THROUGH STRIFE AND FAMINE AND WAR AND PEACE,

[agogemod]

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Fight in the historic Battle of Valmy.
WHEN? September 20th, 1792. Valmy.
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

MISSION OBJECTIVE

Win the day!

Historically, Valmy was an unexpected victory for France that really kicked off the French Revolution. Make sure this holds true! Don't let the Prussians break through French lines, take either Dumouriez or Kellerman, and survive.

WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO GOETHE

The life of Goethe was saved by those who volunteered to keep him from the clutches of Regency assassination, though it was a near thing; they were not able to leave completely stealthily, and had to run back to French lines as dawn broke.

Most important after saving the life of Goethe, they were able to apprehend and capture the Regency spy. She is in holding, restrained in a tent hidden far behind enemy lines. You can speak with her, if you wish.



SHARPSHOOTING

Famously, Kellerman had his troups climb up a windmill and the nearby farmhouse to shoot down at the valley below and the Prussians attempting to run through it from the cover of the forest. Take out as many Prussians as you can. Alternatively, if you're not much for shooting but you're quick fingered and organized, you can help reload the shooter's muskets, hand them supplies, more musket balls and powder, fresh muskets when one of theirs becomes jammed, or simply keep the rain out of their eyes.

Battery

You hear that? It's canonfire! Cannons take at least two people to load, aim and fire, making it a steady process requiring teamwork and balance. You want to go as fast as possible so the attacking army doesn't get right up to your nose, after all. Be careful! Don't drop a cannonball on your foot.

COMBAT

Get into the thick of it! There's less armor in this era, more quick jabs with sabers and bayonets, and your pistol can only hold a single bullet at a time. Unless you've got time to reload, you're better off just throwing the thing aside after firing a shot-- you'll see this tactic is popular among troops on either side, not wanting to be weighed down by a now-useless hunk of metal. Horses are not uncommon either, though they're largely reserved for officers who are more than happy to reach down and stab you while they ride by… if they don't just run you over in the first place. And did I mention the cannonfire occasionally making the ground explode into huge chunks? Try to avoid those.

MEDICAL

As always, wounded soldiers require assistance. The medical tent has a steady supply of the wounded, many with injuries from cannonfire, where limbs have been blown off almost in their entirety, and blood gushes readily from damaged major arteries. Act quick, and don't be afraid to, uh, amputate. Nobody else is.

STEALTH

There is reason to believe some Regency spies are undercover as French officers, and intend to kill either Kellerman or Dumouriez. Stay near the generals and protect them... without letting on. Capturing the spies alive would be a serious boon for COST, so if you could manage not to kill the spy, please? ...Please?

INFORMATION is worth its weight in gold

The way these battles work is reliant on the generals sending information down to their troops from the hills they're using to overlook the fighting. Fast riders or runners are essential for this task, and it affords you an opportunity to be near either general should you need to protect them against spying. Or maybe the runners are the spies? Who knows. Regardless, try to preserve the flow of information, and fix any tangles that may appear. If a runner with vital orders gets attacked, back them up; if they get killed, replace them; if they disappear… figure out what happened?

cannon killer squad

For the fast, stealthy, and / or magically gifted, Takatora has set up a 'Cannon-killer' plan, intending to weaken Prussian artillery through magic, speed, and the application of giant hammers. It's risky-- you'll have to get pretty close to the Prussian lines-- but it's worthwhile if you can weaken them even a little.

I'm going down I'm yelling timber

At some point late in the day, just when the worst of the rain has finally stopped, Prussian artillery finally gets aim good enough to send a volley of cannonballs straight at the windmill and farmhouse on the hill. There's a reason this strategy was considered a bold move; stationary targets are never safe in wartime. The windmill comes down in an explosive crash, and the farmhouse begins to collapse. Were you caught in the crossfire? Are you coming to pull bodies out of the rubble? Do what you can to recoup from this loss.

MORALE

When all else fails, keep spirits high. This battle will be impossible without enthusiastic troops committed to the cause. Give rousing speeches! Inspire people! Sing a song! Do whatever you need to.

read the valmy setting infopage

NAV NETWORK LOGS OOC PLURK DISCORD

Comments

PLACEHOLDER.

[agogemod]

LITTLE XICI.

[agogenpc]

In the tent that the Commander has secured for COST use, a girl is tied to a center support pole and blindfolded. She is being guarded lightly; she isn't making much of an attempt to escape. Her expression under the blindfold, though, is one of rage and frustration.

The guards will not stop you if you attempt to talk to this true believer, this resolute follower of the Regency. Good luck getting anything worthwhile out of her, but it's worth a try, right? When the main battle is over, she'll be interrogated properly by the Commander. Until then, maybe you can soften her up, make the job easier.

