Wing and Sword: Chat et Souris (Prologue)

[Barak]

Normand looks at the man bleeding on the ground, and for a few seconds, the realization that he fired the bullet that made that happen strikes home some guilt. It doesn't last long, however, as the fact that the man would have shot at him comes back to him. He turns to Neumann.

"Well, the sarge wants him alive, so I think we should get the medic here quick."

 

[Bobitron]

Marcel is close enough to see the wounded man, and he hears Normand mention the medic. Did we jump with a medic? I don't remember seeing one. Damn, I need to start paying better attention to details.

"Sgt. Neumann? I have medical training, if you need me.", He says. "I don't have any supplies beyond some extra clothing I can use as bandages, but I'll do what I can."

 

[The Shaman]

Sgt. Neumann glances at Cpl. Lavareaux, who shrugs slightly.

Without a word, the German removes a small aid kit from his pocket and tosses it to Marcel.

 

[Bobitron]

Sgt. Neumann glances at Cpl. Lavareaux, who shrugs slightly.

Without a word, the German removes a small aid kit from his pocket and tosses it to Marcel.

Marcel catches the kit with a grin. Nice to feel useful, he thought. The Lord knows I can't hit the side of Notre Dame with my rifle.

He kneels next to the man, speaking to him in Arabic. "I'm here to help you. Stay calm, we need to slow your heart rate. Don't worry, these men won't hurt you so long as you do as you're told."

He inspects the wound carefully, pulling back the man's clothing from the wound. "This looks ugly, but I think I can stabilize him until we can get him to hospital." Cleaning the wound thouroughly, he goes to work...

OOC: If time is short, I make a normal roll. If not, I take 10 for a result of 19. Ha, I hope a good roll is not needed. I got a big fat 2, giving a result of 11. http://krisinchico.brinkster.net/searchroll.asp?username=Marcel#143755

 

[The Shaman]

You can take 10 on the check.

The Muslim raises his head and looks at Marcel wearily. “I’m Kabyle, not Arab. And I speak French,” he says en français, his voice slow and heavy. His head settles back to the sand.

He winces and stifles a moan as Marcel probes the gunshot. The bullet entered and exited the Muslim’s flank, taking a sizeable chunk of flesh with it. Marcel applies sulfa to the wound and stanches the bleeding as best he can with the dressing in the aid kit. A flat rock is used to elevate the man’s feet as treatment for shock.

The Muslim raises his head again, gazing at Marcel. “Do you have a cigarette?” he asks.

 

[Bobitron]

The Muslim raises his head again, gazing at Marcel. “Do you have a cigarette?” he asks.

Marcel gives a curt nod, and hands the man a Gauloise, lighting it before passing it over. "I'm sure the Sergeant will have some questions for you. It would be in your best interests to answer him truthfully and without guile. Don't make me regret stopping that bleeding."

Marcel stands, tucking the medkit into a cargo pocket on his leg.

"He's all yours, Sgt. Neumann. He speaks clean French. I'm going to check out the other one."

He moves towards Vidal, who stands with the corpse.

 

[The Shaman]

Bobitron, could you edit your post to read "Sgt. Neumann" instead? Sgt. Duval is still with Vidal and the corpse back at the location of the original line, something like this:

Sgt. Duval - Vidal - dead guy <------------ about 60m -----------> wounded prisoner and everyone else

Sunlight is striking the tops of the mountains now, turning their grey bulk into a riot of ochre and cream and rusty red. Sgt. Duval slowly scans the area with a pair of binoculars as Vidal searches the dead man. The sergent-chef lowers the glasses and reaches for the radio handset carried on Vidal’s back. “Trident this is Hourglass…Trident this is Hourglass…Trident this is Hourglass…” He listens carefully, glances at his watch, then returns the handset to its carrier.

“Find anything?” the jumpmaster asks the radioman.
____

As Marcel walks toward the jumpmaster and his radio, Sgt. Neumann speaks up. “Dinter, Berg, Gonzalez, bring the parachutes here,” he orders. “Mador, Kerenin, you stand sentry. Watch for anything moving out there. Martinez, go to Sgt. Duval, tell him we have a fell.”

Lavareaux bends down over the prisoner lying on the sand. “What are you doing out here, fellagha? Hmm?” asks the caporal-chef coldly. The Muslim closes his eyes and doesn’t answer. Lavareaux straightens up, raises one knee, and drives his jump boot straight down on the Muslim’s wound. The prisoner lets out a yelp followed by a moan through clenched teeth.

 

[shadowbloodmoon]

Pyotr Kerenin

Pyotr stands up, looking at his teammates as they all look at the man on the ground. The wound looked pretty bad, but their medic seemed to know what he was doing. It's a good thing we have him around. He thought. When he was ordered to stand sentry, Pyotr promptly marched over to an area that could give him a view of the rest of the group as well as all around him. Taking a knee, he continually scanned the area.

 

[Barak]

With a short nod to Neumann, Normand stands up and assumes sentry duty as well, his back to Pyotr, about 10 feet from the russian.

 

[знаток]

Still somewhat shaken, Vidal responds, "Yes, Sergeant. I found these." He hands the book and the folded paper over to Sergeant Duval. "Maybe Fortier can take a look at them. I recall he's proficient in Arabic."

He takes in the situation again, eyes skipping between the open desert, Sergeant Duval, and the interrogation. His mind begins looking to the days ahead, imagining other threats that may await them and saying another quick, silent prayer that the rest of the company has survived. "Should I destroy the weapon, Sergeant?" he asks, holstering his pistol and readying the handset for another radio check.