those digging drills to use as they’re shuffled into the rotations with the other long standing soldiers of the campaign. Put to digging on the rounds to give some relief to the people that had to start in the early morning light. If you were clean before - you definitely aren’t now. The mud easily comes up to your ankles when you step into it.

Small mercies, though, it seems no one was buried under the mudslide. So it’s mostly just clean up.

BRAWL
Granted, this puts everyone in close proximity together and it’s almost immediate that the heckling starts. As soon as the COST operatives and the older soldiers realise there is new arrivals. It starts with whistling and jeering. Things along the lines of: ‘look at the new boys,’ and ‘fresh off the boat from sydney are you?’ ‘you don’t look like you could stand up for twenty minutes’ ‘where are you lot from, they’re just letting anyone in these days’ said in a deriding manner start. Responding to them only seems to keep them going and it’s inevitable that eventually, a punch is swung.

Then it’s on.

Anyone who is around jumps in, old and new, swinging punches and wrestling each other to the ground. It goes on like this for a few minutes - it seems that this is a right of passage amongst the men. Until everyone’s got a bloody lip and a split brow and the Officers on duty step in and whistle to stop.

No matter how it starts, it ends the same everyone pulls apart and gets to their feet - and the older soldiers will lean in with a big grin and offer up their hand and haul up the new ones with a big clap on the back and a laughing welcome.

Welcome to Gallipoli.

LONE PINE

When the clean up is done, it seems it’s been worked out where to send everyone by the Officers. It’s decided they will be given to a section a little further from Lone Pine, a section closer to the front, and they’re sent to relieve a series that had been once full. But after a series of attacks has been left severely depleted. They will be under the command of Captain Lewis Morangey. Two of the longest-serving soldiers of the unit are Thomas Long and George Long.

In the Trench walls, there are knives stuck in the walls with letters pinned, dog tags hung. Carved little figures of wood have been left on boxes of supplies. Photos of loved ones are tucked in between sandbags. There are the dead stuffed in the corners here just as much. No one bothers to ask if they're Turkish or Australian. It’s a small mercy this is slightly uphill of other points, so it isn’t complete sludge underfoot. There’s a series of cut in holes in the wall as was described in the briefing, and sandbags left around to sleep on.

ROUTINE
The standard set for each soldier is two men on, two men off out of every four-man squad. When you’re off, you’re not expected to go far and be ready to be called on as soon as is needed, and most people use it to sleep - but you are in the end left to your own devices within that small space. You might want to use it to clear up around where you’re sleeping for the night. Or maybe see if there is any way at all to make the food palatable. In the cold damp, it might be nice to see if you can get a fire going. The break for Lunch still definitely applies where everyone agrees to stop shooting.

Outside of the sudden bouts of gunfire and shelling, it’s broken up into long sections of dullness. There is at least a couple of ways at least that soldiers keep themselves busy….

GOT A SMOKE?
One thing that becomes apparent in the trenches, is that every single soldier is smoking. They don’t fuss about sharing them either, happy to give them around, in fact the Captains encourage it. Don’t worry, the healing COSTs soldiers have means they don’t need to worry about health problems related with it. Because if you don’t want to smoke, you get a weird look.

Except when it’s night time, the second someone tries to light two cigarettes off one match, an older serving soldier will swat it away with a simple explanation: snipers. The light of a match can be seen for miles in the dark to someone with a scope, and lighting multiple cigarettes will help snipers pinpoint the position of someone in the dark and makes your chances of getting shot go right up.

BULLSEYE
As mentioned, things get boring in the trenches and soldiers come up with new and interesting ways to keep themselves entertained. The Turks too. It’s very common if you stick your head over the trench for a second - be quick - or if you use one of the periscopes that are crudely constructed by many soldiers, to see that the Turks are holding up…. Target signs. These are just as crude. Roughly painted circles on bits of wood. Or their shovels. Sometimes it’s just a hat on a stick that bob up and down on the line of the trenches with calls ‘hey Australian!’

And the Australians do it right back. Shovels and crudely cut out shapes of British officers in thin wood that they will dance backwards and forwards. Cheering will come from both sides for a good shot.

TWO UP
Gambling is common when you’ve got nothing else to do. Some of this is games of cards, or more standard games that are widely known. But one very particular ANZAC game is something called Two Up that soldiers can be found playing. It’s very simple: two coins - australian pennies - are tossed into the air, and everyone must guess what face they will land on, font ( the side with the sovereign's head ) or back ( with writing) before they land. It’s easy to see why it’s popular, it’s a very simple game that doesn’t require much. Everyone plays it just to kill the time, betting can be serious or just over the last pack of cigarettes - even if technically the Officers aren’t supposed to let them.

