THERE WERE MASTERS AND SERVANTS,

[agogemod]

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Prepare for the historic Battle of Valmy.
WHEN? Mid September 1792, France.
ANYTHING ELSE? Violence, as always. Please warn in subject lines for anything beyond physical violence, and move to a personal journal if things go beyond PG-13.

IT'LL BE FINE;

between sainte-menehould and valmy,
1792: revolutionary france.

read the valmy setting infopage

DEPARTING JERUSALEM

The clean up of the battle is slog. A full day of piling together corpses. Noting down famous men and women. In the heat, the bodies bloat and become fetid, and the smell builds until it cannot be ignored. Insects swarm, and vultures blot out the sun, swooping down and taking back what's been left for nature. Stragglers and the poor pick through the field for scattered weapons and valuables to collect. The bodies of important men and women are taken for burial; the rest are left for scavengers, animal or human.

It's in this gruesome scene that the order comes:

PACK UP, GET READY TO MOVE OUT. THE TARGETS HAVE BEEN NEAUTRALIZED. WE MAKE OUR DEPARTURE LOCAL TIME, DAWN.

DEPLOYMENT: VALMY, FRANCE. IT'S GOING TO BE A WET ONE. WE ARE EXPECTING MORE TRANSFERS ON ARRIVAL.

The present COST soldiers that have been in strict cover begin finishing their work, if they've decided to help the army move out, tend to the wounded, or clean up after the dead. There is no sign of the Commander yet, but maybe you recognise some of your fellow operatives. They seem be taking advantage of a particular event that maybe you stopped to see, maybe you didn't.

Saladin beheads Reynald de Chattilion and his words fill the camp as much as the news of their next move.

A king does not kill a king, Saladin says to King Guy, and the orders run like wildfire through the camp: next they take Jerusalem, and it's in this march, that when the rest of the army moves on that COST slips away. A order to fall back in steady increments; when the time comes, Saladin's army is out of sight, marching toward Jerusalem.

In the midst of all of this, COST operatives begin to disappear, here one moment and gone in another. Such a strange sight, more than one native soldier muses, must be the fault of heat exhaustion.

The Time-Step

The transfer begins, and it starts like a vibrating heat on the collar bone, not painful, not to start with. Just a hum of sensation. But the vibration spreads. Veteran COST soldiers often refer to this phenomena as 'the buzz'. The sensation builds, feeling not unlike standing near a great engine, or the wind rattling the branches of a great tree. There is long a moment of motion sickness, and one cannot always be sure if it is you that is shaking from the inside out, or the world that is shaking you from the outside in. It may just be better to close your eyes against the growing nausea as the world blurs out of focus. A star shines in the distance. You may hear the faint rustling of leaves. Some swear they hear voices in this moment, indistinct words echoing off nothingness. Some swear they feel a touch of the divine. One thing is for sure: One moment you are here, and the next, you are not.

The soldier next to you might not have been so clever, when it stops and you find yourself standing in the green fields of France, September 1792. She or he throws up as the vibration fades. Everyone seems to stumble sideways for a second. The world turns, and then rights itself. The heat is gone, replaced with cold and wet.



ARRIVAL FOR TRANSFERS FROM JERUSALEM

It's raining.

You're inside of a tent, (another one), and it already seems to be bustling with movements, they call to you in French, which you understand if you did not already: hurry now, they say, you need out of that cuircass before they're spotted. The rest of the army will be following, and the Prussian army to meet it. There isn't much time to loiter around getting sick in this weather. You have a kit to pick up, and perhaps training to do.

ARRIVAL FOR NEW RECRUITS

The first thing you'll notice is the sound of rain. You awake in a tent that seems to be sheltering against the ruins of a farm house, and everything feels damp. It's a wet September morning in 1792, and when the woman across from you in the tent speaks, you understand it to be French. If you didn't understand French already, you sure do now.

If you ask, she'll explain: you are fighting for France, as the Prussian army intends to invade and sack Paris. You may be a citizen, you may be a soldier; you have risen up in defense of France all the same.

