AND THE ANZAC LEGENDS DIDN'T MENTION...

[agogemod]

AND THEN SOMEONE YELLED OUT "CONTACT!";

and the bloke behind me swore

THE SILENT WAR

The news of the day of the retreat spreads like wildfire through the Trenches. Leading up to the final date, all soldiers on the ground are instructed to limit their gunfire, to make it look like the usual traditions for warfare, which have determined much of human history up until this point: no one really goes to war in winter. Everyone is to maintain a verbal and physical presence, but the time to confuse the Turks has really become paramount. At times, whole sections are ordered to be perfectly quiet until the last possible second and then spring out before the Turks can get too close.

Which is just how it is supposed to be. In fact, for COST recruits, there's a real sense that this might just go according to plan.

Around this time, the Rear Guard signup starts. COST recruits are met with some surprise by Captain Lewis; he will blink in surprise at a group so new wanting to volunteer so readily, but he's glad and gives everyone who joins a big warm handshake.

Each day gets closer and the mood of the soldiers becomes more jubilant and tenser; the erratic sense of relief that they might be leaving what has become the graveyard of so many friends and, often times, family, combines with the frustration of not being able to do anything but wait. This leads to more than a few fights breaking out, often over nothing important. Just the edge of temporary relief.

Then, before dawn on Jan 7th, the evacuation begins in earnest. It's possible to see it from the top of some sections: a bustling populace until it trickles down to the ghost of the Trenches, where there is nothing left but the rear guard. It's a smooth, efficient evacuation.

The Rear Guard

This is a skeleton army, just enough to make it seem no one has left. Everyone is encouraged to come up with ways to make it seem like there are more men than there actually are.

The local soldiers have come up with a particularly sneaky one - a rope is wrapped around the trigger of a rifle, just loose enough not to pull it, and from the end of it hangs a bucket. Another container slowly drips water into the bucket until it fills and drops, pulling the rope around the trigger and firing the gun. Soldiers are tasked with emptying the water, refilling the cannister, or checking the gun if it looks like it has jammed.

Outside of that, if someone has a sneaky idea to keep up the ruse - even if it's lighting small fires or singing loudly in a chorus to give the notion of people still around - it's all encouraged.

THE THUNDER OF GUNS

Everything is going well. It's not even that worrying when a thick mist comes up, heavy and difficult to see through. But, for those with powers, it prickles oddly on bare skin, followed by a pressure that builds in the back of the mind. It seems to dull any extra powers or senses; magic and its ilk are still usable, but require more concentration to reach now.

In the stillness of the night, however, there is no breeze to move the fog on and it settles like oil through the trench.

It's 1am when the first shell drops. It falls to the east of the recruits' position at Lone Pine. It's a shell that comes down and splits apart the night air in an explosion of shrapnel, dirt and heat. Then a second, then a third, now starting from both sides.

All the soldiers' clamour out of the way and Captain Lewis can be heard shouting over the din: "Into the Tunnels!"

But not everyone can make it. The shells are coming steadily now and one step in the wrong direction is the difference between life and death in such a small space. It's chaos - some soldiers are killed outright. Others get buried under the debris and dirt. Others catch shrapnel that, if not fatal, is enough to throw them and make it hard to get up. But COST's mission is the same as it always is: save as many of these men's lives as possible.

There are four direct entries into the tunnels, all about four or five meters apart, and they're all interconnected within the tunnels themselves.

One by one, however, shells fall and destroy the entrances to the tunnels.

WARTIME ARCHEOLOGY

It takes another three hours for the bombardment to stop and, once the tunnel entrances collapse, it becomes very dark in there. Might be time to fish out a match and strike up a torch.

While Officers previously told soldiers to keep out of the tunnels and otherwise left them ignored, these tunnels are huge. Not like the ones in other sections of the coast; here, they seem to go far into No Man's Land. They're crudely constructed and only some sections are reenforced with heavy beams of wood. But once journeying into them, there are all sorts of things to be found. There are old gas lamps that can be used to light your way or hung on a secure nook or cranny. The stone has been worn smooth in some sections, and other parts have been carved with graffiti of the soldiers who cut them out.

Some locations go down a few steps, while others go up and small holes seem to have been dug through the roof of the tunnels.

It's definitely best to get away from the front of the tunnels, where the bombing is still going on. There are wounded to be seen to and secured from bleeding out, people to find to make sure everyone is still alive. Maybe you want to go farther into the interweaving tunnels to see what else can be recovered. Or maybe you're being stubbornly sensible and looking for a way to dig your way out again, once the bombs stop firing.

Either way, it's a long, exhausting wait in the dark as the ground shakes, showering dust and rocks over everyone.

INTO THE DAWN

The sun has risen when the firing stops - and it's time to search for a way out of here.

