Old wooden walls rise up from the east bank of the Mississippi, fifteen to twenty feet high depending on the depth of the landscape the fort is built upon. The logs lining the top of the wall are sharpened into points, and nothing inside is immediately visible other than a lone watchtower slightly above the ramparts itself.

Surrounded by water on one side and open ground on the others, Fort Dixie was a strategic point during the Civil War. Now instead of a tourist attraction it has been turned into a Fortress and Trading Post for wayward survivors.
Open grassland the length of a few hundred yards north,  west and south eventually reach the forest of the Fort's National Park, a boundary where Fort Dixie holds no power. The only gap through the woods is a paved road, winding out of view and leading off to the rest of the national park and the highway several miles away.

An empty dock sits along the bank nearest the Fort, with rough wooden steps overgrown with brush leading up the slope from river to flat open ground just outside the fort.

Inside is an old military layout complete with cabin and hovel lodgins, a dilapidated mess hall as well as what were once senior officer's headquarters. The watchtower sits near the center of the little settlement overseeing the river and the open territory.

Outside the fort walls is a ditch a couple meters deep. Once the ditch was bare, but now has been filled with large crudely sharpened spikes as a defensive measure. Undead at any given time find themselves impaled upon the devices as they wander into the area, following the voices or sights of the living inside. These spikes seem incomplete, with some areas of the ditch ceding open turf.
The only visible entry into Fort Dixie is a tall gate, heavy and formidable, it is wide enough to allow vehicle entry.

*****this thread will be one of a few Fort threads. For our purposes this thread in particular will be used for activity in the EXTERIOR parts of the fort. That is; character interactions/events taking place in the courtyard of the fort, the ramparts, any alleys or open spaces up to and including the immediate outside area of the fort proper.*******

visuals to guide an idea of the Fort; not exact representations but general idea;



This message was last edited by the GM at 08:18, Sun 09 Feb 2014.

TIME BUMP

Setting: Outside the walls of Fort Dixie.
Time: Evening, its getting dark but daylight still lingers.
Weather: Warm, but not as warm as has been the usual..

------

Using their riverboat the Caravan had found a drop off point along the riverbank where they could decide their next destination. With no vehicles besides the boat they split off into two groups; one would go on to gather vehicles from their last camp in addition to weapons and whatever food or other useful supplies they could bring. The other group of weaker individuals remained on the boat, lingering anchored in the river off the bank for some semblance of safety from possible walkers.

After some time they met up again to continue on to the only place nearby that held apparently security.

Traversing the Civil War National Park road that wove through ominous forest, they found themselves pulled up in front of Fort Dixie. Approaching slowly after appearing in the open ground surrounding the old fortification to make their presence known and show they weren't up to anything.

People of different ages, genders and ethnicity began to appear in force upon the ramparts of the Fort, their heads peaking above sharpened logs that marked the top of the battlements. A few people held torches to ward off the impending black of the encroaching night. Due to the angle it wasn't clear if any weapons were being held by the people occupying the heights.

They watched carefully as the small Caravan of vehicles made their way and parked a respectable distance from the huge wooden doors barring entry.

The group massed on the ramparts began to stir anxiously and whisper among themselves as a huey chopper arrived on scene, propelling above the Fort and the Caravan both before descending into the field near the Caravan.

Bewildered but undaunted, the Fort occupants shuffled positions, a few rifles appearing among the defenders.
Tension rippled through the camp before finally someone stepped up to speak...

An darker skinned man stepped up to the highest point of the battlements above the heavy doors of the Fort. He was dressed as ragtag as the rest of the Fort dwellers (from what could be seen from outside and below the walls), he was relatively average in appearance but for his dark eyes which had a spark of some awareness, intelligence, what have you. His status was most of all apparent from how the Fort dwellers waited on him to do something. Clearly he was in charge though he was not physically imposing.

"State your business and we'll state ours.. And what's with the chopper? You might have attracted walkers this way." He spoke simply, trying to gauge the strangers. Some of them looked rough and ready while others looked just rough.

"Because its better than walking" Dominic replied stonily from where he was leant against the nose of the Huey, the pair of handguns plainly visible for all to see "...and since we're the ones outside of the walls let us worry about that, D'accord?" he'd almost welcome some Zed's right about now, something to take his anger and self pity out on, hell they may even kill him and solve all of his problems.
He'd buried Sierra at the edge of a field whilst the others had gone about recovering vehicles and supplies. Come summer the place would be covered in wild flowers, hiding the stone marker on which he'd scribbled her name using a black marker pen, not the best of headstones but better than most got these days.
Once the task of burying his dead friend had been completed he had rejoined his few remaining friends in the caravan; piloting the helicopter to the fort even if the guy on the wall didn't seem to appreciate it.

