[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=steelblue]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1] [img]https://31.media.tumblr.com/bcfab66a674d39bfaaddc28bd62d4470/tumblr_inline_ne41kcr5UN1s5par2.jpg[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] LaGrange Street, Inner Gate --> LaGrange Street, headed North to Building 6 (Armory) [/center][hr][hr] Hell yes, he meant to do something about it. This had to be Eden's doing; a salvo fired to let Newnan know that they were still around. Apparently, the gift of a couple thousand dead people didn't give them the message the first time around. Ash had no idea why this other settlement intended them harm, none whatsoever. They hadn't done anything to them, directly or otherwise, that could be considered hostile. Not at least until they attacked under cover of that storm a month back. At this point in time, his thoughts drifted toward gathering every man and woman old enough to hold a rifle together and marching on that pissant settlement, killing anything that moved and burning the place to the ground. Briefly, thoughts of taking up sniping positions outside of their perimeter flashed to mind, with the intent of picking off any survivors limping away from the ruins. Let the Dead have their corpses. But that would cause an amazing loss of life, to Newnan and Eden both. His violent [i]wants[/i] shouldn't lead to unnecessary death. Unnecessary, mind you. But some people had to die. Just not his people, if he could help it. Upon seeing the approach of the Captain and party, Jim opened the Inner Gate just enough to admit the group. They filed in, again with Ash waiting until last with his gun at the ready, covering their back until everyone was safely inside. Once beyond the portal, he gave a direct command to the two Security personnel on escort detail, [color=steelblue]"Plan hasn't changed, gentlemen. New arrival to the Mess Hall, bring the other two with you. Keep them safe, maintain order. I'm headed to the Armory to equip and organize."[/color] Ash took off at a jog to meet up with the people migrating to the Armory. His Detonix .45 stayed at the ready in one hand while his radio found its way into its other. It was the latter which he used at the moment, addressing Newnan at large. [color=steelblue]"This is Ash. Security stations, report."[/color] [hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=c0c0c0]The Great Bazhooli[/color][/b][/i][/h1] [img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/0c830ac3-637e-4722-a654-d4192b0bd4c2.jpg[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] LaGrange Street, Inner Gate --> LaGrange Street, headed North to Building 2 (Mess Hall) [/center][hr][hr] The smallish girl suddenly decided to wear her ovaries on the outside. Good on her. Admittedly, she was correct in her assessment that knives would be of no use in their present situation. [color=c0c0c0]"Da, malyshka. Yesli oni ne vidyat menya."[/color][sub]1[/sub] He was actually giving thought to his rifle, still tucked away in his great bearskin coat. Of course, a rifle is likewise useless if you can't get a line of sight on something that needs a bullet inserted therein. There was logic in the lady's statement. The Great Bazhooli nodded grimly, taking Sophia's wheelchair handles. [color=c0c0c0]"Da. I vill help."[/color] he acquiesced. The colorful man was just about to ask where he needed to go, when Sophia and Ash both mentioned The Mess Hall, right on top of each other. It sounded good enough. Point of fact, it sounded like exactly the same spot that he mentioned they were going in the first place. With no weapons, no lay of the land, and no idea where the shots came from, it was probably best to just find that cover and get low. Besides, being in a Mess Hall gave the possibility of grabbing a bite to eat while they waited for the emergency to pass. If he didn't get himself shot in the meantime, that is. [color=c0c0c0]"Ok, vhere is... follow man with gun. Okay."[/color] The Great Bazhooli pushed the wheelchair along at a jog, careful not to spill his human cargo but simultaneously eager to get out of the open. The last kind of impression he wanted to leave on his hosts was one that involved death, including his own. [hider=Translations] [sub]1[/sub] = Yes, little one. Unless they also do not see me. [/hider] [hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=orangered]Bridgette Vinters[/color][/b][/i][/h1] [img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/d5/b4/78/d5b478ac0063ce48f5bab3cb5648b0a1.jpg[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Jefferson Street, headed North --> Building 6 (Armory) [/center][hr][hr] At least the kids were listening to Bridgette as she spewed her various obscenities and commanded them to move indoors. She guessed that sometimes all one needed to snap out of a fear-induced muscular shutdown was a caustic, screaming voice