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7 yrs ago
Current Malfunctioning Space Toilet (favorite death post in RPG) : roleplayerguild.com/posts/4…
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9 yrs ago
Example of a "Character Flaw": roleplayerguild.com/posts/32..
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Maybe it's paranoia. Maybe it isn't. One overworked and beleaguered Sheriff's suspicions direct him to a course of action he would never have considered a year prior - He is calling upon adventurers for aid.

Avonshire is a sleepy agricultural region in a greater Human kingdom which boasts highly productive lands and a solid population of Halflings among the Human majority. Disappearances and rumors of other things amiss have brought a sense of underlying dread to the region, and most people agree that something must be done.


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Welcome to Avonshire.

This is a low level adventure based on Fifth Edition Dungeons & Dragons. I say based on, as I believe some aspects need to be altered or abbreviated to better fit the format here. To make things comfortable most parties, we will be using 5e character sheets, backed up by a more basic one on this site. There are excellent online options from Myth-Weavers and on D&D Beyond specifically for this purpose.

In any case, this is not a straightforward D&D game, but it is going to to be influenced so heavily that is might as well be. Think about this as a one-shot with elements of mystery, exploration, and sprinkles of warm, yummy combat. It will be RP heavy. It will also be pretty straightforward. This is a homebrew setting that is fairly cookie-cutter high medieval fantasy, with some features which might surprise certain preconceived ideas.

If things transpire optimally and a solid group comes together, this RP can be used as a springboard into a full campaign.

This is obviously based on Tabletop metrics, but I will be hosting it in Casual for two main reasons:

  • More draw from the RP passersby
  • Because while this is based off of 5e D&D, strictly speaking it is not.


This RPG is NOT first come, first serve. Follow the rules for entry and character generation, complete your CS fully, and I will consider this an application. Please click on the link to reach the OOC, below. Thank you very much for reading this far, and best of luck in all of your games.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure
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Maybe it's paranoia. Maybe it isn't. One overworked and beleaguered Sheriff's suspicions direct him to a course of action he would never have considered a year prior - He is calling upon adventurers for aid.

Avonshire is a sleepy agricultural region in a greater Human kingdom which boasts highly productive lands and a solid population of Halflings among the Human majority. Disappearances and rumors of other things amiss have brought a sense of underlying dread to the region, and most people agree that something must be done.


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Welcome to Avonshire.

This is a low level adventure based on Fifth Edition Dungeons & Dragons. I say based on, as I believe some aspects need to be altered or abbreviated to better fit the format here. To make things comfortable most parties, we will be using 5e character sheets, backed up by a more basic one on this site. There are excellent online options from Myth-Weavers and on D&D Beyond specifically for this purpose.

In any case, this is not a straightforward D&D game, but it is going to to be influenced so heavily that is might as well be. Think about this as a one-shot with elements of mystery, exploration, and sprinkles of warm, yummy combat. It will be RP heavy. It will also be pretty straightforward. This is a homebrew setting that is fairly cookie-cutter high medieval fantasy, with some features which might surprise certain preconceived ideas.

If things transpire optimally and a solid group comes together, this RP can be used as a springboard into a full campaign.

This is obviously based on Tabletop metrics, but I will be hosting it in Casual for two main reasons:

  • More draw from the RP passersby
  • Because while this is based off of 5e D&D, strictly speaking it is not.


This RPG is NOT first come, first serve. Follow the rules for entry and character generation, complete your CS fully, and I will consider this an application. Please click on the link to reach the OOC, below. Thank you very much for reading this far, and best of luck in all of your games.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure
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Act 1: Harvestide
(completed)

Maybe it's paranoia. Maybe it isn't. One overworked and beleaguered Sheriff's suspicions direct him to a course of action he would never have considered a year prior - He is calling upon adventurers for aid.

Avonshire is a sleepy agricultural region in a greater Human kingdom which boasts highly productive lands and a solid population of Halflings among the Human majority. Disappearances and rumors of other things amiss have brought a sense of underlying dread to the region, and most people agree that something must be done.


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Act 2: Wintering In Wine Country
(ongoing)

In a show of gratitude, the last of a renowned family of Vintners have invited the victorious adventurers back to their estate to spend the coming winter in comfort. While they appear sincere, even lavish with their hospitality, they have yet to answer old questions, even as new mysteries - and possibly dangers - arise.

The Rose River Vineyard lays nestled in the heart of the Avonshire region, near the town of Southmoor, and produces some of the finest wines in the kingdom. The master of the estate has perished and his only direct living heir is too young to assume the responsibilities of family affairs. This detail, sadly, is the least of their difficulties.


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Welcome to Avonshire.

This is an adventure based on Fifth Edition Dungeons & Dragons. I say based on, as I believe some aspects need to be altered or abbreviated to better fit the format here. To make things comfortable all parties, we will be using 5e character sheets, backed up by a more basic one on this site. There are excellent online options from Myth-Weavers and on D&D Beyond specifically for this purpose. Character sheets will be created there and linked on the CS tab, pending approval here. More about character creation will be discussed below. First let’s get a few things out of the way. Consider this our Session Zero.



That was fun, right? So, the previous items were semi-specific to the game and setting. The following are general rules for any RPG I run. You may notice a similarity to the general rules of Lady Absinthia's RPs. Pay no mind. Huge coincidence. HUGE.



Things can get complicated with character generation. I am using a modified point buy system for establishing ability scores and limiting certain things in regard to source material, while opening up possibilities for wiggle room in other areas. Read this carefully and do not hesitate to drop me a message if you have questions. Once this hurdle is out of the way, it's all downhill, I promise. Sort of. Maybe. Okay, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it; suffice it to say that this is a bear and it cannot be avoided. Let us plow through together.



The Header is, oddly enough, to go at the head of every IC post. It serves a few purposes, not the least of which it as a quick reference for what your character is doing, where they are going, and their general state of condition and injury. Also, when we get into combat rotation, your header is where you declare bare bones actions, bonus actions, and reactions (if any are applicable). This is where character faceclaims or art will be shown, as well. Your color code will feature prominently here, so pick one you can live with.



Here we go, the almighty Character Sheet. To clarify from earlier, I will need a 3rd party site online CS, fully filled out, completely legit, IN ADDITION to the one below. Myth-Weavers and D&DBeyond are really good for this. I have a bent toward D&DBeyond myself, but I am open to others. When this is done, link it to the CS here in the space provided.

Submit CSs in the OOC only. Do not post it to the CS Tab until I have approved it. Do not post Works In Progress. Use a self-addressed PM to work on it if you must. After your CS is approved, it becomes immutable without permission. If it's small or something you overlooked, just send me an ask. Edit your CS without permission and you're kicked. Get caught cheating and you're kicked. Standard stuff.

