Gam Grig and Dahn are walking the street after the most recent zombie sweep. The zombie ranks were thin, and there weren't many zombies left to be slaying, just one every so often, and our heroes couldn't understand why the hell gray lady hadn't sent them home ( Read more... )

Yup, it's about time I added on to the story, right? Well, yeah. But I have to apologize in advance to a certain individual. That would be Joss Whedon, and it would be because that this chapter is in many ways, often blatently, a rip off of Firefly and/or Serenity. I hope that it is regarded as a compliment, seeing as these two elements of fiction ( Read more... )

"Looks like we're going to have about fifteen to twenty minutes until another wave of the demons hits," Velis says, leaping down from a building. "I suggest we either root in, or back out. What do you think ( Read more... )

http://www.geocities.com/the_gambit_7/players.html

Just thought you might want to know.

It's early. About two hours before dawn when the hidden door to Gam's underground bunker opens and a guy walks in. His whole uniform is black, with the exception of a giant red X on his chest, and a skull with a red X on it on his full face mask. On his utility belt are a pair of red night-sticks. His step into the bunker is met with some ( Read more... )

It's a hard cold winter off the Alaskan coast. There's a treacherous storm, with waves almost as tall as a crab fishing boat that's still reeling in it's traps. Two of the deckhands, greenhorns, were running a skeleton crew on the deck. For the first few days, they were still on the learning curve, but by that morning they were acting like seasoned ( Read more... )

Gam's busy rigging some explosives as Grig is distributing guns. Dhanianna, assisting in that task, turns to Grig and asks, "Do you think Gam will use a gun in this situation ( Read more... )

It's late at night. A new moon, so it's relatively pitch black. There's a boy, probably about 16, maybe 17, running through a cornfield. A casual observer would only see him running as if for his life. A qualified observer would notice his dirty boots, dusty jeans, faded flannel shirt, and sweaty fedora atop his head. An expert in this kind of ( Read more... )

(( As of the last commentary ( Read more... )

Grig pulls back a hatch covering a manhole, and then pries the manhole open with his K-bar ( Read more... )