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

ashitaka | ota!

[lonelywar]

I. there was seed for the field, there was grease for the wheel
[Rain fell unevenly, sometimes in messy downpours which lasted until they slacked off into mist for a time before renewing their attack. He was used to the elements, but he longed for his own clothing. The grass cloak had kept most rainwater off, and his clothing had not weighed him down when damp. This strange garb—that which he had been told was that of a French citizen—felt cumbersome enough that he worried for how he might be able to move, should the necessity arise. That thought brought with it an even more bitter one. He had no weapons from home, only a crude blade and what he had been told was a hunting rifle. He would prefer not to use either, but the thought of handling the latter was the most daunting of all.

The steady march of the army was by no means silent. Clamor and clatter of wagons and armaments, interspersed fragments of conversation and brief flights of song, the wet slog of feet and hooves and wheels through, all underscored by the omnipresent rain. All of this noise had faded into a hum of difficult travel for Ashitaka as he marched, however, and was almost lulling in a way until it was broken by some harsh shouting nearby, accompanied by the sound of distressed horses. He moves without thinking to see what happened, coming across a large wagon that had run slightly off the road to where it sunk into mud deep enough to swamp the wheels by nearly half of their height. The horses, nearly immobilized by the mud and the weight of their trapped burden, were struggling and beginning to grow panicked, causing several people to approach to try to calm them. Men were shouting, already trying to organize an effort to free it. Damn fools, hurry! It's full of gunpowder! We can't allow it to get ruined!

They were beginning to recruit help from others passing by, but Ashitaka needed no further provoking. He begins to walk towards the stuck wagon, glancing to his side to someone else who had slowed to watch the misfortune.] Come on. [A goad, but a fairly gentle one.] We should help them.

[They were meant to blend in, after all.]

II. every mouth sings of what it's without
[Attempting to move the army through the rain and mud without the aid of the sun was too much of a risk, so the army's movement slowed to a halt as dusk began to fall. Having never been a part of an army, only skirting their fringes, the coordination and seeming single-mindedness of such a massive force was impressive to watch. Tents began to crop up across the expanse of people, horses, and cargo, each person doing whatever they could to get themselves out of the rain. Tents were still mysterious to him, being far more used to finding places to sleep in the elements. He ends up beneath an admittedly scraggly tree, facing a new challenge: the food.

Bread was strange to him. Stranger still was the concept of any meal that did not use rice as its sole staple. The small portion of vegetables at least had some semblance of familiarity, at the very least resembling things he had seen before. The strange, dark, hot drink he was given was perhaps the worst of it, though. One small sip had proved it to be nothing but ceaselessly bitter. He set it aside, wondering why one would subject themselves to something like that.

Ashitaka looks up from his heel of bread when he hears some agitated conversation. It's from a short distance away where a few men, headed up by one particularly red-faced individual, argue with someone in uniform.] My brothers and I, we were the ones that hunted these birds. [Glancing past the man in uniform, he notices several others carrying away a number of game fowl.] We should be given at least one or two. Otherwise, it is us going hungry while the officers eat like a king! [He spits at this. The soldier stammers into a response, though they were both clearly growing heated.

Ashitaka watches, though he has a bad feeling about it. He stands, moving to where some people were watching.] It would not do well for a fight to break out. [He says it generally, though he has a natural impetus to intervene and try to diffuse the situation.]

III. a fine weapon to rule the world
[It wasn't that Ashitaka held the rifle with inexperience. Well, not just that, anyway—he had certainly never used one before, so it certainly looked awkward in his hands. No, the bigger issue seemed to be that the young man regarded the weapon with what looked like outward scorn, as if it were something that would sooner burn his hands than perform its function.

He's been instructed how to use it. His stance is passable, and he stands steady despite the pronounced frown on his face. The makeshift target was prepared. Closer inspection would show that the weapon was shaking in his hands, though it was strange. His left hand was perfectly still, trying to keep the weapon steady, but the right had an odd tremor to it. Closer inspection would also prove that look of consternation on his face almost seemed pained. Regardless, his inaction was growing apparent and was beginning to attract some harsh looks from watching instructors.]

IV. wildcard!
[Whatever works! Feel free to chat me up if you have questions or ideas.]

note: I will switch to prose if you reply with it, I mostly used this format to shrink the tldr.

