[Lucky Boy]

Henry Jones - Walkin' about Town Classic Style

Heny Jones, blood brother to Kim Jones, scurred about town as he looked around towards each door, the grassy green hued lawns reminded him of his old house, it's lush glossy grass and it's velbrent shades of blue as it's canvas.. beautiful, it was - truely - beautiful. Passing the people along the streets, passing glances fell upon him, his young barely matured figure stood out among the town of survivors. His blue eyes watched as he settled uneasy from the glares of elderly, broken and abused in their shell they called flesh and life. One day, he knew, that shell was to wither away into dust and out emerge a butterfly - weather or not it was beautiful, pending upon one's karma. Henry didn't believe in instant karma, but karma he did. And when did it come to show? He asked upon himself. When the elderly dance free of their state and by God can either fly, fall, in that case parish from the verge of exhistance as we know it.

Counting the houses mentally, coming dangerously close to alter his blissful state of sound, just dimly, but altering it in a way. Counting the houses; 266, 222, 212. So close he felt to the house in which Jerome had settled,but was it just his walk? His turn three blocks over, or just him? Him... that was making him do this. He wasn't use to Jerome or Siento aka "Killometer" was usually by the Saloon which he had passed some where along the way, along side the countless amounts of glares and forlorn hearts. The state of depression is an eerie and formidable one. Once you get svcked into it's bowls, its nearly impossible to escape from it's deep inner clutches. But if you didn't - it kept you prisoner. To do it's bidding at the offer, he - a meer seventeen year old boy was not going to let that happen to him, or Alice, or Kim - especially Kim -, Siento, or Jerome. No, his plan was to thrive in this modern age of depression and infany.

Thrive... that is what he'll do. And in his well doing he will clean up the scraps of what he - and the rest of the world - left behind. Rather it be people, or items, nether the less.. he was bound to be a prospector. He always did like their lifestyle, free to roam - with worries of course... for without worries all we would be were drifting clouds, their only worry of being where they're going, it any at all.

He finally, after his long aganizing search through the entire sector A of houses, came across what he had been looking for. 122... he thought muggly, as he placed a foot on the cement pave that lead up to the well-made house, glaring in all it's wonder for a second, he took a deep breath and knocked on the Elijha family's front door...

[ANaIs GRelot]

John Halsey
Whittier
Halsey Home/Workshop
11:23

John was closing shop to head for the saloon for lunch with his group like he always did on the days that they would go drill out on the slopes. John always made sure they had a good meal and went over what they were going to do in the days training before they actually went out above the town to do so. They would always meet at the saloon for some old fashioned caribou steak that John could already smell from his shop across town.

11:38

As John walked into the saloon he noticed that the bar was full as normal around this time with a lot of the regulars eating what they always did..the Famous Caribou Steak. John inhaled deeply loving the smell as it was one of the few comforts left in this world.

John noticed Samuel Plainview and a few other militia men crowded around a table. John thought about checking it out but he figured that he would figure it all out later if it was important. John got to his groups usual table to see them already praying over their food. John waited quietly listening to Gavin praying as was custom and as soon as they were done he took his seat next to Gavin and across from Samantha the only female in his group.

"Nice for you to join us sir."

"Shut it Jim-bo..todays gonna be a big day I feel."

[Deon Knight]

Samuel Plainview
Whittier- Lionel’s Saloon and Diner
11:30 AM

Sam shook hands with Jason, cracking a bit of a smile as he finished off the rest of his beer and left the empty bottle right in the middle of the table. In just a few minutes, the entire saloon seemed to have picked up around Samuel as some more militia members came walking in. But they weren’t apart of his Section, they were from Tweed’s Section. Everyone kind of kept their distance from the four, not wanting to possibly set them off, they seemed so high strung and angry.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jason,” Sam said turning to Andrew. “I’m sure it won’t be too troublesome, but who can tell?”

Then James chimed in, reminding Sam of his question about James running his men. “You heard right, I've got them doing extra physical work for now, they're going to need to be at their best.”

“You’re right,” Sam said, but not completely convinced. “But there’s a difference between being your best, and being too run out because of training, to put any of that training to use properly. Just don’t run them too hard, alright? I want all the groups in my Section to be at their best, and I know they will when the time comes, but I won’t have my Group Leaders running their men to exhaustion.”

Sam paused as the four militia members from Tweed’s Section glanced over at him, cold stares in each of their eyes, before walking off back out onto the street to do as they pleased. Sam wasn’t sure what that was all about, but it didn’t seem good whatever it was. James caught Sam’s attention once again, with a couple of questions.

“Do we have any idea what the tribals are planning?” He asked.

“Nothing more than the usual. We know they’re on their way, that’s for sure, but when they’ll be here, is still up in the air. The group that got ambushed, was Jeremy Olds’ group, and from his report alone, it seems we’re running out of time. Where they got ambushed, wasn’t far from the spot they were to check last before returning home.”

“And what about Tweed’s Section? After a hit like that, they’ll be below strength for awhile. Does that mean the rest of us are going to have to pick up his slack?”

“Sure does. But exactly how the time spent out there will be split, I have yet to speak with Randolph about. When we figure it out, you’ll both, along with the rest will all hear about it soon enough.”

Sam smiled, hoping that would put an ease to James’s questions, when suddenly a man along with Henry, came walking in as if they were determined about something.

“Henry!” Sam called, waving him and the man over. But their looks made Sam think twice of why they were in the saloon.

“Sir,” the man with a bag slung over one side, said first.

“How’s it going, sir?” Henry asked solemnly as the man pulled out a letter.

“What’s this?” Sam asked, taking the letter in hand.

“Just read it sir,” Henry said, “it’s important.”

Sam nodded and looked at Andrew and James, before doing so. He read the letter quietly to himself, when his eyes widened like never before. He had to clench his jaw shut, just so it wouldn’t hit the table, the news was so sudden and shocking.

“Christ, is it true?” Sam asked looking to the messenger and Henry.

“Afraid so, sir,” the messenger said. “From the Mayor himself, to you and the other Section Commanders.”

Sam nodded motioned for Henry to step closer, before standing up from his seat. He cleared his throat, and looked at everyone in the saloon. The place got deathly silent once again. “It seems our time of preparing for this moment, has run out. The tribals have made their move, and are on their way here as I speak. According to this letter, they’ll be here sooner than any of us would like.”

Sam paused and let the news soak in a bit, before continuing with his own news and orders. “All Group Leaders in my Section, are to gather up their Groups immediately. Don’t get hung up or get stuck on specifics, just gather them up and assemble near the mouth of the tunnel for combat. Remember to bring everything you’ll need, it sounds like this will be the big one we’ve all talked about for awhile.”

The room suddenly seemed to have an uneasy feel to it, as Sam let the Group Leaders and whoever else was in the bar, go do as they had to do. The time for any explanations and answers, would have to come later, if at all, as Sam turned to Henry and the messenger he was with.

“Henry, gather up Ida and the others in our group, and have them form up at the mouth of the tunnel as well.”

“Ye sir!” Henry said, before urgently running out of the saloon.

“You, messenger boy, find the rest of the Group Commanders in my Section, and tell them the news. You’ll find Group Leader Wesley Cook, at the clinic most likely first. The others you’ll just have to use some common sense. Now hurry!”

The messenger nodded and hurried out of the saloon just as quick as Henry. Sam followed behind, thinking of where Randolph and Tweed’s Sections were. Then he remembered, the majority of Randolph’s Section was already at the forward defenses, and Tweed’s would no doubt be at the mouth of the tunnel already, dealing with things at the base and range. That just left his own Section, entirely in Whittier.

Quickly, Sam hurried to his home to prepare for the battle ahead. This would be the decisive battle for Whittier, whether they survived or were wiped out, and whether Whittier would become just a memory in an already unforgiving world.

[Chloe :)]

Harry, Hutch, Bob and Alice were just about to leave before two men - messengers, presumably - came rushing into the saloon. Harry looked on intently as one of them delivered a letter to Section Commander Plainview, who was evidently disturbed by the letter's contents. Reacting to Plainview's expression, Harry edged forward on his stool and tried to discern what his commander was muttering to the messenger, his body tense. It was then that Plainview made a grave announcement, silencing the saloon.

