Play@YSDC

October 2nd, 1918. Dusk.


Most of you grabbed your full kit and moved out not knowing how long you'd be moving or if you'd be back it seemed like a good idea, but damn was that kid heavy. You and the rest of the men meet up with 3rd and 4th platoons - more young and scared men - and head for the edge of the valley. On the way, more shells fall with the freezing rain, and men huddle into the smoking craters which are the only decent shelter around. You can see one man who closes his eyes in the crater as if when he opens them the war will have just been a bad dream. Another man in his platoon gives him a kick and drags him to his feet.


The men of 2nd platoon (you) are taking up the rear. As you cross a small creek Corporal Larch trips and turns his ankle on a strange dull black stone jutting out of the ground.

OOC,I'm gonna stop here for reactions and/or you guys to add flavor to your march. Larch will have a penalty roll on his next physical or skill roll that might require his feet. Sorry peterson, you just rolled highest :)

"You okay, Corporal?" asks Nick, peering at the stone. "Weird-looking thing. Well, look on the bright side. At least it's not a land mine." While he'd help if he could, he's not very good at patching up people. If Larch had been an automobile that punctured a tire, he could have replaced or reinflated it in no time flat, but he was at a loss here. Fortunately, Larch was perfectly capable of dealing with his own injury.

Larch let out a resounding curse as he hit the mud.

"Thanks for the concern, Private. Now if only you were a pretty nurse, I'd let you feel up my ankle. As it is, I'll just give myself a quick seeing to."

Larch feels his leg, trying to ascertain if the bone isn't broken. He grunts as he feels the bruise, but lets out a sigh of relief.

"Bruised, but it shouldn't kill me, not unless you bastards start running if the Hun shows up."

He laughs and looks around to see what he tripped over.

[Spot Hidden rolls please]

Birdy unslung his rifle, just in case.

"The Hun wouldn't be crazy enough to march through freezing rain and mud like us. Or maybe they would. There is plenty of crazy to go round" he sighed, keeping an eye out.

OOC:   1d100=46

Spot Hidden 45℅ [dice]0[/dice]

Ever alert, Nick notices something.

The stone is dull black and worn, the angular corner of what seems to be a much larger, buried stone. While not very large itself, it is sufficient enough to catch a distracted soldier.

"I'd check if your gear is still in working condition," Cpl. Grimm suggests.

Pvt Nick Parker,You notice the rock has a faint spiral pattern that has been etched into it - clearly not done naturally.

"Looks like this is just the tip of the iceberg," says Nick, puzzling over the stone. "This isn't natural. Someone carved a spiral pattern into it. Weird."

"Take it along then if you like it, Private, you might even throw it at the Hun if your gun jams." Freddy quips as he sorts through his pack to see if everything is intact.

With a shrug, Nick takes out his entrenching tool and begins to dig the stone free.

The other soldiers in your squad begin to crowd around Nick as Sgt. Maddox takes a quick smoke break. A little more of the rock as become revealed, but it is clearly attached to something much larger and will not be dug up easily.


[Anyone may make an archaeology roll to learn more]

Birdy, being tall, leaned over to have a look at the curious object.

"Huh. Never theen anything like that. Mutht be some kind of Nazi thing..." he offered, in a kind of vaguely but not actually knowledgeable way. He shouldered his rifle, however, reassured it was not some booby trap linked to an ambush.

[/ooc]1d100=66[/ooc]

"I don't know what the hell it is," says Nick as he digs. "This would go faster if you guys helped."

OOC,It's 1918. The Nazis don't exist yet.

"How about we kip here for a while, Sarge? My ankle would be grateful and the men seem to have more appetite for digging than for walking."


Larch remains seated, making sure his ankle is properly supported with some bandages, and watches the men dig.

As the other soldiers in your squad gather around they chime in with their opinions, "It's just a stupid rock", "I don't think that's from around here", "Yeah I haven't seen that type of rock", "Shaddup Parks, you don't know a your ass from a hole in the ground, don't act like you know rocks", "Freddy is just trying to get a break."

