Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20160126170544/@comment-26809040-20160201050412

Eric stopped his slow pace through the fog when the snarls of ferals and the red beams of laser rifles came from a little ways up ahead. It seemed he had found where Clyde had run off to.

He still had a good amount of 10mm rounds on him, but saw no reason to waste any more ammo. Looking around, he spotted a cluster of old trees with a few dead ferals next to them. Looking from the trees to the sounds, he decided on a plan. Eric walked to the best distance he could get from the trees while still seeing them, dug a half-empty bottle of vodka and a dirty rag out of his pack, and lit the molotov after a few tries.

Hefting the bottle in hand, he hurled it towards the trees and corpses. Ghouls were drawn toward movement, and the smell of fresh meat. Those dead ones were by no means fresh, but he hoped that roasting them would suffice. He then began a slow and careful walk towards the crypt, giving the fire and ferals a wide berth, and counting on his rotten smell to deter any straggelers.