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Wing and Sword: Life During Wartime
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<blockquote data-quote="The Shaman" data-source="post: 2759394" data-attributes="member: 26473"><p>In the alley behind the service station, the legionnaires huddle by a low wooden fence enclosing the tiny garden of the house adjacent to the gas station. From somewhere inside the house Marcel can faintly hear the sound of music playing, a radio or a phonograph perhaps. A little light can be seen peeking around the curtain on the window in the back door, but otherwise the alley is in deep shadow.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: sienna">“<em>Joder Cristo</em>,”</span> Sánchez whispers profanely. He cranes his neck slightly, carefully, attempting to peer around the corner of the fence at the yard of the Esso station. <span style="color: sienna">“I can’t see a <em>putain</em> thing. Everyone stay still.”</span> The Spaniard immediately ignores his own direction and shifts his weight, first toward Ortu and then back to Marcel – a knee pops like a champagne cork as <em>Le Vieux</em> changes position, and he utters a small, frustrated grunt. <span style="color: sienna">“Silvio, Karel, watch the far end of the alley,”</span> he says, his voice barely audible even above the faint sound of the music from across the garden.</p><p></p><p>Leaning back, he places his lips close to Marcel’s ear. <span style="color: sienna">“If shooting starts,”</span> Sánchez says softly, carefully, <span style="color: sienna">“keep an eye on this house, okay? I don’t want some citizen to do something stupid like shoot at us by mistake. Understand?”</span></p><p></p><p>For Pyotr and Normand, the street at the front of the garage seems almost bright by contrast with the Stygian darkness in the alley. Starlight mixed with a faint glow from the streetlights along the main street a couple of blocks away provides a shadowy light that is dimly reflected in the glass panes of the large garage doors. The diffuse light isn’t strong enough to penetrate the deep shadows under the porte-cochere, however, where two gas pumps stand on a low island at the edge of the darkness. Through the windows of the garage doors themselves is an impenetrable inky blackness.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: sienna">“Listen,”</span> Sgt. Katsourianis whispers hoarsely, quickly, to the men kneeling on the dirt sidewalk at the front of the house, <span style="color: sienna">“we have to move fast, short runs. Stay low, watch the windows and doors. David, you and Burhan first. Near corner, then move to the far corner. Go.”</span></p><p></p><p>Nedjar and Pamuk run in a crouch to the corner of the building where a large tree stands. Both peer in the windows briefly, then quickly move along the front of the service station – Nedjar stops and crouches down in the shadows beneath the porte-cochere, disappearing into the dakness, while Pamuk continues to the far corner, peeking around the edge of the building.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: sienna">“All right, you two now. And you,”</span> the <em>sergent</em> says, pointing a finger at Normand’s chest, <span style="color: sienna">“it’s a gas station. No grenades. Now go.”</span></p><p></p><p>Cutting across the side alley, boots crunching on the dirt, the two replacements reach the corner of the garage, in the shadows beneath a leafy eucalyptus. In the shadows are a stack of boxes, piled haphazardly against the wall – at the corner an air nozzle for inflating car tires hangs from a rubber hose coiled on a rack affixed to the wall.</p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 9px"><span style="color: darkgray">All: Sneak and Watch checks, please. Normand and Pyotr’s positions are relative – feel free to describe moving to a different position if you like. Note that Marcel is still off the map at the moment.</span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="The Shaman, post: 2759394, member: 26473"] In the alley behind the service station, the legionnaires huddle by a low wooden fence enclosing the tiny garden of the house adjacent to the gas station. From somewhere inside the house Marcel can faintly hear the sound of music playing, a radio or a phonograph perhaps. A little light can be seen peeking around the curtain on the window in the back door, but otherwise the alley is in deep shadow. [color=sienna]“[i]Joder Cristo[/i],”[/color] Sánchez whispers profanely. He cranes his neck slightly, carefully, attempting to peer around the corner of the fence at the yard of the Esso station. [color=sienna]“I can’t see a [i]putain[/i] thing. Everyone stay still.”[/color] The Spaniard immediately ignores his own direction and shifts his weight, first toward Ortu and then back to Marcel – a knee pops like a champagne cork as [i]Le Vieux[/i] changes position, and he utters a small, frustrated grunt. [color=sienna]“Silvio, Karel, watch the far end of the alley,”[/color] he says, his voice barely audible even above the faint sound of the music from across the garden. Leaning back, he places his lips close to Marcel’s ear. [color=sienna]“If shooting starts,”[/color] Sánchez says softly, carefully, [color=sienna]“keep an eye on this house, okay? I don’t want some citizen to do something stupid like shoot at us by mistake. Understand?”[/color] For Pyotr and Normand, the street at the front of the garage seems almost bright by contrast with the Stygian darkness in the alley. Starlight mixed with a faint glow from the streetlights along the main street a couple of blocks away provides a shadowy light that is dimly reflected in the glass panes of the large garage doors. The diffuse light isn’t strong enough to penetrate the deep shadows under the porte-cochere, however, where two gas pumps stand on a low island at the edge of the darkness. Through the windows of the garage doors themselves is an impenetrable inky blackness. [color=sienna]“Listen,”[/color] Sgt. Katsourianis whispers hoarsely, quickly, to the men kneeling on the dirt sidewalk at the front of the house, [color=sienna]“we have to move fast, short runs. Stay low, watch the windows and doors. David, you and Burhan first. Near corner, then move to the far corner. Go.”[/color] Nedjar and Pamuk run in a crouch to the corner of the building where a large tree stands. Both peer in the windows briefly, then quickly move along the front of the service station – Nedjar stops and crouches down in the shadows beneath the porte-cochere, disappearing into the dakness, while Pamuk continues to the far corner, peeking around the edge of the building. [color=sienna]“All right, you two now. And you,”[/color] the [i]sergent[/i] says, pointing a finger at Normand’s chest, [color=sienna]“it’s a gas station. No grenades. Now go.”[/color] Cutting across the side alley, boots crunching on the dirt, the two replacements reach the corner of the garage, in the shadows beneath a leafy eucalyptus. In the shadows are a stack of boxes, piled haphazardly against the wall – at the corner an air nozzle for inflating car tires hangs from a rubber hose coiled on a rack affixed to the wall. [size=1][color=darkgray]All: Sneak and Watch checks, please. Normand and Pyotr’s positions are relative – feel free to describe moving to a different position if you like. Note that Marcel is still off the map at the moment.[/color][/size] [/QUOTE]
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