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. 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.]
The bear-sized, bearded man was clearly uncomfortable. The parachute shoulder straps seems stretched to their limit over the thick wool clothing the man wore on his large frame. Even the dog, Crook, strapped in with the Australian Corporal Sarah Walker, seemed more at ease. He was last in line for the drop, behind them.
He took a pull off his canteen and muttered, "J’ai le feu au cul! They send me on this vindage of a mission as demolition and extraction. They don't say nothing about no jumping out of an airplane! I am a boatman! I am a loon. I am no goose!"
"Crikey, keep yehr gahrters on, mate," said the Corporal. "Yehr scahrin me dog. Ah was catchin a snoozer during the introducin, whatcher say yehr name was?"
"Royal Canadian Seaman Jean-Jacques Lupien, of Quebec," the man answered, "They say they need someone good with boats, who keeps quiet, who can speak French, so I say I'm your man. They say nothing about jumping out of no plane."
"Heh, welcome to Section M," said the little American ahead of Corporal Walker, the mechanic, Private Dan Gregg. He smiled mirthlessly, an unlit cigarette between his lips.
Also in the crew were Sven Nilsen the humorless Norwegian archer with various pagan religious icons, Agent Daphne Rogers, a young Brit who didn't seem like a soldier, and their leader, Captain James Swann from Trinidad. Jean-Jacques didn't mind the quirkiness of the small cadre, he'd lived most of his life with strange assortments of people, including helping to manage a traveling freak show through New England in the States after he'd "gone straight" after Prohibition ended and there was no work needed for the best bootlegger in the Northeast. He'd seen a lot of weird stuff over his life and that was partially why he'd been recruited to Section M. This crew was better than a standard regiment or a battleship but again, he reminded himself, no one said they'd have to jump out of a plane.
He really did not trust that the parachute that looked as big as a handkerchief to him would be able to slow his descent enough. He hefted his axe, which he trusted more than the Welrod MLIIA in his belt, and tried to hold his tongue after a sharp glance from Nilsen until it was his turn to jump.
Approaching the bay doors, he remembered the instructions that had been quickly given to him. He shuddered as the lightning and thunder flashed and sounded close as the pilot yelled at him to go. "It's going to be a short tour for me if this don't work," he muttered. "But maybe I at least land on a Nazi or two."
He unhooked himself from the tether and leapt into the storm.
Jean-Jacques rolls 2d20 I rolled a 17 and a 10 His Agility is 9 and Athletics is +1 so I think target is 10. You said to roll under but the rules seem to indicate it is equal to or less for a success? If so, then that's 1 success.
[OOC: Absolutely correct! The system is roll under, each die counted against Attribute + Skill for a success. 1 is a critical success, 20 a critical failure (though think of the failure as more something interesting happens, not catastrophic failure). In addition of one has a specialty in the skill that fits, then the skill adds additional critical success options like 3 in Athletics (Parachuting) means 1 - 4 is a critical success.
For this jump only 1 success is needed. Though the Commander doesn't need any successes as he has a truth that "Veteran Commando" which means he has had plenty of jumps to be considered an expert. Though Ken can choose to roll and any successes he gets count as above what is needed, ie count towards Momentum.
I will talk about Momentum and Threat as they come into play.
Wonderful post! Love the addition of the period era pistol that I knew nothing about!]
Last edited by Pandemonium; Sun 01/10/2317:46 UTC.
The rain stung like little insects trying to burrow into their skins as they fell through the black night. The wind howled, almost masking the snap of canvas as the chutes opened one by one. A momentary flash of lightning across the sky threatened to reveal their clandestine insertion, but if anyone noticed, there were no signs of it.
Chutes blew this way and that, only the experienced commander seemed immune to the gale. Dropping with complete control, and a stiff upper lip as is the British way.
The private was the first to hit the ground. He landed fine, his chute collasping over him like a rain soaked sheet.
Agent Rogers wasn't so lucky. She was blown off course and a couple of the little assault force saw her get tangled up in some trees.
Once on the ground, they all knew rendevous first, so they could help each other on their way to the little village of Saint Sulac.
They should meet their contact the Austrian someplace between were they just landed and the town.
[OOC: One player in the drop group should make a Reason + Survival (Roll 2d20). Anyone wishing to help out, can roll a single d20, against Reason + Survival, and if a success it will be added to the attempt to find their way to the village. This is a Difficulty 3 roll, which means you need 3 successes to accomplish the task without a hitch.]
Jean-Jacques, despite his fierce countenance, could barely keep his eyes open even after his chute had successfully opened, whispering prayers to Sainte Anne, the patron of Canadians venturing far from home. Despite the chute, the ground rushed up to meet him and he remembered to not meet it with rigid legs and trotted and rolled a bit. Then he regained his feet and detached the parachute and wrapped it up and hid it.
Then, he headed to help Agent Rogers, hefting his axe. Having been working timber since he was a boy scampering up trees to trim problematic branches, getting the slight young lady safely down from the tree was a simple matter.
"Bon soir, madame," he intoned, his rain-soaked musty girth and whiskey-tainted clouded breath suddenly near amidst the branches. "Lache pas la patate, er, hold on to your potatoes is how we say. I mean, don't worry, we'll have you down easy. Grab hold and attache ta tuque!"
With a swipe of the axe, he severed the parachute cords where they'd snarled among the branches over their heads, as he prepared to take on her weight as she became free. It barely seemed to burden him as he dropped the axe and then climbed back down with her.
Once he'd seen to her well-being, Jean-Jacques set to assist the Captain in getting their bearings to reach the rendezvous.
