A lot of terrible things have become normalized these past several weeks.  Worrying about where your next meal is coming from or where you would sleep that night.  Losing homes and loved ones.  And, yes, even needing to decide if you should kill someone in cold blood, as with Craig.  But this... this is still not normal.  This is nightmare fuel, and Alex struggles to take it all in even from a distance.  Instinct tells her to keep as far away from this as she can.

Unfortunately they will have to ignore that very sensible idea.

"If this reminds you of Detroit, I'm glad I never visited there," she says to Ryder, trying in vain to lighten the mood.  Nothing will lighten this, no amount of dark humor will take the sting out.  This is on par with the worst war crimes in history... and they are at war, in a very real way a war with themselves.  For a moment she has to turn away, finding Matt and taking what comfort she can from having him there.  At least they do all have each other, the ship.  Some steadiness in a very strange and unsteady world.

But all too soon she forces herself to look back.  If anyone is going to go any closer to that horror, then they need to have a better idea of what active dangers to expect.  That's something she's good at figuring out, or hopes she is, and if there's anything out there waiting for them, she's determined to spot it.

OOC: 09:47, Today: Alex Martin rolled 36 using 10d6 with rolls of 5,6,6,4,3,1,1,3,5,2.  Scout.  Two successes.

Okay, rolled Scout +2 for the bonuses from Zoe and Ryder, hope that's correct.  Since Max mentioned giving the binoculars to Devon I didn't add in any bonuses for that... and frankly, getting a better view of that scene sounds terrifying anyway.  But let me know if I should include the gear bonus.

In reply to Alex Martin (msg # 10):

Devon looks about, and shakes his head. "No idea what I am looking for." He grumbles, and hands over the binoculars to Alex.

OOC-Alex, you get +2 more dice from the binoculars and +1 from Devon's help. Total +3.

OOC: 11:17, Today: Alex Martin rolled 12 using 3d6 ((5,3,4)). Sorry, no luck there. :(

In reply to Alex Martin (msg # 12):

Alex, using the binoculars and being aided by three different people manages to find two very important things. One warehouse that says 'Fuel Depot' on it, and another which 'electronics storage'.

Both places look like they are in bad shape. The fuel depot seems to have exploded at one point, although still standing the signs of fire and burn marks are all over it.

The Electronics storage seems in better shape-expect for the roof. It looks like a bomb hit there, causing the roof to cave in.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:05, Tue 16 Apr.

"Well, that's not worrisome at all..." Max says very scarcastically after getting the binoculars back and looking at where Alex shows him. "We have no way of knowing what's in there or if its worth it. I don't suppose Juan's little rollerbots have cameras do they?"

Juan shakes his head no.

"I can totally sneak in there," Zoe declares confidently. "I'm small and quick, I can slip in there and check things out without anyone even noticing."

She casts a glance at Rebecca, her expression serious. "I'll be careful, I promise. I’m just gonna see what we're dealing with in there."

"Probably people fighting over escape routes. Could have been the military to prevent the infected spreading to other locations" Rebecca replies when her sister asks what happened here. I wonder if they withdrew to McNary Field, the National Guard have a heliport up there

"Nicely done, Juan" Rebecca says gratefully when he brought up Zoe's modified jacket. "Don't worry about clothes now." She smiles to see Zoe so exuberant, but notes "I certainly hope you don't have to test it. I put work into those braids, I don't want anything to happen to them." She looks her sister up and down. "You look great!"

She gives Ryder the side-eye when he drops the F-bomb in front of Zoe, although she can't really complain since she did it too after the tear gas incident. Other than that time, she tries never to curse in front of her sister. "I'm not worried about the walkers, they're only animals. It's the living who are dangerous" she says. She frowns "All this damage, especially to the fuel storage. I'm not too hopeful about finding anything useful." Her frown turns into a smile as Juan mentions his discoball. "That should drive out the living too; the threat of playing disco is no joke."

"I don't want anyone leaving this ship without a weapon. Ideally two, melee and ranged." She looks over to Captain Max, all business. "Captain, I hate to ask it, but I know that some of the people we lost were police officers. Did they have handcuffs? It would have been useful to have some when we incapacitated Craig. A flare gun could also be useful to signal the ship."

She looks over to Zoe, worried. "We'll have to approach from the dingy, which means no one can make landfall alone" she says, glad to have a semi-plausible excuse for her fear of sending her little sister in alone. She had almost lost Zoe twice at the Walmart and the idea terrified her.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:03, Wed 17 Apr.

