Wing and Sword: Chat et Souris (Prologue)

[The Shaman]

“Wait for your target, Kerenin,” replies Neumann coolly.

The covering fire from the fellaghas continues to shower the legionnaires among the rocks to the west of the hill. Neumann doesn’t seem to notice as a round tears through the shoulder of his smock while Gonzalez yelps when a bullet pelts him with fragments of iron-stained limestone. As the bullets whirr past the legionnaires the other fells creep along the gully – more of the insurgents scramble over the edge of the oued behind their comrades. End of round 16.

Pyotr watches the fells intently. The last group to clamber over the edge of the wash includes a muscular Arab with a machine gun carried over one shoulder, followed closely by an assistant draped with belts of ammunition. Like their fellows, they make a short run and drop to the gravelly bed of the gully.

A bullet from Neumann’s Mauser finds its target among the fellaghas advancing on the legionnaires, the man first twisting on the ground, then becoming still. “Watch for a rush by that lead squad,” he shouts over the din of gunfire. “If they charge, throw a grenade then fall back!”

Further east the rest of the legionnaires cross a small gully and find themselves among the sheltering rocks at last. Lavareaux looks to Duval – the sergent-chef gives his orders quickly as he drops to one knee. “They’re trying to pin down Neumann’s group, cut them off,” he says evenly, looking over the desert toward the German’s position. “Lavareaux, take Berg and Fortier, keep moving up the hill, past those bushes there,” he continues, gesturing toward the scrubby nose of the slope, “and cover Neumann. Gaspard, you and I stay here and protect our flank. Understood?”

Lavareaux nods. “Let’s go,” he says to the two légionnaires.

Revised initiative order, start of round 17 –
Pyotr 22
Normand 18
Sgt. Neumann 18
Vidal 17
Sgt. Duval and Cpl. Lavareaux 14
Fellagha LMG crew 12
Marcel 9
Legion voltigeurs (Dinter, Berg, Gonzalez) 2
Fellaghas 1

Range to the leading squad of fellaghas in D4 for Pyotr and Normand is 200’ (-4 to hit).

Duval pointed to the rocks at about G6 on the map – it will take two full-round moves for Marcel and the others to reach that spot.

 

[Barak]

Normand internally groans at Neumann's words, believing the german to be wrong with the benefit of his own "long" military experience.

Fat load of good it'll do us if Pierre spots their leader right before the rest of those bastards mow us down, will it, you damn kraut?

Keeping his thoughts to himself, however, and paying no attention to what Pyotr decides to do, he tries to aim better as he takes another shot at the advancing fells.


OOC:
Fire at the advancing fells, at -4 for range..
to-hit:15!
Yay! Damage, if (hopefully!) it hits:8

 

[Bobitron]

Marcel moves with Lavareaux, carefully watching how Berg is dealing with his wound.

 

[shadowbloodmoon]

Pyotr looks at the gun crew advancing towards him. If they got that thing planted, their job would be a thousand rounds per minute harder. Normand was right, they should just fire into them, but orders were orders, and Pyotr knew better than to disobey orders.

"Sergeant! You think that machine gun counts?"

Carefully, Pyotr sights in the man with the machine gun. This could be his only shot before they figure out his hiding place, Pyotr didn't want to waste it.

Starting a Dead Aim, waiting for the okay from Neumann to fire.

 

[знаток]

"Gaspard, you and I stay here and protect our flank. Understood?”

With the orders, things suddenly look much more sensible to Vidal. He's consciously aware of his shifting mood, and thankful for the direction it's taken. He knows from experience that confidence and spirit can make all the difference in situations like this. "Got it Sergeant! Should I call a quick report into Captain Villiers while we've still got some distance between us?" ...not that he can help us now...
He grips his rifle tighter and peers over the rocks at the advancing enemy.

 

[The Shaman]

“Machine gun?” Surprise in Neumann’s voice, then anger. “Scheisse!” A brief hesitation. “Yes, get him.”

Normand feels the kick from the MAS-49/56 against his shoulder, sees a puff of sand scant inches from the fellagha peering back at him from the gully. Then the fell is moving, closer, a short run, then headlong into the gravel-sand again. Gonzalez fires and a fellagha, about to rise, slumps to the ground instead. Without a word the Spaniard swings the barrel to search for another target.

The fellaghas’ fire dies away as they advance – one squad leaves the protection of the gully and takes a position behind the rocks where Lavareaux’s group was concealed just minutes ago, as the rest continue to work their way along the dry streambed.

The last group of fells in line takes up a position formerly occupied by the group providing covering fire, including the machine gunner and his loader. The gunner rests the weapon’s bipod on the edge of the gully as the loader untangles himself from a belt of ammunition. End of round 17.

