Betrayed – A John Cobb Adventure

1897 – Darkest Africa
Barely daring to breathe John Cobb remained as silent as was humanly possible. Just below him, around twelve feet or so down the slope, the headhunters stalked past. They looked left and right eager to spot the ‘white devil’ who had so far eluded them. Their glistening, dark, black bodies contrasted with the white, elaborate war paint, and in-your-face head dresses. They were not trying to blend in to the surroundings. They were at war. Read the rest of this entry »

This post was submitted by Trent.

Hidden Honor

Driving from behind his shield Lintharin powered huge overhand strikes down onto the enemy. Shoulder to shoulder the melee ensued with skirmish lines being forgotten and now totally un-discernable. Brute strength allowed the Nemenon warrior to free up his sword arm and carve up the enemy with his keen-edged long sword. Standing over six foot and built like an ox, the thirty year old, plate-mailed, veteran-mercenary was a solid combat platform and a perfect example of what one could expect to face in the Iron Companies front line. Read the rest of this entry »

This post was submitted by Peter.

POLICE STORY – Chapter One

Chapter 1 – Rookies on Patrol

Constable Jack Peters quickly ducked down behind his Nissan 4×4 patrol van as the three heavily armed men exited the Vincent Park Shopping Complex. The trio walked out onto the upper level of the parking lot. Crouching Peters edged his way towards the cab of the police van. Opening the passenger’s door he reached inside for the radio. Suddenly the sound of automatic gunfire shattered the daily hum of the shopping centre. Read the rest of this entry »

This post was submitted by Rowan.

The Carpenter

Mendelhein 319 AC
Bergville – The border territories.

Working the broom Grayden Chalice swept the dust and wood shavings across the slate floor of his workshop, and out the door. It was just on dawn in Bergville, and the forty-two year old carpenter was already up and getting ready to start work. The crisp late autumn morning saw clouds of steam greet his every breath. Standing shy of six foot, his dark hair flecked with grey, the quiet, moderately good looking man was mostly unassuming. He was decently built, as one would expect from someone who worked with his hands, and even though he was in his forties, he had avoided the dreaded middle aged spread common to most men his age. Read the rest of this entry »

This post was submitted by Peter.

The Plunkett Murder

17 April 1922 – Boston Mass.

Thirty-three year old Harry Shaw walked up to the front door of 321 Kenisco Knolls, and knocked. He stepped back and rubbed his chin. It felt a little peculiar being clean shaven, as recently the former police detective and war veteran had taken to sporting a healthy chin of stubble. It was also a little out of the ordinary being sober, despite the 18th Amendment. Harry was a heavy drinker. Whiskey was his poison, but it didn’t quite dull the horrors of the Great War. Read the rest of this entry »

This post was submitted by Trent.

The War at Home

The pain was excrutiating, but Adrian Gossard knew he could not give up. Digging his nails into the mud of the ditch he dragged himself out inch by inch. The cold rain of France still pelted down. It had been a good three hours since the American sniper had been discovered by the German patrol out in No-Mans-Land. Beaten and shot twice, once in the right thigh and again in the shoulder, he had been tossed into a water filled shell crater and left for dead. Adrian didn’t know if the violent shivering was from the night cold or the loss of blood, or both? Lying half in and half out the ditch the twenty-four year old hovered between life and death. Read the rest of this entry »

This post was submitted by Trent.

Sky Raiders

“Damn this guys good!” exclaimed Captain Roland Watson as he jerked back on the stick and powered up. The nose of the Mosquito bomber lifted and the plane climbed sharply. A deadly stream of 20mm nicked the tail-plane, but mostly missed the nimble, agile twin engine light bomber. Roland had always wanted to fly fighters and flew his bird like one. Read the rest of this entry »

This post was submitted by Peter.

Holocaust – Colorado Run

Repetitively and methodically he hammered the stubborn rock with the ten pound hammer. With each blow tiny flakes of dolomite flew clear as the mighty stone grudgingly gave up ground. Then suddenly a huge crack appeared. He stepped back almost too stunned to comprehend. The slightest of shafts of light peered through the gap. He felt his heart skip a beat and his breathing increased as the excitement built momentum. He dared not hope that his labor had come to an end lest he was to be disappointed. He hefted up the sturdy old hammer and really put his back into it. Like a dam wall giving up against the pressure of the water the old enemy crumbled and gave way. Soon he was bathed in light that burned his eyes. He sat down and ignored the discomfort. With tears streaming down his face he let the sunlight burn his lily-white skin and his lungs savor the fresh air for the first time in over two years. Read the rest of this entry »

This post was submitted by George.

Holocaust – Denver and death

Joe opened the throttles as he pulled onto a rare stretch of open road in fair condition. The Ducatti 350cc on off road bike screamed forward taking the blemishes on the road in its stride. Crouching low on the back Joe offered the least amount of wind resistance possible. The sheer speed was exhilarating. Joe Davis marveled at how quickly life changed. When nuclear -war ravaged earth a few years ago he had been stuck in a tin mine in Texas serving out a prison sentence for manslaughter. He had had to physically dig his way out to find a changed world. No official structures remained. Anarchy was the order of the day with small oases of sanity and order scattered here and there. Read the rest of this entry »

This post was submitted by George.

Fort Vincent

Bitterroot Mountains, Territory of Idaho – April 1867

The wagon train, twenty strong, wound its way up alongside the Salmon River in the stretch of Rockies known as the Bitterroot Mountains. The particular route it followed was the Dugan Trail, which had become the newly established official route west out of Idaho into Montana, as prospectors flocked to the gold fields of Virginia City and Helena. In addition to the Dugan trail from the west, there were routes from the south like the Boseman Trail, and from the east. The federal government was keen to open up the lucrative gold fields in order to fund the recovery in the wake of the bloody Civil War. Read the rest of this entry »

This post was submitted by Trent.