It is May 19th, 1944.
Yesterday, the Battle of Monte Cassino finally ended, after the fourth assault finally suceeded in dislodging the German 10th Army.

More than 50 thousand Allied soldiers were killed or wounded during the battle. You leave all that death and horror behind today, tracing the path the Polish Brigade took yesterday when they finally broke through.

As you reach the summit, you arrive at another makeshift field hospital - 30 Germans, too badly wounded to be moved and one surgeon who volunteered to stay behind, all of them guarded by a company of angry looking Poles.
The tension is palpable. A loud word, some uttered offense might be enough to cause another massacre.

You turn around, looking at the rubble of what is left of the ancient abbey.


Your superior officers wouldn't listen to you. But you know what you saw. The shimmer of light, like an aurora borealis, coming down the mountain, with shells bouncing off of it, detonating withing the ranks of the 5th division. Mortars, they said.

Somewhere in these walls, someone did... something. You scoff at yourself at the sound of of that.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:07, Sun 21 June 2020.

Arthur put it down to reading too much but just couldn't shake the feeling something wasn't quite right but he couldn't put his finger on it.

He spent most of the day tending the wounded on both sides the German surgeon seemed happy to help and they treated a good number before he had to finally take a break.

Now while he sat and his mind not preoccupied with saving people Arthur thought back to what he had seen.

Taking his equipment he headed up the hill keeping within the sentry cordon but heading for the old ruin never the less

Just as you're about to enter the ruins, a couple of Royal Engineers, covered in dust, come out, stopping just across from you.

They look almost indistinguishable with their dirt-covered faces, but one is sporting a bushy mustache with other cleanshaven.

"Now, where do you think you're going, lad?"

Arthur turned his medical bag slightly so they could see the red cross
"corporal Randel, I'm out looking for wounded who might have been over looked in the heat of the battle. It's a dirty job but someone has to do it and even the dead deserve being found" he replied

"There's nobody left in there, lad, we cleaned them out nicely! Off you go, then!"
Mustache makes a dismissive gesture with his hand.

The other guy rolls his eyes slightly and adds: "What Sergeant Halloway means to say is that the abbey is dangerous. We just sweeped the place for hidden mines and other stuff and didn't find anything. Certainly, if there was any wounded in there, we'd come across them."

"OK no problem" Arthur replied and headed back down the slope. Once he was out of sight he waited for a few minutes then made his way west circling the ruin and headed back up on the opposite side from his initial approach

(Sneaky little fellow :-))

Halloway and the other, seemingly more reasonable engineer are gone as Arthur entered the ruins of the abbey. The first thing he noticed was how the neat the floor was. It was covered in dust and some sand, yes, but most of the rubble that must have fallen down in the bombardment was swept up into piles against the wall or even as defensive walls by the Germans, almost like medieval ramparts.

The sun was flooding half of the inner "yard" of the abbey. Soon, it would stand directly above, turning the interior into a baking oven.

Arthur took a quick tour around, but quickly, it became apparent that he wouldn't find anything here. As he finished the circle, he arrived at a smashed doorway to a stairwell, leading below. Gazing into the darkness beneath, something in his stomach twisted.

Arthur was used to trusting his gut when danger was about be he could shake the images of what he'd seen earlier so he took out his gun and taking a deep breath stepped into the darkness

Arthur descended down the stairs, with some light streaming through holes in the walls and ceiling, but soon it was too dark to see. He fumbled about in his bag and found a torch, switching it on.
For a second, he throught he heard explosions in the distance, and faint echoes of screams down the corridor.

(Spirit roll, please, then Notice)

15:21, Today: Arthur Randel rolled 3,2 using D6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,2.  Notice roll .

15:21, Today: Arthur Randel rolled 5,4 using D8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,4.  Spirit roll.

Also have danger sense edge if it helps

A breeze of cold air washed over Arthur's face and he let out a nervous chuckle. Just his imagination. That's what that must have been. His ability to empathize with his patients meant he could all-too-well imagine what they went through. Regardless if it was an accident at home, falling off a ladder and breaking a leg... or being stuck here underground, for weeks and months, under heavy artillery bombardement.

He kept going, searching for... something, but getting pulled ever closer towards something in the darkness.

With his revolver in one hand and torch in the other Arthur moved further into the dark all his nerves and senses on edge

It kept getting colder. Much colder than it should have been, even here, under the mountain. The brick walls lay behind him now and Arthur slowly went dow a flight of narrow stairs, slippery from old age.
Then one of the steps gave way and he lurched forward!

((Roll Athletics))

16:28, Today: Arthur Randel rolled 2,5 using D6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,5.  Athletics.

Both the torch and the gun clattered to the ground as Arthuer rolled down the stairs. At the foot, he somehow managed to get his bag down in front of him and instead of hitting hid head against the edge of a doorframe, the bag hit it and his head hit the bag.

He spent a minute on the floor, catching his breath and cursing himself. Nothing broken, no serious injuries. That's... something.

((Notice roll to see if you find your stuff))

16:43, Today: Arthur Randel rolled 3,5 using D6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,5.  Notice roll .

In what seemed to be an hour (but more likely just a few minutes), Arthur found his torch. The light had gone out, but when he flicked the switch, the light came back on, sputteringly, but still.
With that, it was easy enough to find his gun.

At the other end of the stairs stood an old medieval door-frame, with a heavy door of clearly just a few years old at most fitted into it.

He tried the door and a jolt of cold energy ran up his arm into his shoulder, and he let out a little cry. But he kept holding on and pushed the handle down and the door swung open.

From inside, the metallic smell of blood hits his nostrils.

There's is light coming from somewhere. Is it sunlight coming from somewhere? But how would it make it's way down here?

A beam of light is illuminating an old, faded mural on one of the walls. It's hard to make out but could be a depiction of the crucifixion  of Jesus. An old, weathered stone table in front of it could be an old altar, making this a small chapel.

Arthur pushed the door open enough to step through and with his gun up he swung his gun to cover the whole of the room before he stepped fully in

Inside, there wasn't much more to the chapel. Maybe large enough for 20 people if they didn't mind to get close.

Arthur remembered the iron tang of blood in the air as he'd entered and started to examin the alter and the room for traces of it

((Notice roll!))