((Ok, You're about 4 yards above him, so 2".
Roll Atheltics to jump down without taking damage, then Fighting to take him down. You do get the Drop on the Fighting roll if you manage the Athletics roll. If you don't, then you take 1d6+1 damage, and don't get the Drop.))
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:04, Tue 05 Oct 2021.

09:55, Today: Anna Friedman rolled 7,9 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 7,(6+3)9.  Athletics.

09:59, Today: Anna Friedman rolled 15,9 using 1d8+4,1d6+4, rerolling max with rolls of (8+3)11,5.  Fighting with The Drop.

10:03, Today: Anna Friedman rolled 8 using 2d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,3.  Damage.

*8+4=12 damage (forgot The Drop)

---

10:43, Today: Anna Friedman rolled 10 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+4)10.  Bonus Damage.

**12+10=22 damage

Edit: I noticed that I can see the SS-Infantry's parry and therefore know definitively whether there was a raise on the attack roll.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:50, Wed 06 Oct 2021.

Anna drops down and falls into a crouch. The SS man, alerted by the noise, turns around, his pants still open. His eyes go wide once he sees Anna, but before he can either pull up his zipper, yell an alarm or ready his weapon, she has already run her bayonet through his belly into his lungs. All the dying man manages is a wheezing sigh as he staggers back against the wall and drops down to the floor.

Anna checks the fallen soldier's insignia as she pries the blade from his body. Siegrunen. Beautiful. Killing Germans is always gratifying, but the sight of an SS corpse elicits an extra tingle that the Wehrmacht lack. To ensure he doesn't escape his fate she spears his throat before returning her attention to the artillery piece. She surveys the courtyard to see if her approach is still clear, and if so attempts to finally reach it.

The court seems to be clear. As she looks around, Anna spots Adam placing the satchel with dynamite at the foot of the cannon.

One minute. He didn't wait for a signal, but he got it in place undetected which is all that really matters. It is time to get the Nazis riled up then get the hell to cover.

She promptly shoulders her rifle and fires it in the general direction of the densest number of Germans. Assuming he follows her instructions that should cue Mordechai amplifying that "stand up and find out what's going on."

Next she removes her stick of dynamite, counts to fifteen, and hurls it toward the crates near that gun. Whether it gets particularly close or even detonates on impact aren't as important as getting this thing as far away from herself as possible before the main bomb goes off. She intends to dive in the opposite direction just in case, then scramble to where she ultimately plans to hide.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:47, Thu 07 Oct 2021.

((Alright, give me an Athletics roll at -2 to land it at the spot. Then I'll resolve the whole mess a bit later :-))

Anna intends shut her eyes and cover her ears while taking shelter underneath the nearby dead or dying soldier, exposed SS-shlang and all.

12:00, Today: Anna Friedman rolled 0,2 using 1d8-2,1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 2,4.  Athletics.

12:08, Today: Anna Friedman rolled 2,5 using 1d8-2,1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 4,(6+1)7.  Benny: Athletics.

I have been looking forward to whatever is about to happen for so long!

It't still dark and quiet, with no soldier in sight, so Anna opts for firing off a shot at the closest house, the bullet certainly ineffective against the stone walls, but the noise of the gunshot echoes magnificently through the ruin. She throws her stick of dynamite  and dives into cover.
She can't see it, but the *thud* of something heavy getting dropped and then the squids go off in a cacaphony of sound. She throws a glance at Adam and sees him fumbling with a grenade he apparently had carried with him.

Then a lot of things happen at once. The door of both houses open and German soldiers are piling out, yelling and shouting. From the courtyard that's opening to the mountain, fast and heavy footsteps approach.

A massive explosion thunders through the ruins, the ground shaking as the walls crumble and the cannon is lifted into the air, then thuds down again, toppling backwards into the house below it. Burning embers rain down. There's no sign of Adam right now, but again there's yelling and screaming, but now there is more pain and panic than before.

Ann coughs into an arm while rolling the dead Germans off of herself, slick with his rapidly-cooling blood. Her ears are ringing and her eyes sting from rock dust, but she has to make best use of her senses regardless. She pushes herself up into a crouch and tries to make out what she can of her surroundings. No matter how many Nazis survived it's on her to put them down. If either of the brothers are still alive she hopes they will be thinking the same thing. Even being a mere distraction could prove invaluable, though that grenade of Adam's certainly would have been more handy after the explosions rather than before them.