Or, who knows, maybe you can try to be nice, get her some water. She's dirty, still wearing a Prussian uniform, chest bound, hair tied back. It's not impossible to be sympathetic toward this bound and blindfolded creature.

eren yeager | open & closed

[trample]

[ starters in the comments since I'm gonna be a bit sporadic right after posting this. ]

high risk, high reward. (closed to morrigan)

[trample]

"...And that's the plan. The worst of it is just getting into the enemy camp to begin with. After that, it should be smooth sailing. Kick back for a few hours while the assassin takes their sweet time, and once they rear their ugly mug round Go...thuh's tent, you show them what for."

It's a strange thing to put this amount of trust in a stranger. But then again, it's not like she was feeling any different regarding him. He understands that much, so it's enough to simply shrug off any worries for now and let it slide. Hopefully that much they can agree on, but he figures if it gets hairy between the two of them due to any disagreements, he can just keep quiet and it'll simmer down.

"If everything works out, we'll be hitting the hay back at base before the sun's up. That's if nothing goes wrong." He pauses, awkwardly looking at the ground. "I sure hope that's how it goes."

Joel | OTA

[i_swear]

I: Best Laid Plans...

[Materials aren't hard to come by. There's no duct tape to cinch it all together with, but he's handy enough to know how to make do without it. Broken bayonets secured to sticks via scavenged cording and cloth, bottles of alcohol and oil, dirty fabric plugged into their necks. At the fringes of the battlefield, Joel's tugged off his coat and rolled up his sleeves, sweating out the last few minutes of silence before any troops begin to encroach with a good old fashioned dose of sabotage.

He was a Hunter for a long time. He knows how to lay a good trap.

The problem is, he also intends to go it alone. Wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm, Joel exhales sharp for a moment— the only pause he gives himself before jamming a few more scavenged pikes into the grass, lower than the foliage sticks out. Better watch your step.]

II: Hurt Comfort Meme

Get up. [It's the dig of a rough hand around one of your arms, hoisting you up off of the muddy ground.] C'mon. On your feet.

[Joel might be impatient about lending a helping hand to his fellow wounded soldier, but he's not cruel enough to make the pain of any injuries that (you) might've sustained on the battlefield any worse. In his other hands he's holding the reigns to a horse— tall and tawny-colored— impatiently chomping at its bit amidst the deafening chaos of battle. There's no rider on its back, but it's easy enough to put two and two together as Joel nudges you towards the open saddle.] The horse'll take you back to camp. You can get patched up there.

[But just in case you might've assumed he's being a guardian angel on the battlefield, the hand that was at your side extends expectantly, open palmed.] Pass off your weapons first.

III: Wildcard

[OOC: Anything else you feel like doing? Want to combine prompts? Skip to the action? Hit me up at ladyavali or just give me a starter and I'll run with it.]

[northerndragon]

The livery soldiers wear here seems inconsistent... here a blue coat, there a red hat... but even in the dim light of the tent, there's no doubt that the blindfolded young woman is on the other side.

What is "the other side"? At home, every day, Jon is less and less convinced of sides and enemies and petty politicking, more convinced of the need for people to band together. The situation is not quite the same here, and he understands that there are two wars: the French with their smallfolk and the attacking Prussians, and the hidden fight between the Regency and COST. This girl is an enemy in both.

He'd been a spy for a while himself, not quite willing and often full of fear that his ruse would be discovered, and ready to lie to protect the Watch, his brothers. He thinks of how he would have wanted to be treated under those circumstances, and how Mance had treated him, even while suspecting him the entire time.

She's not him, and he has no illusions that she'll tell him anything true, but it's worth the attempt before someone else tries something harsher.

"You must be thirsty," he says, with a little bit of sympathy in his voice, but not standing quite close enough for her to kick.

[agogenpc]

Little Xici does not kick. She will not waste any more energy on these rebel dogs. Her head snaps in the direction of the voice-- a man's, or someone with a voicebox implant to give them a deeper tone-- and if one can glower through a blindfold, Xici has accomplished it.

"I need nothing from you pugnates," she says, voice full of spite. Her tone makes it clear that whatever 'pugnate' is, it's meant to be a dire insult. "Especially your pity."

[northerndragon]

"It's not pity," he says, watching her closely. "You're caught. You can be more comfortable or less. If I were in your place, I'd choose more."

He can see the scowl under the blindfold, but there must be a reason they've chosen to blindfold her at all. He thinks they're not convinced she won't escape or be freed, or they don't intend to kill her... probably one of those. Or she can contact the Regency just as he could contact COST at any moment. If that's it, don't they have a way of stopping it, now that she's been captured?

[agogenpc]

"Are you always so kind to those who want you dead, aggressor?" She spits another insult, one that won't have any weight for another two thousand years. "That's no way to win a war."