RUM RATIONS
The Australian Army still keeps this, and each week, soldiers are given the equivalent of two full cups of rum given to everyone in a bottle. This is powerful bartering currency in the trenches and…

… it tastes awful. Absolute swill that burns on the way down. But in the cold, it’s not bad to heat up on the fire and drink that way to keep you warm.

NURSES AND MEDICAL
If your character is being sent to the CSS, they’re immediately sent to Matron Mary Smythe - a tired woman whose kindness is hard to predict. She has seen just as much of the horrors of war as the boys she's trying to patch up, and some days, she is a kindly figure. Other days, the stress gets to her, and she is sharp and direct. One thing is for sure: she is the head of ANZAC medical, and what she says, goes.

And when you get there, you'll see why the stress can eat at someone. It’s little more than holding bodies together so they don’t bleed to death before they get on the ships. It does feel like putting bandaids on huge open wounds. Whatever can be done to get them shipped back to the Cairo, Egypt still alive. Others it’s a case of cleaning them up before they’re buried. Some of them aren’t injured, but they’re no less damaged.

SHELL SHOCK
The nurses call them Shellshocks. To modern eyes it's easy to know what they are, men so traumatized, they no longer can cope with what is happening around them. The war was more than anyone expected, and these men couldn’t handle it - and some swear they’re blind, others stutter through their words, others and this is common to almost all soldiers in the trenches now, regardless if they’re being shipped out for medical injuries or not: they scream in their sleep.

ACCESS TO MEDICAL
It’s very easy to get in and out of medical to switch places if need be, or get messages to members of staff. Nothing is exactly closely watched around it soldiers are aware of women being around but they know it’s not worth hearing it from their Commanders if they behave poorly near them. As such women are given a respectful distance and left a lot to their own devices. Not least of the fact that these women hold life and death in their hands for many of the men there. That being said, there's always too much happening for loitering to ever really be an option, and dalliances are dictated by the Matron. Namely, you aren't supposed to be having them.

read the setting infopages.

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC MEMES PLURK

Comments

1!

[garbagepilot]

[If there's one thing that Rey doesn't like, it's people picking on people who are smaller than them, less aware of their surroundings, or at some kind of disadvantage. It's hard not to look at Prompto at the edge of this fight looking lost, see him be grabbed, and immediately think of BB-8 in the net of a Teedo, captured by Unkar Plutt's thugs.

She would have been in the fight anyway, has already thrown her own share of punches, but when she sees someone go for the one who makes her desperately wish for her droid friend, she only sees one option.

That option is to punch them square in the face and then kick their legs out from under them, but she grabs onto the front of Prompto's jacket to keep him on his feet. His attacker goes down in a heap and there's a cheer that goes up around them for her show of force, but she keeps her attention on Prompto.]

Fight back. Don't just stand there.

[If he makes a habit of freezing up he's going to get himself killed.]

[millimeter]

[Prompto instinctively pulls back, shoulders hitched too high—wow??? even like this, he feels a trickle of admiration—and the surprise is transparent on his face.]

Right—

[He's heard that before, but it's enough to ground him and his eyes flick over Rey's shoulder. The cheering provided a brief lull, but then a soldier tackles another into their space and the spell is broken.]

—Look out!

[He reacts this time, at least, tugging on Rey's arm as he awkwardly side-steps the pair, trying to avoid them as they barrel by.]

[garbagepilot]

[Fighting is something she does on instinct and she knows, deeply, that she and Prompto are on the same side now. She can trust him so she does, pivoting on the ball of her foot and grasping his arm back, holding on while they twist out of danger.

It's like a very odd dance, and she puts her foot out to trip the soldier that went for them. He goes down hard, lands on his face in the mud, and she doesn't feel sorry about it in the least. Prompto might be a little awkward when he moves, but Rey flashes him a quick smile for saving her from that.]

Just stay with me, alright? They don't stand a chance.

[She probably shouldn't be taking this much pleasure from a fistfight in the middle of a war, but she gets it, the need to move and get some of the frustration out. It's better than just sitting around feeling miserable.]

[millimeter]

[She gets the barest glimmer of an unsure smile in return, one of the first Prompto's worn in a while. He's been hard pressed to find reasons for it since he got thrown off a train.]

