agogelogs | AND THE ANZAC LEGENDS DIDN'T MENTION...

AND THE ANZAC LEGENDS DIDN'T MENTION...

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.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Totally normal. He thinks he's important, and gets mad about stupid things. [ She just... ignores Achilles, speaking like he isn't even there. The fact he is just makes it all funnier to her. ] So I guess you already know everything about him.

[ Almost reluctantly: ]

... Well, he's a good warrior, too. If there's a fight, he can be a reliable guy. Just don't expect much outside of that.

[ There are only a few here in COST that can get away with insulting Achilles so openly without having him absolutely flip his shit. Mordred is one of them.

But it does serve to agitate him, causing him to bristle somewhat. But before he can open his mouth, she's praising him and that in itself will turn him into a pathetic pile of goo.

He's a good warrior... ]

Saber here is impressively strong, herself. She could probably contend with me, if she had herself a worthy Master at the moment.

If you're from our universe, you'd have heard of us. Doesn't 'Achilles' ring a bell?

[ he would have replied, typically, with something sarcastic and shitty to Achilles' question (because he isn't educated enough for that definitely, or because he just want to fuck with Achilles' temper), but something about what he said before that...

Heine looks up at him, and then back down towards Saber, and his whole face blanches even paler than it is usually. He immediately pushes himself back away from both of them but as far as he possibly could away from Mordred, pressing his back up against the wall. He is suddenly scowling, if only to mask they thin-set line of his lips pale with panic. ]

'She'?

[ It's not Heine that she targets her anger at, but Achilles. She glares him down — or up, really, but her anger makes her seem taller. ]

Rider. I will kill you next time. [ Don't call her a woman, etc etc etc. After a few seconds, she lets out an annoyed huff, calming herself down, and turns back to Heine. ] Ignore him.

[ A pause. Her eyebrows raise in surprise at his reaction. ]

Uh, what's wrong with you? Did you see something? [ He did... but it's not what she's thinking. ]

[ He barks out a laugh at the threat... Because she can't kill him. It's impossible

But the laughter is clipped short as Heine starts moving back to get away from them both. He says 'she' like the word is repulsive. ]

I think he's shy --

What's the matter? Not used to being in the presence of a pretty girl?

[ he knows he must look odd, but it'd taken him by complete surprise. Heine takes a deep breath, his eyes fixed on a point away from Mordred. As it stands, that only really leaves the ground they're all sitting on. ]

It's nothing.

[ he still isn't going to move away from the wall though, leaning against it so hard that the stones dig into his back. if he could go through walls like they can, he would have done it by now. ]

[ Mordred snarls. ] You idiot! Even after I warned you—!

[ She tries to kick Achilles in the heel, knowing he won't feel it anywhere else. Chances are he'll dodge, of course, but it's the only way to make her point. Figuring Heine will jump at the chance to do away with an annoyance, she shouts at him: ]

Help me get this guy!

[ WHOOPS, no! He kicks a leg up, dodging the strike and smoothly rolls onto his feet so that he has better mobility. ]

W-wait! Saber! You're aiming for my heel?! [ She's merciless. JEEZ. ] It was a compliment, though!

[ normally? Heine would probably jump at the chance to be a nuisance only because Achilles had been such a pain in that time loop place. But he hesitates now, mouth turning down into a frown, glaring daggers at them both. ]

No.

I said I'd kill you!

[ She kicks a few more times, never really coming close to hitting, then scowls and glares at him again. And then at Heine. And then back to Achilles.

Whole lot of glaring going on here. ]

I can't believe you'd take his side. [ Achilles', she means. She can't believe you didn't help her Heine. ]

[ Achilles is the only one not glaring here; instead he's frantically waving his hands out in front of him, like he's trying to deflect her killing intent. ]

Wait a minute! I don't understand why you're upset! Are you embarrassed?

[ what the hell is going on???? ]

I'm not on anyone's side.

[ 'Embarrassed'... she's so angry she could spit. ] Don't call me a woman, you fool! I'm a king!

[ And, in her mind, the two are mutually exclusive. The truth of her gender would ruin her claim to the throne, just as it would have for her father.

