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Die Feurigan Felder
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Die Feurigan Felder
Mittelstaedt cursed under his breath, fumbling wearily for a surer grip on his rifle. "Couple of live ones up ahead," he called to the handful of men behind him.
outis- Commander
- Species : Sofa Monster
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Member since : 2010-06-11
Re: Die Feurigan Felder
"Not if I can help it," Schwol muttered, bringing his rifle up to his shoulder, but Kaufmann had already started shouting at them.
"You men! Stop there and throw down your weapons!"
There were two French soldiers, as filthy and charred as the riflemen were, but only one appeared to be armed. A big man with a dangerous look on his face. He looked as if he was about to lift his musket. Just gimme an excuse to blow your brains out, Schwol thought, just like your pals did to Berg.
"Drop it!" Kaufmann bellowed at the big Frenchman.
"You men! Stop there and throw down your weapons!"
There were two French soldiers, as filthy and charred as the riflemen were, but only one appeared to be armed. A big man with a dangerous look on his face. He looked as if he was about to lift his musket. Just gimme an excuse to blow your brains out, Schwol thought, just like your pals did to Berg.
"Drop it!" Kaufmann bellowed at the big Frenchman.
sans nom- Captain
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
They spread out, circling the two Frenchmen as they closed in, but to Mittelstaedt's relief, the big fellow, his musket now hanging at arms' length, showed no signs of resisting. He assumed the younger one would follow suit, but without warning the Frenchman shoved his companion away and bolted -- straight for Mittelstaedt.
The rifleman brought his weapon up instinctively, but he was too startled to react. The part of his mind which was still working braced for the thrust of a bayonet, but the Frenchman was on the ground almost before he'd gone two steps.
Shaken, and suddenly angry, Mittelstaedt pounced upon the man, thrusting the muzzle of his rifle into his back. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he growled.
Brugmann rolled his eyes. "Shoulda let him run. Schwol could use the practice."
The rifleman brought his weapon up instinctively, but he was too startled to react. The part of his mind which was still working braced for the thrust of a bayonet, but the Frenchman was on the ground almost before he'd gone two steps.
Shaken, and suddenly angry, Mittelstaedt pounced upon the man, thrusting the muzzle of his rifle into his back. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he growled.
Brugmann rolled his eyes. "Shoulda let him run. Schwol could use the practice."
outis- Commander
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
"Bastards, the lot of you!" Schwol spat, shoving the big Frenchman onto his knees. It was not even clear whom he was speaking to, but it scarcely mattered.
"Now drop the musket! Schwol, get his bayonet and cartridges." Kaufmann grabbed the frog musket and tossed it to Brugmann before turning back to the big Frenchman. "What's this here? A knife on his belt. I'll take that. Move your arms, dammit! Schwol, give him the message." But by now, the big prisoner seemed to be at least trying to cooperate, stupid though he was. The same could not be said for his companion. "Well go on, Brugmann! Do I have to do everything myself?"
"Now drop the musket! Schwol, get his bayonet and cartridges." Kaufmann grabbed the frog musket and tossed it to Brugmann before turning back to the big Frenchman. "What's this here? A knife on his belt. I'll take that. Move your arms, dammit! Schwol, give him the message." But by now, the big prisoner seemed to be at least trying to cooperate, stupid though he was. The same could not be said for his companion. "Well go on, Brugmann! Do I have to do everything myself?"
sans nom- Captain
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
"Oh, aye, and what the hell am I going to do?" Brugman shot back, brandishing the musket Kaufmann had thrust at him and which had left him without a free hand. Tossing the weapon away in disgust, he grabbed for the younger Frenchman's crossbelt. "Off. Come on. OFF."
"Hey! What? No -- Stay. Stay!" Mittelstaedt cried, jabbing the Frenchman with his rifle as the man struggled to his knees, wailing. And swung at Brugman.
"The hell was that?" Brugmann snorted, and dealt the boy a swift backhand across the face.
"Hey! What? No -- Stay. Stay!" Mittelstaedt cried, jabbing the Frenchman with his rifle as the man struggled to his knees, wailing. And swung at Brugman.
"The hell was that?" Brugmann snorted, and dealt the boy a swift backhand across the face.
