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

76 | ota

[mylawn]

i. arrival

[76 would like to think that he’s prepared for something like this, but even with all of his years in increasingly improbable situations, the time-step is unlike anything he’s ever felt. He squeezes his eyes shut at the sensation, but it doesn’t do much against the sensation, or at least, doesn’t do enough. He is the soldier next to you that upends the contents of his stomach, despite his very best efforts to keep the nausea at bay.

Oh. Are those your shoes?]

Sorry. Need a second.

[Though it’s clear from the level of activity that they don’t have a second, 76 will take the briefest one anyway as he bends over and coughs. He’s old; leave him alone—also sorry about your shoes.]

ii. train up

[It’s easy to get to work, as there’s plenty to be done, but he’s sort of wondering if and when he’s ever going to get to use a real gun. He needs to keep his mouth shut about it so as not to raise any suspicion, but if the potential for wet gunpowder wasn’t bad enough, loading these things takes more time and effort than he thinks he can spare on the battlefield. 76 reminds himself that everyone else is playing with the same handicap. It certainly seems that his own military training is going to give him an advantage, if the other army is anything like this one.

76 can aim, which is half the battle and more than he can say for some of these farmers-turned-soldiers. He’s no stranger to teaching new recruits how to point a gun and shoot, but it is sort of a big job, given the state of things and the fact that he’s only one person. He’s keeping his eye out for fellow COST soldiers, and as soon as he spots someone he recognizes, he’s thrusting a gun into their (your) waiting (or not waiting) hands.]

Here.

[Consider yourself lucky he didn’t throw it.]

You know what you’re doing, or am I teaching you, too?

iii. supply

[Staking out is familiar, rote, and he takes to it easily. 76 has lost count of the sleepless nights he’s spent staring out at some dark expanse of field or city or forest or desert, waiting for something to happen. The where isn’t exactly important, now that missions start to blur together, but here on this unfamiliar battlefield he can’t help but think about the people he used to stake out with. The quiet makes it easier for those thoughts to creep back into the front of his consciousness. Makes it harder for him to brush it off, to the point where it’s almost a relief when there’s movement in the dark.

He doesn’t know the person beside him, or at least isn’t terribly familiar with them, and he tries to tell himself that it doesn’t matter. He can brood about it later, because there’s definitely noise out there, and it isn’t coming from them.]

Wake up.

[Doesn’t matter if you’re actually dozing or not—there’s a sharp elbow in your side, 76’s gruff, impatient tone of voice more than indicative of the fact that there’s something going on that’s worth paying attention to.]

iv. closed to angela

[He finds her in one of the medical tents, because of course that’s where she’d be. The predictability of it is almost comforting, though it does little to convince him he’s making the right decision. For all he knows, Angela isn’t real and he’s playing right into the hands of the people who have brought him here and want something from him, but having survived one battle and in the middle of preparing for the next, he’s starting to come around to the idea that he might be in this for the long haul.

Jack has to tell her—the longer he drags this out, the worse off they’ll all be for it. That’s what he keeps in mind as he steps into her space.]

Doctor Ziegler.

[This era’s uniform doesn’t afford him an easy way to hide his face, so he’s covered it from the nose down with a well-placed scarf. Better than shocking her right at the start—this will give him an opportunity to build up to it.

Or stall indefinitely. He’s left himself an opening if he can’t go through with telling her the truth.]

You have a minute?

v. wildcard

[I’ll do whatever the heck you want. Hit me up on plurk at whitticus.]

holds heart

[heilt]

( she hears the footsteps that announce his arrival, but people have been in and out of the tents all day that until he says her name angela doesn't pay him too much notice.

and she frowns, just a few seconds before lifting her gaze to him. they hadn't gotten to names in their last conversation, focused more on what COST's purpose or reasoning for them had been.

but something about this man had felt familiar, though maybe that was just her familiarities with soldiers. she hadn't worked like this in some time, and angela hadn't found any familiar faces from either time-step. yet )

You happen to have come at the right time.