You got it!

[He falls into place next to her and there's a small measure of comfort in that; he isn't used to fighting alone. He also isn't used to fighting barehanded and it shows in the way he tries to dodge more than he hits back, when another man—a friend of the first?—joins the fray, fists swinging.

Prompto takes a cue from Rey and trips the man, sending him off-balance in her direction.]

last jedi spoilerssss

[garbagepilot]

[This feels familiar, but in a way Rey isn't used to. For those handful of seconds when she was fighting back to back with Ben it had felt like this, free and perfect and the way it was supposed to be. She could put her trust in him, feel his movements and weave around him and put their attackers down with brutal efficiency.

Well, mostly. There were some snags here and there and she's still got a healing wound on her shoulder to show for it, but it had felt good to fight as a team.

It feels good to fight that way now and she does what she had with Ben, reaches out here and there to find Prompto's arm, his shoulder, recheck how he's doing as they go. Hand to hand fighting isn't what he's best at, no, but he's doing quite well when it comes to being a good, supportive partner.

And then he practically hands her a guy to hit and she can't help laughing, a little breathless from the fight but mostly just incredibly amused by all this. The man is on their side in the grand scheme of things, so she just pushes him right on past her into another soldier, watches the two of them go tumbling down against the wall of the trench.]

[millimeter]

[It reminds him of fighting alongside the guys, working his ass off to keep up, but any pang of nostalgia—it's only been two weeks since he saw any of them, but so much has changed—is put on hold by the disorder around him and Rey.

Still, that little hint of something normal, something he knows how to contextualize and react to, means he gives Rey a quick thumbs up.]

Nice! [He'd snap a picture, back in Eos, but his hands are empty here.] Guess you could say he met a muddy end.

[Because it's...the end of the trench, before it forks into another set of paths. Haha. Get it?]

[garbagepilot]

[Terrible as that is, the joke makes her laugh all the same. Her sense of humor tends to run a little more morbid than that, but she's in a good mood from the fight just like the rest of the soldiers and it doesn't take much at the moment.

She's never heard a pun, either, so he gets something of a free pass.

The other soldiers seem to think it's funny too, though, because there's an outburst of laughter, some hands clapping them both on the shoulder, the back, fingers pointed at the men in the mud who look up at them with wry grins.

The tension bleeds away as the fighting breaks up and Rey curls her hand around Prompto's elbow, giving him a tug to lead him away before anyone can catch him up in a conversation.]

You did well. We make a good team.

[millimeter]

[Prompto follows her, grateful for the sense of camaraderie. It's maybe a little dumb and definitely a lot childish, but BASE was lonely. Just him and droids for the most part, in a way that sometimes reminded him uncomfortably of the Magitek facility.

Whether or not he deserves that camaraderie is another matter entirely, but he can't bring himself to entertain that thought right now.]

Yeah, we do, don't we? You've got some pretty slick moves.

[He makes a hand motion to go with it, like oh so smooth. The way he talks is...acutely unlike the actual soldiers here.]

[garbagepilot]

[His enthusiasm reminds her of Finn and he's lucky, lucky that she's had time to adjust to being with other people and enjoying their company. Finn and Han and Chewie did the work of getting her to open up and be kind, and Prompto benefits from it now because she's still smiling at him, following the movements of his hand with another very soft laugh.

Just like Poe, she likes Prompto pretty much at first sight. It's been oddly common with a lot of the others, and it's a new trend that Rey can't help being happy about. She's been lonely too long.]

I'm Rey.

[And it sounds enough like Ray to keep the illusion up.

BUT WAIT, she's got this, hang on-]

You got some- slick moves, too.

[Nailed it.]

[millimeter]

[The fact he's gotten her to laugh, especially more than once, reassures him. It reassures him a lot, enough that he's comfortable grinning back in a way that isn't fabricated.]

Pr— [a beat, as he remembers he's supposed to be using an alias] —I mean, Kenny.

[He'll get better at this soon...

He puts up a fist.

(Or not. Yes...he's trying to fistbump someone in 1916.)]

You new, too?

[garbagepilot]

Oh. Rey Starling. [It's all good Prompto you're not the only one who fails at this.] I didn't come up with that, though. This is my first mission.

[The fist being offered is... odd, though, and if it weren't so hard to call on the Force here she might have brushed through his head to see exactly what the point there is.

Except she wouldn't have, because she's not a monster like Kylo Ren. Instead she just looks at his hand and then does the only thing that makes any sense. Reaching out, she curls her hand around his fist and shakes it.

