Leaving Kamiensk (10-11 October 2000)

The team spends a couple of days in Kamiensk – resting, healing, repairing their gear, brewing fuel, helping out with the local harvest, and analyzing the take from their raid on Shotkin’s headquarters. They can’t stay indefinitely, though. Winter is closing in and they’re only halfway to the expedition’s destination.

The sky is low and sullen as the team loads up. Most of the village turns out to see them off. Father Miroslav leads a prayer for those who still hold faith and blesses the team’s vehicles. With a last round of farewells, they mount up and roll south.

Their first destination isn’t far away. During their route planning discussions, someone suggested a quick stop at Radomsko’s airport to see what else might be salvageable – particularly in the control tower, which seemed to have somehow resisted the decay that’s otherwise widespread in the ruined city.

The trip in is without resistance, though some changes are evident. Over the last couple of days, the team has heard occasional gunfire in the city. They’ve assumed it’s Shotkin’s subordinate bands settling the new pecking order now that the warlord is out of the picture. As they pass the farming collectives on the city’s north side, the locals are out and about, gathered in small groups. There’s quite a bit more curious interest in the convoy than Radomsko’s citizenry has displayed before. No one flags them down or fires at them, though.

The airport is quiet as the team pulls up. Betsy, Erick, and Hernandez take security on the south side with the UAZ. Betsy stays in the gun ring with the M2, while Erick and Hernandez set up the SPG-9 on its tripod. To the north, Ellis, Bell, Ortiz, and Octavia remain with Comms. Cowboy, the team’s resident electrician, heads up to the tower to rig a pulley. Cat remains at ground level with Industrial Light and Mayhem to receive and stow salvage. Miko veers off to investigate the rest of the terminal and admin building, looking specifically for a microwave – Cowboy has plans. Pettimore climbs the control tower for an elevated lookout position.

Just because I give you a battlemap, don’t assume I’m giving you a battle. Control tower map by Federico Ferretti on DriveThruRPG.

An hour’s work yields a good haul of electronic components, two console-mounted aviation-band radios, and a semi-portable weather station. Cowboy is lowering the last load to Cat when Pettimore calls an alert. Two civilian cars and a BRDM-2 are heading toward the airport from the southwest.

The team tracks the incoming vehicles but doesn’t want to make the first move. The small convoy pulls onto a taxiway and heads straight for the terminal building. The Polski Fiats peel off, each disgorging a trio of riflemen behind cover. The BRDM parks in the open, swinging its gun to cover Comms. Over a loudspeaker crudely welded to the turret, someone begins making demands in Russian for the team to leave their territory immediately. The gunner squeezes off a warning burst over Comms.

Pettimore’s patience expires first. He’s been holding aim on the BRDM, and its vision slits are open. He squeezes off seven rounds from Thoughts and Prayers. The loudspeaker emits a wet sound of impact and a crackle of static, then goes dead. The scout car holds position for a moment longer, then executes a J-turn and begins withdrawing in the direction from which it arrived. The six dismounts appear to be confused and dismayed by this unexpected turn of events.

Pettimore whistles down to Miko to get his attention, then tosses down the arrow from Rasputin’s bow that he’s been carrying since it went through Ellis’ arm. Miko takes the arrow and Shotkin’s Nagant, moves up through the terminal building, and tosses them out onto the tarmac. There’s a brief grinding sound as six paradigms abruptly shift, and then the remaining marauders are backing away toward their cars.

[The team had gone in hoping to not have a fight on their hands, so I was not planning to run one. This was supposed to be a tense but non-combat encounter to illustrate the disarray of the local marauders in the post-Shotkin power vacuum. It nearly turned into “we have an SPG-9, your argument is irrelevant.]

Having pushed their luck enough, the team packs up and withdraws. Once outside the city, they go cross-country, circling to the west. A freshly-adorned hanging tree demonstrates that at least one of the local farming collectives has already taken marauder removal into its own hands.

The next major obstacle is the Warta River. Due to some navigational difficulties along the way, the team doesn’t make their way back to the main highway until late in the afternoon, and dusk is falling by the time they’re approaching the bridge. Even from a couple hundred meters out, Betsy can tell she’s got her work cut out for her. The bridge deck is more crater than intact roadway.

At least some tools are available. It appears someone had staged the equipment for an attempt at a repair. A crane is parked on the north side of the span, along with a pile of repair materials and a couple of shipping containers. Farther off to three east, a scattering of derelict military vehicles – an MT-LB, a BTR-70, and a T-55 – suggests a possible reason for the interrupted work.

Modular terrain maps by Pulpscape from Patreon, augmented by vehicle and scatter terrain tokens from the same source. This was actually a pretty good match for the real-world width of the Warta in this location.

Looking around, the area is actually somewhat resource-rich. A highway maintenance garage stands about a hundred meters to the north, and there’s a sand pit with a derelict front-end loader a few hundred meters to the east.

The team sets a perimeter and dismounts. Betsy begins assessing the damage. It appears someone who knew what they were doing set a cratering charge on the bridge deck. There’s also some spalling on the support pylons in the middle of the span, and their steel reinforcements are cracked and rusted. If the team can get the crane running again, Betsy thinks she can get the bridge in good enough shape to take the UAZ-469 and Comms… but Industrial Light and Mayhem is a beefy 10 tons unladen, and closer to 15-18 tons with its current load. It’s going to be dicey, and it’ll take a few days. But the alternative is to continue following the Warta south and hope to find another crossing point somewhere in unknown territory. The team sets up camp for the night.


The weather the next morning improves somewhat, with the clouds parting to reveal stray patches of blue. After breakfast, most of the team sets to various tasks – repairing the crane and converting it to run on alcohol fuel, setting up the still, inventorying construction materials and running very rough math on what will be required for field-expedient repairs.

Miko sets off on his own to explore the surrounding area. He’s about two hours out from camp when he spots the first sign of company. Three horsedrawn wagons, accompanied by a half-dozen or so people on foot, are rolling along a farm road, heading generally south toward the river.

Miko watches for a while, then decides to make contact. It doesn’t end in gunfire, but it doesn’t go particularly well. Miko is well-adapted to solo survival, but the price of that is a certain lack of social graces. To the merchant caravan, he looks like a distraction for an ambush, and they warn him off not quite at gunpoint.


When Miko reports back in, Ellis and Pettimore exchange looks. They’ve been working together long enough to have the same thought: we need more intel. Within an hour, they’re eastbound on foot, carrying a heavy load of trade goods to reinforce Ellis’ legend.

Pettimore has no difficulty picking up the merchants’ trail. The duo catches up to the convoy shortly before nightfall, encamped in an abandoned farm. Pettimore finds a good overwatch position and settles in with Thoughts and Prayers. Ellis sets his appearance to be that of an itinerant trader and heads in on foot.

Initial contact is relatively smooth once the initial awkwardness of an unexpected visitor passes. Ellis introduces himself as Maksim Kuusik, layering an Estonian accent over his Polish (from Miko’s earlier report, the traders’ spokesman “sounded like Leks,” so Ellis infers that the man is likely from one of the Baltic republics). Maksim is a merchant himself, currently trafficking in luxury foodstuffs and liquors. The traders’ leader, Gabor Vanags, offers him the hospitality of the group’s temporary hearth and a chance at commerce.