Oh yeah, and when your CS is posted in the CS Tab - Put it in a hider. The hider's title is your character's full name. Keeps things tidy.

So brace yourself, fuckle up buttercup, hold your loved ones close, for here we delve into the sublime horror of...

...The Character Sheet!



Approved Characters:

  • Victoria Belmont (Half-Elf Bard)
  • Marita Bärbel (Human Cleric)
  • Kosara (Tiefling Warlock)
  • Kathryn Pyke (Human Fighter)
  • Baronfjørd Chedgusah (Dragonborn Monk)
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Ash Holloway
Location: Gaskins Still, Foodmart Exterior
Skills: N/A

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A mild twinge of objection took Ash as he noted alongside their observers that Team B was fracturing. Better judgement might have them staying together as a group, obviously, and he had to suppress the urge to say something, make some suggestion, bark some command that might have kept them operating as a cohesive unit. The problem wasn't that he felt they were going against protocol, like some impotent stickler for all that which was spit and polish, prim and proper; for Ash, this was a simple matter of trying to keep people alive. Their lack of tactic increased the likelihood of tragedy without equivalent potential reward for their risk.

Ash glanced to their observers and then back to Group B, briefly. Was it part of the test for them to act in the best interests of all parties, including the other group? He shook this idea from his head. They were out in the world. He needed to focus on what was best for the people he was with now, not the greater community. "Alright ramblers," he began, a sense of pride forming now that he realized that his group was sticking together like an organized team, "let's get rambling." He noted the suggestion coming from Nigel and gave him a nod. It wasn't a bad idea, whenever they got around to moving farther up the street. This wasn't exactly an urban area and such a practice would give some cover to one side. Not quite the strategy used by his people in The Sandbox, seeing as his enemy there was fond of utilizing Soviet era RPGs which could be used to great anti-personnel effect if the targets were near to a wall detonation. But if the Dead were capable of properly using such a weapon in the first place, Ash figured there was a whole lot more to worry about. Likewise if the living had casual access to said armament.

The erstwhile Captain kept his focus on his task at hand, trusting that the team had their own angles covered. They were assessing a building before entering, and he was keeping to this, advancing with his carbine in a low ready position. Ash took in the knowledge of animated Dead being spotted by others, in the first instance Nigel, and mentally filed this away. Too far out to be an issue right that second, not enough of a threat to fix it with a bullet and draw more attention to themselves. His tactic was fairly simple - being in possession of a weapon with range, if a noisy one at that, he could serve as excellent, accurate backup to the others in case a melee attack went awry, thusly giving two chances to down a corpse and provide cover from any living assailants. Again, noisy. But the lives of his team were worth more than the contents of the list. Maybe next time, he might request the use of a bow or crossbow to round out the group's options.

The convenience store wasn't the only structure in their immediate vicinity. Large, above ground diesel storage tanks lay in front of the main building, closer to the road than the regular gas pumps and the overhead rain shield. An unattended dumpster quietly sat, peeling green paint out behind the store, as well as another low building a little ways off. Ash reasoned that they might give it look when they were done with the food mart. It could likely wait. When they came back around, he quietly mentioned to the rest of the group, "Wouldn't mind finding their transfer pump inside. Give that storage tank a look too, time an' circumstance permitting."

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Thalia Carmichael
Location: Gaskins Still, Foodmart Exterior
Skills: Knife

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Others looked for Zeds, Thalia did too. Keeping one eye on your surroundings, even when one was asleep, was the best way to not die that she'd figured out so far. That and only coming into formerly populated areas when she absolutely had to. To that note, this whole outing seemed like a waste of time except to see if they could function as a group. Perhaps it was a good thing that she spent all of that time with Thana the rest of the "Eden" team. Without this necessary experience working with a group, originally led by a former Naval officer, Thalia might have felt even more out of place with these people. Possibly to the point of taking her quick and quiet leave of these people now that she was well fed, armed, and outside of the walls.

Thalia volunteered for the role of rear guard with this group. It was one suggested by Mr. Army Captain, and this was the key point here - suggested. He didn't order, nor did he specifically point to her to assume a role. This made a difference to her. He mentioned a plan when nobody else seemed to. It made sense, more or less. So Thalia took it upon herself to hang back a little, keeping her eyes on not only the details of the building they were to enter, but to the group's back. She saw the one Zed that Nigel pointed out earlier and mentally started a tally. That was one. Another corner of her brain kept track of exterior doors to the building they were scoping. Front, obviously, with large windows that a metal fist or piece of ammunition could get through. Rear loading door, likely only opened from inside.

Another note was the dumpster out back. It could possibly be useful to climb on top of or stand inside in case of more Zeds than they could handle, as both a defensive measure and as high ground they couldn't get their rotting asses up to. Easier pickings then.

As the group passed around a corner of the building, Thalia remained toward the back, not quite liking the look of a blown over stack of wooden pallets. She couldn't quite put her finger on it until she saw it shift. The ground suddenly became dangerous. Shambling to a crawling stand among the tall, brown grass and scraps of stapled wood was a creature which used to be a woman. Stringy, sparse hair of a now indeterminate color stuck sloppily to a desiccated face, featuring milky, sunken eyes.

That was two. "Got one heah," she announced, stepping to one side slightly to clear a line of secondary fire. The move was not from any military training she had received recently, but rather security protocols from her previous life with the MSS corporation. The memory of that life made her feel conscious of a scar residing below her collarbone, received from a bullet back before Zeds were ever a consideration. She shook it off. From the corner of her eye, Thalia saw the muzzle of a carbine turn in her general direction. She stepped forward, keeping her 9mm pistol at the ready but leading with her metal arm in a defensive posture. Defensive, unless one counted the knife pointed forward in an underhanded grip. It was with this that she struck out, taking one lunging step forward to drive the blade into the eye socket of the former person before quickly stepping back, letting gravity bring the corpse down. It was a funny feeling, using a knife without the telltale sensations in her hand. Foreign, somehow.

First blood to the Edgelord Mestiza from Boston. Back to one.

Satisfied, Thalia regrouped and kept tabs on the Zed farther out. It wasn't critical. She couldn't quite tell if it even sensed their presence yet. But her job now was to watch their backs, and that was definitely worth notation. The once-around the building complete, Thalia's eye caught sight of another one. It wasn't right on them, but might be a problem if Ash wanted to check out the diesel tank like he mentioned. It was partly underneath, seemingly pinned by something or otherwise unable to use its legs. They couldn't see it from the vantage of the street, but from here it was clear as day. And back to two.

"Diesel tank, down low," she intoned, motioning with her prosthetic. Now came the question: Did they handle them before they attempted to enter the building, or after? "Two total."