Sorry, Heine. She'll get back to you in a minute. ]

[ Oh jeez. He shouldn't find this adorable, but he does. Seriously, at the back of his mind there are alarms going off, and he understands he's treading dangerous waters.

He can't insult a friend's pride, though. This is something important to her so he shouldn't tease her about it. ]

You can be both, can't you? Besides, it seems in the time we were summoned in gender is no longer something that limits what people can do. [ He has the vaguest idea about it, but he's not educated. Don't listen to him. ]

Still, whether you are male or female, I still think you're beautiful.

[ Looking at Heine for agreement. ]

[ don't include him in this....

Heine hunches his shoulders defensively, the corners of his mouth downturning further. ]

Hey, don't ask me. I don't really care.

Don't call me that, either! [ Male? Beautiful? Both, probably. Mordred is the hardest person on earth to please — because she hardly even knows what she wants, either. ] You're both annoying me!

[ Achilles by being himself, and Heine by... also being himself, but mostly by staying out of it. Once she's already annoyed, it doesn't take much to draw her ire. ]

I've gotta find new people to talk to. [ ... Yeah, she's gonna try and leave now. ]

[ He's getting up to try and block her path, hands out in front like he's bracing for an attack. ]

Wait! Saber... Let me apologize [ Now he's done it and is currently eating his words. And if he truly thought of her a real man, he wouldn't be succumbing like this. He's just a lot more flexible when it comes to the ladies and deep down, still holds sexist ideals that they just need to hear what they want to hear............

At the very least, he does admire and respect her as a warrior. He understands better than most that pride is an important and sacred thing. ]

I didn't mean to insult you with my careless words. If you like, you can defend your pride honourably and challenge me. [ He wouldn't let her win, no matter what the competition. ]

[ heine, always unhelpfully providing commentary, speaks up over the noise once achilles is done. ]

Look, he seems pretty sorry about it, so why don't you take advantage of it and just kick his ass good?

He probably needs it.

[ He seems pretty sorry about it — Mordred would say otherwise, but she's an annoyed, bitter asshole. Even she knows they can't risk having a full-blown fight in the trenches, but there are other ways to compete. ]

Fine. [ She points at Achilles, first. ] We're going to arm wrestle. [ Then she points at Heine. ] He's going to judge.

[ She's not giving Achilles a choice... then again, she doubts he'd say no. He's too desperate. Fortunately, there's a sandbag nearby they can use as a surface to lean on. ]

[ If it'd been any other person, he would have burst out laughing at the challenge. But he's already dug himself a hole and he's not about to bury himself.

He grins confidently, crossing his arms as she gestures at Heine. ]

Think you can contain your strength enough, Saber? We can't go caving in these tunnels, after all.

[ ugh... How did he get roped into this. ]

Fine.

[ Because they won't fucking let him leave... ]

Hmph. I'm not a fool, Rider. [ Hm. ] A real fight would be far too damaging. This is the best way to decide things.

[ She sets her elbow down. Objectively, it looks like an incredibly uneven contest — 42kg of knight vs 97kg of kale, but she seems confident. ]

Have it your way, Saber. [ He's wearing that cocky little smirk of his as usual. ]

I warn you, though. I have a Master now, so this will hardly be fair.

[ Not knowing that she too has a Master. He sets down, holding his arm up. Her tiny hand can barely reach, so he has to adjust the angle of his arm somewhat. ]

[ y'all are dumbasses.... why are you even doing this......

Heine doesn't really think much about the outcome of this; sure, Mordred looks like she could barely lift the sandbag, let alone win this arm wrestling, but then he knew plenty of little girls (haha) who could. So he's not going to judge the outcome or bet on anything. ]

Whenever you guys are ready.

[ She grabs his hand, nodding to indicate the start of the match. They both have the same rank in strength, so normally, it'd be an even contest — but, of course, Noctis is a better master than Ryuji (rip). In a battle of attrition, Achilles would win easily. But— ]

I've got you now—! [ There's the noise of a small explosion, and she slams Achilles' hand down into the sandbag with a mana burst. Triumphant, she jumps to her feet. ] See that? Someone like you could never stand before my father!

[ She smirks, clearly proud of herself.

Then she passes out from mana loss in a goddamn heap, hitting the ground with a thud. ]

AND THE ANZAC LEGENDS DIDN'T MENTION...

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