Summing it up

You ponder for a moment the contact you felt when you attempted to pull your trumps through shadow. The contact felt Amberite, it felt familiar but simultaneously completely alien. Whatever, whomever it was, knew what the trumps were, knew who you were and now they're after you. You also know there was some magic involved in preventing you from taking the trumps, so magic is usable in this shadow. They won't likely be stopped by you and a few troops of questionable ability... but someone must defend the wounded.

The guard returns with several others, they're all armed with standard bolt-action rifles, pistols and a few grenades. The 'nuns' seem even better prepared, with large quantities of isopropyl alcohol, cooking oil, lamp oil, several large canisters of nitrous oxide and even a couple of gallons of diesel. There is also the entire kitchen of items to consider, as well as a barn full of hay and gardening/farming implements, fertilizer. Finally several of the patients are able to help.

As you consider your resources, you see some more cat men enter the dining hall, all of them armed with what appear to be hunting rifles. They approach you and one explains, "We will help defend... our farms are in danger too."

Your total support then is nearly twenty, able-bodied cat men with rifles and pistols. A dozen cat nuns with a few extra rifles, a shotgun, knives and lots of flammables. And another eight patients, in varying degrees of disablement. A motley bunch against the thousands you figure were marching this way.

Defense

Within a moment you understand what needs to be done. Heading back down the stairs you consider the layout of the clinic. Situated on top of a hill with a long drive up to the top... it's actually an ideal place to mount a defense, if you can find the manpower and weapons.

You enter back into the dining area, encountering the guard on the way in. You order him to gather all the able bodied persons into the dining hall immediately, telling him that there is little time. He salutes and dashes into the clinic.

You tell the few others gathered in the dining area to gather weapons quickly and prepare to fight. You then head into the kitchen and warn the women there. Several of them look scared, but others grab sharp knives from the rack.

The head nurse as she enters the kitchen. "What is this commotion?" She demands.

"How can we communicate with our forces?" You ask.

"We can only communicate by courier." She replies. "With the battle so far away we have little need for other means."

"Most definitely," you reply, "we need reinforcements now."

"We have a bicycle, and a fast rider, but the battle was far off...", she is interuptted by a couple nurses who run in from outside.

"Sister!", one says. "We were gathering fruit and saw a pillar descend! It's only about 20 kilometers from here!" She exclaims.

"Can we evacuate the wounded?" You ask.

"Impossible... ", her eyes seem to glaze over. "There are too many."

"Then you must get every able bodied person into the dining hall immediately. We also need weapons..."

{Consider what might be usable as a weapon in a hospital/clinic at the turn of the last century, apart from any guns they might have.}

The View from Here

You stand to leave the dining area. The closest cat lowers his gaze. You hear the women in the kitchen but ignore them headed for the guarded door. The guard sees you coming and stiffens to an attention. He says nothing as you walk past him into a dark hall way. At the end you see a set of stairs and climb them.

As you're headed up the stairs your mind reaches into shadow and you call forth Argentum. As soon as you think about it, you feel the weight upon your finger. You reach again into shadow to find your trumps, this time you feel something else... someone listening. You feel your trumps in the possession of another, who resists you. He knows where you are!

You break the link and feel a slight headache. Dizzy, for just a moment you look around, still in the staircase, only a bit of light pours in from the small windows. The person who has your trumps is relatively nearby... you can feel it.

You finish climbing the stairs and stand in a tower overlooking a valley. In the distance you see a pillar of strange smoke which undulates oddly. Occasional bolts of lightning appear within it, seemingly moving from ground to sky. Further on, over the mountain ridge you can make out another pillar, and yet another even further. You can just make out the ocean through the haze.

Whatever kind of battle this is, there is sorcery of some sort involved.

You know that your enemy lies near that nearest pillar. You watch it move and shimmer and notice movement away from its base headed in your direction. You watch just long enough to realize that it is an army, of some sort, and they're headed toward you and the hospital.