III.

[trample]

Are you gonna use that thing?

[ It's with little trepidation that Eren pops into the shaky fellow's personal space. At arms' length away, it's so blatantly obvious that there's something keeping this guy from fighting that makes Eren want to just put his hand on the gun and lower it for him. In the end, that's exactly what he does. ]

You look like a big softy. [ He sighs. ] You'd be better off baking bread than making someone else dead. I'm telling this to you for your own sake, screw the weapons training, find something that works for you. Something that doesn't make you shake in your boots. If you're gonna be flaking out at this stage, there's no way in hell you're gonna be able to fire at another man.

[lonelywar]

[Yes, there is something keeping Ashitaka from being able to pull the trigger. But it is not what one might think.

The talisman that he had found on his person seemed to be linked to the mark in some way, keeping it at bay so that it spread no further. Otherwise, Ashitaka would have died in Jerusalem. It seemed to dull the pain that it had caused almost constantly, though there were occasions that spurred it into a spiteful rage once more. To hold a firearm, the same type of weapon that had lodged within Nago an iron bullet that had shattered him and poisoned him into a demon, nearly put it into a riot. Ashitaka's right arm shook because he was doing his best to keep it in check, nervous of some scene that might draw the native people's attention to him.

The stranger taking notice and intervening was a mixed blessing. It allowed the instructors to turn their attention elsewhere, seeing that addressing this failure of a civilian recruit was at least underway, but he did have to subject himself to the other young man's admonishments. Ashitaka is not a prideful person; there was little pride to be had for a cursed man, exiled from his clan. If he were to take pride in anything, it would certainly not be the times he had been forced to take the lives of others. But this other recruit had the wrong idea of him.

He is silent, shouldering the words and taking a moment to set the rifle down. He clasps his left hand onto his right forearm, bidding the mark to calm. Despite his best efforts, his fingers emerging from the linen wrap he had used to hide the mark spasm slightly as the mark yearns—to shatter the rifle like those bones that had been broken, or to take it and use it to kill the woman Eboshi, wherever it would find her. Its pressing impulse for violence made it difficult to formulate a response. It did start to calm, however, and when it did, Ashitaka looked up to the other recruit with eyes sharp enough to cut through whatever preconceptions he might have formed.]

You're right. [It was an answer that even surprised him a little, though he knew it was true.] I'm not sure I will be able to use this weapon.

[He wasn't helpless, of course; he could defend himself, perhaps better than he would like. But it seemed foolish to champion his own martial skill when he was so loath to use it in the first place.]

But we are not here to bake, are we?

[trample]

[ It's that killer look that sends Eren's foot behind the other fellow's ankle to initiate a takedown -- well, that's where it would have been, if he still had it. Instead, only the tied end of his pant leg whiffed the trainee's thigh, and that was hardly anything to take notice of. The intensity with which Eren was ready to disarm the guy completely petered out as he let his head fall forward with a sigh. ]

We aren't. I sure wish we were, though. Maybe I could learn something new. [ With all the determination it would take to shoot himself in the foot, he released his grip on the gun. ] Muskets like this are ass, anyway. Wait until the late 19th century if you want to see something fancy.

[ There wasn't a France in his world, but there was something about the geography of this Earth that matched up with that of his own. Like, if you took a map and flipped it around a couple of times. He figures the timeline'll eventually match up as well, which is why he can say in full confidence it'll only take up until then for these crappy, one-shot muskets to be replaced with machine guns that fire cartridges instead of balls. ]

To think I once considered these the pinnacle of firearms technology. [ He scoffed before taking a turn and stepping away. It was an awkward sort of motion, what with a crutch and all. He really ought to have got himself a peg leg by now, if only to make maneuvering around camp quicker. ] If you really do plan on fighting, you've got enough time to figure out something that works for you. Have any ideas?

[lonelywar]

[The hint of movement immediately elicits a response from Ashitaka; he shifts his weight slightly towards the side opposite, energy wary but currently inert. It remains that way. He notices then that the other recruit wouldn't have had the ability to assault him in the way he'd intended regardless. Missing the limb? He doesn't allow himself to change his preconceptions. Even the lepers had been able to build and fire those rifles. He sets Eren back in his sharp gaze.

