Unsteady but determined. Kea hoisted herself up on the horse with Charlies help. She wraps her  arms around Charles as they move. Holding her breath until a minute passes in trot.

On the Roof

Grímur blinked a few times in the sudden light. Even with the tint over the motorcycle helmet's visor it was uncomfortable. He strolled leisurely to the edge of the roof and finally ceased whistling as he surveyed the area below. Dead person, dead person, another dead person - aha, an alive person! On a crashed truck, with seemingly not a care in the world. Interesting place for a picnic. Not that he was one to talk. He had taken up some questionable positions since the beginning of the end and was about to take another one.

Grim put a boot up on the edge of the building, bent his knee and rested an arm atop it. He leaned forward to get a better look at the man. He grinned. "HELLOOOO!" he shouted, projecting his voice in a way that could give most operatic singers a run for their money. He waved his other arm, brandishing the large spear, wobbling precariously. "That's a good spot!"

He guffawed like he'd just told a hilarious joke then sighed, reeling in the sudden wave of giddy hysteria. "I think mine is better though! Want to come up?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:21, Tue 07 May 2019.

One the Roof - Grimur

At Grimur's call, the person on the drop turns their head to locate the source of the voice. Its hard to make out their face at this distance, however, Grimur notices spots of blood on the person's head.

The man stands. For a moment, he looked as if he is about to shout back until something stops him abruptly. Instead, he waves his arm back at Grimur. He stares at the bottle in hand and pours the content down in his belly. Once he's done, the man sets down the bottle to the side and pulls something out of his bag. He touches his head, then at whatever he has in hand, then touches his forehead again. He repeats this process until he reaches for the bottle. The stranger assumes a stance of tossing a football. He motions the movement a few times. On the fourth time, he tosses the bottle at Grimur.

*CLUNK*

The bottle shatters on the roof. There's a sheet of paper inside.

On the Roof!

Grímur stared at the man for a few seconds after he tossed the bottle. Then he pushed himself away from the edge and bounded over to read the note. It was written in blood.

"Ógeðslegur..."

He started to tuck the note into his jacket pocket, realized what he was doing, and let it flutter to the ground. He went back to the ledge and peered at the stranger. It was probably a good idea to be quiet... The apartment didn't have dead people in it yet and he'd like to keep it that way. He put the butt of his spear on the ground, leaned into it, and put one hand up - the universal gesture for wait.

"I'll save you!" he couldn't help but yell, as if the man needed clarification. There was quite a bit of bravado in how he crowed the proclamation. He straightened up again, lifting the spear, and gave a small bow - he slid one foot back, still bowed, and left like he was exiting a stage.

He moved over to the edge and studied the perpendicular building. The gap looked manageable to him. He was pretty sure he could jump it. He was very good at jumping. However if the man needed to come back to this building and wasn't a good jumper, especially given the head injury, that could be... problematic. He'd basically just be taking him up somewhere higher to inevitably fall into the hungry, dead mouths below.

So Grim resigned to searching for a ladder, or something to bridge the gaps. If he was lucky there might be one up on the roof, but if not he would go back into the apartment building and search for a maintenance closet or something of that nature. He would also collect as many bedsheets as he could find and/or carry back to the roof.

On the Roof - Grimur

Grimur searches the apartments room by room. Luckily enough, no one thought their bed sheets would worth anything when they abandoned their homes in such a short notice. In a matter of minutes, he's collected more than enough bed sheet to allow a prince to climb into a tower.

Grimur sees no ladder in sight that he could use. He does sees an alternative object that could serve as a makeshift bridge. One of the beds he searched had a somewhat solid wooden board. Its hard to tell if it will hold if someone does walk over it.

In the Pines - Charlie and the woman

With Charlie's help, Kea ascends onto the horse's back. At Charlie's signal, the horse trots off into the trees.

As Mike instructed, Charlie steers the horse along the stream. There's no signs of the town yet. It'll be a while before they reach their destination. The group estimates they're about half way to the town. Having three people on its back, Charlies notices Bitters trotting slower, and heavier than usual.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:38, Tue 07 May 2019.

On the Roof

Grímur towed his newfound goods back up to the roof. On the way back he also looked for something he could use as a small weight to help throw the sheet down - a rock, a brick, a toaster, anything. He shifted the sheets bundled in his arms and waved enthusiastically at the man again to show he had in fact returned. Then he set about tying the sheets together in a rope. He double then triple-checked the knots, trying to ensure it wouldn't come undone.

Once the sheets were tied together in a long rope, he wound it up a few times and slung it over his shoulder. Grim brought the plank over. He bridged the gap between the buildings. He took a moment to look down at the alley below - trying to see if there was a fire escape or anything to hold onto if worse came to worse...