Jean-Jacques Lupien: Reason (6) + Survival (2) = Target 8 Roll 1d20: 5 Reason + Survival assist: 1 success Pande, will you set up a Dice Roller?
Even as Jean approached the tree, he could see something was wrong. Agent Rogers was wrapped in her lines, along with the canvas being tangled in the boughs of the old oak.
Climbing quickly, he knew exactly where to put his hand or his foot and in a moment, was alongside the damsel in distress. As he spoke to her, he wondered if she had hit her head on the way down; she hung limply, and in the rain-soaked darkness, it was difficult to determine anything else.
The axe freed her body, but she came to rest limply in his arms.
At the base of the tree, a flash of lightning from the horrid storm lit up her peaceful features. She appeared as if asleep in that briefest of momentary light. But a friendly hand and a quick touch told the soldier something else. Agent Rogers was gone. She would be of no use on this mission.
It might remind those who knew the statistics that at least 25% of those who jumped out of perfectly good airplanes never survived to reach the ground. The odds were better with this group, but still, they had lost a companion.
The group gathered, stowing their chutes in bowls of roots and other hiding spots. The question might arise if they should take the time to bury the good Agent, or take her body with them, which would certainly impact their chances of success. This was definitely a clandestine mission against a numerically superior force. Surprise was their best advantage.
The captain had landed well, an experienced trooper on these clandestine operations. He moved with the others to where Agent Rogers was hung up as Jean climbed up and freed her. The news of her death was a blow to the mission but casualties were not unexpected.
"We hide her body as well as we are able." he said, looking around for the most likely place to secure her with as little work as possible. They needed to vacate this location in case any chutes had been spotted.
"Oh, petit," Jean-Jacques said, softly, cupping the girl's head in his large hand. She was young enough to be his own daughter, if he'd had one. "You should have stayed in your library. Hell is no place for innocents."
He volunteered to hide her. His second career as a bootlegger in the States had suited him to the task of keeping valuable things out of sight. After respectfully relieving her of her load of their equipment and anything that should not fall into the hands of the enemy, he carried her through some thorny sous-bois, cradling her close to keep her now-cold skin from scratches. There, in a hollowed interior where the moonlight could reach her face but keep her invisible from the other sides of the undergrowth, he laid her gently, crossing her arms and closing her eyes.
The words of the Catholic battlefield prayer did not come perfectly to his lips but he did remember to ask the archangel Michael to protect her body and for Jesus to save her soul. Then he plunged back through les épines heedless of their irritation.
The Captain was all business. He supposed that was how it had to be but Jean-Jacques was already frustrated with how things had gone.
"This is un mauvais présage," he said to Swann, quiet enough to not sound insubordinate. "A bad sign. Was not Agent Rogers supposed to be our expert on these Black Sun enfoirées?"
((OOC, Pande, if the equipment is the same as the pregen, can Jean-Jacques take on the binoculars, first aid kit, Colt detective pocket pistol and ammo, personal occult notes, and ritual tools? With his Brawn, he can be unencumbered with 1 Major and 5 Minor items. His big axe is Major, his own gun and demo kit are Minor, Rogers' gun, binoculars, and notes/tools could take the other three Minor slots.
And Ken, you should do your 2d20 Reason + Survival roll. You're the best guy for that!))
[OOC: Yes take whatever is on the character for use with the group.
With regard to the roll to find their way in the dark and rain, one character rolls 2d20s Attribute + Skill, and anyone else helping rolls 1. Successes count toward the 3 that are needed to make their way without complication.]
Captain looks at the hills and woods in the rain-soaked dark with only flashes of lightning to illuminate anything at all as the Canadian secrets their fallen comrade.
When he returns, the Captain says, "That way, we should find a road that will help us navigate our way through this forsaken night."
His accompanying hand points in a north-easterly direction. The drop hadn't gone as planned, and they ended up on the opposite side of the little village from where they were intended. It would be a hike to get to the area where the resistance forces might be holed up. In addition, they had to skirt the town and risk being discovered at the outset.
The Norwegian pauses, casting his gaze about, and says, "I think you have the right of it, sir. But we might be better off sticking to the woods. Lupien can guide us through the undergrowth, and we will avoid any patrols. No soldier, godforsaken or not, would willingly do more than is absolutely necessary on a night like this. They will patrol the roads but won't leave their warm vehicles. I am sure of it."
As you orient yourselves and start towards the village, a strange vibration rattles your teeth, and your skin feels cold and clammy. The rain seems to beat down harder momentarily as a huge roll of thunder erupts overhead, followed quickly by a bright lightning strike. It feels like a chill wind just cut through you. It passes quickly, but something very strange has just happened.*1
Sven's eyes snap a bit more northerly in direction and focus.*2
OOC:
*1) Each player takes 1 of Stress from a mental attack. Something is most certainly not right and dangerous! *2) Sven determines the source as a nearby supernatural event, possibly the start of a dread ritual. This should give them a feeling of time pressure— something is up, and they do not know what!
3 successes achieved, the way is known. The 20 on the Captain's roll introduces a complication. In this case, the troops landed on the wrong side of the town.
Capt Swan Reason + Survival Roll Made for Ken. Captain Swan Reason + Survival to Navigate to Saint Sulac Pandemonium rolled 1d20,1d20 and got 20, 6
Sven Nielsen (NPC) Reason + Survival Find Saint Sulac Pandemonium rolled 1d20 and got 5
Sven Nielsen Insight + Academia Diff 2 Pandemonium rolled 1d20,1d20 and got 3, 7
Jean-Jacques shrugged at the strange Norwegian's suggestion. "Make no matter to me," he said, stealing off a bit to quietly melt off into the shadows, despite his bulk, to scout ahead. He had spent his mission prep time doing his best to analyze the topographical maps of the area. In case the covert team needed to find a bolt hole quickly, he had a few in mind that might serve.