Lyle parked his old Buick near the front of the group, the man had a point about drawing in the geeks with the noise. He wanted to put in his two cents about why the caravan was doing here but Lyle hadn't the idea. He wanted to go ahead and skip this place if he could, but the group needed the supplies and this was better than scavenging the forest. So he stayed inside his car and waited on Cookie or that biker guy to do the talking.

He looked around the group, not much of them are left. It was surprising to how much actually made it, without so much as a scratch. Lyle was glad the real leaders were here again, he doesn't know if could handle the stress.

Looking around still Lyle's eyes latch onto a familiar face. It was that guy from the office building, the one who interrogated him and took the little girl away. 'why the hell is that bastard here!?' Lyle clinched his knuckles. He wasn't about to start a scene, not right now. He'll have to wait until the two of them are alone.

"Hey, you !"  Cookie said, having gotten the big boat to chug to a stop.  Snark she did not need.  Hands on hips, she said, her voice carrying, "Some MANNERS, maybe ?  They come even without the noise, you know that by now.  This is the Caravan.  I am Cookie.  We would like to talk to you like civilised people."

Bohannon cautiously approached the gates on foot. He had ridden the boat down the river, having lost his Bronco back in St. Louis. The Bronco that was bought from this place, supposedly. He was close. Bohannon was soaked in blood and sweat and quite frankly he looked awful. He carried across his back the duffel of guns and ammo and his own Winchester over his shoulder. On his hip was as always his faithful old Colt Peacemaker.

As Cookie and Dominic began the conference with the man on the wall, Bohannon hung his head and leaned against a nearby vehicle. He said under his breath "Oh sure, piss him off..." This worried the cowboy. He had never been this close to finding him since what happened back in Nashville. He couldn't let Cookie ruin this chance. But he had to play it cool. Bohannon crept up close to Cookie and whispered to her "Don't screw this up, Jersey. We need to get in there, or we're gonna die out here. We're running out of food. Supplies are dwindling. And we're short of people. We won't survive the season out here, we need to get in there." The cowboy eyed the fort's great walls. Getting inside was a real shot at survival, and his only shot at revenge. But were the two mutually exclusive...?

Kaidan stood next to his mother as he watched the New Jersey woman and the French man speak with the guy in the Fort. He munched the last of a bag of peanuts he stole from the riverboat and pocketed the empty wrapper. Kaidan was well dressed, considering the end of the world and all. He wore a grey cardigan, a collared shirt and a pair of good skinny jeans. His dark hair, formerly well kept, was now over grown and beginning to fall in his eyes. He swept his hair aside as he looked around the group. There were the people he had lead out of the building back in St. Louis; Lyle, Justin, the older boy with the floppy hair. And the others, who had come to rescue them. Kaidan hadn't yet met everyone, and certainly didn't know all of their names. As he looked around at the people around him, he remembered the item in his pocket. Kaidan slipped his hand inside the pocket and fingered the device. He wanted to return it to it's owner, but could not sum up the courage to go and talk to them. The teen had become distracted with his own thoughts and didn't realize that he was staring awkwardly at New Mexico.

In reply to Benson Bohannon (msg # 7):

"And YOU think you're the one to caution ME," Cookie growled at Bohannon in an undertone - the zombie-baiting goof that he was.  She returned her gaze to the rude man on the fort, then did the peaceful hands-open-I'm-explaining gesture, a sweet smile upon her face. "Sorry - we went through a lot to get here, and one of us does need some medical care, can you please see your way clear to helping us out ?  As humans speaking to humans, in the land of the dead ?"   

The dark skinned man with the high ground surveyed the group as they spoke amongst one another. He caught a few words but some of them were inaudible. It was clear the group had been through hell but they weren't those other people in the forest across the field. They weren't that clever, he hoped.

Toby didn't need any trouble, but then again he was knee-deep in dealing with the hostile group already harassing the Fort. Tim had gone missing several hours past with no word. My People might not like it, but maybe this group knows something about Tim. They made it through the park road, but maybe they had to deal with the bandits. He thought quickly.


It was all about trying to gauge if any trouble would come from allowing new people to stay, albeit for the short to medium term. He already had troublemakers in his own ranks, but granted they had their uses. These strangers seemed more grit than dead weight judging from their scant numbers. He could definitely use extra fighters for a campaign against the others.

His eyes drifted between each of them as they spoke before addressing them, Cookie's last words having been enough for him to decide.
"For sure, you all can come in. We have a doctor of sorts to help out, we'll need you all to go through a check for bites. You can remain armed for now, but any trouble and they'll be confiscated, and if there's any violence you're out of here. You control your people, I'll control mine. Any trouble between our groups and we work it out all civil, alright?"

His tone was more neutral at this point than critical now that he could see some value in the strangers and felt they were normal enough not to disturb the peace within the fort, however tentative it was.

