agogemod: (Default)
⌞THE AGOGE⌝ MODS ([personal profile] agogemod) wrote in [community profile] agogelogs2017-10-07 12:21 am

THERE WERE MASTERS AND SERVANTS,

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Prepare for the historic Battle of Valmy.
WHEN? Mid September 1792, France.
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.




DEPARTING JERUSALEM

The clean up of the battle is slog. A full day of piling together corpses. Noting down famous men and women. In the heat, the bodies bloat and become fetid, and the smell builds until it cannot be ignored. Insects swarm, and vultures blot out the sun, swooping down and taking back what's been left for nature. Stragglers and the poor pick through the field for scattered weapons and valuables to collect. The bodies of important men and women are taken for burial; the rest are left for scavengers, animal or human.

It's in this gruesome scene that the order comes:
PACK UP, GET READY TO MOVE OUT. THE TARGETS HAVE BEEN NEAUTRALIZED. WE MAKE OUR DEPARTURE LOCAL TIME, DAWN.

DEPLOYMENT: VALMY, FRANCE. IT'S GOING TO BE A WET ONE. WE ARE EXPECTING MORE TRANSFERS ON ARRIVAL.
The present COST soldiers that have been in strict cover begin finishing their work, if they've decided to help the army move out, tend to the wounded, or clean up after the dead. There is no sign of the Commander yet, but maybe you recognise some of your fellow operatives. They seem be taking advantage of a particular event that maybe you stopped to see, maybe you didn't.

Saladin beheads Reynald de Chattilion and his words fill the camp as much as the news of their next move.

A king does not kill a king, Saladin says to King Guy, and the orders run like wildfire through the camp: next they take Jerusalem, and it's in this march, that when the rest of the army moves on that COST slips away. A order to fall back in steady increments; when the time comes, Saladin's army is out of sight, marching toward Jerusalem.

In the midst of all of this, COST operatives begin to disappear, here one moment and gone in another. Such a strange sight, more than one native soldier muses, must be the fault of heat exhaustion.

The Time-Step

The transfer begins, and it starts like a vibrating heat on the collar bone, not painful, not to start with. Just a hum of sensation. But the vibration spreads. Veteran COST soldiers often refer to this phenomena as 'the buzz'. The sensation builds, feeling not unlike standing near a great engine, or the wind rattling the branches of a great tree. There is long a moment of motion sickness, and one cannot always be sure if it is you that is shaking from the inside out, or the world that is shaking you from the outside in. It may just be better to close your eyes against the growing nausea as the world blurs out of focus. A star shines in the distance. You may hear the faint rustling of leaves. Some swear they hear voices in this moment, indistinct words echoing off nothingness. Some swear they feel a touch of the divine. One thing is for sure: One moment you are here, and the next, you are not.

The soldier next to you might not have been so clever, when it stops and you find yourself standing in the green fields of France, September 1792. She or he throws up as the vibration fades. Everyone seems to stumble sideways for a second. The world turns, and then rights itself. The heat is gone, replaced with cold and wet.



ARRIVAL FOR TRANSFERS FROM JERUSALEM

It's raining.

You're inside of a tent, (another one), and it already seems to be bustling with movements, they call to you in French, which you understand if you did not already: hurry now, they say, you need out of that cuircass before they're spotted. The rest of the army will be following, and the Prussian army to meet it. There isn't much time to loiter around getting sick in this weather. You have a kit to pick up, and perhaps training to do.

ARRIVAL FOR NEW RECRUITS

The first thing you'll notice is the sound of rain. You awake in a tent that seems to be sheltering against the ruins of a farm house, and everything feels damp. It's a wet September morning in 1792, and when the woman across from you in the tent speaks, you understand it to be French. If you didn't understand French already, you sure do now.

If you ask, she'll explain: you are fighting for France, as the Prussian army intends to invade and sack Paris. You may be a citizen, you may be a soldier; you have risen up in defense of France all the same.

She asks you what role you wish to play in the coming battle, and provides you with clothes and supplies to suit. She won't let you leave until you can pass for a native of France, setting up camp in the rain pouring down between Sainte-Menehould and Valmy.

MISSION OBJECTIVE

The forces of COST have gotten word that Regency operatives have gone to Revolutionary France, intending to turn the tides in one of the most historically important battles in European history. The Battle of Valmy, which decided the entirety of the French Revolution and all that follows it, must be won by the French army, as it was in history.

