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 Dr. Yulia Naraantuyevna KhulanovaShe squints her eyes, looking above at the sky, searching the gaps in the cloudcover that would grant a glimpse at stars or constellations - some vantage that she could use to orient herself. Or more accurately, place the island they now approached. Her eyebrows raise as she snags a glimpse of the arcing neck of Cygnus. Her pencil dots the page, sketching the already vanishing memory of the stars she'd mapped. Yulia happily snaps the journal shut before an errant wave can steal her triumph away. This was it - another expedition to a mostly uncharted territory. Her heart sinks a little as her gaze finally takes in the things that are neither the stars nor her journal. Another expedition with some significant differences. The weight of her revolver is hard to forget, and the strange company is a fast reminder in case she does. She'd been worried she'd be stuck in in a bunker translating German communiques when they'd sent her West, with SMERSH at her side scrutinizing her every move. This was not expected but still not entirely the return to form she'd been hoping for. As the French put it, such is life. If they were to be cooperating, she figured she'd oblige, so with apologies to the Comrade Sergeant at the head of the boat, she clears her throat and engages the Brits, "Phantom or not, all's the more pity the fascists put boots down, yes?" Her English is not entirely fluid, as most of her conversations have been written but more than serviceable, "It would have been a sight in the daylight." ~  Name: Doctor Yulia Naraantuyevna Khulanova Nationality: Soviet (Ethnic Evenk) CO: Attributes: Agility d4, Smarts d10, Spirit d8, Strength d4, Vigor d6 Skills: Climbing d4, Fighting d4, Investigation d8, Knowledge (History) d8, Knowledge (Archaeology) d10, Knowledge (Occult) d6, Knowledge (Psychology) d6, Knowledge (Cryptography) d6, Knowledge (Soviet Doctrine) d4, Medicine d4, Notice d8, Riding d4, Shooting d4, Stealth d6, Survival d6, Knowledge (Science) d6 (25/25) Pace: 6, Parry: 4, Sanity: 6 Toughness: 5, Charisma: 0 Gear: Ammo Pouch (x2), Backpack, Bandage, Bedroll, Binoculars, Mess Kit, Pistol Holster, Socks (4 pairs), Binoculars, Leatherbound Map Case (x2), Suspenders, Web Belt, Winter Boots, Winter Gear (cloak/parka), Leatherbound Journal (x6) Edges: •Linguist: Starting languages equal to Smarts (French, German, English, Greek, Latin, Mandarin, Tibetan, Hieroglyphics, Arabic, Slavonic) plus a chance to learn unfamiliar languages/dialects after a week of exposure. •College Girl (History): +4 Skill Points for Smarts Skills (History +2, Archaeology +1, Occult +1) •Hot Blooded: +2 on any Vigor rolls to resist Fatigue & ignore two levels of Fatigue inflicted by cold. Hindrances: •Slow: Draw two cards in combat & act on the worse of the two. •Under Suspicion (Minor): -2 when dealing with Party Faithful, due to heritage & academic career •Quirk: Constant Digression Armory: Unarmed Strike d4 (Str) Finka Knife d4 (Str+d4) Nagant M1895 (7.62) d4 (2d6-1, 12/24/48, RoF 1, Shots 6, Revolver, can be silenced) •College Girl & Hot-Blooded purchased through Hindrances. •Seasoned advances: Smarts d10; History +1 & Investigation +1; Notice +1 & Investigation +1; Survival +1 & Knowledge (Archaeology) +1 •Saxemberg Advance: Tweaked stats, advanced Survival to d6, Cryptography to d6 •Jeremiah Advance: Science d6; Stealth d6 Tomes •Das Todtenbuch (2/2) 'Successfully reading does not convey Knowledge (Mythos) nor does it incur a Sanity penalty on the reader. It does, however, provide the reader with a special Benny that can only be used on Knowledge (Occult) tests.' •Suta Milam Bar-Do (1/8) 'Chinese (-2) or Tibetan (0) with 8 successful rolls required to study. Successful study increases Knowledge (Mythos) by one step as well as reduces Sanity by one respectively. Additionally, readers may then attempt to study and learn spells including 'bring pestilance', 'implant suggestion', 'summon plague' and other incomplete rituals.' Concept: Soviet Academic Conscripted For Adventure! Ambivalent fucked around with this message at 07:00 on Nov 23, 2016 |
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Sep 29, 2016 08:10
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Yulia The island's look is suitable enough that she can only imagine it chose it's occupiers rather than the other way around. Not a scant moment into her reflection on that irony before a wave ruins it all and sends an Englishman into the drink. Minutes later, when they're on the shore, after she's ensured the safety of her own pack and wrung her own belongings 'dry', Khulanova wordlessly takes up Sebastian's book from his hand and holds it over her head. She eyes it thoughtfully, then hands it back, tersely delivering her diagnosis, "Bind it, leave it in the sun. It will live." There's little enough warmth in the reassurance - possibly she's more concerned for the journal than it's author. Turning, the doctor eyes the island itself, taking a few steps off and up the sand. Over her shoulder, she looks back to the soldiers discussing the course of action, and hesitates about speaking up, but finally decides, "I apologize if it need not be said but the harder path is the one less traveled, yes?" Or, the one with less Nazis, she means.
