In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 808):

Jane kept watch as the smoke from her SAW dissipate.  She stopped firing, checked her ammo but kept an eye out for stragglers as well as another wave to come through.

Jason holsters his P-90c and draws Evanor and starts to perform triage. Meaning killing the remaining trogs that aren't quite dead just yet. Starts close and works his way out.

Echoes of gunfire and explosions faded away. A smell of cordite, gunpowder, blood and other unpleasant bodily fluids hung in the air (and stained the concrete floor).

Many of the trogs were dead. Most were not, but they were badly wounded and/or unconscious. A few wounded mewled in pain, some tried to crawl away.

At the SUVs, it became obvious why the SAW gunners went quiet. Both Mandy and Greg were dead. Each had been shot once, in the head. The shot placement, and the rapid-fire nature of the attacks suggested the work of an expert sniper. Buck instructed his crews to get going, it was the end of the line for them.

Schaeffer quietly mounted the loading dock. He couldn't hear any movement in the open loading bay doors off the sides, or the ramps at the far end of the chamber.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 811):

Buck helped secure his dead crew members. The others saddled up and got ready to move.

"Holy shit. Well, I lost two people here. Time for us to beat feet for the surface! You guys are on your own now.

"Just remember, take the left exit ramp. That'll lead to a boiler room, there's a hatch there. Good luck. I'll meet you at the I-15 turn off to City Hall in four hours."

As he is giving mercy to the nearest trog Jason pauses and says "I am sorry for your loss Buck truly I am. I only have one question.  What direction were they shot from?"

In reply to Jason Sinclair (msg # 813):

Buck thought for a moment, then gestured towards the end of the chamber.

"They were shot in the face. Bullets must have been coming from the north. One of the exit ramp, that'd be my guess. Assuming you didin't find a trog with a sniper rifle?"

In reply to Buck Masterson (msg # 814):

"Sorry all out of sore thumbs." as he finishes the last breathing trog. "I will pray that the Saints help them on their way."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:26, Sun 13 Dec 2015.

Smoker peered in the direction from which the shots appeared to have come from.

"Doesn't look like the work of the average troglodyte. See ya later, Buck. Stay safe."

Vundra plug his gun into his body battery and recharges it. He then slowly moves up and climbs up onto one of the platform.

Trask went over to Buck "Sorry about your people my friend, that was a shitty draw. I will see you top side." He then get down to trying to find their prey, scanning the ground and surroundings for the start of the trail.

Increase Trask rolled 9 using 4d8+2, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 5,6,6,7.

Peter shook his head. Expert sniper work was beyond trogs, as far as he knew. And none of the trogs seemed that well-armed...or even well-armed at all really. That meant the Combine most likely. So they'd need to be wary of that sniper, and anything else the Combine might be stirring up behind them, as he bet they had stirred up the trogs to attack the posse.

"Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Masterson. It will not be forgotten." He glanced at Jane, his face stone-etched but showing enough hard firmness for her to know he was angry. More loss of life on their path.

He turned and started heading towards the direction Buck had told them to go.

"I understand Buck. Get your people out of here and good luck on your way out." The Colonel wasn't happy about loosing their guide, but he could understand why Buck needed to leave. He signalled to Laurin to cover him while he found a new covered position from where he would cover her while she moved. Leapfrogging, they made their way towards the end of the loading dock.

OOC: 20:10, Today: COL Kurt L. Schaeffer rolled 13 using 4d8, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 5,(8+5)13,6,4.  sneak.
20:10, Today: COL Kurt L. Schaeffer rolled 2 using 2d8, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 1,2.  cognition.
Deaf, blind, but really sneaky....

Rowan sends her new rifle and her LMG back with the truck, and moves with the rest of the group

The grizzled underground guide looked a little shaken by his losses.

"Thanks for the kind words, ya'all. This was about as far as I was gonna take you, anyways. Can't get the SUV's down them ramps anyhow. Remember, take the left one to go down."

He shook hands all around. "OK, let's saddle up. Remember, four hours at the junction, or else see you topside. When I come back it'll be with the Militia, so maybe give it six hours for them to get their shit wired together."

Buvck handed off one of the M249A4 SAWs and a spare ammo belt to Trask. "You probably can use this. I expect you to be returning that shootin' iron intact!"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:13, Wed 16 Dec 2015.

The SUVs began backing up and turning around to get out of there and return to the surface.

Schaeffer and Knapp made it to the north end of the loading docks. From there they could cover anyone debouching from the exit ramps to the north or the open loading bays to the east.

As the rest of the Posse made their way towards the left hand ramp, they passed by the still-warm corpses of the Trogs. Surprisingly, their blood wasn't green or black like fantasy monsters' but as red as anyone else.

Trask's thermal FLIR sensors didn't seem to point out anyone hiding, at least not in this large chamber. The myriad of tracks blended together in a slowly-fading web from both ramp exits.

Bodies lay everyone. They found a few more still breathing, as Jason simply hadn't had the time to come here and finish them all off. Fortunately, none seemed to be putting up a fight or begging for mercy. At least in this area, where the first trogs went down, some of them smaller in size. One of the smaller seemed to still be moving, trapped under the bleeding and torn bulk of one of the larger trogs that had protected it from the incoming fire that mowed down others in the first wave of attackers. It seemed to be crying and saying something, although the words were difficult to hear due to its malformed palate and/or vocal cords.

The Colonel settled in to cover the approaches as he was waiting for the rest of the posse to move up to his position.

Trask moves up and once in position say: "Looks like our shooter has made a run for it, or at least he is not showing on my sensors." If he comes across crawling Trogs in his path he uses his suits foot to end their suffering. When he finds the one under its heaver brethren Trask grabs it by the neck and drags it out.

"All right little man lets see what you have to say for yourself."

 Maura moves to join her love smiling at him as she does so.
" you need a shower" she teases as she settle beside keeping watch with him

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 825):

The trog, which was smaller than the others, seemed about as big as a 10-year-old boy and was dressed in rags. Im fact, it seemed male. The trog whimpered and struggled weakly in Trask's grip. It gave up and looked at the female trog that had sheltered it.

"Wake... up... mommy... My mommy... won't... won't wake up..."

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 827):

"Frag! The little guy is intelligent. Great it's bad enough we ended the mother. We can not end an innocent. I damned well warned them it was a matter of time. First trogs next is wormlings. He might be saveable I at the least have to try." Jason sounds resolute in his stance as if a dark secret or hard needful thing is driving his stance. "If he attacks us that is one thing, but I refuse to harm him otherwise."

Rowan Looks over her shoulder and sighs "so it is written so it shall be", she adds softly

"Would you like me to look after him?" asked Smoker.

"He can tag along if he wants. If we all get out of here, then we can see about finding someone to take him on."

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 830):

"No Smoker I think your assistance would prove valuable, but this is my cross to bear. Trask please put him down."

In reply to Jason Sinclair (msg # 831):

Trask had the Trogs head clasped in his suits right hand and was about to do the deed. "Who... what, you want to keep him ?" He looks at the Trog then back at Sinclair "Sure, sure, some sort of pet." Trask turns and places the Trog on the ground at Sinclair's feet.

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 832):

Rowan examined the young trog. It was obvious that this was actually a young boy, probably twelve years old. He was severely mutated (Trogs being extreme examples of Muties) but otherwise unhurt. But he was severely traumatised and suffering from shock.

Although his overall skin colour was green and his features were a little twisted, he still resembled the preteen human boy he used to be in many ways. As well, unlike other trogs, he seemed to still retain much of his human intelligence.