Stepping into the light reveals utter destruction. The concentrated bombing has done its work; everything is strewn or buried in dirt and rubble. Machine guns are overturned and parts of the Trench have collapsed; going over the top would be disastrous, given that the Turks have no idea what is happening and will pick off anyone who sticks their head up.

There also isn't...anyone else around. All that's left is this one segment of the rear guard, just 500 men and the COST soldiers. It isn't possible to discern if the other groups have been evacuated or killed at this point.

It's time to consolidate, count their losses, see who is alive and who isn't, and salvage what supplies are left after some digging clean up is done. Work out who needs to stand watch. For now, Captain Lewis' orders are to use the tunnels as a new base of operations.

SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

They appear first as a shimmer of off-light, no more than a haze against the resettling mist. A faint shape against the grey - the long lines of a dog's face, almost Jackal-like, in a clean black uniform that gives more to the appearance of shadows - moves closer, but not too close. They could almost be a trick of the light, out of the corner of your eye. Almost intangible.

They're not moving closer, however, choosing to hang back in the rubble of the Trenches. The ANZAC soldiers don't seem to notice them at all.

Ten minutes after they're first spotted, Commander Grothia issues a priority message:

Contact. Regency soldiers. Do not engage.

If a shot does get fired that way, whether it's from Turkish or ANZAC soldiers unknowingly or from COST operatives: it's quick but, as the bullet seems to come into contact with them, the air around them shimmers blue, like it's hitting a field of light. This effect seems to be stronger when they're standing close together and, as of now, they remain unhurt.

Moving closer to them increases that feeling of mind fog on powered characters; for the unmagical, a sense of unease prickles up. It's a feeling not unlike the beginnings of the time-step, the hum of sensation that marks a transfer through time. Veteran recruits will easily recognize the buzz that dances through their bones before it stills as they move away; rookies might recall it from their initial arrival from BASE.

READ THE OOC INFOPAGE.

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC MEMES PLURK

Comments

[horsepowered]

A) The Mist
It cannot be natural mist. That much Chiron knows, knows because natural phenomena should not send a shiver up his spine as it does. It lingers, tingling, before he feels the back of his head weigh down and--

--and manifesting his corporeal form is harder. Chiron tenses when he realizes that, and that he is automatically spending mana in order to maintain himself.

Worriedly, he starts to walk faster, eyes on the look out for any of his fellow operatives that he knows to be magic users. This cannot be unique to him.

The frown deepens on Chiron's face as he moves, murmuring to himself. "This is a herald of something worse."

B)Tunnel
[It is easier to be in spirit mode now. The mana spent trying to manifest in that mist aside, there is no need to side-step rubble in spirit mode. There is only moving from place to place with appreciable speed and a quicker way to gauge which tunnels are closed off versus which have collapsed.

None of this prevents Chiron from asking in a clear voice, temporarily taking form again:]

If there's anyone injured here, yell.

[Regular soldiers will probably see the whole thing as a strange product of delirium in retrospect anyway.]

C) Enemy sighting

"There has to be a purpose to dressing that out of time and place."

Chiron's words are a whisper as he observes the Regency soldiers in place. There's no sense to such uniforms without it. His voice comes from behind, trying to keep the most amount of distance possible between himself and the Regency.

Whatever abilities they have, his mind feels heavier for it. That's alarming, far too alarming.

mist

[bloodings]

Mordred's struggling, too — probably more than he is, given the cost of simple upkeep for a Saber class. When she sees Chiron, it's obvious by the look in his eyes that he feels it too, and she's quick to move closer to him.

"It's like Assassin's mist." She'd only felt it once, but it's not the sort of thing you forget (in fact, it's the only thing she remembers about that encounter). The strange tingling. The sense that an attack could come at any moment. And yet, it's too different to be exactly the same, and she adds, "I don't think there's another Servant here, though."

Which might be even worse. Back then, she'd dispelled that fog easily enough with her sword, but she knows that won't work here. Even if she had the mana to spare, or her weapon with her, this feels much, much heavier than that pseudo London smog. Pensively, she looks over at Chiron.

"The Regency. It's gotta be." Her instincts are practically screaming it at her.

[horsepowered]

Chiron is glad to have Saber next to him, confirming the suspicions that are building up and up and up in his mind. All the better that she voices his deepest worry aloud. It's confirmation of instinct, and moreover, that it isn't just him being effected in this extremely particular manner.

"Most likely," he says, eyes moving around to ensure that no one else will overhear this particular discussion. "And the chaos of this place probably enables them to show their hand more easily than Paris would have allowed."

That had been spies and politics and the kind of shadowy nonsense that was a bad fit for every Heroic Spirit in COST. This? This was different and potentially worse if it came to genuine blows.

