[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=steelblue]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1] [img]https://31.media.tumblr.com/bcfab66a674d39bfaaddc28bd62d4470/tumblr_inline_ne41kcr5UN1s5par2.jpg[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Southern Gate, LaGrange Street headed North to Inner Gate [/center][hr][hr] Ashton regarded Tatiana's request with a mix of gratitude and suspicion. Two Russian speakers arriving within the same morning, unrelated in any way, was a hell of a coincidence. At least in central Georgia. He slowly nodded, granting her request to stick around and help. [color=steelblue]"Yes. That might be a good idea. But you're staying with the escort. Priority is safety, and you're both new."[/color] He turned to the men on security detail that morning, noting the very ones that previously accompanied Tati and Jack earlier, upon their arrival. Zoie had them trained to keep to their duties, he noted with some satisfaction. She was a newcomer, too. Arrived the previous month, and from the very place that threatened their community. The Apocalypse made for strange allies. This new man was about as strange as they come. Maybe it would work out. Might not though, hence the armed escort. And speaking of Zoie, The radio crackled to life with her voice on the other end. When she intoned that Miss Lily had tried to "have her for breakfast", Ash's forward momentum came to an immediate halt. His mouth fell agape for a second or two, as his brain tried to process the information given and formulate an appropriate response. He had [i]just[/i] had a discussion with someone about Lily. Seems that she had died; Bridgette and Bryn were on burial detail. Ash even reminded them to make sure to get her brain. Seems everyone forgot to mention that Lily's last physical act upon the earth was to rise from the bed in which she passed away and try to make a mid-morning snack out of his Second. That seemed an important detail. Ash pressed the button on his radio, intending to say something Leaderly and Commanding. In his present state of irritation and mild confusion, he was able to mouthe the words, [color=steelblue][i]...what the shit...?[/i][/color] before realizing his thumb had been on the button for a bit too long. He finally snapped from his moment of wanting to strangle someone, addressing the issue. [color=steelblue]"Understood. Take your time. We'll be in the Mess for a while."[/color] The procession moved steadily from the Outer Gate to the Inner Wall, during which Captain Holloway motioned for Tatiana to remain behind for a moment. He looked at her in the stolid, military manner of his former life, searching for any hint of machination or betrayal. [color=steelblue]"Two things: You said his accent was "Cloudy". Muddled over time, rural part of Russia, faking, what? Also, when you said, "Not friend", what exactly did you mean?"[/color] [hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=c0c0c0]The Great Bazhooli[/color][/b][/i][/h1] [img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/0c830ac3-637e-4722-a654-d4192b0bd4c2.jpg[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Southern Gate, LaGrange Street headed North to Inner Gate [/center][hr][hr] The Great Bazhooli was fairly certain that he was not being led off to certain death and consumption by rabid, slobbering half-men. This was good. He would have felt much, much better with his knives back on his person, though. They were part of who he was. While he had no problem hurling other objects, sharp or otherwise, for sport and/or personal defense, those blades were really part of who he was. Hopefully he could get them back soon. Of course, the grim faced man from atop the wall made some mention about getting his stuff back if he expressed a desire to leave. Likely after he was already back out. His rifle, he didn't care quite as much about. It was merely a tool, and a fairly common one at that. He looked to Tatiana, obstinately continuing to speak his own heavily accented brand of English. [color=c0c0c0]"Of course is cloudy, malyshka[sub]1[/sub]. The Great Bazhooli has been many places, seen many things. Life of travel. Come, come! Talk vith me more. Tell me vhat place is like, da?"[/color] The second before the gate clinked closed, a fuzzy orange blur could be seen darting inside. It stopped, sniffed the air a little bit, and let out a quizzical [color=darkorange]"...Meow?"[/color] before locating the object of his search - the strange man with whom he had tussled earlier. The cat wasn't 100% on the smell of livestock coming from the immediate east, it was something he would have to investigate thoroughly later, and just wanted to get to the one human with which he knew he would be safe. The cat turned back into a muted blur of color, making a beeline to Bazhooli's pant leg and digging in with a half territorial, half pleading yowl. The stranger was taken by surprise, crying out from the unexpected feline attachment to his lower extremities. [color=c0c0c0]"Yaah! No, is okay. Is okay. Is only Schrodinger. Little bastard..."