She asks you what role you wish to play in the coming battle, and provides you with clothes and supplies to suit. She won't let you leave until you can pass for a native of France, setting up camp in the rain pouring down between Sainte-Menehould and Valmy.

MISSION OBJECTIVE

The forces of COST have gotten word that Regency operatives have gone to Revolutionary France, intending to turn the tides in one of the most historically important battles in European history. The Battle of Valmy, which decided the entirety of the French Revolution and all that follows it, must be won by the French army, as it was in history.

Unlike the incident in Jerusalem-- you may remember it, you may not-- COST has managed to get here before the day of the battle. Make no mistake; it's coming soon. But this time, you and your fellow travelers have time to prepare.

The French Army has managed to get ahead as well; they've maneuvered around the Prussians, cutting off their supply lines. You and your fellow soldiers are now chasing the invaders as they head for Paris. This is time to prepare and ready your forces. The fight is coming soon.



STAY DRY, STAY SECURE

A few things are strongly remembered about the Battle of Valmy; one of them is the rain. It's really pouring out here, and you're in the thick of it. Rain is a dangerous thing for an army such as this; during this era of warfare, gunpowder was an essential commodity, and wet gunpowder is useless gunpowder. Secure the supplies, rescue supply carriages from muddy sinkholes, steer the horses, check supplies, and try to keep the essential materials for victory dry.

TRAIN UP

General Kellerman and Dumouriez are training peasants in basic military tactics. While veterans make up the core of this army, there are a substantial amount of peasants, and most here have never seen battle in their lives, or ever held a gun. Many are equipped with only rudimentary farming equipment. Help train or be trained so you're ready when the Prussian army arrives.

MEDICAL

Plenty of people need medical attention, not from battle wounds so much as malnutrition and overwork. These are mostly peasant laborers, and they're not entirely fit for battle. Help people get as rested and ready as possible.

ESPIONAGE

We have reason to believe some of the 'peasants' are actually Regency spies. Root them out by seeing keeping an ear to the ground for suspicious activity. They don't know all the words to La Marseillaise? Off with their head! Be careful not to attack time travellers on your side, though!

MORALE

Keep spirits high! Sing, dance, and generally try to keep people from succumbing to fear. Despite the rain and the mud, despite the seemingly impossible odds, the average soldier is full of excitement for battle, ready to fight to the death to defend their freedom.

SUPPLY AND SEEK

Since the French army is behind the invading force, they've cut off the enemy's supply lines. This means that, should the Prussians become encamped here for any amount of time, they won't be able to send for food and munitions from their home country. It's your job to make sure it stays that way. You may see someone riding on a swift horse in a Prussian uniform, attempting to sneak through French lines and try to get word back to mother Prussia. Chase them down, and make sure they can't get their reports back home so a second force isn't sent-- or worse.

BE A COMMUNITY ORGANIZER

This battle is one that's widely known for its popular support-- for the most part, France unites against this invading force with alarming cohesion. Someone gifted with a clever mind, or perhaps a clever tongue, may be able to use that. The French army passes farms and peasant villages along the way-- make rousing speeches, and try to recruit more to the cause, secure donations of food and weaponry, anything you can get.

read the valmy setting infopage

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC PLURK DISCORD

Comments

Yoshitsugu Ōtani | OTA

[hakanai]

a. WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS

There are many reasons to feel a little... uncomfortable after this latest transition.

The lack of a facecloth is a very immediate one. Yoshitsugu is standing outside under a small cluster of trees, clad in the gear of a civilian of the current time period. It's a mishmash of clothing topped with what he was told is a 'phrygian cap,' which he's pulled down enough to ensure his eyebrows are covered, but he can't hide any part of his face if he's to avoid looking suspicious. Now, usually he doesn't mind being perceived as a suspicious sort, but here... well, it's not an option.

Water drips onto Yoshitsugu's face. Tree cover is far from perfect, after all. He blinks and stares up, touching a finger to his exposed chin as he does so, and hums thoughtfully. A completely unfamiliar land, a time period ahead of his own and a climate so different to the one he just left?