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Sep 29, 2016 21:08
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Yulia As they lurked in wait outside the hatch, waiting on the soldiers to return with news, the good doctor had taken her revolver from the holster - checking the firearm for probably the thousandth time since it had been issued. Slick with sea spray, she'd imagine. Shouldn't be enough to effect the mechanism, right? She eyes it thoughtfully, studying it as though she might find some new facet that she hadn't noticed yet. But it is as it ever was - a durable Soviet issue weapon, reliable if nothing else. The Evenk looks up to the rest of the academics, almost driven to conversation in spite of their circumstances. Loose talk seems... inappropriate in the context but at the same time. The British Sergeant spares her from this, emerging from the hatch with news. So no harm, but neither had they made progress. Waiting until at least Rostov and Kuznetsov have returned to the surface, Yulia does speak up, querying the emerging soldiers, "What is this entrance with these heavy doors?" Asking why people have built the things they did is a part of archaeology - this is not that, but it still prompts her to question the Nazi construction.
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Sep 30, 2016 13:39
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Yulia She'd dropped to her haunches and taken out her journal, using the relative shelter of the passage to begin sketching out the shape and topography of the island as much as she could tell. A line for scale, the dimensions. A mark for the hatch, for the ventilation point, the cliffs, the beach landing point. At Grace's excitement, the doctor stands but not too quickly. As she watches her face, Yulia sighs, "It is the American, isn't it." She folds up her journal and tucks away the stylus. Soberly, she approaches the blast door porthole to join the Englishwoman, marveling at the Yankee separated by armored glass. "Should we join him?"
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Oct 1, 2016 02:21
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Yulia It's hard to keep from being amused by the American's animated emoting through the blast door. There's a long pause of non-reaction, and finally she cracks a smile and nods. Turning back to the rest of the auxiliary, Khulanova raises a hand, "I will go." Not finding fascists around the corner has eased some of the tension for her - plumbing abandoned sites is more familiar to her than raiding bases, but the difference is finer than one might think, once you find no one there. So she climbs back topside with more ease than she might have earlier, into the brisk south Atlantic evening and begins to follow the trek they'd made to the ventillation shaft. Kuznetsov gets a nod and she turns to Harry and the others, "The American has made a circle - he is at the blast doors. I believe, if I understand him, he wants assistance opening the doors."
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Oct 1, 2016 02:48
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Yulia Looking from Kuznetsov to Willis and back, the doctor lifts her chin up, "I have mapped the island we've seen - I will come." She has had her fill of standing about, and the prospect of seeing more of the facility is enticing - and if nothing else, she does at least read German.
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Oct 1, 2016 03:10
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Yulia She's dutifully counting her paces until they arrive at the door, tapping dashes into the margin of her journal until they come around to the door - trusting the soldiers in front of her to make some terrible bark if they encounter something. Then finally, she looks up from the page, taking in the sight of the workshops and the tracks. Machine shop, for the facility for sure but... The Evenk wrinkles her nose, then looks to Kuznetsov, "Aммиак?" Again, for the Americans, "The smell. Like ammonia?"
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Oct 1, 2016 03:52
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Yulia There's a long moment where nothing is said and she simply stands at the entrance, eyes piecing together the scene before them. Her movement slows until she freezes, as the realization of what she's looking at sets in, she still can't help but look away. Her nose crinkles again and finally she reaches up and rubs at her eyes, as they begin to itch. She turns away, closes her eyes and looks at the ground, taking a few steps back and away. Rubbing at her eye again, she murmurs, "Mersi." A boon of Leningrad, she supposes, was that frozen bodies did not have the same... fragrance. She goes quiet, pacing for a moment, before taking a deep breath and going quiet. She does not know machines especially well, and allows the others to talk over the situation - they did not need her expertise. With her back turned to the others, she busies herself with taking her journal back out and working on mapping the facility.