Talk of centuries made little sense to Ashitaka, as such concepts of time weren't something he would have known in his secluded village. Whether it was near or far in the future, however, the news was harrowing; it wrote itself all over the young man's face, a soft sort of dismay. He looks away, grip tightening on his forearm again. He should have known that the kasou and the rifles would only be the beginning. Once you invented a weapon to rule the world, you did not return to the barbaric tools of ancient war.]

It's disheartening to hear more terrible weapons than this would be conceived. [It's all he can say. It's all he can think. Why were the hearts of men such fertile ground for hatred and loathing? What allowed them the callousness and distance it required to cut someone down in such a cruel way?

He chides himself. He hasn't done any better. Despite his best efforts, there was plenty of blood on his own hands, and of gods and men.]

I always hope for a peaceful resolution, and I will try to look for one. [It seemed hopeless, but it was his task, his curse. He looks pensive a moment and continues.] The last battlefield was better, as at least they could provide me a bow. Here... [He releases his forearm and reaches past the fold of his jacket, retrieving something he'd had secured at his waist: called a "billhook," it was little more than a handle attached to a cruelly hooked piece of sharpened metal.]

I can use this. [He admits it grimly.] If I must.

[trample]

[ What a stiff guy. Eren wonders for a while if this is how he came off as a recruit. Far too serious for his own good -- he's even showing off his weaponry like he's ready to use it. And he's not just some kid messing around, he knows when and where to use it. Then again, it wasn't particularly a bad thing. Every war needed their heroes, and only those who had that kind of fortitude could make any difference. In a way, Eren respected this recruit. He was well spoken and just optimistic enough to not come off as childish. In other words, more of an adult than Eren was used to seeing from guys his age. ]

If you must. Just do what you have to. It's all you can do.

[ He thinks back to the boy cadet he had confided in so many times before being brought to this group. Whatever he was up to now, as much as Eren wished he could take his mind off of it, was concerning. A look of submission comes over him before finding something else to take his mind off of it all. ]

You've got good sense about you. It's a strange thing -- the government will spend taxpayer money on weaponry to keep the citizenry in line. They'll pay mechanics to create tools to murder others more humanely. It's a farce. That's the way things are.

[ Is it really how they have to be? Eren keeps himself from saying more, lest he drag himself down into darker pits of his own mind. This wasn't the sort of thing he should be talking about to someone he just met. ]

Ugh. [ He shook his head. ] Look, don't sweat it for now. When the time comes, it'll be over before you know it. Keep your head down and back against a wall. If it's peace you're looking for, that'll have to come after the battle's over.

[lonelywar]

[Yeah, he really needs to lighten up, but unfortunately this is just how he is.

It wasn't who he had always been. Surely, when his life was still tied to his village and his people, he might have had more opportunity for levity—as much as they could afford, being a dying people hidden away for fear of subjugation or being put to the sword. He had had a very specific trajectory of his life set before him, and the wild wave that was Nago crashing through the woods towards the village had irrevocably changed it. Who he was then, what he had promised and planned to do, all of it was dust in the wind now. Now he was a man with a curse, every breath on borrowed time, and even though his mortality was seemingly preserved by COST, he couldn't get it out of his head that he should still do here what he had been doing back there.

And that had been doing "what he had had to do," even if it had bloodied his hands and gotten him shot through the chest. He had no regrets, though he wonders if he can manage to still be so self-assured here.

His jaw sets, and he thinks of the samurai who had brought war to Irontown and the people there that had happily obliged. He certainly knew that they thought highly of the firearms, that they were simple and powerful weapons that anyone could use to kill, not requiring the same type of strength and training a sword or bow might. That they might one day become so powerful that they would be considered humane. Disgust is written clearly across his face. It almost makes him feel as though it wasn't worth it.

No. He couldn't think like that. He shakes his head.]

That is no excuse. ["That's just the way things are." His jaw sets again.

This man's outlook is strange to Ashitaka. Flippant almost, though not out of apathy so much as awareness. Jaded, perhaps? He could be wrong. It causes a sinking in his stomach, and he hopes fervently that he never arrives to the same perspective.] I have seen battle before, even if it was from a different time. [He suspects most things don't change.

