THE SKY WENT BLACK,

[agogemod]

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Agoge's inaugural TDM.
WHEN? The Battle of Hattin, 1187.
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.

FROM JERUSALEM WITH LOVE;

the horns of hattin, 1187: the holy land

read the jerusalem setting infopage

Your eyes open, and above you is the roof of a tent, a heavy woven material that blocks you from what must be an otherwise glaring heat that is beating down. Near you stands a man - you understand him, but you aren’t sure you are supposed to. Aware as you are that he is speaking Arabic, a trickle of words as he dabs water on your brow, that as you go to reply, you realise, you are speaking Arabic too. Urging you to sit up slowly, and now that you are awake -

“Good, slowly does it. You are meant to have heat stroke. Nothing sudden now. The Commander will explain it to you soon - in here it’s safe, no outsiders can come in. Check your BCE, it will tell you what has happened - ”

As he indicates to the small pack that seems to hold your belongings, he explains: you are in the encampment of Saladin, the greatest commander in all of Islam. He has been fighting the crusading invaders since the death of the Crusader King Baldwin VII. But one of the most important was about to start: you are here, at Hattin, though the enemy hasn’t arrived yet. Not that it means it’s time to rest: this is a war camp. There is much to do. Saladin runs a impressive army, and it wins by its discipline, no idle hands here, and for you, newly awakened to it, there is just as much to do. So enjoy the first few moments of reprieve, there won’t be much of it in the coming days.

MISSION OBJECTIVE

The forces of COST-- allied, today, with the armies of Saladin, though they will never know-- aim to win the day.

This is imperative, because Saladin's victory at Hattin makes his next victory possible: he intends to march on Jerusalem, long held by invading Crusaders, and take his city back. Historically, he wins a Hattin and at Jerusalem. But, the Regency supposes, if they could weaken Saladin in Hattin, perhaps even completely defeat him, he would not be so able to take the city.

Preserve the flow of history. Aid Saladin's army. Defeat the Crusader army at Hattin.

A MESSAGE FROM GROTHIA

>>@CMDR

@ALL I don't have time to explain right now, but the transporters have played havoc on the way in and we think that the - nevermind, the techdacts don't make any sense at the best of times. Your memory has been tampered with, one of the Regency's tricks, no doubt. Price for late intelligence, we didn't know until we made the transfer.

Short of it is, I put you all down as having a bout of heat stroke that knocked you out and that’s the story you need to stick to. Even if you don't want to trust me, you're going to have to follow my instructions if you want to live through the next week. We can do our reintroductions later.

Follow our instructions and we’ll all make it through this with minimal casualties.

Welcome back, soldiers. Good to have you with us again.

WIN THE DAY

MEDICAL

Help build up the army after the Siege of Tiberias.

After this battle, Saladin's forces turn toward Jerusalem, and eventually take it from Crusader control. It's imperative, then, that Saladin's forces are strong, healthy, and most importantly, alive. This is war: there are a larger number of soldiers who are wounded and require medical care to maintain the numbers. Saladin's forces are lucky: their medics are some of the best in the medieval world. But there is constant need for more hands on deck to assist. Whether that’s holding down a soldier to cut off his leg - or dress a wound. Maybe it’s just as simple as a soldier that wakes up from his fever wanting water, there is always something that needs doing.

STEALTH

Sabotage the water supply of the crusaders.

All armies march on their stomach, and in the desert, access to water means life or death. Saladin knows this, and the Crusaders are heading for the largest oasis between Jerusalem and Hattin to replenish their stores. Saladin has placed a line of defense at the oasis to stop the Crusaders. Some truly desperate Crusaders are risking death, attempting to break through the defenses in an attempt to get some water. Your orders are simple: no Crusader should be getting to that water.

STEALTH

You know what else armies need? Sleep. For those brave enough, its been encouraged to try and exhaust those Crusaders. Your orders are vague, leaving plenty of room for creativity: psychologically mess with them, mimic loud animals to wake them up, forcibly introduce these 12th century men to Cyndi Lauper at the top of your lungs. Whatever takes your fancy, just try not wake Saladin’s forces, they still need their beauty sleep. And most importantly: don't get caught.

COMBAT

The Crusaders are here: fight them. Crusaders will in heavy chain mail into battle, often with a padded gambeson underneath them. Aim your weapons for the chinks in the points that quickly immobilize: the throat, armpit, inner elbow, inner thigh, inner knee. You will always want to aim for the veins and joints. This isn't about clean, this is about hard and fast. Battles in the desert are made worse for every hour spent in the gruelly heat.