When lightning lit the sky bright as day for a moment, he felt the unearthly chill, but tried to shake it off for now. "Un mauvais présage," he again muttered, this time in a low growl to himself.
((OOC Jean-Jacques has 1 Courage. Does that apply 1 Resistance to mental damage, thereby reducing the Stress from that attack to 0? Sven Nilsen and Sarah Walker have 2 and 1 Courage, respectively. The other pregens have 0.))
((OOC Also, just to add in, it seems like the pregens are not 100% on par with the Players Guide. Like, Swann has a Will of 10 which should be Courage 2 but he has Courage 0. And Nilsen and Walker seem to be a bit off as well (each should have 1 less, maybe they took from Swann). I was trying to find why but no good answers.. Crook the dog is the most Courageous!))
[OOC: The Quick Start was done before the Player's Guide, so yes there are errors. Probably should update the ones that are PCs, though I haven't had the time to do so. I have read that there is supposed to be an errata but I have unable to find it on the web. I am fine with Cpt Swan getting the correct Courage and lowering the other two. They are Red Shirts any way!]
Last edited by Pandemonium; Fri 06/10/2320:02 UTC.
The little group made their way with expert guidance through the woods and hills. The going is slow. It takes about an hour to reach Saint Sulac. Up to now, the German presence in the area does not seem very remarkable. Only a single patrol was spotted, and they moved perpendicular to your line of march and disappeared quickly into the dense underbrush. When you reach the edge of the village, things are a little different.
The village itself is small, and your intel suggested it is home to less than a hundred people, and the most noticeable building is a stately chateau at its center. If not for the Nazi banner draped out of one window, it would look like a quaint and luxurious retreat from nearby Rouen. From one balcony, an officer scans the area with field glasses. An MG 42 crew sits behind a sandbag barrier, peering out occasionally while smoke from a camp stove rises behind them.
The most disturbing observation you make is the German soldiers here are not normal Wehrmacht. The Black Sun has definitely taken over. They are easily recognizable, with uniforms showing their insignia, prominent gas masks, and helmets. For them to be have taken over this village so completely does not bode well. As you consider this, you notice a handful of scared-looking villagers being escorted at gunpoint into the chateau.
As they observe the scene, they hear the sound of a car coming closer. It is the type of car that their contact was supposed to meet them in. However, seeing into the car with the headlights in the way is next to impossible. The car pulls to the side, avoiding any line of sight from the German troops, and the headlights are extinguished. In the driver's seat is someone who has longer hair, as if a woman or in a wig.
Their amulet had stopped pulling in one direction and was rocking back and forth. The car had drawn Isabella near to the village of Saint Sulac. She smiled wryly at a remembered time that she had hoped to drive to Saint Suliac - further along the coast of Brittany -- and ended up in this village. This was not to be as pleasant, she realized as she saw the scene unfolding slightly further up. She stopped the Delahaye on the side of the road and killed the headlamps.
Jean-Jacques made note of the guards around the chateau. The gun nest could probably be approached close enough where his Welrod might serve, with its night sight and silencer but the balcony sentry would be tough. They'd need something with longer range than what he carried, probably timed with a thunder crack to hide the noise. These Black Sun characters gave him a queasy feeling. Why were they already wearing gas masks, in this weather. Maybe it was to hide something within rather than prevent that which was without.
He gave a silent curse as the villagers were herded into the chateau. Wiping the rain from his binoculars in between glimpses, he attempted to catch details of how many there were and how they approached and were allowed in.
As the sudden trace of the headlamps approached, he lowered the binoculars, so as not to reflect through the cutting rain to the sentry, and ducked down. But once they were turned away, he looked again and caught briefly the flash of blonde in the car.
Not a nice night for a drive, mademoiselle, he thought, sensing trouble. He hoped the Captain knew which of these buildings to the northeast they were supposed to meet Aramis.
As a flash of lightning highlights the passenger in the car, Sven asks, "wasn't one of our contacts supposed to be a blond woman? Should we check the car and see what we can learn?"
"Une femme blonde?" Jacques replied, quietly. "I don't know nothing about no hairs, only that she's an Austrian and we might not be able to trust her. I guess they all got blonde hairs over there, eh?"
He wiped the rain from his face and looked at the others. "We're supposed to find Aramis in one of these buildings, no? Maybe this lady knows, sure. But maybe this lady's the reason we don't see Aramis nowhere, eh? Or maybe this is some other lady."
He looked back over at the car. "You want I should go find out? If she's some other Nazi lady maybe she don't get out of the car for a while? I keep it real quiet."
Jean-Jacques nodded to the Captain and slipped off his bulky pack, carefully placing it on the ground and laid his axe across it. He wanted to appear as close to a citizen of Saint Sulac, not a well-equipped invading soldier. He only made sure to bring his Welrod, silencer in place, near at hand but tucked out of sight.
Then he approached the car, a shadow separating from the undergrowth, on the dark passenger side, opposite from the chateau.
Rain poured off his huge form as he bent at the waist to peer inside. He knocked his left knuckle on the window three quick times.
It had been a few minutes since she’d pulled over. Isabella was confident that the car was out of line of sight from the village and the Nazi perimeter. But would they have roaming guards? The young woman sensed a shadow approaching on the passenger side of the car. She held her breath waiting for another figure to come along the driver’s side. Three raps on the passenger window jolted her — but then she realized the amulet had stopped rocking and had stayed slightly shifted to that side.
***Elsa……you better be right*** she thought wryly, before shifting over roll the window down. There wasn’t another guard on the driver’s side. That was at least a good sign.
