Cold Season

Hidden Creek, Spray and Pray

Hidden Creek

  • Gunny Hernandez spends the morning cleaning and oiling his gun. Afterwhich he gathers his gear and enough food and water for the march.
  • Gunny Hernandez gathers his gear and meets the others in the Kent’s kitchen. “I’m about to set off to scout the school for bandits.” He spreads the maps that Egil found in the library across the table. “I’ll be headed south along this route.” he traces the route mostly following the woods just off the main road.
  • Uriel leans over the other side of the table, staring at the map and outlined route. “Alright, I think I got where you’re going if you radio for backup.”

Gunny Hernandez:
“I’ll radio in at 10:00 and 22:00. After two days you’ll meet up with me here.” points to the map at the meeting point.
GM:
Later that afternoon, Uriel and Steve Bloom continue their work repairing the motor for the hydrolic pump.

Uriel:
(hm, macro thingy isn’t there, what do I need to do for the rolls, just individual d20 3 times?)
GM:
« 1d20 = 3 »,« 1d20 = 15 »

Uriel:
« d20+mod = 9 + 0 = 9 »

Uriel:
« d20+mod = 3 + 0 = 3 »

Uriel:
« d20+mod = 1 + 0 = 1 »
GM:
After several false starts the hydrolic pump and its attached generator roar to life.

Steve Bloom:
Well, Ill be damned. I thought we’d never get this thing working again

Uriel:
“These older pumps can be a pain in the ass, but I think it’ll hold well enough for a good while now.”

  • Gunny Hernandez walks till he clears the tree line, then begins to run and shout a cadence. “Fired up! Feeling good! Here we go! Fired up! Feeling good! On the road! Fired up! Feeling good!”

Steve Bloom:
Yah. I suspec that if we can remain oppertunistic on parts I could get this thing running even better. Ill let Jim Ward know how you helped me here. I dont know if it’ll help you at all but maybe he’ll trade a little more fair. I think you’ve earned it.

Uriel:
“We also discussed a good drink, if it got running. Think I may need it before heading out day after next.”

Steve Bloom:
As I promised

  • Steve Bloom walks over to his toolbox and draws out a bottle full of amber liquid. As he draws closer you can see the name Glenlivet XXV on the label

Steve Bloom:
Ive been saving this for something special. Had it since before the war

Steve Bloom:
I figure this is the best news Ive had in years and I think we can seal the deal with a nip of this.

  • Gunny Hernandez runs for several hours. Stopping to take a drink of water every thirty to fourty five minutes.
  • Steve Bloom draws a small knife and cuts the foil wrapper. He pries the cork out and savors the smell of the liquor before offering the bottle to you.

Steve Bloom:
25 years in the barrel. Wont be getting too many more of these I think.

Uriel:
“I don’t remember the last time I’ve had a proper drink, and getting this old bucket going is certainly an occasion to celebrate.” Uriel takes the bottle and inhales deeply the aroma, “It’s a rare treat.”

  • Steve Bloom produces two small glasses and pours you each a dram.

Steve Bloom:
I can give you some water if you like but no rocks unfortunately

Uriel:
“Neat is my preference.” He raises the glass and takes another draw from the nose, savoring it fully.

  • Steve Bloom takes a nip from his glass and closes his eyes.

Steve Bloom:
I just want to hold onto this moment for a while. Back here in the garage. Hard day of real work behind me, great drink in my hand. I could almost forget that ive got russian warlords to the north and south and bandits all around.

  • Uriel nods to Steve, raises his glass appreciatively, and quietly says with irony, “Na Zdorovie.”
  • Steve Bloom raises his eyebrows and takes another sip

Uriel:
“Brings me back to the last time I was home in Brighton Beach.”
you enjoy a fine evening with Steve Bloom remenicing and watching the farmers and refugees working the fields from the parking lot of the gas station.
Several days later, many miles away:

Gunny Hernandez:
(Good ol’ fashioned southern afternoon. Really really ol’)
The mist was still heavy on the ground when Gunnery Sergeant Jack Hernandez started the third day of his March. The chill was still being held at bay by the uncharacteristically long autumn weather but the days were getting noticeably shorter and he knew that soon, traveling alone out here would mean death. He had spent the night in the hollow formed by the low bows of a Fir tree and it had been enough to keep him almost comfortable. He touched the length of braded paracord that hung from the shoulder of his ghillie suit, carefully counting the beads which represented his pace count. He had made good time, nearly 30 miles a day over rough ground. And though he was tired from the pace of his march, by his estimation, his camp should have been made within a couple kilometers of the school that Jim Ward had told his team about. But more than that, he knew he was close because he was a trained observer, and last night he had heard the distant sound of an engine. The thick trees worked in his favor: Even he could only see a short distance so he should have been nearly invisible from the highway. He walked along the tree line attempting to avoid the thick underbrush until he got a little closer to the target area. Eventually, the trees thinned and he started to see the shattered remains of buildings. There had been fighting here. The bridge over willow creek had been demolished, but someone had placed a series of logs over the fractured concrete to allow the brave or fool hearty to move across the shallow river in a vehicle. Eschewing the bridge, Hernandez traveled downstream until he was out of sight of the bridge before crossing the ice cold water at a shallow ford.
As he continued south, he began to see more signs of civilization; clusters of buildings surrounded by high meadows of weeds, mangled street signs, and even the burnt wreck of an old car. Finally he came upon the remains of a civilian airfield choked with underbrush so thick it nearly concealed the fact that several light aircraft sat on the runway, waiting for pilots who would never return. He crept towards the empty hanger and concealed his pack beneath some bushes
He drew his rifle from its protective canvas bag and began to drape some local flora from the thick strands of jute which draped his body and weapon. After an hour of work he was satisfied with the result and began to stalk forward, moving now on his hands and knees or on his stomach if he felt the hair on his neck rise.

  • Gunny Hernandez mutters"¡Odio el frío!" as he attaches brush to his ghillie suit.
    The day was nearly half over when the building finally came into view. The old school was low slung in the fashion of the area. A single story with brown walls and a sloping red roof with an angle steep enough to shrug off the snow deposited over a long Alaskan winter. Now though, he could see that someone had sandbagged an observation post onto the crest of the roof facing the road.
  • Gunny Hernandez immediately stops and goes flush with the ground as he sees the fortified position.

Gunny Hernandez:
« 1d20 = 17 »,« 1d20 = 15 »,« 1d20 = 16 »,« 1d20 = 19 »

  • Gunny Hernandez (is bad at this)
    As Gunny moves through the treeline, the guard on the roof who had been partially concealed by sandbags stands and points a pair of binoculars in the direction of the trees. A second man stands and shoulders a rifle.
  • Gunny Hernandez keeps completely still as he sees the motion behind the sandbags.
  • Gunny Hernandez waits to see if there is any other alarm around or inside the school.

Gunny Hernandez:
« 1d20 = 18 »,« 1d20 = 5 »
GM:
Ignore that ^

Gunny Hernandez:
(ok)
The man with the binoculars points in your direction and the second man fires a burst of automatic rifle fire at the area you are in.
GM:
« 1d20 = 2 »,« 1d20 = 8 »
GM:
« 1d6 = 4 »,« 1d6 = 1 »

Gunny Hernandez:
« 1d20 = 1 »,« 1d20 = 17 »
Only his intense training keeps him from crying out as one of the rounds impacts his left thigh.

Gunny Hernandez:
(I’ma kill all these mother fuckers)

Gunny Hernandez:
(shoot me in the leg, I use that shit for walking)
GM:
(moderate wound to left upper leg
GM:
)
You see the man with the binoculars gesturing over the edge of the roof to somone you cant see

  • Gunny Hernandez begins to skull drag back into the treeline.

Gunny Hernandez:
« 1d20 = 13 »,« 1d20 = 14 »,« 1d20 = 12 »,« 1d20 = 13 »
Your pulse is thundering in your ear as you begin to crawl away from the treeline. To your trained ears you sound like a herd of elephants crashing through the bush. Even with all your experience, you struggle to maintain your cool as you feel the blood from your wound begin to soak the leg of your ghillie suit.
You hear shouting from the buildings behind you.
Several gunshots sound but the fire is so general as to be ineffectual
The yelling begins to draw closer.
GM:
What do you want to do
GM:
?

Gunny Hernandez:
(brb)

Gunny Hernandez:
« 1d20 = 1 »,« 1d20 = 6 »,« 1d20 = 14 »,« 1d20 = 15 »
three men appear at the treeline but they seem hesitant to enter. After a short search you hear one of them call that they found the blood where you were hit. They discuss the blood for a few moments before one of them opines that they must have shot a pig.
After a heated argument, the three men begin to gingerly move through the thick wood, searching for the wounded animal.

  • Gunny Hernandez crawls to the best hiding spot he can see in his imediate vicinity pulls out his pistol and keeps it ready while waiting for the search party to pass.
    One of the men passes within just a couple feet of you.

