Tag Archives: campaign log

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.”

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…

Leks Takes a Walk (05-06 October 2000)

[After the Radomsko reconnaissance mission, Pettimore had some questions and needed to enlist Leks’ help in obtaining answers. The following is the lightly-edited transcript of the chat thread in which we played out that scene, posted with the permission of both players. Unattributed lines are mine.

As a reminder, Leks’ player also runs Erick, and Pettimore’s player also runs Alexei.]


Leks is minding his own business somewhere in Ponikla on the night of October 5 when one of the railyard teenagers comes up to him. “Hey, Leks? Alexei says there’s someone on the radio for you.”

Leks: That gets his attention. The idea of having working radio again is a simple pleasure, one he didn’t think would come back after the razing of most of this part of Europe. He trots over at the direction of the teen, and heads to the radio room.

Leks: “This is Forest Brother, over?”

Pettimore: “Copy, Forest Brother. This is Bearkiller, over.”

Leks: Concern seeps through in his voice, “Receiving you. Is all well?”

Pettimore: “Up in the air, Forest Brother. Need to touch base with the Pack Alpha, over.”

(As a GM aside, Pettimore – you don’t know the exact borders of Bracia Wilków territory but you know you’re about 50km straight-line or 60km road-distance from the village where they took you. That’s about 40km south of Ponikla.)

Leks: “THE pack, ya?” pausing for the mental calculations on that distance and how long it might take to traverse it. “I can move in that direction on command. Might be… 24 to 36 hours?”

Pettimore: “24 to 36, copy. We might have unfriendlies with…similar tendencies. One in particular.”

Leks: Pettimore knows Leks. He can almost HEAR the grin over the silent radio. “Copy. Will check in ASAP, Usual intervals, until we get ahold of you. Copy?”

Leks gears up and heads out. As he’s departing the village, Stanislaw falls in beside him. The teenager shrugs. “You’re helping John,” he says.

(He’ll follow along unless Leks directly orders him to stay behind.)

Leks: Leks will grunt his acceptance, knowing that he can likely keep up without a problem. Packing for 3 days, just in case.

The weather is cool, humid, hinting at a return of the rain that plagued September’s harvest, but the low-hanging clouds refuse to open up. The duo makes good time, heading south-southwest and skirting Opoczno. They’re moving parallel to a one-lane gravel road through increasingly rugged terrain, heading into the Bracia Wilkow’s hill country, when Leks gets that not alone feeling. Stanislaw apparently feels it too – he leaves his rifle alone, but he lays an arrow across his bow.

Leks: Leks motions for calm. He’ll angle them off the road’s edge, into the cover of some nearby wooded area, and stop. Weapon slung African style, which he can pull off with a LMG only because of his size. He crosses his arms, takes a drink from his canteen, and rummages around for a snack. “They know we’re here. They can contact us as they wish.”

Stanislaw considers that. “If you’re sure it’s them.” He eases the arrow back into his quiver.

Leks: Leks is, but he’ll still his senses, take in a deep breath, almost wishing he could get scent.

There’s a low whistle from a clump of scrub about forty meters out. A few seconds pass before a figure stands up. It’s a woman – hard to tell age under the greasepaint striping her face, but she’s probably of an age with Leks and Stanislaw (who are only a few years apart). She’s a stocky blonde, hair back in a thick braid, wearing rugged civilian attire under a Soviet fatigue jacket in the pattern that was once exclusive to airborne troops. She raises her rifle – something old and bolt-action – over her head and waves it over her head before moving in.

Leks catches motion out of the corner of his eye and turns to see a second woman, similarly geared, approaching from a little farther out.

As they get closer, it becomes apparent that they’re similar enough in appearance to be related, somehow. Both have heterochromatic eyes. And both appear to be wearing wolf-skin capes or cloaks as a mid-layer under the jackets.

Leks: Leks follows the motion, spreading his legs a bit further apart to hopefully show a relaxed posture. “Thank you for allowing us to contact you. I come on the word of Pettimore, Bearkiller.”

The woman who first drew your attention steps in and extends a hand. “I’m Alicja. We know you, Forest Brother. You’re welcome in our lands Who’s your cub?”

The other woman nods. “Zofia,” she introduces herself. Her voice is a painful rasp, barely intelligible. Looking closer, Leks can see a well-healed scar from a wound that, by all rights, should have torn out her trachea and carotid.

Leks: Leks motions to Stanislaw. “Stanislaw. Friend of Pettimore,” he grins, clapping him on the shoulder, “Good kid.”

Introductions are made. Stanislaw meets their eyes, shakes, gets nods of approval for his grip. They’re clearly reclassifying him as an adult. “We thought Bearkiller went west,” Alicja says. “What’s happened?”

Leks: Leks snaps right back into NCO mode, and relays just the facts about the intel that he received from Pettimore. No coloration, no opinions, but it ought to be readily apparent from his eyes that he shares Pettimore’s suspicians about their Rasputin figure. “In the end, we seek advice. Even aid, if it would serve your cause as well. This is… clearly an usual figure.”

The women exchange looks. “Go with Zofia,” Alicja says. “I’ll call for Filip.”

