[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c3/2a/d5/c32ad53279d627f66861cb579e4b3fb8.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] Headland: E. Main Street, E8 (inside Hordebuster)
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] Leadership [/center][hr][hr]

	The rain seemed merciless. It battered down with such ferocity that Ash could have sworn that there was a hurricane inbound. Or right on top of them. Aside from the torrential downpour, there was no other indication of something quite so damaging as that. Hell, the rain might even have been a blessing. Its presence threw the Dead off just as much as the living, and more practical necessities geared Ash's thoughts toward potable water, so long as it held up. It might be helpful if they had a system for that on standby.

	Now [i]that[/i] was an idea worth merit. Ash was, once upon a time, an Engineer with the U.S. Army. When he wasn't establishing an inroad for troop movement, his work had decent overlap with civil projects, including providing means of gathering water based upon the location and environment. Under ordinary circumstances, it wouldn't take much to craft a rainwater collection system that was easy to use and maintain. He had done exactly that more than a few times, though on a much larger scale. But facing facts, there hadn't been [i]ordinary circumstances[/i] for the last five years. Simple things like installing gutters now required an act of conscious forethought and tiny bits of prayer that they could find or improvise the materials necessary. It was aggravating sometimes. 

	Speaking of aggravating, the rain was beginning to piss Ash off. Even if this was an ambush setup, which he was having serious doubts about, this weather was making it nearly impossible to cover his people due to limited hearing and visibility. If anyone else were hiding behind the bushes or up a tree someplace, they were bound to be miserable. It was a hell of an anomaly coming across a Nun in the middle of nowhere, and it could very well be just as it appeared. It reminded him of a day when Viking women rode up to the gates of Newnan, insulted him continuously, and still got in. They became valuable members of the community despite how it began, and just then, Ash missed them terribly. 

	Well, he had experienced all he wanted to from this event. Ash pulled his rifle and himself back into the cab of the Hordebuster and wiped down the barrel as best he could on the quick. He leaned his head back out for a moment to bellow over the pounding rain, [color=4682b4]"[i]Get in the goddamned truck![/i]"[/color] and sliding the grate back into place, rolling up his window, and getting ready to receive uncertain guests. 
	



[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/e4117d5f-65c8-4b8e-98df-5810a59267c5.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] Quincy: D13
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] Survival [hr][hr][/center]

	Manny was saying something; Thalia was sure of it. It was probably something vaguely doctorish, but she didn't want to hear it. It was all going to point in one direction anyway - her hand and part of her forearm were coming off. She liked that hand. A lot of fun things were accomplished with it. Parting with it was going to hurt. A LOT. It was foremost on Thalia's thoughts; that and not dying in the process of its removal. Maybe it was shock and maybe it wasn't, but words didn't seem to register consciously with her right then. This wasn't happening and simultaneously obviously was. Damnit, she wasn't going to make it back out of this house, and if she did, she was going to have to ask Thana to open bottles of ketchup for her [i]every god damned time[/i] from this point forward. 

	Thalia didn't necessarily fear death. Not as much as a lot of people did, anyway. She feared not being able to take care of her duties. Disfigurement wasn't a high point, either. Scars were okay, in some cases kind of badassed, though she wasn't sure what she would do without the use of her sword hand. It was coming off. She just had to accept that for the short time that she still had two hands. As much as she feared losing a physical part of herself, Thalia feared losing [i]all[/i] of herself were it to stay attached. Though, what good would she be then? What role could she possibly fill? How could Thalia do anything toward fulfilling her promise to get Thana to Mexico Beach, the meeting point? There were dog tags to collect from someone she assumed was special to the woman. Now she would be a burden to them all. Perhaps it was best that she didn't make it. If she did, perhaps it was best that they leave her behind. She couldn't help very much now. 