They fight with heavy sword and shield, and the metal they wear makes them more strongly defended, but also slower; they cannot mount their horses without some help, so if you manage to unhorse a Crusader, they must survive the remainder of the battle on foot. Often if you wounded a horse, it can kill the man riding it.

Medieval warhorses are huge animals that can do serious damage with a single kick; however, by Crusader tradition, many are stallions, which are famously willful difficult to control. Being thrown from one of these horses, especially in armor, is no small thing. This is where by contrast Saladin's army comes into its own. They ride a lighter horse more suited to this kind of warfare, and the cavalry works by spiking in quickly, reigning down an attack, then retreating. The Turks are famous for riding by, and shooting down arrows into foot soldiers before retreating out of range again.

Aside from the knights on their horses, keep an eye on hired mercenaries and others of all classes storming into battle. Watch out for crossbows: a single bolt can punch through thick metal, much less whatever you might be wearing. However, the shots take a great deal of time and strength to load, requiring the user to pull the bolt back while standing on the bow. The weapons are not stealthy, and striking an opponent while they load them is the surest route to victory. More traditional archers are far more difficult to defeat; though their arrows can't cut through metal, they can shoot from much farther away and draw another arrow ten times as fast. Other fighters charge in with cudgels, maces, spears, axes, polearms, and the fervent determination fanaticism brings. Do your fellow soldier on the battlefield a favor: try and take out an archer whenever you can. But for those fielding the arrows, don't stay put, they'll always try and take you out first.

The battle of Hattin is one of the most bloody in the history of the Crusades; famously, it is said that its outcome left the sky black for all the birds hungrily circling the carnage. Your job in this battle is twofold: fight to win, and survive.

COMBAT / STEALTH

Capture Guy D'Lusignan.

History dictates Guy D'Lusignan, current King of Frankish-ruled Jerusalem, is captured by Saracen forces, which later leads to Muslims recapturing Jersusalem from Frankish hands. Help the Saracen war parties ride out, make sure they aren't sabotaged, and attack King Guy's war party. Along with them, you'll find Reynard de Chatillion, another nobleman whose capture will herald a collapse of the Crusader forces. Medieval battle isn't like modern warfare, where soldiers fight on in spite of their leader's capture or death.

A medieval battle ends when one side gives up, or when a leader has been killed or captured. Capturing the heads of an army leads to the immediate death of the battle's morale and will to fight. To win the Battle of Hattin, it is imperative that Guy D'Lusignan and Raynard de Chatillion are captured, as they were in history.

read the jerusalem setting infopage

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC PLURK DISCORD

Comments

[trample]

"Well now. Don't get ahead of yourself," He said this while putting up his hands affably. "I'm hardly the leader here. Hell, anyone idiotic enough to leave that responsibility to someone like me ought to be shot."

Violent what-if's aside, there was work to be done. Eren stood up from where he had been kneeling and did a few taps on the ground with his foot. The wind was blowing the ends of his clothes behind him in an picturesque, dramatic fashion. Beneath them all, down thirty meters meters or so to the base of this hill, were camped a spare few enemy soldiers, no doubt taking advantage of their time here to kick back with some clean water. Not for long. Nodding silently, he fell back a few meters to free the nearby horses from their reins, handed control over them to a random pair in the vicinity, and gave the cart a simple forward push from behind.

"That said, there's work to be done." This time, he wasn't hushing himself. "So get working."

But he definitely wasn't a leader.

[thingpuncher]

Midnighter watches as the cart careens down the hill behind them, and lets out a low, impressed whistle. The kid knows what he's about. Rare in general, and rarer still at that age. He can't help smiling, and it's not his usual shit-eating grin, though it's not quite genuine either.

He dusts a little sand off his robes and stands up a little straighter, more attentive, alert.

"Lead the way," he gestures to the kid. He's not the sort to give anyone an easy time, even if he likes them. "You're the one with the plan. I was just gonna kill everybody and leave 'em as a warning." He says it casually enough that he could be joking, just maybe.

[trample]

"There's no need to get so violent right off the bat." He pointed out, practically leaking sarcasm. "It's hard to feel the same way you do without any personal investment in this here war. Not that most have any real investment beyond being drafted...but all the same, you do get what I'm saying, right?"

There's a pause before he shrugs and moves to the pair of horses he had previously freed. Taking them by the reins himself, he guides one to the man in a black getup, then hops onto the back of the his own with a motion that implied a great deal of experience.

"Whatever. I need a bit of relief. And if that means knocking the lights out of some bucketheads, sure. Why not?" He gestures to the other mount. "That's a decent horse. Seems to be trained well, too. You could do well with it even without trying much. It's probably not from around here, though. Likely doesn't even understand that it's been brought out here to live out its usefulness and die. Not unlike the rest of us. Try not to get it killed."