Zofia slings her rifle and gestures for Leks and Stanislaw to follow her in a general westerly direction. Alicja starts moving off to the southeast.

Leks: Leks nods and falls into stride.

Zofia leads the men over the crest of a hill a few hundred meters away. On the opposite slope is an abandoned farmstead. “Safehouse,” Zofia grates. She’s clearly been following the conversation without difficulty but has limited remaining verbal capability.

As they’re approaching the farmhouse, a high-pitched howl echoes from somewhere in the direction from which they came. Zofia cocks her head, listening intently. A couple of minutes later, Leks can barely make out an answering howl. Zofia taps her wrist and holds up three fingers. Wibbles her hand to and fro. Adds a fourth finger, wibbles again.

Leks: Leks nods, not wish to engage in any conversation that obviously is a source of frustration for Zofia. He motions Stanislaw into the building, entering first himself, cautiously out of habit.

One corner of her mouth quirks up. “Talk. Ears work fine,” she gets out.

Leks: That’ll get a flush out of Leks. “Out of respect for your injury. Of course, ears are undamaged.” Of course, his idea of small talk is to notice her loadout and comment on it.

The farmhouse is not nearly as trashed inside as its exterior suggests. It’s clearly being maintained – and maintained to look unmaintained. The grimy windows let in enough light to reveal a well-repaired roof, a rudimentary kitchen, a small stock of preserved foods, and a couple of ammo cans. Two of the bedrooms are equipped with heavily-mended but clean bedding. The front room has two chairs, a couch – and a small bookshelf with a dozen or so volumes, mostly a set of hardbacks with colorfully-illustrated covers.

Zofia nods. “Thanks. Being polite… doesn’t hurt as much.” She gestures around, encompassing the food, bedding, tiny library. “Get comfortable. Well in back.”

Leks: Leks will send Stanislaw after some water, and clear off a portion of the table. He brought his own food, lays out a small spread on the table. Cleans with the water, wiping some of the roaddust from his face and hands. After checking his weapon, leaning it against something within easy reach, he’ll munch quietly. “Alicja. Sister?”

Stanislaw takes everyone’s canteens and steps out. He comes back a few minutes later.

Zofia pulls a rag from her gear and wipes off the camo paint. “Little sister. By fifteen minutes.” She grins. “From Kielce.” She gestures to the southeast. “We left when war came. Long bad story. Alicja tells it better.” Another grin, a hand-wave at her throat. “Bracia Wilków found us. Kept us safe. Offered us a place. Dad left. Not his scene, needed to find other family. We stayed. Now Siostry Wiklów!”

She moves to the kitchen, starts opening jars, puts Stanislaw to work with a cutting board. Glances over her shoulder. “You’ve seen Poland. What’s Estonia like?”

Leks: Leks nods grimly at the first part of her story, but does give a very real chuckle at the sisterhood comment. “Estonia,” he murmurs wistfully, “Good place. Not to hot in summer, winters not too cold. Much greenery. So many animals everywhere.” He’ll talk briefly of his adventures where he learned to forage in the woods, always at home there. Then, of course, his face falls, “I have not seen it in… more than 2 years? More now.”

“What’s keeping you here?” Alicja asks from the doorway. She sets down her gear and begins washing up. “You told them?” she asks Zofia. The elder sister rolls her eyes, nods, taps her wrist, and elbows Stanislaw out of the way to check the fire in the small cast-iron stove.

In the interest of moving it along, there’s a montage of food and a few hours off your feet, relaxing with people who aren’t trying to kill you. Eventually, there’s a tread on the front steps. Neither of the sisters reacts. The front door opens and Filip steps in.

He clasps Leks’ hand in greeting. “Forest Brother. It’s good to see you, but I hear you have a problem.” He eyes Stanislaw a little more reservedly. “And what do we call you? Bearkiller’s Apprentice?”

Stanislaw channels Pettimore and holds eye contact. “I guess you call me what I earn, once I earn it.”

Filip raises his eyebrows, processing that, then laughs. “Then earn it and we’ll talk again.” He pours a mug of tea, eases himself into a chair, and prepares to hear out Leks.

Filip and the sisters listen intently. “Bearkiller does have a problem. We can’t go west of the river without causing problems, but I can consult. I assume your only radio that’ll reach him is back in your village.”

Leks: Leks nods. “It is how he contacted me in the first place.”

Leks: “I can double time, make return trip in less than a day”

“If you can forced march, let’s go.” He looks at Stanislaw. “Can you keep up?” It’s delivered in a level tone.

“Probably Stanislaw admits, frowning.

“We’ll get him back,” Alicja interjects. Leks is fairly sure Stanislaw doesn’t consider this a bad outcome.

Leks: Leks nods, stands and retrieves his gear, adjusting straps for a forced march (because chafing is a bitch).

Filip finishes his tea and takes a minute to contribute to cleanup. When he’s done, he shoulders his small pack and picks up his rifle. As the two of you step outside, he comments, “This would be easier if you took the wolf.”

Leks: Leks scrunches his face as they move out. “I would lie to say that it is not incredibly tempting. But.. the people. I have a duty to Ponikla. To protect them. It was never their war.”

