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Wing and Sword: Chat et Souris (Prologue)
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<blockquote data-quote="The Shaman" data-source="post: 2318160" data-attributes="member: 26473"><p>Pyotr aims at the <em>fellagha</em> cowering among the rocks. He’s almost impossible to see...almost. The shot rings out and the insurgent’s head snaps back, his cap flying off as he crumples to the ground.</p><p></p><p>Normand charges forward, oblivious to the grenade launched by Lavareaux at the two fells before them. The detonation sends rock and sand flying – through the dust Normand sees one of the <em>fellaghas</em> lying in a twisted heap, the machine pistol falling from his limp hands, as the other staggers to his feet, turning toward safety. He’s too late. Normand’s punch digs deep into the Arab’s side, the brass knuckles crushing organs in their path. The <em>fellagha</em> cries out as he jerks back and collapses onto the rocks.</p><p></p><p>The blast catches Marcel by surprise as he races past the <em>fellaghas</em>. Pelted by dust and rocks he scrambles toward the fallen radioman. As he approaches he sees Sgt. Duval bury his combat knife deep into the abdomen of one of the <em>fellaghas</em>, then slash the second across the shoulder blades as the insurgent turns and runs away.</p><p></p><p>As he runs Marcel sees the <em>fellagha</em> standing over Vidal aim the radioman’s pistol at Sgt. Duval’s back and squeeze the trigger. The bullet catches the jumpmaster in the upper arm, but the <em>fellagha</em> doesn’t wait to take another shot – he turns and disappears into the cloud of red smoke hanging over the rocks.</p><p></p><p>Marcel races up to Vidal, and drops down beside him, spilling the meager supplies to the ground. Vidal is pale – blood stains the side of his head where the rifle butt connected. As he fumbles with his supplies, Marcel also notices a large dent in one side of Vidal’s helmet – the blow from the rifle was not the only hit that the radioman took to the head apparently.</p><p></p><p>On the hill Pyotr sees the two <em>fellaghas</em> in the gully running north along the streambed, away from the legionnaires, not looking back. A glance over his shoulder reveals that the insurgents among the rocks are falling back as well. The sound of combat dies away, replaced by the receding roar of the jets and the faint buzz of the spotter plane still making a lazy orbit a short distance away.</p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 9px"><span style="color: darkgray">End of round 38, and WE ARE NO LONGER IN INITIATIVE ORDER! WOO-HOO!</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 9px"><span style="color: darkgray"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 9px"><span style="color: darkgray">Pyotr has a clear shot at the two fells retreating if he wants to take it.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 9px"><span style="color: darkgray"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 9px"><span style="color: darkgray">Good job, legionnaires. <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /> </span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="The Shaman, post: 2318160, member: 26473"] Pyotr aims at the [i]fellagha[/i] cowering among the rocks. He’s almost impossible to see...almost. The shot rings out and the insurgent’s head snaps back, his cap flying off as he crumples to the ground. Normand charges forward, oblivious to the grenade launched by Lavareaux at the two fells before them. The detonation sends rock and sand flying – through the dust Normand sees one of the [i]fellaghas[/i] lying in a twisted heap, the machine pistol falling from his limp hands, as the other staggers to his feet, turning toward safety. He’s too late. Normand’s punch digs deep into the Arab’s side, the brass knuckles crushing organs in their path. The [i]fellagha[/i] cries out as he jerks back and collapses onto the rocks. The blast catches Marcel by surprise as he races past the [i]fellaghas[/i]. Pelted by dust and rocks he scrambles toward the fallen radioman. As he approaches he sees Sgt. Duval bury his combat knife deep into the abdomen of one of the [i]fellaghas[/i], then slash the second across the shoulder blades as the insurgent turns and runs away. As he runs Marcel sees the [i]fellagha[/i] standing over Vidal aim the radioman’s pistol at Sgt. Duval’s back and squeeze the trigger. The bullet catches the jumpmaster in the upper arm, but the [i]fellagha[/i] doesn’t wait to take another shot – he turns and disappears into the cloud of red smoke hanging over the rocks. Marcel races up to Vidal, and drops down beside him, spilling the meager supplies to the ground. Vidal is pale – blood stains the side of his head where the rifle butt connected. As he fumbles with his supplies, Marcel also notices a large dent in one side of Vidal’s helmet – the blow from the rifle was not the only hit that the radioman took to the head apparently. On the hill Pyotr sees the two [i]fellaghas[/i] in the gully running north along the streambed, away from the legionnaires, not looking back. A glance over his shoulder reveals that the insurgents among the rocks are falling back as well. The sound of combat dies away, replaced by the receding roar of the jets and the faint buzz of the spotter plane still making a lazy orbit a short distance away. [size=1][color=darkgray]End of round 38, and WE ARE NO LONGER IN INITIATIVE ORDER! WOO-HOO! Pyotr has a clear shot at the two fells retreating if he wants to take it. Good job, legionnaires. :) [/color][/size] [/QUOTE]
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