“J’ai des problèmes de voiture.” Isabella claimed car troubles as she slowly rolled the window down. She regarded the hulking, bearded man leaning down into the car. He was not a German soldier and certainly not a Black Sun.
Car trouble, huh? thought Jean-Jacques. Not sure about that one. His breath clouded the window as it descended. When it was low enough, he leaned an arm and shoulder on the door frame. His movement was casual but his mind was calculating and the rain pouring down his rugged countenance and wild beard was likely menacing.
He tried to tell himself this woman might not be his enemy but seeing her snug in her fine automobile, and thinking of Agent Rogers, dead and suspended in an oak, it was a struggle for him. She'd left her home to save the French and didn't even survive long enough to get her boots on the patrie. He tried to tell himself that it was unlikely he would use his left arm, which he had been sure to position to allow such, to lunge and grab the woman about the throat before she could scream. He tried to tell himself that his right hand, low and out of view, would not be needed to fire a bullet through the clutched Welrod's suppressor into her head. He tried to tell himself that if she were indeed a double agent that her own courage to be around these sous-merde Nazi bastards was equal to or surpassed likely his own or Agent Rogers'. He tried, but it was likely his rage and necessary preparation for immediate violence showed in his eyes as much as his affected tone was light.
"Peut-être je peux vous aider," he offered to help the lady, commenting on the foulness of the evening. "Mauvaise nuit pour sortir." He grinned and his white teeth flashed through the dark, black beard predatorially.
And then, switching to English, and locking eyes with the woman, he asked, "Do you have a cigarette?"
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.”
Jean-Jacques heard the woman's clever turns of phrase and felt both unnerved and sheepish. This Isabella indeed seemed to be the ally they'd expected and he felt gauche about his thoughts and behavior. She was clearly of quicker mind than him, and possessed a steely confidence that was unexpected to him and admirable. But he possessed the rogue's wariness of anyone who seemed like they held far more cards than he.
It took him a beat to reply. When he did, he first lowered his head to give her a semblance of a bow in the cramped quarters. "Excusez-moi, madamoiselle," he said, then continuing in English, "But you know we got to take no chance here." His tone was of embarras réprimandé.
He holstered again the Welrod and held a fist upward, clear enough to signal the Captain but not above the roof of the Delahaye which sheltered him from view of the chateau.
While he waited for whomever else would approach, he said, "You got good taste, lady, seems like, eh? Cigarettes are no cause de la bataille but whiskey, now..."
He chuckled. "Jean-Jacques Lupien du Québec, Marine royale," he introduced himself and then continued in a husky whisper. "And, no, we need to find Aramis. Do you know where is the safe house? Bad news if he was one of those taken in that chateau just now, I think, eh?"
Jean-Jacques Lupien Insight + Observation Diff 1, Target 10 Vryx rolled d20,d20 and got 3, 3 Two Successes Two near misses for a crit if "Instincts" is a relevant Focus, but near misses only count with hand grenades in WWII
[OOC: As the group acquaints itself with each other. Each PC/NPC gets to make an Insight + Observation test difficulty 1. As they watch the troops and the town.]
"Enchante, mon ami." Isabella smiled slightly as Jean-Jacques relaxed slightly. "I have not heard word from Aramis. The safe house is in the village nearby. I was supposed to meet him at the inn’s brasserie. How many of you are there? I obviously can only take one. It is only a ten minute drive from here. Though I am surprised the Black Suns have not taken it over and focus on the chateau."
[OOC: Sorry, I got distracted this weekend. Isabella Insight + Observation Lionhawke rolled 1d20,1d20 and got 13, 5. Not sure what that means. I'll focus on story. Thanks.]
As the group continues to observe the troops, they note that there aren't any heavy vehicles, yet the road seems to have seen plenty of traffic of late.
Captain Swan looks about and notes that if he were setting up the troops, he would put snipers up high, probably on a roof or two.
There are no lights in the area. The only light provided by portable standing spot lights.
As they back off of the road they can just make out a farmer out in a field trying to herd some recalcitrant cows back towards his barn.
[OOC: You need not worry about how things will go. Play your characters and I will take care of the rest. ]
Jean-Jacques grunted quietly. Then he said, with some heaviness, "We only got five left. Wait here, please."
He extracted himself from the car window and slipped off into the shadows back to the Captain and the others. As he shrugged back on his pack and grabbed his axe, he reported, "Yeah, that's her. She called Isabella. She say she don't know where Aramis at. He was supposed to meet her and didn't show up. She know where the safehouse is but she didn't go there yet. She said it ten minutes in the petit car."
Jean-Jacques huffed a laugh. "No sir, not even with the contortionist dwarfs I used to work with in the cirque, we get more than one in that car there. But if that's where Aramis be, somebody got to go there, even if it's walking in this rain, no?"
The Captain knew that Aramis as their local resistance contact would have the most up to date intelligence on the Black Sun troops. He would have an idea of where they would be their weakest and strongest. If they could find him, he would be an invaluable resource. He was also supposed to be their boots on the ground support too.
She sat there as the big Québécois headed back to his unit of five. She looked at the car and laughed. It was definitely not a troop car, the bit of vanity she had retained to keep up appearances with the Reich. As the minutes drifted, Isabella checked back on the status of the Black Sun troops taking over the chateau. There was something there that the Nazis wanted. And that meant there was something that she needed to protect.
"Merde." This was taking too long. She reached back into her bag and pulled out a map and a pen. Then, with a look around for any other movements, she grabbed the entire bag and exited the car following back to where she had seen Jean-Jacque disappear. "Venez ici." She whispered at the forest edge.