“I can respect that. When you’re ready, we’ll be here. If you’re never ready, I can live with that, too. You’re still doing good work there.”

Leks: You honor me. There will always be a resistance.”

The trip back is… something of a blur. Afterward, Leks will have difficulty recalling specifics. A few things stand out. Eating on the run, something small and fresh, the taste of blood and organ meat. Taking a detour without knowing why, and only recognizing the smell of an Opoczno militia patrol after he sees them. Drinking from a stream dappled by faint light from the waxing gibbous moon. He’s exhausted by the time he leads Filip past Ponikla’s sentries, sending one of them to wake up Alexei.


In Kamiensk, Pettimore awakens from a light sleep as Bell pulls aside the hanging bedsheet that bounds off his temporary quarters in the warehouse. “Sergeant, there’s a radio call for you.”

Pettimore: “Go for Bearkiller.”

In Ponikla, Filip takes the mic from Alexei. “Bearkiller, this is… Alpha. I understand you have a problem, over.”

Pettimore: “Good to hear your voice, Alpha. Could use your input.” Pettimore describes Rasputin in detail, including his apparent ability to track by scent.

Filip gives Leks a long look, then turns to Alexei. “This isn’t for your ears,” he advises the young East German.

He waits for Alexei to leave, then turns back to the radio. “He isn’t one of mine. Is he wearing a skin? Bear, wolf, boar, anything else? It would need to be whole, or mostly so.”

Pettimore: Alexei will look slightly disappointed, but nod and leave. “Please be careful with the equipment…sir.” No sarcasm. Something about Filip seems to command respect.

Pettimore: “No, no skin on him or his boss. I saw him catch our scent though my scope, though. Hell, we don’t stink THAT bad.”

“If he isn’t wearing a skin, he’s not one of us.” The reply is immediate and certain. “Which I know is no help with your problem.” In Ponikla, he glances at Leks, as if including the Estonian in “us.”

After a pause, he continues. “There are things older than us coming back into the world. His… ‘boss,’ this Shotkin. Is there anything uncanny about him?”

Pettimore: (describes the scene with the three teenagers) “They were almost, well, catatonic. Like they weren’t even there. I’ve seen warlords before, Alpha. This was more than that. This was like puppetry.”

There’s a frustrated growl over the radio. “This feels like a face I should know, but the fog is heavy on old memories. What I do know is this: we don’t go west of the river. That’s part of the agreement we have with the Heart of the Forest.” The capitalization is audible. “The Heart keeps to his own lands, too, but he’s said other old powers are coming back in the area you’re traveling. Puppeteers… that fits.”

Pettimore: “Any intel you can share will help, Alpha. We’ll do the rest. Also figured you could use the warning.”

Leks sees Filip close his eyes for a long moment. His brow furrows, and he slowly leans forward and taps his forehead on the radio casing. “Your Shotkin. If he looks human, he is human, but touched by whatever is puppeting him. That could be many things, but their hand on him should follow a pattern. He’ll have boons that help him do whatever it wants him to do. If he’s ruling that city, his boons are a ruler’s. Your Rasputin… his boons are a hunter’s. Or a guard hound’s. Puppeteers don’t give boons lightly. It costs them, pains them. So it’s an investment in shaping a place or a future they want.”

“One thing we do have in common with them.” He looks at Leks again. “Boons are easier if the person receiving them already fits the intent. It’s hard to make a stag into a wolf. So your Rasputin was already a hunter. Your Shotkin was already a warlord. Their Puppeteer makes them more.”

“The Heart doesn’t like them but he has something in common with them, too. They understand human hearts. They don’t understand human hands. We understand but it’s easier for us to live simply. They? They don’t understand technology, cities, governments. They can observe effects and manipulate human experts but these things are alien to them.”

Pettimore: “So there’s…SOMETHING else running the show. Figures. Always the proverbial man behind the curtain.”

Pettimore: Pettimore will also share whatever info they have on Shotkin, his men, setup, armaments, etc.

“Your associate, Shield of Lies? He probably has good instincts in that matter.”

Pettimore: “Yeah, he does.” chuckle

There’s a malevolent chuckle. “If Shotkin comes for us, he’ll have to go through the Heart. The screaming will warn us.”

Pettimore: “Alpha, he tips his arrows with something. Not sure what it is, but it can’t be good.”

“No way for me to tell without smelling it, and maybe not then, but no one coats arrows with anything good.”

Pettimore: “I get the feeling that whatever is pulling his strings won’t stop here. He’s building a power base, that’s for certain. Be careful.”

“You too, Bearkiller. Good hunting.”

Pettimore: “Forest Brother, do me a favor. Warn my …heck, apprentice, I guess, about these guys, okay? He’s filling in for me as far as hunting goes, and…well, you know.”

Leks: Leks nods to Filip. To be passed along. “I protect this village.”

Pettimore: “Glad you’re there, my friend. Thanks, gents. Good luck. Bearkiller out.”

Filip will accept hospitality if offered. He’ll sleep for a shift, then head out in the morning.

Stanislaw shows up the next morning, looking exhausted, pleased, and oddly disinclined to discuss where he’s been.

