Episode 1: What just happened?

[Remy]

Perception: d%: [87] = 87 | 53%
JIC: 1d20: [11] = 11 | d%: [44] = 44
Conditions: +1 vs HF, +1 vs psi/insanity

"Hey Dylan," Remy calls down urgently, trying to catch the prepper before he heads back up to their level 9, "Boot stomp zombie Thomas' brain while you're down there, will-ya? Save you a bullet later." Actually, probably more than one bullet if zombie Thomas zombifies more people.

"Also, blood splatter pattern says that hospital gown guy came from lower levels and was chasing Thomas up the stairs. Reckon we can expect zombie density to go up as we head down."

Dylan looks back to the others with urgency in his eyes. "We move NOW. Quietly and swiftly. First to Lynn's vehicle, then mine." He looks to Nanna & Mike. "After we get Lynn to her vehicle, cover her as we make our way to my truck. Mike, join Lynn and whoever joins her in her vehicle." Dylan holds his pistol at a low ready and moves out in a crouch to minimize his silhouette against any light that might be present. He waits for Lynn to show the way, then takes point, relying on her direction if required.

"Righto, let's boogie." she says, guessing more than hearing what Dylan was actually saying. I think I heard what he just said, but I should add this... "We should move quietly and get to Lynn's car first, then yours I reckon. Grab my bike and chuck it in the back of your truck. Mike should ride with Lynn since he's armed. I'll ride with you. Kevin with Lynn and the squishy fella somewhere in the middle where he likes it."

Not wanting to get overly bogged down in conversation, Remy nods and flashes both Dylan and Jo a thumbs up. Then, he leans in toward Lynn, whispering with a smirk, "Age old question... Do you remember where you parked?!"

Remy stays in formation and moves with the group (hopefully uneventfully) toward Lynn's SUV. While moving, he tries to pay attention to their surroundings, trying to gauge (especially the down-ramp) how many cars there are, whether they are moving, and begin to strategize if the stranded vehicles can be maneuvered around, or if they will need to be moved.

((Perception: d%: [42] = 42 | 53%))

Upside will be that zombies can't drive... or at least can't drive well. So keys should be in the ignition if we need to move any of them.

Combat (if necessary):
Initiative: 1d20: [12] = 12
APM: 4
Action 1: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [13]+3 = 16
Action 2: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [12]+3 = 15
Action 3: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [9]+3 = 12
Action 4: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [19]+3 = 22

Parries (if necessary): 1d20+3: [7]+3 = 10 , 1d20+3: [2]+3 = 5 , 1d20+3: [18]+3 = 21 , 1d20+3: [10]+3 = 13

[Dylan Sowell]

(rolls carried over)

"Hey Dylan," Remy calls down urgently, trying to catch the prepper before he heads back up to their level 9, "Boot stomp zombie Thomas' brain while you're down there, will-ya? Save you a bullet later." Actually, probably more than one bullet if zombie Thomas zombifies more people. "Also, blood splatter pattern says that hospital gown guy came from lower levels and was chasing Thomas up the stairs. Reckon we can expect zombie density to go up as we head down."

Dylan just looks at the dude, a bit aghast and taken aback. This is not some fuckin' movie, dude. He sends a glance Nanna Jo's way that's kind of an ambiguous mix of disgust, disbelief, and frustration before hear the part about density and considering that a moment. Might be. We're gonna find out one way or another. He flashes Remy a "stay quiet, stealth is important" gesture with his free hand before returning it to an active shooting posture wrapped around the hand holding the grip of his Glock.

[Nanna Jo]

((Rolls carried))

Dylan just looks at the dude, a bit aghast and taken aback. This is not some fuckin' movie, dude. He sends a glance Nanna Jo's way that's kind of an ambiguous mix of disgust, disbelief, and frustration before hear the part about density and considering that a moment.

Nanna Jo raises an eyebrow during the exchange, but otherwise keeps focused on whatever lies ahead, down the stairwell. Just no point listening to that. She does however hold her walking stick in two hands close to her body, ready for trouble.

When Dylan glances at her, she smirks and wiggles her thumbs on the walking stick as if it were a game controller. Her body blocks the view for all behind her, leaving only Dylan with a clear view of the jest.

If this is a game can we get the gamers up front to show us oldies how it's done?

[Josh Murphy]

Perception: 15% / 1d100: [47] = 47
JIC: 1d20: [10] = 10 1d100: [59] = 59

Initiative: 1d20: [10] = 10
Action 1: Dodge 1d20+1: [10]+1 = 11
Action 2: Strike with bat 1d20+1: [7]+1 = 8 ; Damage 1d8: [4] = 4
Action 3: Strike with bat 1d20+1: [7]+1 = 8 ; Damage 1d8: [1] = 1
Action 4: Strike with bat 1d20+1: [15]+1 = 16 ; Damage 1d8: [5] = 5

Parries: 1d20+1: [2]+1 = 3 , 1d20+1: [20]+1 = 21 , 1d20+1: [16]+1 = 17 , 1d20+1: [5]+1 = 6

A BLAM echos out from the stairwell behind Josh. This gets the attention of the man in the suit, who's head lolls toward the noise. That's when he spots Josh and his mouth opens and begins to emit a moan even louder than the car horn.
WHAT DO YOU DO!

Josh's heart sinks as he observes the gory mess on display in front of him. His head begins to swim and he feels his knees beginning to go weak. The telltale sound of a gunshot rocks him back to reality and he turns his head momentarily from the man in the suit to look towards the sound. When the wounded man lets out his deafening moan, Josh crouches, shutting his eyes at the pain of the piercing sound and instinctively bringing his hands to his ears and nearly dropping his bat in the process.

Josh stands up shakily, only just noticing the man in the suit starting to lurch towards him. Josh starts to walk backwards towards the stairwell, his bat out in front of him.

"L-look, buddy. I don't know what's going on here, but I've had a hell of a FUCKING day so far."

He swings the bat in an arcing motion in front of him.

"So unless you want me to jam this bat up your ass, back. The FUCK. OFF!"

[Lynn Jacobs]

Perception: 1d100: [32] = 32 / 25%
JIC: 1d20: [5] = 5 / 1d100: [10] = 10
Conditions: +1 save vs HF

The Saenger, Garage, 9th Floor

Anticipating what is about to happen, Lynn keeps a firm grip on both Kevin and Tarka. She closes her eyes tightly as if it will help keep her safe.

BLAM

Lynn flinches when Dylan takes his shot. Oh god… she mentally exclaims, her ears ringing. When she opens her eyes again, she looks to Kevin with a sympathetic expression. Tarka barks and pulls at her leash at the commotion. “It’s okay,” Lynn hushes her with soothing whispers, but she knows that she’s asking a lot from her nervous dog.

When Dylan recommends that they move, Lynn nods and follows the others to the garage. She avoids looking at the two corpses. As suggestions are made concerning seating arrangements, Lynn agrees to them, telling Kevin to, “Stay with me, okay?” She looks to Michael. “You too. Where was your car parked again?” When Remy asks if she remembers where she parked, she replies, “Yes, I think so.” She takes a few steps in what she thinks is the right direction and pats her jacket pocket just to make sure her keys are there.

If they are able to make it to her Honda Passport, Lynn will quickly unlock it, throw her things in the back and allow the others to do the same if they wish. She opens one of the back doors and urges Tarka to hop in.

If there is trouble, Lynn will try to get out of the way.
Actions (4):
Initiative: 1d20: [12] = 12
1. Dodge: 1d20: [16] = 16
2. Dodge: 1d20: [11] = 11
3. Dodge: 1d20: [9] = 9
4. Dodge: 1d20: [7] = 7
Parries (if needed): 1d20: [4] = 4 , 1d20: [17] = 17 , 1d20: [16] = 16 , and 1d20: [8] = 8

[Nanna Jo]

((Rolls carried))

OOC Comments

I've been unable to determine whether the noises around Josh (a full 4 floors down the stairs and presumably through a closed door) are heard by the group. They seem rather loud, so it may well carry up the stairwell. Then again maybe not. So posting a compromise that can lead in either direction.

... and his mouth opens and begins to emit a moan even louder than the car horn.

"...... .... .... .. . . ... ....... . FUCK. OFF!"

"Wait," Nanna Jo whispers to Dylan, her head cocked to one side. "Hear something? Or my ears still ringing?"

[The Governor]

Location: New Orleans, Louisiana - The Saenger, Garage, 9th floor Parking Area (Josh, 5th floor Parking Area)
Date: April 1st
Time: 2:10 pm
Weather: partly cloudy, 86º

Garage lvl 9
Lynn's is the green SUV on the left side of the map.

Notes

Dylan's room: 612 Truck parked on Garage level 8
Nanna Jo's room: 1512 Motorcycle parked on Garage level 8
Michael's room: 912 Truck parked on Garage level 9
Lynn's room: 1002 SUV parked on Garage level 9
Josh, car abandoned on the street 2 blocks away, near the corner of Canal & Liberty
Remy's Van parked on street within a block of the hotel.

Those that look at the head of the man with the severed hand, see it's jaw continue to move in a biting motion though it make no noise.

After a few seconds pass, the ringing in everyone's ears subsides. Dylan calls out to the group and Nanna Jo agrees its time to get. Remy offers the suggestion that the bodies should get the movie style old double tap. Just to be sure but Dylan and Nanna Jo refrain from following through.
Lynn calms Tarka down and with no other threats in site, those in the lead turn back to the 9th floor landing.

