"Quite so. Let's focus on the problem in front of us then. We need to find a way to knock down that pile, or at least make it too undesirable to climb."

"I have an idea."  She holds up the red fire crystal she's been carrying for years.

"Oh, right, I think I still have one of those too." Beloc rummages through his belongings and pulls out one of the red gems acquired from their trip on the Burrow.

Shiaran hops out onto the wall and starts toward the soldiers, her hands well away from her body to show that she is not aggressive.  Once she is within earshot, she calls out to them.  "Lieutenant Shiaran Whiteraven of the Fildegarne Eisenwölfe unit.  Can you boys use some help?"

[Shiaran is using persuasion and her charm without magic to put the soldiers at ease with her and persuade them to let her help.  Persuade = 18.]

Beloc follows closely behind Shiaran. His hands are empty and he is walking casually, but with purpose.

A few soldiers notice, and one smacks the other on the shoulder to go see. The runner breaks from cover and sprints over to Shiaran and Beloc as audible shots whiz by and crack through the air. He makes it to a large parapet where the two are waiting. Seeing Shiaran's jacket with her rank, he immediately makes a quick salute, but doesn't wait for the return before dropping his own.

"Ain't never heard of no Eisenwölfe unit ma'am. You a special task force or somethin'? An where's your guns?".

"Yes, we are a special unit.  Right now, Lieutenant S'Viscus is in charge of our current mission. "  She motions to Beloc and lets him take over communication now that they aren't going to get shot.

The soldier looks beyond Shiaran at Beloc and raises both eyebrows. He gives a quick salute as well with a customary "Sir".

Beloc snaps a quick salute and lowers it just as fast. "At ease." He looks down the line of men on the wall. "What's the status report here?"

"Situations FUBAR sir. Three quarters of the outter wall are swarmin' with deaders. Like those behind me. It's a tactic they keep using. Pile up the bodies until they have a ladder. They've been down our throats for damn near a Fortnight". He glances at Shiaran, then back to Beloc. "Pardon, Ma'am. They got some sort of magic field up all around us, jammin communications in and out. Brass says they've been trying to hail Langdon and Midway for reinforcements but they can't get through whatever is blocking coms. The arties keep shelling us day an' night, but the crews couldnt piss on the broad side of a barn if you held it for em'. Pardon again, Ma'am. They've breached us twice on the west side. One hole got plugged up, the other not so much. Got fighting in the first few blocks of the city that way, but our arties cut off their reinforcement line so now it's a cat and mouse game to flush em' all out and kill em'. All sorts of weird stuff has happened too. Saw a couple of birds fly over a little while ago. Must be the dumb ones of the flock cause with all the hell raining down-". He pauses for a brief second, noticing Leukos on Shiaran's shoulder, and changes the subject. "Had a whole platoon of deaders up to the north a little ways just drop dead a few days ago. They started puking up green flames as they ran and just dropped. Not before the bastards took out six of our armor though. Ah, pardon..Ma'am".

"Soldier, you don't have to worry about my sweet li'l sensibilities being abraded.  I probably know more profanity than you've ever conceived possible, and have likely used more than you in my young life.  I was raised on the streets.  Please stop saying 'pardon' and treat me like one of you.  I can handle your potty mouth."  Shiaran winks to take the sting out of her words, then turns to Beloc.  "There's some bites we can chew...after we take care of this little ladder issue.  Any preferences?"  She leans in close to whisper, "we should hold off on saying anything about Langdon and Midway.  Let them think its still a comm issue so as not to dishearten them, steal their hope."

Beloc pulls back from Shiaran's whisper. "Green flames, you say? That could have been an intended effect to take out the armor or something else entirely affecting the undead yanking the souls back out of the shells. Based on your observations, do you have any opinions as to which it was?"

He makes a circular gesture in the air. "We had a few scouts feeding us information about their ranks, all the way back to their artillery units, so as for the birds, that was us. However, we need to make sure to keep these walls fortified, so we'll need to focus on clearing out the zombie ladder here. Afterward, we might focus on clearing the streets for any stragglers. The last thing we need is you fine soldiers getting flanked from the inside."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:28, Sat 28 Apr 2018.

"Aye sir. What do ya got in mind? Cause we're running low on pretty much everything. Ammo. Explosives. Warm bodies".

Beloc engages with Shiaran in another whispering match as they discuss options. After several glances over the walls and a handful of nods between the two of them, Beloc addresses the soldier again. "Do you have anything flammable? Oil, gasoline, anything that could spread easily and catch fire."