Kamiensk Downtime and Radomsko Reconnaissance (02-05 October 2000)

We’re at another point in the campaign where some extended recon is necessary to plan the team’s next move. The sneakier PCs will head back down to Radomsko to see if they can learn a bit more about Shotkin’s marauders. The rest of the team will stay in Kamiensk to pull maintenance, work on improving local conditions, and provide additional security in case anything untoward happens.


For the Kamiensk element, I’ll handle downtime according to the usual rules. My players have given me general agendas, which I’ll resolve offscreen. For the Radomsko recon team, I’ll use the same abstract system I used for the activities before the Battle of Radom, with some tweaks to account for lessons learned:

The marauders have an Alert stat ranging from 0 to 5, representing how aggressively they are hunting suspected infiltrators/saboteurs. 0 is absolute complacency; 5 is full counterinsurgency. They’re currently at a 3 because of their awareness of imminent conflict with the 124th Motor Rifle Division.

Each shift of reconnaissance first involves a Recon check for the team to avoid notice, using the worst stealth-focused Recon in the team (Infiltrator applies; equipment applies at the lowest effective bonus across the team). This is opposed by a Recon roll for the enemy forces. If the PCs have more net successes, Alert stays the same. If the PCs and enemies have equal successes, Alert stays the same but each PC takes 1 Stress from a close call. If the enemies have more net successes, Alert increases by 1 per success and one randomly-selected PC receives one long-range attack as they’re spotted. If Alert reaches 5, the enemy mobilizes to hunt down the recon team and the PCs are forced to withdraw.

The PCs’ stealth also gets a -1 penalty on clear, sunny days; a +1 bonus on rainy days (+2 for exceptionally heavy precipitation); and a +2 bonus at night.

After seeing if the team is detected, I’ll then make a second skill check to determine what the team learns from that shift’s observation. I’ll randomly select a PC who’s participating in the mission, then roll one of their skills that’s appropriate to the narrative (defaulting to Recon if nothing else applies). Each success will give them one of the following effects:

  • general information on the contents of a new city hex
  • a key detail of the marauder’s strength, equipment, or activities
  • the location or a key detail of a major landmark in the city
  • useful and relevant salvage

PCs do not recover Stress (upper-case) during a recon operation because of the constant stress (lower-case) of conducting close reconnaissance in enemy territory.

PC capabilities relevant to this op are:

Ellis

Recon A+C (fatigues; forensics kit; Investigator)
Command B+B (Tactician)
Persuasion B+B (Interrogator, Linguist)

Miko

Recon A+C (fatigues; ghillie suit; Infiltrator; Scout)
Survival A+B (Scrounger)

Cat

Recon A+B (fatigues; ghillie suit; Infiltrator; Scout)
Survival A+C (Navigator)

Pettimore

Recon B+C (fatigues; ghillie suit; Scout)
Survival B+C (Hunter)


October 2

Weather: cloudy

Alert: 3

The recon team spends the day resting up and preparing for their operation. Miko makes a ghillie suit for Ellis. Cat makes one for Ortiz, who will be going along to stay at the forward camp with the UAZ-469 and serve as the team’s getaway driver.

Pettimore and Erick take a couple of the younger, fitter Kamiensk residents and go hunting. They return with a half-dozen game birds and two small deer. The Marine spends the rest of his evening cleaning his gear and helping with weapon maintenance, while the chaplain’s assistant helps out Father Miroslav with evening lessons for the village’s children.

Ellis spends the day documenting his observations so far, going back over the video he shot in Radomsko, and interviewing select residents to see if he can extract any more useful intel.

Octavia, Betsy, and Cowboy set up an impromptu armorer’s workshop and try to deal with the accelerated entropy that affected some people’s equipment. Most of a day’s work takes care of everything that the recon element will be bringing with them. Octavia tags out to check on the baby she delivered yesterday and the kid’s mother, while Betsy and Cowboy continue working on their own equipment. [By the end of this process, they’ll collectively have enough Tech successes to bring everyone’s equipment up to full Reliability.]


October 3

Weather: partly cloudy

Alert: 3

The recon team leaves before dawn, taking their time getting into position outside Radomsko. Ellis identified a few good hide sites on his last trip, and the group gives the marauders’ defensive line a wide berth [a full shift for undetected travel; with this group and some good planning, navigation and stealth are easy]. They set up their base camp in an abandoned garage south of the city, pulling the UAZ-469 into one of the bays. Once that’s done, Ortiz keeps watch while the four PCs catch some rest and collect local vegetation for their ghillie suits.