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Oct 1, 2016 05:22
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Yulia She looks up from her journal upon being addressed directly and nods wordlessly. The doctor folds up her journal and ties it tight before steeling herself and moving to generator, gingerly avoiding stepping near anything... unpleasant. Moistening her lips, she leans over and raises her flashlight, brushing hair from her eyes, "This... um, diesel. First line. Second line. This one... rear top... The word used, it means like 'safety.'" She stands back up and scans over the other labels, running through the meaning in her head. doctor yulia 'babelfish' khulanova
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Oct 1, 2016 05:38
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Yulia She shoots the Sergeant Willis a rueful grin when the generators come to life - the product of job well done. Allowing a few moments of celebration, she pats the American on the back and heads back out to rendezvous with the remainder of their force. Emerging back into the workshops that have become the de facto commons area, the doctor crosses her arms, listening to the Sgt. Barton-Morewood, patiently waiting for her turn to speak. "Sir - I do not have theories yet, I do propose we make this our... base camp. Papers, maps, written things should be brought here to examine. Equipment that is..." She hesitates on the translation, "...not the standard should also be returned. In light of the base's apparent state, it is like a dig, yes?" She does her best to hide any enthusiasm in that comment
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Oct 2, 2016 02:11
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Yulia She holds her flashlight and pans around the interior of the vault, taking in the dimensions of the room, and the destruction of the contents. Steppinig out into the room, the Soviet turns in a circle, until the beam of her torch rests on the doors they've come through. Her eyes narrow. A notion occurs to her but... that would be absurd. To the rest of the force that had accompanied her to the vault, "We should stay close. I have..." She feels about for the proper word, "...concerns." Still eyeing the marring of the blast door with intense scrutiny, she has to tear herself away from it to even begin considering other things. Yulia leans over and begins to collect salvageable pages of documents. The grisly scene of the generator room, the state of the vault, the configuration of the doors. The doctor shakes her head, speculating aloud for the benefit of the others, "When you discover a site, you are piecing together a picture of a place in time. There are clues and facts that...give weight to your notions. Here, I have the beginnings of a notion - I do not know what it will be, but the silhouette is... переподвыподверт." She looks around. The word has no good translation, and without the other Russian native speakers. "What is... complex and ominous, but more so." She finally nods to the blast doors for the others. "As I said, we should stay close - there could be traps." With that said, she returns to sifting through the debris, with her hand closer to her holstered revolver. Ambivalent fucked around with this message at 08:22 on Oct 2, 2016 |
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Oct 2, 2016 08:20
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[15:10] <ambivalent> !wild d8 Notice [15:10] * AchtungBot rolled a (1d8) with wild die for ambivalent and got ( 7 5 ) Results: 7 [15:10] <ambivalent> !wild d8 Investigation [15:10] * AchtungBot rolled a (1d8) with wild die for ambivalent and got ( 3 14 ) Results: 14
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Oct 2, 2016 20:11
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Yulia She quirks her jaw here. 'Black Sun' is familiar - she recognizes the the shape of the name on the page - either from Professor Rorikh's writings or from the SMERSH translating work she'd been doing Kuibyshev, it is hard to remember. Some Bavarian group like Professor Rorikh's theosophist circle, maybe. Conferring with the two Brits, she murmurs, "Fascism inherently relies on men being more than men - the right to rule is derived from being set apart from nature, and a supreme right to rule necessitates a supernatural or religious belief surrounding a chosen person or people. Gathering relics... Archaeology, iconography. It is part of kulturkampf, to control the history and knowledge of the world and how it is revealed to people. This way you can tell people the Reich is not a new thing, but a culmination of an old thing, build the mythos of your Nazi regime by working backwards." The Russian shrugs her shoulders, "This is what they would tell you in Leningrad." She sounds less convinced. She moves her flashlight around the vault again, checking the dark corners of the room with less certainty, "That is not what this is, though. This is not a place of kulturkampf. This is a place of... vernyy - the Faithful. To have such things, in a facility in such a place..." She trails off. Bradley and Grace know what she is inferring. Khulanova looks down to one of the papers, "What is 'one hundred crates of the fallen'?" Shaking her head, "Our superiors will want all of this, I should think."
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Oct 3, 2016 01:05
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Yulia With the evidence in the map room, and considering the state of the base, she's growing more and more confident in her theory of true believers. There is the occult angle to consider, but not to be lost in this all is the mundane strategic importance of what information they can glean from the remaining documents - which is why she has set to scribbling furiously in her journal, even as Grace and Bradley update their commander. Dimitry's cry is the first she looks up from her notes for some time. There is a slow move to place her hand on her revolver until her mind attempts to comprehend what it is she's seeing. Her fingers rest on the firearm, never drawing it, even while her throat dries and her eyes widen. She doesn't shout or blink, or move much at all. At the very least, her legs start to function and she succeeds in compelling herself a few steps away from the center of the room. [06:45] * AchtungBot rolled a (1d6-2) with wild die for ambivalent and got ( 0 2 ) Yulia has gained a level of Fatigue
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Oct 5, 2016 11:55
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Yulia Still shook, she watches Sebastian and the Sergeant with some bewilderment. Had they seen it the same as she had? Had she seen it that way? Rubbing at her eyes, stirring herself back to alertness, Yulia does ultimately draw her revolver. The doctor shakes her head at Barton-Morewood, "And we will be safer here? We go together."