( things, on this mission anyway, hadn't really heated up yet. they'd gotten to france far earlier than they had in jerusalem, affording them a little more time to prepare )

[mylawn]

[He knows full well that he's tipping his hand simply by speaking her name--to his knowledge, she doesn't even know they're from the same world. It's not quite ripping off the band-aid, but Angela is smart, and she'll immediately know that something is off. The worst thing he can do is protract this, but Jack ins't quite sure how he's supposed to segue into the confession he needs to give.]

Didn't want to intrude.

[They're alone for now, but there's no telling when someone will need her attention. The more selfish part of him hopes for an interruption, but the knowledge that their time might be limited means he has to get right to the point.]

I was hoping we could talk about Overwatch.

[heilt]

( the frown returns, and it springs all manner of questions to angela's mind. is he from her world, how does he know about overwatch, is he really part of cost? she's understandably concerned, and overwatch hadn't been a topic of conversation that angela had ever anticipated having here, not unless someone from her world had also been brought in-- )

Who are you?

( the question is quiet. cautious. angela almost doesn't want to know. just because he knows about overwatch, if he was from her world, does not mean it's anything good. this man had gone to great lengths to keep his face covered in each encounter, and no doubt that was for a reason. it didn't feel like a good one )

[mylawn]

[He wishes that she would just guess--make it that much easier for him when she says she already knows. But how could she even suspect? They buried him. The coffin was empty, sure, but that had been with the understanding there was nothing to fill it with--nothing left of him in the wake of the explosion to scrape off the pavement and dump into a grave.

A plausible explanation, one that didn't leave much room for further investigation. He imagines even Angela had to settle for it.

Still, she's always been perceptive, and it's easier to make her guess than it is for him to confess outright. Cowardly of him, maybe, but he's not sure how else to approach this.]

I'm an old friend.

[If he can even call it that.]

I think you already know, Angela.

[heilt]

( her head tilts, and her first instinct is that all of her old friends are dead. except reinhardt. but she'd buried ana, jack and gabriel. the commanders of overwatch, dad with it.

but he knows her. knows her name, knows her connection and there is something irritatingly familiar.

and angela can't deny it, as easy as it would be. she does know him, but how--

instead of saying more angela steps closer towards him. she'd rather he say it, but if he's making her figure it out... is he afraid, worried what she may think, or is there some other reason that he's hidden. it has to be for years if he's connected. all of her old friends (and she knows that he isn't reinhardt) have been years dead. if he'd been alive all of this time--

she reaches out to him, slowly unwrapping the scarf from around his face )

Gopf. Jack?

( angela lets it fall, eyes searching his face, bringing her hands to her face. he was older and more scarred, but he looked as angela remembered him )

We buried you.

( they buried an empty coffin, she knew that. they buried his memories, having declared him dead. but if he'd been alive for so long-- why? why had he not let any of them know that he was alive? )

[mylawn]

[He almost flinches away from her, but that seems unfair so Jack steels himself and lets her approach, keeping his arms firmly at his sides as she takes the scarf away from around his face. He can tell by her expression that she’s figured it out before she even touches the fabric, so when it falls away his expression is more sad and pained than anything else.

It’s good to see her again. He didn’t expect it, and he wishes it was under better circumstances, but he owes her this much.]

From what I hear, you didn’t bury anything.

[But he knows what she’s referring to, of course. Buried him, Overwatch, and everything he stood for, because at that point he’d been all but interchangeable with the organization. The empty grave was as much a symbol for the door closing on his peacekeeping initiative as it was an actual burial for Jack Morrison, the person.

Jack has to offer her more than a half-hearted joke. He knows Angela is strong, almost impossibly so, but she doesn’t deserve to be put through this.]

I’m sorry.

[heilt]

( there's a shake of her head, a little disdain for the joke. the whole thing hadn't been a joke to her -- the loss of friends, of their work. as outspoken as angela had been about several parts of the organisation she had believed in it, and had given so much to it )

It's been years.

( but he's sorry. of course he is, and she would laugh at that if she weren't torn by this realisation. he'd been alive all of this time. his death, all of it... it had been a lie )

Why didn't you tell anyone?

[mylawn]

It wasn't safe.