Dylan and Nanna Jo walk back up the half flight of stairs, from the mangled mess of two dead bodies, to the 9th floor landing. As Dylan edges his way through the small crowd that constitutes the group they've assembled, Kevin turns around to face the door and his brows furrow, "Hey, Where'd Michael go?" With the questions in the air, everyone looks around but there's no sign of him or where he went.

The 9th floor landing is quite full with Dylan and Lynn near the door, so that Lynn can give directions to her car. Remy, Kevin and Nanna Jo fall in just behind them as Dylan starts to slowly pull the door open.

With the door open a crack, Dylan can't see much so he makes his way out into the garage, followed by the rest of the group. The group is gathered just outside the stairwell. About halfway down the the row in front of them is a red convertible. A black sedan is mostly visible behind some pillars on a perpendicular row and a blue truck can bee seen in the shadows to the far right of the group. The UP ramp empties out on level 9 just to the groups left and spirals down and out of sight. The elevator is dead center in the garage, which from Lynn's directions, is blocking the view of her SUV.

All in all, it looks pretty empty, though a constant sound of something is echoing up from a level somewhere below the group.

Meanwhile, four levels down, Josh looks back to see the stairwell door click shut after the sound of what could only be a gun shot rings from it. The moaning man starts to advance, dragging an injured leg as he inches toward Josh. Baseball bat extended toward the moaning man, Josh says a few choice words as he swings the bat back and forth. Josh isn't sure if the man heard him over his moans, regardless he keeps advancing, only moaning a few inches with each step of his damaged leg.

Josh is almost startled when he backs into the door, well ahead of the moaning man. The push bar on the door presses down and Josh finds himself back in the stairwell standing next to his gear bag as the door slowly closes in front of him. The door has about six inches left to close when it suddenly clicks and slams closed, the moan does not stop but is cut to a dull sound behind the door.


WHAT DO YOU DO NOW?

[Dylan Sowell]

Perception: 40% / 1d100: [72] = 72
JIC: 1d20: [3] = 3 / 1d100: [13] = 13
Conditions: +3 v HF, +1 v Toxins;
Prowl: 25% / 1d100: [73] = 73 (doing his best to move quietly in the dark)

Dylan speaks in hushed tones. "Lynn, put your left hand on my right shoulder and lead us to your car. Yes, I'm literally asking for you to point me in the right direction." He looks back at the others.

"We've already lost Michael? Crap. Off-hands on the shoulder of the person in front of you. Let's not lose anyone else. No flashlights unless it gets so dark we can't see anything at all. My dad says 'Prudence is a powerful weapon,' so let's make sure we don't neglect that weapon." Dylan will remain at point and with Lynn guiding him and presumably the rest of those behind them. He keeps his Glock at the ready and his eyes open. With one last quiet utterance he tells folks, "If you see something, say something. We can't afford self-doubt or second guessing ourselves." Holy crap, with the exception of the old lady who looks to have been through some shit in her years, it's like I'm leading a flock of sheep here. Dad would admonish me for risking my own life to help these folks who are 'dead weight.' Mom would be proud though and say I was 'like Jesus leading his apostles' or maybe a 'Bishop leading his congregation.'

Initiative: 1d20: [14] = 14
Action 1: Axe Kick to repel a proximate threat. Strike: 1d20+2: [9]+2 = 11 , Damage: 2d8+5: [5, 7]+5 = 17 or shoot Glock if threat within 60'. Strike: 1d20+1: [18]+1 = 19 , Damage: 4d6+2: [5, 1, 1, 5]+2 = 14
Action 2: Shoot Glock if threat within 60'. Strike: 1d20+1: [2]+1 = 3 , Damage: 4d6+2: [2, 5, 4, 6]+2 = 19
Action 3: Shoot Glock if threat within 60'. Strike: 1d20+1: [10]+1 = 11 , Damage: 4d6+2: [5, 5, 5, 3]+2 = 20
Action 4: Shoot Glock if threat within 60'. Strike: 1d20+1: [7]+1 = 8 , Damage: 4d6+2: [5, 1, 6, 1]+2 = 15
Action 5: Shoot Glock if threat within 60'. Strike: 1d20+1: [5]+1 = 6 , Damage: 4d6+2: [1, 1, 4, 3]+2 = 11
Action 6: Reserved for dodge

Parries (+4 included): 1d20+4: [16]+4 = 20 , 1d20+4: [19]+4 = 23 , 1d20+4: [15]+4 = 19 , 1d20+4: [2]+4 = 6 , 1d20+4: [20]+4 = 24 , 1d20+4: [5]+4 = 9
Dodges (+5 included): 1d20+5: [14]+5 = 19 , 1d20+5: [4]+5 = 9 , 1d20+5: [19]+5 = 24 , 1d20+5: [4]+5 = 9 , 1d20+5: [18]+5 = 23 , 1d20+5: [16]+5 = 21

[Nanna Jo]

Perception: 15% / 1d100: [58] = 58
JIC: 1d20: [7] = 7 / 1d100: [43] = 43
Conditions: +1 v HF, +4 v Toxins;

Dylan and Nanna Jo walk back up the half flight of stairs, from the mangled mess of two dead bodies, to the 9th floor landing. As Dylan edges his way through the small crowd that constitutes the group they've assembled, Kevin turns around to face the door and his brows furrow, "Hey, Where'd Michael go?" With the questions in the air, everyone looks around but there's no sign of him or where he went.

The elderly farmer scowls as she looks left and right, wondering what happened to Michael. "Not the best time to go walkabout. Anyone see where he went? Did he say anything?" I could go and fetch him, unless he doesn't want to be fetched ... the man has a gun. She mutters, "Herding cats wouldn't be this hard."

The group is gathered just outside the stairwell. About halfway down the the row in front of them is a red convertible. A black sedan is mostly visible behind some pillars on a perpendicular row and a blue truck can be seen in the shadows to the far right of the group. The UP ramp empties out on level 9 just to the groups left and spirals down and out of sight. The elevator is dead center in the garage, which from Lynn's directions, is blocking the view of her SUV.

All in all, it looks pretty empty, though a constant sound of something is echoing up from a level somewhere below the group.

"We've already lost Michael? Crap. Off-hands on the shoulder of the person in front of you. Let's not lose anyone else. No flashlights unless it gets so dark we can't see anything at all. My dad says 'Prudence is a powerful weapon,' so let's make sure we don't neglect that weapon." Dylan will remain at point and with Lynn guiding him and presumably the rest of those behind them. He keeps his Glock at the ready and his eyes open.

Nanna Jo looks about and plainly sees the red convertible halfway down the row, and can even make out a blue truck in the shadows to the far right. Has Dylan got his eyes open?

"Michael's truck is on this level. Think blue's his colour?" she says, nodding to the blue truck far off to the right. "I wonder if he got sick of delays and just buggered off there. A bloke on his own moves a lot faster than a group, maybe he just made a call?" She keeps an eye on the truck, with half a mind to check it out. If he's there that truck, or another one somewhere on this level, is gonna start up any second.

Thinking to Michael's recent sudden vanishing act she thinks she thinks she understands Dylan's hand-on-shoulder business. He's herding cats! The hand thing could work. I wonder if Lynn has a few extra dog leashes? That'd work too. Better yet, Tarka could probably keep this mob in a group and round up the strays.

Nanna Jo's quite pleased the level appears empty, but she readies herself for a fight all the same. Let's just get them in the car before anyone else decides to go walkies. She thinks briefly of home, and reckons her dogs would've had this lot out the door and halfway through the city by now.

She remains silent, keeping her thoughts to herself, and has a wild hope of this all ending rather uneventfully.

Initiative: 1d20: [11] = 11
Action 1: Walking stick strike: 1d20+1: [17]+1 = 18 , Damage: 2d4+12: [1, 3]+12 = 16
Action 2: Walking stick strike: 1d20+1: [8]+1 = 9 , Damage: 2d4+12: [4, 2]+12 = 18
Action 3: Walking stick strike: 1d20+1: [6]+1 = 7 , Damage: 2d4+12: [1, 3]+12 = 16
Action 4: Walking stick strike: 1d20+1: [4]+1 = 5 , Damage: 2d4+12: [3, 4]+12 = 19
Action 5: Reserved for Dodge 1d20+3: [1]+3 = 4
Parry rolls: 1d20+4: [20]+4 = 24 , 1d20+4: [20]+4 = 24 , 1d20+4: [6]+4 = 10 , 1d20+4: [1]+4 = 5 , 1d20+4: [2]+4 = 6

[Remy]

Perception: d%: [62] = 62 | 53%
JIC: 1d20: [5] = 5 | d%: [85] = 85
Conditions: +1 vs HF, +1 vs psi/insanity

As suggestions are made concerning seating arrangements, Lynn agrees to them, telling Kevin to, “Stay with me, okay?” She looks to Michael. “You too. Where was your car parked again?” When Remy asks if she remembers where she parked, she replies, “Yes, I think so.” She takes a few steps in what she thinks is the right direction and pats her jacket pocket just to make sure her keys are there.

"Hey, Where'd Michael go?"

Nodding along with Lynn as she suggests that Kevin remain close, Remy then focuses his attention on where Lynn says her vehicle is parked. Squinting hard trying to X-ray vision through the central elevator shaft, he, like the others, doesn't notice Michael's departure until Kevin pipes up. Casting his gaze about, but not having been with the group when Michael shared the information about his ride, Remy can only look for clues.

((Crime Scene Investigation. d%: [37] = 37 | 73% <== deduce/spot clues as to which direction Michael went))

First, he briefly peers back up the stairwell, listening for footfalls, a door closure, or anything he might have inadvertently left behind ((gun?)) but knows that it is unlikely that he headed back the way they came, back deeper into the building. Then he returns his attention to what is immediately ahead.