"I'm definitely going to get sick," he says, technically into the air but from an outside perspective to the person who passes by. Water drips down his forehead as he drops his head to smile a little at them. "Let's hope it's not a fatal illness."



b. PURELY MEDICAL

One skill Yoshitsugu had learned when he was younger was that of giving a good massage. Whenever Takatora had been healing up it had helped the healing process to give him ones in the right area; other squad-mates had benefited too.

Years have passed since then, and perhaps the skill is a little rusty, but so far nobody in the medical area has complained. Most of the poorer people here who need help are suffering from the aches of overwork and a good massage can help sore muscles considerably. Some had been suspicious of him when he'd made the suggestion but every trial he's given someone has worked out well.

...okay, some have yelped when Yoshitsugu pressed too hard, but it had all been for good reason.

"I told you I wasn't going to rip them out," he says, sending his latest satisfied patient away before turning his sharp gaze to the nearest soldier or civilian. "You? Muscle aches or do I need to send you elsewhere in the tent?"



c. WILDCARD

[Anything else you want him involved in? I'm up for most things, just drop a prompt here or PM me if you're unsure. ♥]

a;

[handtowels]

It's jarring to see Yoshitsugu's face bare; every time Takatora catches sight of his friend he has to fight the instinctive urge to stare or look away. Like everyone he's wet, but he rarely ever falls sick, so he's not worried — not about his own health, that is.

"Don't even joke about that," Takatora sighs as he approaches Yoshitsugu.

Reaching out, he grabs Yoshitsugu's wrist and tugs insistently.

"Come on. I'm getting you a space in the hayloft."

[hakanai]

Yoshitsugu almost makes a quip about Takatora not being ready to put him in a grave, but holds it back. His friend has been rather sensitive about dark humour since their reunion as comrades under COST, especially in regards to Yoshitsugu himself; it hints at certain things.

But that's a topic that shouldn't be approached yet.

"Oh?" He lets himself be dragged along, keeping up with Takatora rather easily. Their footsteps will synchronise soon enough because, well, they always were a perfectly matched team on the battlefield and such habits never really fade. "Do you intend to throw some of the current residents out, Takatora? They probably won't appreciate it."

It's not a comment made on their behalf, but more a kind of lighter tease.

[handtowels]

"You could say that."

Takatora takes a moment to check the direction that the rain falls in, and angles them so that his larger frame shelters Yoshitsugu as much as possible as he takes them out into the open.

"Their complaints about bites were so loud that I'm surprised you didn't hear them from here. I told them that in China," he quirks a wry smile at that, "we have tricks for dealing with bugs, and that made them willing to negotiate."

Between the two of them he can kill them with frost and Yoshitsugu can warm the place again, and as long as they are discrete and employ a bit of showmanship they can conceal the truth of how they accomplish it.

[hakanai]

This is taking the protectiveness to a rather extreme level; Takatora is fortunate that Yoshitsugu chooses to spare him the teasing over that particular angle. Instead the shorter man laughs quietly and shakes his head.

"Earning space and trust. Clever."

Getting rid of bugs won't be a problem with their abilities, of course, and getting a nice warm bed amongst people who think well of them will be a good start to their mission. Back home they might have employed ninja to gather information but here it's down to each and every one of them to act as a spy, and every spy needs ears to the ground and as many connections as possible.

That probably wasn't Takatora's main aim in making his offer, of course, but it's a nice benefit anyway.

"Do we have magical tricks for filling our bellies too?"

[handtowels]

"I wish."

Takatora gives a little laugh.

"We're almost reliving our youth. Hungry, penniless, and waiting for battle."

When he looks around at these people, their palpable, driving hope reminds him of how he felt as a teenager looking to Lord Nagamasa. Peasants and soldiers marching for a dream, chasing it with all they have. It's... infectious.

It makes him want to win for them.