[OOC: The troops are on the north end of the town, the farm that Aramis is supposed to be at, is at the south end. Burned out Farm is where the resistance is supposed to be.]
Last edited by Pandemonium; Tue 24/10/2303:17 UTC.
Jean-Jacques heard the whispered call from Sven that Isabella had gotten out of the car and was already getting to the forest edge when she herself called out.
"Women, eh?" he muttered to Sven, ignoring the disapproving scowl from the Australian Corporal Sarah Walker. He emerged from the shadows, now wearing a large backpack and carrying a hefty long-hafted logging axe.
He attempted to hustle her under cover and growled, "You gotta stay in that car, lady. Someone drive by, they see an empty car, they start looking around. We don't want that. You Germans... Austrians... whatever. So impatient."
He had a point, as she huddled down, but Isabella didn't like to be manhandled and stiffened a bit before shoving the map at him. "Open it. We are here." She circled the road to the chateau. "And you need to get here." She circled the burned out farm.
"I'll meet you there. That is now the plan." She didn't wait for another answer, before checking her passage back to the car.
[OOC: I was just going to make something up. This is much better. hope that the scene helped.]
Jean-Jacques showed some amusement at the smaller woman's annoyance. After she had marked the map, he raised an eyebrow and commented, "The country roads here must be like Emmental français if it takes ten minutes to drive a kilo, eh?"
But when he looked up, the woman was already gone, stalking back up through the mud in her fine clothes. With a chuckle, he folded the map up into his jacket to go and share it with the Captain.
[OOC: Not far from the Barn on the Northern Road is where the group is located at the moment. They will have to go around the town to avoid patrols, or sneak through if they want to take the straightest and most dangerous route. That is what I meant by they parachute landed on the wrong side of the town. Now you can see it. ]
He looked over the map quickly, picking out the potential routes.
"We will head south along this hedgeline in the field for cover and then through the woods before crossing the road and heading for that burned out farm." he said, folding the map and tucking it away.
She returned to the Delahaye and got back in, starting it up, keeping the lights off until she was headed the opposite direction from the Chateau. Isabella did not like how this mission already seemed on the wrong foot. She cautiously made her way to the rendezvous point at the burned out farm. Pulling the car off into a semi-destroyed carport - it gave some cover.
Exiting the car, Isabella pulled out her messenger bag from the passenger seat, but then went around to the trunk and pulled out a large shotgun and shells arming herself. It would be a few moments before the mission team arrived, but she was curious that none of the Resistance had revealed themselves yet.
[OOC: So they are bypassing the farmer and not asking any questions?
Each player can make a Agility + Stealth for their trek. Also please make an Insight + Observation test. Both are Difficulty 1, so only 1 success is needed. ]
[OOC: Actually, I made an assumption that it was burned out and therefore abandoned - which is why the Resistance would use it. Do you want to write a scene with a farmer ambling up? Or, do you want me to include something?]
((OOC I believe he's talking about the farmer herding cows near the Barn to the northwest. I am not sure what the Captain's orders and the mission are, regarding this. I'd assume we're not supposed to make ourselves known to anyone? But maybe we're supposed to get whatever info we can from the locals, too? Even if one has an exclamation point over his head asking for help gathering cows?))
[OOC: Vyrx has it correct. The farmer is busy in the dark and rain herding cows. He won't notice them unless the PCs choose to approach. How you decide to handle the locals is entirely up to you. As traditional with a situation like this, you might have some who dislike the Nazi oppressors or other sympathizers. It could go either way.]
Jean-Jacques set out to find a stealthy way to stick to the hedgerows south and west to the further treeline as the Captain ordered. He knew they'd need to stay out of sight of the town but that farmer and his cows were on the same side as their unit and lightning lit them up like a spotlight. Maybe that barn could be cover. Or maybe...
"Captain," Jean-Jacques whispered to Swann, "What you think about that old fermier? If he sees us, he might know no better than to start shooting or calling for help. But maybe somebody talk to him and get him to keep quiet. If he's a partisan, maybe the nice way or if not, maybe the other way?"
As the troops sneak away from the farmlands leaving the farmer to his herding of cows in the dark and rainy night.
They sneak their way along the roads but sticking to brush cover as they are able. They might watch the woman drive off in her car as she takes a circuitous route towards the south.
As they travel they note that most men and beasts don't want to be out on a night like this. At one point there is another flash of lightning and thunder rolls almost immediately as it blasts above them. As it does so they all feel a cold chill, a veritable wave of fear passes over their skin.
These soldiers are seasoned, but even this particular effect takes a few by surprise.
Soon they come to the south of the village, seeing fire damaged farms.
[OOC: This time the mental attack is 2. Those with courage of 1 a resistant to some of the effects, but almost everyone feels it for a bit. By the time they reach the burned out farms, they are recovered though.
What do you do when you arrive at the cluster of burned out farms?]
Jean-Jacques led the small contingent from cover to cover across the fields and farms surrounding Saint Sulac, years of experience avoiding U.S. Marshals and Border Patrol agents in the deep woods of Maine and the rivers of Vermont and New Hampshire, now supporting the activities of the government.
When he felt the physical proximity of the lightning flash and subsequent boom of thunder, though, even he was shaken somewhat.
"Non naturel," he muttered to himself, hurrying his steps to get to shelter as soon as possible.
When in close sight of the burned out farmstead, he pulled out the field glasses to check what he could make out from cover, as the others joined to take a brief rest to shake off the chill of the strange storm, Private Gregg hiding the lit end of his cigarette in a cupped hand to shield it from view.
Jean-Jacques checked for Isabella's car in addition to any activity in or around the farm.
A careful survey of the area he can spot her with her car hidden slightly by the foilage she has applied.