[That's his story, even though the real reason is a little more selfish. Jack hadn't been thinking straight when he stumbled out of the rubble of HQ, but at the time it had seemed better to stay dead. The world had decided once and for all that they didn't need him anymore, and he wasn't about to argue that point.

It's only after he was able to clear his head that he decided it was the best for his people, too. What's a few UN tribunals if it means everyone gets on with their lives in the end? Better to put it all in the past, especially given the conspiracies he's chasing.]

All of this went deeper than me and Reyes.

[heilt]

It was a war. We've never been completely safe.

( angela knows that jack is aware, he's been in the fight longer than she has, but perhaps he misses it from their perspective. she's a civilian, she's always been in the most danger, unable to defend herself as he can, untrained as he is. angela has always felt that danger, felt a healthy measure of fear, and yet it's never stopped her )

That's never changed, and we've always been there. We were a team.

[mylawn]

This is different.

[A whole different kind of war, with dangers he woudln't be able to protect his people from. Ana's disappearance was proof enough of that. The best thing he could do was get them as far away from the threat as possible. Perhaps he could have come back to life, sure, but he's certain that in the end, they'd drag the rest of them down with him. This way, everyone has some plausible deniability about what really happened.]

I wanted you to get on with your lives.

[heilt]

That wasn't your decision to make.

( angela sounds a little put out by that, disgruntled that he'd apparently decided what was best for her. he may have had ideas, and knowledge, regarding safety but angela had always wanted to make her own decisions and given friendships and lives on the line... she'd have taken that small piece of danger )

Surely you know that.

( whether or not he agrees )

[mylawn]

It was. My priority will always be to keep my people safe.

[Not entirely true, perhaps, given the fact that he's chasing the conspiracy that brought down Overwatch, but this isn't going to be something he budges on. He's put his people in enough danger already, and he won't make the same mistakes again.]

I need to find out what happened to Overwatch.

[And it isn't something he's going to drag the rest of them into, if he can help it.]

arrival;

[i_swear]

Never would have guessed.

[He's sick to his stomach, too. Wouldn't be the first time— sure as hell won't be the last, if he had to bet on it. But an empty stomach and a strong dose of stubborn willpower keeps the bile pinned against the back of his throat. A reflex. Nothing more.

He exhales through his nose, straightens out his back. Wipes the front of his shoe against the muddy flooring of the tent as his lips go thin. Getting a good, long look at his surroundings doesn't do much in the way of grounding him after that nausea-inducing trip. They say he's missing memories. That this was his old job.

He says it's bullshit.

But for the moment the only talking comes from the opposite end of the room as they're both hurriedly barked at in French. French he can understand: someone thin as a rail and shorter than either him or the man at his side by at least a foot, insisting that they both immediately change. What a stupid dream this is.]

[mylawn]

[76 is in the middle of coughing out the last of the vomit, but he still finds time to fix Joel with a look. To his own credit, it is only a second or two as 76 forces himself to keep moving forward, wiping his mouth and straightening after only a moment of recovery. It’s only once he’s upright that he gives Joel a good once-over, most certainly tinged with a sort of you don’t look much better sentiment.

But once he’s emptied his stomach the nausea fades and he can properly take in his surroundings. He’s not sure where or when they are, exactly, but it seems fairly archaic, enough to elicit a groan as the COST soldier that actually knows what they’re doing pulls him aside.

He takes his bundle of clothes and then casts Joel another Look-with-a-capital-L.]

Guess we’re not getting real guns anytime soon.

[i_swear]

Looks to me like we're getting everything but. [It's a grumble over the cuirass he's having to haphazardly tug off (that he's happy to get rid of), but one that's more mutual misery than outright resentment angled 76's way.

Besides, it's easier to swallow down a to-do list than it is the residual nausea he's holding— even if he doesn't much like either.] Maybe next time they'll pass us a couple of water pistols and call it a day.

[mylawn]

Just what I wanted.

[He says that with no small amount of exasperation, more muttered to himself than anything. It seems this man’s demeanor is not so dissimilar, enough that 76 is immediately comfortable ridding himself of his now-anachronistic armor. The replacement isn’t that much better, tech-wise, but of course he’s used to making do with what he’s given.]

You remember any historical battles fought and won with water pistols?

