agogelogs | THE SKY WENT BLACK,

THE SKY WENT BLACK,

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

S T E A L T H

[You know a really easy way to sabotage someone's food and supplies?

Have animals get into it.

Malia isn't sure if coyotes were a thing at this point in time and she probably confuses the shit out of whatever teammates are with her when she starts stripping out of her armor not far from where they're going to enter the camp, but after stashing it safely somewhere out of sight, she quickly sprouts fur and a tail before sneaking back towards the camp again.

She can smell the food as they're getting closer, storing it all in one place. She doesn't smell anything that would really draw a coyote in, but coyotes are opportunistic by nature. She finds one of the tents, quietly noses her way through the tent flap, and goes to town.

A jug of water spills down around them, and bags of grain are torn open by claws and this food is probably not going to be very good for eating when the time comes.]

M E D I C A L

[Malia is not a medic.

She's useless in a medical tent, covered in more layers of fabric than she could ever want to wear, playing the part of the women of the army. It sucks, and she hates it. She especially hates that she's been relegated to the area of the tents where the worst off people are. Probably because she's useless and being used as more muscle than anything else to whoever may need it.

She gets to hold down someone who's particularly bad off, and she can feel the pain radiating off them in waves. She pauses, focusing like Scott taught her too, and black lines begin to run up her arms and the patient starts to relax, feeling the tension release now that the pain is gone.]

It's okay. It'll be okay.

[She's lying, but maybe she can do it convincingly enough.]

W I L D C A R D

[Hit me with anything you like! Or feel free to PM with any questions.]

[You know a really good way to sabotage someone's army?]

[Kill them.]

[Sure, the mission outline said some crap about keeping them awake and making weird noises and fucking with their food. That's the sort of tactical thinking that Midnighter is more than capable of, rest assured, but he's not really interested tonight. This fight isn't his. This isn't a cause he cares about, however noble or important. He's here to get his, entertain himself before he gets the fuck out of dodge.]

[He doesn't really care who sees him. Stealth is another thing he's definitely capable of, swaddled in black robes as he is, cloth and turban obscuring the majority of his face. But rather than sneak on by between the tents, Midnighter saunters through the darkness, whistling faintly and covered in a liberal splatter of blood.]

[He hears a crash, and instantly is on alert. But it's just a spilled jug of water, and... is that a dog? It's some kind of dog thing, who knows. Midnighter is a city person, and his interest has never been in the animal kingdom. He comes up behind the dog thing and looks over the trash supplies. It's convenient, huh?]

[Still not convenient enough to be suspicious. But convenient all the same. He smiles down at the dog thing.] Huh. Guess you snuck past the guards, huh, little guy? Should'a come later, you wouldn't've had to.

[Because, uh, that's their blood.]

[She could have killed them. But she didn't actually want to.

She knows, at this point, what fresh blood does to werecoyote instincts thanks to Chris trying to train her, so this guy, stumbling in covered in blood is not helping her keep her hackles from getting raised. There's a deep breath as she tries to breath through it, but there's also a warning snarl from between her lips.

It also takes a second for her to realize that he doesn't realize she's an actual person or part of his team, even. He thinks she's just a coyote.

Well, maybe that could work to her advantage.]

[When the dog snarls, Midnighter raises his hand, flipping it the bird.] Last time I help you out.

[He turns the corner, unsheathing his sword, watching, waiting. Someone's coming. He pulls his cowl back into place, hiding the excited glint of his eyes in the moonlight.]

[Tone hushed, he says,] Shoo. Shh. [He kicks a little sand up in the dog's direction.]

[RUDE.

First of all, she is not a dog, she's a coyote, and second of all, no one likes sand in their eyes you dick.

But she also hears someone coming, so she stands her ground, tense and ready for a fight whether the Midnighter is happy with her staying or not.]

What, you wanna fight 'em? [They're almost in hearing distance. Midnighter's grip on his sword tightens.] Go ahead.

[And Midnighter springs forward, sword at the ready. The first to fall barely has time to scream before his throat is cut and he's gurgling to death on the sand. The second has a bit more luck, scrambling backwards and gasping.]

[The blood washes over her senses and she lets out another snarl, before leaping over the body to get to the men behind him, and bowling them over the way that an angry animal is only capable of. She's not going to kill, mostly to tear at and disarm as best she can, but if the Midnighter cleans up after her, there's nothing she can do about it.]

[The computer eats up the data, and suggests the coyote isn't fighting to kill because it isn't hungry. That's consistent with its-- and Midnighter's-- understanding of animal behavior; humans are among the few animals that kill for pleasure.]

[So Midnighter doesn't think much of it, slicing and punching his way through the crowd with aplomb. He mostly uses the wolf dog thing as a distraction, letting it soften up targets while he goes for attacks with more finesse, more lethal finality.]

[All are dealt with in time, but one is smarter than the others; he makes a break for it, running with eyes wide in fear. He's tow-headed, some kind of page, a knight's assistant. Midnighter launches after him in pursuit, but the dog is closer, able, if it's feeling generous, to cut the runner off in his escape.]

