Raid Debriefing

A raiding party has been commissioned by the leadership of the Fort in partnership with the leadership of the Caravan. The aims of the raid are to get into face to face contact with Colton Black-Rabbit. He is the native contact to the local tribe, the Fort's lifeline to rare material, food and communication with other established survivor groups the Fort trades with.

Intelligence from a freshly arrived survivors says that Black-Rabbit lies in wait out in the forest, near traditional trade routes. Once the trade route is deemed secure enough the tribe will bring food and other rare supplies to the fort in exchange for useful goods in turn.

The raid is expected to take 1-2 days. Lasting beyond that, Toby has made it clear the group will be considered lost. No rescue group will likely come, so that no further souls are risked.

Reports from Fort scouts and experience from past encounters leads the Fort and Caravan to anticipate trouble along the way. Not only is there purportedly a hostile survivor group in the area, there are random travellers streaming through the region to get to warmer parts of the country before Fall ends. This also means that larger herds of the undead are following behind.

Bill and Saito have a close understanding of the terrain and surrounding area for the most part, and will be the guides for the less-familiarized Caravaners.


Raiding Party Members at beginning of raid:

Leader of Raid ;

Cookie

Raiding Party Volunteers;

Dominic
Bohannon
Ricky
Isabelle
Bill
Saito


Weather and Time :

Sun is out, a few clouds in the sky. Its morning, neither early, nor late.


(OOC: can begin this thread at the gates of the Fort or in the woods, your choice)
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:28, Tue 13 May 2014.

Cookie was uncharacteristically dressed with a hijab over her bleached locks, sans makeup, and a definite slouch as she wore an oversized sweatshirt.  Even the bandanna adorning her left boot was gone, the worn jeans pulled over the Bates boots to hide their nature.  She carried a shotgun in a sling, her Glock tucked into her back waistband, and the slugger, now camoflaged as well with some nails and paint.  She wasn't out front as usual, but slightly to the back, and she wasn't riding her Harley - though she'd disabled it in case anybody got funny ideas about stealing it.  From a distance, it didn't look like the same woman, which was what she wanted. "Okay, lead on," she said to the guides, "And tell me everything you know about the possible raiders in the area.  Where do they hit ?  Are there chokepoints along the trail that would make an attack more feasible ?" 

---> Fort: Exterior

Dressed in black biker gear and Aviator shades Dominic looked like an extra from Beyond Thunderdome his hair had grown somewhat shaggy and he had at least a days worth of stubble upon his chin. The look if entirely unintentional was only spoilt slightly by the sabre hanging from his belt.
Not exactly sure what to be expecting Dominic had packed a small bag with some food water and a first aid kit along with ammunition for his rifle and handguns. As Cookie, who looked decidedly un-Cookie like spoke with the pair of trackers at the front of the group Dominic hung around near the back, pulling one of his precious few cigarettes and lighting up with a practised motion. He was trying to quit or at least cut down heavily since pretty soon his habit would no longer be a viable option. But after two run in’s with Karen neither of which particularly pleasant he was in serious need of a nicotine fix.

----> From Fort Dixie Exterior

Bill walked almost next to Cookie, though in front of her, listening to her questions. He had, upon their departure from the Fort instructed Saito to retrieve two long machetes from the Armory and to share one with Ricky. Bill wanted Saito to take the lead from the Fort gate, at least for this first stretch of the adventure. Though for now the path was wide and clear, soon enough it would become narrow and overgrown. The bushwhacking experience reminded Bill all to vividly of his time in Vietnam in the early seventies, so without good-old-Brady to see to the hacking and slashing through the woods, Bill gave the responsibility to the two young men (who also vaguely reminded him of being in South East Asia).

Bill carried his Sheriff's Department holster with his standard issue sidearm as he often did, but for this adventure had also equipped himself with a rifle that had been looted from a local hunting outfitter. He wore his suede navy windbreaker, Wranglers and a pair of dark leather cowboy boots that he preferred for hunting and other outdoor excursions like this one. As this was to be an overnight journey, Bill carried a light bag on his back, with his bed roll and blanket and some basic essentials.

"Well you see Cookie, the problem is we don't know too much about them. We know that they often make their movements at night, but they have been known to be spotted on these roads during the day. Only Toby, Anne Marie, Sam and our former leader have stumbled on to one of their camp sites before. Thats how we lost Francis..." Bill trailed off. Francis had been his friend, before the trouble, and truth be told Bill missed the man.

"Anyhow, in reference to your mention of chokepoints, there is a bend in the road up a ways that would serve as a perfect place to spring a trap."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:50, Sat 17 May 2014.

< From: Fort Dixie Exterior <

Ricky was up ahead the group with Saito. He was able to borrow a backpack, sleeping bag, hunting rifle, and a few other necessities from various members of the caravan and fort. His hat kept the sun out of his eyes and the machete on his side and pistol holstered on his thigh left him with a relative feeling of safety. Being out and about was a familiar feeling and it was nice to be part of a group again. "Think we'll run into any trouble?" he asked Saito as he noticed just how out in the open the group really was.

"Kay," Cookie abbreviated the 'okay' in the Jersian way as she spoke to their guide. "You can also tell me your thoughts if they're military, or just seasoned hunters.  I take it there's no cover to hide behind when we go around the corner.  Can we cut across the territory to avoid it ?"

Isabelle kept apace with the group, dressed in her usual dark, dirty garb much like many of her fellow travelers tended to be. She walked with hatchet in one hand, pistol holstered to her hip, the clasp unbuttoned for easy access. She was quiet as was usual in regards to her character, but still alert. She kept her steps light, her eyes more focused on the treeline's they were soon absorbed by than by her comrades. For good measure, she would glance back behind them.

Dark figures could be seen shambling through the shadows of the forest canopy, the groans of the owners soon emanating from the walking dead residing amongst the woods. They either missed the group entirely, or, upon catching sight of the band of travelers, gave slow pursuit. The pace of the group would give them a fairly safe lead on the walkers already alerted to their presence, in addition to the odd lurker being caught on a tree branch or falling into a ditch, breaking their body into disrepair.

"We have followers."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:22, Mon 19 May 2014.

In reply to Ricky Robes (msg # 5):

The slim Fort scout kept himself a few steps in front of his party, smaller in stature than Bill but perceptibly scrappy. His dirty baseball cap shadowed a tried-n-true face. Noticeably, Saito was more heavily armed than most of his companions. He seemed to have at least a few different blades strapped to a green hunting or militia style vest, with several magazine's slid into pockets along the waist of the apparel . A tomahawk - a gift from the Native traders - dangled from one hip. Sound military boots left an indelible footprint on the dirt and leaves of the forest floor. It wasn't ideal to leave tracks, but it was unavoidable with their timeframe. His most able weaponry was a rare or perhaps not-so-rare submachine gun, thankfully with a thick suppressor screwed on. It hung from his shoulder by a sling, while a toothpick hung from Saito's mouth.

He didn't mind having Ricky walking alongside him, the company not seeming to distract him from a path known to the Fort fighter. The other man's question earned a glance from Saito, who gave a cynical grin reminiscent of battle tested individuals.

"Yes." He answered simply, his words followed soon by Isabelle's statement. The Asian man had been aware of the proximity of the dead as soon as they had left, but it wasn't the walkers he was as concerned about.

"Our real trouble will be the survivors out here. There's really no way around it; we're going to have to scrap it out with a few of em soon. I'm taking us to high ground. We'll get some perspective and defense, but it will also expose us, so we must keep moving. We'll run into those people at some point, definitely."

Cookie perked up. "How many ?" she hissed back at Isabelle.  "How far back ?"  The suspicious hazel eyes did the all-round sweep.  She couldn't wait for their guide's response with a new threat on the immediate future.

Bill's attention was also grabbed by Isabelle's words, turning around like Cookie to see the woman who spoke. Saito's analysis of and prescription for the situation registered in Bill's brain, and though he accepted the information he gave no response. "The trees. Let's get into the trees! We can avoid whatever is coming up behind us, maybe kill it, then we can flank the path and get a view around the bend from higher ground, like Saito said. Saito! Lead the way!"

The noise grew louder and was now audible by all in the traveling party. The sound of shuffling against the dirt path gave away the footsteps of the creatures that followed them - the undead that haunted the woods around Lauderdale County, and as far as Bill knew, all of America. Of the many dark and dangerous things that might be encountered in these woods, Bill was actually relieved to string together his theory of the undead followers.

Cookie moved along with the humans, thinking this was a big mess in the making, and revised her opinions of the Fort people.  High ground, with something that would slow the undead down to give the humans a fair chance to destroy them.  "Up, look for a place that gives them a narrow path to come at us," she hissed.  The hazel eyes did the all-round whip, to check out the terrain, see what was coming up on their six, too.

Plucking the dog end from between his lips Dominic casually flicks it away before drawing the sabre from its scabbard with a scraping of metal on metal. He could hear the oncoming zombies now whereas before they'd only been shapes within the woods easily dismissed as paranoia and bad lighting. Turning to face the direction of the approaching Zed’s he stands his ground for a couple of seconds in order to give the others a head start and perhaps even a glimpse of the Zed’s behind them before turning to follow; keeping the sword low so to prevent it getting tangled in the undergrowth and more importantly injuring any of his fellow survivors.

Bohannon trotted up the path after the hunting party. He'd been bringing up the rear and stayed back to assess the size of the horde. He entered the body of the group at a run. Out of breath, he said "There's too many of 'em to take out here in the open. We gotta find a bottleneck, just like she said." The cowboy agreed with Cookie. "C'mon Leonidas, lead the way."

The snarling grew louder as the horde drew closer. Bohannon pulled the Winchester off his shoulder and cocked it, the proximity of the dead making him ever more nervous.

"Merde...is it that bad?" Dominic asks Benson with a concerned look on his face as he watches the cowboy cock his Winchester rather than electing to use a far quieter melee weapon. Following the cowboy's lead he quickly returns the sabre to its scabbard before un-shouldering his own rifle "How far is it to this high ground and are we going to reach it before they overtake us?" he says directing the question towards the pair of guides quietly wondering whether or not a delaying action would be required or failing that a mad dash through the trees though with years of smoking and several weapons weighing him down he didn’t fancy that idea unless it meant the difference between him being eaten or not.

The young Asian man kept his composure as the situation set in for the group. Slowing as Bohannon joined them, he gave another look around their position on the path, tipping his cap to Bill in acknowledgement before gesturing for the group to follow him. "Stay calm, guys, and stay close ,and we'll be alright."

Taking the head of the group once more, Saito dropped off the path, a slight decline in the terrain causing him to pick up speed before darting into the dense foliage and shadowed canopy of the treeline. He assumed the others would follow.

From there it was pretty easy to tell which way to go if anyone fell a few steps behind the group. An incline quickly began, giving a sense to which way Saito was leading. Bushes and small branches grasped at the survivor's clothing as if in collusion with the walking dead, but they pushed onward..


The walkers could be heard at the pathway, causing some commotion as they gave steady pursuit off the pathway. The decline the group had encountered just off the path gave the undead some delay, the unlevel terrain causing the rotting former-person's to fall and pile on one another.

Those living corpses that could recover continued on, struggling to follow the survivors through the bushes and up the increasingly steep hill. Like the living, they were slowly able to break through the heavy brush to resume the chase.

Reaching the crest of the hill the group was suddenly illuminated by the sun, with no tree cover, and the ominous, moaning woods directly behind them.

This is where they'd make their stand.

"No guns!" Saito reminded the band, sliding off his slung machine gun to give him better mobility. He drew his tomahawk and a long military blade.

"Form up," the Jersey girl said, "When you get tired of being in front, say so and someone else will step forward. No guns."  This was said with an evil glare at Bohannon, whose response to most threats was to expend available ammunition and ring the dinner bell for the local undead and raiders.  That said, she stepped out in front, bat on her shoulder, measuring up the competition.  "And watch the BACK, people, we don't want any of em sneaking up on us.  And Bill...you know of any place along this route we can run to, if we start getting too much action ?" 
This message was last edited by the player at 20:30, Tue 27 May 2014.

Ricky followed closely to Saito as the group ran for the treeline and hill. He followed the man's lead in stripping off any restrictive gear and drawing his machete as he prepared himself for the fight ahead. He pulled his bandana over his mouth and nose to help limit his exposure to the gore. "We got the high ground which should slow them down. We got this." His words were more of a reassurance to himself than anything else. He looked around at the group with him, all capable fighters, he felt secure.

Reluctantly following Cookie and Saito's instructions not to start shooting Dominic puts the safety back on his rifle before propping it against a nearby tree so that it wouldn't get in the way. With the heavy leather jacket zipped and buckled all the way up to his throat he then takes up position on Saito's right drawing the sabre once more and holding it poised to strike the moment a Zed showed itself in front of him. He'd never used the blade before but it had always looked brutally effective in Christophers hands and so now was the time to see how good it truly was.

The undead burst forth from the shadow of the treeline, a handful at first sight, various sizes and genders and states of decay. Their faces were all contorted into grotesque expressions, soulless eyes leering at the living, bony fingers grasping in anticipation.

Saito waited for an opening, allowing one of them to get close enough on its own initiative before striking the corpse in the temple, the tip of the tomahawk breaking through skull and flesh, sending brain splatter onto the next walker.

The Caravaner Isabelle employed her own hatchet, but instead of attacking her own pursuer, she led it back slowly towards the cliff edge of the steep hilltop and let it take a lunge at her. It missed and went over the other side without much revelation about the mistake.  Turning to face the next biter she finally used her weapon. It went down quick enough, but was immediately followed by another of the undead.

Her hatchet reached its goal, embedded into the top of another disgusting head, but this time getting stuck and dragging Isabelle to the ground with the falling body.  Her hand clutched the handle of the weapon, trying to pry it free as another biter came up behind her.

Cookie eyed the oncoming with a calm curiosity, the same expression she had when questioning Vega.  The first one was big so she swept up with the bat, smashing a rancid jaw, and when it reeled, crushed the skull on the downswing.  The next was a very decayed, skinny once-upon-a-teenager, who crumpled up when she rammed the bat into its nearly-bare face.  That one STANK, but she had lived in New Jersey after all and horrible smells were merely a way of determining one's location in that notably odiferous state.  The next was a two-fer where she whipped the bat along the chops of two in a row, then she stepped back slightly, readying the bat for the next one.  There were a LOT....."Bill ?"  she hissed.  If that jerk had left, she was going to find him and really demonstrate a complete lack of ethics.