“It seems our time of preparing for this moment, has run out. The tribals have made their move, and are on their way here as I speak. According to this letter, they’ll be here sooner than any of us would like. All Group Leaders in my Section, are to gather up their Groups immediately. Don’t get hung up or get stuck on specifics, just gather them up and assemble near the mouth of the tunnel for combat. Remember to bring everything you’ll need, it sounds like this will be the big one we’ve all talked about for awhile.”

Harry stood up from his stool and banged his fist on the counter. "I knew it!" he exclaimed, spit sent sailing out of his mouth. His fists clenched and shaking ever so slightly, Harry addressed his group collectively. "The three of you, get over to the barracks and get Leon and Paul mobilised. They've been staying there for the past few weeks, remember? Gather up any supplies you can: weapons, ammo, stims, meds, whatever. Hutch, your armour's stored there; get geared up and be quick about it. After you're done, assume position at the tunnel. Now, get moving. Go!"

The three complied and paced off in the direction of the barracks. Harry downed the remaining dregs of his water and sprinted out of the saloon and towards his home in Housing Sect. One, pushing his way through the solemn crowds if he had to. He attracted the stares of Whittier's townsfolk and was met with gasps as he accidentally knocked a woman off her feet. Harry didn't dwell on it, though, as only one train thought permeated his mind. Why the [censored] aren't I wearing my armour! [censored], I should've been prepared! What a great [censored] example! Dammit!

Harry picked up the pace more so as he approached his old, decaying bungalow, and jumped clean over the little picket fence.

Harry's pa, Danny, was already at the door - supported by his shillelagh-like walking stick - when Harry came barging through. "What's going on?" he asked, "what's the hurry? Son, answer me."

"No time... tribals... making their move," Harry explained in-between breaths. "It's going down, Pa. This is it."

"Where's Hutch? Why isn't he with you?"

"He's making his way to the front now; there's no time to spare."

Harry entered the storage room and, after shoving a few boxes out the way, beheld the winterized combat armour displayed on a mannequin. Rosie, apparently catching on to Harry's scent, began to bark excitedly at his feet.

"Easy, girl. Easy," Harry said, gently stroking Rosie's head.

He began to don the worn combat armour. It certainly had seen better days, though the pride swelling inside Harry as he wore his great-grandfather's armour into battle ignited the fire within him - the fire which would fuel him in combat and burn those who dare stand against him. Harry took a deep breath and walked back into the hallway, where his pa was still standing.

"Just look at you," Danny said proudly. "My boy. A fighting man if there ever was one. Lucky you take after old great-grandpa Patton in the height department, eh?" Danny hobbled closer to Harry and pulled his son's head closer to his. "I'm so damn proud of you, sonny. You tell your brother the same, you hear me? You tell him how proud I am of him, and then you send those [censored]ers to hell. Understood?"

"Yes." Harry pulled away and squatted down to Rosie's level, holding her close by the ears. "You look after Pa, okay? Can you do that for me? Yeah? Good girl."

Harry kissed Rosie on the head and stood up straight. There was a brief - almost eerie - silence until Harry into a strong salute, to which Danny replied with his own. Harry then turned and walked out the door, heading towards the tunnel, not looking back to his home - his mind focused only on the mountains dominating Whittier.

[Sophie Miller]

John James Speirs-11:30 AM- Whittier, Market

John was strolling through the market, looking for the stall that sold that delicious caribou steak's Thomas wanted, when he smelt it, the delicious heavenly aroma of those caribou steaks. He followed his nose; he walked in the direction that it was coming from. The smell was getting stronger and stronger as he got closer and closer. His mouth started to water and he closed his eyes for a brief second just to imagine them, those caribou steaks. But his moment of bliss was cut short, a person running fast through the crowded market slammed into him. They both spun and collapsed in a tangle of persons on the cold ground.

“Watch it,” the runner said as he got up. He extended a hand to John and hoisted him up from the ground.

John was about to say something back when the man squinted and gave him a deep look. “Are you John Speirs, from Plainviews Section?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He jumped up and down a little with excitement, his voice got higher as he spoke the excitement coming to him.

“The Tribal’s are coming,” then he hushed himself so the other townsfolk wouldn’t hear and be alarmed, “You are your group are to assemble at the tunnel with the rest of the Section.”

“Thanks,” John said, he grabbed the man by the arm and shoulder, “but don’t ever knock me down again.”

The courier swallowed, and replied “Yes sir.” There was a slight hesitation in his voice, most likely due to the incredible sternness in John’s expression.

“One more thing,” John said, “my men are either at the saloon or the barracks, you tell them to assemble for me?”

“If they were at the saloon they already know, but I’ll make sure to pop by the barracks to tell any other.”

John released his grip on the messenger who dashed off, probably to go find other group leaders, and hopefully alert any of John’s other soldiers. Now his mind flashed back to those steaks, any hope of eating the succulent meat before they were off to duty was shattered. John turned back and headed for home.



John opened the door to his home, “THOMAS!!!” he shouted, closing the door behind him.

Thomas came skipping into the entrance hallway. He stopped midstride and looked John up and down, he pouted and said, “Where are my steaks?”

“No time for that Thomas, we’ve been called to duty. The tribals are approaching; the whole section is massing at the tunnel.”

“Ohh,” he said, “I’ll gather my things and meet you there.”

John nodded before rushing up the stairs and into his room. He started scrambling around picking up his clothes He took his hoodie off to put on an undershirt, and then he put it back on. He fitted his ceramic armor overtop, and then put the ballistic vest over top of that. Finally he slipped his winter jacket on and started gathering his weapons.

He went into his closet and fetched his M14, his 870, his Beretta, and his knife. At this point he heard the door open and close, Thomas was already packed and had left for the tunnel. Charlie grabbed a box of 12 gauge shells and ammo for his rifle and pistol. Finally he picked up his pack, which he had packed previously. It had food, and water. Two essential ingredients for his survival. He slung it over his back along with the shotgun; he slapped his helmet and goggles over his head, and let his bandanna hang loosely around his neck. And with that he was off to the tunnel.

[Alexandra walker]

Andrew Hill
Saloon
11:30-11:40 A.M

“It’s nice to meet you, Jason,” Sam said turning to Andrew. “I’m sure it won’t be too troublesome, but who can tell?”

James chimed in after Sam, “You heard right, I've got them doing extra physical work for now, they're going to need to be at their best.”

“You’re right,” Sam said, but not completely convinced. “But there’s a difference between being your best, and being too run out because of training, to put any of that training to use properly. Just don’t run them too hard, alright? I want all the groups in my Section to be at their best, and I know they will when the time comes, but I won’t have my Group Leaders running their men to exhaustion.”

Andrew was about to talk some more except he was stopped by Jason. He mouthed "Shut up, I want to get the [censored] out of here before he makes us do push-ups." Andrew ignored him and drank more of his Nuka-Cola. He lost more attention to the group while looking at a other group of the militia. They were stareing at Andrew. The [censored] they looking at? Andrew thought. Someone came through and gave Sam a letter. This caught Andrew's attention and he started to listen.

“Christ, is it true?” Sam asked looking to the messenger and Henry. Oh [censored] that doesn't sound good. Something to do with the tribals prehaps? Another attacked patrol? Or maybe the Mayor got off his ass and decided to attack.

"Christ is it true?" Said Sam, looking at the new two people at the table

“Afraid so, sir,” One person said, “From the Mayor himself, to you and the other Section Commanders.”

“It seems our time of preparing for this moment, has run out. The tribals have made their move, and are on their way here as I speak. According to this letter, they’ll be here sooner than any of us would like.” Sam said and paused, “All Group Leaders in my Section, are to gather up their Groups immediately. Don’t get hung up or get stuck on specifics, just gather them up and assemble near the mouth of the tunnel for combat. Remember to bring everything you’ll need, it sounds like this will be the big one we’ve all talked about for awhile.”

"What? [censored]!" Andrew shouted, he looked at the time, it was 11:35 A.M. "Jason let's get moving, the squad will be there in 5 miutnes!" Andrew grabbed Jason and dragged him out the booth. He let go of him once he was on his feet.