"We've already lost Michael? Crap. Off-hands on the shoulder of the person in front of you. Let's not lose anyone else. No flashlights unless it gets so dark we can't see anything at all. My dad says 'Prudence is a powerful weapon,' so let's make sure we don't neglect that weapon." Dylan will remain at point and with Lynn guiding him and presumably the rest of those behind them. He keeps his Glock at the ready and his eyes open.

"Michael's truck is on this level. Think blue's his colour?" she says, nodding to the blue truck far off to the right. "I wonder if he got sick of delays and just buggered off there. A bloke on his own moves a lot faster than a group, maybe he just made a call?"

Following Dylan's directions, Remy joins the off-hand conga line before matter-of-factly remarking in agreement with Nanna Jo, "Reckon if he did, we will get an answer soon enough as he speeds off without us. Might not be the end of the world as he could clear our way or at least make noise to indicate obstacles further down. Can't really blame a fella... When in a zombie apocalypse... after all."

As they make their way toward Lynn's vehicle, Remy tries to do a better job of scanning his environment. Of particular attention to him however is the elevator. Good way for a zombie to accidentally get behind us. Finished its meal on the go and find more pickins' on the upper levels of the garage. Better keep an ear out for its characteristic ding.

Then, a though occurs to him and he turns back to whisper-talk to Kevin, "Say, Kevin. What about your ride? You and Thomas get specific reserved parking spots? If so, where at? What floor?" Since I've got his key dongle, if I know the floor, perhaps the alarm button could serve as a distraction or if we need an extra set of wheels... Zombie Thomas shouldn't mind.

As usual, aside from his chattering, Remy tends to his primary role of announcing anything worth note to the group. And should combat ensue, will try not to get in the way as the heavy hitters take care of business.

Combat (if necessary):
Initiative: 1d20: [8] = 8
APM: 4
Action 1: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [16]+3 = 19
Action 2: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [2]+3 = 5
Action 3: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [1]+3 = 4
Action 4: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [7]+3 = 10

Parries (if necessary): 1d20+3: [14]+3 = 17 , 1d20+3: [10]+3 = 13 , 1d20+3: [18]+3 = 21 , 1d20+3: [9]+3 = 12

[Lynn Jacobs]

Perception: 1d100: [93] = 93 / 25%
JIC: 1d20: [14] = 14 / 1d100: [23] = 23
Conditions: +1 save vs HF

The Saenger, Garage, 9th Floor

“He was just here,” Lynn breathes, looking this way and that to locate Michael. I’ve been so distracted! How did I not notice…? When Jo mentions that he might have slipped by them to retrieve his own vehicle, Lynn nods, agreeing that it makes sense. Stay safe, she silently sends towards the wayward Michael.

As instructed, Lynn places her free hand on Dylan’s shoulder to guide him as they enter the garage properly. “My SUV’s on the other side of the elevators. Red Passport,” she adds. As they move forward, Lynn notices Tarka’s ears pick up on the odd sound coming from below. She pulls her dog close to her side and whispers to Dylan, “What is that sound?” Lynn can’t help feeling that there’s something familiar about the sound, but not at the same time. It leaves her feeling a little nervous.

If they are able to make it to her Honda Passport, Lynn will quickly unlock it, throw her things in the back and allow the others to do the same if they wish. She opens one of the back doors and urges Tarka to hop in.

If there is trouble, Lynn will try to get out of the way.
Actions (4):
Initiative: 1d20: [8] = 8
1. Dodge: 1d20: [8] = 8
2. Dodge: 1d20: [1] = 1
3. Dodge: 1d20: [9] = 9
4. Dodge: 1d20: [9] = 9
Parries (if needed): 1d20: [8] = 8 , 1d20: [15] = 15 , 1d20: [2] = 2 , and 1d20: [8] = 8

[Josh Murphy]

Perception: 15% / 1d100: [55] = 55
JIC: 1d20: [17] = 17 1d100: [45] = 45

Josh lets out a shaky sigh of relief as the click of the stairwell door makes him at least feel a bit safer. With the lunatic on the other side of a steel door, Josh grabs his bag and begins the climb to the upper floors.

What the hell was wrong with that guy anyways? This is some fucking bioweapon, 28 Days Later bullshit. God, just let me find someone not totally fucked up around here...

As he marched up the stairs, his thoughts lingered to Jenny. Even if she had unceremoniously dumped his ass, he couldn't help but wonder if she was alright.

[The Governor]

Location: New Orleans, Louisiana - The Saenger, Garage, 9th floor Parking Area (Josh, 8th floor stair landing)
Date: April 1st
Time: 2:15 pm
Weather: partly cloudy, 86º

Garage lvl 9
Lynn's is the green SUV on the left side of the map.

Notes

Dylan's room: 612 Truck parked on Garage level 8
Nanna Jo's room: 1512 Motorcycle parked on Garage level 8
Michael's room: 912 Truck parked on Garage level 9
Lynn's room: 1002 SUV parked on Garage level 9
Josh, car abandoned on the street 2 blocks away, near the corner of Canal & Liberty
Remy's Van parked on street within a block of the hotel.

Dylan gets the group organized as they gather just outside of the stairwell and takes the lead with Lynn guiding him with her hand on his shoulder. Behind her Remy puts his hand on Lynn's shoulder, with Kevin next and bringing up the end is Nana Jo, with her clobbering stick at the ready.

The garage has several pillars blocking a lot of the view, but the outer wall is only about four feet high allowing decent airflow for the hot climate and a good amount of natural light. Those that are looking around for Michael can't find any clue as to where he disappeared too and all the cars on this level remain silent. Kevin shrugs at Nana Jo's questions about Michael and his can.

With Lynn guiding, the group makes its way slowly across the garage. Its an odd candence for most of them, Remy steps on Lynn's heal a few times and Kevin steps on Remy's but by the time they're drawing even with the elevator most of the group has the timing down.

Remy keeps his eyes on the elevator as they pass it. Noticing this, Kevin says, "You guys think we should risk it and press the button? If it comes up empty, we can jam that trash can or ask tray in the door and keep it stuck on this level." he passing along his idea, but doesn't make a move out of line to implement it.

As the group nears Lynn's car, all still looks clear, though there's a long blue scrape down the driver's side of her car. One would have to assume that the person that was parked next to her left their spot hastily. This is pretty much confirmed as the group gathers on the driver's side of Lynn's car and they can all see blue marks on the black sedan with the rear bumper hanging off quite a bit of the passenger's side.

Lynn's keys jingle a bit as she pulls them out and unlocks the vehicle. Popping the tailgate, Lynn tosses her bags in and then moves to get Tarka loaded. You all realize it will be a tight fit for the five of you and the dog. With some seating decisions to make, Remy asks Kevin about the staff parking and Thomas' car. Kevin shakes his head, "Guest parking only up here. If there's space we can park in the public parking on floors one through four. Or the street. Or an adjacent lot. But its a pain and I usually just take the bus. I'm not sure where Thomas parked. Or if he even brought his car. Its a real P.O.S. so he ends up taking the bus about half the time."

Dampened by several floors of the parking garage below them, the mingled noise of a car horn and zombie moan makes it way up the the group, though muted by the distance between them.

------------

Several floors below the group, Josh snatches up his gear and bounds up the stairs as he starts to contemplate just what has gone wrong with the world.

Now behind him and fading fast, Josh can hear the man(?) start to pound on the door, apparently oblivious to the push bar that opens it.

Josh flies up the next few flights unmolested but comes to a screeching halt as he hits the the level eight landing and turns to go up more but spots two bodies laying on the ground. The head of one of the bodies is only attach by a few flaps of skin but its cloudy eyes are still open and its mouth is moving in a biting motion.


WHAT DO YOU DO?

[Nanna Jo]

Perception: 15% / 1d100: [68] = 68
JIC: 1d20: [4] = 4 / 1d100: [49] = 49
Conditions: +1 v HF, +4 v Toxins;

Is it just me? I feel like I've been stuck in this bloody hotel for months not hours. Nanna Jo thinks as she follows at the arse end of the group. She keeps watch for any dramas that might come their way.

Remy keeps his eyes on the elevator as they pass it. Noticing this, Kevin says, "You guys think we should risk it and press the button? If it comes up empty, we can jam that trash can or ask tray in the door and keep it stuck on this level." he passing along his idea, but doesn't make a move out of line to implement it.

The elderly lady shakes her head at Kevin. "Nah I reckon leave it alone, we don't need the dramas."

As the group nears Lynn's car, all still looks clear, though there's a long blue scrape down the driver's side of her car. One would have to assume that the person that was parked next to her left their spot hastily. This is pretty much confirmed as the group gathers on the driver's side of Lynn's car and they can all see blue marks on the black sedan with the rear bumper hanging off quite a bit of the passenger's side.

Lynn's keys jingle a bit as she pulls them out and unlocks the vehicle. Popping the tailgate, Lynn tosses her bags in and then moves to get Tarka loaded. You all realize it will be a tight fit for the five of you and the dog. With some seating decisions to make, Remy asks Kevin about the staff parking and Thomas' car. Kevin shakes his head, "Guest parking only up here. If there's space we can park in the public parking on floors one through four. Or the street. Or an adjacent lot. But its a pain and I usually just take the bus. I'm not sure where Thomas parked. Or if he even brought his car. Its a real P.O.S. so he ends up taking the bus about half the time."

Nanna Jo looks at the crammed car distastefully. "Well this car is chokkas. Look I don't mind walking until I get my bike in Dylan's van, it's just down one level."

