Mission #12 - How The Eighth Was Won

[lucetimods]

Who: Peggy Carter and Amelia McFly (experts); Jane Maxwell, Adell, Richard Sharpe, Phil Coulson, Lupin III, Ororo Munroe, Clove, Remy LeBeau, Bucky Barnes, Ivan Vorpatril, Rudy Roughknight, Clint Barton, Sokka, Michael Blanc, Nathan Spencer, and Astrid (combatants); Mia and Trafalgar Law (healers); Pinky Pie, Aang, Panda, and Fenimore (quartermasters)
What: Mission #12: How the Eighth Was Won
When: November 18th - 20th
Where: Depot 8 and surrounding environs.
Summary: Luceti volunteers are defending Depot 8 from an FTSA-led attack. Or possibly participating in the attack themselves.
Rating: W for Wild Wild West (except gun-violence and strong language)


For the past few months, an FTSA militant known as Hoi Hidekan has been causing scenes around Depot 8 and the small town that shares its name. Although he began by merely handing out pamphlets and sermonizing outside the saloon, things soon escalated into outright threats against the depot, its personnel, and the town as a whole. The local administrator for the area, Sheriff Lyca Williams, contacted the Malnosso Organization in search of reinforcements. Fearing a full-scale attack against the depot which is integral in keeping two whole enclosures -- O’Connell and Pagoda -- supplied, she insisted that they send someone to support the town’s already committed inhabitants. With the MSF already stretched thin due to increasing FTSA action in all regions, the Organization looked to Luceti to balance out the numbers.

November 18th: Volunteers will arrive in the small town in the early evening and will be advised to set up a temporary camp on its western limits. Ideally, the remainder of the day should be spent by settling in and arming up. Sheriff Williams will open up the town’s outdated but not necessarily meagre armoury to the volunteers, at which point she will also be available for conversation and questions. Additionally, Foreman Hidekan will be visiting the Lucetian camp in the late evening to try and recruit for his cause. Curious volunteers may want to take this opportunity to have a strictly verbal interaction with the FTSA representative. Both NPCs will have threads at the top of the mission log.

November 19th: This is the day to use in preparation for the battle. Depending on which side your character chooses to support, they will divide up and spent the day in the company of the Depot 8 personnel or the FTSA activists. Once a side is chosen, it’s inadvisable (but certainly not impossible) that characters should run back and forth between the FTSA encampment and the town. Learn your way around your gun, do some target practice, or else search your soul in the desert heat to decide which side will earn your confidence. This will also be an excellent time for volunteers to talk among themselves and debate over which side has the most merit. However, once everyone is settled, it’s up to you folks plotting below to how either side will approach the oncoming battle. Will you set up traps? Will you assign positions?

November 20th: On the twentieth, at high noon with the sun beating down on them, tumbleweeds rolling in the distance, the battle begins. Foreman Hidekan and his posse of FTSA activists ride into the town to begin the battle. Their goal will be to plant dynamite at the heart of Depot 8’s power generator, which will cause a chain reaction that will take down the entire facility. The job of the Sheriff and her crew iis to defend the town at any cost or to die trying. Gunshots will fire and a shootout will begin. FTSA gunners will take cover and try to take the town by force. The battle itself may seem brief, likely taking place over the course of thirty minutes, but it will be a fierce battle.

NOTES:

This mission is being POSTED EARLY, although it still does not ICly begin until the 18th, in order to allow characters ample time to thread with the mission NPCs as well as amongst themselves on the first and second days. This should help them make their choice between Depot 8 and the FTSA.

HOWEVER, the thread for the third day (the 20th) will not go up until after at least one mod has set up shop in the aim chat (lucetiplot) to roll a die in order to determine the battle’s outcome based on how many volunteers are on each side. This chat will take place at midnight (EST) on the 19th. Once the outcome has been determined, mods will put up a thread for the third day that will essentially set the stage for this outcome.

For more information, please refer to the original plotting post and don’t forget to sign your characters up for a side!

Comments

[ NPC INTERACTION ]

[lucetimods]

Sheriff Lyca Williams; Day One

[malnosso]

The armoury was an ill-lit room, but its contents weren’t hard to discern. And its keeper stood proudly by, well-armed herself. Sheriff Lyca Williams counted out the pieces as they left her store-cupboard, like a schoolmarm counting out pairs of scissors or kickballs. She gave a firm word to each -- advice on a revolver or inquiries about expertise. In the end, she was all business. Pleasantries had no place in Williams’s version of her town. Hard work was key.