*****

Hank kept quiet, just as he said he would. He held a woodaxe in one hand, upon which he was precariously balancing a clipboard. Notes were taken. Occasionally, odd facial expressions or an errant head bob every now and again. This turned into something more serious when actual danger came to the forefront, but still, the notes. He looked to his fellow proctor and shrugged, then went right back to his observations.
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Ash Holloway
Location: Bus
Skills: Leadership, Science (Military)

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Ashton kept mostly to himself, giving himself the internal mindset of a man going back out into hostile territory. It was a decent enough approximation of what the world had become outside of whatever security could be carved out for one's self. Being inside of walls for the last number of months didn't serve to make him weaker or more intimidated by the outside world as it might have others in their position. Quite the opposite, he now had even more for which he felt a need to provide, or at least contribute. A much more soldierly version of Ash was asserting itself, still as quiet as ever but taking in and processing operational information from Maddoc as best as he could.

One thing which grabbed Ash's attention was that, despite the fact that there would be a senior officer present, no one was going to be giving guidance or speaking to protocol. In short: these teams, which had not yet been tested in the field together, were flying without leadership. Depending upon people and circumstances, this might not be a huge issue. Then again, for the same reasons this could be very, very bad.

When his name was called, Ash made his way over and was lent the use of a no-frills M4 carbine. Standard since the 90s, and a weapon that he extensively used since basic training. A field knife followed this, which he tucked into his belt. Ash took couple of seconds to inspect the firearm handed to him, going through initial safety procedure before returning to sit.

Ash was mulling over his concerns in his head, debating whether saying something was appropriate, when it occurred to him - the CMB officials were observing. They were trying to see how the groups would function while armed and without oversight. They wanted to see what would happen. In his case, they had already seen that Ash would follow orders with humility and purpose. Maybe this run was partially about something else. Be it possibly a mistake on his part, Ash felt the need to speak. However, someone wound up speaking to him first.

Nigel. He was proposing a deal. Ash regarded him for a moment and nodded, "I'm no expert. But sure, if you like." He leaned forward with a smile, continuing, "Provided we get the okay from brass. And a voucher for ammo." There was going to come a time when once standard, cased ammunition became a relic of the past. It was already a rare cottage industry at best. But if he wanted to learn pistols, great. He could help.

Just now, Ash took the opportunity to voice his concern from earlier. He raised his voice a little and projected mostly in the direction of the team to which he was assigned, but pitched so that the others might also be able to hear if they were trying to listen. "If you've made it this far, you're a survivor. I don't want to insult anybody's intelligence, so, grain of salt, please."

It looked like he was gearing up to say something. "A building to building sweep is nothing new for any of us." It was accurate enough; he'd been part of many of them during his military career and many more since the Outbreak. Anyone who scavenged from once-civilized areas did their own version of this. He took a glance around to eyeball the people that he was speaking to, then nodded and continued, "My intent is this: Scope a building's exterior first, quietly if possible. Then organize into a four-man fire team, fifth takes rear guard to cover our collective asses. Hit one room at a time until the building is secure. After, break into teams of two and three and go down our list. Move to the next building and repeat." He took a second to take in a breath. Either he just did something positive or he overstepped. In his mind, the team needed someone calling shots and keeping people together for the safety of all of them. Not to mention that, if the other team was listening and didn't have a solid idea of their own, there was something from which to build.

"If anyone's got a better plan, I'm all ears. If you're willing to follow mine, I'll kick in the first door."

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Thalia Carmichael
Location: Bus
Skills: N/A

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While the others in the bus were speaking among themselves, Thalia was taking mental note of the direction the bus was going in relation to the gate they had just left. Moreover, she attempted to make out the street signs and general landmarks. Her more observant (mildly paranoid) nature was coming forward and she was already planning on worst case scenarios, in this case having to make her way back to CMB without the aid of the transportation they currently enjoyed.

When "the talk" from Maddoc happened, Thalia was not amazingly surprised. She was not very happy with the situation, seeing as this looked a lot like an unnecessary risk for what was a moderate reward, but she was not surprised. Testing time. Maddoc and Hank were their proctors. It was like college all over again, but with guns, knives, and animated corpses. So, almost exactly like Suffolk University. Go Rams.

When her name was called, Thalia rose and went to collect her weapons for their little outing. Her case became a little troublesome, as her square peg didn't exactly fit the round hole that was their policy for distributing shooting and stabbing implements. A large melee weapon wasn't in her immediate future. Having only one articulate hand made that more difficult than it would be for most. Her skill with a spear, which she might have used one-handed, had been abbreviated and it wasn't in her training regimen to recover that ability. So with a sigh, Thalia took a 9mm Beretta and a knife. It was less firepower than the others had overall, so she might have to make up for this in other, less tangible ways. The first thing she did to make herself ready was to place the knife in an underhanded grip, blade facing outward (because those horror movie slashers were dumb as hell) in her artificial right hand, then compressed her metal fingers around it and locked them in place. It wasn't like her grip would tire.

The Beretta found decent lodging at the back of her belt, shortly after she chambered a round by pressing the slide against the heel of her shoe and making sure the safety was on. While she was most comfortable with a Glock 17, Thalia had to admit that the safety feature on the Beretta was a more ergonomic option. Her initial appraisal of her sidearm out of the way, she settled in to get as much rest as she could considering the circumstances, as Thalia was certain today would be a long day.

Looking around at the people in the bus around her, Thalia realized that she had not been out in the world with any of these people. Thana, Alexander, and Manny were back in CMB. Nigel, while a decent enough sparring partner, was not someone she had gone on a run with ever. The same went for Tatiana. She had been teaching Thalia ballet, for which she was grateful, and they had some interesting psychological qualities in common that she found gruesomely interesting, but again, they had no experience outside of walls together.

In their group, she was the odd one out and she knew it. Wayne and Nigel had history. Ash and Tatiana also had history. Thalia? For all she knew, they were looking at her, wondering if she was going to find a dark corner someplace and screw them all over. Logically, objectively, if one of them was going to, she was the most likely suspect. Sarcastically, Thalia pondered that this was a really fun position to be in. And par for the course for her.

She listened to Nigel's response, taking in the words about finding their place in the group and having a baptism of fire. It sounded colorfully epic, like people who write books about the glory of war, yet did not stick with her heart. To Thalia's mind, either they would do their job successfully, hopefully with all of them surviving, enough timed until something worked out. Until actual trust was formed. It would be a difficulty for Thalia to fully trust someone, though she had no intention of screwing over the others in the meantime. "Yeah," she said simply. This was not a discussion she felt comfortable responding to with overt optimism. "I'm sure we'll be fine." Her words felt hollow.

Thalia was partly glad that the conversation turned away from her and over to Ash. It allowed to to put more of her attention outside of the bus to scan for things which might be useful to her later; more landmarks or even places she might be able to hole up for a night, worst case scenario.