Matt watches with interest from the deck of the Nancy Foster. He no longer requires the crutch and is carrying his bow again with a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder, and a crowbar sticking out from his backpack. The industrial area seems safe enough, not too highly populated and they may be able to find at least some of what they need. A few dead roaming around could easily be taken care of from distance.

"What do you think, Alex? Is it safe enough to approach?"

As others look through their binoculars, I focus on preparing the boat for departure by removing and folding the tarp neatly, tucking it aside. My eyes flicker over to the desolate landscape that was once a booming customs station, but now it's a smoking heap of ruin. It's depressing to think I probably know some of those Ghouls roaming about the debris; they were most likely station employees that stopped by the Cafe before heading to their jobs. Now I'll see them again, months later, as a member of the walking dead.

"Ishmael survives to tell the tale," I reply back to Ryder, casting him a long glance. If anyone out of our group would survive, it'd most likely be him. "And that implies I'm the captain obsessed with revenge. I mean, that isn't awful, but I much prefer the Romeo and Juliet analogy."

Snickering to Ryder, I join the others and continue gazing towards the shoreline. Max's comment about jammed radios brings a new level of reality to the situation. "Noted, we don't want to be over there any longer than necessary."

I walk over and wrap my arms around Devon's waist and rest my head on his shoulder, grinning as I speak privately to him. "You had all of that lookout experience on the Hill, remember? You'll do fine looking out for us over there. Everyone here trusts you."

My head lifts and turns to Rebecca. A hand drops to my side as I speak to her. "I have a knife handy," my hand brushes against the sheath attached to my belt. "I don't have any experience with firearms, so I'll stick with this for now."

The people we lost were police officers. Yes, some of them were law enforcement. Gab and Cody. Hearing his name makes my stomach turn and my heart sink. I really wish we had parted on better terms.

Sighing, I look from Matt to Alex, waiting for her response. "Once Alex is ready, let's load up and head over to the shore."

"Yeah, didn't both Romeo and Juliet died at the end..." Ryder grins. "Maybe we'd be safer sticking with Wolverine and Deadpool."

Ryder stands at the winch, ready to drop the dinghy in the water. At least that part is easy, the low aft platform makes getting on and off the ship a breeze. Good if you're launching a dinghy, not so good if you're repelling undead boarders.

He flicks the lever and the launch drops into the bay, bobbing next to the Nancy. By comparison it looks flimsy, vulnerable. He doesn't fancy the swim back if they lose the boat. Can the undead even swim? Float maybe? All that decay must make gas. He imagines the bay full of nasty, chompy balloons. Suddenly, he fancies the swim back even less.

He stares at the ruined buildings, the piled bodies, the swooping gulls. Even he's fighting a sense of spirit sapping futility. The ravaged shore seems to whisper that they will find no fuel there, neither there in that place nor anywhere else. That eventually they will have to abandon the Nancy and try to find Alex's farm by road and the dead will harry them every step of the way, and the living will prey upon them.

He shakes his head and forces himself to remember instead Rebecca's late night cheerleading. That, at least, brings a slow smile to his face. He may die on the coming shore, but he will die a happier man than if he'd missed Jupiter chasing Saturn across a crystal sky, and Rebecca cheering 'Let's go Nancy Foster!' Amazing what you see when you've nothing better to do that star gaze on the roof of a ship at the end of the world.

"We have to check the fuel depot," he says, more to himself than anyone else. "It may look like it's been blitzed, but you never know."

Any optimism about sailing the Nancy up to the customs place and just filling up like a regular gas station has evaporated with the first glimpse of what awaits them. Ryder guesses he isn't alone in wondering what they'll learn over there about the end of the world that they will wish they hadn't. Desperate, frightened people doing desperate, frightening things.

"Yeah, not everybody..." He looks over the assembled crew, especially at Max. Still he hugs Sean. "Just come back and stay behind all the people with guns, ok?"

Jaun chuckled. "You need to give Gloria Gaynor a chance. Very popular in Tijuana-as recent as last year." He clears his throat, and seems to muster his courage. "I was wondering...ah...maybe...if I set up a dance night for the crew...maybe...you...ah...would go with me?" He blushes as looks at his feet. "It's not a big deal or anything. We don't have to play disco..."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:32, Wed 17 Apr.

"Oh, that couple? I am more of a D.C. guy, myself. Batman and Superman? Or go another route and settle for Satler and Waldorf from the Muppets? Everyone loves the Muppet Show, right?" I shake my head at the silliness of our conversation, but it's a welcome distraction from the gruesome scene across the harbor. "And, you're right about the fuel depot. There might be something still operational over there, and we'll need it for the Nancy. Otherwise, we're out of fuel options."



