Skeezics took the moment to slap one of his last two magazines into his smoking auto gun and then peered over the top of the baracade again to see if he could discern the source of this moments respite. But in the chemical and shell blasted remains of the crop fields he could see nothing. In the small clump of battered woods beyond he heard another series of explosions and cries from wounded nomads. Skeezics couldn't see who....but some one was giving the nomads hell. This brought a breif smile to his face...the first of those in many long days as well. Frankly he didn't care who was killing nomads...he was just happy they were dying.
Suddenly from the billowing clouds of smoke and fire that now filled the woods beyond emerged a strange figure. He was trotting nonchalantly across the blasted wasteland toward the defenders baracade. Skeezics drew a bead on the man...but realized that he wasn't armed and didn't seem to be a threat.
"Hold fire" he shouted to the few remaining defenders of the baracade and glanced to either side to ensure that no one blasted this stranger before they determined his intentions.
Suddenly several lines of tracers emerged from the woods directed toward the stranger. He increased his pace and sprinted nimbly toward the baracade. Skeezics could now see that he was dressed in a red coat and hat and seemed to be carrying a large sack of some sort over his shoulder...his face covered by a gas mask...a reasonable precaution when traversing the chemical wastelands.
The defenders stared in shocked silence as this strage figue approached and then hopped over the baracade...bringing his heavy load with him. As the defenders gathered around, the stranger said nothing but reached into his sack and handed each a package. Some received boxes of ammo others med kits and some were given MREs. They all muttered their surprised thanks at this unexpected, and much needed, resupply but received no response in return.
Once each defender had received their packaged the strange man gathered up his sack and hopped over the baracade once again and disappeared into the fog of war...he hadn't said a word...but as his silhouette faded into the mist they heard:
"Merry Christmas to all and to all another night!"
The defenders all stared at each other in stunned silence...not sure what to make of this unexpected experience. But the moment of peace was suddenly shattered as several mortar rounds exploded near the barn and nomad fire once again began to shred the baracade behind which they sheltered.
Skeezics checked his weapons load...racked a round into the chamber and peered back over the baracade looking for a target, the surprised smile still on his lips a new found feeling of confidence that they might actually survive to see another night...
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all my Oldhammer friends...I hope you all enjoy whatever time off you have and get a lot of painting done!