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

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[ a place holder ]

a. MAKE NEW FRIENDS.

[Midnighter's got some questions, like how the fuck he ended up here and how they managed to put more shit in his brain, how he apparently doesn't remember even more crap, and how he wants his stuff back. Really, they're more statements. It doesn't matter. The prospect of taking out his confused frustration on random strangers is appealing. Eventually, he takes the gear they're giving him and leaves the fucking tent. Of course he manages to find robes and a sash in all black. Wrapped around his head, the lower half of his face is almost entirely covered, and his eyes are difficult to see, shadowed in black fabric. It's not quite a leather cowl, but it'll do.]

[He's playing around with a large scimitar, balancing the sharp point on one calloused finger. He doesn't seem to have any difficulty making it stay pointing upward. There's only the tiniest bead of blood at his fingertip.]

Think this is neat, you should see my sword swallowing act.

b. COMBAT / STEALTH.

[He can be quiet if he wants to, but this entire situation is too ridiculous for him to abide by long on the side of common decency. These people are real. The fight computer registers all their reactions as genuine, unique, caught somewhere in that incredible spectrum of thought and feeling that make up normal people.]

[They're also all meideval assholes that Midnighter has precious little regard for. Silent as, uh, midnight, he stalks between the tents on the Crusader's side of camp, sword flashing in the moonlight. This is more snake-in-the-grass than mongoose-vs-cobra, but it's apparently for a good cause. Stress relief, of course.]

[He stalks out of one tent with blood on down his front, making his black robes shine in the pale light of the moon. He hears someone approach, and rushes forward, almost too fast to register to the human eye. He's not as fast as the Flash or Superman, no lie there, but he's still pretty fucking quick. He puts his sword to the throat of whoever was approaching.]

[His voice is deep and grim.] What's the password?

c. COMBAT.

[Midnighter does not, actually, know how to ride a horse, but it takes his fight computer about a hot minute to figure it out. Maybe, like, five minutes. A couple minutes. Whatever.]

[The short story is that he has a horse now. The long story involves a dead guy and a whole lot of blood, some of which is still staining the otherwise white destrier he's riding around on, screaming and charging it into knights. Amidst this bloody chaos, he sees someone lost in the crowd, perhaps fighting, perhaps fallen. He leans down from the saddle, and sweeps them onto the back of his horse (he's named it 'Shithead' because it smells like shit) with impressive strength.]

Destination? My rate is $4 a mile, FYI.

d. NETWORK.

[Eventually, he's gotta try this communicator thing out.]

>>@TRENTCOAT

@ALL a/s/l?

Edited 2017-09-16 08:34 (UTC)

[ A little after dawn, the message is sent out: ]

@ALL:

1 ) Don't bother come looking for me in person, not after the mess on entry. All further communication will be coming through these means. I cannot risk our cover being blown.

2 ) For the millionth time: don't take out the BCE in public. If I have to kill one more well-meaning soldier that just ran away screaming to cover your lack of foresight it's you who will be burying them. Let's all do a little better this time around, shall we?

[ ooc: This is free for all characters to respond too. ]

Edited 2017-09-16 09:38 (UTC)

a. MEDICAL

[ bellamy doesn't really know what he's doing. ]

[ his face remains stoic as he bandages the arm of a wounded soldier, almost bordering on grim. taking care of people in this way isn't his usual schtick. he's the guy who orders people around to give them a sense of direction, gathers his own cuts and bruises trying to protect his people, and is often tended to for being recklessly stupid. but given the orders he's got, he needs to follow them to ensure that he makes it through the next day. he needs to get back to o. ]

[ too bad he runs out of bandage when he's only just started covering this arm. ]

[ with a sigh, he looks over his shoulder to the nearest person. ] Hey. Can you get me a bandage?

b. COMBAT

[ he wishes he had his gun. making do with a spear, he does his best to mimic the movements the soldiers have taught him in the span of just a few minutes. keep his feet light, arms loose — this is the way of the grounder, he thinks. maybe this is the way he should learn to fight, instead of hiding behind the barrel of a gun. ]

[ speed, endurance, strength — bellamy doubts he has these, but he has to believe in them now. the technique required to move at the speed of light, to be agile despite his bulk build, isn't an overly strange new experience. he's just missing the usual people at his back. ]

[ he doesn't think. moving quick, he does what he's come to do best — infiltrate. when an archer's getting ready to shoot off an arrow at one of his people — or the team here, they're not his people yet — he pierces them with his spear. it's awkward and heavy, but bellamy makes do with it — unfortunately for him, with his back turned, he doesn't see another fighter's coming his way, armed with an axe. ]

c. NETWORK

UN: @BELL

@ALL: Roll call. Who the hell is still alive?