After the weapons were dispensed with, she lingered with her remaining children -- fine stocked pistols chased in silver. The odd rifle. If someone approached, she nodded curtly. Her silence was invitation enough for them to speak.

Sheriff Lyca Williams; Day One

[deathsdoctor]

Ma'am.

[All business this one was as well. A tall man with tattoos, a nodachi strapped to his back, a tanto on his many pouched belt, and a knife holster strapped onto his thigh.

Funny hat though. Furry and spotted. But if he was feeling the heat, he wasn't showing it.]

What do you personally think we can expect from our opponents?

[Sure he's gotten the briefing documents. But she's seen them and been dealing with them for a while. Her first hand experience would be just as valuable as those sheets of paper.]

[shenevermisses]

Clove waited. She might have even waited too long. But she wanted to be sure she wouldn't disrupt the woman in charge by her approach. This woman reminded Clove of a Peacekeeper or someone like that. She was definitely important, and Clove didn't want to interrupt her work. Still, she wanted to make herself known. Even if she might not be the Malnosso, wasn't that the advice she had been given? Make sure she was known? Known but ready to help.

She'd stripped down to a short-sleeved shirt and her vest of knives. Her jacket wasn't needed here, but she had it in her pack, just in case the nights got cold. Like in the Arena.

"Excuse me." Be polite. Like talking with someone in the Capitol or a Peacekeeper. "For supplies for the camp-- where should be get those? Is there anything we shouldn't have? I don't want to take what's not ours to have." Not when they were supposed to ally with these people, not when there had to be some version of trust. Even if it wouldn't exist if they turned on each another.

Foreman Hoi Hidekan; Day One

[malnosso]

On the night of the first day, the volunteers had returned to their encampment outside the depot’s town. After they had got things set up, a few figures approached the encampment. After a bit of convincing to show they meant no ill will, they requested a chance to speak to anyone willing to follow them back to their own camp. Any who chose to follow them would be led about a mile away to where the FTSA had a setup of their own. Curiously, there wasn’t as many people there was would be befitting an all out invasion. But they would have a chance to talk to the man in charge. Hoi Hidekan.

Anyone who decided to talk to him would have no trouble of it. He had his own tent, one large enough to plot and discuss strategy. He himself was sitting at a table, leaned over a table with a map of the area they were currently it. Whenever someone would walk in to speak with him, he’d stand up, greet them with a smile, and invite them to sit.

[ DAY ONE ]

[lucetimods]

[greenjacketed]

Old habits die hardest. It was the first night and Sharpe prodded the toe of his boot -- a new boot, too -- against a stray log. Urging it back onto his fire. As he watched the flames lick the darkness, he sang. His voice wasn't sweet nor tuneful. It was low and clumsy and it hardly held a note without wavering in some gravelly fashion. But the song had been patched together by one of his own men and Sharpe craved the familiarity. It wasn't that he didn't trust the volunteers he'd been sent with. Far from it! But they weren't Hagman, Cooper, Harris, Perkins, or Harper. Not D'Alembord nor Harry Price nor his embittered, long-dead wife. The Depot's Sheriff had reminded him of Teresa with her hard expressions and her causes. BUt that had been where the similarities had ended.

The soldier sighed and tipped his cold canteen of tea over the meagre flame, dousing it. For old habits died hardest and he wanted to walk a piquet 'round their rag-tag camp. So Sharpe gathered his greatcoat around his shoulders -- funny how the hot, burning desert got so bloody cold at night! -- and slung his beloved rifle.

His heart was in turmoil, for which side was he to take? And was it bad enough that he was at a loss to begin with? Some of their number seemed so certain. Perhaps the walk would help. And -- perhaps -- he'd stop and chat with anyone else still awake on this first night.

[bionically]

[Fresh out of the Federal-Imperial war, and here he was again, on the battlefield, a gun at his hip and his life soon hanging in the balance. It’s while he feels his pulse pounding briskly with the primal thrill of the battle to come that Spencer remembers Emily most. Her face crumpling, her eyes wide and desperately searching his. The way they had glinted sharply with anger and hurt and fear.

No… No, Nathan. It’s all she had been able to say, then, just shaking her head incredulously. A hand pressed to her mouth. Please, God, no.