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Oct 5, 2016 23:13
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Yulia She can't be sure what it is she sees but the experience at the vent had steeled her for something unsettling - done a little to prepare her for... something awful. It is perplexing, and awful, and monstrous, but she resolves to table the taxonomy of the phenomenon for another time. With a shaking hand, she raises her revolver to face the door. Standing in her place, she fights to keep the gun steady - a weapon she barely knows how to use but a source of great comfort at this point. Tearing her gaze away for a moment, she looks behind for her comrades, the other Soviets, then back to the door. Forcing a calm into her voice she doesn't feel, she is eager to heed the call to retreat, "Yes, sergeant. To the workshops. Everyone!" Aced it, even with my fatigue penalty. [03:19] * AchtungBot rolled a (1d8-3) with wild die for ambivalent and got ( 8 -1 ) Results: 8
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Oct 6, 2016 13:27
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Yulia There's relief, and guilt already creeping in - where had the others gone? It's just her and two of the English. There's only three? There should be more. Where are... There was a plan. The plan was the workshops. They named it base camp. That's why you have a base camp. Anything goes wrong - base camp. She casts her head about in a panic, looking for others, hands gesticulating wildly as she tries to get a grasp on her options. That's when she catches sight of movement and her heart lurches, revolver waved haphazardly in that direction. Recognizing Irakliy for what he is, the doctor attempts to holster her pistol and rushes forward, "<Move, we have to move. Come on! There is a plan. We're going, come!>" There's a few stops and starts as she tries to figure out how she can pull her comrade. All she knows is that she can't just... leave him there.
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Oct 6, 2016 22:27
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Yulia "A bigger gun? Are you..." She looks agog. Maybe to a soldier 'get bigger gun' makes sense, but to her, it seems folly. She stomps a foot but then relents, her heart following them before her head can have her mouth deliver a dissenting word.
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Oct 7, 2016 04:12
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Yulia Having already been skeptical of Irakliy's Bigger Gun plan, she eagerly accepts the Sergeant's rally command, giving an affirmative nod. The doctor grips her revolver in both hands and casts her eyes about worriedly, moving up and sticking close to the Englishman as she can without actually hugging him. No time for thinking right now, Dr. Khulanova!
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Oct 7, 2016 09:13
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Yulia Shaking her head, she lingers near to Izoldah and Irakliy, still trying to digest the moment. Even having in been in Leningrad, her exposure to the violence had been minimal - and this exposure was more than violent. It was... Well, she had read Thornberg's writings on the dehumanizing effect of war, but somehow she felt that was a bit more literal. That had... not been human. Or maybe it had been, which is more unsettling. Finally stirred out of her reflection, she calls back down to Ronnie from where the Soviets had gathered themselves, "...the power room. It was in there - we need to secure it. Sir." Much for the same reasons Izoldah had stated.
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Oct 7, 2016 20:59
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Yulia She runs as fast as her legs will take her, working hard to put as much distance between herself and whatever has caused the shooting to begin again. More of those... monsters? The word seems a bit too juvenile and round to accurately describe the things facing them, yet what else were they? And where had they come from? Yulia looks over her shoulder to Grace, then awkwardly tugs her revolver out of the holster, holding it ineffectually, as a source of comfort more than a weapon. They brought you here for your mind, not your marksmanship - so think, Yulia. She tries to take in order the things known about the base, the creatures they've seen, but thinking of the things means seeing them with her mind's eye, and the melted visages derail her attempt at analysis - none of it makes sense anyway, how is reason going to help the unreasonable? No, not unreasonable, just...unknown. Think, whe- a loud resonating crack of a rifle sounds and she jerks her head up, train of thought lost again. The answer has to be something from the vault - everything else in the facility had been stock standard Third Reich. It is the vault's contents which had been unusual... Had they found anything? The bits about Black Sun, the Fallen, Klein Cells, the tomes. And another series of shots. She murmurs to the Englishwoman, "This is not a productive environment."
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Oct 10, 2016 22:02
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Yulia Slowly emerging from her cover, she stands on uncertain legs, putting her unused weapon away where it can't harm anyone. The doctor's eyes roam from person to person, still trying to contextualize the monstrosity they'd fought, until Ronnie mentions the fire. Her eyes widen, "The fire." Dimly, Yulia recalls that there was actually a mission - a point to all this. "The vault was mostly looted, I packed away the documents we found... The map from the communications center - I was writing..." She casts a look towards the blast doors, fishing the journal out of her satchel, "This may be our last chance." Our last chance to collect something that someone will believe. They'll all think we're crazy, right? She looks to the American, then Barton-Morewood, "If we cannot stop the fire, I would like permission to begin salvage."