Looking around Jean can spot signs of battle. There are obvious bullet marks through some of the still standing boards. The area looks as if it has intentionally burned so that it can't be used for anything else. There are no signs of any life.
It was cold out, and the sudden shiver down her spine didn't help. Isabella waited for the others to arrive, remaining vigilant with her shotgun ready if needed. There would be little talking her way out of this particular spot if found by the Nazi's.
"Wo ist der Widerstand?" Isbella wondered under her breath.
As Isabella and Captain Swann look over the area both come to the conclusion that a firefight happened here. But no one is hiding here now. That is why the buildings are burnt to the ground. The Black Sun troopers made sure no one could use the places again.
Captain Swann as an experienced officer understands tactics and can see both sides and their thinking. He also imagines that if any resistance soldiers survived the battle here they would have sought refuge in buildings that are still standing or fled. Maybe to the North of town where they just came from?
They will have to seek help from the locals or search farm to farm on their own.
The real question will be which way to go about it?
Last edited by Pandemonium; Thu 02/11/2316:11 UTC.
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.
Isabella saw them approach the big Canuk and a tanned woman commando with a dog at her side. The dog is sniffing the air and ground as it comes nearer, not seeing Isabella as a threat yet.
Isabella's senses told her that the scorched Earth policy had worked. Nothing was living within the range of her feelings.
Assuming the trio does a fairly thorough search, they and Crook, the pet associate of the Aussie commando, all confirm there are no survivors in the burnt-out remains of the several farms.
It is now entering early morning, and the rain has not slowed. They have a few more hours before false dawn will approach and make their activities easier to spot.
They will have to seek help from the locals or head back west and north, doing a farm-to-farm search on their own to locate the resistance operatives if they still live.
Or they will have to press on blindly with greater risk.
Jean-Jacques, Walker, and Crook made their way up the muddy slope to the farm. Jean-Jacques had noted Isabella disappear from view inside the scant shelter of the burned out barn. A nod from the Australian Corporal told him she had seen as well.
When they got close enough, Walker and Crook moved to the farmhouse remains while Jean-Jacques crossed to the barn. Upon entering where he'd seen the Austrian woman, he found himself face to face with the end of a Winchester 12-Gauge.
His chuckle was low and menacing, a small thunder amid the greater tempest. "Now, that's a loud boy that probably make us all dead real soon even if you shoot someone not so nice like me." He hefted the logging axe in his hands. "Night work is for quiet work, n'est pas?"
He stepped back to the other side of the pointless doorway. "So I don't see no Aramis, eh? I don't see no nobody. You think they got 'em? Or maybe they pull up the stakes when they see the torches coming. That's what you got to do sometime when trouble find you, eh?"
He paused as he watched the shadows of Walker and Crook explore the farmhouse. Memories came back to him of a red firelit night and the carnies hustling to save what they could and get the wagons going. The smell of recent burning of a place that had had the stink of life never sat right with him.
Looking around, he didn't get a sense of there being a hidden bolt hole in the barn or house.
"Maybe that farmer with the cows saw something. Captain didn't want us to talk to nobody but hey, you don't report to him, eh?"
((OOC: Clarifications, please? Does "no survivors" mean there are corpses? Or No sign of people at all? No scents for the dog to track?))
As they explore the burned out remains of three different farms they begin to pick out what they thing is the order of events. The troopers cornered some foes in the first farm, burnt it to the ground chasing the survivors to the second farm. They repeated their tactics on to the third. Though there are cellars and other possible hiding places, they all were thoroughly exposed and explored.
Corporal Walker is masterful with Crook her canine companion. The pair work as a team, swiftly exploring and following scents. As they cover ground a few things are apparent. There are no corpses, they must have been taken away because even in the heat of the fire some sign should have remained.
The battle started farthest south and progressed north and east. The battle was swift moving but still took a hour or more.
It isn't until the last burned out ruin of a barn that Crook latches on to a scent. He begins to drag Walker excitedly more north westward. Jean spots a possible reason why there is a sign of fresh blood, the splatter indicating someone was running the direction Crook is heading.
Crook gets 3 successes. Because he is an NPC, no momentum is banked, but all three are used on the roll. Crook knows exactly where the blood trail leads and is taking them to it, assuming they follow the dog. Crook Tracking Scent Pandemonium rolled 1d20,1d20 and got 4, 2
"N'est pas." Isabella had to smile a little and nod an acknowledgment when the big Canuck noted the ruckus shotgun would have caused. So she was pleased not to need to use the weapon and relaxed with it. She continued to watch him, unsure if she trusted any of them yet and sure that they didn't trust her. Isabella was considering his proposition to talk to the farmer when the dog picked up a scent.
"Best to leave him alone. He would only become a target if the Black Suns have started herding the locals." She responded in English as they followed what was clearly a blood trail. Isabella started to consider their options without the support of Aramis and the resistance. First they would need to find shelter for the day. Her contact at the inn would be of little help to handle a squad like this.
Their trip is less stealthy this time around, but Crook leads them north and east away from the Chateau. Eventually they cross a small rise and spy a cluster of three farm buildings together.
With Crook's help, it is easy to identify which building is the best choice to search, it is an old farmhouse with a cellar door that they have to search a little bit to locate. It has been obscured by debris that have fallen due to the heavy rainfall.
Isabella spots a bloody handprint, which is silhouetted in a lightning strike flash. The bloody handprint is on the door and bloodstains on its stairs.
If one of them listens for sounds, they might also hear an occasional cough from the cellar someone is in.
It had been a longer trek than expected following the dog. And while geared for hunting, Isabella was sure that her Canadian friend was amused that the Austrian's boots were now muddied and her blonde hair was starting to stick to her face. The leader of the squad, Captain Swann had been the briefest of introductions, directed a question her way as the others locked and loaded their weapons.
