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Here in are gathered tales of adventure, history, triumph and tragety.

The tales of the MSU.

Please, gather with us around the harth as we, of the MSU share stories from our past.

Watch here for stories to come...

And LO! Like the abrupt appearance of the carrion crow after a most fell slaughter of innocent flesh, there appeared in the vast skies of infinity a most bloated form. Verily, verily I say unto thee that the misshapen behemoth of the heavens was a harbinger of doom for the many unwashed masses of that blue world which in the common tongue we do call "Urth."
Long and thin it was, a masterpiece of the evil and dark arts of science, and indeed its grilled underside did emanate its hot evil not unlike the barbecue of the unrighteous at the hands of our most beloved Lord.

Behold the power of the Grill and quiver! For from its triangular maw none shall emerge unscathed. In times long past, the men of our world did have a name for these dark and brooding leviathans, and they did call them "UFOs" and indeed, the very utterance of their name would send the warriors of the townships scrambling to arms, releasing their mechanical birds and summoning flashing lights to drive the "UFOs" away. No expense was spared to rally the defenses of our beloved blue Urth from the most foul invaders.

But woe be unto the people of Urth, for no longer in their oily midst stood a champion who could stand against the implacable ferociousness of the Grill. And the righteous did quiver, for like the locusts, the boils and the Cans of Tuna they knew the grill was a scourge sent to punish them for their vast multitude of sins and their failure to pay tribute.

But our Lord, in His most glorious mercy, sent unto our threatened people a champion. A warrior who would stand against the Grill.. And this warrior was called… TIM.

Tim was not what thou might call a… Devout man. Indeed, Tim was a slothful, gluttonous pig who had shunned his natural born calling of the Inquisition and had instead chosen to make his profession that unworthy call of Plumber.

Tim’s life had been wasted away, crouched in front of archaic water moving equipment, revealing parts of his body to horrified onlookers which would be better left unexposed. But indeed, the blood of a warrior pumped feebly within his cholesterol ridden veins. The blood of a warrior who had once long ago stood against all foes of the Lord.

It was a dark and stormy night when Tim was told his path by our Heavenly Father. He had made for himself a slovenly nest within his mobile castle, which he did call a "Chateau" and within he lay upon a flea-ridden cushion, gorging himself on prepackaged food cooked most hastily.

Tim spake unto himself, "I wish something exciting would happen to me."

And LO! Lightning split the heavens and hellfire roared from vast crevices deep within Urth! It was as though the planet itself had suddenly acquired an acute case of Acid Reflex disease. And were these bizarre incidents anywhere near Tim, he might have taken notice and been afraid, for indeed such are the omens of the Lord.

But instead, Tim continued to lounge on his cushion, brown like the color of seven day old fish. But never let it be said that the Absolute is not persistent! For abruptly, as though mandated by the Heavens themselves, there was a knock on the door!

Struggling to his feet and rearranging his multitude of lumps, Tim resembled a battered potato as he waddled unto his door. There, he paused momentarily to wrap his God-gifted opposable thumb around the door handle, and with a dramatic flourish, he exposed himself unto the night air!

His door squealed as though a tiny, inordinately cute little girl had been mauled by Communists, which did somewhat dampen the dramatic effect but it was of no importance, for there, basking in the glory of the rain, those beauteous tears of the sky, there stood a woman!

Aye! A woman not unlike the one from which thou wert born of stood in the doorway. Graceful curves ran together in wondrous symmetry, and her beauteous features did resemble those ancient beauties of long past. Those mythic names, such as Helen of Troy, Cleopatra and Liv Tyler. Verily, verily I say unto thee that her eyes were pools of deep blue ocean, and her long lashes providing a seductive veil.

The woman spoke thusly unto Tim, "Art thou… TIM?!"

Indeed, the question was uttered with such an intensity that our good hero was shocked back nearly a full foot and returned with, "Aye! I am that man they call Tim. What wouldst thou have of me, most fair and elusive creature?"