[hakanai]

Yoshitsugu's mouth quirks a little; drops of water run down his face and he licks one from his lips before replying. He is not a hugely nostalgic person but, well, everyone has their moments, and those days in the Azai form some of his most treasured memories despite how they had ended.

Imagine, back then, Yoshitsugu had occasionally cried! Who amongst those he had met in adulthood would believe such a thing of him?

"I remember the state of you after that first skirmish well enough." He snorts, amused. "And how young and foolish I was about it. How ridiculous, to think that you might die from something as simple as a deep arrow wound."

[handtowels]

"I think I recall tears," Takatora laughs, thinking back fondly. "Though maybe I'm mistaken."

He knows he's not, of course. It was his first major wound, and he'd been just as scared at the time. But recovering from it had made him realise that injury and pain were bearable. It's nothing to him now; he knows exactly what he can endure, physically and mentally.

"It was my first notable scar. Do you think you could pick it out among the rest these days?"

[horsepowered]

In the medical tent, Chiron had been assisting with an inventory. One had been done before, but clever tongues had added new supplies to the list, and it needed to be updated. Moreover and much, much more importantly, he personally wanted to know and understand what was being worked with in this time and place. The doctors in Jerusalem had novel techniques, things he would have never thought of doing. It was natural to conclude that this place would be the same, in it's own way.

But he had also stopped to watch Yoshitsugu's technique, once it became clear what he was doing. Rusty hands or not, they had a good understanding of the body, and it was clearly doing some good.

"It might be worth establishing a line at some point, if word spreads of your skill."

[hakanai]

Glancing over, Yoshitsugu looks the newcomer up and down just once before raising an eyebrow. His first impression is... well, impossible to tell. In truth he hasn't formed a full one yet, being very cautious about doing so in their current environments.

Spies, time-travellers and general deception all around make that a wise choice as far as he's concerned.

"If it becomes necessary." He flexes his fingers and turns his hands over. "It's a shame there's nobody better at this around here; the skill I have was honed only on sore and complaining squad-mates in my youth."

A slight and treacherously fond smile spreads across his face.

"They didn't always have good reason to ask for a massage but it shut them up. Mostly."

[horsepowered]

"If it's an entire skillset that's well practiced in your own," Chiron pauses. Time? Place? He lets the word fall away, to be filled in by his conversation partner. "I expect that here, there might not have been any time to devote to establishing a similar kind of system."

It is, of course, insane to think that an entire population was ignorant regarding curing their muscle aches. But particulars sometimes did require entire groups sitting, discussing, and then improving over a number of years. Decades even.

[hakanai]

"It's unlikely to have been completely neglected." Despite the mention of a queue nobody else has arrived yet; Yoshitsugu is going to take the break while he can, sitting down on stool he'd positioned his patients on. "But perhaps the 'art' is more explored in certain circles."

Like the richer or royal ones in the case of this country, if some of the information he's absorbed is true. Yoshitsugu begins to rub his left arm with his right hand, smile relaxing into something more neutral again.

And then he says more quietly:

"Time and country."

[horsepowered]

Chiron nods in quiet agreement as country is ammended into the discussion. Yes, that's a factor too, as country also encompasses culture. His eyes rest on the left arm that Yoshisugu has begun to rub, and he hums softly.

"Don't overwork your own hands."

[hakanai]

"It doesn't matter."

Yoshitsugu shrugs, looks up at Chiron and without any particular worry says:

"I'll fall ill before my hands get overworked. Maybe I'll get a proper break then?"

He still works at his arm, slow and steady. Being capable of lasting in battle doesn't mean he does so in brilliant condition every day; Yoshitsugu knows full well what he is and isn't capable of.

[horsepowered]

Well, now Chiron perks. Being too interested is not a good look on any kind of doctor, but the certainty in those words is...well, unusual.

Pleasantly, he keeps at his own work while asking, "What makes you so certain that you'll catch a new illness?"

a;

[acchakat]

Drogo had been passing--they had a horse, not his horse, not his red, but a horse--when he speaks. Normally, Drogo wouldn't give him a second glance. He looks pale, frail, and all it takes is a quick glance to confirm.