Then without warning, Captain America began to speak again. She wanted to say that he was being condescending, or talking down to the people in the bus as if he was the One Great Authority on doing shit like this. But considering that her assigned group didn't add anything, the people in the other group weren't talking much, and those in charge blatantly said that they were on their own, she was slightly relieved that someone spoke up. Even him. Thalia didn't like taking orders from people she didn't know and trust. Whatever. It wasn't the worst plan ever and she knew that personal factors were probably coloring her attitude. So she added, "Anybody else capable of being quiet?" in a cold voice with a hard edge to it. If she had to pair with someone, she'd rather it be someone who wouldn't immediately give away her position. But, beggars and choosers.
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Ash Holloway
Location: P6, Training Grounds -> Bus

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Ash looked at the exchange between Tatiana and Wayne curiously. She was basically family to him, and her husband was a close friend. Things had been very strained between those two lately and he was not happy to see it. Ash caught a little bit of this after they were able to recover the dainty but badassed ballerina. Something was different. He did not have the same kind of relationship with Tati that Jack did, so he was able to maintain greater objectivity with her despite her changes. There was a little surprise when he noted the familiarity with which she and Wayne conversed. The physical nature of their back-and-forth was not something which Ash approved of, even to the point of taking the start of a cursory step forward before he caught himself. Protective instincts died hard. He knew they were friends.

As for the one-armed lady, she seemed to pay him little mind and so he reciprocated. There was a sort of barrier between the two of them that he couldn't quite quantify. She seemed to be an incarnation of something familiar to him, yet foreign enough that it imposed the social equivalent of the psychological phenomenon known as the Uncanny Valley. Ash knew he just had to get to know her better for this to go away, as a matter of logic. But sometimes the eyes of an older, intimidating man stared at him when he looked at Thalia. And sometimes the words of a woman, to which he gave mercy at the end of a rifle, poured out of her mouth.

Seemingly at the last minute, a final arrival showed himself. Nigel, the Roman guy. Not that Roman Guy was the most flattering callsign, but none of the ones Ash was ever saddled with were anything he wanted to keep, himself. His presence made five. Himself, Tati, Wayne, Thalia, and now Nigel. One number over once-standard minimum preferred for small unit tactics. He nodded to the man then stood quietly while Maddoc went through his speech.

The speech sounded a lot like the standard practical field trial speeches in which he was involved in years past, with the ever so small caveat that he would personally kill them if they became troublesome. This made sense. The only surprising part about this little pep talk was that Hank, of all people, would be taking over for Macsen in the evaluations. The former Sheriff somehow got himself in an advantageous position quickly, from the look of things.

When the bus arrived, Ash filed in and gave brief but polite recognition to the Major, Hank, and Atticus. He then took a seat near to the middle. It would hopefully give him the best vantage for hearing conversation among the passengers as well as carity when receiving instruction from those in charge. And being able to help with the exits, both top and rear, in case of an emergency. After the others arrived, Ash couldn't help but notice that Nigel had mentioned his name. It was talk about him, but not actually to him. Ash declined to throw in his two cents, content to give a polite smile and return to looking about his surroundings. He wasn't wrong in the classical sense - Ash did know his way around pistols and long guns, but he didn't consider himself a specialist. Just one of many who took training in the United States Army and had a rural background which involved hunting. A sniper he was not.

Looking at the team set up for this outing, Ash was rather pleased. Provided that they could come together as a team, this looked positive. He knew what Tati could do and trusted her with his life above anyone else there. Wayne was a wild card but a decent man from what he had heard; a former Detective with good instincts. Nigel was an educated man with a solid frame who was good with a long blade, which made him useful. Thalia (if she was willing to be part of a team), was a quiet, skilled agent with a formidable background. Thana trusted her, which was good enough for Ash. This was a good team. They would do fine. They just had to find their point of synergy.

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Thalia Carmichael
Location: P6, Training Grounds -> Bus
Skills: N/A

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"Exchange of fists and swords". Yes, Nigel had just said that to her. It seemed a little strange that a grown man spoke in the same manner as an English stage actor portraying a Roman Legionnaire, but considering that she had a brother who quoted Shakespeare and/or just said Shakespearean-esque things when asking her if she had an extra roll of toilet paper, this was actually preferable. Hindsight was a thing.

"But for sooth, daughter of our father, wouldst that thy mercy open the way for a hand's grasp of the cylinder-wrapped squares of sanitary deliverance, to slake the septic yawping of mine lower splat-trumpet," or some such bullshit. She didn't remember but it sounded close enough. Or she might have added things in her head. Whatever. Thalia translated English to English and dealt with it.

Thalia filed onto the bus with everyone else. She wasn't especially happy with how close everyone was in the meantime and probably never would be, but this was the life she signed up for. Soldering, or something like it. She recalled the speech that Maddoc gave them, about being tested and the promise of getting killed if they put the rest of the group in danger. Soooo, to her this was every god damned day outside of the walls. If some jackass was about to get you killed, you killed them first. Quietly. Neatly. Then moved on. Things made more sense out on the world sometimes. But no, Thalia wasn't about to "go rogue" or anything remotely that stupid. She used to be a Lone Wolf type. Reality and the influence of friends made her revise this, and it was probably why she was still alive today.

She took the seat across from Tatiana and gave her a nod not unlike the one she had received from her just before entering the bus. If she wanted to talk quietly, Thalia could move over there with her, or get up close to the aisle like back in escuela secundaria. Then she then tried to take note of as many details as possible in this bus - exits, number of people, status of windows, etc.; details that might be important if she had to leave quickly or cover someone else's exit. Her mildly paranoid security rituals and momentary reflection of recent hindsight completed, Thalia looked up to Nigel to respond to his conversation opener. For the fists and swords portion, she wordlessly grunted an quiet, "Nnn," and tilted her head slightly. Concerning the firearms query and Ash's possible proficiency thereof, she kept her words short. "I'm glad someone is. I gaht to relearn stances and reloading for one hand. Naht there yet." It wasn't wholly accurate. She wasn't hopeless, nor even bad. She wasn't at the level she was before losing a hand, and that was irritating her immensely. Like the off and on pain she was feeling at hurting herself with a toothbrush that morning. That was embarrassing. Realizing she was being a downer, and no one needed to come down on a test day, she reasoned (though in darker tones), "We're a group, right? Cover each other's asses. Only way we survive." In theory, anyway.