[northerndragon]

That one makes a little more sense than 'pugnate,' but he only raises his eyebrows for a moment. It's not much different in impact from one of the Free Folk spitting Crow at him. It's a line on the ground but it doesn't hurt him.

"Not always. It depends which war you're fighting." Being kind to those who had previously wanted him dead was exactly how he'd won something: the lives of as many people as he could save, without regard for which side of the Wall they'd been born on. It was also exactly how he'd lost his own life.

"I'm sorry, I don't know your name, my lady." She may not be one, but better to be courteous here. "It's strange you're calling me 'aggressor' when you're saying you want me dead."

[agogenpc]

"I want you to answer for your crimes against the legitimate government of Lemuria," she says with the rapidfire pitch of someone who's said the line a thousand times. Are any of the words she's saying really her own?

"I am Tamomarr Xici of Little Hama, and I wish to speak to a Chronaic representative; you are impuning upon my rights under the Winhoek Accord."

[northerndragon]

That's a torrent of words that mean nothing to him, and he's reminded again that he really doesn't know as much about any of this as he should or as he would like to. So he tries to remember the words: Lemuria, Little Hama, Chronaic, Winhoek Accord. Two places, some kind of treaty that might amount to an oath, and... something else.

"I don't know anything about any of that. What are your rights under that accord, Tamomarr Xici?"

They might explain the blindfold.

[agogenpc]

She scoffs. "I didn't believe them when I heard they were recruiting from other times and worlds. Tamomarr is my tier name, outworlder. Xici is praenomen." She would be rolling her eyes if they weren't, you know, blindfolded.

"I am due a fair trial by my peers, after my accusations have been spoken or read to me. None has happened. I was bundled in the night by warmongers, and await their torture. Water is the least of my concern."

[northerndragon]

He thinks he understands this, not from the word praenomen but from the idea of a name having a tier. That must be something like Stark or Snow.

"Well, I'm not accusing you of anything, Xici, but I can't speak for the commanders here." There are circumstances, he knows, where he would be tasked with executing her himself; at the moment, those circumstances seem unimaginably distant. "You're wearing the uniform of the people who are invading this area, so I'm not sure who's the warmonger -- though as you say, I'm an outworlder. But I am sure that you'll get hungry or thirsty soon enough, and the cup is in my hand.

"Why haven't you tried to bring me over to your cause?"

[agogenpc]

She spits. "This battle has already happened. The dead have already died. Do not pretend their outmoded concerns apply to us. This battle was lost over a thousand years before I was born."

His next statement actually makes her laugh. "Do you think I could? Is your conviction so fragile, pugnate?"

[northerndragon]

It had been early to ask that question, but there are some answers he might have learned something from, if she had taken the bait. While she hasn't exactly done so in the way he'd thought she might, there's still something to what she's said. This place is a thousand years in her world's past?

"No, but your conviction is firm, and this isn't my fight, either." That's the closest he's come to a lie so far; he's fighting more willingly than most kings might in this situation, because the smallfolk have captured a degree of his sympathy. "You might tell the outworlders of your people."

[lonelywar]

There is much and more that Ashitaka still does not completely understand, from the immediate and palpable conflict brewing around him on French soil to the loftier machinations of COST and its struggles against the Regency. He has in hand pieces to this puzzle, though he felt they only gave him a fragmented sort of look on it. It would not do. To put on blinders and believe only in what is set before oneself is a path that he has seen lead to hatred and destruction. The wise woman had bid him farewell from his people and his home, leaving him only the words to see with eyes unclouded by hate to cling to in his journey.

He had spoken with those that were the same types of gods as the one who had cursed him. He had spoken with the woman that had poisoned that god and sent him, enraged, across his own path. In those situations, his own anger had been sharper and more personal, so it had been a larger struggle to remain calm and stay his hand. As he nodded to the guard posted by the tent and shouldered his way inside, he finds that he was not afflicted with the same anger—just frustration and the same restlessness he had felt since awakening in Jersualem a short while ago.

In a way, she is like a mirror. Similar emotions are written on her face, despite the cloth blindfold obscuring half of her expression. He withholds all judgments, wasting no time in approaching. A few feet away from where she is bound to the support pole he lowers himself to sit seiza, hands resting on his knees. He is silent for a moment, weighing words.

"I have questions." His tone is neutral, somewhat cautious. "Would you answer?"

[horsepowered]

1.
In the end, not being able to reload a musket quickly was not the issue that Chiron expected it to be. Being handed firearm after firearm, relying on someone else to load, that was far easier and far, far better for his own skillset. His eyes were as good as ever on that front.

There were very few misses from Chiron as he went through shot after shot. As hurried as the troop movement was, as unpredictable as men were, they sank into flesh, tearing through, sometimes embedding into flesh and other times coming out the other side.

