[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, Engineering, Mechanic [/center][hr][hr]

	Thankfully, the team began to pile back into the Hordebuster without further incident or casualty. While not fully to the plan, he had to admit that they hadn't lost anything, no one died, and the new person didn't seem immediately hostile. This was as close to a good sign as they could expect, this day and age. Along the slightly more annoying events of the past couple of minutes, Ash had taken note of the sidearm pulled by Riley while they were recovering the errant Nun. While the details of the incident were fuzzy due to the pouring rain, at least she had not fired it off. It was a discussion for later on, and privately. No sense in making an issue in front of everyone. 

	The Nun spoke her piece about the vehicle being impressive and introducing herself, moving on to God watching out for them. It was about this time that Ash started to tune out everything else that was going on inside of the Hordebuster. Something was very wrong with his truck. Very wrong. He didn't like the sudden movement in the dials and dash indicators telling him about a massive spike in engine heat, nor was he particularly a fan of the red light that came on, and suddenly went back off at exactly the same time the engine ground to a halt with a heartbreaking, anticlimactic whine. Through the wheel, Ash could feel the vibrations from a physical shifting somewhere in the engine. The audible sound of ceramic popping was one hell of a letdown, as well. 

	Ash knew what this was immediately. Another close friend had just perished.

	The Hordebuster had been with his family since long before the Outbreak. It was the thing which indirectly kept the (legitimate) family business afloat until it had a chance to be successful. It had been there when he returned home to Virginia after the Outbreak, still lovingly kept running. It was there for his people when they needed it, a labor of love and necessity to make the alterations that transformed it from a dump truck refitted for ware transport to a road beast capable of smashing through barricades, clearing a road of stationary vehicles, and cutting through a horde of the Dead like it was taking a Sunday drive through the country. It served as his home on the open road, and most importantly, it [i]saved lives[/i]. His and many others. 

	Five years after the world turned sideways, and it finally gave out. Manufactured in 1989 in Canada, released to the United States in 1990, gone through multiple updates and modifications in its life, and it was a close to a living, breathing thing with family and personality as any machine had a right to be. The Hordebuster finally lay silent, a huge, metal Hero that lay down for its eternal rest. Ash felt like he had just lost a part of himself. The great military Engineer and his most notable contribution - his most successful feat of practical engineering - was lost to him. He knew it. He didn't even have to open the hood. That sound, that shift of parts, the sudden flare of engine heat? It was a thing that could not be repaired short of getting it into a full working facility. 

	[color=4682b4]"She's gone."[/color] stated Ash with defeated finality, to himself and to his people in the truck's cab. His words could barely be heard over the sound of driving rain pelting the truck, but they carried the weight of a man experiencing loss and covering it with discipline. [color=4682b4]"She's gone. We need to salvage anything we can from her. Tools, cordage, tarps. As much water in as many containers as we can carry. Alcohol from the aux barrels. Anything we can move quickly with. We no longer have the luxury of guaranteed safety from the Dead while we sleep."[/color]  

	Turning to the newcomer, [color=4682b4]"Ma'am, I'm going to be straight with you. This just turned into a very bad day for us. Here it is: If you attempt any harm to myself or my people, it won't end well for you. I won't hesitate because you're in a habit. I [i]will[/i] kill you. Now, if you have someplace to be, none of us are going to keep you from it. Hang out until the rain dies down and go your merry way. If you're with us, you're following my lead. Period. We're traveling south. My name is Ash Holloway, formerly Captain, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. That should about wrap it up unless you have something specific on your mind. Questions?"[/color]  





[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]

	This was it. Everybody was using sarcasm to make her feel better, so time was getting close, one way or another. Even Alexander's halfhearted attempt was endearing in its own way, bringing her back to the first day they met; the day she found out about her family. The day she lost Lola. Also the day they raided a cult stronghold and did some truly frightening work. Tio Caesar would have been proud. 

        Manny, on the other hand, was already talking about a pirate hook. He probably meant well, but it solidified him as the reigning master of "too soon" in Thalia's mind, seeing as the cut hadn't even been made yet. She shrugged it off and vowed to smack him with the first piece of functional prosthesis she could find/make/commission her favorite Redneck Engineer to assemble. 