Only Human

You appear to be the only 'human' if indeed one of your noble blood can be called that. The feline folks are speaking French, and since you know it well, you listen in. The cats in the corner are speaking in hushed tones and seem to be chatting about 'the monkey'. The others seem only concerned about their meals.

Since you inhaled your last bit of food, the nurse has given in and brought you a large steaming pot of porridge, two loaves of bread and two flagons of wine.

You try to chat up the nurse, in French, but she only smiles and scampers away. You lean toward the nearest cat and ask, "How were you injured?"

The cat stares at you, swallows a gulp of his meal and replies quietly, "I was in a foxhole with a corporal , when a grenade landed near us... he fell on it. He is not here." You note that he is missing a leg.

"How goes the war?" You ask.

"I should be asking you! Are you not one of the commanders? All of the commanders are... monkeys... like you." He seems uncomfortable talking to you, so you let him be.

You sit quietly then, thinking things over. You attempt to contact Logan, but you receive nothing. Either he's not talking, or is unable, of course if he is far enough in shadow from you, you might not be able to talk to him.

Apart from the slightly lessened hunger and gaps in your memory, you feel almost normal. The nurse has not returned since you spoke to her directly earlier.

Losses

You allow the nurse to help you put the robe on. It is warm and comfortable, but your clothes are no where in sight nor is your beloved sword, Argentum. You also are lacking your trump deck.

You believe that you remember everything about yourself, but there are certainly gaps in your memory as you're still unsure as to how you got here or what you were doing here in the first place. You have no memory of the wound, much less the battle in which you received it.

As the nurse helps you (or, as you allow her to help you, for you're in no need of assistance any longer) into the hallway, you note electric fixtures, but they seem to not be working but there are gas lamps and candles, a few of which are burning. You glimpse other patients, through some doorways, all of them seem to be less than ambulatory. You're of the conviction that you are certainly luckier than most who are being treated here.

Given the smell of gunpowder on the breeze, you're sure that you're in a shadow closer to that of Earth, though certainly there are few bipedal felines living there.

The building is large, but very utilitarian, wood and stucco throughout. You note feline-laden crucifixes on certain walls, as well as small portraits of a female cat creature in a blue robe, with some form of halo about her. This strikes you as humorous, but your growling stomach causes any amusement to be quickly stifled.

As you descend a small flight of stairs you enter a dark room with several tables. Lit candles sit on the tables providing light. A few feline men, in various forms of bandaging sit and attempt to eat. Some lap liquids in bowls on the tables. Far on the other side of the room a uniformed cat stands by a door. The cat is armed with what is clearly a single-shot rifle.

The nurse helps you to a table and then departs. As you look about you realize that everyone in the room is looking at you. Some openly, others try to hide their interest but fail after a moment or two.

A couple of patients in the far corner of the room seem to be whispering intently about you, since they keep looking your direction as they speak. The nurse returns and places a bowl in front of you and a glass of what appears to be milk next to it. The odor of fish is quite strong, and nearly turns your stomach, however your hunger overwhelms your gag reflex and you nearly inhale the food. The nurse giggles at the speed at which you engorge... you quickly hold the bowl out to her and say simply, "More."

She nods and takes the bowl, heading back toward what you assume is the kitchen. In the meanwhile you swallow the glass of milk.

The Clinique

You take note that you're wearing a light hospital gown.

"What is this place?", you ask.

"You are in the Clinique de rue Maria, we are a private hospital. I am Mother Clara." She replies.

"How long have I been here?", you inquire.

"Your friend brought you here about two weeks ago. You were very close to death, I have never seen a man with such a wound heal... much less survive. But you..." She hesitates. "You barely have a scar left."

A flash, just a moment, of recollection. Pain, intense and searing.

"The bullet perforated your liver, passing through your back, also shedding shrapnel into the kidney." She points toward your right side.