How could he begin to explain to her how he’d felt while convalescing weeks on end, trembling as much from the itch of restlessness that had gone deeper than flesh and bone as from the bouts of phantom pain twinging his nerves? He had tried, still, frustrated with his own inarticulacy and her seeming inability to understand that the situation out there was greater than themselves and their own wants and needs. But that in fighting for the FSA and its freedom, he had still been fighting for them and their future.

What about now? What if you go, and we no longer have a future? What then? What am I supposed to do?

Spencer gazes deeply into the little fire set up by the camp, grabbing a stick and reaching out to stoke the flames. Feel free to join him on this cool desert evening.]

[ DAY ONE and two because deal. with. it. ]

[blessingone]

[ Fenimore hasn't ever seen a desert before: before the ocean flooded Luceti's, she had felt no particular urge to head out that way and she hadn't had much of a chance to travel back home. She'd done a little reading before heading out, but she's not exactly experienced in looking things up in a library. She ended up with a book less about desert survival and more about deserts as an ecosystem. She took it with her anyway, along with the case for a pistol she had picked up in a previous experiment and never actually returned to the smithy.

Still, she picks up on the basics pretty well, emphasizing shade and water. She's replaced her standard twintails for a ponytail to keep her hair out of the way of a wide-brimmed hat and is in her lightest, fully covering clothes -- though, since they are pretty much all white with only small blue accents, she probably practically shines in the sun. After the camp has been set up, she sets up a few lean-tos around the edges of the camp to allow anyone who might try patrolling the perimeter or standing watch to rest. She also will be very willing to vigorously scold anyone she catches appearing to miss the survival tips she's absorbed.

Deserts aside, though, her focus remains on the same basics she emphasized last time she was working at a camp on a mission. The beds -- such as they are; they may very well be just simple hammocks or bedrolls, depending on the supplies they are given -- are made with care. On the second day, she'll even air them out before remaking them. Any messes in the camp are quietly tidied up -- not necessarily happily, but if there are any messy people, she'll try to remind herself that they have their own jobs that involve more blood (others or their own, depending) than hers. But her main focus lies in making sure people are fed well under the circumstances. Fenimore isn't some kind of professional chef, but she is a solid one and simple meals in low technology are her specialty. She believes that solid meals and solid rest will do the best for morale -- and keeping busy keeps her from dwelling on the fact that she really does not want to be here even if she did volunteer.

She can also occasionally be found poking around the depot and trying to strike up some conversation with the residents, but most of the time is spent at the camp.

When night falls, she discovers that she didn't read enough about deserts. She'd found out that deserts got cold at night, but she assumed that it meant relative to the heat of the day and just brought slightly thicker clothes to put over top. She didn't expect it to be quite this cold, which is why she can be found going about the same activities as during the day, except done while hunched under two blankets wrapped about her like a rather inefficient cloak. She tries to remain friendly when she approaches the other people in the camp, but she's inclined to grumble a bit at the temperature difference. As it comes time to sleep, she takes a few moments to flip through the desert book she'd brought along, still huddled under the blankets.

The second day progresses much like the first -- busy in the camp with only some poking about the depot -- but it seems that, despite her scolding of any others who don't take care of themselves, she's started to take some of the survival skills for granted. She might not be drinking water quite often enough or bothering to seek the shade as much as she should. But when she starts to feel a little light-headed, she's inclined to just wipe away the sweat from her brow and work through the headache. Keeps her mind off the approaching fight. It would probably be good for someone to stop her before she stops sweating and heads from heat exhaustion towards heat stroke. She's also turning a bit red since she doesn't know about sunscreen and underestimates the reflection from the sand making its way under her hat.

Assuming that she does get directed to take a break before returning to work with a little more respect for the desert climate, she can be found sitting in the shade turning the revolver she'd been given over in her hands. She doesn't intend to have to use it, but still. She had learned how to handle a gun during an experiment, but those memories are somewhat hazy and hadn't involved revolvers in particular. She practices reloading and pointing it without firing, her motions rather awkward but not entirely unfamiliar.]

Avatar: The Last Quartermaster

[savedtheworld]

[Aang's been in the desert before. Sure, it was one of the most miserable experiences of his life, but it was enough for him to at least undertake some precautions. And he's also good at setting up camp. He spends a good portion of the first day helping to set everything up, maybe dispensing a tip or two he remembers from his travels and whistling while he works.