"Next," he said calmly, handing down his just fired musket and ready to exchange it for a new one.

2.
Shooting was not the only skill Chiron had, and in truth, he knew that as the battle raged on he was eventually better suited for applying his skills in the medical tent rather than remaining in the field.

His own station was meant to help those who may or may not need amputation, depending on the wound and how bad it was. Chiron had offered to take up the post, knowing that whatever his judgement was, he'd be defining these men's lives and ability to earn income. Anything he said, he needed to be absolutely sure about.

"This one can be retained," Chiron said firmly, as he examined the arm of a young man with a concerning amount of shrapnel in his arm. "Someone get a clean basin of water."

[agogenpc]

"The Tamo?" There's the first hint of something in her voice that isn't disdain. She can see the logic of this boy. Maybe, despite his association with these warmonger rebels, maybe he has some honor.

"We were farmers, a kalpa ago, but the Grand War killed the sky, and it rained ash on our lands; nothing grew. My line went to mercenary work-- they called us marr, for we were covered with the ash of our dead lands. My line fought and died in stupid skirmishes on the Little Hama, living short lives of disease without honor, and hardly any credit. But when Tal-Viero united the crosslands, he saw the potential of my grandsire, and gave us a chance to prove ourselves. Now, Tamomarr zygotes are kept in the breeding registry, and we have first pick of military service. A generation ago, Little Hama was a curse, a ghetto for genetic trash, but now? I wear it as a badge of pride."

She says it all with her chin raised, daring him to call her honor into question, daring him to say anything against a speech that clearly means the world to her.

"You ask me why I do not try to call you to my cause? You do not deserve it."

[agogenpc]

Little Xici's answer is immediate. So the interrogation has come, and with it, she is sure, the torture will follow. She reacts with anger to hide fear, her form expanding to give the false sense of size, shoulders rising, back straightening. Her hands grab at the dirt on either side of her.

"I will not give away troop locations or strategy. I will give my life for Tal-Viero. Do your worst, pugnate."

[hakanai]

Yoshitsugu is muddied, a little bloody and feverish. Soon he is going to have to slip away and spend some good time recuperating, having done as much as his body will allow him in the main battle, but before that...

The captive from the mission.

He doesn't even stand once he slips into the COST tent and moves to the area where she's secured, pulling up a stool and taking a seat. Yoshitsugu remains quiet and thought for a while, until he says, in a very matter-of-fact way:

"You're a flawed representative."

[agogenpc]

She can hear someone coming. It's not their bloody commander, she knows what commander models sound like. No, this is one of their recruits. She tenses, waiting, until the recruit speaks.

She sniffs, as though he's told some grand joke.

"I am an assassin, not a diplomat. At least have the presence of mind to insult me based on my failings, pugnate."

[lonelywar]

There seems to be some kind of misunderstanding.

He supposes that she is brave, though, in the face of the unknown. Many would cower and beg and plead. Ashitaka isn't sure which one is smarter, which would broker better results. None of them seemed particularly beneficial in such a situation, however. Regardless, Ashitaka is no strategist, and he still doesn't feel a personal vested interest in this conflict. He doesn't care about troop placements or overarching strategies. He just wants to understand.

"Those are not the questions I wanted to ask. I also have no intention of harming you." Perhaps that would've been seen as a weakness, but he stands by it. Information received under duress could be corrupt, regardless.

"Tal-Viero," he says the words carefully, trying to preserve the pronunciation. "What is it?"

[agogenpc]

"They truly give you no briefings? I thought that intelligence was a myth." She rolls her eyes-- under the blindfold, of course.

She'll leave the 'I have no intention of harming you' comment, for now. She knows a lie when she hears one. Which means his ignorance is probably feigned, but it doesn't matter. She can speak of her General all day. She has a locket, hidden underneath her clothes, with a picture of her dame on one side, and a picture of her General on the other.

"Tal-Viero lifted my line from obscurity. He unites Lemuria under the banner brought down by Divine Kuon. He is the Empire. I pity you for not knowing his leadership."

[hakanai]

Yoshitsugu doesn't sound bothered, but he does sound sharp and quiet when he talks next.

"I know what you are."

It's hard to know exactly what to do with this spy. He personally doesn't think there's much chance of getting information out of this one at all and he is quite content to leave the job of trying to get it to their commander. Yoshitsugu willingly joined COST, going with the flow, and has the basics of their mission in his head. Some basics of their enemy.

If what he has been told is indeed correct, they wouldn't send out an operative who wasn't completely bone-deep loyal to their cause to do the job of an assassin. One might compare them to a ninja, and a ninja without dedication to their Lord was no ninja at all.

"You are flawed, and your mistake will be erased."