"Vinsamlegast ekki brjóta," he told the makeshift bridge, putting up a gloved hand as if to pacify it. "Vinsamlegast ekki brjóta, nei..."

Taking up his spear he moved back to the edge and gave the man a thumbs up. Then he hopped up onto the ledge like a cat and hurriedly tried to cross the "bridge." It really wasn't very thick. Calling it a bridge was somewhat insulting to actual bridges.

Being a heavy burden on his horse's back was in itself a burden on Charlie's conscience; with Bitters's, well, bitter temperament, it was easy to forget how she'd whisked Wren and him to safety not too long ago. "We're dismounting at the edge of town," he said, looking over his shoulder at Kea, "It'll give the horse some time to rest -- hide her from your cannibal buddies," he wasn't about to get over that troublesome reveal any time soon. "We'll go to your meeting point, and if they're not there, we'll be leaving in five minutes. Mike can decide what to do with you then, I'm..." Charlie held his opinion back, but Wren could see the hardened frown, eyes that darted around uncomfortably. Strangers were always a danger; he'd told her that in the past.

On the Roof - Grimur

Grimur spots a few loose bricks in the corner of the rooftop. They are heavy enough to serve as a proper weight for his purpose. He also sees the fire escape in between the first gap he would have to cross. Should the bridge collapse, they could be the fail safe that he could latch onto. It is quite a drop from the rooftop. If he suspends himself on the edge of the railing for a fall, it will mitigate some of the landing impact.

Now that the makeshift bridge is in place, Grimur should be able to cross safely.

The man stranded on the truck locks eyes on Grimur's every movement. Grimur still can't see his face, but he can tell the stranger is watching him closely with concern.

On the Roof

Grímur tossed the brick over to the other roof. There were fire escapes below. That was good. He felt the back of his neck prickle and turned his masked head to see the injured man staring at him. He gave a thumbs up. Considering how high up he was, and how rickety the bridge looked, there was something entirely too loose and relaxed about Grim's body language. It was more appropiate for someone taking a stroll in the park, not hopping around building tops.

He stepped onto where the bridge met the ledge and began to cross. Assuming it didn't break, he would take the board again and repeat the process with the next gap until he was above the stranger.

On the Roof - Grimur

Now that Grimur's directly above the cargo truck, he has a clear frontal view of the destroyed vehicle. Parts are sticking out of the hood. it doesn't take a proper mechanic to determine that this vehicle will no longer run. He sees the stranger squinting and smiling back at him. The upper left of his forehead is stained with blood, presumably his. The stranger has a short, brown straight hair. There's a few pigments of blood in his scruffy beard as well. Despite his current condition, he still has a fair face.

"You're insane." The stranger speaks in a raspy voice. His voice sounds both exhausted and sick.

There's a good distance between the truck the stranger is standing on and the building. The sidewalk in between is currently occupied by a crowd of ghouls.

The truck trembles mildly when the desperate hands claw against it. A few straggling ghouls notices the scene. They shambles towards the truck and decides to join their friends in the mosh pit.

On the Roof

Grímur tilted his head innocently. Who me? Hm. Walking on the roof didn't seem like a very big deal. He reasoned it was not much crazier than blasting music and crashing a cargo truck. He disappeared from the edge of the building to tie his rope blanket off on something and in a moment returned, the end of the blanket now wrapped around the brick. That way he could anchor it down to the street.

"How sick are you?" he called down. He leaned over the ledge. "If I distract them in the other alley, will you be well enough to climb up?"

He hoisted the rope blanket demonstratively. Noticing the dead people getting more excited, he whistled sharply at them. "Stöðva það, ljót!"

On the Roof

"Mild concussion, dehydration, " the stranger touches his forehead, "and alcohol intoxication."He nods slowly at Grimur's second question.

Only a handful of ghouls turn their heads to Grimur at his call. Most of them are still mesmerized by the stranger's flesh standing just out of their arms reach. If he lowers the rope of bed sheets, the stranger will need to leap across the ghouls to grab onto it. Between the stranger and where the rope will land, there's about twenty four rotting hands waiting to grab hold of the stranger. If he jumps now, he will only have one chance with this leap.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:11, Wed 08 May 2019.

On the Roof

Grímur's helmet bobbed as he nodded. Concussed, drunk. Well, hopefully he could still climb.

"Okay..." He drummed his fingers on the ledge. "I'm going to lower this rope. Then I'm going over there," he pointed to the next building, "and I'm going to make a lot of noise. Lay back, don't make noise, don't let them see you anymore. Come climb over when the rotna fólk leave. Okay?"

His head tilted inquisitively. If the man agreed, he'd lower the rope then cross over the makeshift bridge to the other building. He dropped down to the fire escape then started banging the end of his spear against the metallic railing, making a terrible racket, and commenced absolutely belting Life's a Cabaret at the top of his lungs. The dead people were going to get quite the performance.