	Shaking, she allowed Beatrice and Manny to get her up on the table. This was it. Thalia looked down at the belt and tourniquet on her forearm, numbly aware that circulation was cut off uncomfortably but reacting to it through a haze of almost paralyzing emotion. Maybe if she was lucky, she would pass out when the cutting started. That would be the closest thing to bliss that she could hope for. Absently, and through a voice tinged with disbelief, she reached out to Beatrice, a woman who had become her friend over the past year. One with whom she had shared smiles and tears; one she had come to trust, and more. She barely registered the comment that her friend made, but she nervously smiled nonetheless. It was sarcasm designed to make her feel better anyway. Thalia's fingers began to entwine in Beatrice's shirt as she tried to focus on the words she needed to speak to her. 

	[color=dc143c]"Beatrice? Trice, sweetie..."[/color] she began shakily, pulling her as close as her friend would let her. Sweat sheened across her forehead and she swallowed hard, probably beginning to slip into shock at what was about to occur. [color=dc143c]"Oh, God. Okay."[/color] Thalia took in a deep breath, trying to do as Manny suggested and slow her respiration. [color=dc143c]"Girl, I know you've been watching me."[/color] She gulped, continuing, [color=dc143c]"[i]It's okay[/i]. It's okay, I don't mind, yeah? I think you're cute, too."[/color] She smiled, a tear pooling and falling from each eye. [color=dc143c]"Really."[/color] Her voice now little more than a whisper, [color=dc143c]"Please, a little closer... I wanted you to know that, alright? In case... you know. And, if we find anything in here? If we find any..."[/color] Thalia fought hard to lean her head forward, her ragged breath hot on Beatrice's skin, [color=dc143c]"[b]Dibs. On. The Os.[/b]"[/color] 

	The let her head fall back onto the table with a thunk and began giggling. It was close to hysteria and she was anxious beyond imagining, but at the same time desperately needed this over and done with. She kept one hand, the one that she would still have at the end of the day, on Beatrice. SpaghettiOs or not, this sucked and she needed some support. 



[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://www.screamhorrormag.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/Stan-Against-Evil-e1529577006422-600x240.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=burlywood]Location:[/color][/b] Okefenokee: E14 
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] People Reading [hr][hr][/center]

	Even if the other two didn't know what Wayne was going to do out in the woods, Hank did. It didn't stop him from moving to the back of the truck for his things, but he did acknowledge that he received the message with a pointed, [color=deb887]"Jesus, Wayne! Can you put "[i]The Monster[/i]" away? Got company, remember? Ah..."[/color] A dismissive shake of his head later, Hank pulled a worn backpack from the bed of the dead truck and hoisted a pump action shotgun that looked like it once belonged in a police squad car. He secured the weapon to the side of the pack by its sling and pulled the whole affair over his shoulders. Hank was about 88% sure that these people weren't going to attempt to kill, rob, or violate them in the immediate future, and risked turning his back on them just long enough to grab his belongings. 

	An irritated groan escaped Hank as he heard the report that Wayne had put down one more Asshole while he was having a little personal happy time. He was quite satisfied that he didn't have to see any of it happen, and the moment that he found some alcohol he was going to try to erase that he even heard about it from his brain. [color=deb887]"Fine! That kill counts. Can we go, eh, or is there any other business you have out here in the middle of God's Armpit, Georgia?"[/color] He leaned against the formerly mobile truck and tried to look patient when he was clearly the opposite. 

	A touch of that impatience flared when the Roman fellow made the inquiry about "sticking around here". It was an honest enough question, though if he was being fully serious it begged for sarcastic response. Hank raised his hands to emphasize his phrasing, even as he gathered what words he was going to fling at the oddly garbed man. At the last second, he stopped and shook his head vigorously. [color=deb887]"Nope. Too easy. I have my standards there, Julius. I'll give you this one for free: You see the direction this truck was headed? Yeah. That way. The sooner we find a vehicle I can get running, the happier I'll be. Play your cards right, we'll part ways soon enough."[/color] He looked the man up and down. [color=deb887]"Almost."[/color]  

	Calling to Wayne, [color=deb887]"You all zipped up there, buddy? Burning daylight here. I sure as hell don't want to spend the night out where the most popular sport is mosquito fornication."[/color]