Sarge stubs out his cigarette and turns to the squad, "What do you think this is Corporal? A NATURE HIKE!? There's a war on and we ain't gonna win it if we gotta stop every time one of you jackasses gets a boo-boo. We're lagging behind because of your sorry ass, now squad, MOVE OUT!" Sarge yells and pisses and moans about everyone trying to dog it when they haven't even started the search, but you have a sneaking suspicion he let you stop so that he didn't have to hike while he smoked.

Putting a little more hustle in your step, your squad quickly catches up with the rest of 2nd platoon and rejoins 3rd and 4th platoon. The group of fifty-odd soldiers at last come to the edge of the valley where they find a group of three soldiers stringing barbed wire around the perimeter. They stop and salute Lt. Wilhelm, who tells them the group's mission; "Heading into the woods, Major Whittlesey wants us to find B and D company and bring them in out of the cold." The engineers nod and part the wire with poles to allow the unit to crawl under on the cold, sleeted ground. At the very least it wasn't freezing cold mud. As the last of your squad passes you hear one of the engineers murmurs "Poor bastards.... won't wait up for them."


Beyond lies the foreboding depths of the Argonne forest.

Nick regards the ominous forest as he approaches it with the others. This is it, he thinks, recalling what the engineer had said. That forest is where I'm gonna die. I'm not coming out of it alive.

Larch was happy for the five minute rest, but his ankle still gave him hell. He tried to turn his grimace into a grin as he cheered the men on.

"Out least in the forest, we'll have roots to trip over instead of rocks, men, and when I do, you can drag me on in a stretcher."

The three platoons move out into the forest, mere feet into the treeline and you're enveloped in near total darkness. The ground rises and falls in jagged slopes, without a path to be seen anywhere. Boulders and tangled undergrowth block the way, and the trees loom silently all around, stretching into the cloud-choked sky. The sleet has turned into a light mist, limiting visibility to the end of your bayonet. The thunder of the explosions recedes into the distance, fading into ghostly thumps and echoes.

The hike is back-breaking, always up and then down hill. More than once, a squad finds itself snared in rusty wire, calling all to a halt until they can be freed. Stragglers and point men simply vanish into the fog, diverting everyone's efforts into looking for them, silently as everyone was scared to make the slightest sound, much less shout. The night grows colder. You can't see the other platoons, but you know they must be there... somewhere in the mist. Faint impressions of movement haunt the corners of your vision. Every boulder becomes a machine gun nest, and every tree stump a German laying in wait.

As the squad moves through the forest, a faint outline of a person leaning against a tree is noticed and this one doesn't disappear when looked at head-on. Is it German hiding? The figure didn't seem to be a soldier from their side - the figure was off to the "path" and the Americans were moving ahead, that is if your squad was still moving in the right direction. Sarge motions and the squad instinctively gets into position, and slowly move in. The person's face is still obscured by the mist when Sarge spoke up in his authoritative command voice: "Identify yourself, now!"

Ritterton,You may now post in character. Artemis has gotten separated from 4th Platoon and decided to rest and keep still while hoping to be found, rather than wander off and find himself among the Germans.

"Don't shoot, for God's sake, don't shoot," the figure yells. "American, lost in this lousy forest trying to find my Observation squadron. They left me when we were trying to scout out where we could launch the darn balloons." His voice occasionally hit highs and lows as the fear of being gunned down in the forest became more of a reality than before when he was wandering lost following deer trails and such.
He raised his hands where the other soldiers could see him in the shadows and darks of the forest. "Please don't shoot."

Nick lowers his rifle. "All right, just keep your voice down," he says. "If the Germans hear you, they'll shoot all of us."

"oh," his voice was still in a near shout and seeing the other man's look of disbelief, he lowered his voice. "Oh, sorry, but I haven't seen any Jerries all darned morning. My name is Artemis Richter, Private Richter, 168th Aerosquadron." He continued to advance with his hands up, but voice lowered. "Any chance you see any of my squad back the way you came?"

"Private Nick Parker, 308th Infantry Regiment," says Nick. "You're the first one we've seen since we entered these blasted woods. How did you end up here?"