Edit: Since soldiers are, well, soldiers she also gives her late body shield a once-over, looking for anything that might be useful.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:35, Sat 09 Oct 2021.

A the skewered SS-man has a belt with ammo strapped to him and his rifle - a fancy repeating rifle Gewehr 43 - leans against the wall, next to the puddle of piss.

What about the state of the battlefield? I suspect things may have changed quite a bit since the last overview. Another Notice roll as well?

And what would happen if Anna were to sling the bayonetted Kar98k on her back? She will switch to the Gewehr 43, but since it evidently lacked a bayonet lug it could be nice to have the option to toss it aside should she see more value in a knife at the end of her boomstick. (I can't believe that detail took less than a minute's worth of research. Gun nerds who take to the internet can make such things so absurdly trivial.)
This message was last edited by the player at 11:56, Sun 10 Oct 2021.

((Sure, give me a Notice roll))

The outer wall of the tower, that had housed the cannon, has crumbled, covering the stairways with debris. The cannon itself has tumbled down the two platforms and crashed into the upper house, taking out the wall facing the tower, bringing down the roof. Whoever is left inside is either dead, wounded or stuck. There are about half a dozen men stumbling through the rubble and debris.

The lower house has fared better - while burning debris has rained down on the ground and the house, it hasn't caught on fire. About a dozen more men have left that house, half of them yelling and looking for the attacker in the darkness, while the other half are stomping on the burning patches, with two men rushing towards the Nebelwerfer to make sure there's nothing burning there.

Anna rips off her coat. The owner of the SS-shlang has something Anna needs. Not his rifle—if she gets into a firefight with this many soldiers it wouldn't be much of an improvement over her own. But his uniform might help her reach a weapon that could enable her to kill more than just a few Nazis before her own probable death.

She yanks the jacket off the corpse and messily pulls it around herself. It's way too large for her small frame, but then these disguises always are. Perhaps she could find a decent fit on an older Pimpf, but she hasn't had the good fortune to put a bullet in any of the younger Nazis yet. And now it's looking like she never will.

If he has a helmet or hat that might stay on her head she pilfers that as well. Her goal is the machine gun, and she'll take whatever edge she can get to reach the nest in one piece.

10:20, Today: Anna Friedman rolled 1,4 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,4.  Notice.

There's no helmet, but a felt hat. It would be nice against the cold, but it's a bit too large for you.

There's no sign of Adam, but nobody seems to pay you any mind. You notice one of the SS men taking charge, shouting orders and shoving a few men around.
Already you can see the men calming down.

((Stealth roll to get to the MG42))

16:54, Today: Anna Friedman rolled 1,3 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,3.  Stealth.

16:54, Today: Anna Friedman rolled 6,21 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 6,(6+6+6+3)21.  Benny: Stealth.

Jesus, that reroll. Can I just sneak the whole Red Army in?

((Well, how 'bout...))

As you approach the MG, the two men seem to argue over something. One of them notices you and yells: "Steiner, come over, you take the MG42, we'll help with the search. Fucking partisans! We'll fucking skin whoever did this and feed their guts to the wolves!"

"While they're still alive, those fucking maggots!" The other agrees.

Half of her had been hoping the nest would be abandoned to search for infiltrators, but these soldiers seem disciplined enough to remain at their post even with enemies at their backs. Long enough for 'Steiner' to relieve them, anyhow.

Glancing at the soldiers' insignia, Anna nonverbally acknowledges the request in a way that seems appropriate given her own pilfered rank. She tries to hustle to the MG as slowly as possible while giving the two partisan-hunters as poor a look at her as she can manage casually.

The two don't pay you any further mind and run toward the officer shouting orders.

Anna is dumbstruck at how effortless it had been to commandeer the MG42, all without having to risk so much as a grunt. Her voice may have the rasp of an exceptionally heavy smoker, but that has not stripped away its feminine timbre. The thought makes her crave a final cigarette more than almost anything, yet she resists the temptation. Muzzle flash far outshines an ember but she simply can't spare the time. The Germans are calming down more and more with each passing second.