As the zombies burst out from the undergrowth Dominic lunged taking the first one in the eye before then ripping the blade free to decapitate the one following it happy to see that if nothing else that the blade was sharp.
Turning his head to make sure nothing was coming up on his other side Dominic suddenly notices the downed caravaner. Pausing long to thrust the long blade through another decaying head he then breaks away to aid the trapped woman; burying the sabre deep into what appeared to be some kind of biker's skull as it made to attack her from behind "Get up! There’s more them coming!" he calls urgently down at Isabelle as he rolled the corpse from off of her with a booted foot. Normally he would have done the chivalrous thing and offered her a hand up, but with several Zeds approaching them he didn't want to take the risk of getting caught with one hand tied behind his back and so instead made ready to make his next attack.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:40, Tue 10 June 2014.

Cookie saw Dominic step aside to help the Caravaneer, weighed up their odds again, and set her lips in that thin line that meant Trouble.  She'd have to up her game or they'd be zombie chow.  "Dom, get back here wit her !"  she hissed, advancing to beat down some real Jersian angst upon the undead.  High taxes, corruption, the bad traffic, the sucky weather, the wretched job market, the extreme cost of living, and of course, the SMELL.  WHAM *CRACK* SMASH *SPLINTER* THUD......After three more were down she backed up again and whipped a quick look round to see what was left.

Ricky swung for the first zombie that got too close for comfort. The machete was well balanced and sharp as hell, nearly cutting clean through the shambling creature's skull but embedding itself halfway through. He kicked the creature away, freeing his blade with a well practiced shake and pull before striking down another. He was starting to rethink how well their stay and fight plan was.

Fingers flew through the air as Dominic swung the sabre in a wide sweeping arc in an attempt to drive back the approaching dead and only succeeding severing the grasping digits. Despite the sounds of combat he had heard Cookies voice calling over to him "I am trying ok? Izzy get on your feet or I will drag you! You hear me?" he shouts down at the woman before lunging to take another Zed between the eyes; twisting the blade before ripping it free to repeat the action. He wasn't exactly D'artagnan but he was beginning to get the hang of the weapon which was just as well because the dead were still coming.

Dominic's intervention allowed Isabelle the time to wring her axe free, but not before yet another of the graspers came upon her, with Dom once again giving her some cover. "Got it!" She answered him finally, pulling her hatchet free and pulling back beside the sword-wielding paramedic, minding her distance so as not to catch the swinging steel.

The undead were thinning out, creating a perimeter of bodies around the survivors, threatening to create small untidy piles if the fight continued.

Yet there were signs the skirmish was in their favor now ; the choice of silent weapons keeping their enemies numbered, with meat & metal crunching the only real noise emanating from the hilltop, slowing dieing down as the fight drew to a close.

The cowboy swung his metal pipe methodically, killing zombie after zombie in a way that almost bored the man. God, he'd been doing this for too long. This was kind of all there was to living these days. Find a safe place to stay and set a while, kill some zombies, pursue that special something that still satisfied you in this strange world they all found themselves living in. In Benson Bohannon's case, the thing that brought meaning to the hum-drum life of beating down the undead was tracking down and killing his brother for shooting him down and leaving him for dead back in Nashville.

Brady Bohannon was close. He was a prominent figure in the Fort, the very same Fort that now housed the elder of the Bohannon boys and a handful of people who likely wouldn't lift a finger to help him if trouble came to find him for what he planned to do. As his mind wandered, Bohannon carried on, swinging away as the herd began to thin out. It was as the cowboy stopped to wipe a spray of blood from his cheek that he saw it. It was a body, strung up in a tree off in the distance, swinging slowly back and forth, missing its head...

Cookie saw that the undead were falling, but there wasn't a lot of time to reflect. A snarling one was heading for her.  The hijab had fallen back, revealing her trademark bleached blonde spiky hair, but she wasn't so concerned with that right now.  The bat rammed forward into its maw, then whirled down to smack aside the reaching arms, before she kicked its belly to knock it backwards.  Rancid goo spurted onto her boot and that really made her temper peak.  The next strike was overhead and down, cracking through the decaying face and taking off the jaw.  Then there was one on her flank and she pivoted, gooey boot slipping, so it didn't get the full power of a maddened Jerseyite with a Louisville slugger, so she had to hit it again, and NOW there was gunk on her shirt.  For Pete's sake, these things were vile !  But laundry would have to wait.   What DID concern her is that she didn't see Bill, and if he wasn't dead, or busy out of sight doing his job, well, that was going to mean a lot of interesting things to her.

Saito stood up from a walking corpse that he had shuttered to the hillside floor, and battered at until the thick headed creeper had ceased movement. The groans of the walking dead were ever quieter as they dispersed with the crowd, the only serious danger to the group coming when Isabelle lodged her hatchet blade into a skull. Luckily they had rallied as a group.

 "That's fine, just fine." He spoke quietly as the last of the undead were battered down, then squatting to wipe his blood spattered tomahawk metal against a still walker's shirt.

After cleaning the metalwork, he rose and slid the close combat weaponry into a loop holster on his person before assessing the team. His eyes followed where Bohannon stared, and he adjusted his cap accordingly to focus his vision.

"Bodies."

Cookie whacked one that was still twitching on the ground with a good old double tap, then looked back around.  Hmm.  Much quieter now.  She slipped the hijab back up, wiped the bat off on a clump of weeds, and weighed up the surroundings.  If anyone looked to need help, she'd ease over that way.   Where the dickens was Bill ?

Bill came up the hill behind the group, panting and sweating. The caravan had obviously dealt with more undead creatures in the wilderness than he had, having equipped himself only with his sheriff's department pistol and the rifle he carried, both of which he had been cautioned against using due to the noise such a weapon would produce. Instead of firing the rifle, Bill had turned it around and gripped the barrel like a Louisville slugger, breaking the decaying skulls of the followers with the dense wooden butt of the gun.

As he reached the top of the hill and caught up to the group, he paused to catch his breath, resting his hands on his knees. "That was worse than I thought. They just surrounded me." Bill stood upright and walked over to Cookie, still red faced. "Now where were we, oh right, the bend in the path-" and with that Bill's attention was diverted to the sight that had caught Benson and Saito's eye. He stood staring at the corpse, dead, not undead, it's head missing, swaying from the branches of a tree. "God almighty..." was all he could say, as he dug out the flask from his breast pocket, unscrewed the lid and took three big gulps.

As the battle ended, Ricky wiped off what gore he could from the machete before sheathing the blade. He checked their surroundings before following everyone's gaze to the hanging body. "So is that supposed to be a warning from the bandits or what?"

Cookie observed the dangling corpse with a vague interest.  "Signs would be helpful," she said, without emotion. "I don't recognize the clothing."  The look she gave Bill upon the drinking incident was much less friendly.   "Put that away.  You will need to be sober.  We'll take a few minutes to catch our breath, double tap the undead, and get going."

With Isabelle back on her feet Dominic was able to back away from the approaching Zeds and rejoin the bulk of the group; the number of Zeds seeming to have reduced somewhat to the paramedic.
Watching as the shambling form of a former Starbuck's employee approached him, Dominic takes a firm grip of the sabres handle before swinging it into the creatures skull. He had hoped to cleanly slice his way through but apparently he hadn't the knack for it as he placed his foot upon the things head in order to wrench the sword free, thankful that it had been the last of them.
Ripping off a piece of the dead Starbucks employees uniform in order to clean the worst of the gore from his sword and arm he looks over at Isabelle before asking in a quiet voice "Hey Izzy...are you alright? no bites or anything?" he hadn't seen anything happen to her but it didn't hurt to check. Hearing the comments from the rest of the group he then turns his head to see the headless body hanging from the tree that can't be good.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 33):

Isabelle had followed suite with the group and swiped the blood off of her weapon. It was never a good idea to let stains add up on the blade since they used their weapons so much. Hers eyes were drawn the corpse hanging from a tree in the distance and she maintained a quiet, cool disposition towards the far off body/their possible destination.

Dominic's word's called her attention and the woman glanced back over his way, slight annoyance on her face from his question even if she understood he had to ask.

"Not bitten yet, Dominic." She replied simply, her features masking most of her emotions as per usual, though she did seem to respond well enough to Dominic's affectionate nickname for her.

Turning to let the leaders mull over the possible warning sign in the distance, she took a few short steps to stand near Dominic. 'Thank you for the help.. I'm not one of those girls but.. well, I appreciate you watching out for me right there. I'll try to be more careful." Isabelle spoke quietly, just to Dominic, not used to having to thank someone, more accustomed to being able to look out for herself. If the near miss that had just happened bothered her, she didn't let on.

The young Asian man had turned away from the site down in the valley near the treeline. He waited for the others to take a look as he went about double-tapping the former living, using a blade to do so, not wanting to dirty his recently cleaned tomahawk.

Diplomatically, Saito mentioned nothing of Bill's drinking, though his silence was in and of itself a statement. The calm but focused young man bent to pick up his submachine gun, pulling some grass that clung to the suppressor tube before allowing the weaponry to swing from its sling, one hand resting lightly upon its grip.

"We should check out what's down there. If it's the bandits then we've saved ourselves some hiking. No use opening the trade route with those people still out here. Don't think its a trap, its too obvious. The Bandits don't typically lure, they just come on out and then run off again." Saito stated, making it clear his intentions were not only to get into contact with Black-Rabbit and his tribe, but to deal with the bandits constantly cutting their supply lines.

"Could be randoms that keep coming through the area. We're lucky they didn't come to the Fort. Might be something useful among the corpses."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:23, Wed 25 June 2014.

"If they took the time to chop the head and string it up, they probably went through his pockets," Cookie said, with the ghost of a chuckle. "Let's get moving.  We're burning daylight." 

"C'est bon, its just that I like to know in advance if I need to amputate someone’s arm" Dominic replied, the smile on his face letting the woman know that he was only joking. As she came over to thank him Dominic listened quietly before replying "You're welcome...I kind of hope that you'd have done the same for me if roles were reversed, after all there aren't many of us left so it pays to look out for each other" it was as he was saying this that he was struck by a sudden thought causing him to give a brief snort of laughter. Feeling that he ought to explain himself rather than have her think him some kind of mad man he says "you know we've been in the same group together for weeks but this is probably the most we've ever said to one another...strange isn't it?" it wasn't because he dislike her or anything, it was just simply due to them having never really crossed paths before whish was odd considering the number of people within the caravan.
With the others still discussing the hanging corpse Dominic retrieves his rifle from where he'd left it and hangs it over his shoulder ready to move off again once it was decided what to do.

Isabelle raised a brow in confusion as Dominic cracked up, though when he clarified the reason it all made sense. "Yea I've just been minding my own, I guess. Didn't want to a burden, just wanted to keep the Caravan rolling." She replied without elaborating on anything specific. The woman had no problem with the Caravaners for the most part, but she'd kept her distance for various reasons and at least they were all still alive.

The group was led by Saito and Bill into the woods once more, reemerging only momentarily from the shadows of the thick oak forest to cross an opening to reach what seemed to be the remnants of a fight.

Saito kept his guard up, suppressed submachine gun raised in both hands as he listened and watched. They went past a few blooded corpses scattered in civilian clothing along a campsite that had been rummaged through, and it soon became apparent there were about a dozen bodies or so. There were dead men, women and signs that children had been present at some point with this now destroyed survivor group. A blood stained teddy bear lay on its side in the middle of the skeleton of a group.

The fatal wounds inflicted on the deceased were non-zombie, it would appear. They bore cuts and bruises, with relatively fresh blood dripping down from gunshot or potentially arrow holes.
Undead had traversed to the scent of blood, however, and a couple swampy walkers were hunched over different bodies, tearing chunks of flesh from the dead and raising it to their jagged, broken teeth. Their hair was long and stringy, almost, their skulls beginning to show as their skin became threadbare and translucent.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:33, Tue 08 July 2014.

Cookie smiled.  Easy hunting.  With a hand signal, a wave and point, she indicated she was going to sneak around on the feeding zombies and smack down on the back of a big one's head.  The Bates boots were soft-soled and she crept up on her target with a sharp look to make sure she wasn't noticed, and *WHAM* *WHAM*.

"Fair enough" Dominic replied with a slight nodding of his head "...though I can't see you being a burden somehow, as you said you're not one of those girls" to be honest there weren't that many people around that couldn't take care of themselves as those that couldn't were quickly weeded out by the Zeds.
Following Saito and the others through the trees the group come across the remains of a survivor’s camp. Dominic was no pathologist but judging by the injuries these weren't the victims of a horde but another group perhaps even the bandits they were seeking.
As Cookie quickly and efficiently dealt with the pair of Zeds currently feasting upon one of the former survivors Dom took a quick scout around the camp in search of anything of use in amongst the carnage "This the handiwork of our boys is it?" Dominic calls over to Saito and Bill not really caring which one of them replied "...because if so I can see why you want them putting down" Dom wouldn't feel safe with having neighbours like this around either.

Cookie didn't waste another minute, but proceeded to the next available target, again giving the all-round whip look to see what was on her six.  This one hissed at her, truly rank and revolting, so she smashed it down.  *CRUNCH* *SMASH*.  Always doubletap.  "Euuuuu....." she murmured at the horrific smelly goo it left on the bat.  She let it drip a bit as she weighed up the next opponent, and checked her six again; including the feastees.  You never knew what might happen in the field of the dead, unpleasant crops could spring up.

The young Asian raider continued to purview the scene as Cookie duly dispatched the unliving and those likely to soon join them. He kept his weapon raised midway, ready to complete the upturn if anything sparked his attention that was unkindly.
Squatting down near a body, a woman looking to be in her mid to late thirties, he ran a gloved finger over a gaping hole up against her collar, sussing out the implement of death employed. "Seems to be.. Must have got the drop on these people, I don't see any of the attackers." He replied to Dominic as he gazed at the dead woman's corpse for a moment longer, almost as if he knew her.

His eyes averted to a nearby tent that seemed to have been set up quickly or had been set upon for a quick packing-up ; it drooped in the middle part of the fabric ceiling. A silhouette capturing his interest and drawing him to his feet, leading him to the vulnerable sleeping arrangement.

A few random hand to hand weapons lay scattered amongst the bodies, along with sleeping bags and other camping, long trek hiking material. There was a distinct lack of food. The group may have been rummaged already.