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
The big Frenchman was trying to speak his nonsense too. Kaufmann snapped at him. "Shut up! Mittelstaedt, dammit man, wake up! And you, boy, you damn well better watch out. Brugmann, get his - what the hell! You little shite. Brugmann, hold him!" Grumbling, Kaufmann took one of the boy's arms while they pulled at his crossbelts. It should not take three riflemen to "disarm" an unarmed boy.
sans nom- Captain
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
They tugged the crossbelts over his head, letting go of his arms momentarily to pull the belts free. That was a mistake.
The moment his arms were free, the Frenchman went mad – rocketing to his feet, screaming, lashing out with his feet and fists. Mittelstaedt fell back a pace, clutching his rifle, fear and confusion written across his face.
"Son of a –" Brugmann's curse was cut short by one of the Frenchman's indiscriminate blows, and with a snarl, he reversed his rifle and lunged the brass capped butt into the man's belly. "Bastard," he spat, as Mittelstaedt, rallying, drove his own weapon at the back of the fellow's knees, then brought the business end to bear on his head as the boy collapsed. He was sobbing, but Mittelstaedt was past caring. That was twice now that he'd called his bluff, and Mittelstaedt was no longer bluffing. If the bastard so much as sneezed—
He let out a startled squawk as hands seized him from behind and half flung, half dragged him to the side where his progress was halted first by Kaufmann's solid bulk and then, as his flailing hands failed to find purchase, the ground. "What the ****ing hell?"
The moment his arms were free, the Frenchman went mad – rocketing to his feet, screaming, lashing out with his feet and fists. Mittelstaedt fell back a pace, clutching his rifle, fear and confusion written across his face.
"Son of a –" Brugmann's curse was cut short by one of the Frenchman's indiscriminate blows, and with a snarl, he reversed his rifle and lunged the brass capped butt into the man's belly. "Bastard," he spat, as Mittelstaedt, rallying, drove his own weapon at the back of the fellow's knees, then brought the business end to bear on his head as the boy collapsed. He was sobbing, but Mittelstaedt was past caring. That was twice now that he'd called his bluff, and Mittelstaedt was no longer bluffing. If the bastard so much as sneezed—
He let out a startled squawk as hands seized him from behind and half flung, half dragged him to the side where his progress was halted first by Kaufmann's solid bulk and then, as his flailing hands failed to find purchase, the ground. "What the ****ing hell?"
outis- Commander
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
Kaufmann did not waste time on Mittelstaedt. He pushed him out of his way as he lunged for the big Frenchman, but Schwol was there already, driving the butt of his rifle low into the man's back. Kaufmann had his chance on the fellow's way down, though, swinging his rifle at the bastard's face.
"Hold him!" he shouted to Schwol, but the rifleman was already moving in, thrusting the barrel of his rifle against the big man's head and pressing a foot on his back.
The younger Frenchman seemed to have completely lost his wits, screaming and crying. He could only be crazy or possessed of a death wish the way he was acting. "Get ahold of him, Brugmann! Mittelstaedt, get something to tie their hands, for f---'s sake! Shut up, boy." Kaufmann aimed a kick at the young fellow's back, but only enough to show him who was in charge. "The hell is wrong with him?"
"Hold him!" he shouted to Schwol, but the rifleman was already moving in, thrusting the barrel of his rifle against the big man's head and pressing a foot on his back.
The younger Frenchman seemed to have completely lost his wits, screaming and crying. He could only be crazy or possessed of a death wish the way he was acting. "Get ahold of him, Brugmann! Mittelstaedt, get something to tie their hands, for f---'s sake! Shut up, boy." Kaufmann aimed a kick at the young fellow's back, but only enough to show him who was in charge. "The hell is wrong with him?"
sans nom- Captain
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
"He's French," Brugmann muttered as if that explained everything, thrusting the boy forward onto the ground and wrenching his arms behind him.
Mittelstaedt tore a strip of cloth from the shirt of a nearby corpse and, dropping to his knees beside the weeping Frenchman, knotted his wrists tightly together.
"D'you want him tied up as well," he asked Kaufmann, nodding at their other prisoner. Beyond a first feeble attempt to rise, the man had not offered any resistance once Schwol had him on the ground. Still, the memory of being flung into Kaufmann was still fresh in Mittelstaedt's mind.