He is silent a moment longer before continuing, tone heavy,] It seems counter-intuitive that peace can only be welcomed after a violent watershed. No one seems to be looking for alternatives. Surely we can try to find another way to subvert this conflict.

[trample]

[ Ashitaka would be correct -- it was anything but apathy. It was because he was so desperate to not be apathetic that he became like this. A younger him would have struck himself in the jaw for thinking anything close to that. What Eren would have given to have that innocence back. But, like his passion, that was long lost. All that remained was a lingering sense of right and wrong. ]

You're a good kid. [ That's likely about the same age as him, but you didn't hear that from anyone. ] I envy you your optimism. Alternative methods...well, you hardly ever hear about something like that on the day right before a battle. Everyone's already given themselves up to the cause.

[ He says everyone. What he means is "most." Out of all these soldiers, a few would retain their ideals like the one in front of him, and fewer still would be able to enact them. He was once one of them. Now he was just a bystander to the gambles of greater men. There was little he could do but offer a few words of his wisdom. But at the same time, that small opportunity was something worth clinging onto. Eren saw no point to crushing his hopes further. ]

What's your name? I want to know who I'm rooting for here. Mine's Kruger.

[ A lie as natural as breathing. But the intent behind it was real. Eren wanted to spur him on. Who knows, maybe he'll succeed. You'll never know until it happens. ]

ii.

[thingpuncher]

[Midnighter's been watching the fight as well. He doesn't really need to eat-- he had some food in Jerusalem, so he should be fine for another few weeks-- but the warmth of the fire and his own curiosity at how these people act when they've no duty to accomplish, when they're just living their normal lives during wartime.]

[It's fascinating.]

[That said, his first impulse isn't to stop the fight; in fact, it's so far from his mind that he doesn't quite get the boy next to him's implication.] Probably, [he says, but then, more importantly,] My money's on the hunter. Outnumbered, but I bet he can take 'em.

[lonelywar]

[In this scenario, it was not too difficult to see both sides. No army could succeed without good supplies and rations, and this particular army certainly could do better for the latter for its primary forces. Ashitaka had heard that many had been asked to try to hunt for game in the nearby woods, though this was the first he had heard of how that was being distributed once it was brought back to the camp. That it would be hierarchical in some way made some sense, he supposed, but... in a way, it seemed to suggest poor leadership. Would Eboshi have eaten that much better than the porters and the women who worked the bellows? He couldn't remember. It was strange that he would think of her automatically when questioning matters of leadership, but he could not deny that she led her town with strength, even though he questioned much about her methods.

It is in Ashitaka's nature to want to intervene. Odd, since he had been told to only watch, but in watching he was supposed to find the answer in ridding himself of his curse. Even now it twinged with pain at the anger spilling from the men, verging on violent intent. It steadily galvanized him to action, though not the action it would have wanted.

The man to Ashitaka's side didn't seem so concerned, though. More interested in placing bets. He shoots him a sharp look out of the corner of his eye.] You'd bet on something like this? [He casts his serious gaze back to the continuing argument. Some of the other men that had been with the first hunter had moved past the soldier, stopping the other men in uniform from simply walking away with the few brace of fowl.] These men speak so passionately of equality, but something like this threatens to undermine that.

[thingpuncher]

Well, I'd speculate, [Midnighter clarifies with a grin. He can tell this kid doesn't think highly of his little joke, which is only invitation to push it further. He hasn't got a lot of interest in smoothing things over. They are at war, after all.]

[And... he's curious. He's always curious. He wants to see what will happen, and he wants to see what the kid will do. The fight computer runs calculations, but only based on him and combat, trajectories for fighting or throwing or catching. It doesn't predict simple human behavior, so long as it doesn't register as a threat to the computer's algorithms.]

[So he watches.] You think their brand of equality can really exist? Sounds like a fucking pipe dream to me. And that's being optimistic.

[Across the campfire, the men continue to argue.]

[lonelywar]

[There's no break in Ashitaka's dubious gaze. That was only a change in the semantics. But by this point he's at least partially aware the man is just messing with him, so he tries to focus on the slightly more pressing matters at hand.

If he had seen any one thing to convince himself of fully since leaving the Emishi, it was that the world was ruled by conflicts, fueled by the unrest in men's hearts. They could be as small as disputes like this or as large as the war that they had been sent here to wage. Ashitaka did not, however, think that any one was more important than another; each presented a problem he felt compelled to solve.