"Richter? That's a bit of an unfortunate name to get lost with this close to the Boshe.", Larch remarks.
"Then again, how could we forget that wonderful home run Bobbie Richter pulled in the 1914 Federal League finals for the Brooklyn Tip-Tops? Are you by any chance related?", Larch deliberately asked the question falsely, every American knew the Tip-Tops only made 4th that year.

"I, uh, I went to look down this trail, and after a few minutes walking decided to take care of business," Richter responded in a bit of a hushed tone. "Well, I come back to where I thought the others were, and there was no one there. So, I started to walk back the way I came, and I have been walking about ever since. Pretty much been walking all day."

Richter lowered his arms and rubbed his hands together blowing on them to get the blood flowing. He continued to rub his hands together and then turned towards Larch.

"Not related, and I don't think Brooklyn did that well," Richter said exagerating the words in response to Larch's hanging question. "No, my parents came to the States about twenty five years ago and settled in Germantown, north of Philadelphia. I got into the 168th because I knew some things about aeronautics and could speak German. Uncle Sam seemed to think that it made sense."

He shrugged his shoulders and then crossed his arms and rubbed his shoulders. "So where is here and how did you guys get where ever this is?"

"Here is behind enemy lines," says Nick, "and we got here because we'd been advancing and now they're outflanking us. We're looking for some lost men, but not from your unit. How does an aeronautics guy get out here anyway? It's not like there are any aerodromes this close to the front."

"I heard 'bout you Aerosquadron boys. Just transferred down this way and attached to 4th Platoon? Shit, they got you doing forward recon during our search? Ol' Witless is just asking for more lost soldiers or friendly fire - though I guess it's better than our shells raining down on us." Sarge lowers his guard as he looks the scrawny boy up and down, "Don't look like much of a rifleman, but stick with us til we rendezvous with 4th platoon then you can get back to you job. You go back to the lines now and they might try to run you up on dereliction of duty."

"We had an automobile and we were sent out to a point to look at a place to launch balloons to get a sense of what the lines looked like. We are actually stationed at Gengault Aerodrome near Toul, the Sergeant was the one driving, so I was just looking about most of the time." Richter shrugged his shoulders and left the thought trail off. "Sargent, I can do the basics with the rifle as they trained me, but I am more of the fix-it guy. All of us in the squadron spent weeks in England learning how to fix aeroplane's engines, other diesel engines, lots of those things. I'll take you up on that offer to join you, at least that should keep me out of a court martial if I am with a Sergeant."

Richter adjusted his pack, made sure his rile was still in the place where it would not continually be hitting behind his knee and started to work his way into the small group's line. His pack was heavy, and he had taken it with him when they left the automobile as they were to be scouting positions for most of the day. Being in the field, behind the enemy lines, and lost all in one day - this was not starting the way Artemis had thought it would.

CrackheadC. wrote:

OOC,While I give some time for Supercape to react why don't you all let me know if you character has ever killed someone intentionally, in or out of the war.

OOC:   No, not even close.

Birdy gave the new guy a deep look.

"Well you sure sound American to me, Pal" he said, giving a nervous twitch.

Ill damn well make sure you march in front of me though...

"I'm Birdy. Well, everybody calls me Birdy, even me. Welcome aboard. Enjoy the boots, mud, sweat, and tears" he said congenially. "And blood" he added, not so congenially.

"Sooner we are all out of this place, the better, in my opinion. Feels like some German Fairy Tale. And let me tell you, German Fairy Tales are not about Princess Sparkle and the handsome Prince Flash" he explained, leaning against a tree. It was partly to catch a breather, partly to feel something solid behind his back.

"We ain't got a snowball's chance in hell in picking up stragglers here. Damn fluke picking up you , Richter. You must have a whole pantheon of Gods looking after your backside..." he said, miserably.

"Pleasure is mine, Birdy." Richter replied. "My parents always told me the real Grimm stories...a distant cousin lived across the street from one of their ancestors. Not many ended with happily ever afters that is for sure. Hey if it would help, I have a few maps of the area, or I think of this area, not sure where my group went to, but I think the maps cover this area."

