Part 1 - Grim Occupation: Killing the Pacifist?! Damn! The GM failed HIS sanity roll.

Seaman Donald Galliford (Keith): Equipment Operator [Grease Monkey, Weird Science, Resourceful]

Pharmacist Mate Lewis Baker (Matt): Corpsman [Egghead, Hardened, Quick Study]

Petty Officer 3^rd Class Eric Jones (Brian): Engineering Aide [Hard Boiled, Cynical – violent, Afraid of dogs]

15 August, 1944: Two months after the D-Day Landings, the Allied and Axis forces battle for control of France. During a vicious counterattack, your Seabee squad was driven south, separating you from the rest of your unit. Out of radio contact range. Low on ammo and fuel and dwindling supplies, you’re one-step ahead of pursing enemy forces, driving a commandeered French Citroen. Donald driver, Lewis front passenger, Eric in backseat.

After days of driving through looming forest, muddy bogs and rolling fields, the seemingly ever extending countryside roads finally reaches a wide basin. Miles away, an imposing and towering hill with a town on top.

Lewis and Eric hear the increasing whine of an airplane engine but only Lewis is able to see the plane in a dive headed toward them. Enough warning for Donald [Hard Drive] to steer off the road just as two lines of 50 cal bullets stitch the road. Only then does Eric recognize the American P-47 in a climbing turn for another strafing run. Stopping short of the trees, they bailout. Donald having parked close enough to the trees for cover; the plane only getting a last-second glimpse and thus another miss. As the fighter climbs again, it turns north. Donald correctly surmises, “This far south? No drop-tanks? He must be low on fuel and returning home.”

Back on the road, they continue south. Soon, Lewis [Hard Spot] calls a halt, “There’s a German armored car stopped ahead!” Parking near the trees, they inch forward, wary of the potential threat, given their low ammo. The car angled on the road, smoke rising from its hood, visible holes in the doors, flat tire. And a head occasionally coming into view; the man working on something in the backseat. Close enough to recognize a British uniform. With guns readied, Eric calls out, “Show yourself. Hands first. Both.”

And that’s when the Brit pauses in his actions to reveal himself, “He’s hurt. Bad. Needs help. A doctor.” Lewis answers the call to rush forward with his corpsman kit while Donald questions the Brit. The obvious wool cap and shoulder insignia of the British 6^th Airborne Division, “You’re a paratrooper?” The tall, fair haired Brit hesitant to answer as he seems more concerned for the civilian in the back of the car. Shell shock? Now obvious the P-47 strafed them first. And scored hits.

Donald barely able to get answers from the Brit, “Corporal Winston.” Meanwhile, Lewis patches the near unconscious civilian. Healed enough to rouse him, “Thought we were goners. Gregory Evans. I escaped a prison camp days east. Stole this idling armored car. Found Winston there hiding in the brush just yesterday. We’re trying to get back to the Allied lines but Germans everywhere.” Asked what unit he’s from, Gregory seems hesitant, “I was with an advance team. I’ve got info vital to the war effort. You must help me get back.” His words weakening as he collapses, exhausted.

They gather what they can. A German MP40 on the back floorboard, a map in the glovebox, and 3-gallons of gas Donald siphons into their Citroen. Using a rubber hose cut from the destroyed engine. With Lewis tending his patient in the backseat, Donald driving and Eric shotgun, Winston stands on the sideboard. “We need to get off the road. Maybe find a doctor in the town ahead. If not a table where I can properly treat Gregory.”

No binoculars to scan the town from afar. Climbing the hill, Donald stops short of the town entrance. A 10ft wall lined with broken glass and barbed-wire surrounds the town. Steep cliffs all around. An empty watchtower to the right behind the wall. An empty guard-shack with a wooden bar stretched across the gated entrance; road spikes under the bar. An Axis swastika and other propaganda hang from the wooden bar. Donald notices footprints exiting the town, angling toward the slope.

Cautiously, Donald approaches the guard-shack as Lewis and Eric checkout the tracks. Donald rips off the swastika and stomps it before entering the shack where he finds a crank to lower the spikes and raise the bar. Eric is the first to see the German body below the road along the cliff. Dead; face down. No bullet wounds in the back but shock when they roll him over and find claw marks across his chest and face. “Bears? Wolves?”

They drive thru the gate into the town square, expecting an ambush or at least resistance. Silence. No Germans. Not even locals emerging to greet their rescuers. Only the buzz of flies gathering around a statue in the middle of the square. Shops line the square but they need Winston to translate the French names, “Bakery, Post Office, Town Hall, General Store.” But most noticeable is the barbed-wire stretched around 3 large tents. An air-raid siren mounted at the eastern entrance to the wired area. Leaving Winston to tend Gregory in the car, the Seabees advance.