Unlike the incident in Jerusalem-- you may remember it, you may not-- COST has managed to get here before the day of the battle. Make no mistake; it's coming soon. But this time, you and your fellow travelers have time to prepare.

The French Army has managed to get ahead as well; they've maneuvered around the Prussians, cutting off their supply lines. You and your fellow soldiers are now chasing the invaders as they head for Paris. This is time to prepare and ready your forces. The fight is coming soon.



STAY DRY, STAY SECURE
A few things are strongly remembered about the Battle of Valmy; one of them is the rain. It's really pouring out here, and you're in the thick of it. Rain is a dangerous thing for an army such as this; during this era of warfare, gunpowder was an essential commodity, and wet gunpowder is useless gunpowder. Secure the supplies, rescue supply carriages from muddy sinkholes, steer the horses, check supplies, and try to keep the essential materials for victory dry.
TRAIN UP
General Kellerman and Dumouriez are training peasants in basic military tactics. While veterans make up the core of this army, there are a substantial amount of peasants, and most here have never seen battle in their lives, or ever held a gun. Many are equipped with only rudimentary farming equipment. Help train or be trained so you're ready when the Prussian army arrives.
MEDICAL
Plenty of people need medical attention, not from battle wounds so much as malnutrition and overwork. These are mostly peasant laborers, and they're not entirely fit for battle. Help people get as rested and ready as possible.
ESPIONAGE
We have reason to believe some of the 'peasants' are actually Regency spies. Root them out by seeing keeping an ear to the ground for suspicious activity. They don't know all the words to La Marseillaise? Off with their head! Be careful not to attack time travellers on your side, though!
MORALE
Keep spirits high! Sing, dance, and generally try to keep people from succumbing to fear. Despite the rain and the mud, despite the seemingly impossible odds, the average soldier is full of excitement for battle, ready to fight to the death to defend their freedom.
SUPPLY AND SEEK
Since the French army is behind the invading force, they've cut off the enemy's supply lines. This means that, should the Prussians become encamped here for any amount of time, they won't be able to send for food and munitions from their home country. It's your job to make sure it stays that way. You may see someone riding on a swift horse in a Prussian uniform, attempting to sneak through French lines and try to get word back to mother Prussia. Chase them down, and make sure they can't get their reports back home so a second force isn't sent-- or worse.
BE A COMMUNITY ORGANIZER
This battle is one that's widely known for its popular support-- for the most part, France unites against this invading force with alarming cohesion. Someone gifted with a clever mind, or perhaps a clever tongue, may be able to use that. The French army passes farms and peasant villages along the way-- make rousing speeches, and try to recruit more to the cause, secure donations of food and weaponry, anything you can get.




thingpuncher: (face) (dickprince.)

MIDNIGHTER | OTA.

[personal profile] thingpuncher 2017-10-07 02:01 pm (UTC)(link)
a. I WANNA LIVE LIKE COMMON PEOPLE.
Midnighter runs into a few problems right off the bat. Well. They're not really problems, more like minor, niggling annoyances, but they're there all the same. For one, he can't reasonably cover his face in this... setting, time period, thing. It's not that he needs to, he's got no secret identity to protect, especially not here. It's just that this is very obviously Midnighter business, and he'd prefer to be wearing his work uniform, or as close as he can get, during it.

But he can't without attracting even more suspicion. Whatever. The result is a man in his late twenties, dressed like any other sans-culotte, except his hair is notably not in the current fashion. He's not going to wear one of those stupid fucking tricorner hats to hide it, fuck 'em.

He wanders around the outskirts of the marching army, holding a long pike, with a large hammer strapped to his belt. It marks him out pretty obviously as military, especially when a few stragglers stop in town to gather supplies.

Midnighter isn't the rousing speeches kind of guy. He's the 'make sure nobody gets stabbed, unless it's time to stab, in which, stab everybody' kind of guy. This, apparently, makes him seem like a soft target for the little shrimp who tries to pick his pocket.

Joke's on fucking Gavroche, he's got no cash on him, and incredibly fast reflexes. Midnighter holds the kid out in front of him, kid dangling by his wrist in Midnighter's grasp, held up to eye level.

"What's the magic word, pipsqueak?"

The urchin, looking a little dazed, murmurs, "please."

Midnighter seems genuinely confused for a half second. "What? No. That's not it."
b. SING ALONG WITH THE COMMON PEOPLE.
Midnighter does not know the words to the songs these people are singing, and he's not entirely sure how to fake it. Yeah, he knows French, he mostly knew French before he fucking got here, but he didn't know the national anthem.