Over a meal – lubricated by a bottle of the good booze from Ellis’ pack – Ellis learns that the merchants are partnered with a team of salvagers somewhere up north (Gabor is understandably a bit vague on the subject of exactly where he’s getting his supplies). The rest of the group is a mix of Poles, Baltic ex-Soviets, and a couple of Finns, and appears mostly civilian. Gabor’s crew is headed south to Krakow with a load of winter clothing. Is Ellis/Maksim interested? Oh, yes.

Ellis’ alternate persona works out a deal for enough winter clothing to equip the entire expedition. As he’s inspecting the wares, though, he notices that one of the wagons holds something else under its load of coats and socks. It’s a large mechanical device, disassembled and packed down, along with a couple of old and weathered wooden cases. Ellis has suspicions.

As he’s wrapping up the deal, Ellis blinks, as if a thought has occurred to him. “Oh, there’s just one more thing…”

Gabor turns. “Hmm?”

Ellis pulls out his notepad and quickly sketches an annotated map that gives the approximate position of the 124th Motor Rifle Division. “Here – for free,” he says, handing Gabor the note and watching for a reaction.

“Huh.” Gabor looks at it. Looks back at Ellis. Passes the paper to the Finn who seems to be his second. “So it’s like that, then?” There’s a general stir as the group realizes what Ellis/Maksim just did. Their wary/curious slider moves back toward the wary end of the scale.

Ellis cocks an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you mean by, ‘like that.’ If I’ve done something to offend… I believed sharing the location of the 124th would be beneficial… especially considering how things went for us,” he states, indicating the Baltic heritage Maksim ostensibly shares with Gabor.

“Not a lot of literate men out here these days,” the Finn says slowly, in heavily-accented Polish. “Where’d you learn to read?”

Ellis shrugs. “Primary school, mostly, but if I’m being honest, I was reading before starting school. But you’re right. Not a lot of literate folk these days.”

“Seems rarer since the war,” Gabor states. “You’ve probably noticed that. Lots of blank spots on the map, too.”

“True statements… I had a good feeling that reading wasn’t an issue for you and yours, though I didn’t think extending that trust would be seen as potentially unsettling. Forgive me for taking that for granted.”

“Some people around here have been unfriendly to anyone who seems to know too much,” Gabor says. He takes the sketch-map back from the Finn and rests his finger atop the dot labeled Radomsko. “Your kid had something to say about that.”

“Ahh… yeah, that’s true, there are definitely folks who are not very kind to those who still have their letters.” Glancing at the map, Ellis nods again. “Yes, the Warlord and his personal gang have been killed as I understand it. Shotkin was very much against reading, and when I dropped in a few weeks ago to try to trade, no one there could either read or write… nor wanted to trade much.”

“Well,” Gabor muses. “Maybe the neighborhood is less unfriendly, but I think it’ll be a while before we try our luck in Radomsko again. We had similar results a few months ago.”

Ellis smiles. “I’d give them at least a month to let the gangs finish killing each other off. I have a good feeling that there won’t be systematic destruction of books, magazines, presses, and maps now that Shotkin is out of the picture.”

The exchange of oh-shit glances among the traders confirms the suspicion Ellis has been harboring since he spotted the hidden cargo. He maintains his deadpan expression.

“Huh. Let’s hope the new management is friendlier, once they’ve sorted things out.” Gabor scratches his beard. “Well, then. If we keep you much longer, your friends out there might get concerned. Safe travels, Maksim.”

“Likewise, Gabor. Safe travels.” With that, Maksim/Ellis hefts his overloaded rucksack and begins heading back out to the road – and the “friends” he’s implied are waiting in the dark in case he suffers a misfortune.

He’s taken a few steps when Gabor calls out. “Oh. Maksim?” He waits for Ellis to turn back, then tosses him something small and metallic.

Ellis catches the object and holds it up to examine it in the dim light from the group’s cookfire. It’s an iron disc about the size of a large coin, evidently hand-stamped. One side bears the Polish double-headed heraldic eagle; the other, a cross.

Maksim waits just a beat too long, watching Ellis reaction, then nods as if he’s satisfied some sort of curiosity. Or as if Ellis has passed some sort of test. “For luck,” he calls.

“Thanks, Gabor. We can use all the luck we can find out there.” Ellis pockets the coin and moves out.

Pettimore is waiting down the road and transfers some of Ellis’ load to his own ruck while the intelligence officer unpacks his interactions. “Huh. Iron. Cold-forged, I reckon. Man thought you weren’t exactly human, huh?”

“Huh… they’re more read-in than I realized. Interesting crew, those folks. Reminds me of some other folks,” Ellis replies.

“So any idea of what was in that wagon?”

Ellis chuckles. “I’d bet nickles we don’t have to dollars we can’t spend that it’s a printing press for a secret buyer in Krakow.”

NPC: Technical Sergeant Luis Hernandez, U.S. Air Force

Luis Hernandez grew up in New Hampshire in the shadow of Mount Washington. Being able to see the peak with the reputed worst weather in the country spurred what would become a lifelong interest in meteorology. After completing his undergraduate studies at CU Boulder, he spent a couple of years working for the National Weather Service, but desk-bound work was eating his soul. When a co-worker mentioned that the Air Force had its own meteorologists, Luis skipped lunch to visit the local recruiter’s office. A line on a list of job options leaped out at him: “Special Operations Weather Technician.” It sounded pretty badass…

Hernandez was one of the few AFSOC personnel still operating in the European theatre by mid-2000. When Task Force Cobalt was being assembled, someone with stars on his collar decided the team might be able to use a shooter with some geek credentials. When things came apart in the days after the raid on Lodz, Hernandez found himself in a HMMWV with Cat Mitchell and two other survivors…


Strength C: Stamina D

Agility B: Mobility C (Paratrooper), Ranged Combat C (Rifleman)

Intelligence A: Recon C, Survival B (Meteorologist), Tech D (Communications)

Empathy C

Key Gear: comms and signals kit, M4A1

Languages: Russian (basic), Spanish (basic), Polish (fragmentary)

NPC: Spec/4 Henry Bell, U.S. Army

Before the war, Henry was a saxophonist in the U.S. Army Band, in it for the G.I. Bill benefits.  No one was more surprised than he when he was deployed to perform his original MOS as a signals intelligence voice intercept linguist.  He spent most of the war in a SIGINT truck behind the lines, trying to pluck Soviet transmissions out of the air.

Bell was captured after the Battle of Kalisz when 5th ID’s headquarters was overrun. He spent several weeks as a Soviet POW before seizing a chance to escape, which was when he encountered the team. Since then, he’s been filling in on a variety of support tasks for Ellis. He’s currently assigned as the driver for Comms, the team’s BTR-70K, though he’s both more adept and happier as a linguist and radio operator.


Strength C

Agility C: Driving D, Ranged Combat D

Intelligence A: Recon C, Survival D, Tech C

Empathy B: Persuasion B (Linguist, Musician)

Key Gear: radio; an AKM he’d rather not have to use

Languages: Russian (native), Korean (fluent), Polish (fluent), German (pidgin)

NPC: PFC Allison Ortiz, U.S. Army

Shit, man, I just wanted to get out of South Miami and get money for college. How was I supposed to know the Army was gonna have a war?

Alison Ortiz is a short, well-muscled Latina with intense eyes and a prominent burn scar on her left cheek.  Cuban-born, she came to Florida with her family as part of the 1980 Mariel boatlift.  As a teenager in South Miami, she split her time between the emerging street-racing culture and her parents’ Key Biscayne dive shop. 