As the man speaks up again, the altercation grows a little more intense. One of the other hunters steps closer to one of the soldiers, arguing loudly now as the original tow continue to exchange verbal blows. The energy was putting him more and more on edge.]

I'm not sure. [He didn't know. If there was another thing he had become assured of since leaving his village, it was that there was precious little he understood of the world. He had never been offered the time to be awed and excited by that wealth of new experiences, too aware of the curse slowly infringing on his mortal vitality.] But they believe in it, and that is more important. Just as I think it is that they continue to believe in it.

[For men could do terrible things to one another when they thought of their fellow man as anything else than equal to them.]

[thingpuncher]

Yeah, yeah. I get you. It doesn't matter what the odds are. If you don't work for it, it'll always be impossible. [If he sounds like he's quoting someone, he is. It's not a quotation he expects anyone else to catch, though, because when Andrew said it, Midnighter was the only other person in the room.]

[Midnighter sighs, shrugs, and stands, looking down at the kid on the log for backup. The expression he gives says he's going to do something about it, he better have backup.]

[He puts two fingers to his lips and gives a long, low whistle.] Brothers! [Calling someone your frère around here always got an argument to go a little farther, Midnighter had noticed.] If my fellow citizen and I, [He gestures to the kid, regardless of whether he got up or not,] could get you more food for tonight, would that calm you the hell down?

[Yeah, diplomacy isn't his skill.]

[lonelywar]

[From what he has seen, he has to doubt that it is possible. The doubt is not a welcome thing—it is a gnawing rot in the core of his heart, but it was unshakable. He could not turn his back on humanity as San seemed committed to doing, for he had grown up among them and knew that, despite their propensity towards strife, there was good within them. But it was that selfsame simultaneous weakness of theirs that made him lose what optimism and idealism he might've once had, knowing that each and every person had their own demons to do battle with.

But there was always the possibility they might fight and win.

Ashitaka nods; he recognizes that the words have some wisdom, though they don't sound familiar. He wasn't expecting the whistle, though, and glances to his companion with light shock impressed on his face as the attention of the quarreling men. He exemplifies his best deer in headlights impression as Midnighter continues, though he tries to minimize it as best he can, wanting to appear a confident, unified front. He has only a moment to consider the situation, feeling the weight of so much attention settle uncomfortably across his shoulders. Then he speaks up as well.] The efforts of both the hunters and the officers need not go unrewarded. We can assure that.

[Both parties seem to weigh the proposal. It's the soldier that finally seems to find his backbone, putting his foot down. He turns to the hunter with an air of finality.] These birds will be taken, as they were meant to be. But if these two speak true and bring something back from the forest, it will be yours to keep. This is the last compromise I will offer to you.

[The look on the citizen's face was venomous, but he eventually gave a begrudging nod.] Fine. [The soldiers extricate themselves from the conflict with the hunters, moving away with the brace of wildfowl. Soon Ashitaka and Midnighter are left with the crowd of rough-looking men, set in their dark gazes.] You'd do well not to leave us empty-handed, brothers. [The lead man puts a dangerous emphasis on the last word.] We will be here. So, go.

[They begin to settle into a makeshift camp nearby, and Ashitaka turns to Midnighter. He looks a little pale, but... he feels happier to have a concrete task now rather than a nebulous problem before him.]

If we can make it into the woods, I am sure I can find a game trail. [His bigger issue is not having much ability to bring anything down. The mark still rebelled too much from the touch of the firearms for him to use them effectively.]

[thingpuncher]

[Midnighter's just pleased to see the whole thing hold together. Sure, he's tempted to flip the guys off as he goes-- great attitude for somebody offering to help your whiny assess-- but he's not sure they've even invented the middle finger yet. He keeps walking.]

Good. Was hoping you were some kind of hunter.

[The computer doesn't really do predictions like that, after all, so he was working on vain hope. Worst comes to worse, this guy wouldn't know shit about shit, and Midnighter would just have to rely on superior senses of hearing, sight and smell to find a target. It would be doable, just a pain in the ass.]

[The fact that this kid knows what he's doing, even a little, is a great fucking sign.]