She listens intently, and hears the moaning and car horn somewhere deeper down the lot. "Sounds like the moaning is down near the exit, so we should be right to get to Dylan's truck before anyone knows we're leaving." She looks to Dylan and Lynn in turn, her wrinkly face wrinkled even more with thought. "Here's an idea. If you wanna be sneaky, you all sit in there, stick it in neutral and steer with the engine off. Dylan and I can give you a push to the down ramp." The old lady states this matter-of-factly as if it were perfectly normal for a lady her age to push a utility vehicle.

"If this car has power steering it'll be a bugger to turn the wheel with the engine off, so if you're not up to it get someone with good arms. But it'll be real quiet, whaddya reckon?"

[Dylan Sowell]

Perception: 40% / 1d100: [55] = 55
JIC: 1d20: [8] = 8 / 1d100: [3] = 3
Conditions: +3 v HF, +1 v Toxins;
Prowl 25% / 1d100: [43] = 43

"You guys think we should risk it and press the button? If it comes up empty, we can jam that trash can or ask tray in the door and keep it stuck on this level."

Dylan shakes his head, making a rather obvious point not to speak when such was unnecessary. Fucking motor-mouth this Kevin dude. He glares back at Remy in a lightly disapproving look conveying his frustration with all the chatter given that they were trying to quietly get the fuck outta here. His look conveys the classic "Quit encouraging him" look so common between parents of children. Keep Mom safe, pops. I'll get back as quickly as I can. I got shit waiting at Stony Island that'll make weathering whatever the fuck this is a bit easier.

Lynn's keys jingle a bit as she pulls them out and unlocks the vehicle. Popping the tailgate, Lynn tosses her bags in and then moves to get Tarka loaded. You all realize it will be a tight fit for the five of you and the dog.

Dylan eyes the SUV then leans in close to speak in whispers with Lynn. "Look, if you want to stay here and wait for us, you can, or you can take off without the rest of us. It's your call, and I won't fault you for whatever you decide. Whatever you do, I'd suggest you try and stay out of sight however you can. It seems to me that these infected people are visually stimulated like certain predators, so try to keep from being seen and maybe that'll buy you a degree of safety. These people don't seem to be as clever as your average thug after infection, and you seem resourceful, so get creative if you gotta. Just try to stay hidden." Dylan gives her a squeeze on her shoulder, hoping to give her a boost in self-confidence, then turns when he hears Nanna's voice.

Nanna Jo looks at the crammed car distastefully. "Well this car is chokkas. Look I don't mind walking until I get my bike in Dylan's van, it's just down one level."

Dylan nods. "I'm going back to the stairs and taking them down. Pretty sure there's gonna be some stupid shit to deal with down there. You still got your wind, Nanna?"

Dylan then eyes Remy and Lynn and sighs. They're pretty much undefended. Well, this is illegal as shit, but seems warranted. Dylan approaches Remy and leans in close. "Know how to use one of these?" Dylan opens his jacket to reveal the 1911A1 forty-five caliber pistol tucked into his web harness. Assuming Remy knows which end is for dealing death, Dylan slides it free, verifies that there's a round in the chamber, a full magazine loaded, and takes the safety off. "Don't use it unless you gotta. Err on the side of hiding. But if something's bearing down on any of you, pull that fucking trigger. If you're a good shot, aim for the head. If not aim for center mass. We aren't playing in political idiot land here. 'Shooting to disable' is how you get dead." Assuming Remy's not an idiot about any of that, Dylan reluctantly hands over the 1911A1. "When I say I want that back, it's not a request. I hope we're both crystal clear on that." Dylan nods at the man, gives him an encouraging clap on the shoulder, and turns back to Nanna with a nod. Let's go.

Dylan leads the way back to the stairwell with his Glock 17 at a low-ready and staying bent at the knees as he moves to present a low profile. When he reaches the stairwell door, he'll get to one side of the door and motion for Nanna to open it with that big old stick of hers. He'll then make an entry appropriate to the presented threat level.

Initiative: 1d20: [20] = 20
Action 1: Axe Kick to push back any threat. Strike: 1d20+2: [3]+2 = 5 , 2d8+5: [4, 5]+5 = 14 damage.
Action 2: Axe Kick to push back any threat. Strike: 1d20+2: [14]+2 = 16 , 2d8+5: [1, 3]+5 = 9 damage.
Action 3: Axe Kick to push back any threat. Strike: 1d20+2: [17]+2 = 19 , 2d8+5: [8, 8]+5 = 21 damage.
Should it be necessary, pop a cap muzzle to meat. Generally aiming for the head if an infected.
Action 4: Shoot in the face with Glock 17. Strike: 1d20+1: [15]+1 = 16 , 4d6+2: [2, 5, 4, 3]+2 = 16 damage.
Action 5: Shoot in the face with Glock 17. Strike: 1d20+1: [11]+1 = 12 , 4d6+2: [2, 4, 4, 6]+2 = 18 damage.
Action 6: Shoot in the face with Glock 17. Strike: 1d20+1: [15]+1 = 16 , 4d6+2: [2, 1, 5, 4]+2 = 14 damage.

Parries (+4 included): 1d20+4: [15]+4 = 19 , 1d20+4: [16]+4 = 20 , 1d20+4: [6]+4 = 10 , 1d20+4: [19]+4 = 23 , 1d20+4: [4]+4 = 8 , 1d20+4: [5]+4 = 9
Dodges (+5 included): 1d20+5: [12]+5 = 17 , 1d20+5: [12]+5 = 17 , 1d20+5: [17]+5 = 22 , 1d20+5: [7]+5 = 12 , 1d20+5: [12]+5 = 17 , 1d20+5: [10]+5 = 15

[Nanna Jo]

((Rolls carried))

Dylan nods. "I'm going back to the stairs and taking them down. Pretty sure there's gonna be some stupid shit to deal with down there. You still got your wind, Nanna?"

Nanna Jo snorts slightly as she stifles a laugh. "I'm a long way from knackered mate. We're hardly ploughing a field here."

Dylan approaches Remy and leans in close. "Know how to use one of these?" Dylan opens his jacket to reveal the 1911A1 forty-five caliber pistol tucked into his web harness. Assuming Remy knows which end is for dealing death, Dylan slides it free, verifies that there's a round in the chamber, a full magazine loaded, and takes the safety off. "Don't use it unless you gotta. Err on the side of hiding. But if something's bearing down on any of you, pull that fucking trigger. If you're a good shot, aim for the head. If not aim for center mass. We aren't playing in political idiot land here. 'Shooting to disable' is how you get dead." Assuming Remy's not an idiot about any of that, Dylan reluctantly hands over the 1911A1. "When I say I want that back, it's not a request. I hope we're both crystal clear on that." Dylan nods at the man, gives him an encouraging clap on the shoulder, and turns back to Nanna with a nod.

She raises an eyebrow at this but says nothing. How many guns this bloke have in that jacket? As they depart, she turns and winks to Lynn and gives her a thumbs-up gesture.

Dylan leads the way back to the stairwell with his Glock 17 at a low-ready and staying bent at the knees as he moves to present a low profile. When he reaches the stairwell door, he'll get to one side of the door and motion for Nanna to open it with that big old stick of hers. He'll then make an entry appropriate to the presented threat level.

Right, I'm in a parking lot with Clint Eastwood, could this day get any weirder? She opens the door and follows along quietly. Reminds me of sneaking out back to catch foxes trying to break into the chook shed.

Prowl 30%: 1d100: [15] = 15 (SUCCESS)

Nanna stays to Dylan's side a pace behind him, where he can see her in his peripheral view. She hold her death-stick on one hand, and sticks a finger in the ear closest to the Yank's bloody noisy gun. I am not getting my ears blasted by that thing again!

Contingency: Nanna Jo nails any creature of the night that gets past Dylan's gunfire before it can eat his brain.

Initiative: 1d20: [2] = 2
Action 1: Walking stick strike: 1d20+1: [11]+1 = 12 , Damage: 2d4+12: [4, 4]+12 = 20
Action 2: Walking stick strike: 1d20+1: [14]+1 = 15 , Damage: 2d4+12: [2, 1]+12 = 15
Action 3: Walking stick strike: 1d20+1: [14]+1 = 15 , Damage: 2d4+12: [2, 2]+12 = 16
Action 4: Walking stick strike: 1d20+1: [10]+1 = 11 , Damage: 2d4+12: [2, 2]+12 = 16
Action 5: Reserved for Dodge 1d20+3: [10]+3 = 13
Parry rolls: 1d20+4: [15]+4 = 19 , 1d20+4: [10]+4 = 14 , 1d20+4: [18]+4 = 22 , 1d20+4: [5]+4 = 9 , 1d20+4: [7]+4 = 11

[Remy]

Perception: d%: [45] = 45 | 53%
JIC: 1d20: [4] = 4 | d%: [82] = 82
Conditions: +1 vs HF, +1 vs psi/insanity

Kevin says, "You guys think we should risk it and press the button? If it comes up empty, we can jam that trash can or ask tray in the door and keep it stuck on this level." he passing along his idea, but doesn't make a move out of line to implement it.

The elderly lady shakes her head at Kevin. "Nah I reckon leave it alone, we don't need the dramas."

Dylan shakes his head, making a rather obvious point not to speak when such was unnecessary.

In spite of the negativity espoused by his serious companions, Remy nonetheless flashes Kevin a bright-eyed smile. Respecting Dylan's call for quiet, he leans in to the hotel employee and whispers, "I like the creativity and initiative though. Reckon we're gonna need all our wits to get out of this situation in one piece. Keep on communicating. Just maybe a softer decibel."