After sunset, Ellis, Pettimore, Cat, and Miko sneak into Radomsko’s outskirts. They’re fresh and most of the marauders are still sitting on a defensive line on the other side of the city, so there’s little chance of detection. In a long probe of the city’s outskirts, they’re able to get a general survey of four hexes:

  • Hex 19 is undeveloped. Radomsko was expanding in that direction before the war, but the terrain was in the process of being cleared. Vegetation is now reclaiming the torn-up earth and half-poured foundations. Heavy construction equipment stands abandoned and rusting, and some of it shows signs that tank crews used it for gunnery practice.
  • Hex 16 was residential. The homes here are larger than in the city center, spaced more widely and still surrounded by forest that, to Pettimore’s eye, shows signs of deliberate reforestation in the prewar years. This was where Radomsko’s upper crust – Party officials and their business associates – lived. Now it’s mostly uninhabited, save for a couple of farm collectives around a cluster of orchards.
  • Hex 12 was, and remains, farmland. Several of the aforementioned collectives are here. The team does observe a marauder patrol moving through the area, but they appear to be checking on harvest progress and aren’t particularly alert for PC-type trouble.
  • Hex 7 was the city’s public works complex: water treatment plant, coal-fired power plant, telephone exchange, landfill, and a few other industrial facilities all were located here. All of the utilities are heavily damaged, probably beyond restoration with local resources.

Meanwhile, in Kamiensk, the whole team pitches in for a shift of assisting with the harvest. Once that’s done, Cowboy and Betsy pull maintenance on Industrial Light and Mayhem (the team’s MAN KAT1 8×8 heavy truck), Comms (the BTR-70K), and Thing One (the BMW K75S touring motorcycle). They then turn their attention to the recently-recovered PTS-M, bringing it up to what they consider acceptable condition. Octavia and Erick spend the balance of their time on medical aid and teaching.

[For each day that the team averages one shift per person on agriculture, they will be able to share in Kamiensk’s harvest. Mechanically, this will give them a food share sufficient to feed themselves without consuming any of the rations they brought with them.]


October 4

Weather: partly cloudy

Alert: 3

In Kamiensk, the team continues assisting with the harvest. Around that work, Cowboy and Octavia crank up the still and start feeding it the inedible material for fuel production. After a while, Octavia leaves Cowboy to it. One of the village teenagers, Sylwia Bosko, demonstrated some medical aptitude yesterday, and Octavia is determined to train up a midwife for the impending baby boom.

Betsy and Erick grab a work crew from those who can be spared from the fields. It’s past time to build some reinforced fighting positions to cover the key approaches to the village. They start on the south side.

In Radomsko, Ellis wants another look at the city center. He, Pettimore, Miko, and Cat carefully ease in toward the government complex. Their ingress is uncontested. As they near the city center, they observe a large group of marauders breaking up and moving out in different directions. Ellis reasons that Shotkin pulled in his defensive line when the expected punitive attack from the 124th MRD didn’t materialize, and now the mutineers are dispersing back to their territories.

Pettimore catches sight of a UAZ pulling away, heading northeast at a leisurely pace. The scout-sniper takes point, leading the recon team along the edge of the government center and into Hex 14. This area was once Radomsko’s entertainment and cultural district. The team trails the vehicle past the opera house, the shattered remains of the cinema, the hockey arena, and the nightclub district before it pulls into the rear loading dock area of the Regional Museum.

Cat points to a shattered church a couple hundred meters to the north. “Betcha no one’s going in there these days.” Her intuition is correct. The building’s interior condition is only slightly better than its exterior appearance, but as far as the team can tell without Betsy’s practiced eye, it should hold together. More importantly, its south-facing upper sections provide an excellent view of the museum.

After a day’s worth of observation, it’s evident that the Regional Museum is Shotkin’s headquarters and residence. He makes several appearances, receiving and dispatching messengers and checking in with his men. About fifteen marauders seem to be based at the compound. In addition to the UAZ, which is fitted with a heavy machine gun, there’s also a BMP-3 parked in the courtyard. It’s likely that this is the “tank” which was reported in the marauders’ hands – not truly an MBT, but a potentially lethal problem (though one that’s within the team’s capabilities to deal with if they plan their fight well).

A few hours after sunset, Big Rasputin makes an appearance. He eases out onto the museum’s front steps, pauses between the sconces in which torches flicker, and again sniffs the air. Through Thoughts and Prayers‘ scope, Pettimore can see the moment when the man’s fire-lit expression changes from disinterest to curiousity to suspicion. Shotkin’s hatchetman gathers up a fireteam of marauders with a gesture and begins loping north toward the church. “We’re leaving. Now,” Pettimore states. The team exits the building and moves another hundred meters away, into the remains of a collection of upscale shops. From their new location, they can see Big Rasputin and his troops investigating their former hiding spot [-1 Stress to all team members].


October 5

Weather: cloudy

Alert: 3

In Kamiensk, the harvest goes on. Octavia and Cowboy continue fuel production. Cowboy takes some time off to forage around the village’s outskirts and comes back with an armful of wild roses, which she sets out to dry in a corner of the warehouse that the team is using as a temporary base. Octavia continues her tutelage of Sylwia.

At Father Miroslav’s request, Erick spends the afternoon putting his social work degree to use. There are several simmering issues in the village, and not all of them are suited to the priest’s temperament or position of authority. As an outsider – and a much younger outsider, at that – Erick is a source of guidance that some people will heed even if they weren’t listening to Father Miroslav.

With construction under way on fighting positions, Betsy digs into the team’s small stock of office supplies. She spends the day surveying and sketching, doing math, and occasionally chuckling in a way that would be disturbing if anyone overheard her. At dinner, she presents Father Miroslav and the village’s elders with a set of plans for defensive improvements that should be within the local workforce’s capabilities.