Alison enlisted in the Army at 18 to earn G.I. Bill benefits.  Originally trained in supply and logistics, she took the opportunity to cross over to infantry duty when the Army opened up combat careers to women in late 1996.  She figured that if she was going to get sent to war anyway, her chances of survival would be better around actual soldiers than in the middle of a collection of clerks and jerks.  In retrospect, it may not have been the best idea, but it’s gotten her this far.

Alison was formerly a squad automatic riflewoman in 3-143 Infantry, one of the component units of the U.S. 5th Infantry Division.  She was captured after the Battle of Kalisz when her vehicle was struck by artillery fire and spent several weeks as a Soviet POW before the team liberated her. Currently, her usual assignment is driver for the expedition team’s 10-ton truck, Industrial Light and Mayhem.


Strength B: Heavy Weapons B, Stamina C (Load Carrier)

Agility B: Driving C (Racer), Mobility C (Diver), Ranged Combat D

Intelligence B: Survival D

Empathy C

Key Gear: RPK-74; M9

Languages: Cuban Spanish (native), English (fluent but accented), Polish (pidgin)

Raid on Radomsko, Intelligence Analysis (08 October 2000)

The following was post-session investigation and analysis handled on our chat server. I’ve transcribed it here with light edits.


Octavia and Erick have no trouble cleaning and dressing everyone’s wounds. There are no secondary infections, and everyone heals with the expected speed (though most of the team crashes and sleeps for the better part of twelve hours once they’re back in Kamiensk, and eat ravenously upon awakening).

Of particular note, despite having taken a serious hit, Comrade also is up and moving normally after a similarly long and uncharacteristically deep nap. His only apparent lasting effect is a patch of white fur over his new scar. He is, however, begging food from everyone except Miko, who he continues to avoid.

With living patients taken care of, Octavia and Erick turn their attention to Rasputin’s decapitated body and severed head.

Whatever healing process Octavia thought she was seeing stopped when she took a hacksaw to the Kazakh. There is some inflammation and initial scar tissue formation around some of the minor injuries to suggest that she wasn’t imagining it.

The fibrous subcutaneous layer (which Erick also observed on Shotkin) is present everywhere. It’s between 2mm and a 0.5mm thick, with the thinnest places being face, joints, genitals, and extremities and the thickest being across the torso. It’s remarkably cut-resistant – Octavia dulls several scalpel blades on it and has to hand them off to Cowboy for resharpening (and the hacksaw blade is just done). Betsy’s 5.56mm rounds penetrated it in several places, and the overall reduction in internal trauma is similar to that seen with soft body armor. In game terms, Rasputin had Armor 1 everywhere – on top of the protection from the vest he was wearing.

Rasputin’s skull also displays some signs of bone growth – it’s about 1mm thicker than it should be. It’s not even, and there are the beginning of spurs and nodules. Inside the skull, there’s also anomalously increased growth and blood flow in the parts of the brain that process auditory and olfactory input.

Inside the chest cavity, once the examiners finally get in there with the assistance of some non-medical tools, it looks like Rasputin was nearly killed at least once or twice before. Scar tracks through his lungs and liver are consistent with rifle-caliber penetrating hits. In both cases, the wound tracks show anomalous healing… and other growth. There are dense, glossy black, tumor-like structures speckled throughout the wound areas. They’re in an advanced state of decomposition compared to the tissue around them. Disturbingly, where they’re densest, there’s also evidence of new organ growth. The damaged lung appears to have a half-developed third lung alongside it, attached to the corresponding bronchial tube. There’s a similar structure next to the damaged-and-healed liver that looks like a fetal liver.

The team doesn’t have a microscope for close examination of blood or tissue samples. However, it’s easy to improvise a centrifuge: tie a small container to the end of a string and have one of the local kids spin it for five minutes. When a control sample from one of the team gets this treatment, the nanites (briefly) precipitate out of solution (and Octavia confirms that Comrade is now carrying them). However, there’s no such precipitate from Rasputin, nor from the sample Erick took from Shotkin.

Rasputin also has one of those ugly circular wounds, very much like the one Shotkin had but not quite as inflamed. It’s in the same spot: left of centerline, just below the collarbone. Upon surgical examination, there’s a weak patch in the fibrous subdermal layer there, and the wound track goes to the aorta. If this was done with something mechanical, it was not medical-grade. The wound was too ragged and irregular for that. Upon closer examination, there’s healed scarring (and pinhead-sized nodules of those tumor-like things) on the surface of the aorta itself. The team is at the limit of what they can resolve with unaided eyesight, but they think the subcutaneous fibers also show evidence of repeated regrowth at the wound site.


Ellis takes point on analyzing the intel items collected from the museum. He pulls in Pettimore, Cat, Miko, and Bell, and eventually the whole team once they’re done with other tasks.

The Russian translation of the Koran is heavily annotated in a mix of Russian and Kazakh. It’s all the same handwriting, though there’s noticeable deterioration over time in both penmanship and coherence. The older annotations appear to be the writer’s own religious studies – a man trying to reconnect with his ancestors’ faith without benefit of formal tutelage. The newer notes are more like aggressive edits. There’s refutation of some passages, expansion of others, and an overall departure from the original theology (once Erick is done with the medical work, he’ll be able to confirm this from an academic perspective, as will Father Miroslav.

The general tone of the newer writing is consistent with the marauders’ observed behavior. There’s broad rejection of traditions of scholarship, hospitality, and any sense of exploration or discovery. Prohibited behaviors are broadly expanded to include any expression of other faiths – and any technology powered by anything more complex than simple machines or human or animal labor. There are some weird reinterpretations of passages on social customs, twisting them into something that’s almost a caste system written as a madman’s justification for despotism.

The notebook is more of the same – where it’s even intelligible. It’s written in Kazakh with some Russian loan words and a few shreds of Arabic, and no one present speaks Arabic or any Turkic language. Bell and Father Miroslav are able to piece together a few fragments. However, it is illustrated in places, and dates are easy to decipher. It appears to be a record of Shotkin’s interactions with an angelic being named al-Khidr, beginning in April 2000. This messenger revealed God’s displeasure at mankind for the destruction of Creation and charged Shotkin with being the hand of the divine in the local region. God’s new command, according to al-Khidr, was to return humanity to its intended pastoral state by eliminating all traces of the fallen world’s technology. As solidiers of God, Shotkin and his followers received special dispensation to use the weapons and tools of the old world in their efforts to bring about the new.

There are several versions of the star chart from the catchbasin ceiling. From what Cat and Betsy can recall from their celestial navigation training, each iteration grows more refined and accurate. The one deviation is the prominence of Altair – it’s in the right place relative to the rest of the sky, but it’s the pattern’s focal point, and far larger than its relative magnitude would normally show it.

Shotkin also wrote extensively about a process he underwent with al-Khidr, and it gives Erick and Father Miroslav some pause. They know of no direct equivalent in Islamic faith, and the warlord used an unfamiliar term. There’s some debate over whether “communion” is the closest equivalent, but after Bell unpacks some of the text around it, Father Miroslav suggests that “shriving” or “pennance” may be closer. It’s the closest Shotkin comes to pure religious expression in his writing. He’s short on practical details but long on flowery descriptions of the ritual’s exquisite pain and the release of sins and worldly cares. After each such encounter, Shotkin doesn’t write for a few days, and when he does, he often mentions that his “communion” requires extensive recovery – but he can feel himself growing stronger each time.

