[RHat]

"We've landed out near the lava flows and farms - you able to get a fix on my position here?"

[Crossbow]

<I can't actually, There is not a great deal of signal traffic in that area>  After a moment Fionn finally notices that what Creidhne is talking about, he has gotten so used to sparse traffic and operating in real dead zones, that the extremely low traffic here that would have bothered him last week is almost common for him now.

<I can tell you are in the Puyallup District in an area formerly known as Spanaway, I should be able to get a better fix on you and be able to provide the services you requested if you move west approximately one kilometer.>

Creidhe paints a compass ARO for a moment across your perception

As the dust and debris begins to settle, there is a strange sense of deja vu that overcomes you all, you are scattered around a clearing again, on the ground or close to it, and Torley is laying in Clementine's arms again.

The large oval that some of you noted before is coming into view again with some strange structures on the long sides.  To the north and south of there position, Fionn notes.

[HydroRaven]

"Think you can get up by yourself, big boy?" asks Clementine. She then rolls Torley off of her and gets up, looking around. "Where to now?" she asks, not addressing anyone in particular.

[RHat]

"Remember that friend I mentioned who can provide us with overwatch and such?  Can't get a very precise fix on us, but if we just head a click west," He pointed in the direction of the compass ARO, "then we should be in a better covered spot so he can do more to help us out - and I'll have better signal to work with.  If it's at all familiar to any of you, this part of Puyallup apparently used to be known as Spanaway."  He started walking, the promise of getting out of the static a little too alluring for him to just stand there discussing things.

[HydroRaven]

"Some powerful being" thought Clementine while starting to follow Fionn.

[farothel]

"I have no clue," Sammy said as she strained with the spell she was sustaining.  How quickly one became used to having a focus to do that kind of work for you.  Also with the fumes that were bothering her.  While walking, she tore a piece of her shirt and bound it in front of her mouth and nose.  Hopefully that would at least keep the worst of the dust out.

[Necrogigas]

O'Connor headed in the indicated direction, *Is this Red's end game? This '"friend" of his, he the one Red's been spying on us for?*

[Crossbow]

As you are getting your heads together and moving out, you come to realize you are in the middle of a racetrack of some kind, though one abandoned probably around the time Rainier blew up.  The structures are partially collapsed grandstands.

As you start to leave the area, the clouds shift to reveal about a dozen figures coming across the track in front of you.  Following them is a banger that several of the more streetwise of you immediately recognize as a Troll-Killer.

“See, this is what I was telling you yokels about, tuskers and faeries mixing with race traitors like they are normal and drek.  Initiation time boys, bring me a pointy ear and you get colors.”

The drug crazed eyes of the uninitiated make it clear negotiation is not going to happen.

(OOC: Anyone who hasn’t already done so, roll initiative.  Everyone else keep the number you had, we will try and do IC posts in initiative order.)

EDIT: Ooops everyone did, I have the order as : Clem (16), Johnny (14), O'Connor (12), Fionn and Sammy (10), Torley ( 8 ) and Heron (5)  Is this correct?

[HydroRaven]

Clem gets the Warhawk out and quickly tells Johnny "JC, go left" as she fires into the crowd.

[spoiler]Firearms 4 + Agility 7 - Fumes 1 (10d6.hits(5)=4)[/spoiler]

[Crossbow]

Johnny is not there, at all, you don' t see him.

[Necrogigas]

Initiative Score 12, Initiative Pass 1 of 4

A manic grin spread across O'Connor's face, "Finally, someone to kill!" He dropped down to one knee and took aim at the ganger calling the shots. He paused for a brief moment, lining up his shot, *Gotta make each round count.* He then pulled the trigger.

[spoiler=Longarms]
Longarms 4 + Agility 5 + Take Aim 1 - CM 2 - Fumes 1 = Pool 7
7d6.hits(5) → [2,3,6,2,6,2,4] = (2)

Using Edge to reroll misses.
5d6.hits(5) → [1,5,3,1,4] = (1)

Total of 3 hits
[/spoiler]

[farothel]

"Calling me a tusker, heh," she muttered as she concentrated on her magic.  This was going to hurt so much, but it will hurt them more.  A bit later a fireball exploded in the middle of the enemy group.  But she felt it herself, as a headache was coming up and she felt her nose starting to bleed.  She also started to couch again.

[spoiler]
force 9  fireball (with edge on the roll).  I place the middle point so that I have the maximum number of them in it (all if possible) and none of our group.  Should be possible, I hope. 
magic 5 + spellcasting 6 -2 fumes -2 sustaining +2 edge =9 (9d6.hitsopen(5,6)=4)

They can roll reaction against it to try to avoid it.  Those who don't, 9P + net hits.

drain: 9P (like I said, I will hurt  )
willpower 4 + logic 4 =8 (8d6.hits(5)=4)
5P damage from drain (it's better then I had expected  )
[/spoiler]

[irisheathen]

-This is possibly the stupidest thing you've done in a while. But Confront the difficult while it is still easy.- Johnny cleared his thoughts and started sprinting through the darkness just as the gunfire started, trying to stay as quite as possible. He was grinning.

[Thvor]

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap was all Sam could think as he dove for the nearest cover.
[spoiler]If there is no cover nearby, Sam will settle for just diving for the dirt.[/spoiler]

[Crossbow]

The fireball goes off in the middle of the attacking line, immolating the poor slot at it's epicenter and removing almost half of the attackers from the conflict.  The stink of burning flesh and melting asphalt doing nothing to improve the air quality.

As the noncombatants among the runners drop to the ground, the more aggressive metas of their number found themselves targets of multiple remaining attackers.

The Troll Killer had barely avoided the fireball, and seemed unconcerned to the smoldering ruins of his leathers as he took aim and fired his weapon on the spell's source. "DIE WIZ BITCH!" 10d6.hits(5)=4 Flechettes tear at her, seeking blood.

Matty moves to protect Sammy from crazed hand to hand fighters, his inexpert skill providing little defense, but his jacket and orc toughness allowing his to take a hell of a beating and remain standing.

The remaining three attack Clem, including the one who caught a slug from her Warhawk,Clem's attackers (7d6.hits(5)=2, 8d6.hits(5)=2, 8d6.hits(5) =4) as Heron prepares himself for the fight.