Cat, Ellis, Miko, and Pettimore know they need to be cautious, but they also have the proverbial scent of their enemy. They back off, looking for other observation points from which to keep tabs on Shotkin. To the southeast of the cultural district, Hex 18 is a nature preserve. Unmaintained since the bombs fell, it’s now a wild tangle – a good environment for hunters like Pettimore and Cat. The team spends some time scouting ambush sites and fallback routes before moving back into the city proper.

Miko finds another hiding spot about 300 meters south of the museum. The team settles in to observe. Having done his job, the young Pole takes a few minutes to poke around in the abandoned townhouses and comes up with a trio of bootleg VHS tapes. According to the crooked labels, he’s found Polish-subtitled copies of Working Girl, Akira, and Die Hard!

Any celebration is short-lived. Shortly before dusk, Cat spots a fireteam of marauders walking toward the museum with a trio of prisoners: two boys and a girl, all about Miko’s age. They’re dressed raggedly for travel, and one of the marauders is carrying three half-empty rucksacks.

“Glad I didn’t push my luck with the traveling trader routine,” Ellis comments.

“Nah,” Pettimore growls. “They ain’t visiting. They tried to run away.”

As the team watches, Shotkin emerges from the museum, Big Rasputin at his shoulder. The warlord has forsaken his usual mixed military and civilian attire for a dark purple caftan with silver embroidery. Rings bedeck his hands and gold chains weigh down his neck. He smiles broadly at the capture team, spreads his hands in benediction, then turns to the prisoners. As his gaze falls upon him, they sink to their knees in unison. Through their scopes and binoculars, the team can see the teenagers are shivering in the evening chill but devoid of expression.

Shotkin leans down to each prisoner in turn, cups their face in his hands, and whispers something to them. He steps back and glances at Big Rasputin, who pulls one of the boys to his feet and marches him into the museum. Shotkin throws a dismissive gesture to his household troops, who haul the other two teenagers away toward the wing of the museum that serves as their barracks. The patrol who brought in the prisoners glances at one another and leaves, probably returning to their territory.

A half hour passes without further activity. The sun sinks below the broken-toothed western skyline and a moist autumn chill sets in. Ellis shivers, then goes still as something just below the level of conscious awareness touches his instincts. He brings his G3 to his shoulder and leans out the window. The flicker of motion on the ground below registers, and he throws himself back. The broadhead arrow that would have taken him in the neck slashes across his left bicep instead before burying itself in the opposite wall [Alert +1, all PCs -1 Stress, Ellis -2 Hits!]. Through the gloaming, the agent can see more shapes dashing forward.

The team grabs their gear and starts moving. Pettimore pauses on the way out of the room to shove a field dressing into Ellis’ hands. “Don’t leave a blood trail for him,” he spits. Ellis hands the scout-sniper his rifle and begins winding the dressing around his arm as he moves toward the exit. Pettimore gives the arrow a thoughtful look and yanks it out of the plaster, dropping it into his own quiver.

The recon team dashes through the darkened streets. They can hear their pursuers’ footfalls, catch occasional glimpses of them moving from cover to cover. With a flash of insight, Ellis realizes the marauders aren’t holding fire because they can’t see him and his teammates – they’re holding fire because they want captures. Worse, he also realizes what he’s not hearing: any form of spoken communication. [Ellis -1 Stress from a 1 on a pushed Command/Tactician roll].

The pursuit seems to let up as the team pushes into a thicket that marks the boundary of the old nature preserve. They keep moving for another fifteen minutes before pausing to tend to Ellis’ wound. Pettimore and Cat spread out to pull security while Miko helps Ellis clean and re-bind the laceration.

Pettimore shifts uneasily. Something’s nagging at him. He begins spiraling out, crouching every few meters to examine his surroundings. He risks a hand-shielded flicker of a red-lensed flashlight “Son of a bitch,” he breathes.

Cat ghosts over and makes a soft interrogative sound.

Pettimore points to the ground along the game trail that was going to be their egress route. In the soft earth is a set of heavy footprints: immense, four-toed, spread wider than a human’s. The tracks are recent, within the hour, heading into the city. With a greater level of detail than moisture on stair treads, Pettimore and Cat can make out the imprints of short, curved claws.


At this point, everyone’s taken some Stress and Ellis is hurting. More critically, the marauders are at Alert 4. Another bad stealth roll will see them mobilize to hunt down the recon team. The team confers and decides they’re pushed their luck enough. They’ve gotten a good look at Shotkin’s headquarters, including exterior defenses and the garrison’s patterns of life. It’s time to pull back to Kamiensk, share the take with the rest of their associates, and decide on their next move.


TL;DR Intelligence Summary

Shotkin’s HQ is in Hex 14, in the Regional Museum. His “household troops” are Big Rasputin and roughly 15 marauders with a UAZ-469 (mounted heavy machine gun) and a BMP-C. The building appears lightly fortified, with a few vehicle barriers in the street and a sandbagged sniper/machine gun nest in the clock tower on the southeast corner. Both vehicles are parked in the rear of the museum, next to its loading dock. The marauders don’t appear to have sentry posts, but they casually wander around the museum complex.