Richter watched to see if anyone was all that interested. The group seemed determined to be on their way and he realized that he needed to thank his lucky stars that he found someone from his side.

"Sure is a lot different than than the University and Philadelphia, I can tell you that."

"Thanks, maps would be swell," says Nick, grinning. "Sure beats wandering around lost."

Larch laughs.
"I can"t remember wading knee-deep in muck at University, you're right. The food was a lot worse though. Now, fall in, private, and show us around this lovely neighborhood."

The squad plus their new addition moves out, following Sgt. Maddox' lead. He complains briefly about the lost time, but stays otherwise silent as he navigates the squad through the increasingly colder woods. While zig-zagging through the trees for what feels like an eternity you think back on the hikes during basic training - they were nothing as exhausting as this even if they were longer.

Maddox halts the squad again, gesturing to something on the ground. The group of tired soldiers crowds in, anxious to see. There, in a patch of mud, are a large group of footprints, heading off to the right. They pass through a tangle of wire, which Maddox points out has been cut. "This must be them." He whispers.

"Wait," says Cpl. Grimm, "I think they're ours."

An argument breaks out between the two officers over the tracks.


[Decided not to keep you guys waiting, I'll do some conversions on the fly and post the NPCs' full sheets only if a new player shows up to take one, or if you guys really wanna see the inner mechanics of the men with you.]

"You mean we've been walking in circles?" says Nick with a groan. "Let's take another look at those maps."

[Why don't you all roll either Navigate or Track, your choice. If you have any training in navigate and consult the maps roll a bonus die. (An extra 1d10 and pick the lowest for the 10s)

Richter pulls out the maps he had been given when the small squad had left in the automobile. He brushed the dirt off of them, and unfolded the one that he thought would be where they should be. The northeastern corner was torn off and missing with the tear being relatively fresh. Richter quickly folded that back under.

Navigate 10%,[dice]0[/dice]

[failed navigation]



"Here Nick," Richter took a knee and spread the balanced the map on his leg. "Gengault Aerodrome was near Toul, which is here. We started driving south, south-west...but I am not sure where here actually is in this area." Richter's fingers are miles off from where he thought they were driving too.

"Hmmm...Maybe...." pondered Birdy, his long finger tracing semi-purposeful lines round the map. "Here...no...maybe...."

He stabbed the map furiously. "Satan's Arsehole! we don't know where the hell we are!" he concluded. "And its cold, I'm tired, I'm hungry".

"Its in the lap of the Gods now, folks. Virgil, where are you?" he concluded, stomping off without purpose.

"Well, I have this other map, it's part of a map, maybe Birdie..." Richter tried pulling it out of his pocket, but the other soldier was already off shaking his head. "If anyone wants to take a look at it it, it's here."

"The map would be more helpful if we knew where we are on it right now," says Nick. Not much good at reading it, he instead examines the tracks. "Maybe they're ours, maybe they're not. I have no way to tell. Army boots are pretty much the same."

Freddy looks at the maps briefly, and for a moment he thought he had it, but quickly dismisses the thought.

Navigate,[dice]0[/dice]

Maybe we should mark the trees, Sergeant. And no, Birdy, not like that, you can keep your pants on.

With part of the squad arguing in hushed whispers the tracks were theirs, Maddox thinking they were German, and part of the squad wishing they paid more attention during field navigation - Maddox was getting angry.

"All right, God dammit!" he says, "Ryan, signal third platoon!" Pvt. Ryan crawls over to where the squad thinks 3rd platoon went and shots in a stage whisper: "Third platoon! Hey!"
Silence reigns...
There are a couple murmurs from the squad: "Are we lost too?" "Are we going around in circles?" "Damn, I can't see shit."
"We are NOT lost." Sgt. Maddox affirms, reaching for his compass. He stares intently at it, holding it scarcely an inch from his eyes. "Damn it all," he grumbles, settind down his rifle and fishing out a match. He strikes it against the brim of his helmet and rasies it to the compass face...




Everyone proceed to the new thread here: The Face of Battle