Grimur rolled 21 using 2d10+7. Agility.

On the Roof

"Alright, let's give it a shot." The stranger says. He shoots a smile at Grimur before he lies flat on to of the cargo truck.

Grimur himself descends down to the fire escape and begin his performance. Object of permanence does not appear to be one of the ghouls' strong suit. A few of them begin shambling away from the truck and towards Grimur to watch his performance. One by one, they attend the show. After about a good several minutes, nearly all of them are reaching their hands out to the performer.

Meanwhile, the stranger carefully climbs down from the top of the truck. Grimur sees the stranger retrieve something from the front seat before heading for the rope. A few ghouls notice his presence and limp towards him. However, by the time they realize their original prey is on the move, the man is already half way up the building. He crosses the 'bridge' and stands over Grimur. The stranger offers his hand to pull Grimur up back to the rooftop.

On the Roof

The shambling mass of rotten people was not Grímur's favourite audience he ever had, but beggar's could not be choosers and the show must go on. He kept banging the metallic end of his spear against the railing to the beat as he sang, his voice pleasantly carrying each note and loudly projecting in a way that spoke to formal theater training. It didn't seem to matter to him all that much that the crowd had the cognitive faculties of a handful of raisins. He sang his best. He was even dangerously close to enjoying himself. There hadn't been many chances to be unabashedly noisy the past few weeks. It was very nice.

Once the man was safely on the roof, Grímur turned to the crowd one final time. He spread his arms out, as if all the sickly moaning were cheers of admiration, and gave a neat bow. "Takk fyrir, takk fyrir!" he called. He gave another small bow then ascended the fire escape.

He was a little surprised to see the sick man waiting to help him. "Aha!" He laughed and accepted his hand. "My hero!"

He helped heft himself up over the ledge. He scrambled quickly to his feet and let out a big, relieved whew! "Were you the one playing the music last night?" he questioned. He took off his helmet (he'd learned it hiding his face made people nervous) and wiped his brow, smiling and looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Well, glad you did not get eaten in any case. My name is Grímur, my American friends call me Grim, but of course they are all dead now."

No correlation, he was sure. He offered his hand for a handshake, though he guessed being pulled up had already been a weird handshake anyway. He glanced at the man, trying to get an idea of how badly injured he'd been.

On the Roof

Grimur catches a heavy scent of whiskey and scotch when being up close to the stranger. The stranger points his finger at the crash scene below at Grimur's first question.

"That truck I was driving was, its a bit of a story." The man accepts Grimur's hand and return a firm shake.

"Halló, Grimur." The stranger's eyes look up to the sky, as if trying to recall a lost memory.

"Gaman að kynnast þér." He enunciates his words slowly. Its clear he's not a native speaker like Grimur. The stranger pauses briefly before speaking again. "Ég heiti..." He looks back to Grimur.

"Ralph." Ralph offers Grimur a smile. "Thanks for saving me."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:58, Wed 08 May 2019.

Grímur's pale eyes went wide and he laughed. He was surprised to hear someone speaking his native tongue after so long. Even if it wasn't particularly good. Not for the first time it occurred to him if things continue this way, he will probably never see home again, and that isn't a pleasant thought so he stops thinking about it.

"Ekkert að þakka," he waved a hand dismissively, like it was no big deal. "It was no problem. Not like I had anything better to do. There's no more TV. Boredom will kill me before the dead do."

It didn't sound like he was joking. Had he helped the stranger out of good will or simply having nothing better to do? He secured the motorcycle helmet back on his head, took up the spear, and deftly hopped up on the building's ledge. "I was going to search this apartment, before I saw you," he said, strolling across the makeshift bridge. "We will have to lay low until they get bored and clear out, anyway. Maybe we'll find water to clean your wounds."

He hopped down onto the next building and turned to help Ralph across. "How did you come across a working vehicle? And why would you crash it, that wasn't very smart of you. They are hard to come by."

He'd only seen a couple. All the cars he'd checked had been drained of gas or had unfriendly people driving them.

Ralph covers his embarrassment with a soft smile when Grimur laughs at his Icelandic. He crosses the last gap with Grimur.

"Well I... One of the tire gave out." Ralph closes his eyes for a moment and touches the wound on his forehead before answering Grimur's question. "We didn't find the truck." He sighs heavily. "I came from a hotel resort up in the mountains, we had fences around the place. Someone drove the truck through and lured the dead inside with that music. I need... I need a moment." Ralph turns away and sits on down on the railings.

Kea gently rests her head on Charlie back as the horse continues its canter to town. She used most of her energy attempting not to get sick, focusing on her own breathing as she inhaled, held and exhaled. Only when Charlie speaks does she lift her head. Attempting to hide her discomfort with a smile.