The dagger recovered from Shotkin is a bronze blade with an openwork hilt. It’s clearly ancient, and the hilt likely surrounded a wood core that’s long since rotted away. Despite its age, it’s still quite sharp. It was well-made once, but it’s seen extensive use and is not as robust as a modern steel blade (Reliability caps at 4). Aside from the layered bloodstains that fleck its surface, it has no detectable properties that are out of character for what it is. Pettimore and Father Miroslav agree it was most likely looted from the museum.


The rescued prisoner, Sebastian Mazur, takes about 36 hours to come back to full lucidity. Physically, he’s chronically malnourished and had started to develop sores on his ankles where he was chained up. He has a number of bruises from the beating he took when he was captured, and he’s not displaying any accelerated healing.

His last clear memory is the flight and capture whose end the recon team witnessed. He and a few of his friends were clearing debris from a field for cultivation when they found a leather rucksack containing a few books. The experience he describes is similar to what the team has seen when the brain fog lifts – they found themselves standing there, suddenly having remembered the concept of book. Once they recovered, they immediately started planning their escape. A patrol of Shotkin’s forces spotted them and they split up. He doesn’t know what happened to the others. He and the two with him were captured and severely beaten, then brought to the warlord.

Things get a little hazy for Sebastian after that. He witnessed something, but even the combined powers of Ellis and Father Miroslav can’t convince him to look directly at those memories. From the fragments he can remember and communicate, he was witness to at least one ritual in the starmap chamber, attended by Shotkin, Rasputin, and Shotkin’s personal war-band. Shotkin invoked al-Khidr as a divine messenger, guardian, and patron. Witek, one of Sebastian’s captured friends, was an offering to al-Khidr. Sebastian says al-Khidr “took” Witek, but can’t or won’t elaborate on how Witek was “taken” and becomes near-violent if pushed on al-Khidr’s appearance or identity.

Between that and his rescue, Sebastian and Renata (the girl who Shotkin sacrificed in front of the team) were kept chained in the alcove off the maintenance tunnel. They received maintenance rations of food and water. Shotkin occasionally spoke to them, but Sebastien characterizes it as a madman’s sermons from an unholy book and couldn’t make any sense of it. The fragments he relates align with the team’s decryption/translation of Shotkin’s writing. Sebastien believes he and Renata were under constant surveillance during their captivity – “they were always watching us,” he says.

Sebastian is mildly agoraphobic in the daytime. At night, he refuses to go outdoors for fear of seeing stars. “They won’t stop watching me,” he repeats over and over.

Raid on Radomsko, Part Four (07 October 2000)

This series of posts spans one session of planning, two and a half sessions of gameplay, and some asynchronous private chat conversations, all focused on concluding one story arc. In play, both groups were active simultaneously, with focus shifting between the two every 15 to 30 minutes of realtime or every one to three rounds of combat. For narrative purposes, Parts One through Four of this series will alternate focus somewhat asynchronously.

Combat in this session was run using the CQB rules for Urban Operations, with a fairly abstract map.


In the museum’s administrative wing, it’s decision time. By now, someone surely is aware that the marauders’ headquarters is under siege. The infiltration element hasn’t encountered Shotkin, Rasputin, or any prisoners yet.

Cat, holding position on the door to the lobby, spots something large and low-slung moving in the street. She can’t be certain, but it’s the right size for the marauders’ BMP-3. The infiltration team has nothing that can penetrate an infantry fighting vehicle’s armor.

“We’re on a clock,” Ellis decides. He pulls back his cuff and rotates his wristwatch’s crown. “We’re going to see what’s down there. Fifteen minutes and we’re leaving.”

There’s a rapid weapon swap. Pettimore takes point with Thoughts and Prayers up, despite the close confines. Miko is close behind him with a flashlight and his machete. Ellis takes up the middle, taking over the KS-23 that Miko recently liberated from a downed marauder. Erick and Cat bring up the rear with shotguns ready.

The bottom of the stairs lets out into the museum’s mechanical room. It’s dirty, greasy, rusty, wet, spider-infested, and far too tight for comfort. Pettimore takes a knee and motions for Miko to lower his flashlight. In the single passageway between machinery and storage shelves, layers of footprints in the muck tell the story of frequent and recent passage. There’s some evidence of bare feet, too – and drag marks. The Marine points them out and frowns.

The tracks lead to a set of heavy double doors. Cat casts her light around, landing on a grime-covered sign bolted to the wall. Pettimore sweeps a hand across it: Schron Przeciwatomowy.

“Fallout shelter,” Miko translates.

With guns pointed, the team pulls back the doors. The space beyond is cavernous. Rows of benches sit empty, with crumpled ration boxes and discarded clothes and bedding drifted around their legs. At the far end of the space, the flashlight beams barely can pick out another set of double doors, these cracked open about a meter. Nothing but darkness is visible beyond them.

The team advances into the shelter. They’re halfway down its length when gunfire erupts from the doors at the far end. Something smashes Ellis’ chest and he goes down. Miko drops his flashlight; the rolling beam picks out sickly yellow-white mist boiling up.

“Gas, gas, gas!” Pettimore yells. Suppressive fire goes out as the team backs out, pulling on their gas masks. A metallic thud echoes through the shelter as the doors at the far end of the space are hauled shut.

Ellis coughs hard and tries not to fold over at the pain from ribs that, if not broken, are most certainly going to be a spectacular mass of hematoma in the morning. He pulls out a handful of his spare KS-23 rounds and holds one under Cat’s flashlight. “Tear gas round,” he says. “Bet they’ve got another one of these.”

“You’re lucky you still have a chest,” Pettimore observes. He plucks a different round from Ellis’ hand. “I read a tech brief about these slugs. They’re designed for vehicle stops. If it’ll go through a Volga’s engine block, I’ll bet it’ll go through that door. Wish we had a breaching charge, though.”

Cat snorts. “Hey, you guys remember when we were planning this op and Ellis asked Betsy to build one of those for us?”

Ellis wipes at his watering eyes. “I did? I did. Yes.”

Cat unslings her pack and produces a duct-taped assemblage of broken tent poles with a kilo of C-4 at its heart. “So, I don’t actually wanna haul this back to camp…”

With four guns covering her, Cat advances to the far door. The tear gas fumes burn on her exposed skin. Working as quickly as she can, she emplaces the charge and retreats, unspooling the fuse behind her. “Close the doors,” she advises. She takes a knee, starts the fuse, and quickly covers her ears…

WHAM-crack!

The team swings the shelter’s entrance open. They don’t need their flashlights to assess the results of Betsy’s prior work and Cat’s deployment of it. Beyond the now-open doors at the shelter’s far end, flames dance. “Assholes rigged the doors with a frag and a Molotov,” Erick observes.

“That means they’re not right there right now,” Ellis says. “Move it.”

“Hold up,” says Pettimore. He releases the magazine from Thoughts and Prayers, pulls the charging handle to eject the chambered round, and returns the cartridge to the magazine. He returns the magazine to his chest rig, then reaches into a separate utility pouch. The magazine he withdraws is striped in silver paint pen. He seats the new mag and runs the Dragunov’s bolt. “Okay. Good to go.”

Beyond the doors, an old subterranean utility corridor runs east-west. It’s lined with generations of pipes and cables. To the east, it opens out into what looks like a storm sewer. To the west, it continues only a few meters before ending in an old collapse. The nook that the collapse forms, though, shows signs of recent habitation – and several sets of chains set into heavy bolts driven into the stone and concrete.

