[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=steelblue]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1] [img]http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a203/D__S/michael%20biehn/american%20dragons/tonyluca3.png[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Interior Courthouse (Infirmary) [/center][hr][hr] Was that a response? That was a response. Eye flutter, light moan, something? Ok ok, he wasn't dead. Just knowing that triggered the sweet exhalation of relief that, up until a few seconds ago, was a half lungful of stagnant air choking with anxiety. Shoot a man in front of him, Ash could deal with it. He'd seen it enough to decently triage a person inflicted with such a wound; an inexact skill determined from the hit location, coupled with the size of the hole going in versus the size of the hole going out. It was not the first time since this emergency began that he thought of this. A routine medical emergency, though? [i]Now[/i] he was out of his element. For the Doctor, this might be a blessing in disguise. How many people, in this day and age, can it be said of them that they died of natural causes, with friends nearby? There were worse ways to go. Ash had witnessed a few. With certainty, so did Froggy. In all likelihood, Ashton's particular number would be punched by means of a bullet tearing away something vital, or the horrible, ripping death associated with the rotting abominations that now outnumbered the living by well over a thousand to one. Just not this moment. Not today, damnit. He moved, and under his own power. Maybe he wasn't aware of it, but Froggy twitched. [color=steelblue]"Victor, it's Ash. Let me know that wasn't a fluke, huh? Open those eyes for us."[/color] [hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=orangered]Bridgette Vinters[/color][/b][/i][/h1] [img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/d5/b4/78/d5b478ac0063ce48f5bab3cb5648b0a1.jpg[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Exterior Courthouse - Newnan [/center][hr][hr] Bridgette was trying hard not to pay attention to the plucked lovebirds. Tried really hard. Checked and rechecked her gear on Cadence, hummed a little tune even. Considered shoving her fingers in her ears and intoning that most basic of Ignoring Incantations, "LaLaLaLaLaLa". In the end, the sounds of differing but both distinctly Southern accents faded away into whatever redneck corners they chose to withdraw. Bridgette was a bitch - this much was certain. She still didn't want to interfere or intrude into their, umm.. conversation? Yes, conversation, the drama of which she wanted no piece. Much like her Battle Sister, Zoie could take care of herself. Especially as it came to that whiny half-man, DICK. If ever there was a fitting name, Bridgette mused... The verbal equivalent to chalkboard nails receding, Bridgette's mind drifted back to the song she was humming from earlier. She really hadn't thought about music for a very long time. She realized that she missed it. Greatly. Particularly her prized Scandinavian Heavy Metal, a musical style that she would likely never hear again live, ever. Damn near made her wistful. Still facing Cadence, Bridgette's man drifted to the last time she saw one of her favorite bands, Tyr, live in concert. Hell of a trip to make it out that way, too. Good music, good booze, great beatdown in the parking lot after. They ended the concert with an encore of [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzAmAN87nzY]Blood of Heroes[/url], the very song that swiftly found itself stuck in her head on repeat. Not that she minded. Hell, Bridgette even began to sing the chorus in their (more) native Norwegian. [color=orangered]Iron vil - kriger ferdigheter Og hvor langt unna de kjempet Sette oss fri - skjebne For blodet av helter kjøpt...[/color] Granted, it didn't rhyme quite as well as in English, but it was really more the intent and feeling behind the words that moved the lady, whose own name in the Old Tongue described a period of ice and hardship. Hers was an untrained voice, but there was potential. A crystalline voice, forceful yet feminine. With the tutelage of someone skilled and capable of focusing her efforts toward a non-martial end, Bridgette would make an excellent singer. Not [i]right[/i] then, though. Enraptured by the memory of the concert and her own minor foray into song, she didn't notice the difficulty around the corner. She did notice the LOUD and aggravating voice of Dick, commanding her to do... something, in a rather imperative manner that jangled across a very raw nerve reserved for the man. Keeping in line with the language of the moment, Bridgette turned from her horse and began jogging toward the man, growling, [color=orangered]"Denne gangen tar jeg den jævelen tenner..."[/color] Then she saw Bryn whip around the corner with her crossbow at the ready. Pretense faded away as she stepped back into her more survivalist Valkyrie mode. Was there an intruder? Biter in the compound? She had metal covering her forearms and first set of knuckles, but beyond that only good looks and sarcasm to aid in her defense. Fears were confirmed as her changing field of vision included a prone Zoie just up the road, one of the elder Newnanites atop her trying like hell to take a bite. Bryn's crossbow bolt did its work admirably, making her friend safe. If the taller woman hadn't been trying so hard to ignore Act Two of the play unfolding before her, she very likely would have caught this before Zoie went horizontal. This was partly her fault. At least Bosslady was safe, if shaken. Bryn's approach prompted her to speak. [color=orangered]"Shit. Thanks, girl. That... no idea where that came from."[/color] After a second or two of awkward silence, [color=orangered]"I'll get a shovel."[/color] [hider=Translations] [color=orangered]Iron vil - kriger ferdigheter = Iron will - warrior skill Og hvor langt unna de kjempet = And how far away they fought Sette oss fri - skjebne = Set us free - destiny For blodet av helter kjøpt... = For the blood of heroes bought... Denne gangen tar jeg den jævelen tenner = This time, I'm taking the bastard's teeth. [/color] [/hider] [hr][hr][center][h1][color=firebrick]Black James![/color][/h1] [img]https://v.cdn.vine.co/r/avatars/6AE78329E91063505631975227392_pic-r-1396533712688c4afde8ecf.jpg.jpg?versionId=ZnGOSit0zozlhxpJk0w6QVx4cSozVRdq[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Newnan, Inner Wall - Smoker [/center][hr][hr] To recap James's day so far: He woke up, went to work, got diverted from work, began cooking a doe (a deer, a female deer?), and basically was forgotten about by any and everyone else while lot of interesting stuff kept happening. Wasn't all bad, though. The emergency bell wasn't ringing, so that was good. Or not bad, anyway. The time working his smoker gave the jovial yet pragmatic man time to think. He was in charge of the city's Agriculture, and its development. They had plenty of land upon which to grow crops, maybe even a couple of luxury items. If, in their explorations of this brave new world, they should happen to come across another settlement (that wasn't trying to kill them), it would be nice to have stuff for trade. Or even more simply, variation of crops based upon need, want, and seasonality for home. The goal was sustainability, but to do that, they needed both staples and variation. Items that can be easily preserved, true, but also a few items solely for the purposes of keeping up morale. It's funny how easily foodstuffs could do that. Yes, as soon as he was done here, he was going to hit some Chamber of Commerce records. There were places fairly nearby he wanted to visit. [color=firebrick]"BUT FIRST!"[/color] he exclaimed, [color=firebrick]"First, I'ma gonna to take these smoky, rendered fat drippings, make me some Gravy!"[/color] The talk with Ash could wait a few hours.