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Vryx
Total Likes: 2
Original Post (Thread Starter)
#1068909 09/30/2023 7:49 PM
by Pandemonium
Pandemonium
You are surveying the darkened French countryside from the open door of an airplane. For most of your flight over France, it has been cloudy and still. Once you entered the Rouen area, however, the wind picked up, accompanied by heavy rain and thunderous clouds. The airman by the door is now making final checks, compensating for the sudden onset of the storm that’s been brewing since you entered this area. When he seems satisfied, he nods in your direction. Holding up a hand with three outstretched fingers, the airman mouths the words,

“Three minutes to drop.”

You have been dispatched here in response to a coded message from Aramis, a local resistance leader located southwest of Rouen. His message was cut off mid-transmission but seemed to contain a dire warning about a Black Sun Master, and Section M has sent your team to find out more. Your orders are simple: find Aramis, investigate the Black Sun activity, and eliminate any immediate threats. If Aramis has survived, he may be found to the northeast of the village where the resistance has safehouses. You will use a code phrase to identify him. He will ask in English for a cigarette, and you are to respond, ‘I only have Lucky Strikes.’

"You will also meet a resistance operative named Isabella Schneider. Treat her with care, and she may be a double agent, as she is an Austrian citizen. Yet she has been useful to date, and her archeological knowledge may prove very useful against The Black Sun operation. She could be on the level as well."

The report that put you on a plane over occupied France was simple, ‘Black Sun officer Jans Stöller spotted lorries of gear arriving in the village. Black Sun's presence in the village of Saint Sulac. Garrison… ‘. Evidently, the name of this Black Sun operative was enough to warrant throwing this team together and sending you across the Channel.

As you are recalling these events, the light turns green, and you line up, ready to jump from the plane. As you look out of the open side door, you can see dark clouds, hear the resonating thunder, and then the sudden flash of lighting. The rain almost obscures your vision at this height, and something about this storm feels wrong. It’s too sudden, with no warning and dark clouds seem to have coalesced directly over the village—and only there. Before you can ponder this strange occurrence, the airman signals the first drop; the storm is playing havoc with the plane’s instruments, and they must clear the area as soon as possible.

[OOC: Please introduce your character, the other pregens will also make the jump with you. Though for some reason they are wearing red undershirts. grin This is Captain Swann's 100th jump he is a old hat at this kind of a thing, as such his difficulty is 0. He doesn't have to make the roll, though can do so to see if Momentum is generated. The advantage for doing so is the Momentum generated can help other characters with their jump.

The Canadian though should roll Agility + Athletics test (2d20), difficulty 1. Which means only 1 success is needed to make the jump. The roll is under the Attribute + Skill, with 1 being a critical success. If you had an appropriate speciality in Athletics (Parachuting for example) then any die that rolled less than the skill is also a critical success (worth 2 successes).

Isabella will meet them on the ground, so we can get started while Lionhawke recovers.]
Liked Replies
#1070591 Oct 19th a 12:21 AM
by Lionhawke
Lionhawke
{Isabella}

He was a smoldering mountain of a man, half the size of the vehicle, and obviously trying to keep his emotions in check based upon the intensity of his eyes. His French had a distinct Quebecois accent underneath it - only if you knew. This was not an errant farmer or even a local Bûcheron.

Isabella had been foolish not to have a revolver at the ready from inside the car. And yet, what good would it have done if there had been a full patrol? She had shifted from the driver’s seat on the right side, to the left passenger’s spot - the gear shift positioning allowing the easy movement. The gentleman could see more of the blonde’s attire - herringbone wool hunting trousers and jacket with a white silk scarf peeking out. She cocked her head slightly, especially as he flashed his menacing grin and spoke in English. It was clearly a variation of the resistance code that Aramis was supposed to speak. It was also a challenge.

“I prefer Macdonald Gold Standard to Reemsta.” She responded back in English with the slightest of accents, with a variation of her own referencing the cigarettes that were issued to Canadian soldiers over the German equivalent. “But I have only Gauloises….” The brand often associated with the Resistance. She held his gaze steadily, then winked coyly. “If you wish to kill me over our choice of vices - there are better conversations to be had, sir. I am Isabella….and you are not Aramis. And this is not the best location for those conversations.”
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#1071876 Nov 6th a 08:11 PM
by Lionhawke
Lionhawke
{Isabella}

To stay warmer, Isabella nestled into a crook where two charred wooden beams met, their once sturdy form now buckling into a warped embrace. The scorched remains of the barn whispered of the chaos that once reigned, the air still holding the acrid tang of wet burned embers. A cold draft snuck through the splintered planks, carrying the biting scent of frostbitten earth and something more with an iron tang.

She drew her hunting cloak tighter around her slender frame. Each breath formed a ghostly wisp in the frigid air, the stillness so pronounced that the sound of her breathing seemed like an intrusive rustle in the overwhelming silence. The cold bit through her gloves, numbing her fingers as they pressed against the damp, soot-covered ground, the texture gritty and abrasive. The shotgun resting in the crook of her arms.

Isabella closed her eyes, seeking the warmth from within, the calm center of her being. As she inhaled deeply, her senses began to stretch beyond the immediate sensations of cold and discomfort. The distant howl of the wind through barren fields became a gentle hum in her ears, a stark contrast to the silence within the barn. She could discern the soft, uneven patter of a solitary rat's paws as it scavenged through the debris, the tiny heartbeat a rapid pitter-patter in the quiet.

The faint creaks and groans of the barn settling became a language she understood, the building's lament, its resilience, and its fatigue. Each groan was a story of a day under the sun, a night under the stars, of laughter and life now extinguished. The scent of burnt wood, a poignant reminder of loss, was underlaid with the subtler, sweeter hints of hay that had been stored for a winter that would never come.

Her metaphysical senses unfurled like nocturnal blooms, reaching into the ether for the familiar strands of Aramis’ life energies. The air around her seemed to vibrate with potential, charged with the latent power of the earth and the unyielding spirit of those who had Resisted. In this space between breaths and being, Isabella found a profound connection to the land and her cause…

The sounds of heavier movement broke her reverie. She swung the shotgun around that direction.
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