Welcome To Gamma World

After greeting the children playing their game, Psibocorn ambles out to the new arrivals to express his appreciation and admiration for the job they did in fighting off the attackers.

Garrthon notices it first, and Sterlin a moment later, that, while the head is bobbing, Psibocorn doesn't actually have a mouth on his head, which bobs and wags in a very expressive manner. Instead, Psibocorn's mouth is at his waist. Psibocorn, a refugee from a space war, found himself stranded on Earth some time ago, and is slowly learning how to talk from various recordings as well as interactions with actual "locals" (meaning everyone on Earth). As such, his dialog is always a little suspect: does he really mean what he's saying, or is he trying to convey some other idea? "Do you know, I found that a frightfully inspiring demonstration of martial prowess just then. It's inspiring me to take up my weapons and fight too, dontcha know."

As the alien looking creature finishes its greeting, a shadow passes over the newcomers. Before anyone can turn and look for what caused the shadow a soft rumbling sound catches your attention and you turn to see what appears to be a half-rotten corpse roll up to you on a skateboard. It stops about ten feet away and stands looking at everyone with dead glassy eyes.
"...uuhhh." it says, in a ton you cannot interpret.

Toth, startled by the newcomers, considers declaring initiative. He pauses, waiting for signs of aggression, and then spits in the dust. "Yeah? I don't got no prollems with scavs, you wanna throw down some drones."

Trent comes ambling from the barracks with the best smile that a living tree can muster.

"Ah, I see you've met some of the other citizens of Haven. Believe it or not we do have some capable soldiers. Psibocorn and Opera here are two quite capable. After that last attack we have implored your other two compatriots to help us with rescue and recover of our citizens still lost in the rubble of the attack", Trent explains, he gestures out to the large buildings in the center of the compound that have freshly crumbled portions where the drones did some structural damage.

"I hope you will bring Psibocorn and Opera with you to retrieve the generators. I know they will serve you well. All of us who reside here would gladly give our lives to see this place stand", he says, his leaves bristle with passion as he speaks.

With a soft flutter of feathers, a slender form drops from the roof behind. The woman is an Avian of Raven heritage. Her head and wings covered in midnight blue feathers, her body feathers are slightly more gray. She stands out in sharp relief against the bright sun. She wears a gray and black hooded jacket and a red bikini. She perches on a pair of strange shoes, they appear to be the front portion of soles of platform boots, the leather removed, and a handle bolted to them...perches she can walk on. Her wings connect low on her back and she wraps them like a skirt around her legs once they are folded properly, making it appear she wears dress made of feathers. Her muscles are well toned, but her overall appearance is frail, not an uncommon trait among Avian...especially the Ravenborn.

"Soldiering isn't really my thing though. My talents lie more in the scout and recon territories, not that I'm afraid to get my hands dirty. I generally leave the heavy lifting to Dead Fred over there." She waves a dismissive hand at the zombie holding the skate board. Dead Fred answers with another soft moan "...uuuuhhhh." and shambles over to stand beside his mistress.

Ah, yes. Right you are, Opera. I think your eyes may be the best to keep a watchful eye out for danger", Trent says as he scratches at his bark.

"Well don't just stand there barkin at us, we got holes to dig." Toth leads the way to the trucks.

"So, should I get flappin and check it out or do we want to just go in guns blazing?"

"I am all for you scouting ahead Opera. We may know that we are up against the Porkers, but who knows what surprises they may have in store."

Psibocorn does a strange head waggle. "I absolutely think that is the best pizza for this situation. We'll flonk here while you gazebo. If you psalter any yahoo, we'll travail in no short order."

Toth nods in possible agreement with Psibocorn, and loads his speargun.

Opera takes flight and scouts the structure, looking for guard posts and sniper nests. The goal is to find the best angle of approach and hopefully get a count of how many porkers might be around.

Opera meets back up the rest of the party after making her run.

"Good news and bad news, and potentially more bad news I'm afraid. Good news is there don't seem to be that many porkers around. There aren't that many bikes and they don't usually ride more than one to a hog. The bad news is I didn't actually see anyone mucking about. The potentially more bad news is they've got company. There's another vehicle parked next to the bikes. I've never seen anything like it, so it doesn't help us to know what we are facing inside.

Next topic of discussion is our approach. The terrain is pretty open. We can go for a frontal assault, but they will see us coming. We can hit fast and hit hard that way, and I don't think our chances are horrible if we go that way. Other option is we go around back and use that cliff to get on top of the building and reign death from above style. The downside to that is we lose our speed advantage. I don't think the trucks can make the drive up to the incline so we'd have to go on foot. If they've made us already they will be watching and ready. I suppose we could wait for nightfall and try either of these tactics though."

"Them porkers prolly like their bikes. Be a shame if someone smashed em up a bit." Toth picks something out of his hair, examines it, then pops it into his mouth. "They maybe run out all angry and then it's shooting pigs in a blanket."

"That's a very interesting point! I like that plan too."

Psibocorn, confident of his Timewalking ability, waggles his fingers at the group again (which causes his head to nod, slightly coming apart as it does so). He believes this finger-waggling is a way of indicating agreement. "Day core." It starts to walk toward the smoking warehouse, readying its Trilasm.

(OoC: what are the distances we're talking about, here? How long will it take us to get into shooting range of the bikes?)

Psibocorn becomes unnaturally still and glides over to one of the rock outcroppings, taking cover and aiming his Trilasm while waiting for the others to come up alongside.