Wing and Sword: Life During Wartime

[The Shaman]

Nedjar looks to where Pyotr points, nods, and reaches for his canteen. Spinning off the cap he offers the first swig to Pyotr, then downs a gulp himself. The Algerian turns his attention down toward the tomb at the bottom of the gorge. “That would be some kill zone, if we could catch them down there, hand to G_d,” he replies absently, scratching at his beard. “I remember places like this in Indochina, in the highlands, only we were down there usually, and the viets were up here.” A grim smile creases his face.

“I have six more months,” he adds abruptly, staring off toward the far side of the gorge, “six months and la quille for me, then home.” He offers the canteen once more to Pyotr before slipping it back into it pouch. “Surely the fells will call it quits by then, oui?” Another unhappy smile.

“That’s a good-size one.” Vidal looks over the wall at the lifeless snake in Normand’s hands as the grenadier struggles to stuff it into a pouch. “Better strip the skin off first, or it may rot and get damaged. I’ll show you, if you’d like.”

Intent on Raffaele, Sgt. Katsourianis misses Normand’s bout with the viper. The Greek walks carefully toward the sarcophagus where the diminutive legionnaire waits, and crouches down beside him. “What’ve you got?” he asks.

 

[Barak]

Normand grins sheepishly at Vidal.

"I was sorta thinking of just putting the whole thing in Ortu's bed.. But you're right, probably not worth it. Sure, if ya wanna skin it, go right ahead, my friend."

 

[shadowbloodmoon]

Pyotr nods, swallowing the sip of water from Nedjar. "One would hope that they would eventually realize the futility of it. Though I don't think that'll happen before your time is through though. I hear these guys are pretty set in their ways." He puts on a furtive smile before he continues. "I like to think of it as job security."

 

[Bobitron]

"Ha! I like the idea of Ortu's expression more than the prospect of a nice new belt," Marcel laughs. "I guess it's best not to piss him off any more than we have to though."

 

[BlackGlobeGenerator]

Vidal lays out the viper on top of one of the remaining walls of the building and draws his knife. Inserting the tip of the knife into a small opening in the snake’s abdomen, he slices the snake open to its neck, then gripping the skin at the back of the neck peels the scaly hide away from the muscle, bones, and viscera. Another quick slice of the tail leaves the skin in one hand and the rest of the carcass in the other.

“I hate to waste all this meat,” Vidal says sadly, “but I don’t want some jackal walking up on me in the dark because of the scent.” He puts the carcass aside and sets to scraping away the rest of the flesh clinging to the underside of the skin. He doesn’t appear satisfied until the skin appears white, whereupon the edge of the knife moves to a different patch and begins the process again. Marcel and Normand: How do you plan to search the remains of the building?

Nedjar listens to Pyotr and nods, his face forlorn. “Oui, an ending seems too much to ask.” He turns to look up the ridge to the crest of the hills once again. “My family owns a bakery in Oran. So far there haven’t been many attacks in our community, hand to G_d, but Le Capitaine is right: it’s getting worse, not better.” Nedjar shakes his head. “C’mon, I wanna take a look up this ridgeline before we go back.”

It’s exceedingly difficult to move along the ridge without silhouetting one’s self. The legionnaires hug the side of the slope, eyes darting from rock to scraggly shrub. A hundred meters or so and Nedjar’s hand shoots up, then after a moment of motionless crouching, waves Pyotr forward. The Algerian points to a spot a short distance ahead, a hollow in the dirt nestled behind a pair of rocks. “Observation post,” he says softly. Pyotr: WATCH check, please.

Kat looks impatiently at Raffaele. “Cat got your tongue, Barzini?” he snaps. Turning to Pamuk, the sergent says to Pamuk, “Go see Le Capitaine. He’s got something for you to do.” Kat turns back to Raffaele, waiting for a report.

 

[shibata]

"Sergeant," Raffaele begins, "the first sarcophagus there is in decent shape, but this second sarcophagus is cracked. This piece appears that it could be removed from the slab opening a hole in the side. Pamuk found two shiny rifle cartridges on the ground right over there. This might be the cache we were told about. I have examined the area and I found no signs of booby trap. What do you want me to do?"

 

[shadowbloodmoon]

Pyotr crouches low, attempting to stay hidden with Nedjar. As the Legionnaire motions him forward, he carefully picks his way among the rocks to get a look at what Nedjar points to. He hoped that whoever was down there wasn't observing them as well.

Watch: (1d20+5=14)

 

[Barak]

"Wow thanks a lot, Vidal. That's going to be awesome!"

Normand then turns towards the doctor.

"Well doc, this is fun, but we better get on with our job, or we'll get chewed out something fierce."

OOC: Normand will do a complete walkaround of the building, poking in the sand here and there with the bayonet, and looking for anything out of place.search check (1d20+2=22)

While he looks, a disturbing thought comes to him.

"Hey doc, why did they pair you up with me anyway? Do I really get hurt that often?"

 

[The Shaman]

Kat looks closely at the stone. “The fells cache weapons wherever they can,” the sergent muses. “Let’s take a look.”

The observation post reminds Pyotr of a badger’s burrow, just big enough to fit one man lying prone, able to peer out between the rocks at the tomb site below. Blown sand and a line of lizard tracks on the dirt suggest that it hasn’t been used recently, Nedjar says, but the eyes of both legionnaires run back and forth over the tortured terracotta hills nonetheless. The landscape is still and quiet.

I’ll cover Normand’s Search check when we hear from Marcel.

 

[shadowbloodmoon]

Pyotr makes mimicks walking with his fingers as he nods towards the tiny post. Then he makes a small circling motion to indicate Nedjar should come from the other side of it. He waits for a response or better idea before moving on.

If Nedjar agrees:
Sneak: (1d20+9=14)