[Hunter at his side, Midnighter walks on through the line of trees to a quiet forest-- the wild animals that live within have heard the army nearby, and are doing their utmost to steer clear. They'll have to go a little way before they find anything living. Midnighter walks over brambles and clears low-hanging branches from their path.] You got a name, kid?

III;

[hakanai]

[Yoshitsugu grew up in the era of Japan when guns had first started to be used in combat. He'd been a younger teenager, barely settled into the lowest ranks of the Azai army, when reports of the Battle of Nagashino had reached his ears.]

[Now, firearms had been used in war before, but not in the way Oda Nobunaga had utilised them. The Demon King had wooden stockades set up and had his gunmen ensure a constant stream of gunfire by ensuring a man was reloading only when the man in front or behind him was shooting. With no let-up and no easy way to flank the mighty cavalry of his enemy, the Takeda, had been destroyed. The word 'bloodbath' was whispered in relation to that battle. Yoshitsugu was a practical man and understood war, understood necessary sacrifices, but even he had found the mental images rather unsettling.]

['Guns were the future of warfare.' He'd been certain of it then, and seeing guns in this time ahead of his own proved him right.]

You are aiming at an inanimate object. [Yoshitsugu walks up, having put the gun he'd been using away. He speaks quietly enough that only the two of them can be heard, but touches the other man's weapon as if he was offering advice. And he is, in a way, though it's rather to the point.] Shoot it now or walk away rather than wasting time focused on your hatred of the thing. You aren't binding yourself to its use either way.

[lonelywar]

[His first experience with the firearms beginning to grow more widespread throughout Japan had been with its cruel symptoms. There was no stronger or better way to kill a god, for even if the bullet didn't end its life, it would parasitically drain its life away until the choice existed only between death and existence as a demon. Nago, prideful and furious, had chosen the latter route, traveling eastward to where he had by chance come across Ashitaka and his village. So many aspects of it seemed so random, so minimal in chance, and yet now the mark rest coiled around his chest, ready to rob him of his own life. To Ashitaka, that was what warfare was—cruel, random chance which took so liberally of life. To him, that was what firearms represented as well.

His knowledge of his own country was still small, limited only to the reclusive village he had grown up in and could no longer return to and the line of countryside he had traveled westward, to where the people of Irontown waged war with both the gods themselves and samurai armies to maintain their economic strength. With the rifles they'd had at their disposal, they seemed capable of both.

It was truly a weapon to rule the world, as Eboshi had said. It shook in his hands, the mark seething beneath his skin as he held it. The pain was distracting, enough so that he didn't notice the man's approach until he had spoke. To Ashitaka's credit, he does not react sharply, instead turning his head slightly to fix him in a sidelong glance. The way his hand shook seemed to betray fear, but there didn't seem to be fear in his eyes. This wouldn't be a surprise to him, though. He seemed to discern the root of Ashitaka's issue with the thing. In that, the calmness of his tone, he found something to respect. He weighs his words with care.

The young man looked back to the target, pausing, thinking. He did not fear the pain that shooting the weapon might cause him by way of the demon's mark, but he did fear what the use of such a weapon in the future would do to him in the long run. After a moment's consideration, he slowly lowered the weapon, expression clouded.]

I've seen weapons like these do more damage than anything should be capable of. [He has to take his right hand off of the rifle, clenching his fist to try to stymie the unrest of the mark.] Their use in this war will do nothing but further its destruction.

[Just now a bullet shot by a woman into a boar that was a god of the forest would one day bring a cursed young man to her doorstep, only to stop himself from killing her then and there. The reason he had not done so was because he had known it would not stop anything. But in a foreign land, such a small piece in the moving of nations, what was there to do? Was there anything? The powerlessness aggrieved him more than the curse.]

[hakanai]

[Yoshitsugu raises a slender eyebrow. This one has clearly been through some kind of brutal and deeply personal experience related to guns; there is emotion and history in that expression. Drawing back his hand, he considers for a moment before sliding it into his clothing and drawing out a piece of cloth.]

They are going to be used in this war. [Yoshitsugu isn't one to be soft or gentle about things; he's blunt and to the point.] That is a fact. Our thoughts on their use here will change nothing.