Instead, he spends his time barely mouthing the words-- he looks like a shitty Disney animatronic-- and keeps an eye out for the similarly confused. The army marches and sings, and Midnighter spots someone who looks as confused as he does.

The briefing said there would be spies, right? Maybe if he bags one, they'll let him get the fuck out of here.

Someone singing poorly and generally confused may feel the slight pressure of a pike poking them in the back. Not enough to hurt, to pierce skin or clothing, but enough to be noticeable. "Hey. It's 'the blood of the martyrs will water the meadows of France, you jackass."
c. YOU'LL NEVER DO WHATEVER COMMON PEOPLE DO.
Finally, something to do.

Maybe you're riding a horse, or maybe you're on the back of a supply cart. Maybe you see the Prussian horseman racing past the French army as though his life depends on it, maybe you don't. What you can't help but not notice is Midnighter jumping onto the horse you're riding, the cart you're driving, whatever, and shouting, "Sorry, this vehicle has been requisitioned for the Revolutionary cause!"

He's found that when he says shit like that, he can get away with almost anything.

And then he's off, and you might be pulled along behind him as he chases that Prussian horseman, expression one of supreme glee.
d. YOU'LL NEVER FAIL LIKE COMMON PEOPLE.
Before today, Midnighter had never held a musket, but it only takes him about five fucking minutes to learn it. He watches some chucklefucks teach some other losers how to shoot, how to aim, how to load powder and musketball, how to fire, and he watches again and again, and that's good enough for him. He's set. The computer does the rest.

He doesn't have the skill of someone who's fought with a musket a thousand times in dozens of battles, but he's good enough for government work. Or... anti-government work. Fuck, this political shit is confusing.

He sees someone kind of struggling, and grabs the ramrod, the musket, the bullet, whatever they're having difficulty with, without asking. "Here, lemme show you." It's not a request. He's just a generous guy like that.
e. I WANNA LIVE WITH COMMON PEOPLE LIKE YOU.
[Wildcard, bitches! Seriously, do whatever, I love this period and have no problems with whatever shenanigans you might want to pull Midnighter into. If you're not sure, feel free to reach out, I'm [plurk.com profile] wehwalt or pel#5780 on discord.]
Edited 2017-10-07 14:02 (UTC)
hakanai: ([Uncovered] The quirk of his lips)

a.

[personal profile] hakanai 2017-10-07 03:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Midnighter is not the only one who feels the loss of their face covering. Yoshitsugu perhaps feels it even more; before he'd joined up with COST nobody had ever seen his full face with the exception, perhaps, of a few medical folk. Now everyone gets to see it.

His discomfort doesn't show, however. He seems completely calm when he comes across the child dangling in the air and raises a slender eyebrow. Dressed in the clothing of a civilian, with a phrygian cap perched on his head (more for the comfort of a hat than blending in), Yoshitsugu looks completely nonthreatening when he walks up and pats the failed pickpocket once on the shoulder.

"Perhaps the magic word is 'sorry.'" A short pause, and then he adds: "Or something more forward? I've heard plenty of colourful language and threats from the other children around here, there's plenty to choose from."

It's probably a joke. Probably. You wouldn't be able to tell from the look on his face, which is still calm and even.
thingpuncher: (face) (uhhhh no?)

[personal profile] thingpuncher 2017-10-07 04:40 pm (UTC)(link)
"No," Midnighter says, more toward the child than the interloper. The computer calculates there's a 79% chance this guy is a fellow traveler, if only because Midnight can count the amount of Asians running around in Ancient France on one hand. Less than one hand.

The kid keeps staring between Midnighter and the this new guy in a red hat, wondering what's about to happen.

"The magic word is 'I'll do better next time.'" Midnighter grumbles. "Your hand's too heavy, I felt you right away. Way too conspicuous."
horsepowered: (x7. Surprised)

[personal profile] horsepowered 2017-10-07 05:34 pm (UTC)(link)
A.
It was an easy thing, guiding horses around to get them to the makeshift stables being used by the French. A gentle hand on the reins, a firm and soft voice, and when Chiron moved with the things, a set of reins in each hand, he seemed to have a similar gait. His eyes were always to either side, looking out for what might spook his charges.

"Hm," he said, when he turned the corner only to find that all of the available horse housing was in use. "There must be more around here somewhere. I doubt that these are the only horses that are a part of this army."