"We should move towards a more covered area, at the very least. If this is about to get worse, we need to look after ourselves first and foremost."

[bloodings]

He's not wrong. They're still powerful here, but nothing like back home — with the mist, it's all they can do to stay moving and alert. If an attack comes, they'll only be a few steps above an average human. And yet:

"To hell with that. If something's gonna happen, I'm staying out here."

The soldiers won't take cover just because of some ominous fog. Until there's an attack, something to fight or flee from, they'll stay out in the open, and Mordred will too. It's not that she cares about the mission, of course. She's just in it for her own reasons. (Which are... shut up.)

[horsepowered]

Chiron frowns, and there's no hiding his disapproval at what to him sounds like a plan designed to waste mana instead of accomplishing anything of use.

"We'll be no use to anyone if we don't at least try to minimize our exposure to the stuff."

Using a collective term is likely to backfire. Chiron doesn't care. He's too unnerved right now, and it isn't like they couldn't make excuses. Something in the air making them break out in a bad rash and needing to make sure it didn't impact them in the fight to come.

Yeah, that was horrible.

"There's a tarp covering a few men over to the left, no one will notice two more."

[bloodings]

"Then you go ahead. A king doesn't run from anything."

Not that he's running; but to Mordred, taking shelter might as well be the same thing. She can't imagine her father under the tarp, and so she won't go there either. No wonder her mana supplies are the worst of all the Servants.

"If there's an attack, the first thing they'll see is me. They ought to run away with their tails between their legs." From a Saber without sword or armour, sure. "You should come up with a plan for getting others to safety."

[horsepowered]

"A king isn't running. A king is simply waiting for the opportune moment, and ensuring that they are at their most splendid."

It's the last words Chiron will use to try and convince Mordred to not forge ahead with what seems to be a foolhardy plan. His entire body is as tense as it was before, and now there's a hint of concern in it as well, directed specifically at Mordred.

"They could be using this substance for a number of hours, very much on purpose, just to make sure no one is at full strength."

[bloodings]

Chiron, why are you like this... she hates it when other people are right, especially about things she doesn't want to hear. She grouses a little more, but if he's right, and it lasts hours...

"Hmph." That's Mordred-speak for 'good idea'. "Very well. I'll set an example for everyone else."

Mordred strides over towards the tarp, all confidence now that she's made her decision. She'd still much rather be out in the open where she was, but if she's doing this, there's no point loitering any longer.

"If that's their goal... they'll be expecting a weakened force." She grins. "They won't find it."

[horsepowered]

Chiron's more than a little surprised that his attempt actually worked, but he'll take it. Slowly, he follows after Mordred, trying not to spend any more mana than he absolutely must. It's a tall order, and one he isn't sure he can actually succeed at.

"It's definitely their goal," he agrees, keeping his voice low.

"But so far, they've only gone after those who rely on something else to power their attacks. I don't doubt they're going to create some physical obstacles next."

enemy sighting

[mylawn]

"Confident, don't you think?"

76 is watching the soldiers same as Chiron, partially to see what they plan to do, mostly to make sure no COST members get too close. What surprises him is the way they don't dress for the era, but he supposes it's not out of the question that they're using some kind of tech to keep themselves hidden from the locals. It begs to question why he can see them, but that seems like something to file away and ask the Commander later.

For now, there's not much to do but ruminate and wait for the other shoe to drop.

"Don't even bother to fit in."

[horsepowered]

"Overly so," Chiron replies, his voice low and betraying exactly how unimpressed he is with all of this. First a mist to de-power magic users and their ilk, then an attack to send forces running. And all for what, looming in the backdrop?

It was almost cartoonish, and he nearly said the words before deciding against it. It was an invitation to be contradicted, and that was something he had no desire to issue.

"That's probably the point," he says instead. "I don't like that they're waiting."

[mylawn]

If Chrion is unimpressed, 76 is downright sullen, not taking his eyes off the shapes in the distance. They've got to make some kind of move--he's sure of it, because it would be stupid not to, with the position they've got them in. The fact that they aren't has 76 feeling like he's missing something.

"They'll be on us sooner rather than later."

Otherwise, what's the endgame?

[horsepowered]

"Unless they're playing a longer game."

Chiron's voice showed exactly how much he disapproved of a strategy like that. He hated it, and frankly, it seemed like command expected a longer end game as well.

"Which begs the question why? Between that mist and the tunnels, there's been enough of a wearing down that this ought to be an opportune moment to attack."

[mylawn]

“How long could they possibly play it? They must know we’ve evacuated most of the troops.”

Unless they have different information about the history of this event, but aren’t their prognosticators even better than COST’s? There are too many unknowns, here, and it puts 76 even more on edge.

“Must be something we’re missing.”

