>> @SWORDARTONLINE | @ALL

[prizeneck]

[At the equivalent of 03:45 AM, you're getting a voice message because fuck your text feature. ]

Right, question.

Actually two.



First: Imagine you're being chased for a long time. You're unarmed, and yer injured. About to keel over. You can only carry one thing as you're running: a cell phone [a pause, and a rustle - he's waving his hand] or whatever you people use to communicate; or some food.

Which one do you take, and why?



Second question: who here can deal with high tech gadgets? I got a thing that needs checking before we head to the next mission.

Comments

[northerndragon]

Two in the back. One in the leg.

Why do you ask?

[prizeneck]

Could be telling if they wanted to keep you alive or not.

[northerndragon]

She didn't want me dead just then. I saw her kill from a few hundred paces away — she was closer and missed my heart by six inches.

But others who were with her would have killed me if they'd caught me, and the wounds didn't help me get away easily.

[prizeneck]

Huh, she wanted you to escape, then.

Second question, then, since you put some thought to it: what guarantees you that the food will give you enough energy to get ya out of their sight.

[northerndragon]

I know she wanted me in pain. I don't know if she wanted to make it easier for someone else to kill me. If she really wanted me to escape, she didn't have to shoot me at all.

The food doesn't ensure anything, but at the time, I was something like a messenger. We don't have your phones or anything like the BCE. People bring messages, or we send them tied to a raven that knows where to go. Only one of your choices would have a point to it there.

We could put the food against a war horn for a choice, but a horn wouldn't have done me any good then.

[But seriously, COST: why aren't war horns standard issue? They're unhackable! You'll never find Kebechet in the curl of it where he doesn't belong. You can't say that for the BCE.]

[prizeneck]

Sounds like she missed on purpose, though.

[holy shit, he’s actually talking about war horns. Just how ancient are you, man? Some rustling.] You’re actually serious.

What if you had something like the BCE, then?

[speech]

[northerndragon]

[So it turns out that @AEGONNER has a strong Northern English accent.]

Things would be easier with something like the BCE. The ability to send messages a long distance in an instant would save many lives. Might doom some, too. As it is now, we can send a message with a raven or with a rider, or with a horn if the men are close by.

[Of course she missed on purpose. Now that he's talking, Jon decides to drop that line of conversation. For some reason.]

[prizeneck]

[He’s going to have some time to process the accent and its patterns to fully make sure he understood what he said. But he doesn’t complain. His own Japanese accent slips into his English sometimes, even with the BCE translating for him.]

So what would you pick in both situations?

[northerndragon]

With nothing like the BCE? A change of horse halfway through my journey. Salve for my wounds, or dreamwine... milk of the poppy would have been even better, but I wouldn't have been able to sit a horse. Food might have helped.

With something like a BCE, I could have called for my brothers, if they would have listened then. Or I could have warned them of what was coming... it was an attack they were ill-prepared for... and they might have been more inclined to hear me.

[prizeneck]

Wait, hold on. [He's actually chuckling here.] Half of the shit you just told me I have no idea what it is.

Also, gave ya a hand, you're tryin' to take my whole arm. New situation: BCE or food. No horse. You only have COST to hear ya.

[northerndragon]

Dreamwine helps you sleep. Milk of the poppy is for fierce pain, if you're wounded, but it makes you bloody useless.

[He doesn't know that he's talking about an opiate... but he's talking about an opiate.]

With COST? That depends on the situation. BCE if they're going to be any help, food if they're only going to tell me to make my own way.

What would you choose?

[prizeneck]

[That's actually what he's thinking. It comes from poppies, after all.] That's what you call opium? Do you actually use it as an anesthetic?

[There's a hum there, considering.] I'm hearing a lot of "ifs". That ain't very decisive, is it?

The food.

[northerndragon]

I've never heard of opium, or anaesthetic, but if it's made from poppies and and too much of it can be dangerous, then aye, it's like to be the same.

You're hearing a lot of "ifs" because it would be stupid to make the same decision in every situation. It depends who the enemy is, how far away help is, if there's some reason why help wouldn't be coming.

Why would you choose the food?

[prizeneck]

[... out of everything, that gets him.]

Question: do ya know how to make a laundry machine work.

Fair, but... [Do you hear something in his voice that tells you he's loving this playing Devil's Advocate thing, Jon? ] Here's some extra "what ifs", then. What if it's the Regency, you don't have any clue how far help is, and if they're coming.

Because I trust my own ability to get out of a situation alone.

[northerndragon]

Still depends. The Regency kidnapped my intended at Gallipoli, and they broke her BCE -- temporarily. If you're running from them, you might not have a choice. Then you'd want food, or something to bind your wounds.

But if I called her, or some others here, I know they would come.

What I don't know is what a laundry machine is. A droid with a washing tub?

You trust your ability to get out of all situations alone?