B.
Chiron rolled on the ground, taking a hit from one of the younger, inexperienced soldiers that he was working with. The boy couldn't have been much older than eighteen. Nineteen maybe. He had a sturdy build though, likely from a lifetime of lifting and moving the heaviest of loads. Chiron hadn't inquired too much about his background, only what his experience was.

Which brought Chiron back to the present. Before even moving onto firearms (something he'd pass on to someone with more experience), there was something more basic to be taken into account: general movement. Being able to elbow and hard shoulder and take a physical blow if it came to it. The hard shoulder was what sent him flying, and why he stood up with a smile.

"I think that's plenty of the basics," Chiron said. His eyes searched for the best person to hand the young man off to. "Now as for aiming and firing..."

C.
It felt...inappropriate, in a way, to participate in the recruitment of food, supplies, and bodies. Being thrown into someone else's war was one thing, but to try and drag others into a conflict with only a surface view of it was another. But that very lack of understanding was why Chiron had wandered off with those trying to gain more for the upcoming battle.

In his lifetime, Chiron had trained plenty of warriors, but he had never participated in the wars themselves. He had lived in the wilderness for the most part, removed from the propaganda of those who launched wars, and so the things he heard were nothing short of fascinating.

He hung towards the back, those with clever tongues having achieved their goal of some extra food and a few more bags of grain.

"Interesting," he murmured to himself.
hakanai: ([Covered] Basked in sunlight)

Yoshitsugu Ōtani | OTA

[personal profile] hakanai 2017-10-07 05:46 pm (UTC)(link)
a. WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS

There are many reasons to feel a little... uncomfortable after this latest transition.

The lack of a facecloth is a very immediate one. Yoshitsugu is standing outside under a small cluster of trees, clad in the gear of a civilian of the current time period. It's a mishmash of clothing topped with what he was told is a 'phrygian cap,' which he's pulled down enough to ensure his eyebrows are covered, but he can't hide any part of his face if he's to avoid looking suspicious. Now, usually he doesn't mind being perceived as a suspicious sort, but here... well, it's not an option.

Water drips onto Yoshitsugu's face. Tree cover is far from perfect, after all. He blinks and stares up, touching a finger to his exposed chin as he does so, and hums thoughtfully. A completely unfamiliar land, a time period ahead of his own and a climate so different to the one he just left?

"I'm definitely going to get sick," he says, technically into the air but from an outside perspective to the person who passes by. Water drips down his forehead as he drops his head to smile a little at them. "Let's hope it's not a fatal illness."



b. PURELY MEDICAL

One skill Yoshitsugu had learned when he was younger was that of giving a good massage. Whenever Takatora had been healing up it had helped the healing process to give him ones in the right area; other squad-mates had benefited too.

Years have passed since then, and perhaps the skill is a little rusty, but so far nobody in the medical area has complained. Most of the poorer people here who need help are suffering from the aches of overwork and a good massage can help sore muscles considerably. Some had been suspicious of him when he'd made the suggestion but every trial he's given someone has worked out well.

...okay, some have yelped when Yoshitsugu pressed too hard, but it had all been for good reason.

"I told you I wasn't going to rip them out," he says, sending his latest satisfied patient away before turning his sharp gaze to the nearest soldier or civilian. "You? Muscle aches or do I need to send you elsewhere in the tent?"



c. WILDCARD

[Anything else you want him involved in? I'm up for most things, just drop a prompt here or PM me if you're unsure. ♥]
hakanai: ([Covered] Intense eyes)

[personal profile] hakanai 2017-10-07 06:09 pm (UTC)(link)
"At least if it's someone who is paying attention," adds Yoshitsugu. "Fortunately you didn't also lose your hand. There are better places to find enough to fill your belly."

He glances at Midnighter, smile widening just a fraction more, and then back at the child. Ah. Interesting.

"Don't try my pockets, either, because you'll only find strange horrors in those depths and even a light hand won't get past them. Those who have more to their name tend to be more careless about their belongings, hmm? Something to remember."

It's a somewhat charitable comment by his standards, even with the 'horrors' comment, but hey, this is a child, and Yoshitsugu remembers what it's like to have little to your name.

He does nothing to help free the child, however, choosing to simply wait.
thingpuncher: (face) (everybody wang chung tonight.)