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Oct 11, 2016 23:09
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 YuliaShe looks after Izoldah & Irakliy, bowing her head in gratitude, "<Thank you for seeing to Dimitry, bring him back safe then, alright?>" She looks over her shoulder and nods to Ted, then back to the other Soviets, "<I'll go with this one, then we can see about salvaging whatever's left.>" Patting the other Soviet woman on the shoulder, she flashes them a tight smile - and it takes a lot of effort to smile here - and heads off to join Sgt. Willis, "More than just lights - without the generator... the doors, the vents -- this place becomes...distinctly more unpleasant, yes? I will come to help again." Ambivalent fucked around with this message at 07:40 on Oct 12, 2016 |
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Oct 12, 2016 06:15
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Yulia For most of the Quest for Comrade Dimitry, Yulia has been biting at the back end of a pencil, eyes down in a journal where she has been attempting to pick apart the cipher the Germans have employed for their submarine routes. She isn't make much progress but her brain appreciates a challenge that is familiar - cryptography is much preferable to... the melted Nazi-dog-faced beast she is trying not to think of. Periodically, she murmurs a brief 'da' to something Irakliy has said, without really mindering the soldier much. He says something about a rendezvous at the vault when she finally looks up from her notes. "Move his desk?" Scooting aside her boot, Dr. Khulanova looks down at the floor and tilts her head. Strange. "Comrade Sergeant, could you help me move this desk again? It could be educational. Or not. Humor me?" Yulia has read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and assorted parlor mysteries, she's keen to these sorts of mysteries, not sure if this is a time to roll a skill or not!
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Oct 13, 2016 05:40
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Yulia She had been expecting to uncover a dossier, or a plundered gold cross, but as the nature of the stains and the method behind their origin becomes clear, dread creeps back into her movements. Doctor Khulanova glances up to Irakliy as her fingers probe the wood grain, feeling about for signs of subtle woodworking. "Lesson from the Academy in Leningrad, Irakliy: men with nice desks love to hide things in them. Why? No one will search your desk until you are under suspicion, so why hide at all? And then, when you are suspect, it is the first thing they will search. Little boys in Krasnoyarsk... they loved to bury things in little holes in the snow. I think these men are like the boys - when they put somethi- aha!" Tugging free the compartment with a little effort, she flashes a smirk to Irakliy - which then quickly melts away when she lays eyes on her prize. It is an older tome, but there is... a smell, or feel to it. Ritual. Cracking open the book, she glances over the text, enough to get the idea. Looking over her shoulder to the medic, the Evenk raises an eyebrow in surprise, then nods, "Very good. The pharaohs captured the imagination of the Reich as much as they did anyone else. I know many of my mentor's colleagues were paid handsomely for their work before the war." Muttering under her breath, she shakes her head, looking back at the book, "As I said...a place of true believers." And back to her comrade, "We should return to the others." Anxiously, she carefully wraps the book in an olive scrap of cloth from a Red Army overcoat she'd lost somewhere in the East and secures it in her satchel. Ambivalent fucked around with this message at 07:28 on Oct 13, 2016 |
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Oct 13, 2016 07:15
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Yulia The good doctor has, intentionally or not, moved past the horror of the monsters they'd been exposed to and is instead abuzz with the marvelous cache they've discovered. "It is a collection of the odd - books that are stories unto themselves, collected by the fascists from around the world." Her enthusiasm is only tempered by the forboding of facility and some nagging dread, both quickly shoved aside as she examines the Buddhist tome, speaking to her fellow academics, "I have been to Tibet, studied much of this philosophy with the monks - there they say there are six moments where the mind achieves clarity not found in the mortal world - the moments of birth, of dreaming, of meditation, death, beyond death, and rebirth. The Milam Bardo is the second of these - the dreaming." She does not know who is listening, or who cares. Possibly no one. "To think we had climbed mountains in the snow in search of similar things, and now we find this book in a bunker on an island in the Atlantic..." She looks at the find again, as if to verify it's existance. But in the process of marveling at the wonder, she's forced to acknowledge the oddity again. They had confronted a monster that seemed impossible and unnatural. Supernatural. And now these books. The scholar in her cannot ignore the coincidence, no matter how much she wants to. Something awful had happened here, and the books cannot be unrelated. The other notes Sebastian had recovered confirm as much. Putting the manuscript away, tucked next to Das Todtenbuch and Hronika Chernoboga in her satchel, Yulia soberly returns to the reality of their situation, looking to the others, "We are still missing a comrade. What is left to search? Could he have gone back to the boats?" Given the terror they had been facing, maybe not the most unreasonable course of action. Fun Fact: In Tibetan Buddhism, monks learn DREAM YOGA to integrate Milam Bardo - dream state - into their routine. Maybe Dimitry reads Old Church Slavonic - Yulia will find him and ask him.
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Oct 14, 2016 14:04
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Yulia All but hiding behind Izoldah, Yulia listens for any word from their comrade. Chewing her lip, she finally makes up her mind. Dipping her shoulder down, she slips off the holster for her revolver and discards it then works past the scout and the other soldiers ahead of her in the procession, without waiting for permission. Moving up closer toward the Command Bridge, she calls out softly, "<Dimitry, it is Yulia - I'm... I'm going to move up now, alright? It is alright, just... say something to me, okay? Are you there?>" One foot after the other, she slowly moves forward. "<Just let me hear your voice, alright?>" Looking for... I dunno, danger? A trap? Something with the shell like Ted mentioned. Notice. [23:28] * AchtungBot rolled a (1d8-1) with wild die for ambivalent and got ( 4 10 ) Results: 10
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Oct 15, 2016 04:30
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Yulia More violence, more of that queasy sense of unrest, but in her face, and with a death grip on Dimitry's throat. She wasn't ready, there is just a sharp gasp, and the doctor recoils in fear - unable to will her legs to take her away from the scene. Yulia is FROZEN IN FEAR from failing her Horror roll.
