Krakow the free city.
Or so it's been said....
Polish soldiers on almost every street corner, at least in the inner city areas, technically act as both the police and garrison for the eighty thousand or so people living within the minefields, barbed wire, tank traps and armed patrols. A huge population compared with the rest of the battered country, but just a fraction of the half a million who called it him just four short years before.

Every man, woman and child knows of entire families that have perished during the military assaults, nuclear exchanges, famines, epidemics, marauders, and numerous other natural and man-made disasters. Many of those families were their own...

With the drastic reduction of population, buildings have become uninhabited - entire suburbs abandoned to the ravages of weather, looting and squatters. Even in the inner city buildings are run down and some in danger of collapse. With the destruction of the country, or more accurately the entire world, there just isn't the resources of people and materials available to keep anything maintained without great expense.

The two of you, thrown together in the aftermath of the 5th infantry divisions destruction, could consider yourselves amongst the lucky. In the past two weeks you've gained access to Krakow (unlike thousands of refugees on the other side of those mines, wire and machineguns) and been fortunately enough to find yourselves shelter in a deserted shop. It cost you your truck though - bribes to the ORMO to begin with followed by the necessary purchase of food and equipment to set yourselves up in business.

Skills such as yours are in extremely short supply. Many doctors sucumbed to the plagues that tore through Europe, skill tradesmen drafted, conscripted or just plain kidnapped to serve in either the army or the various petty warlords that have sprung up in the past year. And so it's been relatively easy to establish your joint medical and mechanical shop.

Elena skims through her supplies and takes a seat on a nearby stool.
Leaning on the wall she lets the events that led her to this mess pass before her eyes.
They were lucky, Luke and her. Not only did they survive the terribly failed attack carried out by their units but also made it to one of the last functioning cities within Poland or maybe within the whole world. Life wasn't as it used to be before the war but at least inside Krakow it returned to some form of normality and her skills were valued pretty high in the aftermath of all this tragedy enabling her to lead a simple but endurable life.
She tried to repress her feelings about not knowing what had happened to her family for quite a while now but since she wasn't in immediate danger anymore they started to emerge again.
A single teardrop runs down her cheek when she fails to keep her countenance for a second, quickly whiped off when she hears someone entering the shop.

(OOC: I hope someone's entering now :p)

The small bell Luke had rigged up on the door chimes softly. A burst of cold air shoots into your small front room is the door is pushed wide. Autumn is well on it's way it seems.
At first it's hard to tell who it is that's in need of your services, so heavily bundled in salvaged coats are they. The door swings shut under the power of perhaps one of the very last prewar automatic closers anywhere in Poland and the person divests themselves of their outer layer. A moment later and the very heavily pregnant form of a teenage girl staggers forward another step, muttering incomprehensibly...

Sticking his head around the door to the front room, Luke had casually clutched the long-bodied Remington against the wall, out of view of the new arrivals. A wary expression screwed-up his dark featured face beneath a wooly watchman's cap.

"What's up, Elena?" he asks, in a tone that a bouncer might have used if inquiring as to whether or not there was a problem.

waving Luke's question aside Elena mutters "I'm OK" and approaches the young woman smiling, pushing her gently towards the gurney.
"Please lay down" she tells her in russian pointing towards it. "Does it hurt?" she asks while auscultating the girls womb trying to reassure the girl with a warm smile.

The girl looks at Elena blankly as her tongue stumbles through what she hopes is vaguely understandable Russian. The physical approach is easy enough to understand and the girl allows herself to be guided to the makeshift gurney.
The dark smudges underneath her eyes reveal as much as her bony body - she is exhausted and probably starving. The rags she wears indicate she's most likely been living on the streets, begging and stealing what little food she could find to support both herself and her unborn child.

Elena's expert hands quickly discover that malnutrition isn't the girls only concern - she's in the early stages of labour...

OOC: Language is likely to be a bit of a problem - she doesn't appear to speak either English, Russian (although it's hard to tell with Elena's botch roll) or any other language yet tried.

Luke withdraws into the back, making sure to keep the shotgun out of line-of-sight. He carefully stands it against the wall around the corner before returning to the room to help Elena with her new patient.

Elena gently pets the girls face before turning around and gathering the needed supplies for the incoming birth.
Upon return she points at herself and says "Elena", waiting a little while for the girl to respond before preparing her.

