Sarge and Judd:
For Mike
Mike:
Mike: ** spoiler omitted **
If, by "stump," you mean "a loose piece of wood":
If, by "stump," you mean "the still-rooted-to-the-ground remains of a tree:
Sure would be nice if we had some GRENADES...
Cord continues to scan the dark recesses of the boat yard.
Mike: ** spoiler omitted **
If, by "stump," you mean "a loose piece of wood":
** spoiler omitted **If, by "stump," you mean "the still-rooted-to-the-ground remains of a tree:** spoiler omitted **
It's a big piece of driftwood, a relic of logging, with a twisting knot of roots on the end, looking all the more like a hand reaching out to grab you.
Mike pantomimes undead reaching out and grabbing then lifts his gun toward an uprooted stump piece of driftwood. Sarge, Judd, it catches your eyes. The wood holds the hull up off the ground. Mike looks like he's going to shoot the wood.
Mike:
The soldiers at the guardpost had grenades. Maybe you can find an over-run guardpost. Silencers would win the day when you're deep in zombie territory, too. Where to get them?
As for the 'stump'. It's not really stick size, it's more of a small log - a big hunk of wood with roots that held up a tree but isn't in the ground anymore because it got washed away by ground erosion which is as close as you're going to get to an indictment to strip logging in BC from the DM.
Shooting it with the P90 is just going to make splinters. And noise. This is perhaps more of a strength roll situation....team effort while a zombie claws at your sneakers.
Judd and Sarge crouch down to see what the f&*% Mike is getting at.
A cannibal, looks like a middle aged mother of 3 from the frumpy clothes and bags under her eyes, is crawling under the hull toward them, drooling all over herself.
The hull is heavy. If someone could just pull that stump out.
As many as several (meaning 3) people could probably tug on that root.
Patrick sees the zombie and grabs the cleaver he found in the appartment they had slept in last night
The overturned boat is about 20 feet long, and the front is resting on a driftwood stump. Underneath there is a middle aged zombie women slavering and crawling toward you, but still under the boat. Mike is making his way toward you with his gun out. He's aiming at the stump.
Judd, hearing Mike's exclaimation, looks about and spies the zombie under the hull. Quickly taking in the situation he says to Pat, "Reckon we can pull that support out before she gets out?"
Patrick grins
"Sure, why not?"
Goes to assist him in trapping Zombelina
Patrick grins
"Sure, why not?"
Goes to assist him in trapping Zombelina
"This is f&!+ing stupid."
Mike assists anyway.
Under the curious gaze of the rooftop snipers and with Anna laughing - you don't really know why - the three of you haul the root-ball boat prop out and the hull drops to the ground.
Zombelina has by then crawled right up to the prow and has her hand on Mike's sneakers... her fingers stop their grasping and clawing as the hull crushes the bones in her forearm.
This sets of a muffled wailing from within.
Not so quiet any more. Better than gunfire one would think.
Patrick's fingers twitch near his rifle
"shut up shut up shut up"
His eyes flit back and forth
Judd stifles a manic laugh.
“Sorry. It’s just kinda funny … anyway, we better get running. Sarge? Time to go.”
Nodding to Mike, he’ll set off for the van at a jog.
Judd stifles a manic laugh.
“Sorry. It’s just kinda funny … anyway, we better get running. Sarge? Time to go.”
Nodding to Mike, he’ll set off for the van at a jog.
Under the curious gaze of the rooftop snipers and with Anna laughing - you don't really know why - the three of you haul the root-ball boat prop out and the hull drops to the ground.
Zombelina has by then crawled right up to the prow and has her hand on Mike's sneakers... her fingers stop their grasping and clawing as the hull crushes the bones in her forearm.
This sets of a muffled wailing from within.
Not so quiet any more. Better than gunfire one would think.
Anna snorts and stifles nervous laughter at the poor housewife who was probably just buried alive. She hops off the boat into the water to pull the prow around with Mike's abandoned rope. A stream of obscenity belies her china doll loveliness.
While Sarge and Judd creep over to the gate Mike gazes around the yard: a barrel of pitch, old paint buckets, a shed full of scrap metal, a stack of driftwood leaning against some weathered lumber, tall grass, motors, old rusted tools and empty barrels, pipes, fuel canisters, tarps, empty dog house, a forklift, a Quonset workshop doors open, an old Chevy pickup truck, to the south the fence is pulled down by yesterday's zombie horde, scraps of bloody clothing on the barbed wire....
