[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/54f902c5-aef8-429b-833d-a643fe7aa7e6.png[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] Headland: E. Main Street, B4, Adjacent House (Exterior) -> Following Tatiana to House
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] Perception, Endurance [/center][hr][hr]

	It was a willingness to be prepared that prompted Ash to carry all that he did, coupled with a concern that other, random individuals might come across what they had rightfully liberated from those who would have done them harm. Or if he was completely honest, it was equal parts liberation and looting. The other guys had stuff, Newnan folk needed stuff, they had Tatiana. That made them "The Bad Guys", which meant they had to go. Ash wished that he didn't have to take a bullet for it, but it was a small price to pay to get Tati back, as well as weapons, ammunition, and supplies for his people. Though as he followed Tatiana back to the house that she and the other women of his group cleared, the fact that he [i]did[/i] take a bullet and that he [i]was[/i] carrying the bulk of their plunder was starting to come into direct conflict with one another. 

	Ash looked to Jack. He seemed in fairly good spirits, and he had damned good reason to be. Ash was genuinely happy for him, too. Even a bit jealous. He was following his own piece of hope, or soon to it. The once and future Captain felt the weight of two sets of dog tags around his neck, swinging back and forth as he ran. It served as a reminder of that hope he clung to, and the obligation that went with it. Leave it to that Navy woman to touch upon his sense of duty. It kept him moving for a solid year so far. As soon as he was physically able to press forward, Ash fully intended to renew a more direct approach to her, no matter what the outcome might be. 

	The problem now was that he was having difficulty moving. It started easily enough with a sense of coldness from his extremities, followed by fatigue. Nothing he couldn't deal with, but coupled with the pain of a foreign piece of metal in his body, it began to rob him of his vitality. The dog tags started to feel heavier, a stone about his neck. And the bags from the car seemed to triple in weight. Ash was tired. He hurt badly, and after this time it finally wore him down in earnest. He began to decline, following along behind Tatiana. His footfalls came slower, and while he was still upright and moving, the loss of blood and rising pain of his injury hinder his progress to the point of distraction. Regardless, he had to continue as he was. Tatiana was armed, alert, and knew the area. Jack had his own hands full with his son and his own gear. Forward, ever forward. Hopefully, if the darkness took him, it would do so indoors and around people in a position to help. Just keep moving. 




[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/45f8049e-1846-4cc8-9eee-8e4039fdcf20.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] Quincy (in house, G6)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] Perception [hr][hr][/center]

	There were occasions back when the world made sense that Thalia was certain that she was the only sane person in a room full of oddballs. Sometimes the opposite was true, but for the most part, it was what it was. This might have been one of those times. of course, she was fairly certain that she knew what she was talking about, but the explanation was falling (mostly) on deaf ears, or to be fair, ears that were not fully processing her intent. Well, no skin off of her ass. The rest of the group can do whatever made them feel safe and secure. The extra heat from the fire would be good for [i]her[/i], at least. Losing half of your blood tended to give one a chill. 

	Thalia pushed herself up and over with her one fully functional arm. The pill was starting to wear off, she could feel it. With it came other, less pleasant sensations. She could hope to fully pass out before everything hit her at once - in her condition it was likely that her body wouldn't let her wake up for a while even if she was on fire - but that meant making an earnest attempt to rest on the immediate. It took some doing, but she managed to get her beach towel back a couple of feet from the fireplace. She pulled the blanket up and around her and started to settle back down on the floor, but then a realization came to her: The One Winged Angel that was Thalia had her pistol still set up for a right handed draw. That just wouldn't do anymore. 

	Her Ruger was a smaller weapon than fit her preferences, as was its holster, but it had the benefit of being quick and uncomplicated. Her hand reached across her torso, detaching the whole setup (weapon and holster both) from her side, flipped it over, and clipped it onto her waistband in the front of her jeans. Clumsily, she removed the firearm and checked to make sure it was ready to bark at her convenience, ensured that the safety was on, and put it away once more. 

	[color=dc143c]"I'll leave it to you forwahd thinking types to handle the plan this evening. I'm owt."[/color] Thalia let her head fall back along with the rest of her body, flumping upon her worn beach towel. Sleepily, she pointed at the lady tending the fire and gave her a quietish, [color=dc143c]"Bien entrada la noche, Bea."[/color] and pulled the blanket up around her. Before the pain set in proper, she really wanted to get what shuteye was available. 

	
[hider=Translations]
1	=	[i](literally)[/i] Into the Night - [i](colloquially)[/i] Nighty-night 
[center][sub][b]informal and familiar way of wishing someone a good night[/b][/sub][/center]
[/hider]


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/e242c7e0-9882-4b3f-8541-f74f280cded1.png[/img][hr][b][color=burlywood]Location:[/color][/b] Building Interior (F5 -> D4)
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Hank had been present to enough of Wayne's interesting arguments with himself not to be rattled from it. He could forgive the others for quite understandably being a little put out by it. Such was the case when Erica began to inquire of the man for an assist with... something or another above her. It didn't make a whole lot of sense to Hank at the moment, but hey, who was he to judge a person for wanting to look above one's self in a survival situation. It took a few seconds and Wayne's insistence that they find something to safely place the torch into to realize that the young lady wanted a boost. 

	A head shake at his own (hopefully temporary) metal sluggishness later, and Hank trudged over to Erica's location. He set his shovel on the ground next to him, took a knee, and laced his fingers together, providing her a more or less steady step with which she might boost herself up a couple of feet higher. As it turned out, there really [i]was[/i] something above them. How quaint. Hank wondered why he hadn't noticed it until someone else did, if only for a moment, before shrugging it off with the philosophy that someone did and nobody got hurt in the meantime. Chalk one up for their side. Upon completion of the epic Human Step Project, Hank recovered his shovel and took a step back, eager to provide some type of garden tool melee support in the off chance that something unsuspected occurred because Erica's prodding into the great unknown of whatever was up there.