However, that doesn't mean she should open fire immediately. While the pair has left her a perfectly good MG nest, it's facing the wrong way. So she attempts to hastily slap together one of her own by cannibalizing the existing fortifications.

Once she decides that shooting Nazis a better use of her time than shielding herself from them she settles into her makeshift nest. Without artillery Castle Kamieniec is no longer a significant obstacle to the Red Army in her estimation, but that wasn't really her mission now was it? She's here to clear out its Nazi infestation and there are still a lot left standing. The commanding officer is by far the biggest problem, so she starts by putting him in her sights.

21:36, Today: Anna Friedman rolled 1,4 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,4.  McGyver.

Spend turn Aiming at officer

Barring any major developments, this is now pretty much "fight until dead or out of ammunition." Then "switch to Kar98k, rinse and repeat."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:44, Tue 12 Oct 2021.

((All right. Montage time.))

It took some effort, but Anna managed to swing the MG42 around and put it down with another heavy *thump*. That made a couple of SS-men turn in her direction.

One of them yelled "HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DO..", but before he can finish, Anna pulled the trigger, and a whirlwind of bullets mowed down the men in front of her. The noise is deafening and the MG isn't placed as well as it could be, giving Anna a lot of trouble keeping it steadily aimed.
Empty shells fly out the side as she swiveled it from left to right, then lifted it slightly up to fire at the few men on the higher platforms.

Anna was not a trained gunner and was continuously firing and going left to right and left again, swerving up and down, looking for and finding targets, bullets ricochetting off the walls, turning the tight quarters of the ruins into a cauldron of death.

Then she ran out of bullets. The barrel of the MG gave off a wave of heat. Her throat hurt without her knowing why. Then she realized she must have been screaming while firing.

The ruins fell silent.

((I'll give you a chance to add to that and then I'll wrap it up.))
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:25, Wed 13 Oct 2021.

A strange weariness sets in as Anna stares at the orange glow emanating from the barrel of the MG42. There is something inexplicably hypnotic in the stillness blanketing the ruins. After a listless half-minute she jerks her head side-to-side, coming to her senses. There is no time to relax. Feeling as overheated as the machine gun she rips off Steiner's jacket, relishing the freezing air of the Polish winter. She's going to regret this decision in a minute or two, but it shouldn't be hard to find another coat to pillage. Another parallel to the Samson legend.

She grabs her rifle and stands up, using the weapon as a support. Her job is to exterminate each and every Nazi, a job that is not nearly done. Just because it is quiet right now doesn't mean all of the Germans are out-of-action. So the battle may not be over. And when it is she'll need to carefully scour the castle and slash open the throat of each and every last body. No reason to waste a good bullet when a bayonet will do.

There is a sense in the back of her mind that Adam and Mordechai should take priority. What if they need medical attention? Even her paltry knowledge could potentially save their lives. But that's not going to happen. Nothing matters until she is satisfied that the massacre is complete. Then she'll locate the brothers. Even if only to confirm their deaths and give the group something to bury.

After all of that is done with she'll move on to her own personal ritual: destroying and scattering anything that could be used to identify the corpses, down to slicing off SS blood group tattoos. A spiteful endeavor to deny their loved ones the same peace of mind that finding the brothers will give her own. She suspects that the Soviets will leave the bodies where they lie, but it never hurts to be sure.

Finally, she'll smoke Nazi cigarettes and drink Nazi spirits while keeping watch until her brothers-in-arms arrive tomorrow night. Who knows how they'll react? Obviously her success will be a relief, but even if it was the right call it wasn't hers to make. She kind of hopes Mendel will publicly chew her out for taking this risk alone in order to reassert his authority. And she'd do her best to help it stick.

Obviously most of this will be deprecated if Nazi werewolves or something pop out of the shadows. Either way, this was a fun little prelude!

Anna goes about her gruesome task methodically, in many cases opening another wound on a corpse, but there were a few wounded or dazed Nazis whose life she ended.