My arms wrap around Devon and pull him in tightly. I look down to him with a smile, leaning in. "Trust me, I want to come back and enjoy more of your amazing cooking. Maybe one of these folks will teach me how to operate firearms. Until then, I'll stay behind those with guns, just as you said. Just keep an eye out for other living folks, alright?"

Ty was supposed to give me a few lessons on firearm safety, but that was cut short due to the highway trap incident. I was just starting to enjoy his company, too.

As Sean and Ryder work together to lower the dinghy into the water, Zoe's impatience gets the best of her.

With a sly grin and a flick of her hair, Zoe can't resist the urge to show off a bit.

"Watch out, boys, here comes trouble," she quips as she hops into the dinghy, her sneakers landing with a thud on the floor.

She steadies herself, flashing a cheeky grin at Sean and Ryder. "Guess I couldn't wait to get this shit started. Let's roll!"

"Oh man, that depressed Kermit, he used to crack me up."

Ryder laughs as Zoe flashes past and into the dinghy. "Hey, there's eager and there's eager. You need to save some of the deaders for the rest of us..."

He puts on his best 'Count' voice, nodding at Zoe: "One, mwahahahaha..."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:52, Wed 17 Apr.

"There aren't any concentrations of Walkers, not as far as I can tell from here," Alex says in reply to Matt's question.  "It's possible that if there are any larger groups there, they've gone into that sort of hibernation state.  Which means that they might not notice us, if we're careful enough and quiet enough.  And we've got to take the chance, right?"  Handing the binoculars back to Devon with a brief smile, she turns back to the others.

Like Sean, she can't help but wince at the mention of their lost friends, her hand going to her neck.  It's a practical question, having a quick way of restraining someone is suddenly very useful for everyone in this brave new world, but even the idea of the Hill is more than she can bear much of the time.  And the list of things that they want to hunt for seems to keep getting longer and longer, and what they're actually finding hardly seems to make a dent.

Absently, she watches the preparations being made to get the launch into the water, her thoughts whirling.  They do have to take the chance, that isn't in doubt.  It comes down to taking risks like this one, or dying quietly of starvation on the ship.  But it also seems as though they've been doing nothing but taking risks, and she worries that it will all be too much for them... if they live long enough.  Perhaps someday not too far away, those of them still alive will all be mad, hiding in some bunker like the scientists at Gaia, pretending nothing's wrong.

Shaking her head, she returns to the present.  First we have to survive, she reminds herself, and manages a smile as she looks at Matt.  "Still doing all right?  You're up for this?" she asks, doing her best to seem confident, or at least prepared.

Rebecca smiles at Matt. "Good to have you with us." She nods respectfully to Sean. "A knife will do nicely." She lets her military demeanor drop for a moment and notes "Superman and Wolverine are both good choices but I think Captain America is the best."

"Yes, we will. Besides, since this area was the site of combat there may be weapons or ammunition to be recovered. And if we can't find fuel here, there still may be other places to find diesel" she responds to Ryder. She would not have been quite as confident and military if she knew he'd seen her routine last night.

Rebecca nods shyly at Juan. "Yes, I'd really like that." He seemed almost as flustered about this as she was, but she was glad he'd led.

"Zoe!" she chides gently as her sister says she can't wait for things to get started. "Remember to be careful".

"We do" she agreed with Alex determinedly.

"Yea, I'm up for it," Matt smiles back. He's not sure how he'd feels about sending Alex out alone with Ryder. Matt isn't the clingy type, but would never forgive himself if something happened to her ... but he quickly tells himself off. Alex is quite capable of looking after herself. Still, three is better than two and those solar panels will be useful.

Rebeccas voice comes as a welcome distraction. This isn't the time for his mind to be wandering, he needs to maintain focus. "Thanks Rebecca!" he replies. "Happy to be back on my feet again."

Ryder's brow furrows, his gaze moving between Alex and Matt. It strikes him that both of them are, as Olivia might have said, faking it until they make it. Alex sounds confident, but it's a brittle, porcelain kind of confidence; he hasn't missed the way her hand sneaks up to her neck whenever she's under stress or fearful.

She's been doing that a fair amount of late.

And, at a guess, he'd say Matt isn't himself sure that he's fit yet. Ryder remembers the empty, haunted look he had at the Walmart, not to mention the large hole in his abdomen. He wonders now how the two of them will cope with whatever is waiting for them on the shore.