"I can see why we made cars." She said.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:30, Thu 09 May 2019.

"Okay." Grim leaned on the railing too and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Don't pass out."

He wondered if there was a lot of people at the resort. He made a mental note to stay away from there. "Why did they do that?" he pressed after a moment, even though Ralph kind of looked like he wanted to throw up. "Were they crazy? Did you piss them off? That's why I stay away from big groups, they're all crazy, or pissed off, or shaking me down for ammunition or cans of beans, so if you want to go back you will have to take yourself there, I've already been robbed quite a lot and it's getting annoying."

Rappelling Ralph up the side of a building had been fine, but trekking up to the mountains to find a bunch of probably crazy people apparently didn't meet Grim's requirements for an amusing way to pass time.

On the Roof

"Hmm." Ralph chuckles in amusement at Grimur's suggestion.

"The person that did this,... he's pretty angry with me. But I'm not the reason why he did it." Ralph rests both of his hands on his knee. "There's probably nothing to go back to now." An air of melancholy shadows the man when he stares off the rooftops. He draws in each breath heavily for the next few seconds before speaking again.

"I like your voice. You used to sing?" He asks.

On the Roof

"Ah." Grímur nodded wisely after Ralph explained the man's actions... Somewhat vaguely. "Kúkalabbi. Pissed off at everyone, then."

He settled further back against the railing, looking much more comfortable than someone pressed against a hard rail had any right to be. He was waiting for Ralph to get his bearings so he could search the apartments.

"Oh, thank you. Yes. For alive people," he answered. His head tilted. It was hard to tell what he was conveying with the helmet. Nonplussed? Amused? "Musical theater, mostly. I wanted to make a proper living off it one day, see Broadway." He laughed, mostly at himself. "I still might even though no one is there anymore. I'm going to California too, to see Hollywood. Also Arizona. I haven't been there yet. I want to see the, uh, big hole... Grand Canyon, já?"

He nodded again, sounding very confident in his sightseeing plans.

Near the Church

After following the stream for some time, Charlie, Wren, and the woman find themselves near the town's border. Charlie hitches the horse in a secluded area, safe from prying eyes. Wren bids her farewell to the horse with a hug. The three of them head towards the town on foot.

Almost immediately, they see the trampled bushes and tire marks on the road leading into town. They see the church up ahead, and just across the street is a truck that had crashed into an electric pole. There's a rope descending down from the top of a building. The driver presumably used it to escape from the ghouls that's scattered around the truck. There's at least fifty of them wandering around the area. The trio does see the church, however, they will definitely attract unwanted attention from the dead if they approach it directly.

On the Roof

"I don't think there's much left to see in Broadway." Ralph comments. The man dusts off his knees and stands. "Grand Canyon." He repeats the words. "Now that's something still worth seeing. I used to jog every weekend on a mountain trail, its good exercise."

Ralph gestures his hand at the roof escape door. "I'm better now." He says. "If you do end up on Broadway, send me a ticket to your show."

On the Roof

“Of course!” Grímur chirped. “Front row seats. It’s a good thing you were a runner. You’ll have to beat the crowds.”

He bounded ahead to the fire escape, leading the way back into the apartments. There was an energetic bounce in his step. He was a little glad to have a real person to talk to, one that even seemed friendly. Talking to himself had been getting old. He hadn’t really noticed how unhealthy the isolation had been until now.

“This is where I slept.” He led Ralph to the room he had hunkered down in last night. Some of the furniture had been rearranged as a precautionary barricade and moved again, there were blankets strewn on the couch, and other basic amenities the homeowner hadn’t deemed important enough to take. “I didn’t sleep in the bed. It feels like bad luck. Does that make sense? Anyway, you can rest here if you like, I would offer food but I have none. I’m going to search the other apartments for something to clean your wounds.”

He made a small gesture, somewhere between a wave and salute, and continued on to search the other rooms.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:30, Fri 10 May 2019.

A distant mountain town could never have been good news, large congregations of the living never were. As Charlie marched through the snow, ax firmly in his hands, he could see why. The snowswept buildings carried the voices of the dead, their moans echoing eerily in the air. "Stay close to me, Wren," Charlie warned his niece, trusting her to remember what he'd taught her to do in situations concerning walkers: mimic his every move, call out possible threats, and let him carry her to safety. Their goal soon became clear, with the small caveat of a direct path being blocked by a small army of walkers. "Goddammit," he muttered, "Thought they'd be frozen up here."

While the horde may be riled up, Charlie could count on their consistent stupidity. "We'll take a long way around," he said, beckoning for the girls to follow him as he attempted to move around them at a wide berth. Whether that took them around buildings or not, he didn't care -- anything was better than alerting walkers to their presence.