Because that's... probably close. Sure.]

[millimeter]

Uh.

[Clearly not the response he was expecting. But he's quick to motion her closer and reach for her wrist. Mission talk can wait!]

Here, make a fist. [He holds up his other hand in example.]

[garbagepilot]

[She's frowning faintly when he takes her wrist in his hand, but she lets him pull her in and does as he says, hand curling into a fist while she looks between that and up at him.

But she waits for him to go on, doubtful and confused as she is. This is your chance Prompto don't blow it.]

[millimeter]

[Wow, no pressure!]

Alright! It's a little more liiike— [and he raises both of their hands] —this!

[And he taps their fists together triumphantly.]

[garbagepilot]

[Oh.

Well, now that she's seen it in action it makes a little more sense and he gets another little smile out of her, charmed and amused.]

Is this how you say hello where you're from?

[millimeter]

Something like that.

[His own smile is a little crooked.]

You can use it other times, too, like when you gotta give someone props. So I guess that was a multi-purpose fist bump, as a greeting and a ringing endorsement.

[A beat and then he adds, with a real note of sincerity:]

Thanks. For—helping me back there.

[garbagepilot]

You would have been okay, you just needed a little help getting started.

[And she's not the type to sugar coat things, so if she's saying it she must mean it. He'd moved in that fight like it was something he was used to, like maybe he was missing the weapon he might usually have but that he'd at least been in the situation before.]

That's been happening a lot, though, so you'll want to be on your guard.

[millimeter]

[He nods, more somber.]

Yeah. Be pretty embarrassing to get KO'd that way.

[...Ok, maybe only a little more somber. He toys with the bandana wrapped around his right wrist, fixing the knot, before he admits:]

I'm not really the brawling type. More of a sharpshooter. [He holds up a hand, pointer finger extended, and mimes a bang, like it wasn't obvious already.]

[garbagepilot]

[Finger guns isn't exactly somber at all, but just like the fist bump it makes Rey smile and this time, he gets a little huff of a laugh out of her.

That's like three in one day, it's got to be some kind of record.]

I'm terrible with guns. I mostly used a staff before coming here, and then a- sort of sword.

[It's a laser sword but even she's aware that doesn't make a lot of sense when it seems like most everyone is pretty far behind her, technology-wise.]

You must be very good if a gun is your go to.

[millimeter]

Only weapon I'm really any good with.

[Which...overlooks the fact he's kind of folding every kind of firearm into that category because video games, eyyy. What can you do.]

Swords and staffs are sooo far outside my expertise, dude. I can barely pick up the big ones. Guess that's what I get for skipping arm day.

[He is the absolute worst at using period-appropriate slang.]

last jedi spoilers again oops

[garbagepilot]

You should take up climbing, it's good for building those muscles.

[And she's been trying here, honestly trying to access the parts of herself that she thinks she's going to need now that she's the only person even remotely like a Jedi in her world. There's Leia, of course, but the fate of the Jedi order itself rests on her learning to teach other people how to control their powers.

It's why she took the tomes from the island, why she saved them so Luke wouldn't be able to do anything drastic. They're hers now, locked safely on the Falcon and out of reach here, but if she has to learn how to train people it can't hurt to try to figure it out now.]

I could teach you.

[millimeter]

[The look Prompto gives her is like a deer in headlights.]

Um. [He suddenly has a vivid recollection of embarrassing himself in front of Cor Leonis. Several times.] Fair warning, I'm really bad?

[Things Prompto doesn't realize: he could be so much worse.]

[garbagepilot]

The first time I tried to shoot at someone I forgot the safety was on, and then when I did manage to fire I missed. Everything comes with a learning curve.

[She should probably practice being supportive and encouraging more though, so after a second she reaches a hand out and grasps his elbow lightly.]

I'm sure you'll be better than you think.

[millimeter]

[The encouragement surprises him, but then that surprise splits into a smile.]

Guess we'll find out.

[Rey's practice attempt was a resounding success.]

And if you ever need any help with firearms, I got your back.

[garbagepilot]

[That's exactly the right thing to say, and it shows in her quick, pleased smile.]

We can call it a trade. [That'll ease her into the whole offering things and getting nothing in return thing. It won't sit right to give things freely for awhile after a lifetime of having to fight to keep what's hers, after all.] Do you want to start now? We can probably find some sticks and I'm really not good at standing around waiting for things to happen.