If we are to be soldiers, shouldn't we be brave?

Bravery and stupidity are different things.

[ Ava is a robot wearing human skin under her medic garb, yet even here she finds it difficult for her to pose as a him. The male medics keep a tight hold on the supplies, diligently guarding precious tools and balms from the clumsy hands of their female colleagues who surely would put them to waste.

As such, she obediently sits on the ground beside an injured woman in Kurdish wear, her own bearing eerily calm in contrast to her patient's labored breathing. Even the way she turns her head to him at his request is preternatural, too perfect for a living thing. She rises to her knees to grab a roll of bandage from beside a male medic, who shoots her a look, which she responds by directing his gaze to Bellamy. An unspoken exchange, a nod of understanding. The bandage she tears in two, then hands one half to him, the other for her patient. ]

Thank you. Without you, I wouldn't be able to.

Edited 2017-09-16 12:40 (UTC)

Then, the screaming soldier. Is he stupid or brave?

[ A beat. ]

Or is he a deserter?

Neither. He is ignorant and a product of his time.

And now, an unfortunate liability to our greater purpose.

Unfortunate.

All liabilities are unfortunate, isn't it?

Most usually yes. Some can be reasoned with. In this case, it is beyond anyone's understanding and it attracts attention.

I am sure you have realised by now what happens if we gather too much of that.

Ignorance is a product of stupidity and cowardice.

[ The unspoken consequence of that statement: such soldiers are unfit. But such is man. Man is imperfect, lacking, unfortunate. ]

Don't worry. I will not be stupid. I will be brave.

[ Ho boy. ]

And how are you going to accomplish that?

Edited 2017-09-16 12:56 (UTC)

I will care for the severed ones.

[ tap, tap, tap. ] There will be more severed ones. A great deal more. This battle is ugly, by either account.

Are you ready for that too?

Yes.

Why do you call a battle "ugly"?

>>@TRENTCOAT

@BELL killing my optimistic outlook here man

@BELL also still alive

[ Archers really aren't meant to be in the thick of it--that's kind of the point of a ranged weapon, after all: range. But the lines shifted suddenly, a charge breaking through, a flank sweeping around to meet them, and suddenly Kate went from a nice safe-ish distance with some time to choose her targets to right in the screaming, stinking, bloody center of things. She's picked up a sword off the ground, the long straight blade of a fallen Crusader, and is doing a pretty okay job fending off her immediate attackers, at least in the sense that she is still alive.

When she's suddenly swept up off the ground her first reaction is to lash out, and Midnighter will get a knee jammed into his ribs before she realizes he's very clearly not attacking her. And then even more surprising, that he must be out of place here, too. ]

Man, that surge pricing is a bitch. The high ground over there [ she points over his shoulder ] and step on it. I'll tip you twenty if you can get me there without dying.

@BELL Consider my hand raised. How are you doing?

Edited 2017-09-16 14:23 (UTC)

[The fight computer in Midnighter's brain registers a couple things about this stranger in the breadth of moments: they're clearly physically fit, but unused to melee combat. They've got good aim with their sword, but they're no expert. They've seen combat, but not like this.]

[He's a sucker for an underdog. More than that, he suspects someone so oddly balanced, as far as skill is concerned, is from another time. Someone like him. Based on the information he's gleaned, the fight computer calculates a likelihood of 47% that they're from some future time, with an addendum that 'more data is needed' to make an accurate estimation.]

[So he scoops his poor fellow soldier up onto the back of Shithead and asks her a question only someone from another time would catch. Her answer makes the fight computer tell him something he already knows: Probability of this person being a time traveler is 100%.]

[His grin glints out from under the dark fabric swaddling his face.] Anything for an extra buck. You'll have to excuse the bumpy ride; I only learned how ten minutes ago. Heyah! [He redirects Shithead, crushing some poor footsoldier underfoot as he goes. Was that person on their side? Does he really, genuinely care? Signs point to no. He pulls out his scimitar and drives the horse on one-handed.]

You better have good aim, kid.

[ Excuse, fight computer, Kate is excellent at melee combat. Just-- yeah, nothing like this. At all. Who the hell wears armor like this and jesus f. christ medieval swords are big and heavy and oh my god why do there have to be so many horses??? ]

[ Kate's untangling herself from the bow slung across her back, which is no small feat in itself given how many pieces of cloth and bits of metal and leather there are for it to get stuck on and the fact that she's holding on tight with her knees and one hand gripped white-knuckle-tight in the hem of Midnighter's cuirass as they charge through the field. Still, she has time to scoff, loud enough to be heard through veils and stuff. ]

Good aim? I've got aim in spades. Buckets of aim, scads of aim. Aim is my middle name, and... yeah, I'm good, okay? I'm real, real good, I promise. Hey, is that stupidly big banner there probably the crusader king?