"Luke could you get us some hot water please?" she says without turning around. "Oh and don't forget to chlorinate it"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:48, Sat 20 Oct 2007.

Coming in from the garage, Steven stops at the door next to Luke to insure everything is ok. "Everything cool Luke?" Steven states, using his ever recurring Cool Hand Luke joke.

"Nothing going to go boom?" he mutters quietly, watching the pregnant woman climbing on the gurney. Even after all the world had been through, there was still talk of people strapping bombs to themselves to further some cause. Wiping the grease from his hands onto a rag, he watchs as Elena tries to comfort the woman.

"Need any help?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:51, Tue 23 Oct 2007.

Luke, dark-featured and perpetually gloomy, nods at Fenris as he turns to follow Elena's instructions. "S'okay if Elena says it is...I gotta get water."

He marches into the back to follow his directions, preparing clean, treated water for the patient.

Steven watches Luke fade into the back, getting the water. Walking over to Elena, he nudges her gently.

"Need me to scrub up? I'm pretty sure I know the basics here, dialation and all."

Steven smiles at the young girl, still addressing Elena.

"Eeeyore is getting the water. I can prep the room if nothing else."

Elena replies "Ok do that but i don't think it's a good idea to make such a fuss about this, might make her feel uncomfortable" while turning around "thanks for asking though".  She smiles shortly at Steven and returns to tend to her patient.

Steve smiles back, scanning the patient up and down. Turning away, he goes to the wash basin and starts rinsing his arms off, before going to prepare the delivery room.

John slowly walked down the street. Turning around the corner of an old bakery he continued down the street. Just sitting in their shop made him restless, he wanted to be on the move again, or at least do something. With a sigh he stopped by the shop and opened the door. Seeing Elena with a pregnant woman made him smile. At least there is still something beautiful in this fucked up world.

"Need any help?"

"Yes, could you get a screen so she has a little bit of privacy please? Oh and do you happen to speak polish or maybe some other languages? I already tried russian and english, but she doesn't seem to understand me."

Elena fetches a prepared catheter and starts an IV with D5W trying to signal to the girl before she penetrates her skin that this could hurt a little bit.

Luke stumps back in into the front room with a large pot of pungently clean water. His obvious concentration on not spilling or slopping any is almost painfully earnest.

Awkwardly, he speaks up. "I, uh, speak a little bit of German. It's not good, but I may get a point across, I guess."
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:11, Wed 14 Nov 2007.

"Oh i really didn't know that" Elena smiles and waves Luke to come closer. "Can you ask her what her name is ... erm and some info about her condition would be great."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:22, Sun 28 Oct 2007.

Leaving the makeshift labor room, Steven re-enters the waiting area.  Walking over to Luke he takes the water from him, so he can attempt to speak with the girl. "I know some German, if it helps." Nodding to Luke, he carries the pot to the wash basin and pours some in for Elena. "I'll prep some sutures and a scalpel. How far along do you think she is?"

"Right. No, just good old english." John smiles when he remembers how it all used to be before he starts to lock for something to use as a screen.




OOC: Sorry guys, my internet broke, but now I'm here and ready for whatever nuked is going to put us aginst.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:07, Tue 06 Nov 2007.

What feels like weeks for Elena to reply makes Steve think perhaps she is too preoccupied to have heard him. He decides to check over the delivery room one final time and then see if Luke needs any help out in the garage.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:44, Mon 05 Nov 2007.

OOC: oops, was hoping on some input from nuked regarding the patients reply and me knowing how far she is. sry :(


While palpating the girl's abdomen Elena turns around "Sorry i was a bit absent minded. Erm it's only a matter of hours now. Maybe one or two i think" She then continues to check if the baby is in the right position or if intricacies are to be expected.

Steve nods, relief welling up. "An epidural is out, I suppose. I can give her some asprin for the pain, unless you have something else in mind. She's too far along for anything else."

"You're right about the epidural but i think Aspirin isn't a very good idea either. We don't want her to bleed to death do we? Anyways, don't give her anything at the moment, but prepare a syringe with 50 microgramms fentanyl and another one with 1 milligramm naloxon please. Or better don't prepare the naloxon yet, so we don't waste our supplies but keep it in reach"

"I need the keys to to the med locker." Steven states. Only Elena holds them, so there's a tight inventory control procedure. Opening the sharps drawer, he pulls two hypodermics out and sets them on a tray.  Steven warily eyes the girl again.

