Board Thread:Non-TES Roleplaying/@comment-19164168-20170113003748/@comment-35609040-20170218035118

Peer dropped against a stack of cobbles on a cafe corner, a cohort of impetuous SS-men close at his boot's heels. The chosen cover, seemingly bribed by Sudaten luck, creeped around its stone host to a point of near circumvention. It could have been an excellent point of attack, but a scene had already entered the Pioniere's second vision: a Frenchman; Francois; Francois Dufour, a printer; nice kids, great wife. And is that his house by the shores of Calais? It's adorable. Small, yes, but quaint in such a way that-

'No', Peer thought to himself, 'no further'. A Frenchman was all he could see. A Frenchman who wanted to kill him and his komraden with the machine gun he was cunningly abstaining from the use of. The machine gun aimed directly at the corner, and the stack of cobbles. "Halt!", the covering Sommer yelled, but his contingent showed no slowing of pace. "Halte Komeraden, Halte", he cried to them, "Komeraden, abwarten!  Halte, halte!!"