[He uses the cloth to wipe his face, an almost knowingly pointless attempt to dry his face; new drops rolls down his pale skin even as he tucks the damp cloth away again and sniffs. Yoshitsugu's eyes remain fixed on Ashitaka the entire time, thoughtful and calm. There is nothing accusatory or judgemental in his voice when he speaks next. It's just matter-of-fact.]

They are not all that will be used. No war relies entirely on its arms. Information, foresight and healers are needed. Good strategy. A keen eye. What do you intend to bring? Or do you intend to hide away?

[lonelywar]

[At first, seeing the weapons that could fire a pellet of metal at a high enough velocity to kill had simply solved the puzzle posed by the iron that they had found lodged within the remains of the god-turned-demon. The mark, the last echo of Nago's existence impressed into Ashitaka's body and soul, seethed, hating the weapon that had putrefied him. It had been enough to make Ashitaka wary, though now he had a shared experience of being shot. Only the steely impetus of getting San to safety had kept him moving forward as he bled out, and only the favor of the Great Forest Spirit had let him live through such a wound.

Yet the mark remained. Not all of the problems posed by his situation were so easily solved.

He is silent at Yoshitsugu's words, eyes shadowed but understanding in that darkness. He gives a single nod; he knows the truth when he hears it, and he will not turn from it.] I understand. [There is nothing to be done about it. He needs to accept this and move on.

If anything, he finds the man's continued efforts against the rain admirable. Ashitaka had long since been soaked to the skin, only lightly chilled and uncomfortable in civilian clothing he found cumbersome to move in.

The questions that he pose ring with a dreadful acuity; they had been things that Ashitaka had been wrestling with himself. He found himself at a unique crossroads. He had been a different person before the mark and the curse, and that quest had changed him into another, giving him a mortal mission to try to accomplish before his life was cut short. Here, he could be neither of these people, separate from the conflict that lie at the heart of his curse, forever separate from his home. Who was he now? What would he become if given the choice, free of strings or obligations?

He wasn't sure if he could decide something of such a magnitude so quickly.

Still.] I will not hide. [That much was certain.] I will do what I can to help. I know little of healing, and less of tactics. But I have grown used to watching conflict, and I believe I can perceive the moments where my intervention will do something.

[He is silent a moment after this, the strength and fervor behind those words fading as he thinks them over. That self-assuredness falters a moment as he adds on, quietly and with eyes averted in seeming sheepishness,] That is... vague. [But it's what he felt he had to do.]

[hakanai]

[Ah. Ah. Of course there has to be someone (besides Takatora) within COST's ranks that possesses that element of purity Yoshitsugu has always found endearing. No matter where he goes and whatever path the flow tosses him down there will be souls like this waiting to eventually make him question his personal philosophies and do really stupid things that will not work in his favour.]

[Will this one ever manage to do the same? Maybe, maybe not. COST alone is causing him to do that... ah, fate is having a lot of fun with them now. Even at its own expense.]

The ability to know when you can be useful is a rare and precious ability that every strategist treasures. [A touch of humour seeps into Yoshitsugu's expression, eyes growing half-lidded and catlike.] I shall remember that you are apparently so gifted.

[Turning around, Yoshitsugu walks a few steps away and stares out at the rest of the camp. It is busy; mud splashes everywhere as soldiers move things around, run to their next destination or pace up and down. The air thrums with an understandable tension. It's an energy that he's extremely familiar with on every level, knowing both the role of the lowest ranks and that of the highest in the war.]

Guns are not for you. We have established that. Step away from the range, look around and let's see if you can find a task that will benefit from your intervention.

[lonelywar]

[Ashitaka would not see it the same way. With his own hands he had claimed the lives of men and a god of the forest, and that they had technically thrown the first stone and refused to listen to his entreaties for peace didn't seem so relevant when the results marked him physically, spiritually, mortally. In a way, his quest was one of redemption, a search for a conclusion which would justify what he had needed to do in order to get there. His involvement with COST simply added to that, though it did pose unique challenges.

The praise was somewhat strange to receive, particularly because Ashitaka didn't expect it. In Irontown, he had expected derision for his inaction to their aid; he had certainly garnered mistrust when he had intervened in San and Eboshi's fight, carrying an enemy of the town to safety. Then he knew he had to act, and he had done so alone. That would not be viable here, not with what he knew of what was going on. So perhaps it was best he listen to those that would give him more guidance than just relying on gut instinct.