"Open the gates." He ordered to unseen individuals who promptly stepped up to do so.
"I'm Toby, by the way. Bill will explain the run of things here and set you up with shelter and food." One of his companions lifted a torch to reveal Toby's features as night crept up on them all.
"Oh and we have a makeshift shower to clean up your group. Its cold of course but it works. When you're all settled I need talk to you some more."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:29, Sun 16 Feb 2014.

Anne-Marie stood near the entrance to the Fort as the doors opened up. She wore some rough looking casual clothes, functional but difficult to keep clean. The former flight attendant turned undead-fighter had been a transition but she'd managed to this point with the luck of establishing herself in a good spot with a few good people (but not enough).

Putting on as welcoming a smile as she could to strangers, she prepared to greet them along with a large crowd of the many other inhabitants of Fort Dixie.
Holding a big canteen of cold water she would offer it to the newcomers. She hoped to make new allies if these people weren't fucked up like the people in the woods just across the fields.

"Hey people, water here on the house, courtesy of the Mississippi."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:06, Sun 16 Feb 2014.

She had viewed the new group as they had made their way over to the Fort, making no pretense of their arrival. That was fortunate, for it told them the intentions were not malevolent. As for any deceit at play, Loa felt it was unlikely.

After watching Toby watch the strangers close the distance she could tell already he was probably going to let them in. She didn't dabble in politics but she knew what the problems were for the Fort, and that they needed new talent. She didn't refer to new survivors as 'fresh meat' like some did. It just wasn't right.

"Bill hun? Before you take them I need to check their wounds." She told the old former lawman in her kindly tone. Toby had told her he appreciated her way of dealing with people, it calmed them. Calm was something they all needed.

She had a couple of helpers, two middle aged women who had some form of experience in assisting the weak or wounded. One held a bucket of water while another held a first aid kit.

With the new group entering, she quickly wet a cloth in her colleagues bucket, wrenching the excess water from it so as to be ready. She anticipated having to clean these people up a little to check for bites before they could go any further through the Fort. She out on a sweet disarming smile that did not disrespect the grim tone of the days they all now lived in.

In reply to Lyle Carranza (msg # 5):

Hector remained silent in his typical way, his dark skin hiding some of the large amount of human and zombie blood adorning his tall form. The moment the helicopter had landed he noticed Vega in tow with Dominic. He remained as aloof as could be, it not being in his style to detract from events despite his intense dislike for the man who tried to kill him, and killed many of his friends.

They'd grappled in the tower, with Hector wrestling a gun from Vega's fingers while almost gutting the man with a combat knife. He wished he'd succeeded, and couldn't have backed up Lyle's position more.

When Lyle spoke up Hector placed a hand that wasn't blood covered on the tense man's shoulder, "It doesn't matter why he's here. We can see he gets what he deserves soon enough. He can't be trusted around our people, or these people."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:14, Sun 16 Feb 2014.

In reply to Kaidan (msg # 8):

The wounded but recovering teenager leaned one of the salvaged vehicles the others had retrieved as the big-wigs deliberated over whether they liked eachother or not. It was like arguing over the sandbox, but he understood the tension. He was just too exhausted to go any farther. This place didn't seem to have any walkers around besides the ones impaled into spikes in the ditch around the outside of the Fort. Some were dead, some were writhing pointlessly. He as sick of being so used to this shit.

Sighing, he glanced between his diminished group, glaring the same daggers at Vega's presence as everyone else, but wanting to believe that Dominic had a good reason for bringing him.

His gaze landed on Kaidan who was awkwardly eye-balling him. The seventeen year old shifted his feet, his muddied and broken shoes revealing a couple of toes on each foot. "What's up bro? Do I have somethin in my teeth?' New Mexico managed a small smirk despite the dull pain in his shoulder he'd gone used to. Maybe Dominic still had some meds or the people in the Fort, if he was lucky.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:52, Sun 16 Feb 2014.

Lyle only nodded to the tall African American, and started his car back up again. He drove it into the fort before doing a three point turn to make it face the exit. If there was a need to make a hasty exit, Lyle's car was ready. He got out of his car and slung his pack onto his back, his fire ax and hunting rifle holster in the pack's ripped side pockets. He the assault rifle from the soldier inside, it was out of ammo and was no use.

Lyle walked up to the woman offering some water. "Thank you. And thank your Leader for me- us. We really needed this rest stop." He took a quick swig from the canteen and swished it in his mouth. The cool clean water felt refreshing. He gave the canteen back after he drank a little more. "Hoo damn. That hits the spot."

"Behave yourself," Cookie said to Bohannon in a firm undertone, then sauntered into the fort at the edge of the pack.  She let the dark ease up and was happy to hear the gates shut.  Night meant it was harder to spot the undead, and she was tired from fighting and running.