[personal profile] thingpuncher 2017-10-07 06:17 pm (UTC)(link)
The child looks between them like they're crazy, which, fair. Midnighter rolls his eyes and drops the kid, who lands flat on his ass. He glares at Midnighter, makes a surprisingly crude gesture with his hands given that the little cherub can't be older than eight, and scampers away.

"Kids these days," Midnighter grumbles, because he heard someone say that once on TV. "Hope they don't cut off his fucking head." Or... whatever they do in this place. The 'cutting off heads' thing feels vaguely familiar, he must have seen it in a movie somewhere.
handtowels: (certain ❄ weighing)

a;

[personal profile] handtowels 2017-10-07 06:34 pm (UTC)(link)
It's jarring to see Yoshitsugu's face bare; every time Takatora catches sight of his friend he has to fight the instinctive urge to stare or look away. Like everyone he's wet, but he rarely ever falls sick, so he's not worried — not about his own health, that is.

"Don't even joke about that," Takatora sighs as he approaches Yoshitsugu.

Reaching out, he grabs Yoshitsugu's wrist and tugs insistently.

"Come on. I'm getting you a space in the hayloft."
hakanai: ([Covered] Sure you are)

[personal profile] hakanai 2017-10-07 06:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"For a child thief? No." He shakes his head, and says bluntly: "Punishments which take effort tend to get reserved for 'important' people."

Important from the point of view of those who own land or money, anyway. It was the same back home and would no doubt be the same here, from what Yoshitsugu has already heard about the place... though that might also be about to change.

The air was tense with revolution and war. He could feel it in the flow.

"Though those same people might find their choices... costly, soon."
hakanai: ([Covered] Seeing through you)

[personal profile] hakanai 2017-10-07 07:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Yoshitsugu almost makes a quip about Takatora not being ready to put him in a grave, but holds it back. His friend has been rather sensitive about dark humour since their reunion as comrades under COST, especially in regards to Yoshitsugu himself; it hints at certain things.

But that's a topic that shouldn't be approached yet.

"Oh?" He lets himself be dragged along, keeping up with Takatora rather easily. Their footsteps will synchronise soon enough because, well, they always were a perfectly matched team on the battlefield and such habits never really fade. "Do you intend to throw some of the current residents out, Takatora? They probably won't appreciate it."

It's not a comment made on their behalf, but more a kind of lighter tease.
Edited 2017-10-07 19:09 (UTC)
thingpuncher: (face) (sure ok scuba steve.)

[personal profile] thingpuncher 2017-10-07 07:24 pm (UTC)(link)
If this guy has any concrete idea of how shit goes down here, he's clearly got a better finger on the pulse of things than Midnighter. He shrugs, noncommittal, and takes the hammer from his belt, idly juggling it from hand to hand. It's always good to have a weapon at the ready.

He remembers, very faintly, something about a fight breaking out. The briefing had implied that war was coming. He remembers, with precision clarity, that the worst of that stupid movie took place in Paris, which they're apparently far from.

Fuck, he misses the door network.

"What makes you say that?"
handtowels: (certain ❄ regard)

[personal profile] handtowels 2017-10-07 08:05 pm (UTC)(link)
"You could say that."

Takatora takes a moment to check the direction that the rain falls in, and angles them so that his larger frame shelters Yoshitsugu as much as possible as he takes them out into the open.

"Their complaints about bites were so loud that I'm surprised you didn't hear them from here. I told them that in China," he quirks a wry smile at that, "we have tricks for dealing with bugs, and that made them willing to negotiate."

Between the two of them he can kill them with frost and Yoshitsugu can warm the place again, and as long as they are discrete and employ a bit of showmanship they can conceal the truth of how they accomplish it.
hakanai: ([Covered] Stop being a moron)

[personal profile] hakanai 2017-10-07 08:28 pm (UTC)(link)
"Watching. Listening."

Yoshitsugu is pretty certain this person is one of his own, because, well, COST is his own now, correct? The way the other man had approached the situation with that child and his body language...

Eyes narrowing with good humour, Yoshitsugu huffs a quick laugh and says so quietly only the two of them can hear:

"Our commander's recent message rather implied it, too."

If he's wrong, his choice of wording can probably be explained in a different way. Their direct enemy? It would be easy enough to imply he's one of them. If one of the people of this time? Attribute it to camp gossip.

Yoshitsugu has always been rather good at lying.
thingpuncher: (face) (adult human with opinions.)

[personal profile] thingpuncher 2017-10-07 08:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Midnighter keeps spinning the hammer from hand to hand, not watching its increasingly speedy movements but catching it every time.