Upon reaching the tent flaps, Saito carefully pulled back the fabric which blew open slightly with a breeze. A moment of brief tension for the heavily armed scout revealed nothing more than a hurriedly scavenged batch of clothing and sleeping bags. From outside it had seemed to be a body or something else.. But for once it was nothing.

Isabelle watched the others' backs as they searched the encampment, staring back the way they came just in case a wayward walker decided to get the drop. Nothing yet. Stepping further into the shade of the fresh site of a massacre she endeavored to cover her nostrils and mouth with fabric torn from a scrap of clothing on the ground to help with the pungent odor permeating the immediate area. No wonder it had drawn walkers, and she was keen they didn't stay long.

Taking a few cautious steps into the former fray, her eyes scanned the ground for anything useful, despite the fact it seemed these poor people had been looted and picked through for anything of value.

They kind of looked like the dead in old pictures of the Civil War when she taught middle school. Clothes torn open, as if they had been rifled through, when it reality it was the gunshot checking themselves to see if they were shot in the body. If they were then they knew they were done for. If a limb injury, well, then they lost the limb, if they were lucky.

A cracking of sticks and leaves among the forest floor emitted from several meters into the brush from where the group assessed the carnage. There was brief silence before it repeated, followed by a pause, then a repeat of the noise. It was almost too fast for a biter, but staggered enough to perhaps be just that.

Bohannon lent a hand tidying up the last of the undead from the campsite. As the rest started playing forest massacre CSI, the cowboy set to upgrading his current weapon. Most of the fallen had hand-to-hand weapons laying beside them, and Bohannon checked each one over until he found a bolo machete that tickled his fancy, so to speak. Bohannon was a fighter, but his personal life before all this had taught him to fight with his fists and with his gun. He was no melee specialist, but he had the upper-body strength to handle the zombies. But as the eerie cracking and rustling came from the woods, Bohannon jabbed the machete into the earth and raised the weapon he felt confident and comfortable with. He peered down the iron sites of the Winchester rifle and scanned for movement. A scene like this gave Bohannon a feeling that churned his stomach. It wasn't the mere brutality that had unfolded, but rather the looming, sinking feeling that they had all walked into an ambush.

"Here we go."

Ricky followed the group's lead in examining the scene. Sleeping bags, hiking gear, and melee weapons littered the area and he kept an eye on some items he liked. *Always better to have extra.* "We should take some of this stuff back with us. The more supplies the better, right?" He took a knee and rifled through the supplies when the noise from the woods caught his attention. He dropped what he was doing and pulled up his rifle, hoping whatever made the noise was nothing too difficult to handle.

Whoever had ransacked the camp had done a pretty thorough job leaving only a handful useful items for Dominic to pick over; a clean shirt...well...relatively clean, a couple of AA batteries of indeterminate life and a summer dress that he could shred to make bandages with, in all not exactly a big haul. He doubted these people had had very much of value to begin with and what little they did have was now long gone leaving only blood soaked corpses, old rags and weapons that they hadn't reached in time.
Hearing the crackling of undergrowth Dominic halts his search in order to draw the sabre from its scabbard; his other hand resting upon the butt of his gun just in case it was something a little more dangerous than a Zed. Taking a quick glance at Bohannon and Ricky noting that they had the area covered, Dom takes a single cautious step towards the noise hoping that it wouldn't result in a bullet to the brain.

The rustling of foliage came closer and closer, the sound of multiple feet on the forest floor kicking up dirt followed by the distinct sound of heavy breathing. Finally the source of the approaching noise revealed itself..
A furry black head with floppy ears popped its head out of a thick base of bushes, big dark eyes surveying the group, followed by a huff/half-bark as the creature took a cautious step, followed by another, out of the cover of the greenery.

Leaves scattered to the ground from various points on the black dog as it seemed to stare at each Raider in turn, its posture indicating it was deciding whether or not to run, its nose twitching as it tried to gauge the story of each living human from the distance of a few meters.

It had some white gracing its snout and had an intelligent air about it despite the fact it was clearly some form of mutt. Perhaps most strikingly, the animal had a black vest secured with Velcro to its torso. Various pockets along the device seemingly held a few medical supplies, what seemed to be unopened protein bars and even ammo clips.

It turned its head quizzically at the group, not showing any aggression but clearly apprehensive, its tail drifting to and fro slowly behind its gaunt but strong figure.

A radio comm link attached around its collar crackled with some noise as if someone had tried to communicate with the hound, but only static came through.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:18, Mon 14 July 2014.

Ricky visibly relaxed at the sight of the dog, lowering his rifle as a small smile made its way to his face. He was always fond of dogs and this one reminded him of his last one; a dark mutt that never quite understood that it wasn't a lap dog, a friendly dog that would always want to play during backyard chores, a mischievous pet that constantly got out but always found its way home, at least until the day the virus spread. The smile faded and he was back to reality and their present situation. Ricky called to the lost-looking dog, keeping his voice a little down as he slapped his legs softly. "Come on. Come here. Who's a good dog? Are you a good dog?" He quickly realized how immature such action must make him look, but he couldn't help it.

Cookie's eyes narrowed.  A collar ?  Emitting sound, or picking it up ?  She wiped the bat on a patch of grass and sidled back to the group, looking at the dog but not approaching it.  Was it part of some kind of trap ?  What had lured these people into a trap featuring slow, ratty undead ?   Something smelled wrong, in addition to her bat.  Then she whipped a look all round, then looked at Bill. "Someone set a trap, they fell for it, we keep going," she muttered to him.  And if she saw that hip flask again he was NOT going to be a happy person.

Bill had spent thirty seven years of his life as county sheriff. Some folks find it hard to believe. A sheriff saw his share of murders and crime scenes in the performance of his duties. Bill knew that. He'd had his helping of crime, even a murder-suicide back, oh about, six years ago. These days the violence, the brutality, was like nothing he'd seen before, not even in the south east Asian jungle. It was hard to take it's measure.

Bodies lay scattered about. Blood was everywhere, on the grass and on the leaves of the trees. The random array of corpses, Bill surmised, indicated this was an attack, rather than an execution. The bodies hanging from the trees missing their heads, well that was a different matter all together.
"Saito, you notice anything missing?" Bill paced around as Saito examined the wound on the woman's lifeless body. "No shell casings." Bill peered over his shoulder and took a look at the wound himself. "Hells Bells. That don't look like no bullet wound I ever saw."

The dog was one more strange occurrence on top of the one they had just stumbled into. This dog was no stray farmer's dog, his supplies gave that away. More questions percolated in Bill's mind. Was this dog the lone survivor of this massacre? Had the dog been along with the murderers? Bill shook his head at the complexity of it all.

"Now hold up. You don't know that. Looks to me like this was a more permanent fixture. I'd say these poor souls were camping out here." Bill looked at Cookie, Benson, Dominic "I'd say this is some kind of ambush. Something prearranged. We've seen this kind of handiwork before" Bill looked over at Saito, his fellow Fort member. Some folks found it hard to believe, but Saito and Bill had already seen the savage nature of their foe. A man put himself at hazard just stepping out into these woods. If the bandits were close by, they were no safer here than out on the road.

"Something you'd like to share ?"  Cookie enquired sharply.

The cowboy lowered the rifle and then raised it again first as the dog revealed itself then as he saw the radio. "We gon' need that radio." Bohannon stated simply as he squinted down the iron sights. He exhaled slowly, hesitating a moment, almost hoping someone would stop him.

 As the dog emerged from the undergrowth Dominic removed his hand from the butt of his gun though still kept the sabre drawn; he'd never been a fan of dogs and finding one carrying meds, ammunition and a radio did little to calm his nerves "I'd lower the gun Cowboy; that’s a walkie, so his master isn't liable to be too far away" though hopefully far enough away so as not to be watching them, either way the sound of a gunshot would alert anyone nearby to their presence.
He agreed with Cookie on the fact that this felt like a trap, the dogs radio collar putting him in mind of a war story he'd heard as a kid of how Soviet soldiers had strapped land mines to dogs and used them to destroy tanks could this be something similar? "I say we take a scout out that way and see if we can find his master" Dominic suggested; gesturing with his sabre in the direction from where the dog had appeared.

"There've been groups passing by the Fort as of late. Folks from up North, coming down to escape the cold. We had to tell them to move along, on account of our own short supply. Some of them tell stories. A while back, one of them passing groups was a young couple, tall bean pole of a man and a young lady, both look like they'd been the recipients of some pretty rough treatment. He told me about a rumor he'd heard, about bandits in the woods around here. They hunted people for their supplies. He said maybe they'd even be cannibals, who knows? Said no one ever saw them coming, they stalked their pray and used a bow and arrow to kill 'em. A bow and arrow, Jesus Christ. You can't make up something crazier than that, I dare you to even try."

Bill didn't know what to believe about the bandits. The rumors persisted, and more and more of the passers by told the same stories. No one had ever told a story of actually encountering the so called bandits. This meant either that the stories were false, or more menacingly, that tactics of the bandits were so effective that no one lived to spread the word.

The members of Fort Dixie, at that time under the leadership of Francis, an old friend of Bill's, grew worried. It was only a matter of time, they thought, before the bandits made their way to the Fort's walls. The decision was made to take the fight to them. The leader Francis, Toby, Sam and Anne Marie went to scout out the foe in the woods. Only Toby, Sam and Anne Marie returned, but with a surplus of looted supplies. Francis had died courageously in a fight with the bandits. Toby took over the leadership, and led the resistance.

The reports of the survivors were the same as the rumors they had heard. Slaughtered human beings lay in their campsites. Gaping wounds and blood everywhere. Sometimes they would string up the bodies from trees, other times they would put heads on sticks. These people who lived in the woods were awful, brutal people. Though they had not yet attacked the Fort directly, they had blocked off the vital trade route that brought food to the Fort people. It was also alleged they had something to do with the disappearance of Tim, a former Fort Dixie resident, though Bill could not yet prove those allegations.

Bill's attention turned to the dog. "Grab that walkie. Can you get a signal?"

The dog took a few cautious steps towards Ricky when the man made friendly gestures, but the tone and body language of the group overall gave the mutt some second thoughts. Taking a few steps back so that its rear end was lodged firmly in the bushes it had emerged from, a low growl began to formulate, though no pointy teeth yet revealed themselves.

Whereas it had seemed confused a moment ago now it seemed to be more sure that it may be in danger. Its big expressive eyes latched onto anyone it could for any sign of friendliness as it prepared to bolt.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:55, Tue 22 July 2014.

In reply to Bill (msg # 52):

Saito was about to respond to his fellow guide's question when they came upon a hounddog rummaging through the bushes into the campsite. He lowered his submachine gun when the animal proved not-unfriendly. Still, it was apprehensive and they could use the supplies. The radio feature threw him a bit, and he watched the back and forth between his comrades as they became anxious about their exposure.

"That's enough, Bill, these people don't need to know any of that shit." Saito snapped at his older companion, taking a few strides towards the center of attention, shooting Bill a look that told him to zip any talk about rumors or Fort history for that matter.

"Enough of this, lets just kill the thing and take its stuff." The young man espoused with little hesitancy as he began to take a couple steps toward the beast, his hand reaching for his tomahawk, letting his machine gun dangle from its sling.

Ricky wasn't really surprised when the dog backed away from the group, at the very least he would be apprehensive of the group too if he couldn't understand them. He got back to his feet with a sigh when he noticed everyone acting defensively towards the dog. He rolled his eyes at their scepticism, but then he heard Saito's comment and that was something he couldn't ignore.

"Whoa whoa whoa! There is no way we're killing that dog if we can avoid it!" Ricky stepped between Saito and the animal; he hardly ever raised his voice like that but this was something he felt very strongly about. "For fucks sake, it's a defenseless animal. Jesus Christ. Just lower the weapons . . . It might just come to us if we act friendly."

Ricky turned his attention back towards the dog, taking a few slow steps towards it and lowering his body. He took a knee and slowly stretched his hand out towards the animal, palm up. "Here boy. Come. C'mon, they won't hurt ya. They just want that radio of yours." He wasn't sure if this dog was a boy or a girl, but 'Here boy' sounded a hell of a lot better than 'Here dog'.

Saito stopped short when Ricky intervened and the hound growled. He remained in that pose for a moment as tried to determine if the other man now standing in front of him would indeed intervene if he tried to seize the dog anyway. Though Ricky was one of the few to volunteer for the mission, he didn't expect this kind of behavior from the other.

His hand rested on the hilt of his tomahawk, about to withdraw the weapon or slide it back into place on his person. "Fine, have it your way. But if the thing runs off we can't let it get far." Saito put his tomahawk back into a carry loop on his vest, and left it alone. The hardened survivor took a step back to let Ricky have a go at the amply supplied creature, silent and likely skeptical or perhaps perturbed at his impulsive response towards the likely house-pet turned survivor dog.

The dog was about to fight or take flight when Saito moved in, the eyes of the intelligent animal becoming focused and distressed until Ricky stood in front of it and scared off the tomahawk wielding human.

Still somewhat cautious, the survivor dog took a tentative step towards Ricky, stopping tentatively, within reach but ready to bolt at a moment's notice. Stretching out his neck it sniffed at the man's hand, warming up a bit but clearly at odds with a one or two of the people in the party, but overall, oddly protective of its supplies.

The communication device on the dog crackled softly, clearly in operation but no sign of life beyond that so far.

A bird's whistling carried through the air, emitting as far as the destroyed campsite. It was followed by another, alittle closer this time, but still sounding somewhat far off. It caught the dog's attention immediately, causing it to turn its head, ears raising attentively, staring into the forest foliage behind him.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:21, Sun 27 July 2014.

Ricky followed the dog's stare at the sound of the whistle, trying to decipher whether or not the dog was gonna bolt on him. A fleeting thought about secret hunter calls crossed his mind, but it was quickly reasoned away with *Well, there are birds in the forest.* His attention snapped back to the task at hand, getting the dog's trust so he could snag the supplies. He wanted to keep it alive but he knew if it ran, the others wouldn't risk the loss of its supplies and radio. He whistled lightly to get its attention once more. "Sit boy, sit." he commanded both verbally and with a hand motion, hoping his hand command for sit was the same as the one the dog was trained with.

"That ain't a bird, the dog's a Judas goat," Cookie said, noting the dog's abrupt reaction. "We're gonna meet the people that did THIS."  with a headshake towards the patch of death she'd been wading in. "MOVE !"   She was already heading out exactly back the way she'd come, wondering if it had been a land mine that had felled the other travelers or some other trap, but it smelled like a trap.