Lynn's keys jingle a bit as she pulls them out and unlocks the vehicle. Popping the tailgate, Lynn tosses her bags in and then moves to get Tarka loaded. You all realize it will be a tight fit for the five of you and the dog. With some seating decisions to make, Remy asks Kevin about the staff parking and Thomas' car. Kevin shakes his head, "Guest parking only up here. If there's space we can park in the public parking on floors one through four. Or the street. Or an adjacent lot. But its a pain and I usually just take the bus. I'm not sure where Thomas parked. Or if he even brought his car. Its a real P.O.S. so he ends up taking the bus about half the time."

50/50 chance. Alright, not bad. Guess I'll try the fob once we get to those levels. Wasn't planning on driving the car anyway, just use it as either a distraction or maybe a consumable. Sacrificing the vehicle to achieve some goal...

Finishing his internal planning thoughts, Remy then nods at Kevin even as he stows his rolling luggage in the tailgate with the dog. Sorry this'll make your space a bit more cramped, you're a good dog though, aren't you? Yes you are. he thinks to himself as he gives Tarka an apologetic look.

She listens intently, and hears the moaning and car horn somewhere deeper down the lot. "Sounds like the moaning is down near the exit, so we should be right to get to Dylan's truck before anyone knows we're leaving." She looks to Dylan and Lynn in turn, her wrinkly face wrinkled even more with thought. "Here's an idea. If you wanna be sneaky, you all sit in there, stick it in neutral and steer with the engine off. Dylan and I can give you a push to the down ramp." The old lady states this matter-of-factly as if it were perfectly normal for a lady her age to push a utility vehicle.

"If this car has power steering it'll be a bugger to turn the wheel with the engine off, so if you're not up to it get someone with good arms. But it'll be real quiet, whaddya reckon?"

Remy nods in agreement with Nanna Jo, "That's a good idea. If this is a democracy, I vote 'yes'. Fingers crossed that the steering wheel doesn't lock up when the engine is off. But if it does, we'll be exactly where we were before... needing to make some noise with the engine on." The private eye looks toward Lynn, knowing that the final decision is hers to make for how she wants to use her vehicle.

Dylan then eyes Remy and Lynn and sighs. They're pretty much undefended. Well, this is illegal as shit, but seems warranted. Dylan approaches Remy and leans in close. "Know how to use one of these?" Dylan opens his jacket to reveal the 1911A1 forty-five caliber pistol tucked into his web harness. Assuming Remy knows which end is for dealing death, Dylan slides it free, verifies that there's a round in the chamber, a full magazine loaded, and takes the safety off. "Don't use it unless you gotta. Err on the side of hiding. But if something's bearing down on any of you, pull that fucking trigger. If you're a good shot, aim for the head. If not aim for center mass. We aren't playing in political idiot land here. 'Shooting to disable' is how you get dead." Assuming Remy's not an idiot about any of that, Dylan reluctantly hands over the 1911A1. "When I say I want that back, it's not a request. I hope we're both crystal clear on that." Dylan nods at the man, gives him an encouraging clap on the shoulder, and turns back to Nanna with a nod. Let's go.

Remy's eyes go wide at the customized 1911A1. Holy crap that's a nice gun! Laser sights too! Dylan's inquiry of whether Remy knows how to use the weapon is met with a nod. Then a few more nods corresponding with headshots and returning the gun at a later time.

The private eye temporarily sets down his messenger bag to handle the weapon with both hands, then demonstrates proficiency as he proceeds to: unload the magazine, eject the chambered round, catch the flying bullet, reload the round into the magazine, and reload the magazine into the gun. "Safety first!" Remy softly says as he tentatively aims the firearm at the ground nearby to get a sense of the laser sight add-on. He will nod in satisfaction and keep the weapon at the ready. It is clear the pudgy man is keen on not accidentally discharging the weapon into himself or anyone near him.

Should Dylan remark about the proficiency, Remy will provide the excuse, "Spent some time at the range."

Mentally counting three to ride in Lynn's SUV, Remy tries to be pro-active in their seating arrangement. "Hey Kevin, reckon you should sit shotgun and I'll be in the rear. That way, if I have to use this hand-cannon, I can access either side of the vehicle and won't need to shoot past the driver." Remy follows up his remark by mouthing 'Not pleasant' to Lynn.

Once in the vehicle, Remy will ensure that his windows are rolled up and spend his time on alert. Despite Dylan's encouragement to shoot-to-kill, Remy is not eager to discharge the weapon and so won't do so unless he has no other choice.

Combat (if necessary):
Initiative: 1d20: [17] = 17
APM: 4
Action 1: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [17]+3 = 20
Action 2: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [6]+3 = 9
Action 3: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [10]+3 = 13
Action 4: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [7]+3 = 10

Parries (if necessary): 1d20+3: [16]+3 = 19 , 1d20+3: [7]+3 = 10 , 1d20+3: [1]+3 = 4 , 1d20+3: [3]+3 = 6

[Lynn Jacobs]

Perception: 1d100: [100] = 100 / 25%
JIC: 1d20: [5] = 5 / 1d100: [15] = 15
Conditions: +1 save vs HF
Skills:
Drive Automobile: 1d100: [66] = 66 / 67%

The Saenger, Garage, 9th Floor

Lynn stays quiet as the group finds their way to her SUV. She does flash Kevin a sympathetic look when he suggests blocking the elevator. Without speaking, it's all she can do to let him know that ideas are welcome. She can’t help agreeing with Jo though. Let’s not disturb anything we don’t have to, Lynn thinks.

At the SUV, sighs softly at the scrape along the driver’s side of her vehicle. Lynn wastes no time in unlocking the doors and ushering Tarka into the back. “I’m sorry,” she whispers to the dog, resting her forehead upon Tarka’s. “When we’re out of the city and on the way home, you get the front seat again, okay?” As everyone stands around deciding whether or not to get into her SUV, Lynn apologizes to them, “It’s going to be a tight squeeze.”

Dylan eyes the SUV then leans in close to speak in whispers with Lynn. "Look, if you want to stay here and wait for us, you can, or you can take off without the rest of us. It's your call, and I won't fault you for whatever you decide. Whatever you do, I'd suggest you try and stay out of sight however you can. It seems to me that these infected people are visually stimulated like certain predators, so try to keep from being seen and maybe that'll buy you a degree of safety. These people don't seem to be as clever as your average thug after infection, and you seem resourceful, so get creative if you gotta. Just try to stay hidden." Dylan gives her a squeeze on her shoulder, hoping to give her a boost in self-confidence...

Lynn nods, letting Dylan know that she understands. Looking down at her watch, she takes note of the time. “It seems quiet here, for now,” she tells Dylan. “I’ll keep us here for five minutes, then head down a floor to meet up with you and Jo. You said you drive a truck, right? And Jo has a motorcycle…” Sliding into the driver’s seat of her SUV, Lynn offers Dylan a small smile. “If we get separated, I'll wait for you at the spot Remy mentioned. Be careful,” she warns him.

With Dylan and Jo on their way, and Remy and Kevin in the SUV, Lynn straps in, locks the doors and keeps one eye on the time and one open for nearby dangers. Five minutes is going to feel like an eternity!

If there is trouble, Lynn will do everything she can to stay still and calm, praying that the others do the same. If that doesn’t work (or the five minutes passes), Lynn starts her SUV and attempts to make it down a floor to meet up with the others.

[The Governor]

Location: New Orleans, Louisiana - The Saenger, Garage, 9th floor Parking Area (Josh, 8th floor stair landing)
Date: April 1st
Time: 2:17 pm
Weather: partly cloudy, 86º

Garage lvl 9
Lynn's is the green SUV on the left side of the map.

Notes

Dylan's room: 612 Truck parked on Garage level 8
Nanna Jo's room: 1512 Motorcycle parked on Garage level 8
Lynn's room: 1002 SUV parked on Garage level 9
Remy's Van parked on street within a block of the hotel.
Josh, car abandoned on the street 2 blocks away, near the corner of Canal & Liberty

There's a small amount of chit chat around Lynn's SUV as Kevin, Remy, Tarka and Lynn climb in to the crossover vehicle. Dylan explains that he's going to take the stairs down to the 8th level of the parking garage with Nana Jo and Lynn tells him she'll wait here for five minutes and then head down to meet up with them at Dylan's truck.

With their plans made the group splits in two.

Nana Jo and Dylan head back across the garage to the stairs, while the rest hold up in the small SUV.

Lynn has one hand on the key in the ignition and nervously keeps her eyes on her watch, counting down the five minutes before she will start the car.
Remy, 1911A1 Colt in hand, isn't really enjoying having the back seat to himself as he scans the garage for possible threats. He doesn't spot any trouble but he does watch as Dylan and Nana Jo disappear to the other side of the elevator.
Tarka sits quietly in the rear of the small SUV, rather quiet and enjoying the relative familiarity of the vehicle.
Kevin seems to have his head on a swivel as he twist and turns in the passenger seat. The way he's looking around is enough to make his companions nervous, but he does spot any threats to the group waiting in the SUV.

Dylan and Nana Jo easy either way back across the garage toward the stairs. As they pass by the elevator they can hear the click and clank of it being used. As the clicks grow louder, a muffled scream sounds like it passes from the floor to the ceiling. Continuing on to the stairs, Nana Jo shoves the door open with her clobbering stick to reveal an empty landing. Stepping in, everything in the stairwell looks like it did a few minutes ago, halfway down on the switchback landing lays Thomas' body and the almost decapitated body of the one armed man, its silent head still biting at the air. When the the pair make their way down to easy passed the bodies, they turn the corner and come face to face with Josh staring up at the corpses on the landing.