'Everything feels like slow motion" Steve says aloud......

Elena hands Steven the key "Don't worry sometimes this can take a bit"

Luke scratches at his beard, visibly thinking furiously as he tries to recall the right words and phrases. He makes a few false starts, looking at the others from beneath busy brows to see if they are paying him any attention.

Waiting on Nuked for some info. Sorry, gang.

The girl, now almost oblivious to everyone around her is obviously in the very late stages of labour. With the drip in place Elena's probbing fingers discover that the baby will come probably sometime in the next half hour, if not much quicker.
Outside the sounds of life in the ravaged city go on. Nobody appears to take any notice of the whimpers the girl periodically releases from her cracked lips.

There is little left to do besides wait now....

Sure enough, not much later a small boy is born. a little underweight but nevertheless generally healthy although the same cannot be said for the mother. Exhausted before the birth, now she hangs onto life by a thread, barely enough energy to draw the next breath let alone regain consciousness enough to hold her son in her stick thin arms.

The mood outside seems to shift about then. A ripple of converstaion flows through the dirty street, glances and fingers point towards the ORMO checkpoint not more than a few hundred metres away. Something has happened, something out of the ordinary...

"Well, that was an expierence." Steve says, walking outside to get some air. "Life goes on. Its still blows my mind."

Standing in front of the shop, Steve notices the locals have moving about, pointing and acting odd. Opening the door, Steve sticks his head inside and calls to anyone in earshot, "Hey, guys get out here, something is going down."

Inspite of being a bit distracted Elena stays with her patient and tries to stabilize her. The least they could need at the moment was an orphan they had to take care of. "What is going on out there?" she asks Steven.

Luke steps out to the street with Steven, looking up and down the street. When it becomes apparent that it is the checkpoint that is drawing attention, he turns to look toward it, craning his neck to see.

"Dunno, Elena."

"Whatever it is," Steven says coming back inside, and locking the door, "It doesn't sound good.  I think its time we closed chop for the day. Maybe even get the ambulance ready for a quick run across town. Perhaps we can take our patient and child home?"

Let´s prep the ambulance but don´t start it yet, we don´t want any unnecessary attention. I´ll watch the front Scratching his left cheek john checks His FN-FAL and then turn his gaze towards the checkpoint.


OOC: How fast are we ready to leave? What needs to be done? Steven, Luke  I´ll guess its your job with the ambulance?

"Hmm maybe you're right. But i don't want any big surprises, so one of you please keep an eye on what's going on there while the rest is packing" Saying this she returns to tend to her patient, her supplies are mostly packed and the others know where that stuff goes in the ambulance.

Luke nods at John, and heads back into the 'shop'.

His first stop is to check the Bison, in case the rugged machine has suffered an apparent mischief in the bare few hours since he was last near it. A test-start of the engine to check the dials and engine sounds, and Luke moves off to prepare their supplies and kit for movement.

After years on the move, they have it down pretty well pat. Still, complaceny could lead to some important piece being left behind, so he checks to make sure that everything is stored in it's proper place, in case they do have to pack and move in a hurry.

"Somebody hand me the shotgun, and I'll watch the door. Do we have a sign in polish that says Quarentined?"

Steven looks from behind the blind, down the street, waiting for the shotgun.

from the doorway it doesn't appear the disturance is anything to be immediately worried about. Men and women only recently passed through the nearby checkpoint hurry past with push carts loaded down with produce from garden plots.
Straining to understand the snatches of conversation several words appear to be repeated, the third almost in wonderment.
"Amerykanie," "Zamożny" and "Diesel"

Steven opens the door slightly. "Guys, I am a bit weak in the language department, but from what I gather, its something about Americans and diesel. Not really sure what else they are talkong about, but it doesn't seem to be a threat."

Steven closes the door, hoping someone still brings him the shotgun. He felt kind of naked outside unarmed.

Figuring everyone is too busy inside to get him the weapon, Steven heads back inside. Walking into the garage, he opens the closet where he has his personal gear stored, pulling a towel off his SAW. Checking the ammunition, he pulls back the bolt, loading the weapon, and flicks off the safety.

"Guys, anyone else around?"

"Yes sure but ... i can't leave my patient at the moment especially while there seems nothing serious to be going on out there" Elena says while taking a quick peak at her grease gun just to assure herself it's there in case she needs it.