scaring one in a different direction. Not surprisingly, that pretty much summed her up. Considering the fact that she was still very new in this town (and wasn't exactly known as "kid friendly"), Bridgette was honestly amazed that these children were complying with her siren-like bellow to move for cover, and immediately at that. It wasn't just for their protection, either. She had a job that needed to be done, a gruesome one that shouldn't be done in front of them. They could get education enough in the realities of this world later. Right now, they had to run. And she had to do the little girl one last favor. She traded our her big seax for a smaller knife; still considered large to most people, though Bridgette herself had a different standard as it came to blade size. Still, for this work, smaller is preferable. No sense mangling a corpse. She brought the point of her substitute knife up and into the little girl's cranial cavity, bypassing hard bone with a single upward thrust. Luck was with her in that moment: There was no sudden spasm, no twitch to indicate that she was cutting into anything other than lifeless flesh. She breathed a silent prayer to whoever was listening, and left the body on the ground. Tears welled up, finally, as she realized that this was the first time she had to put down a child. Not a teenager, not some random Biter with already decomposing flesh and yellowed eyes, no monster. She just had to put a knife through the brain of an otherwise intact, still warm [i]child[/i] that, beforehand, she could not have been one hundred percent sure that the girl had actually died. A shudder ran through her body. An odd feeling for her, revulsion. Revulsion in her own action, nevermind that it was the right and merciful thing to do. She tried to swallow the feeling down, but the tears remained. Blinking them away, Bridgette mounted her horse and nudged him into a full gallop. Seconds later the generally unpleasant Viking lady was leading Cadence into the double doors of Tom's miniature castle inside of Newnan Proper, The Tomory. It was very likely the first time that a horse had ever been given admittance into this [i]particular[/i] branch of the Bank of America Financial Center, but Bridgette would be damned if she was going to just leave him out there for target practice by an unknown enemy. She hastily scrubbed the tears from her face and addressed the building's proprietor, [color=orangered]"Sorry about that, Tom. I'll ask him not to shit on the floor, but no promises, huh? Now, where the fuck's my box? I need to slip into something more comfortable."[/color] [hr][hr][center][h1][color=firebrick]Black James![/color][/h1] [img]https://v.cdn.vine.co/r/avatars/6AE78329E91063505631975227392_pic-r-1396533712688c4afde8ecf.jpg.jpg?versionId=ZnGOSit0zozlhxpJk0w6QVx4cSozVRdq[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Gilbert Street, in front of Building 1 (Courthouse) --> Headed North on LaGrange Street to Building 6 (Armory) [/center][hr][hr] James sighed. If the kid wasn't dead before, he certainly was now. Shaking his head, the veteran Blackneck let the boy's body drop to the blacktop below. Honor could be paid to the dead when he was certain of Newnan's safety. Well, relative safety, anyway. Let's face it, if this town were completely secure, those fuckers wouldn't have been able to rain lead down on a group of hungry kids. He didn't consider himself a soldier. Not by a long stretch. While he was no coward, as had been proven several times in is life, James Grady was simply not trained as a warrior. The distinction in his mind was pretty distinct. He could fight, certainly. For a man in his early forties, he was broad and strong. But the raw talent for martial tactic was not his forte. These days, it could be argued that [i]everyone[/i] had to be a soldier. Maybe they were even right. Leann, Ash, Alicia, CAESAR, from what he heard Lorna, now [i]those[/i] were soldiers. All but one were dead, and he was starting to worry about that guy. Even Zoie might be grouped in with these people. While she was not a soldier, she was a talented fighter and natural leader. All James knew is that something had to be done about this, and he wasn't the man to ask about what plan they should use. But he knew the man who did. It occurred to him that Niesha was speaking to him. Her words were muted somewhat, drowned out by the adrenaline rushing in his blood and his diverted attention, scanning the rooftops and beyond for the telltale glint or movement that would announce the presence of whoever was shooting at them. Giving conscious effort to remember what she had just said, he nodded and began running to the Armory. Just before he rounded the corner, he could be clearly heard yelling back to the younger folk assembled on Gilbert Street, [color=firebrick]"Y'all do what I say - [i]Get yo asses inside the Courthouse![/i] I'ms gettin' Vera."[/color]