And so the woman replied, continuing the game of social interaction, "I seek… A PLUMBER!"

At this, the Good Tim’s eyes did open wide, for indeed, he knew of such men. His voice growing confident at her request, he queried, "And what dost thou require a plumber for?"

And the woman said unto Tim, "I have a clogged… PIPE!"

And Tim said unto the woman, "Is that a euphemism for something?"

"Nay! I have a pipe and it needs to be… CLEANED! Canst thou perform this task for me, or shall I seek out another… COBBLEOAF?"

"In sooth lady, I wouldst do this for thee, but first I must ask… Why dost thou scream the last part of thy sentences at me?" Spake the Tim unto the woman.

And the woman’s words were wise as she said, "It is my solemn duty to prepare thee and thy audience for the dramatic, indeed, the monumental story... AHEAD!"

And Tim was confused, for he knew not the thing that would soon task him and stretch his lumpy form. He seized for himself his plunger, and a wrench and garbed himself in the clothing of his profession, those horrifying pants which did reveal the desolate landscape of his lower body. And so doing, Tim set out with the woman, who’s name he did not get, to apply himself fully to the task laid out before him.

In short order, Tim and the Lady were discussing the exact nature of her problem during the journey unto her dwelling place. But there was no more dialogue, for indeed it was known that such hapless repetition of the word "said" would wreak unparalleled havoc upon the hapless readers. So instead, Tim and the Lady soon found themselves at her doorstep. And her house was large, in the way one thinks of the Hat of Gandalf as being large, and adorned with many things of shiny appearance.

Tim was awestruck and spake unto the Lady, "I am awestruck!"

And the Lady replied unto Tim, "Thank thee, Captain Obvious!"

And LO! A man walked by the house, and he wore a three cornered hat and was wrapped in hose and codpieces and shouted unto the pair, "Thou art welcome!" And then like a shimmering wraith, Captain Obvious was gone.

Then the Lady opened the door, and conducted the good Tim within, and took him unto the kitchen. And there, Tim spied a Pipe, and as the Lady had said it was clogged. And with the expert skill of a man who had unclogged many pipes, Tim unclogged the pipe.

But that was not the end of the story! Nay, for indeed, the Grill had not been confronted, or even introduced to the story! And so the Lady spake unto Tim, "Tim… Dost thou… DESIRE ME?!"

Tim was aghast at the question. For indeed, he did desire the buxom lass, but he feared to say as much lest the question be a trick. He quickly shook his head. To this the woman was equally aghast, and said unto Tim, "Art thou daft?! I have been provided for the sole purpose of romantic interest and character motivation and thou art afraid of thy desire for me?"

Tim began to suspect that not all was as it appeared, and said unto the Lady, "Certes lady, I do desire thee, but I will not sell mine soul unto thee for the pleasure of thy bed! I will have nothing to do with thee, Succubus!"

And so saying, Tim took to his heels and fled into the open streets. But woe be unto Tim, for he looked into the sky, and there he saw the Grill! And its bottom did pulse with evil, and near the front was an unmistakable logo… Not that Tim knew what the Logo was, for indeed, capitalism had been long dead on Urth and none now knew of the insidious evil which lurked in their sky, save those who looked into the sky.

A light flared, and the Grill lowered itself, and Tim began to sweat. Indeed, sweat is hardly the appropriate word, for moisture escaped from Tim’s body not unlike rancid pork, and the buildings nearby began to melt and trees and grass did wither and die like so many withering and dying things.

Was this the end of our fearless Hero?

Unfortunately so. For indeed, though Tim had been Divinely mandated to stand against the Grill, he did not appear to be mandated to stop the grill. There are few living creatures who can stop a giant, evil, flying barbecue grill with nothing save a plunger, a wrench and poorly tailored pants. Didst thou expect MacGuyver?