Josh's eyes snap up from the gory mess on the landing to see Dylan and Nana Jo on the landing. All the while, the thump, thump, thump of the man below beating on the door echos up the stairwell.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

[Nanna Jo]

Perception: 15% / 1d100: [85] = 85
JIC: 1d20: [5] = 5 / 1d100: [43] = 43
Conditions: +1 v HF, +4 v Toxins;

Dylan and Nana Jo easy either way back across the garage toward the stairs. As they pass by the elevator they can hear the click and clank of it being used. As the clicks grow louder, a muffled scream sounds like it passes from the floor to the ceiling. Continuing on to the stairs, Nana Jo shoves the door open with her clobbering stick to reveal an empty landing. Stepping in, everything in the stairwell looks like it did a few minutes ago, halfway down on the switchback landing lays Thomas' body and the almost decapitated body of the one armed man, its silent head still biting at the air. When the the pair make their way down to easy passed the bodies, they turn the corner and come face to face with Josh staring up at the corpses on the landing.

Josh's eyes snap up from the gory mess on the landing to see Dylan and Nana Jo on the landing. All the while, the thump, thump, thump of the man below beating on the door echos up the stairwell.

Yeah he's got a stick. But I've got a Dylan. No worries here, may as well be friendly.

Nanna Jo's eyes squint as she looks at the stranger farther down the stairwell. This bloke a lost hotel guest or he seen the drama in the streets for himself? After a moment she realises what he's wielding. Oh he's got a bat! Reminds me of Mal. For a wistful moment she smiles at the memory of her dead husband. Before he went batshit crazy and shot himself in a paddock, a younger Malcolm was a mighty batsman for the local cricket team. She peers closely, almost longingly, and reality starts to take the place of wishful thinking. Damn, it's a baseball bat, not a cricket bat. Well, he is almost perfect.

"G'day mate," she observes with more profound approval than she planned. "That's a nice bat." The elderly lady hefts her heavy walking stick over her shoulder casually and smiles. A little giggle sneaks past her lips in spite of herself. "I'm Nanna Jo, and this is Dylan." Am I blushing? I haven't blushed in forty years!

She listens to the thumping of something below and asks, "Doesn't sound too good down there. Where you headed?"

Charm 35%: 1d100: [100] = 100 EPIC FAIL, MUHAHAHA

[Lynn Jacobs]

Perception: 1d100: [78] = 78 / 25%
JIC: 1d20: [12] = 12 / 1d100: [45] = 45
Conditions: +1 save vs HF
Skills:
Drive Automobile: 1d100: [76] = 76 / 67%

The Saenger, Garage, 9th Floor

Two minutes… Lynn thinks to herself, consulting her watch again. Her eyes flick to the various mirrors, hoping nothing appears in them. She looks out her window, searching for any signs of movement. Her ears strain to pick up on any odd sounds. When her passengers nervously fuss, Lynn whispers a gentle reminder to, “Stay calm,” in the way she would attempt to keep Tarka still.

If there is trouble, Lynn will do everything she can to stay still and calm, praying that the others do the same. If that doesn’t work (or the five minutes pass), Lynn starts her SUV and attempts to make it down a floor to meet up with the others.

[Remy]

Perception: d%: [13] = 13 | 53%
JIC: 1d20: [3] = 3 | d%: [68] = 68
Conditions: +1 vs HF, +1 vs psi/insanity

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to the dog, resting her forehead upon Tarka’s. “When we’re out of the city and on the way home, you get the front seat again, okay?” As everyone stands around deciding whether or not to get into her SUV, Lynn apologizes to them, “It’s going to be a tight squeeze.”

"You know," Remy begins at a low decibel, making small talk to diffuse the tense situation, "Tarka is an incredibly well behaved doggie. You should be proud." Bouncing his gaze from one side of the car to the other continuing his alert vigilance, Remy continues, "Growing up, my parents had this King Charles Cavalier, named Missy. You could not get her to shut-up. My mother would toss her treats to try to quiet her, but that seemed to just teach her that yapping was a sure way for snacks-on-demand. We would be all be zombified for sure if Missy were here instead of Tarka... So, I appreciate Tarka and commend the parenting."

During a moment of quiet, a thought occurs to him and the private eye voices it into reality, "Say, while we are waiting, reckon it'd be a good idea for me to mark Gulf Coast Paintball on a map for you. Should we make it out of this parking structure, I'll most likely be driving my work van and we may not be adrift in an ocean of calm to properly share driving directions. Got yourself a map or atlas?" Getting out of this parking structure... then out of the city metropolitan... both big 'ifs' that are by no means guaranteed in a zombie apocalypse!

Should Lynn answer in the affirmative and temporarily surrender her atlas, Remy will produce a pencil from his messenger bag, flip to the appropriate spot in the atlas and put a "Gulf Coast Paintball" label with an arrow pointing to the dot where Gulf Coast Paintball is located. Then very lightly, he will trace the route he had previously looked up that avoids the major thruways that he had checked with Google Maps street-view as having ample shoulder space that would allow temporarily off-roading to bypass on-street traffic jams.

"There you go. Route and destination marked." Remy says as he returns the atlas to Lynn. He settles back into staying on alert and idly remarks, "I didn't see or hear any other vehicle leave this level... Do you suppose Michael was heading to his truck and will somehow disrupt our well-laid-out plan by peeling out of here all of a sudden? Did he happen to share what he does professionally?"

To some, it might be annoying that Remy fills the silence with the sound of chatter when immerse in a tense life-threatening situation. The private eye has lived experience, however, that such chatter can sometimes yield nuggets of useful information that helps one achieve their goal.

Combat (if necessary):
Initiative: 1d20: [5] = 5
APM: 4
Action 1: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [17]+3 = 20
Action 2: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [3]+3 = 6
Action 3: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [15]+3 = 18
Action 4: Dodge if necessary. 1d20+3: [18]+3 = 21

Parries (if necessary): 1d20+3: [13]+3 = 16 , 1d20+3: [20]+3 = 23 , 1d20+3: [20]+3 = 23 , 1d20+3: [8]+3 = 11

[Josh Murphy]

Perception: 15% / 1d100: [65] = 65
JIC: 1d20: [9] = 9 1d100: [15] = 15

Josh's eyes light up at the sight of Nana Jo and Dylan. He waves his arms back and forth enthusiastically.

"Jesus H. Christ, am I glad to see you, ma'am!" He points his bat at the gory mess on the landing and gulps. "Uh... I, uh, I think there's some kind of bio-weapon or something going on here." He takes off his ballcap and wipes a bit of sweat from his forhead. He looks back up at the pair with a pleading look.

"I'm just looking to get out of here. Maybe find out if my fia-... Well, ex-fiance, is alright." Josh shoulders his bat bag. "You think I could tag along with you folks?"

[Dylan Sowell]

Perception: 40% / 1d100: [83] = 83
JIC: 1d20: [18] = 18 / 1d100: [97] = 97
Conditions: +3 v HF, +1 v Toxins;

Dylan and Nana Jo easy either way back across the garage toward the stairs. As they pass by the elevator they can hear the click and clank of it being used. As the clicks grow louder, a muffled scream sounds like it passes from the floor to the ceiling. Continuing on to the stairs, Nana Jo shoves the door open with her clobbering stick to reveal an empty landing. Stepping in, everything in the stairwell looks like it did a few minutes ago, halfway down on the switchback landing lays Thomas' body and the almost decapitated body of the one armed man, its silent head still biting at the air. When the the pair make their way down to easy passed the bodies, they turn the corner and come face to face with Josh staring up at the corpses on the landing. Josh's eyes snap up from the gory mess on the landing to see Dylan and Nana Jo on the landing. All the while, the thump, thump, thump of the man below beating on the door echos up the stairwell.

Years of training keep Dylan's nerves steady and he doesn't draw on Josh. Still, the pistol is kept at the low ready. One stupid move, mate, and it's your end. Please don't be stupid. Dylan keeps his voice down and asks simply and directly, "Is that an infected person banging on the door behind you?"

Josh's eyes light up at the sight of Nana Jo and Dylan. He waves his arms back and forth enthusiastically. "Jesus H. Christ, am I glad to see you, ma'am!" He points his bat at the gory mess on the landing and gulps. "Uh... I, uh, I think there's some kind of bio-weapon or something going on here." He takes off his ballcap and wipes a bit of sweat from his forhead. He looks back up at the pair with a pleading look. "I'm just looking to get out of here. Maybe find out if my fia-... Well, ex-fiance, is alright." Josh shoulders his bat bag. "You think I could tag along with you folks?"

Dylan nods. "We have friends in the garage on the floor above. Me and Nanna's rides are on the 8th floor garage. The garage behind you. How about you cover Nanna's back? Is the garage lit, or we gonna be in the dark? How many of the infected did you see in there?"

"G'day mate," she observes with more profound approval than she planned. "That's a nice bat." The elderly lady hefts her heavy walking stick over her shoulder casually and smiles. A little giggle sneaks past her lips in spite of herself. "I'm Nanna Jo, and this is Dylan." She listens to the thumping of something below and asks, "Doesn't sound too good down there. Where you headed?"

Dylan simply nods in the affirmative when Nanna provides his name. "What's your name, dude?" Once the introductions are out of the way, Dylan proceeds forward towards the objective: his truck.