"Oooh, ominous," is all he can say to that. "Is there a special benefits package if you can be vague and mysterious? Because you're the second guy I've met who says weird shit like that."

So, yeah, here's assuming this guy's another fucking time traveler.
hakanai: ([Covered] Stop being a moron)

[personal profile] hakanai 2017-10-07 08:56 pm (UTC)(link)
This is taking the protectiveness to a rather extreme level; Takatora is fortunate that Yoshitsugu chooses to spare him the teasing over that particular angle. Instead the shorter man laughs quietly and shakes his head.

"Earning space and trust. Clever."

Getting rid of bugs won't be a problem with their abilities, of course, and getting a nice warm bed amongst people who think well of them will be a good start to their mission. Back home they might have employed ninja to gather information but here it's down to each and every one of them to act as a spy, and every spy needs ears to the ground and as many connections as possible.

That probably wasn't Takatora's main aim in making his offer, of course, but it's a nice benefit anyway.

"Do we have magical tricks for filling our bellies too?"
trainwreckoning: (sigh)

A

[personal profile] trainwreckoning 2017-10-07 09:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Jacob is doing about the same thing as Midnighter, wandering and looking. He spots Midnighter about a second before the urchin tries to steal from him, and that- that was impressive. Jacob never caught the urchin that stole from him (stupid urchins. Stupid Clara.), but it's satisfying to see one of the little shits caught.

He walks up with a sigh, overhearing their conversation. "Not even a bit of cheek? The magic word is 'Excuse me, good sir. I tried to take your wallet, but I'm an embarrassing little amateur and got caught.'"

He leans down to eye level with the kid, turning sincere. "If you're not sure about the target's reflexes, test 'em first or use a distraction. Now this - " He holds up a bit of money in front of him. " - is yours if you meet me back here tonight. Five hours. Hopefully you're better at listening."

He pockets the money and stands, eyes going to Midnighter. "Do carry on, but I ask that he can still walk for my purposes."
hakanai: ([Covered] Intense eyes)

[personal profile] hakanai 2017-10-07 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
"No." Yoshitsugu crosses his arms and watches that hammer move with vague interest. "The only benefits I get are the ones I award myself from it."

And oh, they are numerous, because he gets a whole host of different reactions to the 'vague and mysterious' way of speaking he likes to adopt sometimes. They do occasionally get him into trouble, such as that time he got mistaken for a serial killer and only made the misunderstanding worse, but that can't be helped.

"Shall I loudly declare my purpose to the entire camp instead? I'd probably be the one to lose my head then, but it would at least make quite the sight."
thingpuncher: (face) (lets argue about dumb shit!)

[personal profile] thingpuncher 2017-10-07 11:45 pm (UTC)(link)
So the hammer continues to dance along his fingertips as one would twirl a baton or flick a balisong. He doesn't seem particularly bothered, or even very aware, of its movements. These kind of basic trajectory calculations take up very little of his brainpower, letting the computer take over and going with it implicitly.

"You know what I meant," Midnighter says, rolling his eyes. He doesn't seem too annoyed, though. This guy is weird, but hey, weird is good. Weird is interesting in an often monotonous world. He'll go with it. "You know what I meant. What about watching and listening gave you the heebie jeebies?"
thingpuncher: (mask) (i have a plan.)

[personal profile] thingpuncher 2017-10-07 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Midnighter sees Jacob coming, and a grin crinkles his face just slightly. IT's of the people he liked best from the shitty desert vacation. It's also definitely someone Midnighter never got around to taking his mask off for. He wonders if they guy'll recognize him.

He watches the little give and take between Jacob and the silent Gavroche impersonator, and the smile widens. Even better. The guy's got some serious flair. Nothing wrong with that.

He drops the kid, and the little urchin scurries off to wherever he came from. Midnighter turns to Jacob with a full on smile, teeth and all. "Racketeering is illegal, y'know." He doesn't sound particularly condemnatory.
trainwreckoning: (look)

Jacob Frye | OTA

[personal profile] trainwreckoning 2017-10-08 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
a ) we're feasting on a lord today

Jerusalem was... intense. He's never really had to be in the aftermath, witness that many bodies. Toward the beginning of their trip to France, he just... doesn't have an appetite. He's wondering what the hell he's doing here, wondering if he's left Evie to the chaos he'd unleashed upon London.