They enter the fenced area and northern tent where they find cots and footlockers. Clothing and personal items such as family pictures. To imply they could be back any minute. Eric finds an MP40 submachine gun while Lewis finds a journal written in German, “A sergeant Becker talks about their 4-year occupation. Scoffs at the SS claiming the comfort of the keep while the soldiers sleep out here in the cold bunks. Mentions a lookout in the tower and a private Peter who is fraternizing with the locals; especially a pretty Anna. Last entries mention strange noises and horrific screams coming from the keep. Even his own troops are getting restless at the sounds.”

And that’s when Donald catches a glimpse of a shadow outside. Man size. Clatter like a dog’s nails across the stone floor. A flapping sound. He rushes out to spy the source but the tall tents block most of his view. Whatever it was, long gone. The southern tent proves to be supplies. What’s left. Many torn and discarded ration boxes, empty jerry cans and 55-gallon drums. But one drum mostly full. “Enough petrol to fill 3 cans. And 4 days of rations.” The remaining larger tent proves to be more cots. 2 dozen soldiers total.

They exit the fenced area to check out the statue. Stone. Its head knocked off. Scratches on the shoulders. Pigeon poop down the back. VERY shitty pigeons! Donald unable to interpret the French plaque. And that’s when they see movement to the south. 

A tall German soldier casually walking south between the housing blocks holding a flower in one hand and platter in the other. A strap diagonal across his back. Somehow they not spotted. They creep closer with weapons ready. Puzzled at who he is talking to in French and German, “Guten morgen Fräulein. Comment ça va aujourd'hui?”

No one else in sight yet he continues to greet people. Donald aiming his rifle to give Eric cover to advance. The soldier just turning to notice Eric and begins to offer the flower, “Guten morgen….gaaa.” Eric’s straight-razor slicing his throat and carotid artery. The wilted flower falling to the streets; the platter of moldy food scattering everywhere. A feminine scream somewhere in the housing area. Eric scans the area before calling Lewis to help hide the body, “Don’t want other soldiers finding him to suggest our presence.” As Lewis helps drag the body, he notices a puffy puncture wound on the neck oozing green fluid.

They cautiously search south along the street listening for more noises. As Donald rounds the corner a shot rings out, chipping the stone above his head. He ducks back into the street, pulls out a mirror, and drops prone to spy around the corner. Another shot that ricochets inches from the mirror. But luck to see the muzzle flash from the church tower. “Didn’t that journal say something about a tower lookout?”

They sneak into the Central Housing Block to get closer to the church so Donald can dash across the open courtyard; Eric and Lewis to give distracting fire from different houses. Knowing at this steep angle, they haven’t a chance of hitting the sniper. But neither does he have the angle to shoot Donald. “One, two, …” Donald quickly reaches the church wall as the others fire. But the church doors locked. Thought to use a grenade but realization the doors hard, thick oak. So, Donald ops for a stained-glass window. A crate to give him perch. He’s in and removes the bar across the front door. More gun fire makes him think his allies are continuing to give cover. So, he turns to climb the stairs of the attached tower.

Little does he know…Eric fails to hear the shuffle behind him. Just as he shifts to shot again, [Bonus Brawl – 000, 80] claws rake the window frame where he once peered. [Sanity loss] Gasp as Eric turns to confront a horrific winged beast that swings another claw [hit for 1d4+1d6 = 1+1; really?]. Lewis holding the trigger down on his MP40 submachine gun…the full clip of 32 rounds. Given his inexperience with the SMG, most shots are sprayed. The few that hit…part of the lead slugs break on the thick hide [armor-3].

Lewis realizes something is wrong when he hears the long burst of fire. He comes running. Only to freeze at the sight of the beast. Surprisingly, outnumbered, the beast climbs thru the window to escape. Eric can only stand stunned. Lewis ekes out a hysterical laugh as he shoots. Also seeing his bullets partially ricochet. A trail of green goo suggests it wounded.

Meanwhile, Donald cautiously climbs the stairs expecting the sniper to open fire any moment. But the trap door above closed. A thought. Donald reaches out and grabs the dangling rope and gives it a rhythmic tug. “Dong, Dong!” The church bell echoing throughout the town. Screams from above. With rifle readied, Donald opens the trap door and spots the sniper with both hands clasp over his ears while screaming in pain. A shot then bayonet charge has the sniper tumbling out of the 60 ft bell tower. 2 seconds later, “SPLAT!” Donald leans out the opening, “Got him!”

And that’s when Donald notices a huge…(condor?) flying over the northern wall heading toward the castle keep. A human figure dangling beneath it. [Sanity check] Realization that its Gregory’s screaming voice. A gulp when he sees a 2^nd condor join the other at the keep before descending over a wall. Panic when he realizes he hasn’t heard or seen his allies. He rushes down the stairs, meeting Eric and Lewis at the church doors. “You won’t believe what I just saw.”