[prizeneck]

What do you mean by "your intended"? [He suspects about what it means but he better clarify.]

Some others? Like who?

[Damn, for a second he actually stops feeling old-fashioned. It's so refreshing.] A device that washes your clothes. There's one in your room. Suppose that means you're not familiar with the tech around here, huh?

[Without any pause.] Of course. I am nothing if not resolute.

I AM SO SORRY! I lost the notif :(

[northerndragon]

The woman I've promised to marry. Her name here is STORMBORN. I'd hope that we'd all come for each other, but I wouldn't stake my life on it.

There are a lot of things I'm not familiar with. The last place we were that was anything like what I knew before COST was Jerusalem. They told us it was 1187 then. Paris in 1792 was nothing like where I came from.

If it only took resolve for a man to make it on his own, there would be fewer dead men. Still, I've known men who could... until they couldn't.

[/free wisdom from Former Lord Commander Jon Snow.]

NOT A PROBLEM

[prizeneck]

Huh. Just making sure. It's the first time I heard fiancée as "intended". [He wonders if he's met her already. There aren't many women in this cell, after all, but the handle tells him nothing.]

How's the whole traveling across time workin' for you, then?

[He snorts.] Heh, you don't meet many men like me.

[northerndragon]

Fiancée? That's a word I've never heard. But she's to be my wife.

[That isn't quite the right way to describe it, is it? Close enough. They're not wedded, they don't call each other husband and wife, but there have been vows and promises.]

How is it working for you? [That's not the way Jon would ordinarily put the question, but he understands it.] It's not a chance people usually have. I see things that would greatly benefit my people, and I see things that I hope will never come to our lands.

[He doubts this man has met many men like him, either, but not for the same reasons: men who have died and risen again and kept their own minds, men who have left the Night's Watch and become a king and given up their throne for the safety of their people.

He knows he's a kind of hero; at fifteen, he would have given anything to be this kind of hero. But it doesn't feel like heroism now, just desperation, and a desire for peace and rest and to see spring at least one more time.]

[prizeneck]

That's what a fiancée is, yeah.

Like what? [He pauses.] On both accounts. [Let it not be said that Mamoru doesn't want to learn anything. He really is curious about this.]

[northerndragon]

The BCE, to start with, like we said, instead of ravens or riders. Electric lights. Your air horses. [He means the hoverbikes.] A way to shoot dragonglass into a foe without a longbow. The sort of medicine that COST has. Any number of things may make things better, though it seems that they could come with their own troubles.

As for things I wouldn't want... guns like the ones at Gallipoli. I can see the use of them against an enemy, but we do enough with blades when we have to look into each other's eyes. To do the same from half a league away....

[The dubious note in his voice as he trails off indicates that he wonders whether there's a reason for that much death. Even where he's from, when hundreds of people fall, you bury them if you can, or you have the Silent Sisters attend to the cleaning of their bones and you return their bones to their families, or you burn them if you must. The burials shouldn't become a sliding pile of mud and pieces of the dead.]

[prizeneck]

Air... horses... was that from a previous mission, or...? [He's so confused.] And what is this dragonglass?


[He pauses at that. As a swordfighter, he has a bit of an interest and he doesn't really bother to hide it.] So you think that death comes easier to those you don't have to look in the eye?

[northerndragon]

Dragonglass, it's another name for obsidian. It's rare, but so brittle that until recently, we thought it nearly worthless. The air horses... from what I've heard, others are calling them hoverbikes. Are there other kinds of bikes?

[He doesn't know what a bike is. Every day here involves some internal concession that he really knows nothing, more frequent and simple concessions than he's had to make in years. It's frustrating: at home, he's considered sharp, most of the time, extremely able in all sorts of ways, good at sums and history and the way the world works, with a fine clean hand when he writes a message and a fine way with a blade, too.]

I think killing comes easier to people who don't have to look each other in the eye. But they aren't the better for it. Doesn't mean I wouldn't use arrows in battle, though. I would, and I'd light them on fire, if the conditions were right for it.

[prizeneck]

You’d use a brittle material as a weapon? You’re not telling me something, here.

And yeah, there are normal motorbikes or bicycles. Ain’t an expert, but I’ll tell you that those don’t fly. Not unless you have some sort of cutting-edge tech up your sleeve.

[At that last part though, he frowns. While he’s not an adept of killing - it just isn’t his style and death always seems too easy an escape for the people he deals with.]

Sounds like you’re a soldier, but not a killer. That correct?

[private from here on out]

[northerndragon]

The stories of what's coming are so old that half the men at home don't believe them. Why would I expect anyone here to? Dragonglass is no good for ordinary weapons, but it kills the White Walkers and the Army of the Dead, where good steel is useless.

All soldiers are killers, whether they like it or not — or they must be prepared to be. I command them now, but I was a soldier in my turn.