But by now it seems obvious that the Regency knows many things they don’t.

[horsepowered]

"If the positions were reversed, what reason would you have for holding back?"

The question is frank. Chiron's exhausted his thoughts, and he needs anyone with experience to perhaps offer another perspective. 76 is as good as anyone, and Chiron has come to see him as a clear, level headed sort.

[mylawn]

"It's certainly not discretion, if the outfits are any indication."

The way he sees it, the Regency is here dressed without regard for the time period, they're not concerned with causing a scene, though he does find it curious that none of the local soldiers have seemed to comment on their presence.

"Maybe they're waiting for us to act first."

[horsepowered]

"Maybe. If someone disobeys an order," and Chiron thinks it possible. Saber, for example, might be foolhardy enough to do it. "Then they have an excuse to do something in retaliation."

The dig at the outfits do get a soft snort of a laugh out of Chiron. There's nothing else to laugh at in this situation.

"Do you want to bet coin on if the masks are hiding the heads of actual jackals underneath?"

enemy sighting (if you don't mind having me for a third thread WOO)

[dorzalta]

She recognizes that voice. Even amidst the chaos of their retreat into the tunnels, to the calm of the morning whilst they dig themselves out. The first thing a dirt-covered Dany did was step closer to the tunnel's exit, breathing in fresh air not tinged with dirt and dust. That is, of course, when they come.

"They're making a point. Might as well be declaring outright war."

How does she know that? She doesn't, not as a definite, but she thinks that's the case. Announce one's arrival without reservation. Reveal one's advantages. She's done the very same with her dragons countless times before.

let's do it.

[horsepowered]

"They've already done that," Chiron said, still looking dead ahead. His tone was calm, but a hint of irritation crept into it. There was no denying that this was war as theatre, and that was the worst part of all. Bombs, mana draining mist, even trenches had an actual use. Standing around to try and scare people was infuriating.

"They don't need to drive the point any further."

Finally, Chiron took his eyes off the soldiers that stood against the dark, and regarded Dany with a polite enough nod to show that he appreciated the company.

[dorzalta]

She understands these methods. Doesn't agree with them, no, but she understands them. Intimidate, cow the enemy, and reap victory. The pointless slaughter beforehand reminds her of the Masters.

"Now they do. Before, barring that mist, it might've been another facet of the war we've already experienced."

She looks to him, noting that he seems more on edge than she's ever seen of him. Minute details she'd have missed had she not had the opportunities to speak to him elsewhere, before the strain of a mission sinks deep into one's bones.

"Are you alright?" Innocuous enough a question, but she means more than mere superficiality.

[horsepowered]

She's right, of course, but Chiron has no desire to discuss that point further. That mist was all that was needed to herald their approach, and beyond that, well. He knew that level heads were needed right now. Saying anything that might inflame passions and cause direct conflict was to be shoved away.

"I believe we discussed what might cause issue for me in the past, yes?"

Chiron trusts that he doesn't need to elaborate further.

[dorzalta]

That has her turning to him (still keeping the Regency in her periphery), a clear frown on her face. Blue eyes sweep down him form from head to toe, as if she might somehow be able to discern just how affected he was by this mist.

It was the mist, wasn't it? It makes her skin crawl, makes her wish a fire could engulf all around her and purify the space.

"How do we ease this for you?"

[horsepowered]

Chiron's face was perfectly stoic. For all that the mist and the course of events had eaten at him (been eating at him, if he was being entirely honest), he was certain of his ability to make it through.

"At the moment, it has been a matter of resource allocation. That is to say, I've been in the tunnels and in spirit form whenever possible. There are means of temporarily regaining the energy, but hardly appropriate in this time and place."

[dorzalta]

Inappropriate means of regaining energy? "Lest it's burning someone at the stake, I doubt we'd find something inappropriate, currently."

She spares their strangely clothed enemies one last, lingering look. They use magic she doesn't understand. Things which should be impossible, such as bending bullets in the air. Though it could be the same idea, in theory, as Drogon's wings beating away arrows with a mighty gust.

With a quiet huff, she turns away from the tunnel entrance and gestures for him to follow. The further away from this, the less they would feel the mist.

"Would any energy do? Could we not find someone with that magic to--" She drops from that train of thought, as they step past a man.

I am so sorry for everything about this canon

[horsepowered]

Chiron is absolutely happy to withdraw from the sight of the Regency. It does him no good to linger and let his tensions grow worse, and it also saves him the immediate desire to contradict the statement of finding something inappropriate. Because there is nothing good about the quick fixes.

"It's a matter of how the transfer works," he responds, voice low. No one else is around now that someone has gone past, but still. This is a private matter. "Short of forming a contract, energy resides in bodily fluids. Blood and...more intimate matters."