With that, he kicked the animal into action and raced down the hill.

[thingpuncher]

Another thing to note: the kid knows his way around a horse. So he's not a city boy, huh? Midnighter can count on one hand how many rural people he's run into. This is interesting. This is new. Curiosity continues to build.

Another thing to note: grimly philosophical. Cares about animals. Midnighter builds the profile in his head without meaning to; it's a great way to distract from how the computer always estimates the kill scenarios of everyone he fucking meets.

He watches the kid race for a split second before following, wondering where, precisely, this is all leading. But it's not a highly advantageous situation, down there. He follows close behind, if only to guarantee the kid doesn't get himself killed. Midnighter doesn't care a ton about animals-- doesn't like them, doesn't hate them, he mostly finds them gross-- but people are another matter entirely.

So it's with an ease that comes with hundreds of kills that he swings his sword, slicing through weak points in armor, soft underbellies and exposed necks. It's hot, and these crusaders will take any excuse to cool down, pulling off straps and hot metal. At night, the freeze sets in, and the metal becomes cold and clanking. These men aren't made for battles like this. They don't know the truth; their lives will be lived out for someone else's war. They're cannon fodder as much as the horses, as much as the kid and Midnighter himself.

It makes him angry, so he takes it out on a crusader leaping up to take the kid's horse. Midnighter chops off his hand with two deft moves of his scimitar, and the horse screams as blood goes everywhere.

"Hope you didn't like that shirt, kid," Midnighter says, riding past.

[trample]

While there had been plenty of opportunities to go for the kill here and there, none of them had been followed up. Instead, where there had once been a decently-sized group of wayfarers and knights, there was now only a bunch of curled up, moaning men, flipped over on themselves. Incapacitating them with a few broken arms and legs made things much easier on his conscience.

Though he had his own way of doing things, he had little to say in objection to the bloody mayhem that his pal was stirring up not too far behind. Looks like things were going all right over there. The path to the well was completely clear, and his wagon hadn't missed the mark, having come to a stop just a few feet away from the opening. Eren adjusted his peg leg and hobbled over to finish the job.

"Here goes nothing," he groaned, lurching forward and dropping both the cart and carcass down the drain. "On second thought, it might've been a good idea to save the cart. Not like it'll do any good down there. Oh well."

With the mission nearly over, he was ready to head on back. Or so he thought. While hurrying to his horse, one of the bucketheads he thought he had done in seemed to be trying to take his ride home. While he wasn't gonna have that, there was little he could do in the way of subduing him from this distance. Thankfully, the masked man showed up just in the nick of time, complete with a grand, bloody display. Seems like all that small talk managed to be worth it in the end.

"Not like I care, I ain't paying for it. Saladin is." That didn't stop him from wiping it off with his sleeve. "It'll be scrapped for bandages once we're back." He calmed the animal down while he said this, then hopped on in the same manner as before. "Which reminds me, I haven't yet introduced myself, have I? Not that there's much to introduce. Call me...hm, Kruger. That'll do for now. And you?"

[thingpuncher]

Kruger. Obviously a fake name, but the kid isn't even attempting to hide it. That takes a certain kind of brass Midnighter can respect. He nods at 'Kruger' and dismounts, kicking up a cloud of sand in the process. His horse nickers and sighs, tired, trotting idly toward the well.

"Midnighter," he says, with none of Kruger's hesitance. Midnighter is who he is, what he is, everything. To put a point on it, he finally removes the cloth around his face, shaking some of the dust and blood out of it.

"You don't kill, do you?" It's not judgement, just curiosity. Murder isn't for everybody. That's why it's murder.

[trample]

"It's not that I don't," he said, begrudgingly acknowledging what he had been trying to avoid talking about. "More like I haven't. Yet. Not that I would want to."

Leaving the leg work to his mount, he loosened up a bit. The job was done. Even if, by some unlucky accident, he didn't manage to make it back to base, he still could die knowing he'd done what he had set out to accomplish here. Though it still wouldn't be too satisfying.

"It's easier to just break a leg or two, cause some mayhem, and run off while they drink themselves to death in the aftermath. Their own guts will do them in, not me. I've got nothing against them, myself. It's just being dragged along in someone else's business. And I'd really rather not be a slave to something like..." He finally got a good look at the guy's face. "...That."

His hair.

"Your hair," he voice made it quite clear that he was stupefied. "It's like you're balding everywhere but your scalp."

Not that Eren, with his mop that covered a fair portion of his own face, was any better.

[thingpuncher]

Midnighter can't judge. Killing isn't for everyone. It's why he fights; so everybody doesn't have to.

...And because he enjoys it a whole hell of a lot.