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Oct 15, 2016 05:01
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Yulia The action is over before she finds her feet again, the doctor pulling herself up against a bulkhead and wiping at her eyes a little bit. This one was different than the others, a soldier. But the mark is made - sheepishly, Yulia retreats to the back of the procession, collecting her gear. She'd rushed in without thinking - well, with assuming she'd understood the situation. Nothing had been a safe assumption since they'd come here though. Hugging her satchel close, Yulia settles in a corner of the command center, eyes flitting from the fallen foe to the navigation system, to Dimitry.
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Oct 15, 2016 06:21
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 Doctor Yulia Naraantuyevna KhulanovaThere are dark corners of this world, still yet unexplored - and things unexplained. Before she was born, her grandfather had told her, a star fell from the sky. The sky was orange and all the trees for a day's walk were laid flat against the ground, bark stripped bare. Her mother and twelve others amongst the People had fallen into a fevered state for three days. In Leningrad, it was simply recorded as 'an event at Tunguska' - a meteorite but the anodyne description did not describe what she had seen, years later, at the site itself. In Tibet, her friend Tenzin had told her of michê - the bear people who had lived in the mountains, a laughable fiction, surely, until she'd seen the Himalayan slopes and peaks, so inhospitable and alien that it became not inconceivable that there, in places mankind had never set foot, there could be a tribe of bear people. Her mentor, Professor Roerich, had believed in such things, too - and he had seen more of the world than anyone she'd ever met. The man had been a scholar and an artist, a brilliant mind, and he had taught her of Blavatsky, and her theories of the Lemurians and Atlanteans, the humanities before humanity. She had never believed in such things but again, the man had seen so much... Perhaps he had been right again. Perhaps the hubris had been hers, in thinking that her grandfather, her mentor, her friend had all been daft and that she had been the one with all the wisdom. Or maybe the violence had shaken her. She is no soldier, and yet they'd given her a gun, put her in a tiny rubber boat and sailed her to a volcanic Nazi island. She had not been trained for this, not really - not the way Izoldah and Irakliy and... well, Dimitry had been. Even they seemed to have trouble with the island - perhaps, Yulia considers, she had been shaken so badly that she could not even grasp how much it had skewed her reasoning. But it had all been real - they'd brought back the books, the inexplicable equipment. It was real for certain, was it not? If not a monster, then what had attacked them? And if there was ever a thing unholy in the world, it was the fascists, the Nazi regime. If ever there were a place to make monsters, it would be the Reich, would it not? Brooding, quiet - and glad for a shower and change of clothes, Yulia keeps to herself mostly upon the return. Once she is given permission, she writes, furiously. A well worn journal is filled with her recollection, from the waves sweeping Sebastian out of the boat to setting foot on the sand. Harry prying open the rusted hatch through sheer muscle, the stale scent beyond. Helping Sergeant Willis fix the generator. Her rough mapping of the facility is replaced with more refined, cleaner cartography, properly notated. The encounters with the creatures are recorded briefly - she hedges away from details she does not fully understand, and uses vague words that describe things like 'foe' and 'attacker.' There is just not enough comfort to attach other labels to them. She says nothing of Kuznetsov and assisting him - if the beasts were hard to describe, then the wounds they inflicted were just as difficult to explain. And upon this, a third revision is made - a revision promptly handed over to her handlers from SMERSH, the carefully scribed journal likely to end up yellowing in a box care of some agency for the next sixty years until a plucky band of investigators stumble upon it and plumb it's depths for clues to the mysteries of their own, separate campaign. The debriefing is... unpleasant. Not totally unfamiliar - you don't become a doctor in Leningrad without learning to massage the sensibilities of dyed in the wool Stalinists & accommodate the expectations of your superiors. Her confinement in Kuibyshev had been even more instructive, in that regard. Thankfully, they seem less interested in her general observations than her expert opinion - more likely they'd look to the testimony of the actual soldiers for the field report. The progress she'd made on the submarine log cipher is of interest, and something she is glad to speak of - it is mundane and uncomplicated (as uncomplicated as cryptography can be). The questions about the recovered books are a little more difficult. The prospect of Saxemberg being a library for a rogue Nazi bibliophile is quickly shot down. Doctor Khulanova downplays her interest in further studying the works they'd recovered, knowing she doesn't have to come to them. They now have an obscure Tibetan religious text and there is likely no more than a handful of people in the Western hemisphere more studied on the matter - they'll be seeking her out sooner or later. So until they do, she bides her time, make sure to enjoy the brisk Atlantic air and open sky above, fully expecting to be confined to a study for an extended period of time in the near future. Rally to Restore Dementia * AchtungBot rolled a (1d8+2) with wild die for ambivalent and got ( 7 3 ) Results: 7 Spending a benny: * AchtungBot rolled a (1d8+2) with wild die for ambivalent and got ( 9 4 ) Results: 9 Shedding my two dementia I gained from the sub fight. Possibly relevant to Debriefing, Yulia has the Under Suspicion disadvantage, because she is a weird ethnic & a weird nerd. I actually have three unpicked Languages because I'm really bad at character sheets (I picked Russian as one of my 'learned' languages and I had forgotten to pick 2 more when I'd rearranged my sheet to have d10 Smarts). I will take Slavonic as one of my languages unless anyone thinks that is too metagamey (seriously just say the word and I'll axe it), along with Egyptian Hieroglyphics & Arabic. I am also going to shift around some skills to have Yulia have d4 in the Knowledge (Science) skill. She's not a physicist or anything, but she has read plenty enough - and it seems prudent to have at least some scientific skill among us. For Nominations, it's hard, but going with Harry for trying to Intimidate the horrific monster.