"Yes. Aramis and I have met before." She nodded, realizing that it also meant that she should go first. Isabella edged forward. "And I know other passcodes for the local resistance. Perhaps it is best that I don't have this in hand." She gave her shotgun to the captain and headed down the stairs. As she made her way, Isabella idly fiddled with the necklace and amulet at her neck. She knew someone was injured below, she needed to start gathering her powers to help them - just as she had with her sister. Just as she always did.
"Hey," Jean-Jacques breathed to Isabella. "You know they gonna be a little froggy if they just got shot up and burned out. They don't gonna see me but I pull you out if there a problem."
He moved very quietly for a large man at her side like a musky shadow and pressed his back against the stone basement wall in the darkness next to the door, axe in hand.
As they considered their options, they hear an occasional cough.
The cellar door was a little stiff but opened easily enough. It revealed a set of wooden stairs leading down without any kind of a rail. At the bottom was something earthen, possibly with stone, tough to tell at this range.
Down the stairs, she went. They creaked and groaned but were solid enough. At the bottom, she stood upon a dirt-covered natural stone floor. This cellar was old, given its rustic demeanor. Over against one wall sat a straw-filled mattress with a man upon it. His eyes were watching her in the gloom. There was just enough light from the high encasement-style windows to make out his form, but only the lightning strikes gave a staccato view of their surroundings. It was a farmhouse cellar with a work table and storage shelves.
Shining a bright light at her, the man said in French, "Who are you? Identify yourselves!"
"Je suis Isabelle." She began by giving her name in French followed by her friendship with Aramis. "Je suis un ami d'Aramis. Ensemble, nous étranglons Les Boche." It was an old code, even started in The Great War, but she hoped that by making it personal it would make him think.
"You are injured, I can heal you." She continued in French and then in English. "Then we can talk."
The man hesitates and doesn't answer immediately. Jean knows that wasn't the most recent code that they were supposed to use. But evidently, she knew the man from her phrasing.
"Sacré bleu!" He exclaimed. "Ça ne peut pas être?" (It cannot be?).
He sets the light down so that it offers a dull glow that illuminates the small cellar well enough and no longer interferes with their sight.
He switched to heavily accented English. "Do you have a cigarette that I can have?"
They might remember their briefing: He will ask in English for a cigarette, and you are to respond, ‘I only have Lucky Strikes.’
Aramis appears to be injured, and anyone who is trained in Healing can tell the wounds are not fatal. He needs medical care, but doesn't look like he is dying.
She thought to have recognized the voice and perhaps the form, so Isabella was relieved when the Frenchman moved forward to actually be Aramis. She went on to confirm the official codes.
"I only have Lucky Strikes." Isabella said in English and then knelt beside him as she saw Aramis relax. She did a quick survey of his wounds, and then looked back at the squad. "Do you have a medic amongst you?"
Her amulet warmed a bit, as was its nature in times of need. But, she was reluctant to expend the energies so early in this endeavor. In the least, she muttered a minor magical mantra that would have the effect of calming him further. Isabella put her hand on Aramis' arm and looked deeply into his eyes.
"It has been a long time, mon ami. We'll get you fixed up. Then tell us the situation."
Jean-Jacques signaled the all-clear to the Captain and then followed Isabella all the way in, lowering his axe. As she asked if there were a medic, a shadow flitted across his face and he gave a brief shake of the head.
"Bonsoir, Aramis," he said, as he knelt and removed his pack. He took out Agent Rogers' medical kit and opened it.
The swarthy American, Private Dan Gregg, upon seeing the injured resistance contact, offered in English, "I'm best with fixing up machines but I can probably lend a hand."
((OOC if Isabella is using the pre-rolled stats of Rogers, she is the best qualified to make a Medicine roll. But Gregg is best out of the rest. Using the medical kit grants Momentum for 1 extra die on the roll.))
"The troops discovered us south of town and we had a firefight, which is where I took this through and through." He grimaced at the wound.
"They are Black Sun and are led by Master Jans Stöller. He was identified when the convoy stopped in the village and the local commander saluted and called him by name."
"I have no idea what they are up to but they were definitely carrying a lot of equipment. I watched the Black Sun takeover of the village and them unloading the trucks into the chateau. I went to the farm nearby where the radio was to make my report."
"When the Black Sun started rounding the villagers up and taking them to the chateau, it gave the resistance an impossible dilemma. Should they idly stand by while their friends and family were taken away for who knows what dark purpose? I urged caution, but when young Francois saw his wife and children being dragged away kicking and screaming from his nearby home, it incensed him so much he couldn’t restrain himself. He charged outside and opened fire.
"In the gun battle that followed, the farm that the resistance was temporarily using south of town was burned to the ground. However, the Black Sun were sloppy during the attack. They killed many livestock and created a lot of smoke, which made it easier for a few resistance survivors to slip away under cover.
Aramis knows the Black Sun are involved in the attack but what do they want? Were they trying to provoke the resistance into a response? What do they want with the villagers? What are they up to inside the chateau?
"You must help."
[OOC: Coordination + Medicine test with a difficulty of 1 to make Aramis more comfortable. Private Dan Gregg can pinch hit for a medic if necessary. Both Isabella and Sven Nilsen and heal using magic.
There is more information, but I wanted to give you a chance to interact and ask questions.]
Apparently it was the medic that had died on the drop, she sighed. All Isabella had hoped for was some non-magical healing, but started do the magical prep-work along with the physical while Aramis spoke.