Once things are set up, he'll be buzzing around - to make sure everything's up right and to spread water and hats (many of which are fairly goofy in nature) and such around, often with a smile and a quick joke.]

[disastergirl]

[In a way it felt refreshing to get out of that little town and go somewhere new. Still, she wasn't doing any treasure hunting, and it didn't feel right at all to compare this to the work she had done as a bounty hunter. Hunting and fighting monsters was one thing, but people? She honestly wasn't sure she could manage it. THere was no avoiding it now as far as she was concerned, though. She signed up, and now she had to stick with it.

--That was how she felt this morning, but by dusk her feelings had changed somewhat. Was she the youngest one there? She was almost certain there were at least a few who had looked at her with disapproval for being there in the first place too. It was a bit...well, lonely, being there without anyone her own age (that she knew of) to talk to.

Well, a breath of fresh air would probably make her feel better. Right?]

[ DAY TWO ]

[lucetimods]

[thedicearecast]

By the second day, Amelia had decided. Speaking with the Sheriff and the Foreman both had set that choice in stone for her, but she knew other people didn't feel the same. Maybe she wouldn't, without the experiences she'd had. But this place was too much like home for her, and Amelia knew just how bad things could get when they all went wrong.

It'd be nice if the people could have power, and a voice like Hoi had said. But when it came down to the question of cost, Amelia couldn't justify that much agony, and that many lives. There was a line when the people trying to fight for the right thing stopped being right, and Hoi was about to step over it.

So she focused on the job she had been brought there to do. Not just firing a gun, but making sure other people knew how to do the same. Talking to people who had started to doubt, because that would amount to hesitation whenever the attack finally came, and hesitation turned into deaths. Figuring out the best way to defend the town with whoever stayed and was willing to fight--because she had to give it to Hoi. He offered that third option that so simple and so brilliant. To just do nothing. Don't take a side, one way or the other. Don't get involved.

Except letting it happen was still playing a part, and worse? They wouldn't be the ones forced to pay the price for it.

She could be found nearly anywhere that day, at some point or another. Ultimately, when it was getting late and it'd be wiser to head back to camp to sleep, Amelia ended up in the saloon. If they'd let her have a drink or two, she'd take her time sipping them; otherwise she'd stick to water. Either way she'd watch the people interact around her, both the ones from Luceti and Depot 8. This place more than any other reminded her of Gunsmoke--of home, and just how awful it could be.

[shenevermisses]

[Clove takes something akin to a nap as dawn comes, sleeping for about four hours before she seeks out the experts from the Depot who Sheriff Williams mentioned.

The rest of the day, either with them or on her own, Clove is learning how to use a gun. She practices loading the gun, working on speed. Because it's like having to fetch her thrown knives -- except it gives her a lot more time to attack again. That proves easy enough. She has it down quickly.

What isn't so easy is aim. The kickback is remarkable, and it takes her a good eleven bullets before she hits one of the glass bottles from about fifty feet. Even then, it rips through the side of the bottle, not the middle.]

[asthehawkflies]

[If it weren't for the potential deaths in the near future, Clint would be enjoying himself a hell of a lot. He's in a freaking Western, with a six shooter and a Stetson for crying out loud, and he looks damn good in it if he does say so himself.

Alright, he's still enjoying himself more than is probably healthy but he's at least managing to damp down his grin enough to look suitably serious and professional.

He's spending most of his time surveying the depot, first from the ground and then hauling himself up onto the rooftops and checking from there, looking for the perfect vantage point to snipe from.]

[frost_jewel]

There wasn't much for a healer to do in the days leading up to their looming conflict. It took very little time to familiarize herself with the local clinic; the place had a friendlier, closer-knit feeling to it than either of those in Luceti. That impression left Mia's heart aching for home, her real home, in her off-guard moments.

Then there were, of course, those who had not decided to learn to use their 'new' weapons safely and arrived with (mostly) minor injuries related to them. Though never pleased to see anyone hurt, Mia's pragmatic side kept insisting that it was better she get the practice dealing with these types of accidents now. It would make a difference later.

The heat of the desert was no friend of hers, but she sat for a while in the shade of the clinic building to consider whether she would be taking a side. That wasn't her job here, but what if inaction resulted in something worse happening?

