Wing and Sword: Life During Wartime

[Barak]

Normand quickly brings his weapon into firing position, and keeps it trained on one of the men as he moves towards them, allowing himself only short glances to the surrounding area, looking for other people. As he advances, he repeatly yells one of the few arab words he recently picked up.

"Down, down, down, down!"

 

[Bobitron]

Marcel concentrates on his immediate surroundings rather than rushing up, guarding the rear in case another possible threat appears. Swinging down his carbine, he holds it at his hip, slowly scanning the hills.

 

[shibata]

Raffaele follows Kat's order; moving toward the fells and their animals with MAT-49 ready, conscious of available cover and keeping an interval of at least 3m from other members of the choc.

 

[The Shaman]

The two men drop to their knees and raise their hands at Normand’s shouts - as the legionnaires rush forward, one of the donkeys brays and tosses its head, yanking the lead rope from the hand of its owner. Both of the animals scurry away from the approaching paras.

 

[Barak]

Aww crap.

For about a second, Normand considers dropping a grenade in front of the mules, in an attempt to get them to turn back towards the group. Luckily, he quickly thinks better of that hare-brained plan. Pointing to the fell that wasn't holding the rains previously, he says, softly.

"Pamuk! Keep that one in your sights!"

To the other arab, Normand attempts to talk in his native language.

"You! Get mules back now! Me follow you."

 

[The Shaman]

The paras get a good look at the faces of the two Arabs in their striped robes as they draw near the kneeling figures. The elder appears to be in his thirties, the other a teenager. The family resemblance is strong.

The older man looks at Normand in puzzlement, then glances back at the donkeys. Apparently able to decipher enough of the Frenchman’s pidgin, he stands slowly, hands still raised, and nods in the direction of the donkeys which are standing a dozen meters away, ears and tails twitching. The Arab keeps his eyes on Normand as he turns and takes a couple of tentative steps toward the animals. Satisfied for the moment that he is not going to be shot in the back, he cautiously calls out to the donkeys, speaking softly and holding out his hands to gently take the lead ropes of the nervous animals.

As the platoon spreads out, Sgt. Müller grabs Marcel’s shoulder. “Follow me. Stay low.” The sergent-chef advances in a crouch toward the head of the column, his head pivoting from side to side as he checks the disposition of the men in the platoon. The sous-officier and the medic join Lt. Ramadier just behind where Kat and the rest of the section have taken up their covering positions.

 

[Barak]

Seeing the mannerisms of the man, Normand is starting to relax a little bit, starting to doubt he's actually a fell. When he glances at him again, after catching the reins, he smiles at him gently, and attempts a few more words in arabic.

"Ok, ok, me no shoot. Need look at you and stuff, then you go on, yes?"

 

[Bobitron]

Marcel follows Müller, tapping whichever legionairre is left at the back on the shoulder and motioning for them to take up watch over the rear of the column. Crouched low, his finger hovers over the safety on his carbine as he weaves through the men.

 

[shadowbloodmoon]

Well, if they didn't know we're here, they do now. Pyotr, seeing that Normand has things well in hand, takes another moment to look around, keeping his ears perked up for anything that seems out of place. It's too quiet. You're getting paranoid again. This is just a coincidence. Be quiet, I'm listening.

 

[The Shaman]

With lead ropes in hand, the Arab man walks slowly back to where the teen kneels on the ground – his eyes flicker from Normand’s face to the rifle in the grenadier’s hands.

Nedjar takes the lead ropes from the Arab and motions for the man to raise his hands once again. “Normand, search him, okay? And Burhan, this one.” Nedjar motions towards the boy. “Barzini – Raffaele – check the bag on this donkey here. Be careful.” The Algerian legionnaire looks at Pyotr, and tilts his head up-canyon

Marcel crouches near Lt. Ramadier and Sgt. Müller as his comrades search the Arabs.

Normand and Raffaele: Search checks, please. Pyotr and Marcel: Figure out any checks you might need to make depending on your actions.