Nay. There was no mullet. Only lumpiness and fear stood against the Grill. And thus, the Grill did triumph.

May the story be remembered forever and ever: For without courage and constancy there can be no victory.

Let us pray that when our time comes, we may face our fate with less sweating than poor, hapless Tim. Let us pray that we face not giant grills, but instead tasks that befall us are to our size. Let us pray it all in the name of the Lord. Amen.

I finally came up with the second chapter... Hope you enjoy 3nodding

Chapter 2: Missing Haru

In podeman's room...

"So, how do you think they're going to taste?" questioned Haru.

"Well, they should taste good... I added a couple of ingredients to add flavor... Well, if they don't, we could always just kill Archmage for it," pode replied.

"Why would we... Wait a minute... You didn't!" Haru suddenly burst out.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" pode said unconvincingly.

"...You took them without asking again, didn't you?! Both him and I told you about messing with the chemicals! I should go tell him right...*pode shove a piece of cake into her mouth* after I get done with this delicous cake!"

"See, I told you it'd be good. Don't worry, I didn't put anything dangerous in it."

*Thaddeus walks in* "I hope I didn't interrupt anything, but Archmage is looking for you pode... He said something about some missing chemicals...

*Haru looks at pode* "Uhoh... I gotta go!" *pode runs out of the room just as archmage get there*

"Come back here you thief! Those aren't for making desserts out of you idiot!" A.M. shouted as he chased after podeman.

*Meanwhile, Jon-oh just happened to be walking down the hall, as pode and archmage are heading towards him* "Come on, it was just a few things!" Pode yelled behing him.

"Yeah, and those 'few things' were what I required for an experiment later today! I swear, I'll make sure this is the last time you take thing from my lab! When I catch you, I'm gonna... *realizes that they are about to crash right into Jon-oh* Oh s**t!" *pode runs into Jon-oh, and archmage trips over them both*

"What do you idiots think you're doing?! I'm gonna kill you!" Jon shouted angrily as he pulled out his gun.

"Oops... Gotta go!" pode said. He then jumped up and started running again.

"You get back here!" A.M. said as he started running after pode again.

"Hey, I'm not finished!" Jon-oh yelled as he starts shooting at them. At that exact moment, Saint b*****d walked out of his room and one of Jon-oh's bullets hit him in the head.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Are you trying to kill me or something?!" Saint b*****d shouted at Jon-oh.

"Chill out, I was trying to hit pode and archmage. They knocked me down and made me hit my head on the floor. Oh, don't worry, the bullets are rubber, so they won't kill you," Jon-oh replied. *Saint b*****d grabs his hammer labled 'The Punisher'* "What are you doing? Come on, it was an accident! You're not listening, are you? *Saint b*****d shakes his head* "Uh-oh... See ya!" Jon-oh said as he sprinted away.

"Get back here!" Saint b*****d yelled as he chased after him.

"STOP!!!!" Thaddeus yelled as they almost hit him.

"Why should I? This idiot stole my stuff!" Archmage said.

"And they both ran into me!" Jon-oh said.

"And he shot me!" Saint b*****d said.

"Because, Haru's gone!" Thaddeus shouted.

End of chapter 2

It was cold, very cold. It got that way this late at night, nearly 2 AM, most sensible people were in bed, especially in this part of town, it wasn't exactly the kind of place that attracted much traffic after dark.

Or before dark for that matter.

All around the thick stench of a decaying town filled the air; the grit and grime of years upon years of hard times, which inevitably follow past prosperities, seeped into my every pour.

And I got to be standing out in the middle of an unlit parking lot for what apparently used to be a grocery store. I always did get the lucky assignments.

Two days ago command had received an anonymous tip that someone had some hot information about a new cult of necromancy. Necromancy could only mean one thing: undead, and that meant I got the call. I was dispatched out to the prearranged meeting location, and I had done some rooting around but nothing turned up. