Wing and Sword: Life During Wartime

[shadowbloodmoon]

Shaking his head and clearing his eyes, Pyotr turned to scan the fields of the farm. A few of the fells could still be in there. Or a whole group of them. Or they could be long gone by now. Sighing, he simply let the muzzle of his MAT-49 follow the rows of the fields back and forth in an effort to pick out something, anything, out of place. As he did so, his nervousness about the truck caused his feet to shuffle him forward away from it a few meters.

 

[знаток]

From over Vidal’s shoulder comes the voice of Sgt. Müller. “Légionnaire, see if you can raise the camp,” orders the German non-com. “They’re Tango 3, we’re Tango 31 Blue. Get the lieutenant.”

After clearing the immediate threat of the truck, Vidal is relieved somewhat to have a task more tailored to his specialty. "Roger, sergent," he responds as he quickly brings up the radio. "Tango 3, this is Tango 31 Blue, over."

Knowledge check (technology): 20

 

[The Shaman]

There is a hiss of static as Vidal tries the radio, then a scratchy voice answers, “Tango 31 Blue, Tango 3, go ahead.”

 

[Barak]

While keeping his eyes open for anything out of the ordinary, Normand had been keeping an ear on the conversation between Marcel and the gendarme. As Marcel goes to tell their superior about the gleaned information, Normand gives the gendarme a quick look, and smiles reassuringly, before returning his attention to his surroundings.

Ambush wasn't that long ago.. They left in the direction of the farm, and that truck very possibly belonged to the farmer. The gendarme says the farmer was known to that Henri fellow.. So he very possibly was a victim as well in all this. 10-to-1 we find them holed up in there, with the occupants dead or hostages. I hate hostage-situations..

 

[Bobitron]

"Sgt. Kat! This was a pretty straightforward ambush, sir. There were at least three Arabs, all armed by now." Marcel kicks at the dirt in frustration and motions at the injured man. "That one fell into the ditch, followed by one of the dead officers. They left him for dead after pumping his buddies full of ammo. He hid in the culvert until we arrived. He isn't sure how long ago it happened, but thinks it wasn't long. I would assume from his description that they went to the farm. The farm belongs to a Monsieur Rubiera. One of the dead gendarmes was a close friend of Rubiera, so we have to assume he might be in trouble. He thinks the Skoda might be from the farm, but can't say for certain." Marcel takes off his helmet and wipes his brow with a sleeve, then replaces it. "Your orders, sir?"

 

[The Shaman]

Sgt. Katsourianis is attentive as Marcel gives his report – Sgt. Müller listens as well while Vidal raises the camp on the section radio. The Greek section leader looks west, where the sun hangs suspended, it’s lower limb separated from the hills by a sliver of blue, then glances at the big steel chronograph on his wrist.

“Sunset is about ten minutes away, Hans,” says Kat to the sergent-chef. “It’ll be dark not long after. If they’re still on the farm, they may be waiting to slip away in the night.”

Müller gazes at the farm in silence. When Vidal gets a response on the radio, the German taps him on the shoulder and holds out his hand for the Motorola. “Tango 3, get the lieutenant,” he snaps. Müller glances at the wounded gendarme before he replies, “They’re probably long gone. Headed for the hills.”

“Tango 31, Tango 3...port.” The voice is Lt. Ramadier’s, broken and faint over the small section radio.

Müller keys the mic. “Sir, we’ve found a gendarmerie jeep with three KIA, one WIA, approximately seven kilometers west of town. Gendarmes’ weapons are missing. WIA reports three fellaghas in a truck ambushed them. The truck is still here, and the WIA believes it belongs to a farm a short distance away.”

“Ack...ged, Tango 31. Any sign of...fells?” asks the lieutenant.

“No, sir,” Müller replies, his voice dispassionate. “No activity in the area at all.”

A brief pause. “Tang...1, search the farm to make...nd secure...til help arrives,” the lieutenant orders. “I’ll noti...darmerie...racks. Warn any civili...ay inside, and keep me pos...”

The platoon sergeant’s face is blank as he signs off and hands the radio back to Vidal – if he has any misgivings about Lt. Ramadier’s orders, there is no sign on his countenance. “You heard the lieutenant, Kat. We search the farm.”

Sgt. Katsourianis wastes no time on questions. “Section! Form up on me! Tactical column!” he calls to the legionnaires. “Sánchez, you stay here with the gendarme and the truck. Keep alert.” Looking around at the assembled paras, he continues, “Lieutenant wants us to check out that farm and warn the farmers about fells in the area. Keep alert,” he repeats. “Sun’s going down soon. Move out.”

The paras resume their marching order as they set off across the wheat field toward the farm.

All: Another set of Spot and Listen checks, please. There’s no penalty for darkness to Spot – yet.

 

[shadowbloodmoon]

Pyotr knew he was already getting tired. His normally sharp eyes were growing too heavy for him to see in the setting sun's fading rays. His ears were barely any better, registering only the crunch of dirt underneath his boots. Pyotr would be surprised if he caught sight of an explosion in his immediate vicinity. The only sense that seemed to be working for him was smell. As the arid air cooled, it wafted the scent of dried blood past his nose.

Pyotr the Sniper is now officially Pyotr the Deaf and Blind...
Spot check: (1d20+4=6)
Listen check: (1d20+4=8)

 

[Bobitron]

Marcel gives a soft sigh as the orders to search the farm comes through. It's the right thing to do, he muses. Even if we don't like it. That farmer deserves as much.

Marcel quickly checks on the wounded man while the group gathers gear and arranges itself. "Sanchez, make sure he doesn't move. Keep off that knee for a while, Comprenez?" He turns and jogs to get into position, his eyes scanning the feathery tops of the wheat for motion.

ooc: Spot is 16, Listen is 12. How high is the wheat in the field? Here's the marching order, so nobody else has to look it up.

David Nedjar and Sgt. Katsourianis
Vidal and Burhan Pamuk
Normand and Pyotr
Silvio Ortu and Karel Syrovy
Asmussen
Marcel, Cpl. Sembène, and Sgt. Müller

 

[Barak]

Normand silently falls into position, his face set, and weapon at the ready. After one nod to Pyotr, his attention swings to his side of the column, looking for anything out of the ordinary.


OOC
Spot:1
Listen:2

Wow.

 

[знаток]

Vidal stores the handset and follows the Turk to the head of the formation, checking his weapon one more time before scanning the target zone with the others. "How far do you think we are from camp, Nedjar?"

Listen: 8
Spot: 25