[/color] He bent to pick up the mercurial cat, detaching Schrodinger from the cloth and skin that parted beneath his tiny, sharp claws. The process paused the group for only a second or two, leaving The Great Bazhooli to carry the ten pound mass of fur and apathy the remainder of the way inside. [hider=Translations] [sub]1[/sub] - Little Girl (affectionately) [/hider] [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] Burial Site, just east of the Inner Wall [/center][hr][hr] [color=orangered]"Good call. I'll finish the hole meet you at the Wall, 'k?"[/color] said Bridgette to her friend and work partner, Brynja. She settled into getting the last of the loose dirt out of the hole and onto the pile next to her. She considered humming a jaunty, anger filled tune to pass the time, but that led to a near heap of trouble earlier. Too soon. Instead, she kept her ears open and hands busy until the hole was the appropriate width and distance down. Bridgette's work was made ever so slightly more difficult by her insistence upon wearing her bracers and greaves. It was stylish, kind of, but there was more of an element of function involved here, as well. Due to the weapon restrictions put in place by the ruling body of Newnan, she only had access to her weapons if she was working on them, training, or about to go on an "Away Mission". Frigging Star Trek. While it was not her full set of titanium chain armor, it was something. The fact that it also gave the more pain-making parts of her body (elbows, knuckles, forearms, knees, shins, and insteps) steel plating didn't hurt, either. It gave her more options in the event violence was called for. She was used to wearing it, anyway. Felt more comfortable than not having armor at all. Still, she would continue to bitch about not having her spear, or at least her axe, for quite some time. The hole was finally done. Per Ash's request, Bridgette rolled the wrapped body into the opening, careful to ensure that she was face up. While the generally vulgar lady seemed to have little care for little customs like this, everyone else obviously did. [color=orangered]"Well Lily,"[/color] she began to the still corpse of the native Newnanite, [color=orangered]"I didn't get to know you all that well. Hell, this is the longest conversation we've ever had, isn't it? No no, you don't have to answer. I understand that you're dead and all. Just saying, this whole thing sucks. At least it's over for you. Died in your sleep, huh? This day and age, that's goddamned hilarious. Really. I mean, it's not going out in glorious combat, but that was never really your thing, huh? Well, fuckit, old lady. War for you is over."[/color] Bridgette affected a quick salute to the body of the fallen woman, and readied to leave. [color=orangered]"Next time I feel like looking crazy, we'll have ourselves another chat. I mean, you're a hell of a listener. But I got shit to do; so I'm out. Seeyas!"[/color] Unsure as to whether her sudden desire to speak to a dead lady she didn't really know all that well was a product of budding insanity or a poorly executed nod of respect, she tried to laugh it off internally. Turning to the nearest person on the Inner Wall (as she was still quite close), she called up, [color=orangered]"HEY! You've got a radio, right? Tell whoever has their ears on that Lily is in the ground, uncovered, and I'm hauling ass to the crack in the Outer Wall, okay? Thank ya!"[/color] She tidied up her work area, stuck her shovel into the pile of loose dirt next to the almost interred Miss Lily, and mounted Cadence. The next minute or so saw her in route to the eastern section of the Outer Wall. She wasn't a huge fan of coming out that way by herself - it was largely unused, a hopeful area for expansion. There were people posted along the Outer Wall out that way, but it did little to alleviate the hyperaware sense she would get while out that way. Best to get this done and return to her home. She had a few things to accomplish back at her little Newnan stronghold, anyway. [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] Parking Lot between [b]10[/b] (Medical Garden) and Gilbert Street - Present location of his Smoker [/center][hr][hr] There were a multitude of interesting things coming across the airwaves that morning. Many interesting tidbits of information regarding the events of the day, people going about their daily business. Someone died, too! Very sad. James liked Miss Lily. Not a key player, mind you, in the comings and goings of Newman, but she had her moments. As did everyone, really. James made a mental note to visit her gravesite after he was done for the day. The news that she had returned as a Walker came as a massive surprise, when Zoie finally said something over the radio. Then of course, there was Ash's reaction to it. He could tell when dead air came over his walkie, and surmised it was the Captain trying to compose himself before speaking. He could see it now: Ashton, blood pounding in his temples, getting red-faced over the whole gooey ordeal. Probably trying hard not to growl "damnit" in the manner that he does when really annoyed. He was a good guy, mostly, their Captain Holloway. Not sure if vacations were a thing anymore, but James was certain that Ash could use one. Today, a bit of smoked venison and rustic gravy would have to do. When the crops started coming in, he could do them all one better. But for now, do what you can. Keep breathing. Keep others breathing. And make that deer more useful to them in death that it ever could have been in life. [color=firebrick]"Yum muhafuckin' yum."[/color]