[Normally she would just let him go, but the Midnighter can't get caught or their mission is screwed. So the coyote bounds off after him, jumping into his back once she's close enough and tackling him to the ground. It takes a bit of struggle before she manages to knock his head against the ground enough to render him unconscious, before she turns back to the Midnighter and her eyes glow a bright, unnatural blue, before she turns and disappears into the treeline, looking for where she stashed her clothing and uniform.]

Ooookay.

[When a dog thing's eyes glow and it runs away, that's definitely not normal. Midnighter isn't big on animals at the best of times, but that thing's got his interest.]

[First thing's first, though; time to close off loose ends. He can hear the breath rising in the Crusader's chest, and he lobs off his head in one fell strike, clean and quick.]

[She smells more blood just as she starts to shift back, pulling on clothes quickly so as to not draw any more attention with having a naked woman running around. If he decides to follow her she's mostly dressed by the time he catches up with her, and she's not happy about it.]

You didn't have to kill them.

[He smells and hears the transformation, the approach, more than he sees it. Fucking werewolves. He's so sick of werewolves and vampires and all that Halloween shit. He hopes this one isn't completely unstable.]

You didn't have to moralize, but here we are. [That, like werewolves, is another thing he's growing rapdily sick of.] You know this is a war, right? A warzone?

It doesn't matter. That wasn't the mission. The mission was to screw up the food.

[She normally wouldn't be someone to moralize things but these people weren't attacking her until he came in and ruined it.]

You could have compromised the whole thing.

[ inside this medical tent, bellamy's asked himself repeatedly "what would clarke do?" but what clarke would do would be something precise, something backed by medical experience. all bellamy has his name to is a couple of bandages and quick, uneven stitches. ]

[ noticing malia in the tent with a particularly active patient, he makes his way over toward her with the intent to assist. it's a useless action, given she seems to have sedated her patient … somehow. ]

[ brows furrowing together, he's looking to her, down at her arms, seeing black lines shoot down them. uncertainly, ] What are you doing?

[ at this point, he doesn't even think he wants to know. ]

Taking his pain.

[Malia doesn't care about subtlety right now, and eventually she pulls back from the body, reaching up to rub at her wrists. Taking too much pain can be dangerous, she knows that, but contrary to popular belief she doesn't exactly enjoy other people's suffering.

Unless, of course, they're someone she hates.]

It won't do much and it's not permanent, but at least it's something.

[ Cole has also been in the area of the tent where the worst people are. But he doesn't seem to be doing any sort of medical help. Instead, he kneels by the people who are the worst off, those close to death, whispering something to them. He whispers words of comfort, stories of home and loved ones plucked from their thoughts as easily as fruit from a vine. She misses you. He's proud of you. You made a difference. Some of them die. Some of them fall back to sleep. But all of them look a little more relaxed and relieved after Cole talks to them.

He's about to go to the person Malia's next to when Cole stops. The pain's gone. Where did it go? What happened? He looks at Malia with an expression of utter confusion. ]

He doesn't hurt. [ And Cole is downright confused about that. This is different. This isn't whispering words to calm someone down, this isn't being by their side as they take their last breath, there isn't any pain anymore to begin with.

But then he spots the black lines on her arms and puts the pieces together. And Cole just frowns. ] But you do.

[ He takes a few steps closer, looking intently on Malia's arms. Hmm. He doesn't know how he can help with that. He doesn't know what that is to begin with. Not knowing is something terrifying and amazing and aggravating all at the same time. ]

It doesn't hurt.

[And she will take a big step back, because personal space buddy, but as she lets the patient go, the dark lines on her arms fade and she reaches up to rub at her wrists.]

Not as much as he used to, anyway.

[ I'm sorry, were you intent on personal space, because Cole doesn't seem to grasp the concept of it. He just stares at Malia's arms as the lines fades, as if staring will somehow help him understand just how she did that. ]

It's less for you? Good. That's...good.

[ Cole's gaze shifts from Malia's arms to Malia herself, as if staring will help him figure her out. ]

Passing the pain, taking the trauma, it's just shifting if it isn't less.

[ There's no use for Malia to take on pain if she's taking on the exact same amount, if she's just pushing the hurt around. If whatever she did makes it less overall, then that's what matters most. ]

[Whatever you say dude. Malia doesn't really get what you're after, and your staring is making her kind of uncomfortable.]

Sure.

[A beat.]

Can you take a step back?

[She is not afraid to ask for her personal space.]

[ Well that has confused the heck out of Cole. He gives Malia a confused frown before he steps back. He might not understand why she wants him to get out of her personal space, but hey, if it makes Malia happy, he'll do so. ]

Do people not like that?

[ She didn't like it, at least. That has to count for something. ]

Not really.

[She learned that the hard way too, so she's trying to be gentle about it.]

People like their personal space, unless they ask you to be in it.

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THE SKY WENT BLACK,

malia tate | teen wolf (post-6a)

stealth.

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