[bamboozler]

[On the first day, Panda wasn't much help at all. The desert weather wasn't very good for a growing panda such as himself, and he was seriously limited in how much he could actually set up camp.

Day two brings an entirely different Panda. Everyone is off doing their own thing, but there are still certain things he has to do as a Quartermaster. Wherever your character is, they may find Panda running after them with a canteen of water, ready to tell them to rehydrate themselves. Or he'll just show up to check on people and see how he can help them this time.

Of course, by the end of the day, he's going to take a few breaks in the shade. Pandas do sweat, so he has to cool off himself...and he might be a bit dramatic when it comes to that.

For the most part, he's completely oblivious to what everyone else is thinking about and just doing as he's told. Ignorance is bliss.]

[deathsdoctor]

[It's a homey, well knit town, and a tighter knit clinic. Law finds the adjustment to the ebb and flow of the patients coming in easy. There's not much work yet. Just minor accidents from gun training, and the injuries are easy to treat. He knows gun wounds like the back of his hand.

The local doctor is with his and his colleague. He quickly learns what he's capable of and more importantly, what he's not. He gets clucked at fatherly for his lack of gun. His job wasn't to fight and take sides, but sometimes a man had to defend himself or his own interests.

... quite right that.

Nighttime sees the pirate brooding by the fire. A bottle of Jack Daniels he charmed from the barkeep dangles untouched from his fingers. Just quiet, keeping his own council. But it's clear there's much on his mind.

That's true of them all.]

[markofthewise]

Sokka had talked to the Sheriff and to the FTSA. He felt miserable. He was a big picture kind of guy. He was pretty convinced that it wouldn't be a bad idea to take the risk. But it asked a cost too high for him to pay. Turning his weapon on his friends from Luceti. He could never expect them to change sides. And with that in mind, he stuck to the assigned duty at Depot 8.

In the town, Sokka has found a rifle that fits his liking. Oh, he has a pair of pistols too, but Sokka valued accuracy over portability. Sitting on the platform outside the local barbershop (he convinced the barber to give him a trim), Sokka was going through the motions. Load. Unload. Check the barrel. Feel out the scope. But it was so foreign to him. Sort of... wrong.

So he did it again. Because dammit, he was a scientist. Guns were science. He was going to make himself okay with it.

[ DAY TWO ]

[somethingtoavenge]

[It's the second day of the mission. Up early with the sun Coulson managed to scrounge up some coffee from those at Depot 8 and may be seen waiting for water to boil while muttering about mission coffee around a few coffee beans he's sucking on.

After gaining coffee, he walks around town seeing what others are doing in preparation for the next day. Coulson sees where the choke points and the open areas are, building a map for the conflict in his head. It is tentative at best since things always change in a firefight but it's a good outline of possibilities.

Those from Luceti he may talk to, certainly he'll stop and talk if you approach him first, but he's mainly getting a feel for the land as the day goes by.

As evening falls he heads back to the camp. It's an early night for the man in preparation for a long day tomorrow. However he's always up for a bit of last minute talk before it grows to late. If you try to make it drag on too long though, he may point out tomorrows fight and all the ways being tired can really mess with your aim.]

[ DAY THREE ]

[lucetimods]

Note: This thread is going up now that it’s the 20th. Due to the lack of any signups for the FTSA, there was no need for a roll. Without any aid from the volunteers from Luceti, the FTSA find themselves at a distinct disadvantage against Depot 8 and its protectors. Ultimately victory will fall to Depot 8, but herein lies the details.

On the twentieth, at high noon with the sun beating down on them, tumbleweeds rolling in the distance, the battle begins. Foreman Hidekan and his posse of FTSA activists ride into the town to begin the battle. Their goal is to plant dynamite at the heart of Depot 8’s power generator, in the hopes of causing a chain reaction that will take down the entire facility. All that’s left to the Sheriff and her crew (including Luceti’s volunteers) is to defend the town at any cost or to die trying.