The storm sewer is old but still stable. Narrow walkways run along either side, flanking a broad semicircular channel that’s currently about half-full of runoff from the ongoing rainstorm. The tracks in the muck lead south.

The team pushes up cautiously. As they advance, they begin noticing irregular speckles of light on the ceiling. Beyond the reach of their flashlight beams, a greater darkness yawns. Firelight glimmers off the surface of a retention basin.

Across the channel, something stirs. It’s a carpet hung across a side entrance. At a gesture from Ellis, Miko slips into the water and crosses to check it out. He’s easing the tip of his machete forward to sweep it aside when he spots motion at the entrance to the retention basin.

The museum basement and what lay beyond it.

The team drops flat as gunfire erupts from both sides of the entryway. Cat grunts as a round finds her, but she props herself up and begins returning fire along with Erick and Pettimore. Ellis rolls into the channel and starts working his way forward, only his head above water. Miko yells and dashes forward, bringing his machete down. The blade rings off a gun barrel as his target parries.

Beyond the archway, the team spots Shotkin standing on a metal inspection platform that extends over the water. Behind him is a slab of concrete or stone, its purpose obvious in context. In front of him are two of the prisoners whose reception the team witnessed during their earlier reconnaissance mission. Both of them are unresisting – unresponsive, even – despite the erupting gunfight and the lack of visible restraints.

“Got you,” Pettimore hisses. He comes up to a knee and steadies Thoughts and Prayers.

Shotkin raises his face to the ceiling and the sky beyond it. “Al-Khidr, come to us now and strike down these intruders who defile your sacred altar!” he shouts in Russian. There’s a flash of bronze as he reaches around and cuts the throat of the teenage girl standing at his right hand. She offers no resistance. Blood begins to pulse as Shotkin pushes her into the pool.

Pettimore screams in rage and fires. Shotkin staggers back but snatches the shirt of the remaining prisoner and pulls the young man in front of him.

Erick and Cat concentrate their fire on the marauder with the submachine gun who’s holding the left side of the entrance. He pulls back at the hail of bullets. Ellis comes out of the water almost at his feet and narrowly misses him with a round of buckshot. The marauder rips a burst into Ellis’ chest but the agent’s armor holds. A second 6-gauge blast tears through the marauder’s vest and the organs behind it, dropping him.

Pettimore puts a round into Shotkin’s forehead. The Kazakh staggers but still doesn’t fall. Unbelievably, he draws a revolver and begins returning fire.

Miko’s opponent empties his shotgun but can’t connect with a machete-wielding teenager in his face. Miko cuts him down and starts running toward Shotkin.

Pettimore breathes and fires again. The Kazakh warlord collapses. His prisoner staggers and falls forward into the pool.

Miko swings his shotgun around and moves in cautiously. Pettimore and Erick start running toward the platform, moving around the other side of the drainage channel. Without speaking, they drop whatever encumbering gear they can remove quickly and slip into the pool, moving toward the two prisoners.

Pettimore feels a surge of motion against his leg. Something pulls the girl’s body beneath the dark surface in a rush of displaced water. “Out of the water, out of the water now!” The two men haul themselves and the surviving teenager out of the basin.

Pettimore stands, unholsters his MEU(SOC), and empties it into Shotkin’s head. Then he reloads and trains his sidearm on the water. Just for a moment, not long enough to take a shot, he catches the impression of a pair of large, unblinking eyes beneath the water. A swirl of long, powerful limbs. And a sense of cold, dispassionate disappointment. Then it’s gone. Quietly, Pettimore intones, “I see you, monster. I see you, and I rebuke you.”

Ellis reloads and looks at his watch. “Three minutes,” he orders. “Miko, with me.” Miko looks up from where he’s looting Shotkin’s body. The two move to the carpet-draped entrance again and cautiously clear it. Beyond is a small maintenance alcove converted into one-person living quarters and a study. They toss it ruthlessly. A rickety bookshelf yields a Russian translation of the Koran, heavily annotated, and a couple of notebooks. Miko also turns up half a can of radium-laced luminescent paint.

Cat looks at the can in Miko’s hand as he comes out of the side chamber. “That explains something.” She jerks her chin at the softly-glowing motes scattered across the ceiling. “This is a star map.” Her hand comes up and she traces the invisible lines connecting a few constellations. “Looks like it’s centered on… Altair.”

“How’d he get up there to paint it?” Ellis asks rhetorically. He turns to Miko. “Hey, do those dead guys have another Molotov left?”

Miko checks. “One here.”

Ellis flicks a hand in the direction of Shotkin’s burrow. “Burn it.”

Pettimore prods Shotkin’s still form with the toe of his boot. “You see that?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Erick says. “That ain’t normal. Get the video camera.” He pulls a scalpel from his medical kit and begins peeling back Shotkin’s remaining scalp, narrating as he goes. “Skull is thicker than it should be. There’s some sign of irregular bone growth. Something weird here – hey, zoom in on this. Blade’s having a hell of a time cutting it, it’s like there’s something woven just under his skin. Aaaand… ew. Left side of the torso, just below the collarbone, we have a circular wound about four inches across. Unknown mechanism of injury. Some inflammation and scarring, like it’s recurring trauma.”

“Looks like a lamprey bite,” Pettimore comments. “But bigger.”

“Time’s up,” Ellis declares. “Get a blood sample for the doc and we’re out of here.”


The ambush and infiltration elements link up without further incident. As they head back to Kamiensk, taking a roundabout route to deter tracking or pursuit, they can hear gunfights erupting in the city…

Raid on Radomsko, Part Three (07 October 2000)

This series of posts spans one session of planning, two and a half sessions of gameplay, and some asynchronous private chat conversations, all focused on concluding one story arc. In play, both groups were active simultaneously, with focus shifting between the two every 15 to 30 minutes of realtime or every one to three rounds of combat. For narrative purposes, Parts One through Four of this series will alternate focus somewhat asynchronously.


The ambush element (Betsy, Cowboy, Octavia [with Comrade], and Ortiz) displaces a few hundred meters west and hastily sets up in their next planned site. It’s an abandoned construction site, piles of heavy material scattered around in the shadow of a rusting crane. There are ample hiding places for the UAZ and for Betsy and her LMG. Cowboy and Betsy pick out hiding places with good fields of fire along the marauders’ expected approach route, ready to hit the gang a second time if they continue moving toward the museum.

Ambush site #2, cropped to show the area where the action actually took place…

Cowboy takes the opportunity to break out her tools and rig a replacement antenna for the UAZ’s radio. A quick check confirms that Bell, on radio watch back in Kamiensk, can hear her. There’s no reply from the infiltration element, though. [By this time, they were already in the boiler room – to be covered in tomorrow’s post – and out of radio contact.]

Cowboy has just settled back into the gunner’s position when something draws her attention to the roof of the one-story building southeast of the vehicle. She’s turning toward it when an arrow clangs off the UAZ’s improvised armor.

[In my GM prep notes for these sessions, I had written:

If alerted, Ibrashev (Rasputin) will go stealthy and show up behind the PCs at the least-opportune time. He’ll snipe with his bow to reduce his detection chances. If possible, he’ll try to pick off an isolated victim and take them prisoner for later interrogation or… use.

This was what he saw as his best opportunity…]

Betsy begins running toward the offending building. Cowboy can’t see the shooter yet, but she grabs her PKM and begins putting blind suppressive fire in the general direction from which the arrow came. More arrows come back at her.