Elsewhere in the bus, two things happened. Firstly, Ash was rather pleased to hear that Thalia was embracing the idea of the unit rather than the individual. Again, he did not comment. Observation was enough. Secondly, Hank looked over to his hetero-lifemate Wayne and gave a tight-lipped smile. he nodded his head and gave a reassuring, "Hey, my man," in greeting. In truth, he was a little worried about Wayne for this test. There was brimming confidence that he'd be capable of physically passing them, but he also remembered the guy running off into a group of Dead Assholes when it wasn't necessary just to kill as many as possible. There were others nearby that, admittedly, he wanted to protect, but they didn't know how capable (or even ethical) these people were, having just met them. Hank also remembered several times feeling the need to run into danger after him to make sure he was okay. The older man didn't say anything more right then. But he did hope that their time in CMB's care helped even him out some. This was his best friend, after all. And Wayne could accomplish so much good if given a chance.
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Ash Holloway
Location: P6, empty lot next to Enlisted Housing (O)
Skills: N/A

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In a stark contrast to the last few years, Ashton's life was idyllic. Not to mean ideal, as not being in the state of existential perfection. That might have been impossible even in the years preceding dead folks eating live ones. But idyllic, as his present life inspired a level of contentment and simplicity that Ash honestly did not think he would experience again. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that it would not last forever. Things never did. This was life now. It didn't mean that he would let this inevitability ruin things.

Ash wasn't in charge now, but he did have responsibilities he took seriously. It felt good to more actively ply his skills on a more personal, manual level. There were things which he would always be - distiller, engineer, soldier - though in this instance his experience as a mechanic were called into service. There was even a sense of satisfaction meeting up with Thana after her duties or at mealtimes, streaked with an errant line of grease he had somehow neglected to remove. Simple things. Small things. Things which were worthwhile. Ash was in the best mental health and frame of mind that he had been in for a long while. Having love, purpose, friends and those which he considered family (bloodlines be damned) was highly fulfilling for the grizzled, erstwhile Captain.

The people of CMB even managed to locate and return his Hordebuster, be it in a state of mild disrepair from the bullet holes and almost year of neglect in the elements. One could tell that it needed some love even besides the cracked engine block which was impossible to repair without a facility (or a lot of time that they simply didn't have). Ash had regretted abandoning it. His people were more important. All the same, it was like being reunited with a family member. The Holloways had owned the vehicle since well before the Outbreak, where it served their business needs well, running fine distilled products of ancestral recipe and serving as a home away from home on long hauls. It had immense sentimental value. Certain that he would never see it again, Ash had removed the gear shift knob and carried it with him ever since. It was no surprise that Ash, upon seeing its careworn, utilitarian blue form entering Mexico Beach, he immediately made a dash for his quarters. Ash snatched the knob from its resting place therein and took off at a run, determined to place it where it belonged. If the leadership of CMB did this for the purpose of solidifying Ash's loyalty to the community, they succeeded. Not like they needed to. This was gravy on top. Ash had his Hordebuster back. It even still bore the name "Holloway" on the sides.

Between his appointed tasks, overhauls, maintenance, etc., for CMB's fleet of vehicles, he took to making little repairs and improvements to the Hordebuster, sanctioned, of course. It could be argued that after fixing an engine block everything was a little repair. In this case, touching up paint or knocking out dents, sanding out oxidation and treating it with priming compounds, replacing the seal around the cab's roof hatch, re-establishing base rainwater collection, reinforcing the massive, road-clearing wedge on the front, etc. Small things. Ash wasn't sure if it counted as extra work hours so far as his superiors were concerned, but he really didn't care. So long as his work got done and he had time with Thana, life was good. There was much that he wanted to do. CMB's resources were objectively put to better use in other areas.

One such area was the construction of a (dare he imagine it?) third vehicle, spawned from the original specifications of his Hordebuster. The first such truck was constructed out of necessity, made to save lives and get a convoy of people out of a bad situation. THE Hordebuster. The second was built by CMB based off of his designs which were recovered from the ruins of Newnan. This would be a third vehicle, built for the specific purpose of being bigger, nastier, and more painful. This was not a home, like the original. This was not a supply vehicle. No, this was supposed to be a instrument of intimidation and power; one for which he was asked to be on the build team. Suffice it to say, Ash had ideas. He also had questions.

"Scratch build or existing vehicle modification?" He gathered various drawing utensils and paper lay them down on a large, flat space. Engineering specs were kind of his thing.

"Fire engine base is ideal. Most powerful diesel engine shy of a tank, civilian use. Decent fuel economy, too." He might be able to do something with a personnel transport truck, owing to a greater amount of off-road capability. He kept designing, scribbling notes on margins, and the like. Ash knew that he wasn't in charge of this build, but he was a valuable source of information about the concept and wished to present various possibilities. But one might be able to discern from his very "engineer-y" handwriting a selection of footnotes, including optimal vehicles which did not require a ground-up build:

"M728 Combat Engineer Vehicle, mine plow,"
"M1132 Engineer Squad Vehicle, front blade, dragging trailer,"
"Engineering Purposed Abrams, breach configuration,"
"Terrier Combat Tractor, excavator model, extended track base,"
"Belaz 75710, exterior modification,"

It was a wishlist. It couldn't be anything else. That didn't stop him from wishing, though. Additional designs were in draft form, stacked, with rough notations. Pros, cons, availability of parts, fuel options, and many more considerations were committed to paper. More realistic to his estimation, they were mainly variations of semi-truck and fire engine builds. From the speed of which he was able to put these designs out and the detail presented, one could tell that he had been thinking about this for a long time. He showed his notes, all of them, to both Rosie and Mizrahi, also outlining his full thoughts on the matter. Ash was a Combat Engineer. He was handed requests or obstacles, and gave back practical methods of overcoming them. Then he moved to execute said methods when cleared to do so.

Whatever build they went for, be it one of his or another applicable design from another source, Ash delved into it wholeheartedly.

*****

That morning, Ash smiled briefly to the instantly warming sensation of Thana giving him a kiss. In a different life, such fraternization might have led to very negative consequences in their careers. It was a silver lining of the apocalypse, he supposed, that two military professionals could have an active personal life in addition to their assigned responsibilities. And he did have his own duties to perform. The thought that the would be available for each other that evening just gave him something to look forward to. Ash looked about the room as he more hastily wolfed down what remained of his meal, taking note of the people present. This was his new home.

Ash's presence in Transportation been covered, owing to his plans to take a military position within the community. He had taken part in the requirements thusfar and was determined to see it through, regain his rank in the eyes of CMB, and continue serving in the manner he intended to when he took his oath, years ago.

After he bused his tray and walked outside of the Mess Hall, it momentarily occurred to Ash that he had a birthday in a couple of weeks. He felt it was odd that it crept up on him like that. Priorities had a way of shifting. He dismissed it with a head shake and started off at a jog, moving away from where the vast majority of everyone else was headed. It was a short time later when he found himself in front of Enlisted Housing. Ash slowed to a walk and crossed the road. Wayne was there, commonly known to him as the big fellow who sees imaginary things. To each their own, he supposed, as long as Wayne wasn't a threat.

