Wing and Sword: Chat et Souris (Prologue)

[The Shaman]

Duval flips through the book, tucks the sheet of paper inside the cover, and tosses the beads on the ground next to the body. “Bring the rifle and the magazines with us. We don’t leave weapons in the field for the fells,” he says, his face thoughtful. “And we might need it ourselves.”

The jumpmaster looks up as Marcel approaches, followed by Martinez. ”Fortier, you speak Arabic? Take a look at these.”
____

Normand and Pyotr scan the terrain around the landing zone. In the background the sound of the Muslim’s gasps are unmistakable as Lavareaux grinds his boot onto the man’s wound. “I asked you what you’re doing here, fellagha,” the caporal-chef repeats, his voice like ice. “You want to end up like your friend over there?”

The Muslim’s voice is weak. “My nephew,”, he says simply.

Lavareaux doesn’t hesitate. “If your sister doesn’t want to lose a brother as well as a son, answer the question.” The boot twists and the Muslim groans – this time there’s no attempt to stifle the sound.

“We saw the landing yesterday. We came to scavenge anything the paras left behind.” The Muslim takes a long slow breath. His eyes are still clenched shut.

The corporal lifts his boot off the wounded prisoner and kneels down beside him. “It wasn’t just the two of you out here, was it?” he asks. The icy edge is gone from Lavareaux’s tone now, replaced with an expressionless calm.

Normand and Pyotr, please make Spot checks.

 

[Bobitron]

The jumpmaster looks up as Marcel approaches, followed by Martinez. ”Fortier, you speak Arabic? Take a look at these.”

"Yessir, Sgt. Duval."

Marcel takes a knee near the body, using the dim light to read its contents. He skims it first, looking for an overview of its contents.

 

[Barak]

Normand continues to scan what's in front of him, looking for any movement, pretty nervous by now.


OOC
The above is pretty much filler for..
Spot check: 9

 

[shadowbloodmoon]

Pyotr Kerenin

Pyotr had been listening to Duval interrogate their new prisoner. Though he had seen worse done by the Germans as well as his own people, he still couldn't shake the queasiness of it. It was one thing to shoot a man, quite another to make him continue to deal with the pain of it. Shaking his head, Pyotr returned to scanning the area.


Spot check= 15

 

[знаток]

Vidal

OoC

Are the beads of the type suitable for counting steps while marching, or are they religious or decorative?

Knowledge (military science): 16

 

[The Shaman]

Marcel flips through the pages of the small book. The cloth cover is worn, the pages dog-eared from use. The script is Latin, but the légionnaire quickly realizes that the words are neither Arabic nor French. The sheet of paper on the other hand is clearly written in the fluid Arab script. Marcel’s eyes quickly flit over the page – it reads:

<Arabic>“National Liberation Front, Communiqué No. 24: People of Algeria, the Colonial Administration is responsible not only for impoverishing our people but also for corrupting and degrading our brothers and sisters, who have lost their sense of dignity. The FLN is leading a campaign to eradicate this scourge and requests the population’s help and cooperation.

This is the first step toward independence.

As of today, the FLN assumes responsibility for the physical and moral well-being of the Algerian people and has therefore decided to ban the sale and use of all drugs and alcoholic beverages and to ban prostitution and procuring.

Offenders will be punished. Repeat offenders will be sentenced to death.”<end Arabic>

At the bottom of the page is the date in French – 20 Avril 1956.

As Marcel studies the pages, Vidal looks at the beads that the jumpmaster tossed aside. They are smaller than marbles and made of wood, a rich reddish-brown. There appear to be around three dozen of the small round beads on the string – the string is joined in a small tassel of what looks like goat hair. They don’t resemble the beads that some of the legionnaires carried in basic training to learn the odd cadence of the Legion march.

Cpl. Martinez saunters up and tells Sgt. Duval, “Caporal Lavareaux has the other fell talking, sergent.”

Duval nods. “Fortier, bring that stuff with you. Let’s go.” He starts walking toward the other legionnaires gathered around the prisoner.
____

The prisoner’s voice is strained. “We are part of a patrol. We saw the paras land yesterday. We came to look for supplies.” His head lolls to one side.

“That’s not good enough,” replies Lavareaux, squatting beside him. The caporal-chef pulls his pistol from its holster and holds it up where the prisoner can see it before pressing the muzzle against the blood-drenched dressing covering the prisoner’s wound. “I see two dirty fells, not a patrol.” The prisoner doesn’t answer, and the corporal shoves the barrel hard into the gauze. A cry of agony hangs in the air.

Pyotr and Normand listen to the interrogation as they search the surroundings. There is no movement as the sun finally breaks above the low hills to the east, revealing the landscape in detail for the first time. To the north stretch the peaks and ridges of the Aurés Mountains. The exposed slopes are bare except for clumps of trees tucked into gullies or scattered across the highest elevations. To the east lies a low ridge extending from the mountains. To the west and south stretches a broad plain speckled with small stands of scrub that ends in a low range of mountains, giving the impression of a large basin some 30 km across. There are no signs of habitation – no roads, no telephone lines, no villages, no grazing goats – in the harsh morning glare.

 

[Bobitron]

Marcel quickly checks the body of the dead man before following the group, then rushed back with Duval towards the groans of the fell.

He understood the need to get information from the prisoner, but he couldn't help but think that he knew the torture was coming even as he patched up the wound. Maybe that's why I went to Duval, he thought.

He was angered by what he had read in the notebook. It was always an inner argument with his own Catholic faith when the Church tried to enforce its way upon the people, and Marcel hated to see these people being forced to follow the strict ways of Islam, or risk death. This is what keeps people at war, he thought. Intolerance for a blending of cultures and beliefs.

His musings were stopped short when he reached the prisoner and saw Lavareaux shove his sidearm into the prisoner's wound. As the man cried out, Marcel turned away, making a show of scanning the surroundings for another threat.

OOC: Marcel rolls a 5. I think he is too distracted by the prisoner

 

[знаток]

Vidal takes a closer look at the beads and scans over the rest of the body, making sure he's not leaving anything useful. With a sense of naive honor he returns the beads to the young man's pocket, pulls the magazines from their pouch, and picks up the rifle. I guess an even an old rifle could come in handy. With one last unwilling, grave glance at the man's face, he switches the Mauser to safe and stands up to follow Sergeant Duval.
Jogging to catch up to the sergent-chef, he continues his attempts to contact Hourglass over the 300. "Anything useful in there Fortier?" he asks once in range, hoping that a little meaningful conversation might also distract them both from the scene on the ground.

 

[Bobitron]

"Anything useful in there Fortier?"

"No, nothing really useful. The book I don't understand, it's not in Arabic or French. The paper has a proclamation about the FLN 'taking over responsibility' for the people of Algeria. They are trying to ban alcohol, drugs, prostitution. You know, all the things that make Algeria French.", he said with a smile.

 

[Barak]

While scanning the horizon for any movement, Normand listens to the conversation around him. At Marcel's words, he lets out a snicker.

"Sheesh. Are they trying to lose any popular support they might have?"