OOC: The gun is stored in the half opened top drawer of her desk which is about 3m away from her.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:42, Tue 04 Dec 2007.

"I'll be out front, see if I can gather any more intel." Steven smiles at Elena. "Good job by the way.Is Luke gettting the ambulance ready?"

Outside, the everpresent crowd didn't appear to take any notice of Steven or his weapon. Not supprising really in a city garrisoned by thousands of soldiers and crawling with foriegn nationals from what seems almost every part of the world.

Krakow had the same feel as Cassablanca more than half a century before, or so some of the old timers had said. A city free from war and yet not. Agents from all sides carried on their own underground conflict in back alleys and hotel rooms. Assassinations were common, if you saw the many "accidental gunshot deaths" for what they really were.

A thriving black market supported the overstretched city governments efforts to provide for nearly eighty thousand poeple. Some might say the black market was the local government. Corruption was rife, at least while the ORMO's backs were turned.

But it was still a far better place than anywhere else in Europe of late. Spared the nukes, it had only suffered from looting and the occasional fire. Even conventional attack had seemed to pass it by in spite of it playing host to the Polish 8th MRD for most of the war. Perhaps it was because most of the heavy industrial facilites were located outside the city? They had not fared so lucky - Nowy Huta, the industrial powerhouse of southern Poland and just a dozen or so miles to the east had attracted at least one warhead while further north tactical nukes had been used almost with abandon.

Peering westward from his vantage point, Steven spied the oncoming shape of a BTR-80. Probably one of the ORMO's vehicles except for the fact that they don't have any still working....

"We have armor in the street people. Not local from the look of it. Keep frosty till I can find out more, but be ready to move."

Steven adjusted his stance, making his body language less hostile and more non chalant. The last thing he wanted was the BTR shooting up the hospital because he looked too threatening.

The BTR rolls to a halt with a jerk. Atop the rear deck, a man wearing worn Russian fatigues but confidently holding an imaculate German PSG-1 sniper rifle keeps watch over the surrounding area. A womans face can be seen with her head through the commanders hatch, black hair neatly ttied back. Naval dress blues adorn the womans shoulders and upper arms.
The vehicle itself has seen heavy combat and many repairs. Holes from a light autocannon of some type pock it's flank rendering it no longer water tight. These holes extent to the lower turret, recent repairs obviously necessary to restore it's traverse.
Very few stores fill it's external bins. Only a large canvas package and a few jerry cans any indication that the owners of the vehicle aren't completely destitute.

Sitting on top of the BTR, the man cooly surveyed the sergeant before him. As soon as the Steven looked directly at him, he pulled back the sleeve on his left arm to reveal the intricate Marine Corps insignia tattooed there. In a very low voice he said, "Sempre Fi..."

"Do or die." Steven chimes back. "Army here, Armor. Your ride seems a bit beat up. Want me to look it over? We're a hospital here, but my background is in vehicle repair.Anyone injured? Come inside, we have a medical staff, and some food."

Steven was a bit weary, but no KGB would have endured the mark of the corps just to rob a hospital.

The side hatch of the vehicle swings open and a Polish boot steps out....

"Son of a bitch." Steven mutters as the hatch opens, Tapping his heel against the door three times, Steven sends the warning into the others inside. Big trouble, be ready to roll.

"That hinge seems a bit displaced." he mutters walking over to it and blocking the rest of the man attached to the boot from entering the hospital.

Before Steven can get more than a few metres, the remaining parts of the perosn inthe Polish boots steps down. A Polish soldier wearing a clean uniform and with an AK-74 slung over his shoulder dusts himself down with one hand - the other is bandaged and held firmly against his chest with a white linen sling.
A moment later he is followed by a hansome man wearing a rather worn (but clean) three peice suit. Everything about him screams "diplomat", right down to the neatly knotted tie around his neck. The only concession to the war is the small Polish PM-63 SMG holstered underneath his jacket and the bandage wrapped about his head almost like a turban.

"Dziękują bardzo. Dbają o siebie i chłopca.", he speaks back into the BTR before turning his attention fully to the rapidly approaching Steven.

"Thank you, sir." His Scottish accent clear for all to hear.
</blue>"We might take you up on the offer, I don't think we are too damaged here, my head is a lot better than a couple of days ago. But this old lassie"</Blue>, smacking the side of the 'car' "... might need a fixup."