The class difference here is keenly felt, especially for Jacob. It seems time doesn't heal all wounds. Jacob is swept up in their cause, listening to anyone who will speak with him about freedom for France. He's civilian, and he wears red, white, and blue things whenever he can, wears a cockade to show his support.

So when it's night, and the army is trying to keep from thinking too hard about what's next, Jacob starts up a song, getting the people to sing along once he taught them the lyrics. It's a clever song, and it seems to be talking about the difference between classes in a humorous, bitter way. Still, none think too hard on the lyrics, enjoying themselves singing and dancing to it. He stops to sit by your character, noticing they aren't dancing. "Not enjoying yourself?"

b ) leave them underground

Jacob's been busy. He hasn't even had time to deal with his grief, his frustration, his hurt. Weirdly, though, as he sits down in the shared tent, he thinks of his father and his mother. He never even got a chance to know the woman who died birthing him.

He looks around, sees that no one's watching him, and snaps out the hidden blades in his sleeves, studying their sharp edges. Maybe he's just like his father, in a way. Maybe this whole agreement to fix the future is just Jacob's way of running away.

c ) the scene wherein they disagreed on who should live and who should bleed

It's dark, the scent of rain still lingering from an earlier downpour. Jacob's been on the track of false allies this entire trip so far, and his main source of intelligence has been urchins.

He happens to be nearby when one man catches one of his urchins going through his things and gets incredibly angry. Jacob sprints between them, and tries to talk him down before getting punched right in the jaw. He manages to calm down the situation fast, though, with his quick tongue. The man stomps off, and the urchin sprints away.

"You're welcome, you ungrateful shit," he mumbles, holding his quickly reddening jaw and watching him disappear.

d ) wildcard

[Make your own option! Contact me at [plurk.com profile] everlark for plotting!]
hakanai: ([Covered] Thoughtful moment)

[personal profile] hakanai 2017-10-08 12:28 am (UTC)(link)
"That's an interesting way of putting it."

His grey eyes still follow that hammer, interest growing.

"I am very intelligent and can perceive patterns very well." There's no arrogance in the way he says this because, well, it's simple fact. A strategist can't be good at his job if he doesn't know his strengths and limitations, after all. "Combine that with the minimal information we were given and the way our chosen side in this battle speaks and acts and I have a decent idea of the way the flow is moving. Not a good one yet."

His smile widens a fraction.

"I also set up that reaction to see how you'd react to the word 'cost.'"

It hadn't been necessary in the end, but Yoshitsugu knew it would be useful at some point. People just couldn't help but react, sometimes, and if it helped him find the comrades he hadn't seen yet? Why not?
Edited (fixing a typo) 2017-10-08 00:29 (UTC)
thingpuncher: (face) (rat bastard.)

[personal profile] thingpuncher 2017-10-08 12:32 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, for fuck's sake.

How did Midnighter end up with the computer in his brain and not this prick? He clearly wants it way more than Midnighter ever did. Not, of course, that he'd wish the procedure inherent in getting the fucking thing on anybody. Well. Anybody he isn't sure of just yet. Whoever this guy is, there's a slim chance he's not a complete bastard.

Midnighter plays dumb, but the glint of interest in his eye is unmistakable. Time to test the computer brain against the human computer. "So you predict shit based on observable data. Cool. Let's make a bet."
dorzalta: (Default)

Daenerys Targaryen | Game of Thrones | OTA

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-10-08 12:35 am (UTC)(link)
I. TRAINING aka KICKING DANY'S ASS
The arid desert soon becomes a distant, sweeping memory, replaced by wetness. People speak in a language she should not know, but suddenly understands, and she's left standing with a dress--puffy and ridiculous looking--in her arms. All around her, people are busy preparing. Yet she... she is frozen to the spot, in a daze.

What is this?

Eventually, after a few dark looks and urgings to hurry up, and after further struggles and cursing under her breath, she'll manage to wiggle into the dress. It's an ugly thing, entirely impractical in the setting, especially when she's handed a sharp sickle and butcher's knife. The sickle reminds her of an arakh, though much flimsier. Chase the enemy, they say. Oh, how she is ill prepared for war and battle in this way.

Still, if you look like a warrior and someone just as out of place as she, she'll likely flag you down as Generals Kellerman and Dumouriez train those unprepared for upcoming war. "Will you aid me?" The question is as awkward as she feels, but her look is earnest. At least you'll have an attentive student.