Bohannon lowered his rifle as the others dropped their guard. The dog had supplies, which was nice, but it wasn't a grand haul worth wasting too much time for. The radio, now that was something, though it wasn't likely to mean what everyone else thought it did. There was nobody on the other end of that walkie...

The bird calls went unnoticed by the cowboy as he gave up on catching a new pet and wandered back towards the centre of camp. It was the second set of calls, bouncing around the forest that made his heart sink and his stomach churn. Bohannon clenched his teeth, gripped his rifle tighter and exhaled a breath that he hoped not to be his last. This was not the way Benson Bohannon wanted to die.

The cowboy sidled up beside Cookie. "We ain't goin' down like these folk, Jersey. Something comes out of this forest, you get the group back. You go and y'all don't stop 'till them gates slam shut behind you. Ya hear?"

Cookie had laid a severe glare on Bill, who was supposed to be their guide, but was apparently little more than an expendable drunk, before again whipping her gaze all round for threats, human or unliving.  "Cowboy, who'd you think set us UP for this particular hit ?  Who led us here ?"  she snarled back at Bohannon, though she was more angry that she'd trusted the Fort leader than anything else.  "YOU-" she directed at Bill, "HOW FAR to the place we're headed ?  And your life depends on the truth."  Not that she'd trust him, she just wanted to see Bill's reaction.  And which way HE ran.

"Merde! its like the bloody wild west" Dominic said upon hearing Bill's talk of bow armed cannibal's a group of traveller alone in the woods surrounded by angry natives...yeah I think I know how this film ends Dom though to himself quietly wondering how he'd managed to get himself into this mess after all these were meant to be bandits not the Manson family.
It was clear by the conversation going on around him that the rest of the group were just as on edge as he was with the sudden introduction of "bird calls" doing little to help matters "Cool it Cookie, the cowboys right we need to get the hell out of here" Dom suddenly spoke up as he returned the sword to its scabbard; knowing that the weapon would be absolutely useless if they ran into these so called bandits "...we can argue over whether or not we've been set up later but for now we need to get out of these trees" at least in the open they would be able to see them coming if indeed they were coming and this wasn't all fear induced paranoia.
Un-shouldering his rifle he moves to follow Cookie away from the camp; everything about this place just felt wrong; the bodies, the bird calls, the dog, all of it smelt like a trap and he wanted to get the hell out of here and fast.

"Son of a bitch!" The cowboy exclaimed as everything started to make sense. "But you don't mean to finish this fool's errand, do you? If they sent us out here to test the waters or whatever the hell this is, well I get the feelin' our work is done for today." Bohannon leaned in close to Cookie, trying to keep out of earshot of Bill or Saito. "Let's get back to the Fort and lay down the law, tell 'em there's a new sherif in town, tell 'em how it's gonna be from here on out. They sent us out here blind with only half the story. Let's go get the rest of it and then do this our way." Bohannon looked out into the trees. "'Cause whatever's out there right now... We ain't gonna win this time."

In reply to Ricky Robes (msg # 62):

Despite the distractions of in the distance and in amongst the ravaged campsite the dog seemed to respond to Ricky, duly sitting at the man's beckoning, but without any real expectation of reward. Its large, dark, oddly intelligent eyes surveyed Ricky with a curious familiarity. One ear was flipped over so it was inside out, the other perked to attention.
The frustrations of the group made it a little anxious, and so it shuffled forward to sit closer to Ricky, baring its fangs slightly at some of the group, though it made no overt sound of aggression.

The most heavily armed member of the raiding party followed along with everyone else as they began to pull back, but he became annoyed with the paranoid temperament of the hired mercenaries Toby had set them up with.

"You people can't just turn back now, what do you think this is? We fed and sheltered you hobo's in exchange for your muscle. That was the deal. You were good as dead when we let you in. This isn't some errand, this is a mission. We go until we find the bandits and we kill them. Don't pussy out." He spoke with no small amount of bite to his voice, directing his reprimand to the cowboy and Jersey girl specifically.

He held the submachine gun aloft in both hands, ready to fight any trouble that came to the group but also to stem any direct violence to his fellow guide that the erratic Caravaners might deliver.

"You stay till the jobs done."

The cowboy took a few forceful steps towards Saito, the Winchester rifle raised just enough to be offensive, but not "pointed" necessarily... "This mission ended the moment y'all decided not to tell us the facts about what we're all doin' out here. You ain't never said nothin' about savage cannibals layin' elaborate traps for us. We're trying to establish contact with the Indians. We ain't prepared for this kind of war, Bruce Lee." Bohannon said his piece and turned back towards Cookie, hoping like hell she'd wise-up and roll out back to the fort.

Ricky leaned closer to the dog as it bared its fangs towards certain members of the group. He gently pet it, attempting to calm it, as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him. He was no expert, but even if the bird calls were from hunters or bandits they sounded far enough away to not be an immediate threat. He understood the caravan's worry but wasn't expecting such animosity and immediate shifting of blame. He turned his attention towards Cookie as she turned on Bill. "Whoa whoa whoa! We don't need to threaten the poor man." *Damn, I wish Lyle was here; or Mahmoud. At least they handle things with some clear-thinking and subtlety. But nope, I'm stuck with Cowboy and Jersey.* "Just think this through, okay? If they were setting us up for a trap they would have made us go first and shot us as soon as we got here." He turned his attention towards Saito and Benson. "We're not trying to pussy out. We understand that this is the deal we made but you guys should have told us the truth from the beginning; at least let us know what we were really up against. This group right now, us, pretty obvious we aren't the best choice for what kind of mission this really is." Ricky felt nervous; he always hated trying to be the mediator in anything, add guns and hot tempers to that mix and it's a full surprise he was still speaking his mind. "We can't go back yet, at least not until we make contact with Colton, but we all need to have a serious talk when we get back, not just you leaders."

Cookie favoured Saito with her 'gimme a twenty for a tip' smile, that did match the venom in her hazel eyes. "Lead on then, sweetie," she purred, and made sure to get right behind him, since Bill had pretty much bugged out. "Ricky's right.  You need to be straight up with us, and we'll be right there with you in the thick of it, but you hold back from us, what's that say about YOU bein' less than what you represent ?  How far is it to where we're heading ?"

Saito matched Benson's steps, the shorter man and the cowboy closing the distance between one another  though not breaching that zone of no-return. He listened to the winchester wielding Caravaner, still on that line of wanting to shut him him physically but having the sense not to try. Ricky's interjection caught him again like it had before, and he snapped out of his state, stepping off, lowering his weapon and loosening his grip, at least somewhat. He let the others air their grievances, his eyes shifting to Bill with silent recrimination that the other Fort member had brought the uneasiness upon the group with his drunk ramblings.

"We don't know if these bandits are cannibals or not, alright? I wouldn't take the word of an old lawman with whisky breath. Bill knows his way out here, but when he's drinking he tends to say whatever he's fucking thinking, but he doesn't know anything for sure." Saito answered them all collectively, speaking about Bill in front of the guy without regard to how he'd take the machine-gunner's wording.

"Now if there was something I knew for sure, of course I would and will tell you about it. Don't think I'm keen to get myself killed out here, or I wouldn't have brought this. I have people at the Fort I want to get back to as well. " He continued, his gaze indicating his weapon briefly. Maybe stop worrying about your own asses so much and worry about the big picture here. We don't get the indians through means we don't get our food line opened. We don't get the food line opened, our Fort becomes a prison and we starve to death. " He was normally a quiet guy but he felt on his own out with these strangers. Bill was proving to be of less help as the months went on, and Saito only wished his buddy Gabe was next to him instead.

"Its like you people haven't been out in the open before.. You scared of other living breathing people? Get the fuck over it. We come across any trouble? We kill or be killed. Thats the situation we are in." He turned away, his body language indicating a direction back into the cover of the forest, the next way for them to go.

The scout briefly glanced back to the others out the corner of his eye, "You know how this works, we stay together, we survive. Now pipe down and lets move, I'm not spending the night out here.." Saito brought up his free hand, eying the time on his watch without giving away if he was more worried than he ought to be. "And keep that dog quiet if we bring it along. It could attract biters, or.."

As far as he was concerned the discussion was over, though it was really the Caravaners that had set terms for continuing. He expected as much when they set out, but he'd also expected Bill to do his job. Why did Toby send that old codger along?

Saito moved carefully and quietly through the brush, not waiting for the others but not getting too far ahead. He needed some space, even a little, from the others for a moment, or two but tried to remain alert to any sounds of humans or undead nearby.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:31, Thu 07 Aug 2014.

The sound of the bird call at first brought uneasiness. A moment of silent tension rang out following the whistle, as the listeners waited for their fate to befall them. Bill began to believe this day would be the day he died. But as the seconds past, and the silence was broken, the uneasiness lifted. The uneasiness was replaced with chaos, the group descended into argument and accusation.

"I'm not drunk" Bill said. He had, of course, had at least one drink this afternoon. He was not sure if the others knew that the had also had a drink at breakfast. "And we're not turning back."

Bill resented the assertion that they had been sent into the woods as a trap. Toby, for all his faults, wouldn't sent this many people out to die. Their mission was imperative. If they didn't die out here they would surely die of starvation back at the Fort. He spoke to the group.

"Saito is right. We have to keep going. Now I'm sorry if you feel that you were not privy to all information, but we didn't lie to you. I didn't lie to you. We all knew what the danger was, coming out in these woods, but we came anyway. We've got to."

Bill looked directly at Cookie "We're not holding back anything. We need your help, now we can all see what we're up against. Let's get going, shall we?"

"Lead on," Cookie said, with a sweet smile.  Happy to put someone else in front as a target.  "We go, stay near the trees if they start shooting, and Exactly HOW far is it we are WALKING ?  What the hell."  The last was muttered as a New Jersian forced to walk someplace that was NOT a shopping mall.  She strode out to the edge of the woods, whipping a look all round again.  The attack would come, just trying to figure out the direction and force.

"Yo, Cowboy," she said, "We are a moving block to be shot at right now, so what say we send a forward scout ?" 

Isabelle hung back as the situation became more volatile before cooling down  as the group again reached a consensus. Silently she observed the bushes and forest mosaic while joining the raiding party, her glance always drifting behind them, as if expecting something or someone to creep up on them. She maintained a close proximity to the group to avoid being last in line should something happen.

It just so happened she found herself alongside Dominic as their column wound its way through the woods once more. There was nothing she could say that wouldn't just be awkward jabber with her (what seemed like a long time) companion Instead she glanced his way and cracked a small, wry, completely uncharacteristic smile.

Moving through the trees Dominic kept a constant watch of his surroundings hoping that what they had heard really were just bird calls and not the hunting calls of a group of cannibals.
Things within the group seemed to have calmed down now that they were moving again; Ricky having had to put himself between both Saito and Bohannon's guns in order to get them to back down better you than me mon ami had been the thoughts running through his head with his own finger resting on the trigger ready to open fire on the Asian man. He and Bohannon weren't exactly best buddies but he was one of them if nothing else.
It was just as Cookie drew up to the edge of the trees and asked for a scout that he noticed Isabelle beside with a small smile on her lips. Dom wasn't sure if he'd ever seen her smile before as he returned it with one of his own "So...bow armed cannibals, aren't you glad you volunteered for this" he said chuckling softly before dropping his voice slightly so that the others wouldn't easily over hear "Say Izzy do you think these guys are telling the truth about not knowing anything?" he could understand sending them out on a suicide mission after all they were strangers but why send Bill and Saito?
Maybe they were on the level but Dom was still interested in hearing what one of the more level headed caravaners thought about it all.

Bill followed closely behind Saito as they walked away from the bloody camp site. He quickened his pace and caught up to him. He outstretched his arm and grabbed Saito by the shoulder, spinning him around so they were face to face. With his other arm he raised his fist, with his index finger pointed not one inch from Saito's nose.
"Listen here you little prick. Don't you ever talk to me that way in front of people again. Is that how you were taught to speak to your betters? Learn some respect, do you understand me?"
Bill relaxed and took a breath. "Don't embarrass me like that. I always thought you were a reliable young man." Bill frowned. He hadn't been this frustrated since the last time he was out in the woods, looking for Tim with Luke and Brady.

***
Walking next to Cookie, Bill explained the geography of the area. "Colton and his crew come across the Mississippi on a small ferry north, well, northeast along the bank. If they're not there when we arrive, we'll look for them along the trade route. They've gotta be camped out someplace, we'll pick up the trail. We were given two days, remember? Now I'm fixin to be back as soon as possible but this is imperative, Cookie."

Cookie rolled her eyes, pausing just long enough to swing a hip and then laser beam Bill with the GLARE of DEATH, and growled at him, low in tone, keeping it private. "Two days of walking, minimum....  With undead, cannibals, raiders, and all a dat.  No wonder youse been gettin' picked off like Macy's clearance racks on Black Friday.  Lead on.  Let's get da moveable feast movin'."     Nothing was going to cheer her up with this much walking to do and no shopping !  She resisted heaving a sigh, and got back to business, smoothing out her expression into the 'welcome to Hooters, give me a big tip smile.' "Tell me more about the path there.  Any places you think might be good to set traps, bottlenecks, blind turns, geography problems ?" 

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 77):

Isabelle tried not to chuckle at Dominic's first comment, joining him in finding the entire situation absurd. The world truly had descended into madness in a short span of time. Now they were out in the woods, hunting for people most of the raiders had not met, with seemingly dangerous survivors all around them amongst arguably more dangerous biters. Once again there was little she could say in response, instead nonverbally saying it all.
When there was mention of scouting ahead she refrained from directly volunteering, not trying to be self serving, because she would go if asked, but ultimately she wanted to stay with the group, perhaps specifically certain members of the group.

Brushing a loose bang from her eyes she considered his question, her gaze drifting to the others ahead of them before coming back. "Hm.. It seems odd, even to our guides. I'm starting to wonder if anyone has even seen these supposed bandits, or if they even exist. That camp back there.. There's so many survivors heading south, how do we know its even related. Lots of people hunt with bows.. I've yet to meet any cannibals." She wasn't altogether confident in the raid, it was clear, but she had her own private reasons for coming on raid, and fulfilling the Caravan's debt to the Fort when they staggered out of St. Louis.
"I just don't know.. These days, all anyone has is their word. Everythings a risk. Even not going on raid."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:43, Mon 11 Aug 2014.