This war will go poorly. Most of these men will be snapped in two once fights begin. He's sure this one will, too.

"Rain cleanses." It's said as a matter of factly, Drogo unbothered by it. His braid is tucked underneath his jacket, but his bells still make noise as he moves his head to look at him better.

"If you are sick, you are not strong."

[hakanai]

There's absolutely no question whatsoever that this one is a time-traveller, be it on the side of COST or the side of their enemy. The attitude was one clue. Yoshitsugu had been here only hours but what's he learned of the people here is enough to tell him that this man's sentiment simply wasn't common at all.

The other clues? Well. Practically everything else.

"I'll be sure to tell that to the poor souls I've defeated in battle when I meet them in the afterlife." Yoshitsugu didn't look especially threatened by Drogo, though he was good in general at concealing his inner world (except when it comes to amusement, now his facecloth has been denied him; his lips were treacherous). "Getting felled by the sword or strategies of a weakling will frustrate them no end, but it will give them something to work on."

There was... worse he could have said, but Yoshitsugu didn't really want to anger this man too much. It was true that sheer physical strength wasn't something he had in great quantities, whereas what he saw before him reminded him very strongly of someone like the legendary Honda Tadakatsu in build.

Best not to antagonise someone like that too much, even if they said things that made it all too tempting to tease or insult.

[acchakat]

He is not movek, but he has skinny arms and a frail complexion, and the moment he says 'strategies' things fall into place. The only thing that's missing is a strange coloured beard of someone from Pentos. This man thinks with his mind. He's here for that reason, not his prowess on the field. Drogo wonders if he's ever been in battle.

His assumptions are just that, assumptions, but Drogo thinks in absolutes: this one is not a threat. This one is an ally.

And, though Drogo won't admit it, he doesn't quite understand what the other is saying.

"Mare's milk," he says simply. "You will grow strong."

[hakanai]

Oh, well, that's interesting. Yoshitsugu is quiet for a moment while he takes in Drogo a bit more keenly. The previous comparison to Tadakatsu was a good one in some ways; tall, muscular, strong, the man has the obvious bearing of a warrior and a confident one at that. He is very aware of his strength.

But in other ways? Not so much. Tadakatsu is not a leader. He plainly states as such and is devoted to his Lord, whereas it's hard to imagine the imposing figure stood before Yoshitsugu taking orders.

"...thank you." Yoshitsugu dips his head briefly. "I will bear that in mind."

It probably won't make him strong, but Yoshitsugu is being very careful about discounting anything since joining COST. There are always things you can call ridiculous immediately but if time travel is possible, if alteration of the flow of things is possible, what else might be? This was going to be an interesting experience, albeit a tough and no doubt draining one.

(A standard situation for a samurai in turbulent times, perhaps).

"You've won countless battles. Did any of them involve this much mud?"

An assumption of Yoshitsugu's own, but it's a pretty safe one, and the question relevant. He wants to know what his allies are capable of, what they know.

[acchakat]

His upper lip curls into a sneer at that; he has no need to hide his feelings on all of this rain. The man with skinny arms at least can recognize that Drogo is a Khal, so the horselord files him into the potential ally category. He knows strength, even if he is not physically as strong. Good.

"No," he says finally, and he glares up at the sky, as if a mean look will help the sun come out.

"Mud will trap horse." It's his way of saying he's worried about the cavalry.

[hakanai]

Ah, that's interesting. This is one who associates war and battle with horses. It's not an unreasonable link at all; before the advent of artillery and the like a good cavalry could be the greatest weapon in an army. The Takeda, after all, were famous for the quality of their horses, and nobody would discredit the legendary Takeda Shingen's use of his horseman units. Yoshitsugu even thinks that, had Shingen lived, he might have found a way to overcome the guns of the Oda Nobunaga.

But he had not, and so the Takeda cavalry had been obliterated in the mud after their foolish commander had bid them charge.