"We will, Aramis. We will." She spoke soothingly as she loosened her scarf and let her amulet loose as her foci for the healing spell. "Now. Rest for a moment while I start to work on your wounds."
[OOC: sorry. I got distracted on Friday, and never got back to writing. Tell me what I need to role again? I really didn't pay attention. :)]
[OOC: It isn't necessary to use Magic on Aramis, unless you wish to. A simple Coordination + Medicine will offer him respite. One of the NPCs the mechanic can do so.
However to discuss the nature of magical healing. All magic is uncertain and carries with it risk. Stress is the toil it takes upon the caster, in the form of fatigue, and eventually damage, if they don't recover from the stress.
Included in the write up are ways that Momentum can be spent. At the present time there are 4 in the Momentum pool, should you wish to spend any or all. Remember you can buy an additional d20 for one Momentum to improve your chances to come up with a better result, in addition to the spends listed below.
Healing This simple two step ritual provides healing, fixing physical wounds, mental trauma or repairing the psychic damage inflicted by the terrors of the Mythos.
Outcome: The caster defines whether they are attempting to heal physical or mental stress. Stress is healed a number of equal to the caster’s power.
Miscast: If this spell is miscast, it inflicts stress, rather than healing, to both caster and patient. The caster can decide what proportion of that stress is suffered by each and might choose to absorb all this damage themselves rather than risk further injuring their charge.
For 2 Momentum, all affected allies heal a single injury (physical or mental).
For 1 Momentum, any defeated allies within range recover immediately.
For 2 Momentum, the spell affects allies within medium range instead.]
[OOC: Sorry. I misread the previous post, so I'll let the physical medic take over.]
{Isabella}
After relaxing him, she soon realized that Aramis didn't need as much healing work as originally thought. Isabella had seen the one of the American privates move forward and would probably use him to finish up. She intoned words of a healing and relaxation mantra she had read in Vedic, as she shifted to the less costly and more effective physical work.
"Private. Hand me those tools. I can take the worst of it. You can finish up." The talking and mantra distracted her for a moment, and she fumbled at first. It had been a while since she had patched someone up. But with the medkit, she took the worst of the holes out of the resistance fighter.
[OOC Here were the rolls. Based upon my poor understanding - it is a d20 game and that with Coordination & Medicine she needed a 12. The first aid kit seems to give a second d20.
2023-11-24 22:01:30 Isabella physical medic work Lionhawke rolled 1d20 and got 7 2023-11-24 22:00:24 Isabella physical medic work Lionhawke rolled 1d20 and got 15
Every roll is 2d20. The target is attribute plus skill. Roll under. Say 8 is the attribute and 3 is the skill, target is 11 or less with 1 2 or 3 being worth two successes because they are considered critical success.
You did it right by doing two rolls the 7 is a success the 15 is a failure.
But even one success offers some benefit for helping Aramis.
In game terms....
Isabella's skilled hands wrap the wound and stop the blood loss. A bit more care and he is made as comfortable as they can make him.
OOC more to post this weekend but I wanted to get this out
((ooc she gets one more d20 from the first aid kit, right? Total of 3d20?
And critical on 3 or less would be because she has a focus of 3? We should put the pre-gens' stats up in the forum, maybe? I'm happy to help with that))
"Thank you my friend," he addresses Isabella for her aid.
He continues his narrative of recent events.
"Whatever is going on, the chateau is the key. These Black Sun have the entrances locked down now, and it looks like they expect trouble. We are too weak and scattered to fight them, so you must help us, rescue our women and children, and put a stop to whatever foul business they are conducting in there.
"A direct assault would be suicide, although I suppose you might try to bluff your way in. That, too, would be extremely risky, for who knows what sorcery and foul magic they use to identify their own?
"Thankfully, there is another way; there are tunnels under the village, cellars, and earthworks going back before the time of Rome, which they run like a spider’s web out from the chateau. They were said to once be the haunt of creatures of the dark and a foul cult from pagan times, but that was centuries ago and probably just an old wives’ tale.
"It is a risk, but the tunnels are the best way to get inside without being seen. Go to my dairy on the other side of the village. In the barn is a milk truck. If you move it, there is a trapdoor that will lead you into the cellars and tunnels. There are also lamps in a crate. I have never seen any sign of Germans there. Those keys will also unlock the barn and let you move the milk truck to get to the trapdoor.
Isabella gently finished her medical work and patted Aramis on the arm reassuringly. She listened the details of what would be apparently their best plan. The Austrian woman looked up at the hardened soldiers that had crossed the world to save these people. She was a little intimated by her role in all this. She had had her share of adventures - but charm and knowledge of the occult were her skills. That and she knew her way with an epee.
"Vive la France." Isabella said it like one would say 'amen'. "It seems we have our way in. And I need to discover what Master Jans Stöller is up to...."
Jean-Jacques had somehow located a dusty wine bottle in the cellar that was a third full. After removing the cork, he sniffed at it. It had not completely soured so he took a swig and screwed up his face in mild disgust. The burning felt good against his throat after the chill of the unnatural storm.
He half-heartedly offered it to the Captain, in silence, as Aramis told his tale.
"Tunnels, eh?" he asked, skeptically. The idea of crawling in a small, enclosed space appealed to him less than the wine. "Il mauvaise nuit, continues."
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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. 
![[Linked Image from i.imgur.com]](https://i.imgur.com/FChX5N7.jpeg)
"Royal Canadian Seaman Jean-Jacques Lupien, of Quebec," the man answered, "They say they need someone good with boats, who keeps quiet, who can speak French, so I say I'm your man. They say nothing about jumping out of no plane."
Thanks.]![[Linked Image]](https://www.dreamlyrics.com/forums/gallery/757/full/19622.png)
