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.

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Comments

so daunting....

[purpleandgray]

"Ah, moderation in everything," Merlin says with a quiet hum, nodding easily at her comment as if it were the most reasonable.

It really isn't, though. But who is he to judge?

"I'm sure she would have quite an impressive visage. Not sure if that would be such a bad thing, though." He sounds thoughtful as if he really is considering the pros and cons of it.

Then he jumps out of his revenue when she doesn't seem to know what to do with the candy.

"You can eat it." Here, let Merlin show an example. Here goes, blue and green at the same time. "Or you could just play with it too, if you like. One could suggest that ripping off the heads and seating them on different coloured bodies might be amusing."

A beat. And a few more bears.

"I recommend eating, though."

He's going to come back to that line of thought about his kingdom in a little bit. They have more important things to discuss at first.

snaps fingers at

[dorzalta]

She doesn't mention her dragons, or how they'd been so very territorial of their food whilst adolescents. Nor does she mention how Drogon terrorized the countryside throughout Essos for so very long. That's why she attempts to monitor this. Because allow a child free reign, and that child would learn no discipline.

"The entire point is to assimilate. Having a spider-like creature terrorizing the enemies would not do well for history, I imagine."

This is Dany: behaving. Not trying to twist the events into something more favorable.

She leaves that subject be, and instead watches him eat the bears. When he suggests tearing their heads off, she lifts her own to her nose and sniffs at it. There's a distantly sweet smell to it. Strange.

"Have you torn their heads off very often?" she asks, before slipping the bear into her mouth.

It's chewy. With each bite, more flavor bursts onto her tongue. Not juicy like the fruit she'd favored in Essos, but not plain, either.

"Where are these from?"

dead eyes cupcakes

[purpleandgray]

"Assimilate," Merlin says and drags his fingers through his muddy hair. They sure have assimilated. He's never felt this assimilated in his life to be honest.

He watches her put the gummy bear in her mouth and curiously chew upon it. There's something to be said about cultural appreciation here, he muses and drops a few more of the bears into his mouth.

"I have. Plenty of times. I went to engineering school some years back, in this world's or a world similar to this, only about a hundred years to the future. Sometimes the lectures were boring. It was a form of survival, honestly."

He drops a handful of them onto her palm and slips the bag into his pocket. "Where? Ah, I suppose they're a local treat, just in a wrong timeline. Technically they came from my pocket."

>8O

[dorzalta]

"At least it's not raining. It rained near the entire time we were in France." She eyes the additional bears in her hand, fingers curling around them as she marvels over the way the bear seems to disintegrate in her mouth. "In Jerusalem, which I'm told is a third country in this world, we warred in the desert. That, at least, was familiar." After a pause, she lifts her hand with the candies in them. "Thank you."

When the last traces of sweetness fade from her mouth, she samples a red one.

"Engineering? What sort of things have you created, save for mismatched bears?"

[purpleandgray]

"You've been to France and Jerusalem?" Merlin asks curiously. He hasn't yet heard anything about the earlier missions. Perhaps she could tell him something.

He waves a hand at her gratitude. It's his pleasure, really. Just a few gummy bears.

"Ah!" He lifts a finger at her question, his eyes squeezing into curious slits. Is he really going to tell her his life story? Does he even know her name?

"I did create something," he says slowly while chewing on a piece of orange gelatin and marvels how smooth the texture feels against his gums and the tip of his tongue. You start to appreciate the weirdest shit when you live on half decayed rations.

"You probably don't know what a computer is, right?"

[dorzalta]

"I have. We warred in the deserts of Jerusalem, and I was a handmaiden to Marie Antoinette." She doesn't look as happy with regards to the latter. Chambermaid more like it, though she leaves that detail out. "We ultimately failed in France. The king was murdered a month sooner than he should have.

"We also briefly traveled to Vorspiel. Have you heard of that world? Songs made magic manifest."