"Not up here, no sir. There's an oilman's warehouse two blocks west of here though. They should have quite a few pints in crates, if the riff raff haven't been out lootin'".

Beloc glances west. "That's actually not too far. Can you spare a man or two to help fetch a couple crates? Shiaran and I will accompany to watch their flanks and get them up here safely."

Apache gives a sharp bark to remind Beloc he is still there. "Yes, you too."

"Apache here will keep an eye out as well."

"Yes sir, we can do that". He whistles sharply, and makes a few hand gestures. Two more soldiers break from cover and come running over. One is immediately struck in the head through his helmet by a rifle round. A stream of blood exits the hole in his head as he topples lifelessly down on the interior side of the wall, landing with a heavy thud and crack. The other puts a hand on his helmet as he sprints, keeping low. He slides across the last 5 feet of ground to cover and more shots whiz by. He's an older man, with a creased forehead underneath a salt and pepper close cropped buzz cut. A bushy grey mustache sits under his large nose. "There better be a good Tyr damned reason why three of us got called over and why that boy just died..sir". The older soldier doesn't bother giving a salute, and nearly spits the word sir. "Sarge, they have a plan for the deaders down there". The salty old veteran maintains his annoyed expressions, but says nothing. "They need us to raid the oilman's warehouse, over on Brandywine street".

The sergeant stays kneeling for a moment more, before a tired sigh escapes him. "I see" he says, glancing back over to his former spot on the wall. "Alright... What kind of volume are we talking here?".
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:34, Sat 28 Apr 2018.

Beloc quickly pops his head over the wall to get an estimate of the dogpile. More rounds zip by their location, but none connect, and he ducks back down.

"How many pints in a crate are there?"

One of the soldiers pipes up. "8, sir!"

After some quick math in his head, which may have proven more difficult that it should, Beloc concludes, "If each of you can manage a couple crates each, and I strap one on to Apache here we should have enough to cover the bulk of that mound. After that, Shiaran and I take care of the rest."

He looks to the soldiers, but most of his attention is on Shiaran. "Any questions?"

The old veteran looks Beloc square in the eye. "Yeah, one. Who the hell are you two?".

He gives the sergeant a sideways glance before realizes he wasn't introduced. "Lieutenant Beloc S'Viscus. We're with the Eisenwölfe unit, dispatched from Langdon to help deal with these undead."

Shiaran speaks sweetly as if introducing friends at a party.  "I'm Lietenant Shiaran.  This is Leukos.  That's Lieutenant Beloc.  The cute one there is Apache.  And you're Sergeant Wastingourtime."  The last sentence is said very hard core military.

Sarge let's out the slightest smirk, almost invisible to the naked eye. "Let's move. Dunnegan, take point, I'll cover our rear. Our "guests" can take center column. Move it".

The young soldier doesn't hesitate and immediately follows his senior enlisted's orders, traipsing down the marble stairway behind. He looks left then right, and signals an all clear in the alleyway.

Beloc nods to Shiaran. "Alright, let's go. Apache, keep your nose to the ground and let us know if you smell not living."

Beloc issues a command akin to 'Fetch undead'.

Shiaran moves out, but rather than stay with the group, she keeps to the rooftops, looking for targets.  She keeps her shortbow out, missing her guns and sword the entire time, praying for Sypher to hurry and to be okay at the same time.

[Stealth - 24]
This message was last edited by the player at 03:30, Sun 29 Apr 2018.

Shiaran is able to keep up with the group on the ground superbly, with no lack of thanks to Fildegarian architecture cramming buildings together and even having the occasional covered walkway span over the streets across 2nd and 3rd stories of buildings.

The trip two blocks west is done so at a pace that applies caution and haste into swift and precise movements. Dunnegan checks every corner, while Sarge ensures the rear remains unflanked.

The warehouse appears around the last corner. It takes up the size of 6 regular sized homes, and is two stories tall. Shiaran is able to find a path to its roof as well. Next door to the warehouse as a church with a tall steeple. The church tower is ruined from a stray artillery round, and the entire upper half of the steeple has toppled over onto the roof of the warehouse, caving in much of it. The hole in the roof gives a perfect view of the majority of the insides of the place. Much of the stock is ruined now, with large metal shelves knocked over, bursting open crates and their oily content. The floor inside is slick, and standing water has started to pool from the recent rains, leaving rainbow colored oil slicks on the surface.