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Oct 16, 2016 04:43
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Yulia She cranes her neck up to meet eyes with Harry, "I am... enjoying the daylight, doing as little thinking as I can." Looking back out to the ocean, "For being a military base in the Atlantic, it is very pacific, yes?" That isn't entirely true - she wants to ask him, any of the others, about the things they'd seen but at the same time, isn't too eager to talk about it, yet she fesses up, "No. The truth - I was thinking of a tale my grandfather told me, of a handsome man who had angered Ülgen with his pride. Ülgen breathed a howling wind upon the man that tore him to scraps then crudely stitched him back together, and sent him to wander the tundra." She winces and looks back up to the soldier apologetically, "It was a very scary story at the time." She doesn't see a need to explain why she is thinking of that story. Ambivalent fucked around with this message at 09:12 on Oct 16, 2016 |
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Oct 16, 2016 05:54
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Yulia She gestures, "He is..." A patriarch-creator figure, a representative of natural forces. "In stories, he is like... Father Nature - sometimes he is an old man who is a traveler you meet in the woods. " Yulia shrugs a little, then smiles, tilting her head to listen, "Who is...Wehro?" Someone bad, clearly. "You talked about them on the island." Ambivalent fucked around with this message at 09:12 on Oct 16, 2016 |
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Oct 16, 2016 07:35
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Yulia She listens intently, watching Harry's face as he animates and explains, a smile growing on her face. It is hard to disagree with any of what he's said - it is as good an explanation as any. He's as well equipped to identify what they'd seen as she is - likely more so. But at the end, she straightens up, "Leave... sounds nice. It is temporary, yes?" Ambivalent fucked around with this message at 05:54 on Oct 17, 2016 |
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Oct 17, 2016 02:36
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Yulia Pencilneck. Not a euphamism she'd heard before. Given Harry's own neck, the implication is clear. She looks sheepish all at once when he asks about the excitement. Shaking her head, she looks toward the ocean, "The books were... rare, most of them fairly renowned and old. Like you'd find in a museum or that someone - like us - would study and write another book about. But the way they were stored - where they were stored..." She scowls, "They were not kept like precious documents or favorite books. Most were in metal boxes on shelves. In a secret bunker. They were stored like weapons." Yulia glances over her shoulder, just to make sure no one is passing by or eavesdropping, then leans in - or up, as the case is with Harry - to speak in confidence, "What we saw - I do not believe it was invented by the Germans, merely discovered." She withdraws and shrugs a little. "But who can say?"
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Oct 17, 2016 06:12
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Yulia "Not us." She nods at Harry and then nods up, then she glances around, "Us - pencilnecks." She shrugs her shoulders again as to the source of the horrors, taking a long look back at the ocean, "Possible. It is not the Party line but 'there are more things in Heaven and Earth' than are dreamt of in some philosophies."
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Oct 17, 2016 08:12
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Yulia Her reaction is the less the alarm Harry shows and more... resignation, "They've taken them - for now." She frowns then looks back out to the ocean, "If Command believes our stories, then I expect they will want someone to study them. Or maybe not. It is, as you say, 'above my paygrade'." Pushing off from the railing, she nods, "Enjoy your leave, Harry. And if you've a mind, ask the tohunga to spare a thought for the rest of us, yes?"