Inside the UAZ, Comrade is going berserk, trying to go after the unseen aggressor. Octavia finally gives in to the inevitable and bails out, following Betsy and trying to keep hold of Comrade’s lead.

Betsy is about to start trying to climb the front of the building when the archer switches tactics. A grenade sails over the parapet. It goes wide, but rather than the expected shrapel-filled blast, it blossoms into a cloud of white smoke shot through with malignant fireflies.

Rather than stay out in the open with someone willing to throw white phosphorus grenades at them, Betsy and Octavia divert to the building to the north. Comrade follows with protests – he’s still straining for the most direct route, through the doors and up the stairs and into the archer’s face.

Cowboy finally spots the archer through the darkness and rain. Her return fire becomes more accurate, and she’s rewarded with a scattering of AK shots as her opponent changes tactics.

Betsy plows through a window and finds herself in an abandoned and looted medical office. A boot to the door gets her into the hallway; two turns and she’s on the stairs to the roof. Octavia and Comrade are behind her. The trio ducks into cover behind the mechanical penthouse, but not before confirming their opponent’s identity. As expected, it’s Rasputin. Realizing he’s flanked, the Kazakh arms a fragmentation grenade and lobs it over.

The shrapnel tears a chunk out of Comrade’s flank. That’s enough for the dog to go absolutely berserk. He yanks his lead out of Octavia’s hand and, running full-tilt, leaps the gap between the buildings. Whatever Rasputin was expecting out of tonight, it’s safe to assume that sixty kilos of enraged Chornyi Terrier in his face was not on the list. He’s now in a ground fight with Comrade latched onto his leg.

Betsy snarls in frustration, unable to get a clear shot with Comrade entangled. She holds position, waiting for her moment. Octavia starts running back down the stairs, heading to go retrieve her dog. Cowboy sees enough of this to also bail out and start moving toward the fight, snapping an order to Ortiz to get the UAZ running and be ready to roll.

Rasputin breaks free from Comrade, who circles angrily but can’t get past the Kazakh’s knife. Limping, the archer heads for the eastern edge of the roof. Betsy opens up, sending a long bust of 5.56mm into him, but he keeps moving, hauling himself over the edge of the building. He hits the ground in time to meet a buttstroke from Cowboy’s PKM. Glaring up at her, he pulls the last grenade from his web gear. Cowboy has enough time for, “oh, fu–” before her world goes white.

Rasputin pulls himself to his feet faster than anyone who was that close to a flashbang should ever be able to recover. It’s just in time for Betsy, who’d ducked below her roof’s parapet, to pop back up. She breathes, lines up her shot, and stitches him in the back. He goes down again. Octavia walks around the corner, smashes him twice in the face with her SVD’s stock, and flips the gun around and empties it into him.

At close range, the doctor can see something odd beneath Rasputin’s numerous wounds. There’s something just under his skin, a fibrous grayish-wide subcutaneous membrane. Octavia can’t be certain amid the rain and trickling blood, but she thinks some of those injuries are regenerating. “Kira,” she says to Cowboy without looking up, “go get that hacksaw I saw in the back of the truck.”

Raid on Radomsko, Part Two (07 October 2000)

This series of posts spans one session of planning, two and a half sessions of gameplay, and some asynchronous private chat conversations, all focused on concluding one story arc. In play, both groups were active simultaneously, with focus shifting between the two every 15 to 30 minutes of realtime or every one to three rounds of combat. For narrative purposes, Parts One through Four of this series will alternate focus somewhat asynchronously.

Combat in this session was run using the CQB rules for Urban Operations, with a fairly abstract map.


The infiltration element – Ellis, Miko, Cat, Pettimore, and Erick – caches the PTS-M and splits off from the ambush element. They don’t have as far to go, but they’re traveling on foot now, and there’s no way to avoid the cold, heavy rain. Cat plots a course that circles to the north of the target. They settle into a soggy wooded area and scan the museum. From here, it’s clear that the museum proper is the eastern side of the complex, and a series of additions has been built paralleling it. A narrow alley, barely wide enough for a service vehicle, runs between the two halves.

The marauders’ BMP-3 is parked at the turn-out from the alley with its bow pointed east, toward the street, and its turret cocked northwest for some reason. Its engine isn’t running and neither light nor movement is visible from it.

[In the following screen shot, the red oval encompasses the whole museum complex. Blue indicates doors – roll-up doors for the large boxes, ordinary personnel doors for the small boxes, and a revolving door at the circle at the museum’s main entrance.]

Miko takes point. Creeping past the BMP, he finds that the museum’s north face has a set of large glass windows that open outward, hinged at the top. On the inside of the glass, some sort of large vehicle is parked amidst displays of unfamiliar gear. Miko wedges his lucky crowbar into the one that looks the most promising and is rewarded with a soft tink of failing metal as the latch gives way.

The rest of the infiltration element moves up and finds themselves in a reconstructed engine bay from a 1950s fire station. It seems the building’s original use is still being memorialized. In the west wall, a discreet door leads to fire stairs heading up. For the moment, the team ignores that, moving to the double doors in the south to continue clearing the ground floor.

The next area was once a welcoming place, but the attenuated moonlight coming through the large street-side windows now falls on ranks of barren shelves. It was a branch library once, but someone’s stripped it of its contents. There’s still no evidence of recent activity or habitation here.

The team keeps moving. They find themselves in the first actual museum gallery: a display of local arts and crafts. Radomsko was a center of furniture and home goods production before the war, and this area tells the story of those industries. Several displays are arranged to depict local homes from different periods, and there is some evidence that this is now being used as a bunkroom. None of the inhabitants are present, though.

As Miko takes point through an open hallway leading south to the lobby, he catches something just on the edge of his hearing. Diverting down a side hallway, he finds the double doors that attracted his attention. He eases one open to find a conference room now repurposed as a bunkroom, with two marauders asleep on cots. Easing the door closed, he signals an interrogative to Ellis, who shakes his head and signs negation. Murder now is tempting, but the case officer isn’t sure the team can pull it off without noise. He turns to Pettimore and pantomimes something. The sniper nods agreement and steals back through the museum to the firefighting display, returning a couple of minutes later with a pike pole. Cat, Pettimore, and Miko carefully slide the pole through the door handles.

At the other end of the hallway, the lobby is an open expanse of tile. Large windows overlook a rain-sodden intersection. A broad staircase sweeps upward to a second-floor landing, presumably leading to more exhibits, and a door in the west wall is marked Official Use Only. No one likes the exposed sensation this space brings.

Museum first floor. At this point, the team hadn’t explored the admin wing, but this isn’t a major spoiler. They never got into the addition wing on the west side, which bypassed another possible encounter and some potential loot.

The team proceeds up the stairs, guns up and ready for trouble. The second-floor landing is another open area, empty display cases offering little cover or concealment. Skylights provide a fraction more light here, as well as on the gallery to the west, where the team can make out… animal shapes? Pettimore checks it out and discovers an exhibit on local farming in the 19th century. Inside the replica farmhouse, two more marauders have made themselves at home. The sniper wedges a rake under the rickety wooden door’s handle and withdraws.

There’s a brief discussion about how to handle the accessway to the turret on the museum’s southeast corner. In the team’s previous reconnaissance, the marauders had a sniper/observer post in there, and there’s a chance of a guard being posted up there even on a night like this. Miko volunteers to climb up machete-first; Pettimore suggests swiping another tool from the farming gallery and jamming the roof access hatch shut. In the end, the team settles for leaving well enough alone – but Erick and Cat will double up on rear guard.