But Wayne wasn't the person he was here to see. Ash crossed the ground, giving the guy a courteous nod in greeting, and continued on to Maddoc. Ash gave him an appropriate salute, given the circumstances, and gave an almost protocol declaration of, "Ashton Holloway. Reporting for military review, sir." He was sure that the formalities weren't necessary, but he wanted the right foot to be put forward. After anything resembling confirmation of his presence, Ash mentioned, "I'm interested to sign on for teams later on, sir. Commitments just now." It might or might not have been common knowledge that he was part of the massive build team working out of Transportation. Likely that, even if it was restricted knowledge, this guy would know anyway. "Though I stand ready if called upon." The last part trailed out with more of his Virginian accent than he had intended.



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Thalia Carmichael
Location: P6, empty lot next to Enlisted Housing (O)
Skills: N/A

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Thalia's life, on the other hand, was neither ideal nor idyllic. The sudden increase of people around her on a daily basis served to make her feel more isolated. Much of that was her fault. Thalia had a tendency to pull away from crowds of people unless she was using the crowd to camouflage her movements. This, combined with the situation that these people were getting lives of their own now, no longer relying on each other for basic survival, her feelings of usefulness were starting to plummet. Out there, beyond the walls, she had a clearer (if grimmer) purpose. Then again, she also had two working hands for most of that time. Thalia had worn away much of her social skills, what few she possessed in the first place, out in the world scrambling to keep herself fed and sheltered with highly primitive means. Like everyone else, Thalia had killed to survive. Unlike them, she was certain that she was a killer. The distinction there was important. She had remained in CMB because she needed to. Moreover, it was made crystal clear to Thalia that CMB did not need her in the slightest. It also didn't help matters that the one person with whom she made a physical connection had abandoned her, for no reason other than she didn't want to bother trying to live there. Even temporarily.

These realizations didn't come all at once, either. It slowly crept into her soul over the first couple of weeks after Hunter's trial. Having extended down time wherein she didn't have to cover her own ass or the collective asses of her team gave her painful time to turn her thoughts inward. Did she prefer to be alone because it was easier? Better yet, did she deserve to be around people in the first place? Thalia was certain that yes, she was a killer. She did so without remorse during nor with regret later. Nurtured toward this sense of moral ambiguity from the age of ten. It made her strong, yes, but at what cost? Was her soul truly damaged? Was this what others saw when they looked at her? Did this actually bother her, or was it her disconnection from it all? For mercy's sake, she claimed to follow Catholicism but put prayers to a cultural folk saint that was the colorful embodiment of Death. Thalia worshiped Death. Had killed in the name of revenge and cleansing the world of human filth with Dama de la Muerte's mark painted across her face.

Thalia stayed because she was weak. She was sure of this now.

Lucky for her, Thalia possessed the barest sense of introspection that let her know that she was damaged somehow. Her mind wasn't right. While she had no requirement to attend therapy sessions, it was a good idea if she did. Weekly group meetings had open attendance, and damnit, she was going to attend. Maybe she wouldn't share everything, and she shared absolutely nothing the first few of them, but eventually she started to talk. Some of the things she said were shocking. Every time she spoke, Thalia did so with the idea that this might get her restricted in the community or kicked out altogether. And maybe part of her was even aiming for exactly that conclusion. But they never did toss her out.

This did not mean that she didn't participate in some more colorful and benign forms of self-destructive behavior. When she found out that someone in Camp Mexico Beach was a decent enough artist and had access to tattooing equipment, she pulled a few extra hours every now and again to trade out for some ink. Her body was scarred up enough as it was. A little voluntary decoration wouldn't hurt matters any. Like many people who got bitten by the tat bug, she didn't stop at just one.

Owing to a secret like of My Little Pony from when she was a small child (which she might or might not take to the grave), she got her hips tatted with a cutie mark of a black dahlia flower. A flower which marked permanence, commitment, and honesty, yet also carried with it negative connotations including the promise of eventual death. Certain folk tales also described the flower blooming its most beautifully when seeded from a corpse. Also, it was a generous statement to say that they were marked on her hips. Phrasing was important. Thalia's back now bore additional markings as well. Two tattoos were prominently placed, making their way down her shoulder blades; marks which looked very much like she had angelic wings once but they were removed forcibly, leaving the stitched remains of the trauma to attest to her former status. It was an interesting play on the nickname her father had given her. To give more of a thematic image, just below these on the right side was the image of a single feather, inked in such a way as to appear falling from the wounds above.

Yet she did her job. Thalia did so without complaint, or even comment the vast majority of the time. She trained as hard as she could, she took her meals when and where she was directed to, and she kept doing what she did best - surviving in whatever environment she was placed. Thalia continued, if she wasn't sure exactly what the overall purpose was anymore. There were a few interesting spots in the six months since the trial, to be fair. The first such one was from Shears, actually. Thalia had cornered him, having been directed there by the string of notes in some maddening Wild Goose Chase/Worst Scavenger Hunt Ever. This was the last one, and whatever the end result was to be lay in the possession or knowledge of the resident barber. She got her answer. Slowly, carefully, Thalia accepted a cylindrical object and gazed at it for a long moment. Shears had the good sense to begin putting some distance between himself and the uncertain woman in front of him. She didn't notice. In fact, Thalia noticed only two things then. First, it was the object itself. A can. Unswollen, unrusted, but with a little fading on the label, which boldly held the letters spelling out "SpaghettiOs". The other thing she noticed was a note affixed to the back of the can:

I made you work for it.
-Navy

Birds scattered into the skies. Small children looked to the safety of their mothers. The world took in a tense breath and waited for what might happen next as Thalia stood there outside of the Mess Hall and declared, possibly for the first time ever with volume heretofore unobserved in the woman who prided herself on guile, stealth, and a survivalist's mentality, "That ...BITCH!!!" The words echoed from the very walls and brought with it afterward a profound stillness. Thana would get hers. Oh yes, she would get hers. It might take time, but it would be implemented in such a way that, much like Thana, she would not even have to be present to know it happened.

Another interesting event for Thalia during this time was, despite her seemingly oppressively solitary existence, she had made a friend, of sorts - Tatiana. Not that they spoke really. Or at all, most of the time. It was more accurate perhaps to say that they had an understanding wherein they didn't ask much of each other past their presence. The ballet lessons notwithstanding, as Thalia took to this as much as her other physical training. It was nice, though. In fact, this reminded Thalia very much of the relationship between the two older men who came in the same day her group did; two damaged individuals who associated with each other, passing no judgement about the other's level of bent. Tatiana had her own demons. They weren't Thalia's business unless Tati felt like sharing.