Initiative: 1d20: [20] = 20
Action 1: Axe Kick to push back any threat. Strike: 1d20+2: [3]+2 = 5 , 2d8+5: [4, 5]+5 = 14 damage.
Action 2: Axe Kick to push back any threat. Strike: 1d20+2: [14]+2 = 16 , 2d8+5: [1, 3]+5 = 9 damage.
Action 3: Axe Kick to push back any threat. Strike: 1d20+2: [17]+2 = 19 , 2d8+5: [8, 8]+5 = 21 damage.
Should it be necessary, pop a cap muzzle to meat. Generally aiming for the head if an infected.
Action 4: Shoot in the face with Glock 17. Strike: 1d20+1: [15]+1 = 16 , 4d6+2: [2, 5, 4, 3]+2 = 16 damage.
Action 5: Shoot in the face with Glock 17. Strike: 1d20+1: [11]+1 = 12 , 4d6+2: [2, 4, 4, 6]+2 = 18 damage.
Action 6: Shoot in the face with Glock 17. Strike: 1d20+1: [15]+1 = 16 , 4d6+2: [2, 1, 5, 4]+2 = 14 damage.

Parries (+4 included): 1d20+4: [15]+4 = 19 , 1d20+4: [16]+4 = 20 , 1d20+4: [6]+4 = 10 , 1d20+4: [19]+4 = 23 , 1d20+4: [4]+4 = 8 , 1d20+4: [5]+4 = 9
Dodges (+5 included): 1d20+5: [12]+5 = 17 , 1d20+5: [12]+5 = 17 , 1d20+5: [17]+5 = 22 , 1d20+5: [7]+5 = 12 , 1d20+5: [12]+5 = 17 , 1d20+5: [10]+5 = 15

[Nanna Jo]

((Rolls carried))

Josh's eyes light up at the sight of Nana Jo and Dylan. He waves his arms back and forth enthusiastically.

"Jesus H. Christ, am I glad to see you, ma'am!" He points his bat at the gory mess on the landing and gulps. "Uh... I, uh, I think there's some kind of bio-weapon or something going on here." He takes off his ballcap and wipes a bit of sweat from his forhead. He looks back up at the pair with a pleading look.

Her wizened face smiles confidently, trying to reassure the young man. "Yeah mate, it's Halloween gone wrong. Something bad came out of the hospital, not sure what exactly. We can see a street that's clear of traffic, so we're leaving town. Right now."

"I'm just looking to get out of here. Maybe find out if my fia-... Well, ex-fiance, is alright." Josh shoulders his bat bag. "You think I could tag along with you folks?"

She nods, "Stick with us and we'll sort our way out of this mess. We're in a hurry so we'll talk more when driving." She pauses a moment before asking, "Your ex, she's not staying in this hotel is she?" I really hope not, I don't know how I'm getting to another room and back before everyone clears out.


Nanna plays defence while they make their way to Dylan's truck. If her motorbike is closer and along the way, she'll push it quietly to Dylan's truck before picking it up and placing it in the back.

OOC Comments

Max. Lifting Weight: 1080 lbs

Initiative: 1d20: [20] = 20
Action 1: Walking stick strike: 1d20+1: [10]+1 = 11 , Damage: 2d4+12: [1, 3]+12 = 16
Action 2: Walking stick strike: 1d20+1: [10]+1 = 11 , Damage: 2d4+12: [4, 3]+12 = 19
Action 3: Walking stick strike: 1d20+1: [19]+1 = 20 , Damage: 2d4+12: [4, 2]+12 = 18
Action 4: Walking stick strike: 1d20+1: [3]+1 = 4 , Damage: 2d4+12: [1, 1]+12 = 14
Action 5: Reserved for Dodge 1d20+3: [20]+3 = 23

Parry rolls: 1d20+4: [12]+4 = 16 , 1d20+4: [17]+4 = 21 , 1d20+4: [16]+4 = 20 , 1d20+4: [15]+4 = 19 , 1d20+4: [14]+4 = 18

[Josh Murphy]

((Rolls held))

"Hey." Josh gives a half-hearted wave to the two. "I'm Josh. And getting out of here sounds like a damn good idea." Josh makes his way towards his new companions and follows after them. He nods to Dylan. "Yeah. I can watch your backs." In response to Dylan's question he says: "Infected, huh? I guess that sounds about right. I only got a good look at one of them downstairs. He didn't seem too bright, but he did let out some kind of weird moan. I thought I was gonna start bleeding from my ears."

He grips his bat tightly and turns around and walks backwards for a few steps every now and then in order to see if there's anything behind them.

"So, uh, where're you all from?"

[Nanna Jo]

((Rolls carried))

"Hey." Josh gives a half-hearted wave to the two. "I'm Josh. And getting out of here sounds like a damn good idea." Josh makes his way towards his new companions and follows after them. He nods to Dylan. "Yeah. I can watch your backs." In response to Dylan's question he says: "Infected, huh? I guess that sounds about right. I only got a good look at one of them downstairs. He didn't seem too bright, but he did let out some kind of weird moan. I thought I was gonna start bleeding from my ears."

Nanna Jo joins Josh, her own stick held tightly in anticipation of troubles. "We heard the same moaning in the lobby from one of those chuckleheads before we brained it." She thinks back to their first encounter. "It had a screwdriver sticking out of its noggin, and it kept on coming at us. So they're tough bastards, be sure to hit them more than once."

"So, uh, where're you all from?"

"Cattle farm in Cooma. Just came here on business and holidays, and now everything's gone cactus." She speaks quickly and softly, knowing Dylan will be once again be one about the shushes and quiet, but she wants the lad to know they're friendly. Don't want this bloke to do a runner like Michael just did! She doesn't elaborate on where Cooma is exactly, since in her mind everyone ought to know.

[Josh Murphy]

((Rolls held))

Josh smiles in spite of their situation. "Cooma, huh? Can't say I know the place, though I was never much good at geography." He shifts his bat bag from one shoulder to the other and continues walking on. "I'm a farm boy, myself. Grew up in Iowa and now that I think about it, I'm kinda kickin' myself for not staying there."

Josh takes his hat off and wipes a bit of sweat from his brow. These two seem alright. I'm sure as hell better off with them than on my own, that's for damn sure.

[The Governor]

Location: New Orleans, Louisiana - The Saenger, Garage, 8th floor Parking Area
Date: April 1st
Time: 2:22 pm
Weather: partly cloudy, 86º

Garage lvl 8

Notes

Dylan's room: 612 Truck parked on Garage level 8
Nanna Jo's room: 1512 Motorcycle parked on Garage level 8
Lynn's room: 1002 SUV parked on Garage level 9
Remy's Van parked on street within a block of the hotel.
Josh, car abandoned on the street 2 blocks away, near the corner of Canal & Liberty

Remy's chit chat does seem to calm Kevin down and after five minutes, Kevin blurts out, "That's it, time to get moving." He seems to startled himself as he says it and then in a much softer tone says, "Sorry. Just getting a little jumpy just sitting here." He gives the people in the SUV a weak smile.

Starting the SUV, Lynn pulls out of the parking space and slowly makes her way to the 'down' ramp. Barely nosing the SUV onto the 'down' ramp, she, Remy and Kevin quickly see that after only a few car lengths the 'down' ramp is backed up passed level 8. Kevin turns to Lynn and says questioningly, "Try the 'up' ramp?" He gives a little shrug but smiles nervously to the others as Lynn backs up and crosses level 9 of the garage to try the 'up' ramp.

Level 9 is still clear as they cross and start going down on the 'up' ramp. Lynn and Kevin are focused on the road in front of them but Remy can see that the 'up' ramp is clear down to at least level 7, maybe level 6. After that the angle gets too narrow and he can't make out anything but concrete walls.

Turning the SUV onto garage level 8, Lynn stops as they can all see that this level is a mess, with cars are lined up to go out the 'down' ramp. Remy notices that some of the cars are still running and others have been turned off.


Meanwhile, on the stairs, Dylan, Nana Jo and Josh make their introductions. Though Josh fails to answer Dylan's question about the banging noise that's echoing up the stairs, but Dylan can tell that the noise is coming from at least a few levels down. The brief conversation slows them down a bit but after a few minutes they come to a tentative agreement and form up on the stairs, with Dylan taking the lead and Josh in the rear.

Emerging out of the stairs and onto level 8 of the garage, Nana turns to her right and sees her rented motorcycle parked just where she left it. Dylan on the other hand sees that his truck is partially blocked in by a black sedan and a red sports car.

Dylan, Nana Jo and Josh are still standing at the door to the stairs when Lynn's SUV turns onto level 8 from the 'up' ramp and stops as they spot each other. With both groups looking around, no one sees any other people on this level.


WHAT DO YOU DO?

[Dylan Sowell]

Perception: 43% / 1d100: [87] = 87
JIC: 1d20: [20] = 20 / 1d100: [79] = 79
Conditions: +3 v HF, +1 v Toxins;

Dylan sees the snarl of cars and can't control his reaction to the major obstacle. He shouts, "FUCK!" He then winces at his own stupid, knee-jerk reaction. Damnit, that might bring more of 'em down on us. He sees his truck, sees the vehicles "blocking" it and snorts. He looks over his shoulder at Nanna & Joseph. "My truck's old school MoTown steel. I can nudge those cars outta the way easy, but the ones blocking the exit are a sure-fire show-stopper. Let's arm-up at my truck, and then work together as heavy armed valets & get this snarl pulled straight." Making his way across the lot to the West side & to his golden brown Chevy Cheyenne, Dylan glares at the red vehicle that'll be quickly moved. If there's someone in it, he'll point his gun at them and gesture for them to move out of the way. He'll do the same for the black sedan that's also blocking his truck a bit. Once at his truck, he unlocks the heavy duty security lid, and shows those with him the spread in the back. Among all the gear, is a gun rack with a Desert Eagle, a Heckler & Koch G11, a Kalishnikov AK-47, and a M-16A2; a hand cannon and three assault rifles. There's a LOT of other stuff in the bed of the truck, all neatly organized, fastened, and stowed securely so there would be no jostling while driving. He stashes his Glock in his harness, unsnaps the M-16A2 from the gun rack, loads a magazine into it, and looks to the others. "If we gotta move vehicles, be armed while we're doing it." He shoots a glance at Lynn's SUV in the wrong ramp. Shit, that might work. These two vehicles gotta move though.