"Andrew, I'll say this now, if I die, take care of the rook okay?" Jason said, Andrew turned around.

"What? The [censored] you talking about? You aren't going to die! [censored], don't mention that to me! [censored]." Andrew said before walking out of the saloon, Jason walking behind him. The hell is he talking about? Dieing? No, that can't happen. Jason will not die. Not on my watch. "Take care of the rook?" Hugh doesn't need to be watched, he's a [censored] killing machine. Right? Andrew questioned in his head. He walked towards the General Store. Passing by a messager that bumped into someone. Who, Andrew couldn't tell. He made it to the General Store. His entire squad was gathered there.

"Andrew, what's going on? Why the hell you send the rook to get us?" Jay asked. Andrew looked at him his machine gun was sat up against a crate, polished and ready to fire.

"Hey, I'm not a rook! I've been training all my life!" Hugh said. Andrew was starting to get impatient with the groups remarks.

"SHUT THE [censored] UP!" Andrew shouted, "We need to get our [censored] together and get to the tunnel. The tribals are getting ready to attack, so no [censored] remarks or [censored] with each-other. Okay, this is what we've been waiting for boys, let's get out there and kick some tribal ass!" Andrew got a big "YEAH!" From the group, he lead the group to the tunnel.

"Andrew, if I die..." The line repeated in Andrew's head over and over.

[kasia]

Jonas McCabe
Clinic
11:35 A.M


Jonas was told that there'd been no word from the other sections, and damn did Alice look tired. Jonas thought for a second about recommending she take a half-hour power nap, a trick he learned from a man in Alberta. You could travel for 3 days with only two or three half hour rests. It's a pain in the ass but it saved mine. Bit harder to track, kill, and eat a constantly moving target. Jonas mulled it in his head but before he could make the polite suggestion the clinic owner, a man named Wesley, unlocked the doors as he greeted the assembled loiterers.

Wesley made a funny remark about scaring off his usual customers, Well, there goes that refill... Jonas thought sorrowfully as he shook the near empty bottle of Med-X in his pocket. Alice, Kim, and Henry all went inside the Clinic. Kim had said that Jonas may find Sam down at the Saloon. She was right about people drinking their troubles away, in these times people looked for a way to dull the pain of everyday life. Jonas took pills to ease pain, physical and mental.

Who was he to criticize?

------

11:39 A.M.

Jonas sat in the sun now, leaning against an old dead tree, smokin' a cig and enjoying the cool air. He had a small book in his hands, one the few good books he took with him when he left Cullison. It was a story about 100 soldiers in a place called "Africa", the book detailed about the "Rorke's Drift" battle between the 100 soldiers, armed with primitive rifles, against 5,000 tribal savages called "Zulus". The men won in the end. Jonas took careful note of several things, namely a certain song the soldiers sung. It was called "Men of Harlech".

The young mercenary was startled a bit when a runner came to the clinic. Jonas immediately closed his book and trotted over.

"Jonas McCabe?" The young messenger asked. "Aye? What'd ya got for me."

"Tribals, a whole [censored]-ton of em, sir. They're coming at Whittier, fast. Sam told me to find Alice and the others, tell ya to get to the tunnel entrance. Thought I'd give ya the word, sir. But, where's Alice?" The kid's voice sounded frightened, hell he was literally shaking in his boots. Jonas handed him his cigarette, "Take a drag boy you're doin' fine.... alright, now I need you to go and inform anyone other Group Leaders. Alice is just inside, I'll give 'er the news. Now get goin'!" The messenger nodded and took off down the dusty road.

Jonas didn't take a second or a moment to collect himself, he'd been preparing his team and himself for this very hour, the Defense of Whittier. Checking the M1911 9mm and S&W .357, Jonas was satisfied. In a leap and a bound, he was up the stairs and in the Clinic.

"Alice, we gotta muster our groups for the Section. Sam's called everyone to meet at the wall, get your boys and I'll meet ya there with mine. The Tribes'll be here damn quick so I suggest haste." As Jonas began bounding down the stairs into the gravel streets, he looked shouted back to the Clinic, "You keep safe, Alice!"

------------

11:47 A.M.

Running past the other houses, Jonas could see through the windows and even in the streets, men and women all mustering into their respective groups. Finally, he reached his own house, it looked real worn down in the bright sunlight. Practically bashing through his own door, Jonas startled Ana, the Rifleman of his team. She was also his girlfriend, an ash-blonde beauty in this wasteland.

Jonas kissed her immediately, when he pulled away Ana had a funny, startled look, "Good to see you to, hon... wait, what's going on." She saw the look in Jonas's eyes, "They are coming." Ana immediately began shouting out orders to the top floor of the house, where Sarah, Danny, George, and Kurt all took quarters. Hurried calls came down, the sounds of zippers, buckles snapping, bullets jingling, and firing pins sliding into place filled the house. Jonas went about his own armaments.

Checking the Finnish bolt action, his side-arms, strapping on elbow and knee pads, securing the flak vest across his torso over his green military jacket, wrapping the tan and black shemagh about his shoulders, head, and face. He was ready. Throwing his bug-out-bag over his shoulders, provisions and other assorted yet useful items filling it, Jonas strode out of his house. Ana and the others were waiting, Jonas stood on the stoop, at this moment, he though he should say a few words before the fight.

"Alright, I'll make it clear. We've taken part in skirmishes, ambushes... Well, more than one engagement. I ain't gonna lie though," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, "We won't come out of this the same, and that's if we survive. If you see a tribal, and you got a bullet chambered with a clear shot. Take it. Cause if we don't it could mean another's life. You all know why we were trained, why we're here, and what we're here to do. So lets do it."

There was no boasting, no cheering, only a solemn understanding of the possible fate that was headed their way, right now.

--------------------
11:50 A.M.

As Jonas' group neared the entrance to the tunnel, he began giving orders to George to set up with Danny, heavy machine-gun fire with CQC to back him up, then he instructed Kurt and Sarah to set up. Demolition to cause hell, and a Rifleman to cover the hell-bringer. When Jonas turned to Ana, he noticed a single tear run down her face. Jonas took her gently by the shoulder, looking around to make sure this was kept in private.

"Ana, it's going to..." Jonas' voice trailed off. He wanted, more than anything, to tell his young love that everything would be okay. But he'd be lying, wouldn't he? Jonas looked at her Hazel eyes, hers meeting his dark brown iris'. Then, he looked into her eyes.

"I love you, I don't know how its gonna end. But if it ends for us, I want you to know that." Ana smiled, her eyes welled with tears, she took Jonas' hands in hers and pulled herself closer. "I love you too." The young couple embraced for a minute, then released.

With this, the group all looked to one another. Then, all they had to do now was wait for Sam and the other Groups to show.

[Anna Watts]

John Halsey
Whittier
Saloon
11:30-11:45

John had been sitting with his group at the saloon for roughly five minutes carrying on with the usual bull-[censored]ting from the group "comedian," Gavin. John was about to give his two cents in the subject when, from his vantage point, he could see a man frantically run into the saloon and approach Sam.

"Aww, hell this doesn't look good. Don't get too comfortable, I have a feeling that we just ran out of time, so sit tight I'm gonna go see what I can find out."

John got up from his seat and started to make his way over to where Sam and his group were. As soon as John got close enough Sam started to detail what was in the message. John like everyone else heard clearly what he said but were a little stunned that it was finally being put into action. John hesitated only for a second before running back over to his sqaud and issued orders.

"Alright, you heard the man don't wait for anyone or anything we might be facing an attack by the time we all assemble at the tunnel entrance. Grab every box of ammunition, every clip, and all of your gear and get there as soon as you can, Understood?"

"Yes Sir," all of Johns group chimed in at once.

John was already on the way out of the saloon before his squad had finished responding. As soon as John was out on the street, he realized that most of the town already knew the news, militia members were scrambling around half dressed and fumbling with rifles, and other group leaders were yelling orders up and down the streets. John just continued running towards his shop and home, which was about three blocks away from the saloon.