Moving back north along the museum’s long axis, the next gallery focuses on archaeological findings from the area’s prehistory. Pettimore pauses here and sweeps his gaze along the walls. He points to several empty spaces. Sun-faded paint and wood and defaced plaques indicate that several weapons are missing from the exhibits.

Miko moves up to the entryway to the next gallery and freezes. Two shadowy figures are visible beyond, apparently engaged in conversation. The young Pole strains to overhear, but the constant surf-roar of the rain drowns out anything else. It takes him a few minutes of observation to realize he’s looking at mannequins dressed in 19th-century attire. Perhaps it’s his relief that leads him to assume the gallery is clear. As he advances, a tiny scrape of metal on wood is all the warning he has before the back corner erupts in gunfire. He throws himself flat as Ellis and Pettimore leap to the doorway and pour shotgun fire back at the marauders who’ve popped up from behind a display cabinet.

The team is briefly pinned between two marauder elements as the Kazakhs who were asleep in the replica farmhouse waste no time kicking down the wedged door to join the fray. It’s machetes, shotguns, and carbines against Kalashnikovs, knives, and SMGs. The fight is over quickly but any pretense of stealth is now gone. The infiltration element is left with speed and violence.

Miko and Pettimore swiftly clear the last remaining galleries, finding no further opposition. Cat and Erick hold rear guard while Ellis checks the bodies for intelligence. The CIA operative scoops up a Skorpion whose former owner won’t be needing it any more and motions toward the stairs, adding a “watch for ambush” hand signal.

Museum second floor.

Miko takes point again, heading downstairs. He’s just stepped off the staircase when a deafening shotgun blast rings out from the Official Use Only door. The shot pattern barely misses Miko, whose immediate instinct is to charge machete-first toward the source of the fire. Only his speed saves him as, from up the hall to the north, a machine gun cuts loose, raking the lobby with fire.

Caught on the staircase, the rest of the team has limited options for maneuvering. As they try to push forward to support Miko, an RDG-5 comes spinning out of the hallway. The explosion is shattering in the enclosed space of the lobby. Ellis and Erick reel aside with shrapnel wounds. Pettimore and Cat press forward, taking up firing positions at either side of the doorway and exchanging fire with the machine gunner. Pettimore goes down with a round to the arm, recovers, and drives a return round off the gunner’s helmet. Cat pivots, steps to the other doorway, and hammers rounds from her M4 into the shotgunner who’s sparring with Miko.

A shotgun blast to the helmet from Ellis convinces the machine gunner to pull back. With a rattle, pop, and hiss, a smoke grenade blossoms in the hallway, cutting off all visibility.

The team collects themselves and binds their wounds. Miko scoops up the shotgunner’s unfamiliar weapon, examines it, and starts giggling.

Checking the museum’s administrative area yields few clues but two options. Two doors along the north wall lead, respectively, to the annex… and to stairs down to the museum’s boiler room.


This fight would have been a lot nastier for the PCs if not for Ellis’ four successes on his Battle Planner roll during the prep session. Rerolls were expended for a good bit of ass-saving.

The ambush in the lobby was the two guys in the conference room. As soon as they heard the gunfight erupt upstairs, they tried to join in. The pike pole wasn’t much of a match for anti-vehicular slugs from the KS-23.

The flare that the ambush element saw was launched by the sniper/lookout, who was indeed up in the turret. He declined to join the gunfight inside the museum, but if anyone had tried to go up after him, they would have been met with an overwatch action and a full magazine of 7.62x25mm to the face from his Tokarev.

Raid on Radomsko, Part One (07 October 2000)

This series of posts spans one session of planning, two and a half sessions of gameplay, and some asynchronous private chat conversations, all focused on concluding one story arc. In play, both groups were active simultaneously, with focus shifting between the two every 15 to 30 minutes of realtime or every one to three rounds of combat. For narrative purposes, Parts One through Four of this series will alternate focus somewhat asynchronously.


A cold, heavy, steady rain is falling as the team moves to their jumping-off point on Radomsko’s east side. The weather is all they could have asked for, shrouding even the decidedly unstealthy bulk of the PTS-M carrying the infiltration element. The ambush element – Cowboy, Betsy, Octavia, Comrade, and Ortiz – is almost relieved to split off. Almost, because once the infiltrators dismount, the ambushers’ newly-upgunned UAZ-469 is now the largest and loudest target.

Radomsko’s streets are dark and and the pavement is rain-slick where it’s not choked with debris. Ortiz navigates carefully to the chosen location and backs the UAZ into the lee of a derelict two-story building that formerly housed a restaurant.

Cowboy pulls on her rain gear and climbs into the gun ring. She unlatches the travel locks on the weapon mount and swings the recoilless rifle through its full range of motion. “Loader, HEAT,” she murmurs. Octavia eases a 73mm shell into the breech and slaps the other woman’s leg to indicate that the weapon is loaded.

Betsy dismounts, enters the building, and climbs the stairs. She finds a spot with the ideal combination of rubble for cover and a section of floor that’s unlikely to further collapse. Setting her HK23 aside in a dry place, she unspools a length of wire, then tosses the rest of the coil down to ground level. She moves back downstairs, sets up a small curved plastic box on folding legs, and carefully connects two wires. Then she returns to her firing position and settles in to wait with her light machine gun propped on its bipod.


The ambush element has been in position for ten or fifteen minutes with Ortiz, waiting in the driver’s seat, hisses. Above the rooftops to the east, a red flare is rising into the sky from the general vicinity of the museum. Octavia climbs out and gives Betsy a low whistle, alerting her that contact is imminent.

The headlights appear first. It’s a single vehicle, but silhouettes cast by the lights indicate that an infantry screen is advancing in front of it. The lights also make a fine aiming point, so Cowboy takes her time lining up on the space between them. She tracks the target, waiting for Betsy to initiate the ambush.

Betsy has the detonator in her hand. When the leading pair of marauders is thirty meters from her position, she clacks off the MON-50. The directional mine shreds the point men. The three pairs following them go down with varying degrees of injury – and universal shock at a totally unexpected attack in the streets of a city they’ve come to think of as theirs.

Cowboy fires. The rocket-assisted HEAT round is still accelerating when it strikes the gun truck ninety meters away. The detonation is anticlimactic compared to the recoilless rifle’s firing signature, let alone the blast and carnage of the mine, but the shaped charge cores the truck’s engine block [5 penetrating damage]. The converted fire engine shudders to a halt in the middle of the street.

Not all of the marauders are suppressed, and they’re swiftly recovering from their initial surprise. Cowboy calls for a HE round and Octavia slams one into the SPG-9. Still aiming at the now-darkened bulk of the truck, the former MLRS artillerist puts her follow-up shot within half a meter of the first. The truck shudders again as something in its suspension gives out. The blast rips through the nearest marauders, still proned out on the asphalt. The gun truck’s crew loses their resolve at this and bails out, abandoning the dual RPD mount.

Betsy flips her HK23 off safe and starts sending bursts downrange, concentrating on the closest groups. Return fire starts coming in but the initial volleys go high or into her cover.

Cowboy fires three more HE rounds, going for the groups clustered around the disabled truck. The truck’s crew is bleeding heavily from blast and shrapnel wounds before they manage to drag themselves into the shelter of an alley and break line of sight. The marauders are still persistently refusing to give up, and are even advancing through buildings, moving with the eerie voiceless synchronicity.