Neumann fires again, grunting his disapproval as he misses his mark.
____

Marcel follows Lavareaux, with Berg beside him, as they scramble up the gentle but rocky slope of the limestone outcrop. A glance at the German legionnaire reveals that his skin is pale but otherwise he seems to be moving without difficulty, and the bloodstains on his smock and trousers don’t appear to be getting much larger. However, it’s hard to be sure how bad the wounds are as the trio jogs over the stony ground.
____

Duval raises his field glasses to his eyes, observes the fellagha advance as he answers Vidal. “Yes, advise Villiers that we’ve engaged the katiba, approximately fifteen enemy casualties inflicted” he says, “one legionnaire casualty sustained. Awaiting air support.” He points to the fells gathering among the rocks where the legionnaires once crouched. “Watch them. They may make a rush to flank us.”

Pyotr must take this full-round to draw a bead on the gunner in order to benefit from Dead Aim – the range is as before, 300’ from Pyotr, which is -4 to hit for the Russian sharpshooter. Remember that the fells gain a one-half cover bonus from lying prone in the gully, so the gunner’s Defense is higher than normal.

The leading fellaghas are now just 150’ from Normand’s position (-2 to hit), 240’ from Vidal and Marcel (-4 to hit).

 

[Barak]

Merde alors! There's about 50 of them, and I can't hit a damn one!

Trying to calm himself, Normand takes yet another shot at that same fell.


OOC:
Fire at that fell, -2 to hit
to-hit:14
Not sure if he now has cover, so if -that- hits, damage:7

 

[знаток]

Vidal turns to face the fells, training his rifle along the northern edge of the gully. Keeping a watchful eye, he takes the handset in his left hand. "Juliet 4, this is hourglass. We'll be leaving the net for about one minute to contact the company. Out."
Without waiting for confirmation, he asks Sergeant Duval to switch the channel on his pack.

If contact is made, he will relay the message as closely to word for word as he can manage, then make it clear that he's returning to monitor the spotter's channel and immediately try to reestablish communication with him.

 

[shadowbloodmoon]

Pyotr smiles at Neumann's confirmation. Finally. This gunner was easily the equivalent of ten men with rifles. Pyotr wasn't about to let him take down any more of his comrades. The reality was beginning to set in that these fells meant business and they had been hurting Pyotr's new family. Taking a breath to calm the anger building within, he sighted the gunner down the end of his rifle. "Do svedanya, tovarisch."

Okay, full round to take Dead Aim at the machine gunner. Should give me a net of +0 to hit at the beginning of next turn.

 

[The Shaman]

Before Vidal can switch from ground-to-air, the voice of Capitaine Villiers breaks in. “Hourglass, this is Trident. I’m monitoring your traffic. What’s your status?” Vidal rattles off Duval’s report as close as he can remember it.

Villiers’ reply is terse. “Understood, Hourglass. Good luck.”

Marcel, Lavareaux, and Berg clamber up the stony outcrop before settling in among the rocks and shrubs. Marcel gives Berg a quick once-over. The wound in Berg’s back looks odd somehow – on closer examination it’s easy to see why. The bullet barely broke the skin, but it’s heavily deformed – a ricochet.

Berg grunts as Marcel checks the wound. “Be extra gentle with that other one, dear,” he says sardonically as Marcel moves down Berg’s back. The wound to the buttocks is more serious – the blood sticks the legionnaire’s trousers to the torn flesh, slowing exsanguination but making it difficult to see all of the damage.

As Marcel checks the wounds, Lavareaux stretches out prone among the rocks and watches first the fellaghas, then Sgt. Neumann’s group among the rocks about 60m away, his hand shading his eyes from the intense desert sunlight. “Work fast, Fortier,” he says, checking over his submachine gun.

The pause in the fellaghas gunfire as they move into position is broken as the squad nearest the legionnaires opens fire, joined by their comrades further west, while the rest of the insurgents continue their slow, methodical advance along the gully. Sand and rock fragments explode around the legionnaires positioned among the rocks. Neumann gasps as a bullet slices along the side of his neck leaving a bloody trail. Normand hears the loud slap of bullets passing near his head, feels the hot breath on his cheeks. Gonzalez cries a plaintive, “Madre de Dios!” as he presses himself flat against the rocks, too shaken to return the intense fire.

As the world turns to chaos around him, Pyotr gazes down the barrel of his rifle. It seems as if the machine gun is pointed straight at him as he draws a bead on the gunner while the loader slips a belt of ammunition into the receiver and slaps the feed cover into place.