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Oct 17, 2016 20:47
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Yulia Her time away from duty is never, really, that far from duty. She walks about town, takes tea - but she has a distinct impression that the letters she writes are never mailed. Her handlers - with SMERSH, some of them, others she's not so sure of - have given her back some of the recovered books, as anticipated. In work, her life is not much different than it was in Kuibyshev - she is observed, she transcribes, she submits finished work. The chief difference is that she is on a beautiful, Atlantic volcanic isle instead of, well, Kuibyshev. And while it isn't quite tropical, by Soviet standards the weather is divine. What freedom she has is treasured, and she is a fixture at the mess the Royal Navy has dressed up more to resemble a diner, practicing her conversational English, taking in stories of anywhere, everywhere, from the well-travelled soldiers, filling pages of journals. And the rest of her time is spent mired in the weird finds she's been asked to translate. The conversation with Harry is forefront in her mind throughout - there is reticence to her study, and she keeps the subject matter at arm's length, for most of her work, giving a perfunctory transliteration without much in the way of translating. Nonetheless, she does make short work of the book she'd found in the officer's study and is able to submit an English and Russian language edition to her superiors within a couple of weeks, before digging into the more esoteric Tibetan tome. There, her interest gets the better of her, as the subject matter cleaves so closely to her previous writings and studies. ~ Das Todtenbuch is finished translating. [17:58] * AchtungBot rolled a (1d10) with wild die for ambivalent and got ( 6 5 ) Results: 6 [17:58] * AchtungBot rolled a (1d10) with wild die for ambivalent and got ( 19 4 ) Results: 19 Starting on Suta Milam Bar-do: AchtungBot rolled a (1d10) with wild die for ambivalent and got ( 5 8 ) Results: 8 I had lowered Survival to D4 in order to pick up SCIENCE after Saxemberg, so raising Survival back up to D6, Cryptography to d6. ~ She has little use for the briefing - Woolley's words mean little to her. The truth will be reflected when they arrive, after all. The Saxemberg mission had hardly been what was described to her. Besides, this whole endeavour sounds, to her ears, like all the powers trying to grab a piece of glory so they can stand victoriously atop one last objective in the twilight of this war. Khulanova listens dutifully but does not take it much to heart. Yulia scrutinizes the cold-weather gear provided and seems a little less-than enthused but makes do. She'd brought her own reindeer-hide high boots, and heavy, bushy fur hat that she'd taken from home, to the Himalayas, and now, Antarctica. Securing herself into one of the seats, and not fully trusting the plane, she fastens tight, and looks about to the others. The idea of the plane is still uneasy for her, but, well, it had to be perfectly safe, right? 'Bill' seemed an experienced sort, and Barton-Morewood had flown dozens of missions, right? Fine. Fine. Along with just about everyone else she imagines, Yulia gives Bradley and his new attachment a long stare. If you wanted a physical manifestation of the notion that you have not been told anything by your commanders, the case is that and then some. It is not surprising.
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Oct 19, 2016 23:42
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Yulia She shakes her head, enjoying the sandwich provided. By far, her favorite part of being stationed with the Allies has been the food. Russian food, if she is being honest and unpatriotic, is dire. Years of bitter winters and some of Comrade Stalin's more ill-advised agricultural reforms had led to dramatic rationing. And while as an academic, she had been spared actual starvation, it hardly means she has been dining finely. The sandwich, however, is magnificent. And nutritious, really. At the outset of the war, the American government had contracted Continental Baking to begin adding vitamins and minerals to their bread, in an effort to produce a stronger, healthier population, a New Man. The Third Reich and Stalinists must have been kicking themselves for not having been able to do it first. All this makes this, the sandwich of Allies, that much more delicious. Yulia chews mouthful of bread and eyes it thoughtfully, trying to decide if she can taste the vitamins and minerals or not. Finally, she looks up to Bradley across the cargo hold, shaking her head, swallowing her bite.
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Oct 20, 2016 06:29
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Yulia "New Swabia." She repeats for Grace as she slides down the bench of the freight seating, "It was an idea put forth by Kaiser Wilhelm." Taking another small bite from her sandwich, and glancing at the pages before looking back to her food, she goes on, "There was... a sense of inferiority in Germania at the time - well, there always has been - but especially regarding the colonies of other imperial powers. Neuschwabenland was Germany showing up a decade late and a reichsmark short to colonialism. Göring still talks about it all the time." She shrugs her shoulders, then looks around, "What? I've been locked in a church translating German communiques for three years." Finishing her sandwich, she takes the last of the three folders titled 'Ritscher' and begins to flip through it.
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Oct 21, 2016 03:03
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Yulia She manages a bitter chuckle while reading the papers - it's horrible, really. It would be a bad joke, if she hadn't just been crammed into a plane as part of an Allied offensive based on this intelligence. And it would be an astounding discovery if, well, it hadn't already been discovered and in such a disastrous fashion. A whole civilization, a city, art and culture, at the odd end of the Earth, by creatures not human. The notion is simply too confounding to grasp. But through it all, she has to laugh a little. "I had doubted my mentor's more outlandish notions, his theosophist tendencies... But the professor is not even here and he still manages to be correct." It is, after all, what is described in the pages, the theosophist theory of history, of civilizations predating man, other older eras of life on this world.
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Oct 22, 2016 10:36
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