The three of them talking over each other. “Two of them?!” Eric exclaiming, “Bullshit. I didn’t sign up for this. 8 bullets left. My full clip barely grazed the thing.” They head back to the Citroen they left near the north gate. A hysterical Winston running toward them, “It took Gregory. I’d heard rumors.” His German accent slipping out; Eric only now noticing the bullet holes in his uniform shirt. Winston confessing, “I’m a German deserter. Names Herman. Herman Weber. I found this paratrooper already dead and took his uniform. There were rumors of a German officer gaining the Führer’s notice per his occult dealings. Experiments within a French town. Yes, yes, we MUST leave.”

Donald trying to rally the troops, ”Fascists! We can’t let them get away with this. Besides, it took Gregory.” Lewis joining the cause. Eric disarming Herman, slapping him around in the process. “Fine! I’ll tag along with Herman as our mule and point-man when the time comes.” Donald remembering the sniper, “His rifle!” Back to the church where they gather the Karabiner 98 kurtz and a full box of its 8mm ammo. Along with boxes of rations. Lewis pausing to inspect the splat body, “Puffy wound on his neck leaking green fluid. Another experiment?”

Donald rationalizing, “There has to be history about this town. Let’s check church records before storming the castle.” [Hard Spot Hidden] Locked away in a hidden compartment within the priest’s desk, they find an old letter. Herman having to translate the French, “800 years ago. Recorded by the lord of Cauzerte’s servant. ‘It came during the dark of the moon, in the dead of night. The lord of Cauzerte made a pack with the devil or something evil. The servant overheard malevolent plotting that turned his blood cold. A call to rally the townfolk against the evil lord who was slaughtered. The book the lord kept to record the traveler’s teachings was cast to the fire. Only I, and three others, saw that the book survived the lashing tongues of the flames. And that is why it must remain hidden.’ ”

“Let’s find the book. And then we can leave. And what better place to hide it than inside that statue in the town square.” The name plate ripped off but no cavity behind it. Sledgehammers and a pile of rubble but still no book. “Maybe there’s more records in the town hall.” Up the steps to the double-doors. Donald swings them wide and boldly enters as if king returning from a quest. A reception area and desk where they find a listing of townfolk and their address. “Didn’t that German’s journal mention a local girl, Anna Beaumont? Here she is…East block #223. SHE is the receptionist.”

They continue to search. Ransacked offices and town meeting room. Up the stairs to a Council Meeting area. Nothing but a key found in the storeroom. More stairs up to a locked door…that the key fits. Shelves after shelves of town records. [Hard Spot] Lewis finds an old architect binder that includes a 700-year-old renovation diagram of the castle keep. [Hard Spot] Eric finds a bookcase that slides forward to reveal a dusty chamber. A round pedestal topped with an empty rectangular frame that once held a book. Blowing the dust aside: an etched pentagram with an eye carved in its center. They notice boot prints in the dust, “German heels. They found the book.”

“Maybe Anna was the girl that screamed. Let’s find her.” Soon they stand in front of a peeling yellow-painted house. Listening. The scrap of wood. Eric busts the door open and quickly enters, followed by the others with Herman in tow. A dusty, unused Livingroom. But a glass of water on the kitchen table; the trail of water still receding from the rim. Recently used. Lewis checks the bedroom and looks under the bed. A rope dangles from a slat. Pushing the bed aside, they open a trapdoor. [The rope pulled the door back over the closed trap door.]

Their flashlight reveals a dirt-floor basement that stretches beyond the light. Donald jumps down…and is confronted by a disheveled young woman wielding a letter-opener. Cursing in French. “Herman, what is she saying?” Go away. Leave. “Tell her we’re here to help. What can she tell us about the Germans and the keep?” Resistance, spit, and repeated cursing. Till Eric hops down with his knife displayed to intimidate her. Instead, recognizing the murderer, she lunges with her opener. Donald restrains her. Herman interpreting, “She saw you kill that young defenseless German. Private Peter visited her regularly offering food and flowers.”

Eric drops his knife and climbs out. Leaving Donald to calm her and hopefully gain her trust. Long minutes before she opens up.

"The SS general grew wild and stormed the town hall, demanding to see the records. He demanded to know where they had hidden it. Executed council members till he learned the hiding place. I begged them to stop, I told them that it had been locked away for a reason, but he had me dragged off too. Thankfully, Peter saved me.

Soon after, people began disappearing, only a few at first, but soon entire homes were emptied in just a night. Then this beast appeared...I hear it stalking the rooftops at night. Soon, even the regular German soldiers joined the remaining people to storm the keep. Only one man returned... I hear him walking around sometimes. It sounds like my friend Peter; it looks like him too. But he's changed. They did something to him. Please...if you are leaving, take me away from this horrible place."

Next Session Conclusion: https://rigglew4.blogspot.com/2020/07/e2-grim-occupation-conclusion-die-you.html