The dog scampered on with the group, keeping light on its feet, more or less hovering around Ricky but still trotting ahead of the raiding group to sniff this or that. The equipment carrying mutt would pause and lend a floppy ear to the air to get the drop on whatever was out in the woods, before it got a drop on them. It still held its supplies of bandages, a couple pill bottles, ammunition clips, some packs of dry food and that communication device.

In reply to Bill (msg # 78):

The Asian guide stared coldly back at Bill as the man spun him and verbally accosted him, spewing recriminations he might or might not have deserved. He did grasp the essence, that they were looking weak to the Caravan people that outnumbered them, and would have to tighten up and remember they were on the same side. A bead of sweat ran down Saito's temple, betraying his solid portrayal. When Bill mentioned he'd thought fondly of him, he finally blinked, becoming a bit more tenable in his body language.

"Alright alright." He muttered to Bill before the older man broke off to talk to Cookie. Adjusting his cap so he was securely shading his eyes he turned to lead the group on point once again, glad to know where he stood with Bill. Overall his mood on the raid was hard to read, there was a sense he hadn't chosen to go, or been on the decision making side of who was really suited for this expedition, yet he understood what the goals were, in their basic sense. Get the natives to bring the supplies from the farming colony of survivors, trade the goods that Toby's group bring back from their own raid; the Fort has food for the colder and/or more desolate months. And kill anyone who gets in the way..

Ricky kept near the front of the group, closely watching the dog but giving Saito ample space. If he had any semblance of closeness with either side, his little outburst just may have further served to distance him. *Never thought it would be this hard to make new friends.* The isolation he felt now was distinctly different from the loneliness he felt in the previous months before meeting the caravan. It was strange feeling alienated by people who were almost in your exact position. He stretched a little and let out a shushed sigh. Trusting people and, more importantly, getting people to trust you was not something he was used to yet. He knew it would take time but he found the slow progress of the days ticking past to be maddening and he couldn't help but wonder exactly how different their experiences as survivors really were. He never really ran into bandits so he never formed trust issues; an experience, he could tell without asking, the caravaners did not share.

Cookie considered, as she drifted here and there within the group, always behind someone or having them block her body with their own, and also watched the dog.  It was someone's dog, and that someone had been whistling in the woods, no doubt to communicate something unpleasant for the travelers.  So she watched, quietly, and observed the dog, the people she was with, the horizon and its various features, and walked along.  Never knew when she'd might have to return this way at speed, either, so she memorized features of the surroundings too.  No much else to do; she'd set up a sulky whine to make them think she wasn't planning something.  Being a girl had its uses.

The group continued at a surprisingly good pace, with Saito and Bill leading together or alternatively, seemingly having buried the hatchet since earlier, when Saito had thrown the older man under the bus. There were few animal sounds as they all walked together, mainly the scurrying of what would turn out to be small land animals disturbed from rest or the sporadic call of a robin or crow. They moved in relative silence, with the undead refraining from disturbing them as well, oddly enough.

"Almost to our old meeting place with Black-Rabbit." Saito would mention as they walked, a degree of relief to his words that he could confirm something to the skeptical party of survivors. Their path through the bush began to develop a worn quality, like it had begun to show the signs of being frequently traversed.

Isabelle walked with Dominic, shooting Cookie a momentary glare when the woman fell back and effectively used the group as cover. Isabelle understood, though, as she had always tended to let the group go its way, with her following carefully from the back. But she was tired, they were all tired. She let it go. And on they went...

--

The dog continued to follow along, enjoying the long travel, but showing signs of thirst as it followed after Ricky, sniffing at the man's canteen. It would keep at the behavior until someone assisted, though it never showed signs of taking off from the group to find who its owner actually was. Perhaps it wanted to be with them, perhaps it knew its chances were better in a group, somehow.

That was, until the hound stopped dead in its tracks for a moment, ears perking. One front leg raised as it were trying to point, before quickly charging off through the ranks of the column and into the forest ahead of them. It stopped only briefly to look back at the Caravan before running forward again in a rush. There had been no apparent sound that drew it, but something obviously had.

Soon they heard the yelling, like the delayed sound of a far off explosion finally reaching out to them. People. Yelling. It clear there was distress, and it was on their path of advancement, at that, literally in the way.

Saito looked back to the group behind him, not saying anything, his fatigued but determined expression conveying that they were going forward, come what may. The day was ongoing, and he this was the path he knew, and would be damned if he would strike lost into the bushes to avoid someone they would likely get the drop on anyway.

Barking joined the yelling ahead.

Reaching the source took some time as they moved forward with a careful precision, not even Saito willing to risk rushing forward like the dog.They came on the source of the sound quietly through the shadows of trees.

It was a pit. A round, eight to ten foot circular pit. A woman was calling for help, stuck at the bottom, muddied and frantic, attempting to pull on roots to get out, but not able to make a go of it. The Dog waited at the precipice, barking, tail wagging, looking down at the woman then back at the group.

"Ricky! Shut that mutt up before I do it myself." Saito stated curtly but quietly, looking to the others to gauge their reactions before moving beyond the treeline. They hadn't been detected by the apparent trapped woman yet, so far only the dog had revealed itself, but hadn't succeeded in calming the victim.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:13, Mon 18 Aug 2014.

Ricky noticed the dog sniffing around his canteen and was about to give it some water when it ran off. He was a little confused and worried, until he heard the yelling. His first instinct was to run towards the noise but one look back at the group and he knew he would be alone for that mission. Ricky might be a bit naive, but he was no fool. He kept pace with the group until they came upon the source of the noise. He scanned the area from the treeline when Saito spoke up about the dog. He looked back at him, turned to the dog once more, and sighed as he readied himself. He pulled up his rifle and kept low to the ground as he approached the dog, calling it with a shushed voice. "C'mon boy, that's enough. Shush. Be quiet already." There was an unfamiliar urgentness in his voice with a hint of worry as he tried to quiet the dog. He kept scanning his surrounding with an almost paranoid swiftness, expecting something to jump out at him any second now. He gripped his rifle closer now for comfort as he neared the precipice, getting close enough for a somewhat quiet conversation but not close enough to actually see who was inside. "Are you hurt down there?"

"Oui...our guides do seem to be as clueless as we are, though I doubt we're on a wild goose chase after all something’s stopping those caravans...I just hope its not going to turn out like the last raid I went on" Dominic said keeping his voice low, though why the fort would want to kidnap their non-combatants was beyond him, as far as he could see it Toby just wanted a bunch of merc’s to do his dirty work for him.
Dominic moved quietly through the trees beside an equally quiet Isabelle scanning the his surroundings whenever he heard another one of those bird calls coming from out of the trees; still unsure as to whether they belonged to birds or were the hunting calls of the feared “cannibal bowmen” cool it Dom they're just birds you're getting paranoid he silently scolded himself feeling all the more foolish for having Isabelle there to witness him getting jumpy over nothing.
It was not long after Saito announced that they were almost at the meeting point that the dog broke free of Ricky’s grasp and made a run for it; Dominic raising his rifle and taking aim only to lower it with a muttered curse. The damn rifle shot would attract more attention than the dog would besides which he wasn't that good of a shot to guarantee hitting the running animal. Shouting quickly followed the dogs escape along with the dogs own barking as it neared what appeared to be a pit dug into the earth.
Moving over to a nearby tree he drops down to one knee and rests the rifle on a low branch; his eyes scanning the area surrounding the pit for any signs of trouble "Hold up a minute Izzy, best make sure there’s no one lurking nearby before we get any closer" he said feeling only a little guilty about using Ricky to flush out any potential ambush lurking within the undergrowth. Perhaps it was only paranoia again but once again the whole set up felt like some kind of elaborate trap "Why does everything about this place feel like a damn trap!"

In reply to Ricky Robes (msg # 86):

The dog barked in its alerting way once or twice more before Ricky's more urgent tone drew its attention. Stubbornly it ruffed a couple low, sustained half-barks. Obediently or perhaps finally understanding, it became silent, but still displayed some excitement, tail wagging aggressively, ears and canine features drawn taut because the action.

Moving forward to the pit as Ricky spoke to the inhabitant, Dog inspected the pit citizen with curiosity but some needed caution, its movement towards the mouth of the hole kicking a few clumps of dirt down inside.

"Shaddap, dog," Cookie hissed at it, then "Shaddap, girl, you'll attract THEM". A lush for a guide and a hothead for a guard, pretty much looked like the Fort was asking for trouble in its trading...unless the trade goods were her and her companions, in which case things were going to get mighty ugly mighty soon.  She didn't move from the middle of the group - one thing that would do is keep her from falling into another drop pit, as well as shielding her from unfriendly fire.  And the trap - another way to slow them down ?  She didn't bring rope.  She looked over at the nearest patch of woods and considered how likely a big long tree branch might help, but this smelled like another time delay and/or trap.  Then she looked over at Bill, the supposed guide, to see what he'd do next, before another all-round whip scan of the area. "Go get a fallen tree or something, so she can get herself outta there, we're burning daylight." she suggested to Bill, in an undertone.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 87):

Isabelle stopped short when Dominic spoke up, though she hadn't been eager to step into the clearing. She was as concerned as any other human being for other survivors but she had also see so many died and had been disappointed again and again and she wasn't about to get her hopes up for a positive outcome.

She didn't touch upon Ricky going out to essentially be the feeler for the rest of the group, but shared a look with Dominic conveying her own disappointment with herself to let the guy expose himself. Ricky was a good man, from what she had seen, and had put up well despite losing his friend Doug in St. Louis. Doug had been set upon by the walkers like a pack of hungry wolves to a wounded stag. His sacrifice might have saved them.

"Its the woods.. We're being as careful as we can I think. Just can't crack or we're screwed. " She replied quietly, her gaze drifting from the pit to the surrounding forest canopy, seeing nothing suspect.

At first.

"Walkers." She stated with a slightly more audible voice so the group could hear her.

"Other side of the pit, hundred yards out. At least four or five. Woman's yelling must ahve drawn them. I don't think they see us yet."

The captured survivor at the bottom of the pit was relieved that someone was up top with the dog, that she hadn't just been discovered by some animal that would helplessly watch her flounder.
She was young, maybe mid to late teens. Despite her yells, she now quieted with potential help finally with her.

Hearing a man's voice she replied, some anxiousness in her voice but newfound hope as well. "I'm alright. I hit the bottom hard but I'll be okay. Please help me out of here." She pleaded, urgency in her voice, aware of the situation she was in. Hearing Cookie's voice, she grew impatient, but was placated by what sounded like an order to help her escape.

"Thank you thank you thank you so much."

"Glad to know you're not hurt. Don't worry, we'll get you out of there in no time." Ricky gave a quick sigh of relief before fumbling with his bag. He was too far from the group to really hear what they were saying but he could only assume they were either planning what to do if this was a trap or how to help out the girl in the pit. "I know I got some rope in here somewhere." he muttered under his breath. "Got it!" he looked up from his bag, a decent length of rope in hand and a slight smile on his face, only to see several walkers approaching from the opposite treeline. He moved with a newfound quickness in his step as he rushed to secure the rope around his waist before tossing the other end into the pit. "I don't mean to rush you, but we got some company. We'll be fine just keep quiet, secure the rope around your waist, and give me a tug when you're ready. They haven't noticed us yet." He backed away from the pit's edge a little bit before digging in his heels and preparing himself to pull.

"Yeah...that must be it" Dominic replied absently to Isabelle's suggestion that it was the trees that were making him and everyone else jumpy. It was just as he was beginning to think that yet again there was no trap; after all Ricky hadn't been met by a hail or arrows or disappeared in a cloud of pink smoke, when Isabelle pointed out the walkers, Dom’s eyes automatically snapping over to there location. They hadn't seen them, not yet at least but with all the noise the girl and the dog was making it would probably be only a matter a time until they did "Keep watch Izzy, I am going to go help Ricky pull her out...if they start coming this way I want to hear your girlyist, horror movie scream" he said teasing the woman beside him remembering how she'd previously stated that she wasn't one of those girls.
Dashing out from cover, Dominic makes a bee line straight for Ricky "Hey mon ami need a hand?" he asks quietly; wrapping a length of rope about his forearm as he does so "OK Ricky...I am ready when you are"

Cookie decided to let the boy heroes save the damsel in distress and swiveled all around again to see what was coming.  "Hell," she muttered, sighting the zombies.  She hissed at the heroes, "Company - undead," as a warning, and looked for a way to run.  This whole trip was a trap, and these guys wanted to waste time on the Girl in the Hole Trap....but what can you do.  She played the hand she was dealt, squared up her bat, and waited, always watching, seeing what was coming up on all sides.  "We're moving fast once you get her up ! " was the next hiss.

In reply to Ricky Robes (msg # 92):

Cass did not need much cajoling to cooperate with Ricky. Quickly she brought the rope around her waist, tieing it around her form as tight as possible before giving a tug of confirmation. "Good to go!" She added, just in case.

Isabelle gave Dominic a look like he was insane when he asked her to give a girly, fearful shriek if the undead came too close. For the moment it seemed like they were in the clear. The walkers were coming around their way, but did not have confirmation of sight. Always relying most on what was left of their sense of smell, of hearing, they groped about the landscape, rattling bushes, getting caught against branches, as the collection of corpses trudged onwards at an even pace.

Sliding her hatchet from its loop on her belt, she watched with the some worry as Dominic joined Ricky to bring the pit-person out of captivity. She didn't like him getting into such a position, but she wasn't keen to leave the girl alone as she might yell and cry, which would lend a helping hand to those that would eat them all.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:03, Mon 08 Sept 2014.

The dog moved around the group as the worked, keeping out of the way and keeping silent, yet panting heavily, thriving in the action. Its tail swung side to side and it planted itself next to Cookie, its ears perking as the undead made more noise amongst the trees some space out from the space of the pit. Sharp, slightly blood stained teeth revealed themselves as the dog let out of a low rumble of a growl, lips quivering up to reveal its fangs.

The radio on the dog's vest crackled, a voice attempting to break through the static interference, but coming up short of anything intelligible. It ceased for a moment before continuing, causing the walkers in the forest ahead to pivot as they heard the sound carry through the bushes and woody setting.

"I always appreciate a helping hand." Ricky said with a friendly smile as Dominic wrapped some rope around his arm. He took on a more serious look as he once again focused on the task at hand. "Okay. We pull on three." He took a deep breath and readied himself before hearing the radio static to life and alert the walkers ahead of them. His eyes widened as their heads turned towards their direction. He gave Dominic a quick glance. "Three!" He pulled as hard as he could, really digging his heels in.