Medical

[Heatstroke. A quiet scoff escapes the sage.

While the claim is an absurd lie at best, many of the soldiers here within this tent seems to believe it easily. Is it because of Balder's fair complexion and equally fair hair? Perhaps. The Muslims never quite seen a man like Balder before. He's an oddity here within the encampment, one of wonder and thankfully not of malice. He does well to conceal both his identity and the strange communicator upon his person. The last he needs is to be caught within this web of lies.

Balder doesn't have the option to remain idle as there's need for healers. The Lumen Sage quickly offers his aid to the doctors trying to hold a hollering patient down. He's gentle and firm at the same time, his grip is strong as he holds the wailing patient down. The coppery scent of blood reaches his nose once the doctors starts to undress the warrior's wounds. Balder has seen such gore before but even he flinches in sympathy once that nasty leg injury is revealed.]

Just two inches to the left and he would've been dead.

[Balder comments once he picks up a sanitary white cloth. He wordlessly volunteers himself to aid this man, a testament to the Lumen's boundless kindness.]

Be still, I'll ease the pain. [For someone dressed in such white lavish robes, Balder seems not to mind getting his hands dirty.]

Combat

[In a flurry of swords and a splatter of blood, Balder brutally cuts the charging crusader down off his steed. An inelegant growl escapes the sage as he stabs his golden glaive right through the heavy armor. Vigrid is known for this sages, especially the Lumen Sages who uphold the honor and integrity of the Holy Church. While he indeed a 'traitor' who've crossed into enemy lines considering his affiliation with the Catholic Church, Balder has taken it upon himself to defend the armies of Saladin against the Crusader threat.]

May Jubileus Grace You. [He whispers to the dying crusader before turning his sights towards his next foe. Balder flicks the blood off his glaive uncaringly as if merely fixing a strand of his hair. The brutality of war is known to him judging from his harden gaze. When another armor bound crusade charges forth upon horseback, Balder races toward him head on.]

[Some might think this white clad warrior is absolutely mad to be charging forth but Balder has a plan. He lifts his glaive high and prepares to throw it like a mock javelin at the incoming crusader. He lines the shot just right first before suddenly throwing his glaive with all his might. Like an arrow, the glaive pierces right through the Templar with blinding speed and is properly nailed to an adjacent stone rubble a few yards off.]

[Satisfied with his kill, Balder was about to summon the glaive back to him until suddenly two more crusaders arrive on horse back brandishing swords and axes. While he could easily avoid their strikes for a time, it certainly looks as if the Sage could use some help.]

Edited 2017-09-16 15:59 (UTC)

Put that down.

[It seems that despite how impressive this sword balancing feat might be, Balder remains unimpressed. The Lumen Sage been keeping his eyes on this arrogant gent as he parades outside the tent. He doesn't say anything to this man for a long while, just studying him with a well-trained gaze. Unlike the other soldiers of Saladin's impressive army, this man feels just as foreign as himself. That means Balder is indeed not the only one dragged here unwillingly.

Does this comfort him? No. Balder's thoughts lie with Rosa and his young daughter.]

If you accidentally kill yourself, that will be your own fault.

[Much like this man, he wants his things back. While he certainly found a suitable enough garbs, all white with veil and all, Balder damn sure wants his things back. He's a Lumen Sage, not some Saladin foot soldier. The poor man is a little testy about being here but Balder voices that truth to no one.]

Fuck if I know. I thought history was just the Nazi aliens who built the pyramids.

[A total lack of any childhood means a total lack of any childhood education. What Midnighter knows about the greater shape of the world, he's learned from TV and tindr.]

[His sword comes up from the sea of panicked bodies Shithead wades through with a bit of cloth and-- is that intestine? He shakes it off without a second thought. Fuck that guy; he was in the way.]

You get a bullseye, the ride's on me.

[Midnighter is a mature adult who says mature adult things, like:] Make me, Fabio.

[He's... never been a people person. When every problem is a fight, you come in swinging. It's like that hammer / nail problem, but with more punching. Not that he's going to swing his fist at whoever this prick is.]

[Not yet, anyway.]

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THE SKY WENT BLACK,

ADDITIONAL.

midnighter | dc (rebirth) | ota.

>> CMDR: DAWN ANNOUNCEMENTS

bellamy blake, the 100.

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A.

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>>@CMDR

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c.

c.

un: @tempest

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Balder | Bayonetta 2

A.

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