Then she heard a deep growl. Her hairs stood up on the back of her neck and she turned around. A few feet away from her, hunkered down on a large rock was another nazi, in a captain's uniform. He was crouching atop the rock, his left hand down for balance, his right hand half raised. He cocked his head and then he growled again, a deep, grumbling noise that sounded as if it came from the depths of hell itself

And then he changed.

His uniform tore open over his swelling arms and legs, fingers lengthened, hair sprouted from his face - and this face grow larger and longer, his bared teeth showing elongated canines.

17:22, Today: Warmaster, on behalf of Anna Friedman, rolled 2,-1 using d8-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 4,1.  Spirit v. fear.
17:24, Today: Warmaster, on behalf of Anna Friedman, rolled 7 using 1d20+2, rerolling max with rolls of 5.  Fear Table

Anna is Vulnerable! The Wehrwolf has +2 to attack and damage until her next turn.



Anna froze, her eyes wide. She wanted to scream, but all she could manage was a tiny squeak. Something inside of her yelled Shoot it! at her, something else "RUN!", but the loudest voice in her head whimpered "I don't want to die" over and over again.

The wolfman launched himself from the rock and sprinted toward her. Somehow she managed to bring up her rifle and fire a shot, but either she missed or the creature didn't mind. He - it? - slammed into her, claws tearing through her coat and into her side.

"Ⱥղժ ղօա į'ӀӀ ҽąէ վօմ" the thing growled into her face, and opened his mouth wide. All Anna could see was teeth.


Then the weight was gone from her.
"YOU LEAVE HER ALONE!" Mordechai was there, swinging one of the discarded rifles like a bat, slamming it into the thing's head and upper body, again and again and again.

Something else grabbed her and Anna turned around - and saw Adam. Wounded, clearly, his left arm hanging limp and at a weird angle, his face covered in cuts and bruises, his eyes pleading for her to come with him.

Later, she would recall that it had been that look on Adam's face that snapped her out of it. She scrambled to her feet, just in time to see the creature duck under another swing of Mordechai, then it was upon him. It didn't waste time announcing its intentions, closing its jaws around Mordechai's neck, blood spraying everywhere.
Mordechai started to scream, but then it turned into a sickening gurgling sound and he fell to the ground.

Now it was Anna's time to grab Adam.
"RUN!"
And they did. Anna didn't know where to run to, but she just ran into the darkness, Adam stumbling behind her, whimpering from the pain he must have felt from his broken arm.
Her first instinct was to go back to the camp, but no, too dangerous, the beast might slay them all. There would have to be some other way. They kept running downhill, as fast as they could.

She couldn't hear it, but felt it in her heart. The wolfman hunted them now, it was after them, playing with them. Then she heard the howl. Triumphant, gleeful. And close. So very close.

She fell against a tree out of breath. Adam stopped next to her an instant later. In the light of the full moon, she could see his face pale. He bent over and vomited over a tree stump, then slumped down. He pulled a grenade from his coat and nodded his chin at her.

Anna shook her head, but again he nodded and pointed for her to go on.

Another howl, it sounded as if it came from the trees just behind them.

Adam readied the grenade and gave her a grim look.

Anna pressed her lips together and ran into the darkness, further down. Moments later, she heard a loud scream of pain and defiance, followed by an explosion. But she kept running, not looking back.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:55, Wed 13 Oct 2021.

((You can wrap it up with a lost post about how you made it back to Mendel and the others, otherwise, this Prelude is now closed.))

First Aid

---

Another fall. She has no clue how long it's been, but Anna is consumed by a single thought: run. Once again she pushes herself upward to get on her feet and continue fleeing, but this time her quivering arms fail her.

. . . come on . . . not now . . . not yet . . . move . . . broch . . . is it? . . . what if? . . . where? . . . move . . . come on . . .

The struggle continues for several minutes until she is eventually forced to concede defeat. Collapsed on the forest floor, she drags herself to a tree and claws her way into a sitting position. She pulls out a cigarette and rope lighter. First things first -- she's going to smoke. If the thing smells her then it smells her. Yet her trembling hands can't produce a spark, so after several attempts she drops the makeshift device on the ground and resorts to a match.

. . . should be me . . . I told him . . . leave me . . . I told him . . . I told him . . . I told him . . . I told him . . . I told him . . .