Bandit 3:
« 1d20 = 10 »,« 1d20 = 7 »

Gunny Hernandez:
(if I had enough skill I’d ezio this guy.)

Bandit 3:
I dont see a fucking thing.

Bandit 1:
They hit something. You saw the blood… keep looking. Im hungry!

Bandit 2:
If its a fucking russian and he gets away we are gonna be in deep shit!

Bandit 3:
It wasnt a russian. Who get’s shot and dosent shoot back? It dosent make any sense. It was a fucking pig i’m telling you.

Bandit 2:
If it was a pig you better find it is all im saying!

Bandit 2:
« 1d20 = 15 »,« 1d20 = 3 »

Bandit 2:
« 1d20 = 5 »,« 1d20 = 16 »

Bandit 2:
The men search for several minutes but somehow they miss you. As they begin to make their way back towards the buildings, You allow yourself your first deep breath in almost a half an hour.

Gunny Hernandez:
(Going to grab a drink)

Gunny Hernandez:
« 1d20 = 8 »,« 1d20 = 5 »,« 1d20 = 20 »
Creeping slowly, you make your way back to your pack and although the pain in your leg is intense, you shoulder your supplies and limp several kilometers back to the rally point. When you arrive you find the HMMWV pulled off the road in a copse of trees andcovered in a camo net

  • Uriel raises his gun briefly at the noise, then lowers it when he realizes that it’s only Gunny. A few moments go by before he notices any limp or strain

Gunny Hernandez:
“¡Fucking putos! They shot me, in my fucking leg!”

Uriel:
“What?”

Uriel:
“Did one of your relatives get married?”

Gunny Hernandez:
“What this shit are you talking about? Where is the doc?”

Egil:
Im here

Gunny Hernandez:
“Oh good. Then you wouldn’t mind taking look at this bullet wound.”

  • Egil rushes from the truck with his pack in hand. As he appraches he guides gunny insistantly to the ground and has him lean against his pack as the doctor examines the sodden field dressing and the wound underneath

Uriel:
“How’s it look?”

  • Gunny Hernandez as the doc inspects his bullet wound “There were five of them, didn’t get a chance to observe them very long. So there might be more.”

Egil:
It looks bad but the bullet seems to have passed through without hitting the bone or any arteries. You are a lucky man.

  • Gunny Hernandez continues to fill them in on the details that he was able to pick up.
  • Egil washes the area with water from his canteen and then swabs the area with alcohol. Gunny Hernandez draws a breath between gritted teeth as he continues his description.

Uriel:
“First thing that comes to mind is repurposing Hidden Creek’s refugee labor into tunnel builders, and we’ll come at them like the VC.”

Uriel:
“Barring that, I’m out of ideas.”

The Col.:
The structure you described on the north side is interesting

The Col.:
You said it had towers around it. They must be keeping something or someone inside.

  • Gunny Hernandez nods “Aye sire, some sort of slave pens.”

The Col.:
Maybe that’s where the missing kids have gotten off to.

Gunny Hernandez:
“I didn’t see any kids but they could working fields or like Uriel said, building tunnels.”

The Col.:
It seems like a lot of work for a bunch of knucklehead bandits. They steal what they want.

Uriel:
“Do we need another look you think? To get a firmer idea of what we’re up against?”

Gunny Hernandez:
“More intelligence is never considered a bad thing.”

The Col.:
They were on the ball enough to hit the Gunny and that’s a feat I havent seen much of.

The Col.:
How long is he going to need doc?

Gunny Hernandez:
“Though we have to note that they’ll be more alert now, they think it was a Ruskie.”

Gunny Hernandez:
“I believe it was panic fire, they didn’t know what they were shooting at sire. Just some damn bad luck.”

Gunny Hernandez:
“Truely shoot first, ask later.”

Uriel:
“How do we go in then? Clandestine, or shock and awe?”

Egil:
In two days, If I can keep him off the leg for that long, He should be fit enough to continue unimpared.

The Col.:
Can we count on you to not get yourself in trouble for two days?

Gunny Hernandez:
“My trigger finger is fine Colonel. I’d provide fine fire support, but if you order me to wait, I wait.”

The Col.:
Id rather have you at 100% so you can pull my ass out of the fire if needed.

The Col.:
Two days then.

Uriel:
“Rough it out here, or head back to Hidden Creek?”

The Col.:
No sense wasting the fuel. We’ll manage here.

Comments

Whydon

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