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.