        But speaking of redneck engineering, Thalia was surprised at the physicality of the woman digging her elbows into her shoulders and pinning her torso to the table.  Thana's words stuck with her. It made things more real, even more so when she landed a peck on her nose. Affection wasn't their thing. Or at least it hadn't been. And being truthful, Thalia had seen Thana fight. She had always been curious which one of them would win in a bareknuckle scrap, if they were both at their best. Sadly, Thalia realized that she would never know now. She used to be vorpal hell in a boxing ring, and something worse in a back alley. That was about to change. Still, it beat dying. 

	But what probably gave her the most surprise was Beatrice, getting damned physical and saying all sorts of wonderfully... [i]suggestive[/i] ...things to her. It made Thalia consider the position that the three of them were in; concerned, tangled, and forceful, and just for a single, hot second, she felt a blush rise in her cheeks despite the looming, mortal thing which was about to happen. "O's" indeed.

	[color=dc143c]"De acuerdo, y eso está [i]muy[/i] caliente. Después de que mi muñón cicatrice, debemos intentarlo de nuevo. [i]Sin la sierra[/i]."[/color][sub]1[/sub] She smiled nervously. Tears were in her eyes still as she switched to slightly Boston accented English, yelling for the old man with the rigged power saw, [color=dc143c]"If we're going to do this, then [i]fucking do it[/i]! I don't got all day!"[/color] She was almost looking forward to screaming her way into shock and passing out from the intense, mind-blowing pain. 


[hider=Translations]
Okay, and that is [i]very[/i] hot. After my stump heals, we need to try this again. [i]Without the saw[/i].
[/hider]



[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 -> E13
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] People Reading [hr][hr][/center]

	The sudden bit of choice indignation at Hank's choice of words, specifically the noms de guerre he had been so free in dispensing toward the Roman fellow during their thusfar short span of acquaintanceship, gave him a half-second of pause. Giving it a think, he seemed to remember the man being called Robert by his companion. And Robert seemed particularly annoyed at Hank's little habit. But not so much, seemingly, as to refrain from taking part himself. [i]Hadrian[/i], he called him. Referring to a wall built in Britannia by the Romans. Sitting on his ass after work with a beer and control of the remote actually did expand his education somewhat, though he was more of a WWII Documentary buff if given his options. [color=deb887]"That's a good one there, Bobbo. 'Hadrian'. I'd go for more of a recognizable emperor or movie character, but I gotta admit, for the connoisseur (of sorts) that's not bad. History Channel much, did ya Sport?"[/color] It was one of his favorite channels, too. 

	Of course, the joke was on him when it was revealed in conversation that he actually went by Hadrian. Har har har. [color=deb887]"But, on to late breaking news about the truck: Uh, it's dead where it sits. My learned..."[/color] he gestured in the direction of Wayne, sauntering up the road to a tune that apparently only [i]he[/i] could hear. Hank shook his head, waving away the last word he spoke as if by force of mental white-out, and continued [color=deb887]"...yeah, nuh-uh. My [i]colleague[/i] has been pretty forthcoming as to the WHY of it all, but if you feel like giving that rusted shitbox a gander under her skirt, have at it. Don't think she'll complain."[/color] His plastered smile that had recently cropped up had all of the earmarks of sarcasm, [color=deb887]"Oh, but my face is going to be [i]so red[/i] when you come a'pulling up behind us. Betcha."[/color] 

	Hank hefted his shovel and started up the road. Roman Guy seemed to have some interest in Wayne's safety, not to mention establishing some sort of common ground. [color=deb887]"Yeah, whatever. I'm Hank. Now, far be it for me to argue with a man wearing a metal shirt, but, I'm giving him some space until the pills wear down some. You want to go say hi, I'm not stopping you. Let me know how it works out for everybody involved."[/color] He nodded vigorously, giving a mock expression of encouragement as he walked along. The good news was that if anybody died, Hank did have a shovel.