II. SPEECHES ARE HER JAM
It feels wrong to fight for a cause she does not believe in. Still, to feel so useless is not something that sits well with Dany, no matter the location. Add to that the fact that she refuses to play medic again, and there's somewhat of a predicament: what is she supposed to do?

As they travel between farms and the smallfolk villages, she notices a running theme: many of those who stay behind are as engaged as she (which is to say very little). After one man's attempts to rally the smallfolk fails, she huffs, tucking a chunk of silver hair behind her ear. Of course that sort of talk would fail! Who wishes to fight for a cause when those meant to inspire are enthusiastic, but not much in the ways of a leader? Where is the authority? He might as well've been some drunken fool babbling about the rain.

...Which is precisely why at the next village, Dany is stepping toward the gathering crowd. You may find her standing before a rapt audience, her voice booming as she speaks of fighting against the invading forces, rallying behind their current leadership, taking back what is theirs. She refrains from the Targaryen motto, but her war cry is much akin to what she might've said to her Dothraki, prior to sailing to Westeros.

Once she's done speaking, she rolls back on her heels to catch her breath, beaming at the group of people who seem to have taken her words to heart.

"It's not what I envisioned," she tells you, if you step up beside her, "But the smallfolk here are tired, just as they are in my lands. Perhaps that will make the difference."


III. I'M ON A BOAT SUPPLY CART, MOTHER FUCKER
It's still raining. She's come to accept this wretched fact eventually, despite her misery in being a water-logged dragon queen. Today, sit sits upon a supply cart beside you, nearly dozing in place after restless, sleepless nights. Nodding off would not be nearly as bad if her head hadn't thunked against your shoulder.

After a murmured apology, she straightens, shoving water-laden hair from her face--and that's when she notices it. A man, frantically riding. She squints past the water dripping off her lashes, then reaches to grip your arm. "Over there!"

If you don't listen to her, she'll nearly snarl at you in frustration, before yanking the reins away and directing the horses after the lone rider. Don't be surprised as she leads the horses with a skilled hand; she was a khaleesi, after all.


IV. HOUSE HUNTING
No matter her status in life, Dany has never been forced to survive in squalor. Even when she and Viserys lived off the scraps of generosity prior to her marrying Drogo, there was a comfortable bed, food to be had, and cleanliness. Even as a khaleesi, while dirty she might've been at some points, rain and mud were not the norm. Even upon her capture with the Khals, and as dirt-streaked as she'd been prior to their realization that she was the wife of the great Khal Drogo, she'd not been so miserable. This place, this land she's forced upon...

"No more," she snaps one morning, after another restless night's sleep. There is mud all around her, the pitter-patter of rain bouncing off the tent and seeping into the ground near her, into her pallet despite her best efforts. There are dark circles under her eyes, her hair a matted mess, despite her best efforts to keep it in its conqueror braid. She's cold, achey, and hungry as she tugs her fingers violently through her hair, freed from its braids. "I will not live like this another night."

Are you the unfortunate soul that has to listen to this venting? The one who watches as she first braids that hair, then gathers her meager belongings in preparation of finding better living accommodations?

Good luck trying to stop her, pal...


V. WILDCARD
Not feeling these? Hit me with your best shot! I'll match your format :> Feel free to poke me on plurk or discord if you'd like to hash out some details, as well.
horsepowered: (x7. Surprised)

D

[personal profile] horsepowered 2017-10-08 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
Firearms are....interesting.

The work of reloading is not too different from reaching into a quiver and reloading arrow after arrow, the shots meant to be in rapid succession to the point where the entire process should be automatic. But Chiron has had a lifetime of practice with the bow, and as of now a good...thirty minutes. In that time he's managed about six shots, and while his aim was as good as ever, the rest left something to be desired.

"You could--" he started, when a hand suddenly butted into his work. He looked up, then decided that it was actually better to not argue about this.
horsepowered: (x6. Profile view)

[personal profile] horsepowered 2017-10-08 01:15 am (UTC)(link)
In the medical tent, Chiron had been assisting with an inventory. One had been done before, but clever tongues had added new supplies to the list, and it needed to be updated. Moreover and much, much more importantly, he personally wanted to know and understand what was being worked with in this time and place. The doctors in Jerusalem had novel techniques, things he would have never thought of doing. It was natural to conclude that this place would be the same, in it's own way.

But he had also stopped to watch Yoshitsugu's technique, once it became clear what he was doing. Rusty hands or not, they had a good understanding of the body, and it was clearly doing some good.

"It might be worth establishing a line at some point, if word spreads of your skill."

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