Thalia's personal difficulties, while rarely showing up in public except for a tendency to keep to herself, did explode in private. Many an evening she might hypothetically be found ranting to herself, venting frustrations as if she was speaking to someone while alone in her room. The truth of it was that she was addressing the one thing she was allowed to keep upon entering CMB, a yellow rubber duckie in good condition. Thalia would talk to it in a highly accusatory manner, then respond as if it had something pointed to say about it.

"Oh, and don't look at me ahll high and mighty, like you gaht any room to judge. Fucking hypocrite."

"Don't say a fucking word, duck. You didn't even show up until we were almost heah."

"And I'll tell you another gahd damn thing - trying to trip me up at the last minute was a bitch move. Bitch move. You weren't exactly the vision of good decision making, either."

"NO, it was naht for my own good. You don't know what I was doing."

There were evenings where Thalia cried in private. there were other evenings where she seriously contemplated hopping the wall and getting as far away from Mexico Beach as possible. A silly J-pop or J-rock song from an anime, or at least a translation of it, kept popping into her mind. It stuck with her in these months, and sometimes she might be seen humming it as she went along with training or doing her work. The song was "Bad Apple". Thalia didn't particularly like it, but one line among the others made her think: "Will there ever be a place for the broken in the Light?"

Somewhere in her troubled mind, a core of stability remained. She knew that all of these things were long coming, and that she could only hold them back for so long before they had top be addressed. Thalia also knew that, though she was feeling worse, this was a sign that she was getting better. And things did get better. It just took a while.

One of the funniest things that she experienced during those months was when she was selected to be part of Safety. They sent her to the armory and had her pick out a firearm, as duties required it. All of this was happening, and they gave her a gun. They gave her a gun before they gave Thana's Army boyfriend a gun. Before Tati's husband, the former cop. And before Alexander, another soldier who seemed to be in good with the man who ran this camp. To her, this was goddamned hilarious. They had more faith in her than she had in herself right then. But even this was changing. CMB was right to wait. Thalia had a lot of stuff to process. When the time came, she chose a reliable 9mm with good ammo capacity that she could operate with one hand. She had even refined her system for one handed reloading and chambering. It still wasn't as fast as having two working hands, but it was pretty impressive nonetheless.

She was still a girl who appreciated melee stabbing as a preference, if she had her druthers on the subject. This led her over to Tesla during a free moment, where the conversation was short and open-ended, culminating in a request. "You ever watch Fullmetal Alchemist?" The raise of her prosthetic to emphasize her point was a granted gesture. "Tahlk later, okay?" An attachment of the sort would help turn her liability into an asset for the community. This is what Thalia was good for. She might as well own it and be the best she could be. Now that she was on Safety, there was cause.

There was another benefit to being assigned to Safety, and that was her trainer. Now, nothing came of anything to date, but it was interesting as hell to Thalia that Roy was stuck showing her the ropes. Did he request the assignment, or was this just the whim of the dice, as it were? Her brother Joaquin might have just as easily trained her. But no, the guy who she had sized up like she was appraising a steak when she first came to town is now assigned to her, in a supervisory capacity. Again, nothing came of this at first, seeing as she was much more of a mess, but as things began to stabilize, she did finally decide it was a good time to say something. Her extremely direct nature probably worked against her here. With a neutral, almost annoyed tone and a look that was as much inquisitive as anything, Thalia addressed Roy. She waited for an opportunity away from other people.

"Look, I'm naht good at flirting." Admit limitations. Good start. Continue. "And I sure as hell don't want commitment." Ah, a bold, declarative statement to show assertiveness. Capital idea. "But if you'ah interested, and discreet, I'm available." Thalia narrowed her eyes and studied any reaction he might have, tilting her head slightly to one side as if to size him up again. After a moment, she focused on the job at hand. "Ahright, let's get back to it. Station check?" Thalia's actions following were as if she hadn't said anything at all. But she had. It hung in the air, waiting. Overbearing, even.

Eventually, as weeks rolled into months and seasons passed, the darkened Angel got a better bearing of herself. She did not miraculously change the core of her being. That core kept her alive. This was realization and acceptance on a fuller scale. Thalia continued to go to group therapy when she didn't have other things which were more pressing. It was helping. She was getting better.

*****

Thalia and Tatiana had grown to have similarities. Which one of them started in CMB with the traits originally was up for grabs. Regardless, the two of them sat that morning, consuming their meal and keeping an eye on the people around them. Tati's stare might have been to make observations about the people, but Thalia's intent was the same as it usually was, plotting for unspeakable and highly improbable contingencies which generally involved the hypothetical application of violence. Thalia was eating a little slower than she usually did that day, due to some dental issues. Her teeth were fine enough; the issue involved the painful truth that there were some tasks that her left hand simply hadn't adapted to. Put a short blade in her hand and she was fine. A pistol, too. Much of her early training was broad in nature, allowing her to establish a form of weapon ambidexterity common to practitioners of the stabby arts. Adapting to that was not a big issue. But ask her to write something, or in this instance brush her teeth? One unexplained noise on the outside of the window and a head turn later, you'd think she tried to commit suicide with a dental hygiene implement and some baking soda. She might have laughed, but, ow.

The two women still didn't feel the need to say much to one another. Thalia knew where she was going after breakfast, and she was going there with mostly the same intent as Tatiana. The roguish Miss Carmichael figured that she could do more good for herself and Mexico Beach going on runs outside of the walls. Moreover, she needed to step things up by enlisting in their military program. Thalia was not a ready and experienced leader. It just wasn't her. Being given some freedom of movement with goals to accomplish and a wide margin to implement said goals was more her speed. Small unit tactics, mobility, quiet work; these were her strengths. She might make a fine Specialist, Corporal, or even Sergeant sooner or later, but that was it. Hopefully, the people in charge would feel the same way.

After busing her tray, Thalia looked to Tati and nodded her head in the general direction of Enlisted Housing. More specifically, she intended the lot to one side of it. Thalia's day was open past this as she was working the night shift at the Jail, so if she was lucky she could get whatever needed to be done here handled and grab a nap before reporting in. She would know better if this was a possibility only after this was underway, and so made her way from the Mess Hall, up the street, and over to the empty lot to speak to Maddoc.