Mittelstaedt tore a strip of cloth from the shirt of a nearby corpse and, dropping to his knees beside the weeping Frenchman, knotted his wrists tightly together.
"D'you want him tied up as well," he asked Kaufmann, nodding at their other prisoner. Beyond a first feeble attempt to rise, the man had not offered any resistance once Schwol had him on the ground. Still, the memory of being flung into Kaufmann was still fresh in Mittelstaedt's mind.
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
"Yeah. No, wait." He was staring at the younger Frenchman, now being hauled to his feet. The boy was seemingly crazed with terror, but there was something else peculiar about him. Kaufmann frowned and then waved a hand in front of the soldier's eyes. Then he let out an exasperated grunt. "He's blind. Dammit, he's got that Egyptian disease."
sans nom- Captain
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
"What?" Brugmann pulled away sharply, very nearly letting go of the boy. "Aw, hell! What disease?"
Mittelstaedt stared open mouthed at Kaufmann and then the Frenchman. "What? Like... dogs get? Makes 'em mad, like? Shit, he didn't bite you did he, Brugmann?"
Mittelstaedt stared open mouthed at Kaufmann and then the Frenchman. "What? Like... dogs get? Makes 'em mad, like? Shit, he didn't bite you did he, Brugmann?"
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
"No, you idiot. Just shut up and look through that pack. All right, Schwol." The rifleman removed his foot and Kaufmann reached down to pull the big Frenchman to his feet. The man flinched as he was grabbed, and Kaufmann noticed belatedly that the whole sleeve of his coat was charred or burned. "Schwol, get him up and mind his arm. He can lead the other one along."
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
Mittelstaedt looked unconvinced, but he did as he was told, making a cursory search of the pack. There was precious little of worth. A pipe -- he pocketed the small pouch of tobacco -- a few dice, some odds and ends, and what had once been a spare shirt. He scowled. "Nothin'. Bastard's skint."
He got to his feet, keeping well out of the way as the big Frenchman was shoved in the direction of his companion.
"Go on, then," Brugmann, who'd meanwhile fixed his bayonet, snapped, prodding the man in the back. "Get him moving."
He got to his feet, keeping well out of the way as the big Frenchman was shoved in the direction of his companion.
"Go on, then," Brugmann, who'd meanwhile fixed his bayonet, snapped, prodding the man in the back. "Get him moving."
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
The big Frenchman seemed to take their meaning at least and began leading his friend, still sobbing. Schwol and Kaufmann took the lead, keeping alert and watching for danger as they walked ahead of the prisoners, while Brugmann and Mittelstaedt followed behind.
"Will he never shut up?" Schwol grumbled while the young prisoner wept and sniffled behind him. "I'm gonna stuff something in his mouth if he doesn't stop. Oh, shut UP!"
"Will he never shut up?" Schwol grumbled while the young prisoner wept and sniffled behind him. "I'm gonna stuff something in his mouth if he doesn't stop. Oh, shut UP!"
sans nom- Captain
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
"Shut up yourself!" growled Brugmann, "Christ, you're as bad as he is. Oh for-- there he goes again. See what you done?"
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
Schwol turned to look back, and he saw that now the prisoners had stopped walking. "Oh for ****'s sake!"
Kaufmann sighed and glanced back at Brugmann and Mittelstaedt. "A bit of bayonet please, ladies. We ain't got all day."
Kaufmann sighed and glanced back at Brugmann and Mittelstaedt. "A bit of bayonet please, ladies. We ain't got all day."
sans nom- Captain
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
"Ah, shove it up your ass," Brugmann muttered under his breath. Planting the tip of his bayonet against the Frenchman's back, he propelled him forward. "Get moving."
It worked -- for all of two steps, and then they stopped again. Brugmann swore explosively. He was just about ready to run the bastard through when Mittelstaedt cried out and grabbed for the man's arm. "He's trying to escape!" the younger man cried in alarm.