And she peaceably submitted to the bite check, but waited for her turn at the shower, letting those worse off than her go first.  Her handbag had a spare tank top in it, so that would do for clothes for now.  She waited for the man from the fort to come looking for her, or at least send a request to speak, and rested, considering what she would say - and she listened.  To the general tone of the fort, the conversations, the body language of the people in it, if that cowboy or some others of the Caravan were causing trouble, she listened very carefully.

Listening to the exchange that went on between the two leaders, Dominic grabs his weapons and gear from the back of the chopper; awkwardly buckling the cavalry sabre about his waist before indicating that Dr. Vega should get walking with a shove.
It was as he was heading towards the gate that he notices the icy looks being directed at his...well...prisoner he supposed the correct term would be "Guess they do know you after all, you'd better hope this place has a stockade" or you're liable to swinging by tea time he silently added without even the barest trace of pity or humour within his mind.
After submitting to the required checks he singles out the woman who appeared to be in charge of those doing the checks and in a calm if somewhat world weary voice asks "Do you guys have a surgery or something here? I could do with checking in with a patient of mine" he said nodding towards NM wanting to see how his wound had fared during his time in captivity "Don't worry I have my own supplies with me I just need somewhere quiet" he continued before any protestations about dwindling supplies could be made, hell if need be he'd trade some of his supplies stashed in the chopper if that was what it took.

A bonfire in the center of the open courtyard lit the grounds of Fort Dixie with warm yellow orange light. A cloud of dust rose up into the night sky as Lyle conducted his three point turn with proficiency within the confines of the Fort walls, and when it settled and the rumble of the engine ceased, Bill wandered into the group as Anne-Marie passed out water and Loa performed the bite checks.

"Good evening, good evening" Bill began to make his way though the Caravan members, offering a hand shake to each one as he spoke. "My name's Bill, and welcome to our Fort. We don't have much here but we call it home. Some of us are from around here, some are wandering travellers like y'all are. Me, I've been here in Lauderdale County oh- I'd say thirty years. I used to be the Sherriff around here." Bill stopped in front of Cookie after greeting the other newcomers. "Pleased to meet you, the name's Bill. You know, I'd bet green money that you hail from the 'Garden State', and I think I'd be right in saying so, on account of your accent. Don't get me wrong, now, I've got nothin' but appreciation in my heart for Northerners. I've always said Northerners, though they lack our Southern hospitality and kindly disposition, are a hard working people who know the meaning of perseverance due to livin' in colder temperatures. Cookie, I've been asked to pass on a message to you, and that is that Toby would like to see you. He's waiting in the office over there."

Bill pointed to a small building separate from the main quarters that in Civil War times would house the commander of the Fort, but now served as the private quarters and administrative headquarters for the Fort Leadership. Next to it was a larger building of the same style that was the Cabin, where the Fort Members slept and kept their personal belongings. On the opposite side of the courtyard was a warehouse that served as an armoury and food storage, and beside it was another Cabin. Bill now pointed over to the second Cabin, which appeared to be unoccupied as there were no lights in inside.

"That there is your Cabin, where you'll be sleeping. Take some time to get settled in, and we'll all have breakfast together in the morning. Tonight, if you need anything don't you hesitate to find me. I'm looking forward to gettin' to know you folks. You're the biggest group of newcomers we've ever had at once."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:56, Mon 17 Feb 2014.

In reply to Lyle Carranza (msg # 15):

Anne-Marie eyed Lyle's ride with some interest, not because of what the vehicle was itself but because of the valuable fuel inside. Any supplies newcomers could bring to trade or to contribute was worthwhile as it meant they did not have to risk any lives to scavenge what would be increasingly bare cupboards up and down the region.

Grinning a little at Lyle as she surveyed his form she accepted the canteen back when he was finished, "And thank you for not being one of the crazies out there." She replied confidently, well practiced at detecting the true intentions of the visitors who came through the gates every month (less and less so after the Bandits showed up). It was one of the reasons that Toby sought her council.

"My name is Anne-Marie, who are you, tough guy?" She offered, raising an eye brow in a humorous way even though there wasn't much to be humored about anymore. It was good to see a new face, and one of someone who looked like they could hold their own and contribute.

"Come over to some light and we can check you for bites and scratches. Its awkward I know, but we can get you cleaned up and fed too." She suggested, sure he'd rather have a woman help him out than any of the men surveying the new crowd. Loa in the corner of her eyes seemed to be helping the European, so she had to make a friend or ally now too.

She gestured towards a covered area of the courtyard where there was a weak fire that could give some light. A few blankets sat on a chair nearby with a pail of water as well as some wash towels.

"So what brings you all out here? You look like you've been through a lot." A-M probed casually as she led him over, if he wanted to follow, that is.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:04, Mon 17 Feb 2014.