Cookie surveyed the approaching threat, knowing that the soft-hearted Ricky would prefer to rescue someone, and the damned dog was definitely not helping them.  She caught the attention of the others, hissing in a whisper, "We got company coming."  The dog might cut and run with the arrival of the undead - but by then, the undead would be seeing Meals on Feets, aka the travelers.

It took a moment for the pit-girl to dig her feet into the walls of the pit to help the process of climbing up and out. Despite her reassurances she had banged herself up pretty well in her fall inside the insidious dugout. Dominic's assistance of Ricky ensured the work was made quick. No doubt the hearty breakfast food of the Fort facilitated their efforts.

The undead were closing in then, but there was time to fight or take flight. They knew something living was close, they could smell it in the air. Groans, dreadful raspy sounds filled the air as the collection of former human being's descended towards the pitted area.

Saito checked his weaponry as they awaited the ambush of undead as well as the possible screw up of a rescue at the pit. He would normally have shirked off such an effort, but he could use some information from the girl, whether she wanted to or not. It was imperative that they found the Tribe soon, or they would be in a bad spot. Already the fabric of the raiding party was tenuous. Saito didn't trust the redneck and Ricky had obstructed him back at the massacre-site.

"Come on we have time." he spoke out in a hushed, urgent tone, beckoning Dom and Ricky to haul the girl with them if necessary back to the tree line .

"Shut that dogs fucking radio off." The heavily armed Fort dweller added harshly, turning the sites of his silenced automatic weapon on the mutt that had led them this way.

Eyes widening in shock Dominic glances first at the dog and then at the approaching Zed's before hauling on the rope; digging his heels in deep into the ground silently cursing the dog as he does so. Although the two of them made quick work of pulling her out it felt like an age to the Frenchman as he watched the Zed's shambling towards them, meaning that no sooner was the girl out of the pit that Dom had looped an arm under one of her shoulders "Grab her other arm Ricky, we need to get out of here!" he said to the other man, deciding that they could find out whether she could walk or not once they away from here.
As soon as either the other man had helped him pick her up or the girl started moving under her own power, Dominic would head back in Isabelle's direction where she could cover their retreat if necessary. It was time they were out of here.

Ricky followed Dominic's lead once they got the woman out of the pit, looping an arm under her's to assist. He could hear everyone's orders to quiet the dog's radio but he didn't see it as such a pressing issue. "C'mon boy, we're leaving." He turned back to the group as they scurried over with the pit girl. "We can worry about the radio once we're out of immediate danger, for now just make sure those things don't get too close."

Cookie knew it was too late to run; she eyed up the competition and sighed.  Damned long day, worse than cheap wings night in football season.   She raised the bat and sighted up her first target, then her second.  "Move out," she muttered to the others, intending to cover their retreat.  There had to be a more defensible position....

like on the other side of the pit.  Which is where she went, intending to get as many zombies as she could INTO the pit, now that the girl was out, and thereby limit the problem as they retreated.  Of course, she wasn't dumb enough to get very close to the pit, which might tempt someone to shove her in.

The line between fight and flight drew thinner and thinner. Bohannon shouldered his gun and drew the bolo machete and took up a position beside Cookie at the pit. Though the thought of tossing her in was tempting, now was not the time. "What's the game plan here Babe Ruth? After you hit these fly-balls, you and me gotta get to first base." Bohannon caught the possible double meaning of his analogy and smiled a little. "So, where we headed?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:33, Tue 16 Sept 2014.

The undead began to fill the open space where the Raiding Party made their stand/escape. Drawn to Cookie and Bohannon, several quickly fell into the pit, giving no care as to what was beneath their feet while pursuing living flesh.

A few began to move around the pit, or emerge from the treeline's flanking the group. Not all of the walkers showing up were the group Isabelle had initially spotted. Closing in on three sides, the biters were scattered out enough for the group to isolate a few without being overrun.

The main clump tried to descend upon Cookie and Bohannon, their presence pronounced on the other side of the pit. One after another, the rotting former-people fell into the pit, adding to a writhing mass of stinking limbs that groaned and reached up in vain to the mouth of the hole. It was like the gateway to hell itself, yearning to pull someone down inside.

Cass tried to be of some assistance to her rescuer's as they hauled her back to the safety of the treeline where other people she did not know, were waiting. Her bruised, weak legs from the initial fall into the pit had left her shaky, and though it hurt she would pick up her pace as much as possible.

Facing the back of the group as she was dragged along to the bushes, she noticed that not only were undead ahead of them, but behind them as well. It wasn't a wall of walkers, but they were everywhere.

"Hey lady! Behind you!" She called out to the young woman with dark hair and a hatchet, who was waiting amongst the foliage along with an older man.

Isabelle was about ready to high tail it out of the area. With the girl coming to safety there was little reason to stick around. Raid, mission, whatever it was, she and most of the others weren't keen to get themselves killed over someone they had never even met.

Hatchet it one hand, she prepared to cover the others as they were increasingly finding themselves encircled. When the blonde girl pulled from the pit yelled at her, she knew better than to hesitate.
Turning quickly, she came more or less face to face with a new gathering of undead. They'd come after the sound, or had been following in their staggering fashion, too slow to catch up until the group had stopped.

Eyes widening as the first lurched out at her, she swung her hatchet across the monster's temple, lodging it briefly, the collapse of the walker brought her weapon free.

Many more followed up. There seemed little pretense to using their louder weapons.
"Which way we pushin, Cookie!" She called to the leader presumptive. Each direction seemed just as dangerous as the last. If they were going to go they would have to push together or split up, every man and woman for themselves, not something that tended to end well.
Pulling her glock free from its holster she fired a round at the next approaching biter, hitting it between the eyes, dropping it.

Bill stood with the others at the tree line. He shook his head at the complexity of all that had happened. Only moments ago, they had been walking along the path in the woods, and came across this pit. The girl at the bottom of it had been rescued with little difficulty; as Bill heard Cookie's request for a branch he saw Ricky and Dominic pull her up with a rope. This young girl, and the dog from before, had latched on the group, for better or worse. Bill could not leave another soul behind.

Worse.

The undead creatures surrounded them. Closing in on all sides, they moaned, and Bill's blood froze. He clutched his rifle, watching the others to see what they would do. So much rested on the survival of this group. They were so close to the meeting spot, so close to finding Colton and delivering the food supplies back to the Fort, so close to going back home. Bill could not die out here.

The Zed's poured from out of the trees drawn by Cookie and the cowboy as they lured them into the pit; although some of them still appeared to possess enough brains to go around the outside and avoid the trap.
It was as he turned his attention back to the direction he, Ricky and the girl were travelling that he saw yet more of them coming and in numbers that prompted Isabelle to draw her gun and start firing "We head that way" Dominic responded to Isabelle's question; pointing towards what appeared to be if not a gap then a thin part in the approaching horde's line "I need you to keep going without me Ricky, someone needs to keep our way clear" Dominic said speaking to the other man behind the girl's head before unhooking her arm from around his shoulder and drawing the pair of handguns he carried; the Zed's far too close for the rifle to be of any use.
Taking his time to aim each shot Dom fires the guns picking off three the undead with only a handful of wasted or ineffective shots before moving to follow Ricky and the girl, quietly hoping that Izzy and the others would follow.

Cookie applied bat to skull and levelled a zombie lucky enough to have avoided the trap but unlucky enough to have encountered the Jersey Girl. Ya gotta love it when a plan comes together. "We bought them some time, now we go," she said simply to Bohannan.  "Who do you think put that radio on the dog ?" 

Then she caught up to the rest of them, noting the impressive problem and lack of solution.  "Give 'em hell," she growled, and began to strike down the undead with the ferocity of a truly angry woman.

With all the fighting, Ricky was just glad no one was hurt yet. He was amazed at how fast they got swarmed, just another reminder of why we need to be more careful. He nodded to Dom as the man gave the order to continue towards the thinning line; less zombies less danger, made sense to him. He moved his arms around the girl's frame to pick up the slack left by Dom, being a little overly cautious of where his hands fell. "Don't worry, I got you. We're gonna be fine." He approached the thinning line of undead as the group proceeded to drop them, keeping an eye on any that got too close for comfort and getting ready to fight them off if need be.

There seemed to be at least three or four for each of the survivors to handle, though spread out and scattered it was impossible to decipher how many more there were. Between all of the tree's there were undead bobbing in and out of view as they relentlessly groped across the landscape towards the sounds of life. In every direction there seemed to be some rotting obstructions, with no obvious direction to go.

In the pit the walkers clawed at the dirt walls enclosing them, breaking fingernails and eroding the flesh of fingers and of the earth itself. Pebbles then rocks gave way to fall into the hole of writhing limbs and snapping, broken teeth, expanding the pit slightly as its contents bulged and groaned.

Caught in a reverie, Bill was snagged on the shoulder by a lurker, the pointed digits of the attacker taking a grip of the old man's jacket sleeve, tearing the fabric from his arm when the survivor recoiled.

The dog barked loudly and followed along with the group, dodging the undead and drawing some towards the pit, only to sidestep and lead a few inside. It wasn't happenstance, the mutt seemed to know what it was doing.

Saito began to fire into the advancing undead, the peculiar sounds of the rounds passing through the silencing chamber emitting that short distance among them. Some shots clipped off of the tree's, chipping bark and dust, though most of the firing found its mark, dropping several of the advancing dead. When one came too close, he slammed the butt of his machine gun against the jaw of the rotter, knocking its jaw into dislocation and semi-detachment from the head. "Bill! Fall back!" He called to his Fort compatriot as he saw the other set upon.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:24, Thu 02 Oct 2014.

Isabelle, grappling with the ambush, turned at the first opportunity to catch up with with Dominic, Ricky and their new ward. She cast a glance towards the Cowboy and Cookie as they made a stand to buy time. She could see Saito trying to follow up, Bill struggling and the dog weaving in and out through the scattering of walkers. She passed a walker which, grasping out from behind a flanking trunk, was promptly delivered a swipe into the jugular. It was a non kill, but dark ooze sprayed from discolored flesh, and sent the monster to the forest floor, likely only temporarily.

Closing in on the three, her eyes darted like the rest of them, unable to focus on the numbers enclosing their position, though ultimately focusing upon the pit area. However, late-comers were spotting the escapee's and the rescued girl, and were fencing in the survivors in a pincer-movement. "We might get through in a pinch, but the oth-" Isabelle was next to Dominic as they fought their way, the confusion of the fight like battlefields of old.

A metal on flesh on metal sound snapped in the air followed by a yell of pain, and Isabelle fell to the ground, tossing up decaying leaves as she did so. Quickly adjusting onto her back, her eyes widened as explanation filled her senses. A bear trap. A fucking bear trap. It was clamped to her right lower leg, bloodied metal teeth clamped around her flesh, with a few shades of red and pink displayed intermittently with shattered bone. She was breathless and thought to call for help but no words came out. Tensing up, a walker approached, pace staggered. Dropping her hatchet she opted for her glock in a pinch, raising the barrel, firing and missing as the walker tripped up.
Focusing once more, at the last moment before it was too late, she pulled the trigger, the bullet passing through the forehead of the biter, sending it crashing in front of her bear-trapped leg.

With swift reflex Bill straightened his rifle and took aim, hitting each of his targets precisely. For all his faults, Bill was a soldier and a policeman, and a good one at that; He trained regularly with firearms at the Lauderdale County Sheriff's Department.
Bill looked around at this scene in the woods. Surrounded on all sides, Bill fired again, killing three more and spending his rifle ammunition.

He looked left, and was snagged on the right shoulder, tearing his jacket and spinning him around. Bill fell to the ground, and looked up at the face of the creature that sent him down. Blank white eyes and pale skin, the thing looked dead itself. It's face looked human, but unhuman, it's body dead, but undead. Advancing toward Bill it looked him in the eye. This thing knew what it wanted.

Bill drew his Sheriff's Department pistol, and put two rounds in the creature's head. One for each dead eye. He picked himself up and inspected his torn jacket. "Damn." There was very little chance he would be able to get this repaired.

Bill caught up with the group as they moved. Whichever way they went they had to get out of here. It was only moments before he heard the heartbreaking sound. He saw Isabelle fall to the ground, heard the scream. He ran closer and saw the source of the pain. "My God." Bill thought about the undead surrounding them, the massacre at the campsite, the little girl in the pit. Now this. Bill was sure they had wandered through the Gates of Hell.

Ejecting the magazine of his automatic Dominic grabs another one from inside his jacket and quickly reloads, hardly believing how quickly he'd burnt through the first one. The Zeds were still coming but it would seem that with a little luck and a whole lot of fire power the four of them at least would be able to break through to the other side. However it was just as Isabelle was voicing as much that disaster struck as a sickening crunch followed by her falling to the ground with an agonised cry signalled that she had stepped into a trap.
Dropping down onto one knee beside her a string of curses flows from his lips as he quickly examines the steel jaws of the trap about her lower leg wondering how in the hell he was to remove it. Hearing Bill's voice he looks up to see the old sheriff stood nearby; the paramedic's heart lifting slightly at the sight of him "Bill rendre grâce à Dieu! I need you to keep them back whilst I get her leg out of this" he shouted, praying that he wouldn't cut and run, leaving the pair of them to be torn apart.
Pausing to execute another of the foul abominations that had gotten too close for his liking with a single gunshot to the head, Dominic proceeds to remove his belt; ripping at least one belt loop in the process before fastening it about Isabelle's leg as a makeshift tourniquet "Izzy I am really sorry but this is going to hurt like hell, I need you to pull your leg out of this as soon its open ok?" Dominic said speaking to her as calmly as possible under the circumstances.
There was no counting to three or telling her to brace herself, Dominic just pulled on the steel jaws of the trap and hoped for the best.

Ricky turned at the sound of Isabelle's scream, seeing her on the ground and Dom attempting to help her. He stopped for a second, wanting to turn back and help but he knew he wasn't gonna be of much assistance with Cass weighing him down. With a heavy heart he continued on, focusing on the task at hand. "They'll be fine, they're strong fighters. We've been through worse." It was hard to tell if he was trying to reassure the girl or himself. Concern was clear on his face but he tried to keep it out of his voice, keeping an eye on the nearby undead. "We gotta focus on getting you outta here." He pulled out his machete, getting ready to drop any walkers that got too close.

