Sergeant Hoff fixed the Elven Inquisitor with an appraising single eyed stare, before he turned back to Roland- the conscript soldier and nodded. [b]"Aye,"[/b] he said with a short chortle, as he adjusted his armor. [b]"It is as the elf says- shamblers are like the undead found on Yggdrasil, creatures with nothing on the mind save the destruction of all that is living. But unlike the undead of Yggdrasil- the Shamblers here are a bit different- faster, more attuned to their surroundings, more aggressive, and most importantly- much quieter."
[/b]

[b]"I have no doubt you'll be able to run faster than they, conscript, but at the same time, keep your wits about ye, yeah?"[/b] Chimed in one of the Corporals with a sneer, regarding Roland with a disdainful look. The other Corporals shrugged and offered similar stances to the rest of the group. While some of the newcomers looked more battle hardened than the rest, they were all little more than greenhorns in the New World. 

[b]"Anyway, lets be off- Westkirk is a hard march some distance North, and we'll not get there by sitting here fluffing about."[/b] Sergeant Hoff commanded, as the two large armored men on either side of the gate began operating the massive winches. The strained groan of wood and creaking metal grated across their ears as the gate began to raise up, the watchmen on the gatehouse staring out attentively into the distance, their rifles drawn, in case anything tried to run at the opening door. The thick reinforced door rose into the air, rising to approximately 7 feet in height, for the soldiers to make their way through- walking underneath, they could see the wooden timbers to be almost a foot thick, with broad iron bulges embedded into the bottom of the door. Difficult to open, but quick and easy to drop and let shut perfect for an emegency and sealing the inside away from the horrors outside the gate- though anyone stuck outside the gate when the horrors came had no chance in hell of the door opening in time for them to flee.    

The ruins of Stratton were bleak- brick, wood and timber structures of Ilyan style stood in dilapidated and crumbled states of disrepair, the buildings nearest to the wall haphazardly demolished, their materials likely used to form the wall itself, leaving a fifty foot stretch of no man's land around the wall before the crew entered the ruined city proper. The ruins were dreadfully quiet, with little noise at all save the [i]crack[/i] of rifles in the far distance, and the crunch of their boots against powdered glass and stone. Occasionally the silence would be broken by the echoing [i]caw[/i] of a raven, followed by the rapid fluttering of wings, as half a dozen flew up into the distant sky, their perch disrupted- a tell tale sign that while they city ruins felt empty, they were definitely not alone in this place.

They advanced in some semblance of a formation, one of their Corporals- a pathfinder, in the front of a wedge, followed by Ceridwen and another corporal. The conscripts and Hoff made up the center of the formation, while the elf inquisitor and the remaining corporals brought up the rear. Etherguns drawn, the team quietly made their way through the center of the dead, abandoned city. 

One of the corporals in the rear gave a sharp hiss and the click of his tongue. [b]"I thought I saw something-"[/b] he said, pointing down a dark alleyway crowded by rubble. [b]"Let's pick up the pace, huh? I don't like the idea of being pounced by shamblers in close quarters."[/b]