There's a lesson there in the battle to come, perhaps.

"Yes." Yoshitsugu closes his eyes, thoughtful, and runs a hand through his damp hair. "The horses will be at great risk in this battle. The mud and the guns as well... it is a dangerous combination for cavalry."

He has a few loose ideas in his head about what they can do about that, but it's going to depend on what the French commanders do and the talents of the rest of COST. At least they don't lack in military experience, hmm?

"Are you are familiar with guns? How about cannons? We will be facing plenty of them as well, which will be further risk to our horses."

a

[rappels]

The rain is at least familiar to her, even if nothing else is. That wasn't true of everywhere she travelled, but the valley at the foot of the mountain often had rain, and considering the sort of life she and Rost lived, rain rarely put them off from their day to day work. But that said, their clothes were suited for that too. She desperately misses the furs and skins she wore at home, because she'd never realized how much they were made to resist weather until wearing something like this which decidedly did not.

Aloy is holding her arms close to her chest, since the clothing she was wearing to blend in was wet and heavy now. She's not quite shivering yet, but she can feel the beginnings of a chill just from wearing this.

"No kidding," she responds neutrally, but then looks up at the sky. She stares for a moment, then sighs as she looks down again and to Yoshitsugu. "It doesn't seem like this rain is going anywhere soon. Figures we'd get stuck in rain."

[hakanai]

Yoshitsugu huffs a laugh and shrugs his shoulders.

"I hope you enjoy fighting in mud."

Growing silent for a few seconds, he looks this newcomer over, taking in the brightly coloured hair and lean build. She's no doubt fit and physically capable; most of the COST members he's met have been. Their favoured traits, perhaps? It's not a surprising thing, of course, but Yoshitsugu is trying to get a feel for what the organisation has in store for them in the future and little things like that can offer clues.

Glancing around, Yoshitsugu steps closer to the woman, cups his hands together so only they would be able to see, and summons a flame within. It's a small flicker, but resists the rain long enough to warm his fingers until he deliberately snuffs it out.

Shame he can't make a bigger one without causing problems, isn't it?

"And don't fall sick as easily as I do. Sometimes all it takes in someone sneezing nearby."

...it's an exaggeration. Mostly.

[rappels]

"Not my favorite," she responds as she looks away from the sky, but her tone lightens as it shifts to wry instead, "But, hey. I've fought in worse."

Much worse, she'd say. The Embrace wasn't exactly a utopia for perfect weather, but it's what she'd grown up with. So mud after a good rain felt comfortable compared to scorching heat of Sunfall or the bonechilling peaks of the Northern mountains. Still. This might be familiar, but it's still not really welcome.

As he steps closer, Aloy's brow knits together very lightly, but she tempers her immediate reaction to take a step back. She doesn't expect to have to restrain that urge twiceover, though. As she looks in his hands, seeing the flicker of flame that suddenly appears gets her eyes to widen in a much more open surprise.

"Well, that's—" she starts immediately, but she's ultimately unsure what to say. She has to remember not to expect things to be like how she personally knows them, but even so... "You just made that. Out of nothing."

Clearly, she's not too worried about the idea of falling sick, since the flame takes her attention much more.

[hakanai]

The corners of Yoshitsugu's mouth turn, not quite a smile yet but enough to show humour. It's been interesting engaging with folk from lands in which magic is, apparently, completely unknown or non-existent. His abilities will probably be extremely useful in many of the battles they fight if they are against people with that same lack of knowledge.

What else lies out there? If there are places with a lack of magic (or awareness of it), are there places with magic beyond his scope? It's an oddly intriguing thought.

"Yes."

He cups his hand again, glances around to make sure again that nobody can see what he's about to do, and creates within him palm a small, glimmering 'insect.' It's the illusion of a dragonfly, entirely purple and glowing softly, which flutters its wings once or twice before Yoshitsugu lets it fade away.

"Simple tricks, but even a simple thing can be useful. A tiny flame to warm one's hands, for example."