At least they're together. God, he can only imagine the distracted, flighty behavior if they had to worry each about the other as well as the undead closing in around them.

He huffs out a breath and drops into the boat next to Zoe, unhitching the rope but wrapping it about his fist to hold the dinghy steady. At least he can try to keep them alive and in one piece. The dinghy is rocking much more than the Nancy, bobbing and bouncing in the larger boat's swell. He jerks the pull cord on the motor and the outboard growls to life, burbling quietly. Say this for NOAA, say they maintained their boats well.

He stands in the stern, watching the shore and waiting for the others to get themselves seated. Along the shore, corpse piles rot in the cold November sun, fire-blackened steel and twisted iron reflect eerie shadows, and the waiting, empty doorways of the ruined buildings seem to suck the light from the world.

The tourist trade must have taken a real nosedive.

"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."

Climbing down into the boat almost felt like I was descending into an angry coffin. My hand rests on Ryder's shoulder as I land on my two feet and take a position along the side, offering a hand to others as they joined us, one by one. The rocking of the smaller boat made me uneasy. I'd been on small boats numerous times while staying at my grandparent's cabin during summer breaks, so I knew it wasn't seasickness. I think it must be my nerves. Leading this group of people isn't something I had ever planned to do, but what choice did I have? None, I suppose. I adjust my beanie to keep my hair from blowing in my face with the stronger winds on the open waters of the harbor.

I step aside once our youngest crew member joins us in the boat. Zoe's enthusiasm for such a mission is somewhat disheartening. Each mission provides an opportunity for fate to come knocking on our door. Perhaps it's a sign of her immaturity and lack of life experience. Even before the world collapsed and my horrific experience at the Hill, I'd seen awful accidents- either purely random, unintentional, or some self-inflected- in the emergency rooms and each time, it took a toll. Even with my own struggles with addiction and dangerous behaviors, such experiences painted life in a different way for me.

"Let's remained focused and alert. It's important that we stay together and not wandering off from one another once we reach the shore." I look between Rebecca and Zoe, then over to the shoreline. "There's a lot of debris and we need to remain away of our surroundings at all times."

Andy and Devon approach the side of the ship and lean over to hand me a radio.

"Ah, thank you. I'll hold the radio for the fuel team." I take the hand radio and clip it to my belt- opposite side of the sheathed knife- with an audible click. The frequency and channel were preset by Andy. My eyes shift over to Max then Devon, "We will keep our radios on. If you see anything that looks like trouble, radio us and we'll get out of there right away."

With my free hand, I reach up and touch theirs and give them both a smile. "I'll see you soon."

Once the last person steps on the dinghy, I motion to Ryder to take us to shore. With a quick wave to the Nancy's remaining crew, I sit down and look forward to the approaching ruined landscape. The usage of Shakespeare provides some comfort, however. A small grin curls along the corners of my mouth. I look over to Zoe again and say softly, "She be but little, she is fierce."

Juan's eyes light up, he grins widley and he seems about to say something else. However, Bill cuts him off-almost appearing from no where.

"Eh, I need you down in engineering. You don't have the time to go off chasing down stuff! That's her job!" The older man points out-gesturing to Rebecca.

Juan sighs. "I fear Senor Bill is right. My list of projects goes ever bigger. I know you will be safe, and I know Zoe will be kept safe." He reaches for her hand, pausing for second, and then takes it. He gives a gentle squeeze. "That being said, I expect to see you for dance night, yes?"

In reply to Sean Anderton (msg # 29):

Max nodded to Sean in response. "The second radio seemed jammed by an outside source, and we can tell thanks to the coms gear, pull out of there. That means those asshole are about to show up."

In reply to Sean Anderton (msg # 29):

Devon squeezes Sean's hand in return. "Stay behind the gun people. Don't be a hero...or really fucking stupid, understand?" Devon says, looking worried.

In reply to Sean Anderton (msg # 29):

Andy gives Sean a thumbs up. He stands near Devon, just to support the other man. "Don't worry, I will be monitoring you communications as carefully as possible."

Sure enough, the two boats disembark from the Nancy Foster. As both sets of crew heads for shore, the smell of burnt buildings and charred flesh grows almost overwhelming. Those of a more military bent recognize the smell of high explosives and modern bombs. Even as they get out of the boat and get to land, the blackened earth is just a sample of the destruction inflicted on the harbor. The worst part is the eerie silence that seems more in place in a graveyard, which is what this place is now.