After dark, candles and oil lamps provide interior illumination, with torches lit on the outside of the building and on the vehicle barriers. Other than weapons and vehicles, there’s no evidence of complex technology in use. Shotkin appears to communicate with his subordinate gangs by way of messenger; there’s also a signal flag halyard atop the the clock tower.

Unlike the bank, there’s no evidence that civilian laborers are employed here. The only non-marauders seen were the three prisoners.

The museum’s immediate surroundings are an overgrown park to the north, abandoned townhouses to the east (the church across the street is a burned-out ruin), a toppled monument to the south, and abandoned shops to the west.

Transfusion (30 September – 01 October 2000)

The radio headset emits a hiss of fading static as Erick picks it up, then goes dead with a pop.

Cat gives him an ashen look. “You heard that?” she asks.

“I heard something,” the chaplain’s assistant confirms. “Do you need a break?”

Cat hesitates. She desperately wants out of the air traffic control tower, but she doesn’t want to leave Erick alone on sentry duty. “No. No, I’ll stay.”

Down in the carcass of the Luftwaffe C-160, Miko is busy looting the aircrew’s survival gear. Cowboy squeezes past the bodies to tear apart the console and splice in the dynamo from the hand-cranked emergency radio. It takes some creative engineering, but she’s able to power up the navigation avionics for a few minutes. She and Pettimore confirm the details of the flight plan that Pettimore found: the aircraft launched from a strip near Bremerhaven with an out-and-back flight profile suggestive of an airdrop about twenty kilometers north of Czestochowa, but it never made it to that waypoint.

As Cat is surveying the surrounding scenery, she catches sight of a lone figure in civilian garb moving toward the terminal. Through her binoculars, she recognizes Ellis and, with Erick on overwatch, goes out to make contact with him. Once the CIA operator is united with the team, he gives them a brief summary of what he saw in the city center and suggests they return to Kamiensk to brief Octavia and the NPCs and to have the doc take a look at Cowboy’s leg.

Pettimore collects the pilot and copilot’s dog tags for later faith services, as he can’t take the remains with him.


The team limps into Kamiensk around 1300. The day is still crisp and clear but clouds on the horizon are preparing to fulfill Hernandez’s promise of rain. Octavia, still bloody and exhaused from delivering a baby, comes out to meet them. She shoves the fatigue aside when she sees Cowboy’s leg.

The accelerated healing that the team has previously enjoyed is still in effect, but upon examining the wound, Octavia notes a patch of aged skin around the injury site. Lives spots, a mole, general texture – something more than the usual weirdness is happening. A fluid sample reveals a thick black sludge in Cowboy’s blood at the injury site. Octavia doesn’t have the equipment to analyze it in detail, but that color of bodily secretions is never good. Ellis volunteers that he’s O-negative and Octavia sets up a transfusion. Over the course of a few hours, the seepage from the wound site returns to normal.

Cat pulls Ellis aside and confides her radio experience, including her recognition of the speaker as someone she knows was KIA during TF Cobalt’s operation. She suggests that the oddities the team has been experiencing all have to do with time – voices from the past, accelerated healing, accelerated entropy. Ellis wonders aloud if the author of Roadside Picnic was on to something, and seems disappointed when Cat doesn’t get the reference.

Pettimore takes the aviators’ dog tags to Father Miroslav and asks him to perform last rites for the Catholic airman, and requests that the tags be buried in the churchyard. The priest is more than glad to do so, and asks Pettimore and Erick to attend him while he performs the ritual. Afterward, Pettimore asks Father Miroslav to take his confession. He’s not Catholic, but the amount of death he’s seen recently is weighing on him. The Pole eyes him and nods. “You’re not Catholic, but I think God will listen. Let’s take a walk.”


Ellis shows the team the video he shot of the meeting at the bank. It takes a while, with too many people clustered around a tiny LCD screen, and with many requests to rewind (and “enhance”). A few threads of observation emerge:

Octavia notes that Comrade is paying very close attention. He’s not growling, but his body language screams “enemy sighted.” The doctor also notes that the body language of the men in the video is very reminiscent of pack predators, and it’s even more pronounced when Shotkin is present. They’re more unified – not being puppeted, but the pack bond seems stronger. Which should not be a thing at all.

Pettimore becomes very interested in the large Rasputin-looking guy. He strains to make out details but he can’t tell if Shotkin’s apparent hatchetman is missing a digit on one of his hands. He also observes that the pairs of men sent out from the bank were messengers or couriers – they were roughly splitting up toward the four points of the compass, traveling with light combat loads and an apparent sense of purpose. He reasons that if the marauders are divided into gangs (or fiefdoms), then each group is likely to have its own headquarters… or fortress.

Betsy assesses the fortification work that the marauders did on the bank. It’s crude but solid, and they started with a robust building. She would not want to try blasting her way in there under fire.

Cowboy notes that the fire truck-turned-gun truck is riding oddly low on its rear suspension. It’s a rescue rig, not the type that would have an onboard water tank, so what’s back there? There’s some speculation that it’s full of gold looted from the bank. Then Ellis glances at Cat. “Ah… Cat, how big was that box that Task Force Cobalt recovered in Lodz?”