She closes her eyes and achieves a few beats of silent relief with nothing in her mind but the rhythmic flow of smoke through her lungs. Her blissful meditation is interrupted by the sensation of something oozing down the back of her neck. She fights through overwhelming lethargy to touch the liquid and examine the smear on her palm. Blood. Did she fall on her back at some point?

. . . coward. . . paskudnika . . . worthless . . . schande . . . pitiful . . . parshivets . . . wretch . . . kharpe . . . disgrace . . .

While attempting to focus on puzzling out why there is blood on her neck she becomes aware of something jabbing into her spine. She sluggishly reaches behind her to feel for what the object might be and it doesn't take long to realize what happened. At some point she had the wherewithal to sling her rifle with the bayonet still attached, which must have sliced through her scalp during that final fall or when she was twisting her body to lean against the tree.

gottze dank! if it's alive I can . . . maybe . . . if it . . . I don't want to die . . . I don't want to die . . . I don't want to die . . .

If her shot had landed, and she's pretty sure it did, then the thing didn't seem to mind. Maybe bullets just don't do anything? Still, she would ra- Wait. Is there something she's forgetting?

blood . . . wound . . . blood . . . gash . . . kurve

She hadn't needed to look in order to retrieve her cigarettes, but now she steels herself to do exactly that. Blood. Blood everywhere. Blood soaked through her coat. Blood soaked through her pants. A few dry heaves later and she snaps to her senses. There's no room for emotion right now, least of all terror. As despicable as it was, it had helped her survive, but it's no longer useful. And she can wallow in shame, self-pity, and survivor's guilt later. And, while she has witnessed plenty of horrors, she can't even begin to process that new one at the moment.

Wincing, she pulls back her coat. The coat and pants may have looked bad, but those are nothing compared to the shirt. How is she even alive? Her current cigarette is extinguished in preparation for the next step: getting a look at the wound itself. It's only half-finished but, much to her chagrin, tobacco is no longer a priority.

A scream is barely stifled while she lifts her shirt. Four massive tears through the left side of her abdomen. And they're still bleeding. Sprinting and tumbling through the woods couldn't have helped. A few more dry heaves. These hurt way more than the first few. The pain is exponentially worse now that she's seen the extent of the damage.

She'll grow weaker with every drop of blood lost so she acts quickly. This is not her area of expertise, but she thinks that getting pressure on the wound under is the best course of action if she wants to prevent exsanguination. Maybe she'll die of an infection, but not immediately. Every shred of clothing is invaluable in this cold so the fabric of her pack is used for raw materials. She is going to need to travel as light as possible anyway, so she is only planning on keeping her weapon, ammunition, and canteen. Since there was a decent chance she was going to die she didn't bring any food, instead leaving it for the noncombatants, a decision she is seriously regretting.

Fortunately she can spare some water to rinse the gashes, for all the good that will do. Upon completing the improvised dressing she shoves some cloth into her mouth. Gagging herself is probably the only way to muffle the inevitable wailing. Which was a good idea. She nearly fainted from the pain, but luck was on her side with that particular disaster.

She dresses the incision on her head then bundles back up and rests for a while, slowly chain smoking and taking small sips of water. After all, a fair amount of the liquid in her body is now on the ground and inside her clothing. At last, she hears cracks of artillery fire in the distance. She has no clue where she is or how to get back to the road she arrived on, but she at least remembers the relative direction of those guns. As appealing as it sounds to stay planted right here, the time has come to get moving. It's not just her own survival at stake. It might be her people's as well.

Odds are Adam killed that thing, but even if he didn't she can't imagine it is going to remain in the vicinity of Kamieniec. It was giving orders to Germans in an SS officer's uniform and could still talk after it metamorphosed, so it's probably got better things to do than loiter around some especially ruined ruins. Maybe it'd hunt her down or eat some of the bodies or something, but that's not a chance she is willing to take. She doesn't know what to say or how honest she should be, but she can't allow any of them to get anywhere near that castle under any circumstance.

Grunting, she uses the tree to stand back up. Using her rifle for support, she locates a branch that will make a better walking stick and starts limping away.