[A joke, of course, but at this point he really wouldn’t be surprised.]

[i_swear]

[Joel snorts, his mouth twisting into something that could either be gross contempt for the situation at hand— or the start of a laugh.] Sure as hell don't remember any historical battles fought with soldiers from the goddamn future.

[Loose shirt tugged into place, he's already sliding his arms into the sleeves of a military coat that looks like it's seen better days. And the 1777 he's currently palming isn't anywhere near as impressive as 76's two-gun combo. It means his eyes hang for a beat on the blunderbuss, teeth parting on a heavy inhale, like he means to say something— just before the same agent as before taps at his shoulder, voice barely audible as he snaps off a comment about Joel's horse waiting for him outside.]

—my what now?

[mylawn]

Well, if we do our jobs right, it’ll stay that way.

[Preserving the timeline should ensure that nobody knows of their intrusion, but of course he can understand the concern. Any further rumination, however, will have to wait as Joel is instructed that he has a horse waiting for him. Having ridden one in Jerusalem, 76 catches on faster than Joel does, and is quick to chime in.Ha. Cavalry.]

[i_swear]

[Don't laugh, 76. That ain't funny.

It's not until he finishes shrugging on his coat that he shoves past the agents gathered nearby: they wanted them in and out? Fine. He's out. Only when he passes by 76 himself that Joel grumbles in a bitter dismissal:]

Cavalry my ass.

[If they're supposed to be winning this war? He's doing this his way.]

[mylawn]

You want to trade?

[Not that 76 is actually going to trade, nor is he sure if they're allowed to trade--he can ride a horse, sure, but he also did his time in Jerusalem. He's ready to wield two entire guns, even if they can hardly be called guns. The more, the better--the less reloading he has to do.

With little else to do, he follows Joel outside the tent, thinking he probably wants to see this.]

Or do you not know how to ride a horse?

[i_swear]

[He ignores 76's question, stomping out into the drizzling rain outside to find a tawny brown horse snuffling impatiently nearby. It only briefly turns to glance at the two of them before returning to shifting its weight back and forth and tugging against the slack of its own reins.

To anyone that knows Joel, he and his given horse aren't exactly dissimilar.

With a snort of his own he reaches up to roughly run his palm across the stallion's nose, not exactly the picture of affectionate animal handling— but when it comes to an old dog from Texas, it's the closest thing to kindness he ever puts out. From there it's a quick shove of one foot into the nearest stirrup, throwing himself over the saddle in one easy go.]

Been riding most of my life. Doesn't mean I wouldn't rather have an extra gun in my damn hand.

[He supposes he could cover more ground like this. Dig up supplies faster than anyone else going around on foot or trying to use the local transportation.]

You in for a scouting run?

[Normally he'd go it alone, but unlike the mess he'd left back home, Joel already knows they're on the same team. Later on he'll ditch the added baggage— for now, an extra pair of eyes could help.]

[mylawn]

[Oh, well, it's good that it's a gun problem and not a horse problem--if Joel didn't know how to ride, then 76 might feel obligated to take the horse off his hands and give him his gun in exchange, but if he knows what he's doing then 76 will be perfectly content to keep the firearm.

He watches the exchange between man and horse for a brief moment, enough to confirm that Joel isn't going to get himself killed, then he gets to work on his own equipment. He's fairly engrossed in holstering his weapons when Joel suggests a scouting run, and 76 responds with a shrug.]

Might as well, as long as you don't mind the company.

[i_swear]

[There's a low grunt from Joel, which is about as articulate as it gets when it comes to taking 76 up on his offer: there's only a quick glance behind him towards the tents, all the bustling commotion that they're only just clearing— and then he shifts in the saddle, leaning backwards just an inch. It's like he's trying to weigh his next question.

Mostly because he is.]

You good walking, or you want up?

[mylawn]

Depends how fast you plan on going.

[So, he'll walk if this is going to be a leisurely scouting session, but he's got no issues with riding if Joel plans to go a little speedier than that. The pause before he says it, though, has 76 wondering if he's got some kind of weird hang-up. He can give Joel his space--that's no big deal.]

Just warn me if you decide to speed up.