Initiative: 1d20: [9] = 9
Action 1: Axe Kick to push back any threat. Strike: 1d20+2: [7]+2 = 9 , Damage: 2d8+5: [5, 3]+5 = 13
Action 2: M-16A2 Strike: 1d20: [16] = 16 , Damage: 5d6: [6, 2, 4, 3, 3] = 18
Action 3: M-16A2 Strike: 1d20: [12] = 12 , Damage: 5d6: [6, 3, 6, 6, 5] = 26
Action 4: M-16A2 Strike: 1d20: [18] = 18 , Damage: 5d6: [4, 6, 2, 2, 2] = 16
Action 5: Reserved for dodge
Action 6: Reserved for dodge

Parries (+4 included): 1d20+4: [13]+4 = 17 , 1d20+4: [10]+4 = 14 , 1d20+4: [14]+4 = 18 , 1d20+4: [9]+4 = 13 , 1d20+4: [14]+4 = 18 , 1d20+4: [6]+4 = 10
Dodges (+5 included): 1d20+5: [1]+5 = 6 , 1d20+5: [1]+5 = 6 , 1d20+5: [5]+5 = 10 , 1d20+5: [16]+5 = 21 , 1d20+5: [3]+5 = 8 , 1d20+5: [3]+5 = 8

[Nanna Jo]

Perception: 15% / 1d100: [32] = 32
JIC: 1d20: [4] = 4 / 1d100: [75] = 75
Conditions: +1 v HF, +4 v Toxins;

Dylan sees the snarl of cars and can't control his reaction to the major obstacle. He shouts, "FUCK!" He then winces at his own stupid, knee-jerk reaction.

Nanna Jo silently follows Dylan into the next parking level and winces at Dylan's outburst. "Steady on," she whispers. Shaking her head slightly, she looks about for signs of trouble beyond what they could already see. "My boys warned me about Americans, first sight of trouble two things happen. One, they start swearing like sailors. And two ..."

He sees his truck, sees the vehicles "blocking" it and snorts. He looks over his shoulder at Nanna & Joseph. "My truck's old school MoTown steel. I can nudge those cars outta the way easy, but the ones blocking the exit are a sure-fire show-stopper. Let's arm-up at my truck, and then work together as heavy armed valets & get this snarl pulled straight."

"Well you just answered that one," she quips with a grin. Heavy armed valets? And they tried to tell me all that gun-nut stuff was just sterotypes. "I'll just grab my bike, it's over there" she says quickly as she retrieves it. She won't start the engine, but instead just wheel it over to Dylan's truck.

Once at his truck, he unlocks the heavy duty security lid, and shows those with him the spread in the back. Among all the gear, is a gun rack with a Desert Eagle, a Heckler & Koch G11, a Kalishnikov AK-47, and a M-16A2; a hand cannon and three assault rifles. There's a LOT of other stuff in the bed of the truck, all neatly organized, fastened, and stowed securely so there would be no jostling while driving. He stashes his Glock in his harness, unsnaps the M-16A2 from the gun rack, loads a magazine into it, and looks to the others. "If we gotta move vehicles, be armed while we're doing it." He shoots a glance at Lynn's SUV in the wrong ramp. Shit, that might work. These two vehicles gotta move though.

'Go on Nan!' they said. 'Go to America and see the sights!' they said. 'It's not like Dirty Harry or anything, bet you there won't even be a gun waving Yank!' they said. What a bunch of wallies! Nanna Jo looks at Dylan with one eyebrow slightly raised. "You know what worries me? That every bloke between here are the city limits is unpacking a load of stuff like that." She gestures at the assorted arsenal. "This place will be a warzone before too long."

She glances sideways at the guns as she looks for a good place to grip her bike for a lift, "I know my way around a shotty or rifle. Stuff that's useful for foxes or pigs." She gets a firm grip on the bike without bothering to ask for help. "But, I got too much stuff to do out in the paddocks to" she pauses with a sharp intake of breath and she heaves. The bike is lifted in the air by the elderly grey farmer in the motorcycle leathers "mess around with stuff like that."

Nanna Jo looks at Dylan with an indifferent shrug. The motorcycle held aloft in her surprisingly strong arms. "So you got room for this in the back?"

If anyone asks about the feat of strength Nanna just shrugs again. "A full grown sheep is easy over a hundred kilos, and you got to haul the buggers to shear em all day long. This is heavier, but I only got the one, so all good."

If no shotguns or rifles are forthcoming, Nanna will have a go with whatever if forthcoming.

Looking at Lynn's SUV, she warns the others "Get on the arse of that car quick before anyone else gets the same idea."

[Dylan Sowell]

(rolls held over)

"You know what worries me? That every bloke between here are the city limits is unpacking a load of stuff like that." She gestures at the assorted arsenal. "This place will be a warzone before too long."

Dylan shakes his head. "That's less true than most folks realize. Only a third of Americans own firearms. A third of those only own one, and it's usually a handgun. And of those gun owners, only about forty percent train regularly. If someone's got a rifle, odds are better than even that they know how to use it, but the vast majority of Americans are basically unarmed and unable to defend themselves effectively." Dylan looks Nanna in the eye. "I'm not one of your sheep, Nanna. I'm a wolf. Mess with me and mine..." he hefts the M-16 & racks the charging handle, "and this wolf will bite."

Nanna Jo looks at Dylan with an indifferent shrug. The motorcycle held aloft in her surprisingly strong arms. "So you got room for this in the back?"

Dylan says nothing about the strong old lady's physical display. I seen fat old ladies in church surprise the shit outta everyone "Yeah, just lay it on its side. Grab the AK while you're in there. If a bunch of illiterate goat herders can use it efficiently, you should have a significant leg up."

Looking at Lynn's SUV, she warns the others "Get on the arse of that car quick before anyone else gets the same idea."

Dylan looks around, takes in the scene, and nods. Smart. "Yeah, good call. One of y'all rush over and set the game plan with Lynn. I'll get the truck secured and in place to execute our departure."

[Nanna Jo]

((Rolls carried))

Dylan shakes his head. "That's less true than most folks realize. Only a third of Americans own firearms. A third of those only own one, and it's usually a handgun. And of those gun owners, only about forty percent train regularly. If someone's got a rifle, odds are better than even that they know how to use it, but the vast majority of Americans are basically unarmed and unable to defend themselves effectively." Dylan looks Nanna in the eye. "I'm not one of your sheep, Nanna. I'm a wolf. Mess with me and mine..." he hefts the M-16 & racks the charging handle, "and this wolf will bite." ... "Yeah, just lay it on its side. Grab the AK while you're in there. If a bunch of illiterate goat herders can use it efficiently, you should have a significant leg up."

She gives him a wry little smile, "Oh I can't wait for that little bloke to start parroting out stats like that when the shooting starts." She grabs the AK, "I suppose we'll see what's what later, but that's still a lot of bloody people and it only takes one bullet to kill ya." She pauses a moment in thought, looking left and right, then adds, "Everyone else who does or doesn't will kill to get more of these. It's gonna get messy."

With a thunk Nanna deposits her bike into Dylan's truck where directed.

Dylan looks around, takes in the scene, and nods. Smart. "Yeah, good call. One of y'all rush over and set the game plan with Lynn. I'll get the truck secured and in place to execute our departure."

"I'll go, Lynn and the others haven't met Josh yet. If he rolls up looking like Rambo they'll flip out. Remy's got that gun you gave him." She slings the AK on her back. "Get this thing moving. If Lynn rolls off before I get there I'll wait at the ramp and make sure no wally blocks it. If we can get you up front it'll be better so you can push any stalled cars out of the way."

She runs off towards Lynn's car. If it hasn't already departed down the ramp she'll wave with her walking stick. Good thing the rifle's on my back, imagine if I was waving that about instead?

[Lynn Jacobs]

Perception: 1d100: [54] = 54 / 25%
JIC: 1d20: [20] = 20 / 1d100: [86] = 86
Conditions: +1 save vs HF
Skills:
Drive Automobile: 1d100: [43] = 43 / 67%

The Saenger, Garage, 8th Floor

When Remy compliments Tarka’s good behavior, Lynn smiles like a proud parent. However, her expression changes to one of sympathy when he mentions his childhood dog, Missy. “Dogs can be so clever then there are treats to be had,” she whispers to him. Lynn checks her watch, then her mirrors. Her eyes meet Remy’s again and she thinks, You really believe we’re in some sort of zombie apocalypse, don’t you?

When Remy suggests marking their destination on a map for her, Lynn pulls an atlas from the backseat of her SUV. She carefully watches Remy map out their route in pencil. “Thank you,” she tells him. “That was a good idea.”

When their five minute wait is up, Lynn takes a deep breath and starts her vehicle. She waits for a few seconds and when nothing seems to happen, she starts driving and takes Kevin’s advice to use the up ramp. “I suppose the normal traffic rules don’t apply right now.”

Getting down to the 8th level of the garage, Lynn stops when she sees Nanna Jo heading in their direction. She rolls down the window. “This morning’s chaos has left the parking garage a mess,” she tells Jo.