"We'd better get some papers at the Rada," he continues, speaking once more to the occupants of the vehicle, "So we can come back here afterwards."

"Or what do you others think?"
"Its ok with you, Mary?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:01, Fri 04 Jan 2008.

"Sir", the apparent US Marine speaks up, "I'd advise having a constant guard on the BTR, at least until we are better aware of the situation here. You could go under guard with some merchandise to get the first lot of papers and on your return, you could pick up the second lot to go. This jallopy represents all our worldly goods and I'd be reluctant to leave it hanging en prise so to speak."

Sound advice for anyone living in Krakow. The man seemed to have a firm grip on the general situation in the city. Your group found the hard way on the first day in town that anything not nailed down, booby trapped and guarded tended to walk away as soon as nobody was looking.

"Thank you Sergeant," "Mary", the women in navy dress blues spoke up with a strong Irish accent.
"You might remember next time to keep information like that to ourselves though." So, they were apparently as poor as they looked at first glance...

"I'm sure that's a good idea Don," she replied to the suited Scotsman.

"How far is it from here to the Rada?" she inquired of Steven, her attractive dark eyes looking down upon him.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:14, Fri 04 Jan 2008.

"3 Klicks south of here lady. Though I doubt you'll get a warm reception. The Rada isn't too hip on armored vehicles in town without his permission"

Steven looked at the injured men.  "Can't look at you now. They have VIP's inside"
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:40, Sat 05 Jan 2008.

"Mary" looked back down through the hatch she was standing in, apparently listing to somebody inside speak for a few moments.
"Solider, do you know of anywhere we could set ourselves up at for a while." she asked Steven.
"All we need is shelter for a few days, nothing fancy."


Accomodations are basically of two types - Occupied and Abandoned.
An occupied building contains human inhabitants, who may be willing to give shelter in return for payment (which it appears this group does not have). Two or three dollars in barter will usually buy a nights sleeping space ina leaky, unheated flophouse. A deluxe room with a bed (and clean linen), stove, and wash basin might cost $40 per day. Not all occupied buildings will take lodgers of course.
Abandoned buildings can be used simply by moving into them (this is what your group did). There is no shortage of abandoned buildings especially since the city is only at approximately 10% of it's prewar population, however, many are in poor repair, both cosmetically and structually. Also, as usual, all the best locations are claimed.

The Scotsman looks out on the soldier.

"Aye, laddie! Answer the lady!"

Hearing Steven's warning Elena places the newborn onto the mothers abdomen, holding her index finger in front of her lips to tell her to be silent. She then moves towards her smg, cocking the handle while grabbing it and sneaks towards a window kneeling before it and drawing the curtain a bit to see what's going on out there and be ready to give fire support if needed.

Stalling, Steven acts like he just snapped out of a trance. "Sorry, I just wanted to see if two of every animal was hiding in there as well. I don't suppose thats going to happen."

Pointing down the road, Steven continues to stall. "This is really a self serve town. What you see is what you get. The four star joints are pretty much leveled, but you can find a few flats to rent for the night, if you approach the locals unarmed. Some places that are deserted can be used for a few days, so long as you move along when the local constable shows up. Or toss him some stuff he needs."

Easing back, Steven figures he has bought them enough time. "Anything else you need?"

"Are there any areas we should avoid?" said the man with the sniper rifle perched on top of the BTR.
"You know, I bet there are gangs around here, do you know any of the local turfs." He was obviously trying to be as congenial as he could.
"I hope you're a good listener bud, cause I've got a tonne of questions. Now, back in the day, when we visited a far out Alphabetville, we'd hire a guide, would that make sense here? If so, where'd we get one? Also, these papers everyone talks about, I'm assuming we'll have to give graft to obtain them, what's the going rate? I don't mind getting gouged a bit by the locals, you expect that, but we ain't got a lot to spare so everything we can save is good for us, if we save enough, we might even be able to afford a make over for this baby," he slapped the side of the BTR.

"There's no MAACO around here, so if you want repairs its either from a local, or on your own. I can look her over, I'm a mechanic by trade. Gangs, sure they are about, but the locals pay for protection around here, so the violence is low. As for the rest of your questions, why don't two of you come inside, and we can chat in private. Your drawing alot of unwanted attention to my friends hospital here."