The battle itself will begin with the riders from the FTSA and Iron Eye riding in from the west at high noon. Though this will give marksmen a chance to shoot them down as they come in, don’t expect all of them to be taken down so easily. Many of them possess super human strength, speed, or durability. Furthermore, they are smart enough to figure out the locations of snipers and attempt to weed them out. Although the advantage will belong to Depot 8, this will still not be an easy victory. Many of the NPCs involved will end up with injuries, many of them fatal. Consequently some of the volunteers may catch a stray bullet that needs fixed up as well. Although the fighting will primarily take place in the streets, the Iron Eye marauders will enter buildings for cover or to root out gunners shooting from the windows. Some of them may make use of small explosives (like molotov cocktails) or smoke bombs for a similar purpose. If you need ideas for how it should play out, the suggestion would be to find a nice Western shootout. There’s no shortage of them on Youtube.

Everyone will be armed with guns of one sort or another and it is up to each individual how they spend or save their ammo -- although they will begin with a surplus, the vagaries of battle and the hassle of archaic reload times might very well compromise your ability to fire willy-nilly. Make use of cover, empty buildings, or else go all in and try to blaze a bullet trail through the mounted mercenaries.

Speaking of! The Iron Eye is a mercenary band hired by Hidekan and the FTSA in order to boost their numbers for the Depot assault. The majority of the crew will be on horseback, possess excellent gunmanship. Think of Iron Eye members as ‘levelled-up’ baddies to battle, whereas the defenders will usually have an easier time defeating the FTSA. Notably the Iron Eye are accurate marksmen, but will be avoiding kill shots when possible. They are seemingly not interested in a slaughter.

Although Sheriff Williams has intimated that no enemy (FTSA or Iron Eye) will be spared or taken prisoner, volunteers do not need to follow this order to the letter. If they can come up with a way to tie up, suppress, or otherwise simply incapacitate their enemies? All the power to them. This goes doubly so for the assigned medics, who may heal indiscriminately without punishment. Note, however, that the Depot’s inhabitants will not be so merciful. Even young children can be seen attempting to defend their town with utter ruthlessness.

FTSA and Iron Eye gunners will take cover and try to take the town by force while Hidekan attempts to place the charge. The battle itself may seem brief, likely taking place over the course of thirty minutes, but it will be a fierce battle. At some point, the news comes down the line that Hidekan has fallen and the dynamite confiscated long before he managed to get underground.

Although there was no die roll, there was chatter about potentially faking Hidekan’s death for the sake of sparing him. This is absolutely an option (although it may end up handwaved) and if this is the case, it is enough that his plan has failed. He will wait out the post-battle before helping what’s left of his FTSA crew out of the city; Depot 8 will presume him a casualty.

Day 3

[markofthewise]

The third day rolls in and Sokka is on edge as the sun rises high in the sky. He stationed himself in one of the houses, on the second floor. He ultimately chose a rifle for better aim, though he hoped his boomerang would serve him better. Something about this didn't seem right to him. This was different than fighting cultists. He was fighting people who could be friends. It really was the worst.

Once the firefight breaks out, Sokka will be doing his best to shoot them down, but eventually they break into the building and the fight moves to close quarters. Backup? Yeah, he could use it.

Day 3, open

[ivanyouidiot]

Ivan wasn't used to this whole low-tech fighting, although it might be fairer to say that he didn't have much actual combat experience at all. Not the shooting people and then they die kind, certainly. Still, he was trained, and he had his orders, and he'd been able to talk to some of the people around the town to have an idea of what was on the line for everyone.

He would do as he was told, and he would just focus on doing it well, instead of the way the dust made him sneeze and the sight of the bodies as they fell. Right. "Is there a way we can do this with less killing? Just, as a suggestion?"

Day 3

[jamesbarnes]

[Bucky will start off on the rooftops. He'll incapacitate as many as he can while they ride in, generally by taking out their horses. He'll be avoiding kill-shots as much as possible, unless he sees someone being pinned down.

The Iron Eye guns flush him out pretty early and when he moves to the ground, he trades his rifle for a pair of six-shooters and better cover. He's doing fine until he takes a bullet to the thigh, and then he's pinned down himself, and low on ammo to boot. Things can change fast in a firefight. Little help, cavalry?]

[calmbeforethe]

[Ororo decided that her primary concern was going to be making sure none of the FTSA who got past Depot 8's first line of shooters would get to those who could not defend themselves. Unfortunately that was still quite a lot of FTSA to deal with.

She was stationed between houses, picking out those that got too close and ducking behind walls to reload the handy revolvers she'd procured for this battle. Ammo was low and that was worrying since the quartermasters were beyond busy themselves, but if worst comes to worst, well, she was pretty handy in a knife fight.]