She'd drowned there. Facing death was a terrifying thing. Without another word, she eats another of the bears, wondering what Jorah would think of his House's sigil in edible form. Perhaps he would find it amusing and eat the entire bag in a fit of mulishness. Or perhaps he would merely sigh, looking at her gravely while he murmured Khaleesi.

Her old bear... how she misses him.

"A computer," she sounds the word out. "I don't know what it is."

[purpleandgray]

"What about Jerusalem?" Merlin asks curiously. "Did you come out as victors there?" He wonders quietly what the success rate in COST missions is.

"Vorspiel?" he asks, somewhat amused by the associations. "No, I don't believe I've heard of a world like that. I wouldn't have minded to see it, though." Songs and magic. That sounded fascinating. It doesn't sound like vorspiel, his mind producing a dream image of something beautiful and ethereal. But perhaps he's wrong. "What kind of a mission you had there?"

At her admission he reaches up to scratch his chin, the stubble that's grown there. "Computer is a machine that processes information. Like you know how a wheel works in a cart, right? Well, computer is a million times more intricate with a lot more cogwheels and little intricate parts that make it work. Now, computers do a lot of things that might seem pointless to you. But they're good for processing information. You can safekeep images in them for example, or written text. You know this communicator thing that we use for contacting each other here? That's a computer. So, I made a computer that didn't need to exist in any physical form. It also had a mind of its own. So, for example, I could tell him to go look up information about anything I wanted to know, and it would search the universe, different worlds, different planes of existence and return to me with information."

He pauses, considering his words for a moment and then continues with a shrug: "So, in short, I'm a parent to a cosmic being that I created out of something that was never meant to be alive."

[dorzalta]

"We did. Far as I can tell, that was when the first group of us arrived." She doesn't mind speaking of this. It's neutral enough. But her voice drops to nothing more than a breath as she says: "We captured a Regency girl. They erased her from existence there. That's why they can never know our names and who we are."

It's as much a warning as it is information for him to do with as he pleases. It's something all the newcomers should be made aware of, she thinks. The risks were far too great, otherwise.

"Rally those to the cause of rebellion. Fight mythical creatures for their magical gold." Her eyes grow distant, silence stretching between them as her mind drifts off to the memory of her death. Rhinemaidens puling her into the watery depths, lungs filling with water--and then life, once again. She huffs, shaking the remnants of that thought away. "A brief task, prior to your arrival."

What he speaks of seems impossible. Like a fairy tale. It shows in her expression, however brief the flicker of it manifests.

"So it's more advanced than the BCE, more efficient." A soft snort. "Welcome to being a parent, I suppose."

[purpleandgray]

"What do you mean erased from existence?" he looks alarmed by this wording. He's seen that happen before but in a way that was much more catastrophic. Whole worlds were destroyed, or rather, wiped out. That was when his father almost rewrote the whole universe in the image that he chose.

It doesn't sound promising, though, that COST has this kind of power at their disposal.

"Do you mean they killed her or...?"

He's to concerned about this little piece of information to really focus on what she says about the brief mission while fighting mythical beings. He might return to it at a latter point but for now he is more focused on the first topic.

He has to briefly snort at the comment about being a parent, however. "Yes, Ghost is a very self-sufficient entity but I find myself attached to it in a way that probably emulates parental feelings. He calls me dad." There's a bit of wonder in the last statement, something he seems to both find troublesome and pleasing. He could never decide which.

[dorzalta]

"I mean exactly that. One moment she sat before us much like you and I stand now. The next, she began to disappear." Killed her is one way about it. "They erased her. No past, no present, no future. They viewed her as a traitor."

Why has none warned the others of this? This one's been here for a number of days now. He was with them at Base, was he not?

"Ghost?" That's what catches her attention. Not his explanation of how self sufficient a machine is, but the name. "Jon's direwolf is named Ghost. What's with men naming their things that?"

Not that a wolf was a thing.