He considers this as Yoshitsugu turns and observes the camp. When addressed again, he doesn't waste time, setting the rifle down with some other materiel a short distance away and briskly returning to the man's side. He is silent a moment, eventually saying,] Thank you for your help. [His thoughts had seemed sluggish since waking up in Jerusalem, his mind so saturated with new information that it was a struggle to feel sure of anything. To rely on others to help work through such things was new to him, but he saw that it was, in a way, necessary.]

You are a strategist, then? [Battles had always seemed so chaotic; Ashitaka found it strange to think anyone could discern method from that mayhem.]

I

[rappels]

[ Ashitaka isn't the only one that's uncomfortable here, because at this point, Aloy would kill even to wear the stuffy, uncomfortable clothes that the men had over this corset and skirt. With annoyance, she's reminded of the Carja who don't consider women able to do certain things, but at least she had insisted on being a part of this march. She wasn't the only woman, but there definitely weren't many. It wasn't exactly blending in, sure, but this was something she stubbornly insisted on.

Aloy and Ashitaka aren't marching near each other, but they're both drawn by the same commotion as the wagon sinks. Aloy sighs and shakes her head as she sees it, since this—all of it—seems like more trouble than it's worth to her, but what does she know? As she's getting the impression from the native people, she's not supposed to know much. So it's probably more out of a sense of spite than actually wanting to help that it doesn't take any real convincing for her to agree. ]

Sure. They're not going to get it out on their own.

[ Aloy nods to him lightly, but she heads closer to the wagon without hesitation to take a closer look at how the wheels are stuck first of all. ]

Do you think we can just lift it?

[lonelywar]

[The subject of worth in this case was up in the air for Ashitaka as well. The wagon was filled with the breath of weapons that he had many and more reasons for mistrusting, perhaps the strongest being that he had very nearly lost his life to being shot through the chest by something similar. He would be content to see all of the powder and the rifles lost beneath an ocean of mud, but that was not what was at hand here. There was not only the battle ahead, but the overall war that COST seemed to have their eyes on. Machinations that would turn the tides in directions they should never go. He wouldn't claim to understand it all, but in a way, his hands were tied, as were all of theirs.

He wouldn't know enough of the young woman to tie her to the person he had spoken with over the network some time ago, though he knew from their transition from Jerusalem to here that she was among COST's number. He nods at her agreement, happy to have help from someone in a similar situation.

At her suggestion, he considers the wheels, frowning.] The wagon is heavy in its own right, without the pull of the mud. With numbers, we might be able to... [They would have to get the crowd pushing and pulling at it to cooperate.]

[rappels]

[ Aloy looks at the other soldiers busily trying to come up with solutions, just observing for a moment, but she ends up shaking her head as she takes a step back. ]

I get the feeling they're not going to be listening to us that easily.

[ They do seem set on finding their own solution, at least for now. Ashitaka and Aloy both look fairly young to them, so it's clear they're largely of the opinion that they won't have anything to contribute. That's fine with Aloy, though. She's glad to prove them wrong.

She nods towards the treeline nearby. It's not a thick forest by any means, but it doesn't really need to be. ]

While they argue about it, let's get things to put under the wheels. Then if that doesn't work, we'll try and pull it out.

[lonelywar]

[Ashitaka had certainly noticed that they seemed to give more weight to the words of those that were a bit older and wiser—this made sense to him, as he had always looked to the wisdom of the elders of his village as well, though that reliance had been well and truly severed once he had left. Now he saw that it was never so simple as that blind trust.

He nods.] I agree.

[Part of him knows that, if he truly tried, he might be able to at least get the cart moving out of the sinkhole. But he was loath to rely too much on the strength of the mark, and then there was the small issue of not appearing odd to those around them. He would have to make sure to measure his own strength when the time came that they tried to move it at all.

Her plan was a sound one. He had never personally experienced issues as they were dealing with, having traveled alone with only Yakul, but the wheels would need traction once they were un-stuck from the mud. Ashitaka wastes no time, starting towards the woods she had indicated; he measures his pace so that he does not outpace her.]

There might be a type of tree which might be able to use the bark from. [Thinking aloud. He hopes so, at least. The trees were somewhat different here than what he was accustomed to.]