John almost bashed down his own door in his rush to get to the upstairs portion of his shop where he kept his old suit of pre-war combat armor which he kept in the best condition that he could. John fumbled with the case and began to don his armor trying to think through what was going to happen now that the tribals were finally at their doorstep. John knew that Whittier would lose a lot of good men and women in the coming days or weeks, but the tribals would pay dearly for any of Whittier's citizens they took. John grabbed his rifle, shotgun and their ammo bags and picked up his ax as he raced towards the tunnel.

------------------------

11:45-11:55
Tunnel Entrance

John had made one hell of a long run if full combat gear from his home to the tunnel entrance, where many of the militiamen had already started to gather around the tunnel entrance. There was some idle small talk between group commanders and their groups. John just hoped that the militia men didn't turn tail and run when the tribals made their move. Hopefully by repelling the coming attacks, the Whittier militia would prove its worth and make any attackers think twice about messing with the normally peaceful town. The perpetually cold hellhole that it is..



(OOC- Hopefully this fixes the issue)

[Charleigh Anderson]

Turning her attention towards Jonas as he left, she managed to mutter out,"You too... " in a casual tone before shifting up and looking at Wesley, then back towards the front door. Finally she gazed at Kim, who was still sitting down casual like as though nothing happened. He was still - to her annoyance - tapping his foot.

"Shouldn't we... go?"

"Henry gots this... he better get his a$$ in a hurry." Alice turned towards Wesley, dipped her head some what and walked out, not traveling far.

Remaining outside the gate, she turned her head towards the direction in which Henry was, her eyes alighted as she saw he to be only with Jerome. Kim's attention too was caught, ensnared, as the two somewhat mature and matured figure approached. Alice's green eyes where reflective against the sun, and with the glare she got she slightly squinted. Kim, was a bit more smart and positioned his angle facing away from the sun. As Jerome approached, he was already in his armor, steel armor.. and it only made Alice's eyes hurt ever more. She was already pretty much in her armor, though it was leather, and had fur to look a bit more civilized it still had the same income. Jerome stopped, and stared at Alice, for his sake, his drunkness didn't concern her right now...

"Where is Kill- SIENTO!" Alice said, tripping on her words.

"He left last night... " Jerome muttered under breath, looking down towards his feet.

"Jerome.What.The.Hell.Happened?"

"We got drunk.. he went out with a bunch of his.. friends... God knows where they're at now... "

Alice's hand crumbled into a fist, as she paced a bit, a typically easy laid back person she was.. usually.. today she felt different. Startled. She turned towards Henry, his relatively un-mature chest, smaller then his older brother's, you could tell it was thumping with a rash beat. His eyes seemed to dart between foot and foot, his hand was in a fist, his nails digging into his own palm. Silently, she began to lead the in-time four member group towards the front line, along the way she picked up a large rock, below it contained their weapons.. it was convenient that she made it along the path they took towards the front lines.

"We don't have time to search for him... " She said sharply, as she grabbed her .308 rounds, and let Kim get his .50, as she took a mental note, she began the path to an uncertain future, but she supposed war was always uncertain and a gamble.. and just like a gamble, once you win, your ensnared in it's addictive range.

[Noraima Vega]

Andrew Hill
Beginning of Tunnel
12:00 P.M

"Andrew, if I die..." The line repeated as Andrew was going to see his the rest of his Section in the Miltia. His squad was gathered around him awaiting orders from him or the Section Commander. Andrew turned around and talked to Jason. Andrew needed to make sure Jason wasn't going to try taking all the tribals out by himself, by using himself as a grenade. Jason stood there, holding out his rifle and his grenade holster rest on his waist.

"Hey, Andrew, when do you think were going to get in position? I'm getting bored." Jason said while still checking his rifle. Andrew guessed Jason was maing sure it wouldn't jam.

"Soon, Jason. Look, I need you to promise me something." Andrew said with a grim look on his face.

"Yeah, what is it Andrew? Hey, if this is about what I said eariler don't worry about it. It was in the heat of the moment." Jason said while looking up at Andrew.

"Jason..." Andrew started to say, Jason cut him off.

"Andrew, don't worry about it. The squad will get through this and then the drinks are on me afterwards." Jason said while forming a grin on his face.

"Alright. But remember this, the drinks are on you afterwards!" Andrew said while grinning and walking away. He walked over to Jay and said, "Jay, keep a eye on Jason. When we do get into postion to fight the tribals, make sure he doesn't die. If he does, I'm kicking your ass. Got it?" Andrew said with the most serious look he could ever have. Jay nodded and went back to talking to Dalton. Andrew walked past all of the sections and stood, his back facing the tunnel. "Whittier, you [censored] cold ass [censored]."

[jessica sonny]

[Deleted.]

[Charlie Sarson]

His legs beginning to ache, Harry began to sprint up the trail leading to the tunnel. Over his own laboured breathing, he could hear militia mobilising above him, though he couldn't see it through the trees. All right, looks like I got here in good time, Harry thought as he slowed down to a jog, hoping to conserve a little energy.

It wasn't long before Harry reached the mouth of the tunnel. The various groups were scattered about the area, all preparing for the battle; cleaning and chambering weapons, donning bandoliers, stocking up on performance-enhancers and discussing potential battle formations. Discrepancy, however, could be found in the composure of each militiaman. While some were poised and steely in their mien, others were clearly terrified - visibly shaking their boots, fidgeting, spouting pessimistic nonsense, and some vomiting behind the bushes. One oddly jovial fellow was the 6'7'', 270 pound monster strutting his way over to Harry.

Ah, good to see Paul made it, Harry thought with a smile. We're going to need his strength. He can mow down those tribal bastards like there ain't no [censored] tomorrow.

"Hey, hon! May I just say that you're looking positively fantabulous!" the enormous Paul said in a bubbly, though incredibly low, voice.

"Uh... thanks," Harry replied. "How's Leon been? I understand you've been staying at the barracks with him.

"Oh, yes, him. He's been a moody moo... as usual. He's a total drag. Doesn't even speak."

"Yeah, well, don't let him hear you say that. The kid's damn near suicidal and doesn't need anything else knocking him down. Sure doesn't help that his pa becomes more of an ass every day."

"My lips are sealed, hon."

"Good. C'mon, let's go join the team."

I'll never get this guy. Paul was, without doubt, the most peculiar and perplexing man Harry had ever met. They had become acquainted a while back as caravan guards and became fast friends. Paul was not native to Whittier, but he had been granted citizenship and purchased a residence years ago. Although generally passive, he was an entirely different person in combat - ruthless, brutal, animalistic being apt epithets. Harry couldn't comprehend Paul, and wasn't sure he'd ever be able to. He always was elusive about his past... hmm.

Harry and Paul made their way over to the group. Hutch, Bob and Alice were standing around and chatting as they prepped for the battle. Leon, however, was sat on the ground, slumped, head down and idly playing with the soil. Harry approached him first.

"L-Man!" Harry greeted Leon, offering the kid a hand. Leon took it and stood up. Harry wrapped his arm around Leon's shoulders supportively. "How've you been? Training hard? Bet you're a [censored] dead-eye by now, eh?"

"Yeah... yeah, it's going good. Thanks," Leon said mirthlessly.

"That's my man. Those tribals are gonna be droppin' like flies."

Harry patted Leon on the shoulder and retracted his arm. He couldn't help but feel he was patronising the poor boy, but wasn't quite sure what else to do. Harry had known Leon - now 20 years old - since he was a kid and saw him as his second little brother, yet he had never seen him as down as this. Harry always attributed Leon's quasi-depression to the boy's father, a man much like Harry's pa: rough, pugnacious and demanding, especially of his children. Unlike Harry (and Hutch, to a lesser extent), though, Leon did not respond well to the discipline and martial parenting of his father. The boy's confidence was damaged and he was insecure, so, despite his good looks, did not make many friends or have much success with women. It's obvious the poor kid was pressured into joining this damn war. He shouldn't be here, but what can I do about it? As long as he is here, I'm gonna make damn sure he's safe. He will not come to harm.

Keeping that thought in mind, Harry addressed his group. "All right, you all seem ready to go. But stay frosty, even here. Plainview seemed pretty taken back by whatever was in that letter. Who knows what those tribals are gonna try? I'm confident we'll be able to match what they throw at us, don't get me wrong, just we can't afford to be taken by surprise."