"When you were brought here, you bled and bled... we have so few supplies and you exhausted our supply of morphine. But your friend... he left and returned with boxes of the drug as well as other equipment I have never seen before. He actually ran tubes of his own blood into you." She continued. As she spoke the charge nurse opened a closet and retrieved a robe.

"Where is Logan?", once more you inquire.

"Your friend? Monsieur Khan left two days ago, I have not seen from him since. He told me that he would return for you and to keep you here."

"Food..." the need overwhelms.

"Of course, Maria will help you into your robe and to the dining hall. I must attend to other patients..." and with that she leaves.

The other nurse had taken the robe out of the close and heads for your bed.

Revelations

You look carefully around the room. The walls seem made of wood, the bed you are in is cast iron. White curtains wave as a breeze enters the room from outside, carrying along with it the smells of the forest, and also of gunpowder. You see nothing directly indicating the time, or place.

As the nurse approaches, you study her. She is wearing a v-shaped white hat, that has curtains on the sides that hide her face. She is carrying a tray and her hands are unseen. She is completely clothed in shades of white, the style seems to indicate a religious order.

"Where am I? how Long have I been here?", you croak, your voice still a bit gravel-laden.

The nurse gasps to hear your voice and lifts her head. The curtains fall away from her face and you see the remarkable features of her feline nature. She is most certainly a cat of some sort, probably a tabby.

"Pardon moi, monsieur!" she exclaims, her voice carrying touches of meows along with the French. She sets her tray down on a stool near your bed. Before you can say another word she flees the room.


You rub your eyes and face, noticing several days growth on your already full beard. Your mouth tastes distinctively like horse manure.

Another cat-nurse enters the room followed by the first. This one is wearing a black robe, with white hat.

"Pardon my charge's failure, sir, she is quite unaccustomed to speaking to patients. Few here ever recover from their wounds... especially none as severe as yours!" She moves quickly to your bedside and touches your head. Her English, though accented, is quite good.

"Why does it smell like a battle, yet you seem so calm?" You ask her.

"The battle is far from here," she replies, "yet is so grave that the smells carry a long distance... I'm sure you're very hungry, if you feel up to it we can provide you sustenance of your choice downstairs."

Awakening

Sleep and dream, and dream you did. The wildest dreams, frightening images of wolves and teeth, occasionally you awoke, drenched in sweat and shouting. You were aware that someone would come, dressed all in white, and help you back into the bed and wash you down with a cool sponge. You'd try to mumble thanks but your voice would not form words and soon you were drowning again in dreams.

You're unsure of how long this went on, constantly waking up in pain and horror, and being put back to bed... but at some point you became aware that days were passing. Your thoughts became clearer and you steeled yourself to fight. Each time the dreams came, you resisted more and more, remembering who you were and fighting with all the ferocity and tenacity that made that blood running through your veins so special.

You ate, you drank, you slept some more.

One night you were awakened, the lamp beside your bed was burning dimly and you could just make out the shadowy form sitting beside your bed. You smelled tobacco and alcohol, and you opened your mouth to beg for a drink, yet again barely a hiss came out.

"Partched, eh?", the figure asked jovially. You nodded and you caught the glimmer of the lamp in a flask drawn from the stranger's cloak. "Drink this quick. I'm sure the sisters here would disapprove. You need to regain your strength... we have a long journey ahead of us." He placed the flask to your lips and the warm heaven poured into your throat.

The stranger looked away as if listening for something. "We must make it back to Amber soon."

AMBER! You know Amber, you know who you are... you know you need to go there, but why?

"Sleep some more, I'll be back in a few days with supplies... if I'm not back, you'll have to come find me!", the stranger grunted. He leaned forward and you were able to focus for just a moment...

"Logan", you tried to croak, but the alcohol hit your brain and you were again asleep.


You awaken again, unsure of how long you've been asleep... you hear birds singing and the breeze carries on it a whiff of smoke and... gunpowder.

One of the nurses enters your room with a bowl and wash cloth.