Bohannon fell back from his position with Cookie at the tiger pit to join the others. He moved at a run and fired as he went. He emptied the Winchester rifle and threw his back against a tree to reload. The cowboy slipped bullets from his belt and into the rifle one by one, as quick as he could.

The sound of the bear trap clamping down on that woman's leg was grotesque. Bohannon shot down a few zombies as he neared Isabelle and Dominic. The cowboy took a position to cover the pair. "We gotta go, Clooney." Bohannon didn't want to tell Dom to leave her, but...

"I know! I know" Dominic replied to the Cowboy with a hint of desperation edging into his voice "I just need a little more time, that’s all!" he didn't want to leave her; he knew he should leave and save himself and the others stood around him but he couldn't bare the idea of doing so without at least trying to save her.
Despite the traps age the spring was still strong and moved at an agonisingly slow pace. There was another option for freeing her but not until it was obvious that either opening jaws wasn't working or that they were out of time. Dominic prayed to God that he wouldn't have to use that method as Izzy would never forgive him.

Cookie's lips were set in a grim line as she swatted down another undead and smacked its snarling face with the bat.  She was getting tired; it took three swipes to dispatch it, then the next one was lurching at her.  She lashed out with a Bates boot, knocking it back and did the all-round.  "Back towards the guide," she said to the Cowboy, having heard the scream. "Idiots wasting ammo and advertisin' dinner !"  Then she swore, as undead fingers reached for her and she had to shove the zombie hard with the end of the bat, before leaping up from the ground to gain the momentum and torque to smash it properly in the head.  She then put her words into play and headed towards the scream, and Bill...he'd better be dead, or she might be tempted.....

"There is no time!!!" Bohannon hollered at Dominic. He popped off three rounds and emptied the winchester, yet again. Clumsily, he threw the rifle over his shoulder and drew his Peacemaker. The cowboy shot down one that was too close. The bleeding thing fell next to the doctor, oozing on his pant leg.

Bohannon gave Dominic a quick tug on the sleeve, indicating to him it was time to move. "C'mon Doc, we can't move her." He gestured the barrel of the gun towards Isabelle, almost as an offer. "When a horse break's it's leg in the sticks, there's only one thing a guy does. So are you gonna do it, or am I?"

As the group closed in around the girl and the bear trap, Bill looked back at Dominic. "I've got your back Dom!" he said, his worried frown and squinting brow betraying his confident tone.

He fired again, taking care to use only one bullet per body, so as not to waste ammo. He hadn't anticipated a large horde like this, he hadn't prepared for it. No one had, really. The sooner they moved out of this spot the better, Bill thought.

"What's the situation there Doc?" Bill called back to Dominic from his position. "What are we gonna do?"

“She’s not a fucking horse!” Dominic growled; glaring up at the cowboy not so much upset over what he’d said but over the fact that Dominic knew he was right. This was useless, he wasn’t going to get her out, not like this, not with all these Zed’s coming after them. Given the time and the right equipment he could have gotten the trap open and freed her, but he didn’t have the time and all he would achieve by staying here would be to get himself and anyone else who stayed with him killed “Go and catch up with Ricky, Bohannon….make sure he and the girl are alright I’ll deal with this” Dominic said with a defeated look on his face.
Gently releasing his grip upon the trap so as not to cause Isabelle any unnecessary pain; a funny concept considering what he was about to do, Dominic returns the jaws back to their original position before getting up onto his feet “I am sorry Izzy…I am really sorry” he quietly spoke to the stricken girl with an anguished look upon his face and tears edging into the corners of his eyes “…I never wanted it to come to this but there’s no other option…I am sorry” he says before steeling himself for what he was about to do.
Moving quickly so as not to give himself any time to think about it lest he hesitate and have second thoughts Dominic draws the sabre from its scabbard and in a single fluid motion brings it round in a wide downward arc upon Isabelle’s injured leg. With the bone and flesh already mangled and broken by the trap the mercifully sharp blade made short work of amputating the trapped limb taking only two blows to sever the leg just above the steel jaws so that only her booted foot remained within the trap.
With the tourniquet already tightly applied about her leg the bleeding was only minimal for the time being but he would have to work quickly to save her once he got them both out of here.
Scooping her up he throws her over his shoulder before beginning to run grateful that she’d blacked out after the first blow  “Come on Bill, we need to get the hell out of here!” he shouted, not that the old sheriff would need much encouragement considering the number of Zed’s approaching. With the blood stained sword still in his hand Dominic ran quickly as he could with the bleeding girl slung over his shoulder wondering how in the hell she would ever forgive him for what he had done.

Isabelle was pale as a ghost as she lay back, propped up on an elbow, her hand clamped around the grip of her glock. She listlessly turned the weapon towards yet another oncoming walker, the hammer clicking, tellingly empty, with the felled survivor not really noticing at first. Her gaze drifted to Dominic, who's swift presence brought her somewhat around, though it was clear she was in some shock. "Dominic.." She breathed out in what was relief or exasperation, perhaps a bit of both. With Dominic's attempts to pry open the jagged metal of the trap, she cried out, pain flooding her senses and jolting her back just enough to feel the throbbing of her torn up lower leg.

There was a momentary peace from the yanking of the bear jaws as Bohannon joined them, giving slight cover from the relentless herd surrounding their position. Locking her eyes with Dominic, and seeing the dilemma in his gaze, she couldn't help but shake a bit. I'm not one of those girls.. she thought over and over as the group gathered, unable to stay in their place for long, debating over whether or not to leave her or kill her.

With Dominic standing up, apologizing, she was sure he was about to leave her. "Dominic, its-" She began to speak between stabs of acute pain, though any sound she made seemed concealed within the rolling groans and moans of the undead forest.

She screamed as Christopher's old sabre sliced through the mangled flesh of her leg, dicing through nerves, bone and tissue, but leaving enough of her lower leg connected to warrant a finishing blow. She yelled for her him to stop, the pain too much to bear, but it was soon done, with the last of the red cords attaching her limb together giving way, blood spilling out and dying the brown leaves of the forest floor an early Autum red.

She was unconscious quickly, her form now light and maneuverable in Dominic's grip as she was carried over his shoulder, her glock by now loosed from her tense digits, falling to the Earth as they retreated in a frenzy.

"I'm not one of those girls.."

Saito hadn't waited around for Isabelle like some of the others, instead firing off a couple supressed bursts of his submachine gun to cover part of Cookie's retreat before sprinting back through the woods past the wounded Caravaner. A smaller fellow, she was able to dodge a number of grasping, discolored hands along his improvised route. They were done for if they slowed down, and he was determined to be at the head of the escape party.

He caught up with Ricky and the girl they'd pulled from the pit, adrenaline coursing through his tired body as he tried to catch his breath in that moment of stay.

"Lets get the hell out of here, if they can't keep up then we have to leave em behind." Saito stated though their actions already spoke for themselves.
"We need to get the girl back to the Fort, maybe she had information. No way we're getting through this place now." Looking over his shoulder to the more likely gap in the upcoming line of walkers, he prepared to move forward, though his features portrayed a sincere doubt that they could make it through without heavy casualties.

In reply to Ricky Robes (msg # 117):

Cass clung to Ricky as best she could as the man pulled her along with purpose away from the thick of the fight though it was soon becoming clear that they were inundated with biters from every conceivable direction. Snapping, jagged teeth cut the air as the undead trolled between tree trunks, bumping and tripping eachother only briefly as they fought over the best spot in the veritable buffet line.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

The hound that had accompanied the group dodged through the undead ranks, tripping a few and causing some delay in the progress between the tightly wedged formation of trees and hedges, last defenses of the encircled group. It made sure to stay close the party, only barking to alert one of the survivors if they were about to be snatched from behind, and intervening if necessary.

One groping hand that came too close to Ricky and Cass was dealt a viscious bite from the mutt, who promptly and powerfully jerked the limb of the walker, sending down a ditch amongst the leaf-covered forest floor.

Its communication device cracked to life as they all struggled, though there was no voice on the other end yet. A whistling sound pierced clearly in the atmosphere of the battle, similar to the bird sounds the group had heard earlier back while trekking after encountering the dog in the first.

The undead were too numerous, and the pit area was soon a debacle of foul smelling death, death that was mobile and close, and supremely motivated by the fresh living blood permeating the dry, cool air of the forest.
A fog slowly formed amongst the tree's, making combat somewhat more difficult, isolating the group into a pocket of a space which was gradually tightening, first with mist, walkers emerging from therein in to charge the raiding party.

Peculiar whistles, bird sounds began to accumulate as the action worsened. Closing in along with the undead, doom seemed to approach in many forms.
Arrows began to glide though the light mist, cutting spaces in the effect and lodging firmly into the assemblage of undead about to close like a pincer around the survivors.

Not all the arrows were kills, but most found their mark in the skulls of the walkers. The undead carried on towards the only humans they were aware of, while to their rear and flank came the sound of arrows riding the wind. Soon came noise of hand to hand weapons combating the biters still concealed within the fog. The sounds of this new ambush came from all sides much the undead had, providing either the prospect of security or a new danger altogether.

"Yeah, right behind you." Ricky replied to Saito, letting the man take lead. Soon he heard Cass whimpering. He turned as she repeatedly apologized. "What are you sorry for? It's not your fault you fell in." The fog rolled in quickly and before he knew it, the landscape was blanketed in the thickening mist. He could hear the bird calls from earlier and the sound of multiple bodies dropping, along with the all too familiar sound of melee combat. *That's definitely not from my group.* His heart sank as he turned to Cass, keeping his voice at a whisper. "If you had any part of this, keep it to yourself. My people have been duped before, they won't be so understanding."

A combination of exertion, shock and too many years of smoking numbed Dom's senses to the point that he was no longer able to fully comprehend what was going on around him only that he had to keep putting one foot in front of the other and keep moving. With only the outline of somebody up ahead as a guide Dominic carried on moving through the fog; lashing out at the Walkers that came at him from either side but not pausing to see if he'd taken them down or not, there was no time, he had to keep moving, he had to get out of this damn forest and save Isabelle; the warm stain on his shirt a constant reminder of what he had done.
Behind him he could hear the sounds of combat only slightly muffled by distance and fog who the hell is fighting them? I am at the back aren't I? maybe it was Bill or Cookie he hadn't seen them in a while but then again they could have over taken him and he wouldn't have noticed in all this fog "I have to get out of here before I go completely crazy" he muttered to himself; the sound of a bird call doing little to improve things No! Don’t stop, don't look back just keep running, everything will be fine if you just keep running!

The cowboy had a solid stomach, but when Dominic hacked Isabelle's leg off, and a spurt of blood hit his cheek, Bohannon almost lost his lunch. Figuratively speaking of course. There wasn't enough food rations left to afford lunch. Bohannon stood, stunned as the doc dragged the poor girl away. The leg sat there, caught, mangled. It would have been kinder to put her down. A zombie grabbed hold of Bohannon's shirt and it jarred him back to reality. He swung and punched the thing out with the Colt in his hand. The zombie reeled back but came again. The cowboy brought the handle down on its head again and again. By the time it fell down dead, two more were upon him. Bohannon connected cowboy boot to stomach on the first one to buy enough space to holster the gun. From the left side he pulled his knife and jabbed the blade into the skull of the next biting thing. The decaying corpse collapsed in a heap, the knife blade hopelessly embedded. The kicked one had stepped back and as Bohannon struggled to free the knife, it grabbed hold of him again and pull his shoulder towards its vile teeth. But as Bohannon wrenched forward, away from it the grip went slack and the thing fell to the ground, pierced by arrow. Then a whole volley more came whistling through the trees. Bohannon ducked and spun, searching the chaos for the doc. As more arrows filled the air and more biters fell, Bohannon took cover by a tree, pistol drawn, waiting to see if this meant safety or doom.

Cookie was winded, and used her small form to her advantage, finding a hollow in the trees to hide in while she caught her breath.  Saving that girl had cost precious time, but then - arrows were coming, hitting the undead.  She watched for a moment, panting to regain her breath, and then charged out again, for once moving with Bohannon as if they were a team; he'd been smart enough to find a tree too.    The bat rose and fell; she wasn't wasting ammo when there was so little left, not unless there was no other choice.  "Keep going," she said, then saved her air for battle.

The undead became less numerous as the sounds of hand to hand combat rose and fell through the mists of the forest. Whistling, bird calls, hoots accompanied the now audible crunching of feet upon the leaves of the forest floor. Rotten bits of walkers lay strewn about, adorning some of the survivors as they had tried to fight their way out.

Figures began to appear out of the fog, slowly, moving with caution, bows drawn, tomahawks or other familiar walking slaying instruments ready for quick use as they hung from belts or holsters. The men were notably Native American, and a couple women were among the group as well. Exact numbers were unclear, but the new arrivals were spread out around the Raiding Party in place of the for-now dispatched undead. They levelled their weapons at the survivors, seemingly gauging the nearly over-run group, threatening violence if they were met with action from these other humans.

As the newcomers descended upon the group, the hound that had followed along with the Raiding Party bounded obediently towards them, responding to a particular whistle, weaving through a gap in the string of Native fighters to an elevated position in the forest landscape.

It stopped short near what the mist revealed to be the likely leader of this band of bow wielding survivors. The dog sat down beside him, the radio strapped to its vest finally ceasing its intermittent crackling.

The tall indigenous man tossed a small piece of something into the air next to him, and his dog promptly arched its neck back and lifted its stringy yet strong form to engulf what was presumably meat between its jaws before settling back down into a sitting position to wolf the morsel down.

He had odd marking on his face, and almost seemed to be of the old tribes hundreds of years ago. In fact, he wore decidedly modern wear, the kind of clothing most survivals found functional and useful in Zombieland, stuff that could put up with alot of wear and tear. Clothes for roughing it.

A bow hung over one shoulder as leader observed the collection of survivors spread out in the space below his vantage point. A quiver of arrows hung from his back, an Axe from his waist.

"Bill, Saito, what took so long." He asked neutrally, surveying each of the people he did not know personally. No gesture was made for his men to lower their weapons yet.

Hanging from his hip were scalps, blood still palpably red around the point of cutting. They were not undead scalps.

In reply to Ricky Robes (msg # 129):

Cass clung to Ricky for leverage, her legs still weak, her body still getting used to free and able movement from the pit, especially after the fall she'd taken when first ending up inside. She would've tried to help fight the way out, but she seemed to know there was no point, especially as arrows began to fly and take out their marauding biters, only to be replaced by other survivors.

Fearful, her head turned in each direction for a possible escape, but found none from the scattering of Native men and women surrounding them.