The group nodded before Bob spoke up. "Where is Plainview, anyway? 'Bout time he got his ass up here."

"Not sure, but he's who we're waiting on. Him and the other section commanders."

"Well, in the meantime, how about some cards?" Bob pulled out a deck from a small knapsack.

"Sure, sounds good," Harry said. In truth, he wanted to remain focused on the battle, but realised it may be advantageous to keep his team at ease.

The group played cards, waiting for Section Commander Plainview to arrive. Harry's eyes were always concentrated on the mountains and the trail leading to the tunnel's entrance.

[Lexy Dick]

John James Speirs

John came round through the town into the mouth of the tunnel, Thomas was there, his Scope Hunting Rifle with its stock to the ground, and he was using it like a walking stick. Thomas smiled at John as he approached. There were a number of people, a number of squads gathered round the opening of the tunnel. Some were openly nervous others faces were blank; John knew they were still nervous. He himself was surprised to find his own stomach tied into knots as well. He didn’t want to show it though; he didn’t want to let Thomas down.

“It’s just like hunting Caribou,” Thomas said as John stopped in front of him.

John ignored the comment and started turning in the spot, he was looking around, for familiar faces, he was looking for his squad members. He didn’t see any one from his unit; he was upset now, because his entire squad was late. He was about to turn round when someone jumped on his back, he went down on one knee and flipped the person off and onto his back. He raised his fist and was about to deliver a hefty blow, but he stopped, he recognised the kid on his back, Abe Richards, a 16 year old, who had joined up in the militia.

“Ow, [censored], Ow [censored],” Abe repeated as he rolled around rubbing his back.

John heard Thomas’ voice, “I told him to do that, prove to you that the training actually helps.”

Before John could say anything back Abe started talking, “See Mr.Speirs, I can fight, it’s true, I’m excited it’s the real thing ya’ know.” John pulled the boy to his feet:

“Give it a few day’s and you won’t be so excited, gather your stuff and meet us back here.”

“Yes sir!” Abe said before scurrying off and coming back with a pack.

Next to arrive was Markus Fox, the team’s Medic; he was dressed in basically civilian attire, just like John, except for the ballistic vest and combat helmet. He had a pack on his back, which John assumed was filled with Medical Supplies and ammo. In his hand was an AR-15. He nodded to the group as he approached, and eh just stood there:
“Hi.”

The group immediately responded with their own greeting’s but his somber mood quieted the group down. The final two members of the group arrived Jeff Baron and Louise Segel. Jeff’s mood exactly like Markus’, but Louise told everyone she was ready to kick some ass.

“So we’re all ready then?” John asked.

The group’s response was a mixture of sad nervous yesses, and a few responses full of bravado.

“Now we just have to wait for Plainview to give the order.”

[Eduardo Rosas]

Samuel Plainview
Plainview Manor
11:35AM - 12:10PM

The quiet house was suddenly thrown into chaos, as Sam burst through the door and hurried right for his room. Everything he’d need for the battle ahead, rested in his room, and he knew exactly where everything was. Quickly, he changed into his olive drab colored, reinforced combat armor, and grabbed some ammo for his ammo pouches. From a window, Sam could just barely make out some commotion that was going on at the militia’s base and gun range. It seemed Tweed had gotten the news, and was already moving out what remained of his Section, through to the tunnel, and to the forward defenses.

The sight only hastened Sam, as he gathered up the rest of his weapons and supplies, grabbing his helmet last before rushing back out to the tunnel. His heart raced, and his mind was focused like never before, as he made his way back into town towards the tunnel.

“Sir!” Henry said rushing over to him. Ida, Margaret, James, and Eugene all followed behind with their weapons at the ready.

“I thought I told you to meet me at the tunnel with the rest of the Section!” Sam shouted coming up to them.

“Yes sir,” Henry said without much care, “but Section Commander Tweed told me to give you this letter?”

Sam sighed and nearly tore it from Henry’s hand as he rushed to read it. The letter was no more than a notice about the plan of attack, and how the militia would form on the defenses. Sam nodded his thanks to Henry, before rushing off with his Group to the rest of the Section.

~*~

As he approached, there along the side of the road at the mouth of the tunnel, was his Section. Each Group Leader standing alone in front of their Groups, just as they had been taught and trained to do for inspection, and preparation to march.

“Listen up!” Sam said slowing down to catch his breath. The entire Section turned their attention on him, as he stood before them. “You all know the Tribals are coming, so I’m not going to waste our time explaining that, but what you need to know is, this army isn’t just a few war parties of tribals coming to stir-up some trouble for us. They’ve been doing that enough with our long patrols. This force coming down on us, is the entire warrior sect of each of these tribes.”

Sam paused to catch his breath, and also let the Section soak it in. “They’re set on wiping us out, and Whittier all together today, but we’re not going to let them do that, so we’ve been given the duty to defend Whittier and everyone in it. If you see a break in the line, plug it up quick with yourself or a couple of your men. We’ve been tasked with defending the center of the defensive line, so that means we’re going to probably get the brunt of what the tribals have to throw at us. Just keep as cool of a head as you can, and if you see any holes, plug them up quick as you can.”

Sam gave a swift salute to the Section, and started off into the tunnel, his own Group taking point for the Section as always. As they marched in file through the tunnel, the sound of their boots hitting the ground echoed loudly, as if there were 10x as many militia members coming to meet the tribal hordes. But Sam could only wish they had that many more to help defend the town.

~*~

As they marched, and finally came to the end of the long dark tunnel, and the sunlight once again hit their eyes, there before them all, was the sight of the long defensive wall they called the frontline of defense. It was rather a large wall, but not in height, in height it was just a little taller than an average man, but in length it was quite big. It reached out in a large wide “C” shape, with the far left side of the wall facing the old lake. Tweed’s Section had been given that part of the wall, seeing how they were down the weakest. Randolph’s Section had taken the right side, leaving the center just for Sam and his Section.

“Alright everyone, take your positions along the wall and make it quick! Setup your machine-guns at even intervals between one another!” Sam ordered his Group Leaders, rushing himself to the wall for a position.

Along the wall, Sam could see Tweed and Randolph ordering their Group Leaders around, and preparing for one last time, to setup. Sam just watched, as his Group Leaders did as they were told, setting their machine-gunners evenly apart from one another, but just enough that it gave the machine-gunners a space to their life and their right, to share some field of fire on.

Quickly, Sam grabbed his binoculars and searched for any sight of the tribal hordes, the land before them seemed empty of any life except for a couple of grazing caribou, and the animals didn’t seem too nervous.

“Damn, where are they?” Sam muttered to himself, still looking through his binoculars. “Keep your eyes open everyone.”

As he stood there, still looking, some time passed and still there was no sign of the tribals. Not a single confirmed sighting had been called out anywhere along the line. Sam was starting to get nervous, but he still felt confident in those around him, to succeed and win out in the end. Or so he hoped.

He continued to watch as the caribou continued to graze, another pair of the wild animals quietly walking over to graze on the empty land as well. It seemed the militia was a lot quicker in mobilizing, than anyone had expected, but it could have been that Sam and his section were just the final piece to the militia being fully mobilized, that it didn’t seem to take so long. His mind wandered a bit on that thought, the caribou still standing around grazing together, not perking up or seemingly nervous or frightened away by anything nearby or coming. But Sam knew it was no time to relax, even for a moment, so continued to survey the land before them, watching ever vigilantly for the sight or signal of the coming tribal hordes.

[kelly thomson]

James Matthews - The Saloon - 11.30

“It seems our time of preparing for this moment, has run out. The tribals have made their move, and are on their way here as I speak. According to this letter, they’ll be here sooner than any of us would like.” The message hit home hard. They're coming, it's time to fight, again.

“All Group Leaders in my Section, are to gather up their Groups immediately. Don’t get hung up or get stuck on specifics, just gather them up and assemble near the mouth of the tunnel for combat. Remember to bring everything you’ll need, it sounds like this will be the big one we’ve all talked about for awhile.” James didn't waste any time going to find his group.