At the back of the pack, a machine gun team gets itself sorted out and lays its PKM over the trunk of a derelict car. 7.62x54mm rounds start pinging off the UAZ’s add-on armor. One ricochets from Cowboy’s gun shield and clips the radio antenna. A rifle team makes it to a rooftop near Betsy’s position and forces her back with entirely-too-accurate fire.

With half the marauders down and their major firepower out of action, Cowboy decides it’s time to break off this engagement. Ortiz pulls around the building that the ambush element has been using for shelter. Betsy executes her pre-planned withdrawal option, bailing out an east-facing window. Her boots hit the roof of a dumpster with a hollow boom, and Cowboy and Octavia pull her into the UAZ. Ortiz peels out, heading for a second ambush site at the edge of an abandoned construction zone.


This part of the mission was wildly successful. The PCs inflicted about 33% casualties on the marauders, wounded a majority of the rest, and got a mobility kill on the gun truck. In return, they took minor vehicle damage and a couple of points of stress from suppression.

(Incidentally, this was an all-female mission with the technical exception of Comrade.)

Raid on Radomsko, Part Zero (07 October 2000)

The following series of posts spans one session of planning, two and a half sessions of gameplay, and some asynchronous private chat conversations, all focused on concluding one story arc. This occurs immediately after the events of Kamiensk Downtime and Radomsko Reconnaissance and Leks Takes a Walk,


Early on the morning of October 7th, Bell pulls Ellis aside at breakfast for a private chat. “Mister Ellis, did Sergeant Pettimore say anything to you about calling back to Ponikla?”

Ellis blinks, processing that for a moment. “No, I don’t believe so. Did you see him at the set?”

“Yeah. I was on radio watch late last night and a call came in for him from Alexei and Leks.”

The CIA agent frowns, considering the fact that up to this point, the team hasn’t maintained a radio log. Between a high level of internal trust and a general lack of radios, it’s been a non-issue. “Were they returning a previous call from him?”

Bell nods. “Yeah, they referenced him contacting them yesterday.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, Bell.” Ellis pauses, then asks rhetorically, “what do you think about having a log for radio usage?”

“Shit! Why didn’t I think of that before?” A slight hangdog expression crosses the SIGINT linguist’s face. “I’m gonna blame the brain fog for that one. Yeah, definitely, we need to start. It’s data.”

“Mmm.” Ellis considers that. “Oh, did you talk with them or was Pettimore available to take the call?”

“I woke Sergeant Pettimore up,” Bell confirms. “He took it from there.”

“Thanks, Bell.” Ellis claps the younger man on the shoulder. “I appreciate you giving me a heads-up.”


Ellis digests that information for a couple of hours, then pulls Pettimore aside for a chat around midmorning. It’s cordial, but Ellis has concerns. The team hasn’t had a radio log until now, they have no radio SOPs and no encryption, and there are Soviets very close by (the 124th Motor Rifle Division is only 20 kilometers away in Piotrków Trybunalski).

Unspoken is the awareness, slowly permeating through the group, that people are starting to hear things on the radio that should not be possible.


After a few hours of maintenance, harvest assistance, and reinforcing Kamiensk’s fortifications, the team gathers over lunch. Conversation quickly turns to planning for next steps. There’s a fair degree of uncertainty about the situation in Radomsko. Will hitting the marauders weaken them or provoke them?

Cowboy opines that even if taking out Shotkin makes the marauders worse, taking out Shotkin and Rasputin will make the world an objectively better place.

Pettimore steps forward and briefs out on the information he obtained from Filip. “I thought Rasputin was this thing I thought I killed. Was gonna kill. Am gonna kill, hell, I don’t know, timeline’s fucked up, Ellis.”

Octavia seizes on Filip’s puppeteer comment. “So they made a deal with something. What?”

Pettimore shrugs. “Filip wasn’t too clear on that.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say it was this al-Khidr thing they keep talking about,” puts in Cowboy.

Ellis presses Petimore a but on how Filip has access to the information he provided. Pettimore can’t provide great answers – Filip wasn’t evasive so much as struggling to fight the brain fog.

Cowboy’s focus on al-Khidr redirects the conversation to old things, new things, and things that should not exist at all. Betsy interjects, “My question is, is something wrong with time, or is someone manipulating time?” The derelict semiconductor factory is still on her mind. “Did we fall into a place where time was a little soft and fluid or was that a trap someone set?”

Miko chooses this moment to toss in his two złoty. Despite the evidence of his own recovery from near-fatal wounds, he’s still having problems with the others’ acceptance of apparent supernatural influences in the world. Pettimore and Octavia are having none of it, and quickly shut him down. Miko does at least defend his general lack of education with, “I don’t have a high school degree because my high school was nuked.”

Betsy and Cowboy both start to speak up. The two women exchange a quick glance and rock-paper-scissors. Cowboy nods and cedes the moment to Betsy, confident that they’re both on the same page. “Look, we know where these guys have at least a couple of their bases, but we also have some of their patrol routes. How about we hit one of their teams when they’re far from backup and see if whatever is influencing them can stand up to our little healing friends?”

It’s an appealing prospect. Energized by the suggestion of direct action, the team starts really looking at their body of intelligence. The discussion gradually veers from intelligence collection by fire to a decapitation strike – there’s certainly enough evidence that Shotkin and his hirstute hatchetman are central to whatever is wrong in Radomsko.


It looks like it’s time for Ellis’ newly-acquired custom specialty to get a workout!

Battle Planner (Command)

Roll Command when you spend a shift or more planning your unit’s actions in an upcoming combat. You get a +1 modifier for each of the following factors that is decisively in your team’s favor, and a -1 modifier (or greater, at the referee’s discretion) for each one that’s decisively stacked against your team: numbers, troop quality, equipment, terrain, weather, intelligence, surprise. During the planned combat and while generally following your plan, each member of your unit may completely re-roll a number of their own rolls equal to the number of successes you received on your Command roll.

(Subsequent play determined that this may be a bit too powerful, so we’ll likely tweak it before Ellis uses it again. But this was the version that was in play for the following fight.)


After a lot of discussion and math and sand-table work, the team has a plan that everyone can live with (and hopefully can survive). They’ll split into two groups for this.

The infiltration element will consist of Ellis, Pettimore, Miko, Cat, and (after much debate about where to risk the medics and the one trained scientist) Erick. They will attempt a covert penetration of the marauders’ apparent HQ in the former Radomsko Regional Museum. Their objectives are to secure any additional intelligence, to rescue any prisoners or hostages, and to neutralize Shotkin and Rasputin.

The ambush element is Betsy, Cowboy, Octavia (with Comrade, of course), and Ortiz. They’ll take the team’s UAZ-469, with the recently-captured SPG-9 replacing its usual M2HB, into the heart of Radomsko. Ellis is confident he can predict the least-time route that a QRF from the nearest marauder outpost (the bank that Ellis previously surveilled) will use to reinforce the museum, so the ambush team will set up on that route and discourage any help from coming. If the infiltration team needs fire support, Cat and Cowboy will coordinate to use the SPG-9 in indirect fire mode.

The team will travel together to the east side of Radomsko, using the PTS-M for this one mission before turning it over to Kamiensk’s citizens. They’ll cache the amphibious carrier in the nature preserve east of the city.

Hernandez and Bell will remain in Kamieksk as the team’s designated survivors, and to provide some heavy weapons support if the village comes under counterattack. They’ll have Comms’ APU powered up so the BTR-80K’s big fixed antenna can serve as a radio relay.

At least, that’s the plan…