 She whispered to Ricky, keeping her voice quiet, terror and recognition in her eyes as she watched the man situated above the rest, holding the power to re-engage the carnage, but so far withholding it.

The sabre sliced its way through the Zed's skull as it loomed out of the mist; the momentum of the strike throwing Dom off balance causing him to stumble, barely keeping a hold of Izzy. A snarl on his left causes him to look around in fear as the thing reached out towards him with dead rotting hands that would reach him before he had time to bring the weapon to bear. Gritting his teeth in anticipation of the inevitable bite to his arm Dominic watched instead as the walking corpse fell to the ground with an arrow in its head. which of their group had a bow? he couldn't remember his mind and body were too weary from his head long flight to really concentrate on anything.
Turning to carry on running he stops as he see's several bow armed men stepping out of the mist, a quick glance over his shoulder telling him that he was surrounded and that running was no longer an option "She's hurt...I need to stop the bleeding" Dominic said numbly to the armed men around him, unsure as to who he should direct them to.
Keeping a wary eye on the bow armed men, he cautiously lowers Izzy onto the ground before removing his bag to get his things "they're just medical supplies...I need them to stop the bleeding" he says not wanting the men to get the wrong idea and shoot him on the spot.
Somewhere nearby he could hear people talking and he could just about make out Ricky and the girl up ahead so he wasn't completely alone but for now his only concern was to stop the bleeding and save Izzy's life.

Cookie lowered her gooey bat, carefully watching the new arrivals.  "Put the gun away, Cowboy," she muttered to Bohannon.  Time to observe; she was curious how Bill would explain the mess they'd gotten into, and what it actually meant that there had been so many 'failed' parties lately.  She listened closely, and watched, checking all-round as was the typical way of a veteran zombieland survivor.

"I'll lower mine when they lower theirs." Bohannon rebutted, pistol clutched tightly in his hand. "So how 'bout it Cochise? Your boys wanna lower them bows?" He addressed the leader-apparent, taking an arrogant step towards him. Bohannon wasn't fond of being held up in the woods by people who were supposed to be allies. This whole thing, right from the start smelled like a trap. Now they were deep in it.

"Put the gun down and act happy to see them,"  Cookie said in an undertone to Bohannon.  Clearly the man had never worked in any kind of customer service relations job where acting was necessary to pay the rent.  She was watching the new arrivals with the seeming calm of one stuck in NJ turnpike traffic - outwardly passive, inwardly ready to murder in a New York Second.  She forced a timid smile, figuring they didn't know about her, and that was the way she liked it, hence the disguise.

The leader of the band of skirmishers would scowl towards Dominic and the wounded person he'd been carrying. "She's as good as done for. Might as well put one in her forehead." He shrugged off Dominic's urgency, though something in his body language and tone indicated it was not because of lack of seriousness to Isabelle's plight, but rather a sort of gloating as he held their lives somewhat in check.

Attention shifted briefly to the cowboy hat clad man daring his collection of bow armed survivors, "Seems none of us are going anywhere so long as Mr.Hero keeps this nonsense up." Clearly the guy wasn't going to budge without some level of adherence to his authority.

"That one." Colton pointed towards Cass, "She ruined my pit. And her people trespassed on my land. She belongs to me." He declared simply, "I see Toby didn't come himself. Or has he finally been replaced like he replaced the last one."

Saito stood with his machine gun lowered inoffensively to his side, held up by the sling around his shoulder. He was near drenched in sweat from running, fighting, carrying such a heavier weapon. "I'd ask why you didn't come sooner but I'm grateful for the help. When the fuck did you get a dog? I almost killed it earlier. Next time don't lose it maybe." Saito spoke to Colton with some familiarity, stepping forward towards the man but keeping a distance suitable to the occasion. They weren't friends, they were business partners. Or rather the Fort was.

"Toby's got your shit out at the Fort. Lets all go there now and we can trade for the food, alright?" He got right to business, wishing to spend as little time in the wilderness as possible much like the rest of his group. Though he had some common sympathy for Isabelle's wound, his main concern was getting back to help his own people and before any more Caravan people were hurt or killed. Might cause a stir when they arrived back to the rest of the new group.

"Stop playing games and tell your people to cool it. Where's the food? You all look like you travelled light."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:41, Sat 08 Nov 2014.

Ricky gave Cass a reassuring look before placing himself between her and Colton. "I'm not handing her over to you." he spoke defiantly, unarmed but standing firm. "I don't know you but the armed guard, bloody scalps on belt thing doesn't really help with the trust making." His heart was racing a little and he turned to Saito for some reassurance. "You're sure he's not a bandit, right?"

Bohannon clenched his fist around the grip of the Colt. "Hey, Yin an' Yang, I think it's pretty clear the Last of the Mohicans here ain't brought us nothing. The supply lines weren't cut off by bandits. This son of a bitch is the bandit." The cowboy was furious. They'd been had. This mission was doomed from the start and he'd been dumb enough to come along.

Cookie might have the cool head to wait this out and see where it went, but Bohannon did not. He was too stubborn to stand down. Unless the Jersey girl made him... He'd be responsive to a show of force or an exertion of authority. He needs to feel like his fate isn't entirely in the hands of the man standing before him. And clinging to his gun is the only way he knows how to feel in control.

Trying his best to ignore the growing tension around him Dom works quickly to stop Izzy's leg from bleeding out; his hands quickly becoming slick with the woman’s blood. Hearing Colton's gloating comment about his patients condition he paused long enough from his work to glare at the man before resuming his work muttering under his breath as he did so "Je me souviens que lorsque vous êtes dans son poste" the use of his native tongue giving him a small sense of smug satisfaction.
It was as Benson continued to shout; gun in hand, that they'd been had that Dom finally managed to get the bleeding to slow if not entirely stop, the temporary and very basic fix meant that she wouldn't die in his arms or at least not until he had chance to do a proper job somewhere a little safer that his current location, Assuming of course that Colton and his goon's didn't decide to kill them all here and now. Rolling back onto his heels he only half feigns rubbing his side like he had a stitch; his hand inches away from the .38 currently resting in its shoulder holster. Was it still loaded? how many shots had he fired? he didn't know, the gun could be empty for all he knew but if the shit hit the fan he'd just have to pray that it was and take his shot, the paramedic confident that he could draw and fire the revolver quicker than they could a bow.

Cookie was watching.  She had a pretty good idea who to shoot first; unlike the others she knew exactly how many bullets were in her Glock.  She let the bat rest on the ground and waited, arms at her sides, slightly behind the Cowboy so that she'd be partially hidden by his body.  But the arrows from the woods; they were still being watched.  "So, who's the guy in charge, please, so we can get this over with ?  I mean, thanks for helping us with all the walkers, that was really nice bow shooting, "  she said, still keeping a soft voice, with a "gimme a good tip" smile.   Maybe Bohannan would take a hint and not collect any pointy wooden spikes.

The sharp sound of a whistle came from between Bill's lips. "Alright already! Everybody, arms down!" He used his Sheriff's voice.
Cookie was right, it was time to move. Colton, like Toby, had a history with Bill and the Lauderdale County Sherriff's Department. However, in the uncertain circumstances Bill found himself in these last few months, he had been willing to give a little trust.

Bill hated the sight of blood. He never watched horror movies, nor did he watch the surgery channel that his former wife had enjoyed. So the sight of Dominic hacking off Isabelle's bear-trapped leg with a sword was a sight he would not soon forget. The horror of the day was getting to be too much.

As they ran, Bill sidelined into the trees. He stood against a tall thick tree; as far as he could tell he was out of sight. He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, and withdrew the metal flask he had drank from before. Unscrewing the cap, he sighed and shut his eyes tight. That leg, Isabelle's leg, was still back there in the trap. Bill took a drink. Spicy and smoky, the sour mash ran down Bill's throat and his teeth began to sweat. Soon the bourbon took to his blood and warmed him from the inside. If they got back to the Fort soon, they would be OK.

Bill ran. Catching up, the sight of Colton and his band relived him as well as unnerved him. Colton was a good kid who came from a troubled background. Bill always believed that. On numerous occasions, when Colton had run-ins with the law, Bill persuaded the judge to be much more than fair, on account of his youth and because he was from a broken home. As Colton got older though, it became difficult to find him friends in the justice system.
Now, as the principle currier of food to the Fort, Colton was a much greater part of Bill's life than he ever had been before. The tension, the lack of trust on both sides, must be overcome to get this group to the Fort. Their survival depended on it.

"Now listen. We risked our lives to come and help you out Colton. Alex Cross, you met him, you told him to give us the message. Toby is on his own mission, he's looking for supplies to complete the trade." Bill walked from the back of the group to the front, standing between them and Colton's band. He walked toward Colton, imploring him. "Colton, why don't we just go on back to the Fort together? Its only a few hours walk. This girl is hurt, she needs help. Why don't you show us the food, and we'll all go back to Fort Dixie together?"

Cookie watched, disliking the whole situation but having sense enough not to make any enemies, and they did need to get moving.  All those shots were going to draw Trouble their way; she was tired and less fighting would be better. "It might be a good idea to get back to the Fort," she said, in a soft voice, sounding non-threatening.  This would not fool anyone who knew her, but these guys didn't know Jersey.

And SHE had better not be part of the trade, or things were going to get mighty ugly mighty fast.

Colton's band of survivors focused more attention on the one man still holding out his weapon in a threatening way, yet as Saito and Bill engaged with the leader there came a sense of tensions lessening in some respect. With a simple gesture from Colton following Bill's overture for all to stand down, the bowmen and women surrounding the group began to relax their stance. Bows slowly lowered and became less taut, with handy arrows still securely braced against the strings of the versatile weapon.

Questioned by Saito, one the few he was familiar with from the Fort, Colton chuckled in a condescending manner. "Dogs are everywhere these days. At least the useful ones. I'm sure this one was a police or military mutt. At least it knows to obey and obey well when food is on offer. Good survival instinct. When you think of it, you and your people are kind of like dogs. Hungry, hungry dogs. I bet I could make you do anything for this food, couldn't I?" He let the inconspicuous insult linger a moment, his hand reaching into a front pocket to pull free some dried meat, grasping it briefly before tossing it into the air for his dog to catch once again.
There wasn't much time to address to everyone regarding his presence, and Colton didn't care to warrant some of the insolent survivors with many words. Silently he'd taken a wariness to Ricky after the man's stern reply that he wouldn't hand over the girl they'd hauled from the pit, subsequently filling it with undead.

Attention turned to Bill, one of the two apparent ambassadors for the other group. "Yes, I remember Cross. A fool but and energetic fool. I trust you dispatched him after he served his purpose." He confirmed, linking what they'd been told by a recent visitor to the Fortress.

Surveying the group of most unfamiliar's, Colton gave notice to a ruff-n-tuff but apparently soft-spoken woman. The slightest of grins began to curl at the corner of his mouth before he nodded in agreement.

"Alright then, lets go to your Fort. I'm interested to see what Toby had been able to 'salvage' from the dead to pay us for the food." One of his men standing nearby released a whistle reminiscent of a bird call, and the sound of heavy breathing and rustling leaves filled the air.

Undead appeared behind Colton, riding the elevated ground a distance in the foreground to where the forest floor rose further up. The walking corpses were jawless and armless, their upright but distorted frames swaying oddly patiently and hopelessly, with pale, listless eyes staring down at the assemblage of living peoples. Each were manacled about the neck, and shackled by the feet to one another. Upon each of their backs were strapped heavy hiking packs full of what was presumably the winter food stores for the Fort. A couple of native survivors led the creatures from the front walker, holding the accumulation of chain for the peculiar mutilated chain gang.

"Lets go, before your pegleg girlfriend distracts my slaves." Colton commented to Dominic in what was likely a taunting tone.

-to Fort Dixie, Exterior, (Time Shift)
This message was last edited by the player at 07:56, Mon 17 Nov 2014.

"Well alrighty then. Let's mosey on back to Fort Dixie why don't we. By all means let's follow the mule train of walking corpses back home for supper." He hushed his voice and spoke to the caravan folks only, puting the pistol away, for now. "This don't seem absolutely insane to anybody else? We come all the way out here to meet him, then we turn right back around to go home? What's the point?" Bohannon was skeptical and untrusting. This situation seemed off from the get-go. But he'd bide his time and go on with everybody else...

To Fort Dixie --->

Bloodstained fingers tightened reflexively into fists as he directed a glare in Colton’s direction; the paramedic wanting to shout and scream at him or better yet put one between his eyes, the smug taunting bastard...he’s probably the one who set that damn trap in the first place! He silently fumed doing his best to keep his anger in check knowing that to act on it would only get him and most likely Izzy as well killed.
It was after he’d torn his gaze away from Colton and begun packing away his things in order to get moving again that Bohannon spoke to the group voicing his concern in a low voice so as not to be heard “you reckon we’re being set up?” Dominic asked uncertainly in an equally quiet voice wondering what motive they’d have for doing so, though he had to admit this was like no deal he’d ever heard of. Going all this way to just to then go all the way back again, surely it would have made more sense for them to have done the trade on neutral ground? And why had they left their half of the bargain behind?
“...Maybe they just needed the extra muscle to escort this lot?” he continued though considering how effectively Colton and his crew had dealt with those walkers he somehow doubted that was the case.
Putting his pack and rifle back over his shoulders Dom quickly checks and reloads the pair of handguns he carried; a small smile coming to his face when he found a single round left nestled within the revolver before he then proceeded to pick up Isabelle. Placing one arm beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders he lifts the girl so that her head would rest against his chest; the position somewhat more comfortable than the fireman’s lift he’d used during their head long flight through the trees even if it did mean that he no longer had a free hand to draw a weapon, though with this many people around he hoped that wouldn’t be an issue “ok mes amis assuming what the cowboy says is true what’s our next move?”

Cookie had been raised in Jersey, and knew 'attitude' when she saw it.  Hiding a smirk behind her hijab, she wiped the bat off on the grass and sauntered along with the group, watching the menfolk posture.  She shrugged at Bohannon's outburst, muttering gently, "It ain't our party, hoss, we're just guests."  It WAS damned odd, and she meant to figure it out, but that took observation.  She had a suspicion that the guys Bill had just met were not really the guys he planned on meeting...and that there was something else going on that was beyond strange.  Still, not often you got to see a train of ex-human pack mules, so it wasn't a wasted day.  And if anyone caught her looking at them too long, she'd bat her eyes and look down demurely, just to girl it up a bit.