He ran to the center of town where he'd left them, but they'd already gone. Crap, Damn, [censored]. A small boy was stood alone in the square, "Boy! Have you seen a group of militia around here? There's some caps in it for you."

"They went jogging of that way sir." the kid mumbled into the ground. James pulled out a small handful of caps and threw them in the direction of the boy as he ran off.

It took him longer than he'd expected to catch up with the group and he was already running late when he found them. "Stop!" He yelled after them, the group instantly stopped and turned to face him "We've got out orders, to the tunnels double time."

*****

They got to the tunnel just before the commander started addressing the assembled groups. He stood in the ready position alone in front of his group, who were all slightly red faced after their brisk jog. “Listen up!” James snapped his attention to the commander “You all know the Tribals are coming, so I’m not going to waste our time explaining that, but what you need to know is, this army isn’t just a few war parties of tribals coming to stir-up some trouble for us. They’ve been doing that enough with our long patrols. This force coming down on us, is the entire warrior sect of each of these tribes.”

“They’re set on wiping us out, and Whittier all together today, but we’re not going to let them do that, so we’ve been given the duty to defend Whittier and everyone in it. If you see a break in the line, plug it up quick with yourself or a couple of your men. We’ve been tasked with defending the center of the defensive line, so that means we’re going to probably get the brunt of what the tribals have to throw at us. Just keep as cool of a head as you can, and if you see any holes, plug them up quick as you can.” The commander turned and led them off into the tunnel. James maneuvered his own group into position second in the march behind the commanders own.

*****

The sunlight hurt his eyes as they found their way out into the opening. The wall stretched out in front of them a wide c but not a particularly high one. It should be higher, with a trench in front and a line of stakes in front of those. They'd been given the center ground and they intended to hold it.

“Alright everyone, take your positions along the wall and make it quick! Setup your machine-guns at even intervals between one another!” The commander's voice came across clear cutting through the silence. James led his own company to the wall, to the right of the commanders position. Somewhere he would be able to hear any orders given and have good view of the field ahead of them.

They set themselves into position as the commander had ordered. Jess lay flat on the wall staring down the sight of her Sniper Rifle. The wind blew lazily through her long blonde hair making it sway slightly in the breeze. He'd liked her since the moment he'd first met her, she'd been as bright and happy then as she was now. She was always smiling and it suited her, a face like hers was made for smiling. He loved her smile, it lit up her bright blue eyes making them sparkle. Man up, you've had plenty of women in your time, why is she any different.

But as he looked at her now he knew the answer, he loved her. I love her and I'm going to let her fight? She should be somewhere safe.

“Damn, where are they?” The commander was muttering to himself but James was just close enough to hear. “Keep your eyes open everyone.”

"Jess can you see anything?" The scope on her sniper was easily as good as or better than any pair of bino's.

"No James, not a thing." her voice was light and carefree. James lay down next to her.

"Let me see." She leant close to him to let him see down the scope and for a moment he caught her scent, it was intoxicating. He looked down the scope, she was right it was still out there except for the caribou milling around in the distance. He leant away, "You're right." She looked straight at him, he big blue eyes wide open. It was all he could do not to kiss her right there. No, I'm her leader not her lover. For now at least I have to hold my tongue. He ruffled her golden curls. "Stay safe kiddo."

"Sir if you don't mind me saying, this stinks," he stood back up "Nothings moving out there, the Caribou should be spooked at least."

[Emily abigail Villarreal]

[Murr, deleted.]

[Dustin Brown]

[Reserved for later post in the morning, won't be to long.]

[Julie Ann]

Andrew Hill
Tunnel Area
12:10 A.M

Andrew turned around to see Sam telling everyone to get ready. He didn't hear Sam clearly except for the order to get set up. Andrew took a deep breath and pulled out his Assault Carbine. His squad was gathered nearby, all carrying their weapons with nervousness. "[censored], I'm not going to have a good day." Andrew remarked to himself. He felt the tension in the air and stopped walking, he reached his squad and they all looked at him. "Alright, today is the day we kick those Tribals back to their huts! Today is the day we stop these Tribals in their tracks! Today is the day we kick some ass!" Andrew shouted while getting a resounding "Hell Yeah!" from his squad. "Okay, Jay, set up with the other machine gunners at the month of the tunnel. Nick set up behind that wall over there." Andrew pointed towards a wooden wall. Nick nodded. "Alright, Hugh, Dalton, and me will set up at those three walls." Andrew pointed ahead, "Jason, you just be ready, I want you to set up next to me. Make sure to be ready to fire, blowing up the tunnel is a last resort. You hear me? Blowing up the tunnel is a last resort." His squad nodded and ran off to get to there assignments.

"Andrew, it's been a great time fighting with you." Jason said, Andrew looked at him.

"Dude, stop with the suicide [censored]. I'm not going to let you die, and [censored] I don't know how I handle life without your humor you [censored] comedian." Andrew said before smiling and seeing Jason smile.

"Ok, okay. Let's get set up and get this over with." Jason said before turning around. Andrew straightened out his back and walked towards his four person set up. He set up against the wall while sightly peering over the wall.

"Where the [censored] are they?" Andrew said to himself.

[Aaron Clark]

As Harry had kept a diligent vigil on the trail leading to the tunnel entrance, he was quick to alert his group when Plainview came into sight.

"All right, guys," he said, "looks like this is it. Make last minute preparations now and be ready to move out."

They all stood up from their positions, leaving their cards and food as they were. Hutch, Bob, Alice, Paul and Leon took position, standing upright, behind Harry when Plainview arrived and gave his short speech.

Apt words, Harry thought as Plainview addressed the section. From what Harry knew of Plainview, he appeared, for the most part, driven and focused. Certainly doesn't sugar coat anything. Harry added a few cheers to those erupting from the crowd, just to boost morale a little, even if he wasn't typically in to such behaviour.

After a salute from Plainview - to which Harry returned his own - the section marched into the tunnel. Harry took one last look behind him to Whittier and its glistening bay. Could be the last time I lay my eyes on her. Though Harry tended to suppress his sentiments, he found it exceedingly difficult to do so in this case, and it took considerable effort to restrain a tear. If I don't remain focused, there's even less chance of me seeing home again. Mentally prepping himself, Harry took a deep breath and stepped into the tunnel, not looking back.

"We cross the Rubicon now, my friends," Harry announced to his group behind him, hoping that his voice would keep them at ease, no matter the gravity of his words.

"You've been waiting to use that one haven't you?" Hutch said. "What the hell is a 'Rubicon', anyway?"

Harry chuckled, "Not the foggiest. I think I heard Pa say it once. Sounded pretty cool, I thought."

Hutch didn't reply. Harry knew his brother was nervous. Sure, he always carried an air of conceitedness about him, but his voice was shaky and Harry could feel him walking closer behind him.

Harry began to feel slightly nervous as the section continued its march. The tunnel was armed to death with explosives and Harry wondered what tiny thing could trigger them all at once - blowing the section to oblivion. Not wanting to dwell on the thought, Harry shook it off and strode purposefully onwards.

The section marched through the tunnel - the only light source being the mounted braziers every 25 yards or so - a little longer before the resounding thud of boots on gravel began to cease. Harry shielded his eyes from the sunlight as he exited the tunnel and came upon the defensive wall. He noted how the wall was a crescent shape, with Tweed and Randolph's sections (arguably weaker than Plainview's) taking position at position at the flanks. Let's just hope the tribals' skirmishers don't overwhelm the other two sections. If they do, we'll be enveloped and royally [censored].

At Plainview's command, the groups took positions. The sight of the defensive wall stretching all the way to the lake and the rifles aiming toward the horizon over the plains was one Harry would not soon forget. This is it. This is the day we crush barbarism, or the day we fall and become irrevocably forgotten in history.

For a long time the militia kept its weapons trained on the hills. Nothing. Only caribou grazing and birds chirping. It was eerily quiet. Harry looked at Alice, who was peering down the scope of her hunting rifle. No tells on her expression. He looked over to Plainview as he peered down his binoculars. Nothing on him, either. What the hell is going on? This can't be right. But what could those mindless savages be planning? I can't imagine they'd play us - definitely don't have the capacity for that. Harry just sighed and remained steely and vigilant.