He barks with laughter when Kruger is shocked by, of all things, his hairdo. Not his proclivity for the color black, masks, or murder, not his name or his skill, but his hair. The laughter is rough and deep, clearly from a throat not too accustomed to the activity.

"That's what bothers you about me?" He crosses his arms, grinning widely. "Not the fact that I decapitated a guy two minutes ago? Shit. Got some scruples on you, huh."

[trample]

"Can you blame me?" Eren almost sounded serious as he asked this. "I'm used to all the blood and guts that come with war, but show up to the job with a bad hairdo and you're bound to get laughed at. Least I get a pity pass for the most part. I think I've got my priorities straight enough."

That said, there was a deeper reasoning for trying to find something mundane to laugh about -- there was nothing else to laugh about. If he even dipped his toe into the dreadful reality that, thankfully, was hidden by cover of darkness, he would have to dismount and retch upon seeing the battlefield. Better to take what goodness he could find seriously than to be serious about feeling bad.

"Thinking about it, once this is all over, I might have to get it all cut. With a proper pair of scissors. Don't wanna botch it here and make myself into the company's laughingstock." He paused and swallowed his indecision before speaking up about the most confusing topic of late. "Say, what's your take on this whole deal? It's not every day you're torn from your home, told to fight without much other context than the enemy simply being there. ...Actually, that's not too far off -- but you get what I mean, right? What's the deal with COST or...whatever else there might be to it?"

[thingpuncher]

It's a fair answer, one Midnighter can respect. Soldier's humor, grim and decisive, has probably gotten Kruger through a fair amount of shit. Still, it's funny. Midnighter's twisted grin stays in place, for once more fond than snide. It actually reaches his eyes.

"I've heard of weirder shit," he says, only bothering with the question at the end. So the kid's got a tendency to ramble. Midnighter hardly cares, finding it one more quirk in the plethora things that make normal people with childhoods and lives more interesting. But he's always had a tendency to cut to the chase. "Shit, I've seen it. Time travel doesn't happen a lot, but it does happen. Inter-dimensional travel, outer space, alien kidnapping, shit."

[trample]

"Time...travel?"

Not the strangest thing to come to terms with. He had done more than simply seen his own father's memories, he had practically lived the same life, felt the same pain, dreamed the same dreams. There were certain aspects to his powers that he himself couldn't entirely fathom. 'Outside of time and space' was how his namesake had once put it. Why would anything that Midnighter said be too impossible to believe?

"All right. I'll take you at your word," he said, pretty much accepting the absurdity of it all. Midnighter seemed reliable enough, if just a little bit rough. "Though...weirder shit? What the hell else could there be?"

[thingpuncher]

"You never know what you could be dealing with, kid. Some people are crazy with computers in their heads that tell them the best ways to murder people." He taps his temple while he says it, either underlining his example or pointing to himself. Or maybe both.

"Gotta keep an open mind."

[trample]

"Hoh, is that right?" Eren's pretty quick on the uptake. "I'd say that sounds loads more useful than having flashbacks from your father's life whenever something even moderately related comes up. Can't even walk into the doctors' tent without him nagging at how barbaric the medical practices are."

Though it was something of a hyperbole, it was true in part; Eren couldn't go a day without feeling disassociated with his own self and slipping into someone else's. That was one reason he'd gotten away from that for now, if only to distract himself from his own thoughts with a little bit of action. Too much time in a doctor's shoes and he might have started calling himself Grisha. The sanity slippage was not too welcome, and Eren was doing his best to stave it off at the moment. Thankfully, Midnighter's gruff behavior did wonders to help.

[thingpuncher]

That's Midnighter, helpfully an asshole. He shrugs. "Don't have a father. Wouldn't know."

It's a piece of truth, a kernel from a past he prefers to keep hidden most of the time, at least until he knows someone better. But today, he likes this Kruger kid, and he's in a good mood. Being useful, knocking heads in, that always improves his sense of self.

"What I'm saying is, get ready for the weird. If you've lived without crazy shit like this, you've been lucky, but it looks like your luck's run out."

[trample]

"Hah!" If there was anything that was uncharacteristic of Eren, it was raucous laughter. Something so rare it might've made someone who knew him gawk in horror if they were around to witness it. "That's a fine joke."

It was only the instinct which came with long hours of horseback training that he kept himself upright through his roaring. Though it was only for a short time, it was a welcome relief from taking himself so seriously.

"If my life was a lucky one, I'd hate to see what it's like being unfortunate." He joked back, clearly taking it easier now. "My luck ran out so long ago I can't even remember what it was like. If there was ever a period in which I was fortunate," he thought of the house he once lived in. "It's long since ended."