Thalia expected to see Ashton there. And she knew she was reporting to Navy's uncle to sign up. What surprised her was Wayne. Sure. Why not? Thalia had cleared a lot of cobwebs out over the last six months, why not him, too? All the same, she did retain a healthy amount of reservation and kept her opinion (and potential options) open until information led her in a specific direction about the man. Well, Thalia wasn't here to make personal critiques, she reasoned. Giving her friend a nod, she blew out a breath and walked up to Maddoc. Best to get this done and see what happened after. "Signing for both." It was a simple statement. Military review and teams for assignments outside of the walls. It was time to start pulling that weight.
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Ash Holloway
Location: Education Center (M)
Skills: N/A

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Maybe Thana didn't realize it, but she had generally agreed with Ash's synopsis of executions, public or otherwise. He smiled to her when she gave the terms upon which she would inert a bullet into the back of his head. Or the front, whichever worked best. But mostly, his smile was because he heard her mention aloud and in public that she loved him. Even if it was followed up by threat of imminent death. "If I intentionally screwed over the community, then my execution would have a practical purpose. If you handled it, it'd also be one hell of a symbol," he remarked, referencing what he had said just earlier.

There was an element of pride that Thana likewise took community over individual, objectively speaking. Ash was positive that he would have a harder time making the same call if it came to a question of Thana over Camp Mexico Beach. He suspected that Thana's own objectivity would have her partaking in a heaping spoonful of self-sacrifice in the event of this and Ash would have to go along, respecting her wishes on the matter. It didn't make the idea any easier to swallow. But like she said, this was if she broke the trust of the people. In whatever hypothetical scenario this occurred, a lingering shadow remained in the back of Ash's psyche of the intertwined dichotomy of Ash as a man and Ash as a soldier. That separation which sometimes spoke to him and kept him alive, and on task. He could be just as objective. It was a curse and a blessing.

Ash rose as Thana rose and nodded to Nigel as he left. It looked like the man was mulling over events and he couldn't blame the guy. He glanced to Thana as she popped her neck, slightly impressed at the demonstration. Like her, Ash did not agree with the decision and like her, he was going to continue along without disrupting anything. He agreed to live by the rulings of this community and he would do just that, until he or they decided that he wasn't suited to remain. It would be a shame either way as Ash had fought hard to get here, and to Thana. This is where he wanted to be. Moreover, he genuinely wanted to be an active, involved part of this community. He was a soldier, officer, and engineer, and remembered very clearly the words spoken to him about involvement in their administration, so long as he worked toward it and the governing body gave a nod. He'd do his part and make himself useful.

"I love you too, Thawna," Ash said in a direct, optimistic manner, responding to the beginning of her sentence which ended in his brains being hypothetically sprayed across the landscape. His Virginian twang sounded more than he realized as it was coming out.

Ash watched Hunter being led away and breathed out a sigh. Ash hoped that this was going to work out okay, even so far as to pose the hypothetical question of whether there was something he could do to help him. Or even if that was appropriate. Maybe he'd see in six months. When the door closed behind the security detail transporting Hunter, Ash looked back to Thana. "Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me?" It was time to move on. It was also time to clock out, as much as anyone really could anymore. Ash had a feeling that the next six months in civilization would change them almost as much as the last year and a half out in the world had.

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Thalia Carmichael
Location: Mess Hall
Skills: N/A

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Let it never be said that Thalia's decision to attempt socialization was a good one. Ever. Granted, her initial approach was less than stellar for making friends, and this might even be the last time that she would give it the "old college try" for at least six months, she figured, barring something significant. It was a conservative estimate, to her thoughts. In any case, this had to have been one of the stranger personal interactions since coming into town.

To recap: From Thalia's point of view, she got a rousing success being quiet and sneaky, making her way through an occupied room with open lighting undetected. She needed that boost to her confidence. Something about losing more of her arm than with which she was comfortable, having skills which came naturally to her get backtracked a decade or so, getting abandoned by the one person she let herself get close to physically in a few years, and finally make an utter fool of herself in the Education Center's theater, was making her feel measurably less-than-useful and a little vulnerable. So, making friends seemed in order. Or at least opening a casual dialogue with someone with no expectations past it. Thalia's social skills were never great. Even at her best, she was a tool to be pointed in a direction that didn't have enough fear or chaos in it and/or had an overabundance of breathing people, all of which she stood a good chance of being rectified by her presence. So walking up to practical strangers and saying, "Hi," was kind of a big deal for her. Was she actually feeling lonely? That might have been odd.

What she got was a rather generic yet completely acceptable conversation opener about staring at a lesbian couple and someone's favorite animal. This sounded like it was begging for context and was, again to Thalia's thinking, pretty damn grade-school vanilla. It could be worse. Still willing to work with it. Guy made the corner of her mouth twist to a smile. She took the ninja comment as a compliment. It was something she was shooting for. Thalia even responded to Lisa's question, not giving much thought to the free and easy reference of The Great Fuck Hunt. "Yah, doing great." A little gruff. Conversationally, she was definitely not in her element. But maybe this was how people spoke who weren't eternally in some life or death drama. Though Thalia felt out of place, she told herself that she would adjust. Like a normal person. She shoved the other half of her sandwich in her mouth and destroyed it a little too efficiently to be a novice at the craft. It didn't even have time to scream for help, if it had the ability to do so. She then turned her voracious attentions to whatever remained as whatever conversation was going to develop, developed.

Mid-chew, Thalia stopped and began to stare at Lisa, who had taken the nigh wholesome if a but simple conversation and squeezed it through some kind of a singles-club wringer. Seconds. Literally seconds later; few enough for her to count on one hand (which was convenient as she only had the one), Lisa began eye-humping Guy and making what sounded like open flirtations to him. Thalia knew that look. She gave it to Roy not too long ago. Just a quick sizing up to make him a little nervous. Maybe think about things. He was one of a few to whom she might give consideration, so far as pure stress relief was concerned. In any case, Thalia was staring at Lisa with mild incredulity. The sudden conversational schizophrenia was effective in making her a fifth wheel and she was already done with it. Her hand felt around on her tray, settling on the metal fork thereupon.

Eyes on Lisa, Thalia intentionally hucked the fork onto the floor a few meters away. With deadpan sarcasm, she declared, "Oops. I seem to have dropped my fork. Excuse me." She grabbed up her tray, locking the edge of it down in her metal prosthesis and noped the hell away from the table, pausing only long enough to snatch up her fork from the floor. Thalia didn't look back.

After busing her tray, Thalia made solidly for the door. She thought she might still have time to get back to the Education Center before judgement was passed. Unfortunately, she caught sight of a number of people who were previously there making their way to the Mess Hall. Well, she'd just find out what happened with everybody else. Right then, catching sight of Shears making his way up for supper, Thalia suddenly had bigger fish to fry. She very unsubtly made her way over to the man, stepping around the occasional person like an obstacle to he dodged until she was right in front of the man. A quick, regarding head tilt later, she spoke to him with a sense of directness, "Hey Sheahs. You got something for me." It was not a question, and it was not phrased like one. Whether this was the end of the clue hunt or just another step, Shears was in her sights. The game continued.
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