"Those damn caribou are looking mighty tasty, right about now," Bob said, gathering a few light laughs from those beside him."

"Yeah," Hutch added, "I think a little hunting expedition would go down nicely."

"Focus, boys," Harry said sternly.

Harry briefly glanced down at Leon, who was positioned next to him. The kid appeared sunken, as always, though not necessarily frightened. Hope he's holding up all right. I feel bad for him even being here.

The proverbial calm before the storm became increasingly painful to bear. Any moment Harry expected to see Leon fall down, only to turn and see hordes of tribals pouring down from the mountain, descending upon the militia with overwhelming force. No. Nothing like that. This day is ours. Harry took a small sip from his canteen as the wait prolonged.

[Dale Johnson]

John James Speirs


“This plan is [censored], it’s straight from the [censored] mayor’s office and he doesn’t know [censored]!” Louise shouted at the squad. The whole team, except for John was huddled around a section of wall right beside the M60 machine gun Jeff had set up. James was perched fifteen feet away sitting on the top of a small hill. He was lying down enjoying the cool breeze that was rushing across him.

She continued, “They couldn’t possibly think the tribals would just march through no man’s land and try to run us down. And I mean what happens if they lob grenades or have like a mortar what then huh?”

The whole group made a few exclamations of agreement; John himself even knew he thought it was a strange plan, but not a bad one, just not what he was used too. He would rather be down in the bush, it was his home before he settled in Whittier, but the brass had different plans. The breeze rushed over him again, cooling his nerves. He was nervous he knew his entire group was nervous. Especially Louise, it was the only possible explanation for her attitude. She continued ranting about the terrible plan while John sat up, arms round his knees connected in the middle. Looking out at the field, in it was a small herd of caribou, and they went on, just munching the grass, without a care in the world. He almost wanted to be caribou then, then he wouldn’t be feeling the problems man felt, he wouldn’t hate the tribals for attacking Whittier, for destroying his village. He smiled at that moment, he realised being a caribou would be the greatest existence in the world. But his sudden realisation to the mysteries of life was cut short when he spotted movement in the field. He picked up his rifle and aimed from a sitting position.

“Boss what is it?” Thomas asked, snatching his own binoculars and clambering up to John’s position. Louise and Jeff manned the MG and Markus started readying the other weapons. Through his cope he spotted them, a few little brown furred Coyotes sneaking through tall grass to a baby caribou.

“It’s just a couple of Coyotes.”

He couldn’t help but keep watching, they stalked up on their prey closer and closer, the caribou should have noticed, by all reason it was in a better position, then he stopped watching, he put his rifle down.

I don’t want to be a caribou.

[Je suis]

Malcolm Ashworth
Ashworth Salvage & Trade
11:45 A.M

Malcolm stood quietly in the cluttered back room of his store watching over one of his associates who was diligently working to construct some sort of explosive projectile.

"Malcolm can you pass me that jar of gunpowder in the corner?", he asked as he continued to tinker.

Malcolm wordlessly walks across the dimly lit room to collect the container which he carries over. The tall, greasy, and dirt covered man smiles wryly as he takes the jar from Malcolm. "Excellent, now could you check that third cabinet in the corner and bring me a bag of nails, a fuse, and a roll of duct tape."

Malcolm frowned at his friend but complied with the request. "I don't even know how you manage to keep up with anything in all this chaos.", he states matter of frankly while he rummages through the tool cabinet.

The man lets out a hoarse cackle as he opens the container of gunpowder and begins to spoon some of the explosive material into a tin can. "I may be a bit scatterbrained but I know where all my important tools are."

Malcolm scoffs at his friend's remark. "Sure whatever you say, Aaron."

Malcolm has to search every cabinet and desk in the room before he is able to locate the needed components. He tosses the items onto the workbench and then stands back to oversee the madman's work.

"So, what exactly are you making, Aaron?"

"A fortune.”, he chuckles. I’m designing a cheap easily produced explosive. As you know grenades and other explosive ordinance are hard to find, so by designing an inexpensive alternative I'll be heralded as a genius and make quite a few caps in the process."

“Just be careful that you don't blow up my shop with your insane invention."

"You have nothing to fear Malcolm my work is one-hundred percent safe."

"Yes, I'm sure that's why the council was prepared to exile you after that last incident, had it not been for my intervention."

"Humph! Those blackguards got all bent out of shape over a slight miscalculation with some volatile chemicals. Believe me it was an honest mistake."

"A 'slight miscalculation' you almost destroyed an entire section of homes."

"I already said it was a mistake, what else could you possibly want from me!?"

"A guarantee that my business won’t be burned to the ground would be nice.

Ian grunts angrily and tunes out any further comments from Malcolm as he refocuses his attention on his work. Malcolm was prepared to continue his rant at Ian but the sound of an impassioned screaming match up front drew his attention away. Stepping out of the backroom he witnessed an angry customer hollering a string of curses at John "Priest" Holmes, Malcolm's second-in-command. Malcolm trying to get to the bottom of the situation began furiously clapping his hands together to get the disgruntled patron's attention.

"Excuse me, sir. As the proprietor of this establishment I will do whatever I can to remedy the situation which has clearly left you quite displeased. So, what seems to be the trouble?", Malcolm asks with a bow.

"I bought a fission battery here three days ago and its charge is already gone. I demand a refund!", the man raged.

Priest Holmes clears his throat as he points to a sign behind him which clearly reads, "No Refunds."

"I don't care. I spent good caps for a battery that didn’t even last a whole week!”

Malcolm began stroking his goatee as he tried to puzzle out a solution to the dilemma before him. “Sir, I’m afraid I won’t be able to reimburse you as store policy dictates. However as a show of good faith I will provide you with another fission battery free of charge. How does that sound?”

The man agonizingly mulls the decision over for some time before finally agreeing to Malcolm’s deal.

Malcolm disappears into the backroom for several minutes before emerging with another fission battery which he hands over to the patron. The man gives his thanks and quickly departs from the store.

Once the man is gone is Priest gives Malcolm a questioning look. “What the hell was that all about Malcolm!? I’ve never seen you go so far out of your way to satisfy a customer before today, why the change?”

“Simple. That was Roland Quimby a respected and well regarded member of the community. Earning his scorn could have potentially destroyed this business.”
“I…see. Though I wonder what’s to stop other customers from attempting to pull what Quimby did.”

Malcolm lazily shrugged his shoulders. “I won’t make the same deal again. It was a onetime offer to keep this place afloat, nothing more.”

“We’ll see now won’t-”

I t was then that a slender young man with a bag over his shoulder burst into the store with a perturbed look on his face. He immediately honed in on Malcolm and rushed over.

“Malcolm Ashworth!?”

Malcolm gave the youngster a slight nod.

“Section Commander Plainview has ordered all Group Leaders to gather their respective squads and meet at the mouth of the tunnel to repel the invading tribals.”

Malcolm cupped his hand over his mouth to keep from uttering a string of curses. Once he composed himself he tried to speak calmly to the messenger. “Is that the whole message, lad?”

“Yes, sir.”, the boy replied with a vigorous nod of his head.

“Alright, then be on your way.”

The messenger quickly spun on his heels and bolted from the store. Malcolm began barking orders the instant the young man was gone.

“Priest I need you to find Mr. Wolfe, Mr. Reed, and Mr. Byrd.”

“I’ll get right on it.”, Priest responded as he headed out the door.

Malcolm heads into the back and orders Andrew Quarless to get battle ready. He then unlocks the door to his room to get his gear. He hurriedly grabs his trench coat from the bed, the bandolier hanging from one of the bed posts, and collects his sawed off and carbine from the antique wooden strongbox at the foot of the bed. After equipping his gear he locks the door to his room and the shop respectively before tearing off towards the tunnel.

Malcolm was the first member of his section in line but he didn’t have to wait long for the rest of his group to fall in line. They all listened intently as Samuel spoke rather frankly of the coming battle. The Section Commander then led his troops through the tunnel and out to the wall to setup for the ensuing battle. Group Leaders were then tasked with finding a spot on the wall for their squad to setup.