It worked -- for all of two steps, and then they stopped again. Brugmann swore explosively. He was just about ready to run the bastard through when Mittelstaedt cried out and grabbed for the man's arm. "He's trying to escape!" the younger man cried in alarm.
outis- Commander
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
Kaufmann gave a shout, and Schwol whipped around to point his rifle at the big Frenchman, expecting to see him attacking or getting ready to run. But he was just standing there. They were both just standing there, and he apparently had been attempting to untie his friend's hands. And now he was staring at Kaufmann. Just standing there and staring.
"Kauf?" Schwol said quietly. The rifleman beside him was still, staring back at the prisoner. What was this? "C'mon Kauf." And the young Frenchman still would not stop crying. He was shaking too, all over, and would probably be impossible to deal with now, worse than the stubbornest mule.
Kaufmann knew it too. He was tired, achingly tired of the smoke and the screams and the dead and dying, and he was ready to leave this wretched place. And so was the prisoner staring back at him. The boy at his side, trembling and terrified, doubtless felt the same. And there was one way to make it quicker.
Kaufmann took a weary breath and pulled the knife from his belt. He moved impatiently toward the prisoners, but then he saw the look on the big fellow's face. He's afraid. He thinks I'm going to cut their throats. It was a strange emotion to know that someone, even a Frenchman, would expect that of him. He was not going to kill an unarmed, wounded prisoner who had surrendered, right here in the middle of - what the hell was wrong with his mind? Sleep was what he needed. He let the prisoner see him looking toward the young fellow's bonds, gesturing slightly with the knife. Then he took the man's wrists and cut through the cloth strips, quickly before he could change his mind and decide it was a bad idea.
"Now let's get out of here," he said, shoving the knife back in his belt.
"Kauf?" Schwol said quietly. The rifleman beside him was still, staring back at the prisoner. What was this? "C'mon Kauf." And the young Frenchman still would not stop crying. He was shaking too, all over, and would probably be impossible to deal with now, worse than the stubbornest mule.
Kaufmann knew it too. He was tired, achingly tired of the smoke and the screams and the dead and dying, and he was ready to leave this wretched place. And so was the prisoner staring back at him. The boy at his side, trembling and terrified, doubtless felt the same. And there was one way to make it quicker.
Kaufmann took a weary breath and pulled the knife from his belt. He moved impatiently toward the prisoners, but then he saw the look on the big fellow's face. He's afraid. He thinks I'm going to cut their throats. It was a strange emotion to know that someone, even a Frenchman, would expect that of him. He was not going to kill an unarmed, wounded prisoner who had surrendered, right here in the middle of - what the hell was wrong with his mind? Sleep was what he needed. He let the prisoner see him looking toward the young fellow's bonds, gesturing slightly with the knife. Then he took the man's wrists and cut through the cloth strips, quickly before he could change his mind and decide it was a bad idea.
"Now let's get out of here," he said, shoving the knife back in his belt.
sans nom- Captain
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
They were moving again. Not as quickly as Brugmann would have liked, what with the big fellow limping along and the other one clinging to him like a wet blanket, but at least they were moving.
"So what's the disease, then? The Egyptian one," asked Mittelstaedt suddenly, as if no time had elapsed since Kaufmann brought it up.
"So what's the disease, then? The Egyptian one," asked Mittelstaedt suddenly, as if no time had elapsed since Kaufmann brought it up.
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
Kaufmann let out a long sigh. "You know. That thing soldiers get in Egypt. A bunch of them Irish lads had it in Lisbon, remember?" He glanced back at Brugmann. "Did the blind one have a pack or a haversack?"
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
Seeing Brugmann grimace, Mittelstaedt snickered at what he imagined to be a cyclopean effort on the other rifleman's part to think. And got punched in the arm for it. Nursing his bruise, he scowled sidelong at Brugmann as he said, "Nah, just his cartridge box and scabbard."
outis- Commander
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
"What about in his pockets?"
sans nom- Captain
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
"Sorta missed that. On account of him trying to claw my damn eyes out," Brugmann grumbled.
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
"Oh, well done Brugmann. Be sure to let us know when he pulls out a knife to stab us in the back."
sans nom- Captain
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Re: Die Feurigan Felder
Brugmann snorted. "We can check when we get where we're goin'." If the boy had a knife, he would have used it by now. Besides he was only finally starting to quiet down.
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