Cat flashes back. She didn’t handle the object that TF Cobalt paid in blood to extract from Politechnika Łódzka, but she saw it. It was dull steel, about the size and form factor of a large coffin. Heavy-duty handles welded to it, with rubber-footed rails similar to helicopter skids on the underside. A few telemetry and power ports on one side, but no apparent way to open it. Radiation trefoil stickers on all faces, but no other markings.

Only the Air Force technical crew attached to Task Force Cobalt touched the thing. Everyone else was under orders to stay at least five meters away from it unless specifically requested by the techs.

When Cat saw the techs loading the object into their truck, it looked immensely heavy. These guys were all near special operations levels of fitness themselves, not pencil-necked geeks, and six of them were straining to lift the thing. She’d estimate it at around half a ton. Once they got it up, though, they seemed to be more pushing it than carrying it – it moved weirdly.


Octavia cocks an ear at this. She pulls Cat aside, asks a few probing questions. She comes up with the thing having mass and inertia, but not being subject to gravity. Which is pure physics bullshit, but that seems to be the world in which she’s trapped now.

The immediate conclusion, however, is that whatever and wherever the box is, it’s not in the back of the fire truck now.

The team wibbles for a bit on what to do. There is clearly some bad weirdness happening in Radomsko, but what do they do about it? Do they go after Shotkin himself, try to break his toys, or write off the days spent here and try to divert around the city rather than tangling with a large marauder force?

At the end, they decide they need more information. Ellis, Pettimore, and Miko head back south for another look at what Shotkin has been putting into motion. What they find is about fifty marauders strung out in defensive positions across the city’s north edge. Ellis realizes that Shotkin must be expecting a probe from the 124th Motor Rifle Division after his guys whacked one of the Soviets’ patrols. This presents an opportunity… and the team does still have Katyushka Alekseev in custody…


Captain Sergei Andrejev rolls out of Piotrków Trybunalski with a company of rear-echelon troops turned infantrymen who are no happier than he is about the thunderstorm through which they’re traveling. They have their orders, though, and the marauders who wiped out one of the 124th MRD’s patrols will pay. His review of the ops plan is suddenly interrupted by his lead BTR slamming on its brakes and nearly sliding into a ditch. Looking up, Andrejev sees the BTR nose-to-nose with a UAZ-469 containing two people in piecemeal Polish fatigues. He curses, grabs his radio mic, and orders his men to deploy from their trucks. He stays dry for now – to coordinate, he tells himself – and tells the driver of the trailing HMMWV weapons carrier to swing out in case automatic grenade launcher landscaping is needed.

As his subordinate leaders are acknowledging the orders, an unfamiliar voice comes up on the frequency. Andrejev already expects trouble, so he’s not inclined to trust, but he buys his troops some time to get the other force under their guns. As he watches, a BTR-70K slowly rolls forward, turret ostentatiously traversed to the side. It stops and a man in a GRU major’s uniform hops out, followed by two heavily-armed women.

Andrejev sighs, hooks a finger at his RTO, and moves forward to parley. The major is in surprisingly good spirits, but seems to be waiting for a salute. If this is a trap, Andrejev isn’t falling for it – he learned not to sniper-check the Americans years ago.

The major claims to have intel on marauders around Radomsko. He’s surprisingly well-informed – so much so that Andrejev wonders just who his chain of command has been talking to about the mission he only received last night. Then the major drops his second bombshell: he has a survivor of the missing patrol in custody and he’d like to hand her off to Andrejev.

The captain is feeling distinctly paranoid at this point, but massacring a GRU operations team would look bad on his next officer evaluation. He sends his company medic forward, along with two of his more casual murderers for escort. The medic comes back a few minutes later with the missing Private Alekseev strapped to a litter, which confirms at least some of the major’s story.

The major takes the opportunity to expand on his earlier suggestion of intel. The marauders in Radomsko are more numerous than Andrejev’s intel briefing suggested, and they’re alerted to his expedition. Andrejev is rolling toward an ambush.

Andrejev considers. If this is a marauder ruse, it’s a damned complicated one, and the major does seem to know his stuff. The captain excuses himself, returns to his truck, and calls in the encounter. There’s a few minutes of silence, no doubt while HQ digests his report. Finally, his colonel comes back on the channel. The major and his team are to receive all available aid. As Andrejev’s mission is compromised, he’s to return to the garrison rather than sitting out in the rain burning fuel.

Andrejev squelches back to the major and extends the 124th’s hospitality. The major smiles broadly but declines; he and his team will be operating south of Piotrków Trybunalski for a few more weeks, and they need to get back to their mission now that they’ve delivered their warning and their rescuee. However, could he get contact frequencies for the 124th – just in case he has anything more to pass along?

As Andrejev watches the UAZ and the APC turn around and roll south, he replays the encounter in his mind. The major was the only Soviet uniform he saw, and none of the Poles appeared to speak any Russian. Weird, that – he’s never known the GRU to use that much local talent before. Maybe the major is going native…