Sarge and Judd reach the gate. Charlene is on the other side, 20 yards away, a few new cars nearby but still not parked in. A padlock and chain keep the gate snug.
Across the street and north half a block the plate glass of the boat dealer is shot up, one huge pane has completely collapsed. All the boats are still inside - looks like it didn't go well for someone.
Still not much gunfire in the distance.
Under the curious gaze of the rooftop snipers and with Anna laughing - you don't really know why - the three of you haul the root-ball boat prop out and the hull drops to the ground.
Zombelina has by then crawled right up to the prow and has her hand on Mike's sneakers...
Mike scrapes a fingernail off his combats then continues his survey of the yard. A jack bar, old rims, some steel cable.
How far from us is the section of collapsed fence? Just trying to figure whether its better to climb or go around.
Judd spots two 16 foot 2x12" planks. They look a lot more handy than walking a half a block back toward the clubhouse and stomping over the collapsed fence.
“Pat.”
Judd indicates with a nod the planks, and goes over to grab one end of them (if Pat’ll get the other). He’ll heave one up to rest with one end on top of the fence, then test the spring. If the plank (and the fence) will bear weight, with Sarge’s help he’ll get the other plank up and over on the other side, giving us a steep bridge to haul stuff over.
If, from a survey on top of the fence, it appears all clear , he’ll make his way down and over to the van, gun at the ready.
Judd hustles over the makeshift bridge, taking the bounce with his knees. A cakewalk judging from the way he takes it.
Sarge?
"This is just like that Coheed and Cambria video..."
Sarge and Judd throw some heavy planks onto the fence - Judd mounts it - that chain-link springy sound shakes some running memories loose.
Scope flare: Cord, Sam, and Albert are all laying up on the roof of the clubhouse.
Mike looks back at the Quonset hut: an office inside, desk, old swivel chair, sofa, dingy pillows, pinup girl calendar, workshop office detritus, filing cabinet, toolboxes.
Judd is already planning the most efficient way to the van – over, rather than around cars and other obstacles if needs be.
“I got this Sarge, if you’d rather stay here and cover me. Just chuck me the keys.”
Patrick looks at Dave.
"Well, there's a lot of supplies we need. If Mike can WT us if things get hairy and maybe cover us as best he can I think the both of us can go. I am fairly quick and flexible ..."
Trips WT
"Sam? Cord? Me and Dave are making the endrun on the Salamimobile. Chirp us if you see hostiles approaching our position. Hold fire unless things look totally SNAFUed. We don't want to bring out the lurkers."
Stretches briefly
"Ok bro, let's do this."
Follows Judd
Cord, Sam:
Judd and Sarge keep moving, making a bridge over the fence.
Albert breaks wind. "Beans" he says, "all we got."
I wonder if the other players are going to get nervous seeing this spoiler?
Mike:
Sarge clatters over the chain link fence. It's a little freaky being ten feet above the ground, but nothing like jumping out of a bus onto a lit propane clinder at what... 45-50 kph.
Zombelina is moaning plaintively under the hull. Her fingers wiggle a little bit.
Cord trips his walkie talkie back, "If you have any bolt cutters in the van you could drive it through the gate or fence and over to the boat. A lot safer than hauling all that gear back on foot."
He then returns to scanning the dark recesses for an ambush.
Stomach flush! Sounds bad, uber bad, I hope you a feeling up to kicking our butts some time soon.
Sam groans at Albert's flatulence, happy for the face mask. She goes back to watching Dave, Pat and Mike alternating between the Scope and normally while she lies as concealed as she can on the roof.
After seeing them drop the boat on the Zombie she is wishing she brought more ammo for the Beowulf instead of leaving the bag on the boat. At least she now has a few more clips for the Sig. And of course Cord is now ammoed up with the Sniper Rifle.
"Got the keys mate?" Judd whispers to Pat.
"Right here,"
Opens the Salamimobile
Cord's belly grumbles loudly, this mornings feast sitting uncomfortably after the excitement of the journey over here.
He stands up and has a quick walk round the roof perimeter to ensure nothing is sneaking up on him and Sam on the roof.
She opens up. A jaw clenching door creak cries out.
Tools, weapons, ammo. It's all there.
Turning slightly to watch Cord Sam says,"be careful walking around up there like that. You don't want to be seen. That could be very bad for us."