Malcolm looked over the wall and found a perfect place for Reed to setup his gun emplacement. While Reed busied himself with his weapon, Wolfe set down the pair of ammo boxes he had been lugging around. Quarless had brought his improved explosive and seemed to be making some last minute adjustments. Byrd sat tinkering with the scope of his hunting rifle while humming a tune. Priest scanned the hills with a pair of binoculars but the only movement came from a herd of grazing caribou. Malcolm sat back overseeing his squad, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

“See anything, Priest?”, Malcolm inquired as a plume of smoke escaped his lips.

Priest shook his head. “Nothing save for some grazing caribou.”

Malcolm took a long drag from his cigarette. “Where the hell are those tribals.”, he mused. "You'd think we'd see their dirty horde on the move. I don't like this."

His squad murmured in agreement. Malcolm now uneasy slung his carbine into his hands and began vigorously scanning the surrounding hills for any sign of the tribal invasion force.

[Elisabete Gaspar]

Samuel Plainview
Wall of Whittier
12:20PM - 12:50PM

As the minutes passed by, and militia began to wonder exactly where the tribal horde was, Sam took a moment to look at all that was before him. The sky was brighter blue than it had ever been before to him, and the clouds that formed were big billowy ones that slowly floated overhead. The sun was out, shinning brighter than ever, but it was cold and a slight breeze of frozen air blew off the lake nearby. It all seemed a bit unreal to Sam, as he and the other waited for the coming storm that would either take them or be stopped there at the Wall of Whittier.

The tension of the militia was great, Sam could see in his Group, and the rest of his Section, the nervousness that some of the militiamen felt as they waited. Boredom had also set in, with everyone wondering where the tribal hordes were, and when they were supposed to make their appearance. Everyone knew the message from the Mayor, had been urgent, they knew the tribals were expected to be coming soon, but as the minutes passed and the boredom got greater, they all began to wonder if it was nothing more than a test to challenge them.

“[censored],” Sam muttered to himself quietly, “where the hell are they? They have to be here soon?”

A minute passed, and Sam quickly ate his words, as suddenly from up ahead, he spotted something with his binoculars. From out of the dead forest ahead, Sam spotted a lone figure come walking out.

“CONTACT!” Sam shouted through the silence of the militia, pointing in the direction of the closing figure. He peered through his binoculars again, and saw it was a man, but not any man, it was in fact a man from one of the many tribal clans who’d come to destroy Whittier and the people living in it.

Suddenly the boredom of time passing, seemed to just melt away as the tension in the militia grew to even greater discomfort. Everyone readied their weapons as Sam and the others peered out to see what he would do next, and if there was anyone behind him.

By his looks, the man seemed fierce and unforgiving. Like most tribals, he was painted somewhat, and tattooed with different symbols and styles, signifying various things about him, within his tribe. The man slowly came forward out of the tree line, and stopped halfway between the Wall of Whittier and the tree line. To Sam’s surprise, and the militia’s, he began to jump around hissing and howling, as he did what looked to be some kind of tribal war dance; probably meant to be used a psychological warfare, and put fear into the hearts of their opponent. He twirled his spear, banging it against his meager-made shield, and twisting around with kicks, almost as if he was showing through the little performance, how he would kill a militia member.

After a bit, the tribal finished his performance with some taunting jabs with his spear, and leaps forward and backward, as if to draw some militia members out from the wall. But they all knew better, and watched as he disappeared once again, into the tree line.

“Stand ready!” Sam ordered his Section, “they’re here!”

His words were quickly followed by the loud echoing noise of chants and howls. Slowly and together in a thick long line, several war parties appeared from the tree line. Armed with an assortment of weapons, but mostly primitive spears, makeshift swords, and small shields, their numbers eased Sam a bit as he saw there were only about eight war parties in total, each with twelve to a party. He was glad the entire horde of tribals hadn’t come all at once.

When they were clear from the tree line, they stood together in strength, banging their weapons against their shields, and raising up their terribly worn rifles above their heads as they chanted and shouted in one loud mix of noise. From their markings, Sam could tell they weren’t all from the same tribe. Half were from one tribe, while the others were from a different tribe entirely. But it didn’t matter, they had put aside their differences all for this one defining moment.

One half of the tribals, armed with a mixture of primitive and modern weapons, had black paint on them, as well as scars and burns on them, that looked like they had been purposely put there, each of them meant to symbolize and show various things within their tribe. Their sight surely proved their point of being fierce and dangerous, as they got louder and louder with the other tribal parties beside them.

The other half of the tribals, were painted all up in black, yellow, and spots of red around their body. Their designs were very extravagant, and unique to each different warrior, yet their designs all gave the impression of being fierce and menacing, just like their brothers beside them.

Each one of the tribals, no matter which tribe they were apart of, was just ready to be released onto the Wall of Whittier, and the Whittier Militia. You could hear it in the booming sound of their mixed chanting and shouting, the banging of their shield and weapon. Everything about them gave an uneasy feeling to the Militia, that they were ready to spill blood and burn the town down without a second hesitation.

Sam looked at his Group and the Section, noticing that they all had to realize this was nothing more than a taste, a simple example of how fearsome and ready the tribals were. Sam himself, was a bit unnerved by the sight, not quite ready to die like the rest of them.

“Hold you ground,” he said to the Section nervously. “Remember to plug any holes you see, and most of all . . . don’t turn your back on them. Kill all that stand before you, before they kill you.”

He turned his attention back to the chanting and howling tribals, double checking the chamber of his rifle, as he could taste the coming battle in his mouth. It tasted horrible.

[Lillian Cawfield]

John James Speirs


“CONTACT!!” John heard in the distance. Then it made its way down the line every squad started shouting that one word. The group rushed down to the wall Jeff and Louise were on the M60 in a flash. Thomas readied his rifle and came down to the wall with the other two members of his squad. John sat perched upon the hill, he took his cope off his rifle and used it like a telescope, he sighted in on the lone tribal standing amongst the trees.

John followed him with the scope as he started to approach the wall of Whittier. Halfway there he did the unthinkable, with a hundred or more guns trained on his ass, the bastard started dancing.

“What the [censored]!” John shouted. His whole squad except for Thomas looked back round at him for a moment but quickly they went back to the tattooed, dancing tribal.

‘It’s what we do,” said Thomas.

“Yeah, yeah different culture and all that, yeah you were a tribal before settling in town with my parents I forgot, I meant no disrespect.”

Louise interjected before the pair could continue on. “What the [censored] do you mean “we do”, are you saying he’s is a dirty tribal. Huh,” she chuckled ever so slightly at the end. And at that moment John gave her the dirtiest stare, but he only saw the back of her head, for she was holding the links of ammo for the M60 like everything in the world depended on it.

I ought to roast her in front of the whole squad. Nah now’s not the time.

John looked back through the scope and continued to watch the single tribal dance, but it was short lived. A small pack of tribals came out of the woods banging their weapons, shouting and chanting. Each one was painted and tattooed differently from the next though many shared a resemblance due to their common bond of being born to the same tribe. He watched in awe as they just danced in front of an entire section or two of armed gunman.

[Paula Rose]

OOC: Reserved for when I catch up with this thing..

[Sophh]

Malcolm Ashworth
Whittier Wall
12:20 P.M

“CONTACT!” Malcolm swallowed hard after hearing that word. He scanned the horizon through his scope until it rested on a mad tribal who danced and hissed at the forces of Whittier. "What sort of madness has taken this fool!?", he wondered aloud.

Taking his eye from his weapon he could see Brooks Reed shuddering violently from the tribal's display. Malcolm clapped a hand onto his shoulder. "Stay calm and maintain your focus, everything will be alright."

The man's shaking stopped as he turned to Malcolm and gave him a quick nod. Malcolm took a moment to check with the rest of his squad members, who while nervous were prepared for the battle to begin. Malcolm nervously bit his lower lip clearly hesitant for battle to be joined. He felt a lump in his throat and began to perspire uncontrollably. He warily lifted his carbine's scope to his eye to see what was going on. A enormous mass of tribals emerged from the tree line waving their weapons around ferociously and hollering like wild animals,

The tribal display only unnerved Malcolm more as fear and doubt crept into his head. Malcolm's knees began to tremble and it was hard for him to maintain his balance.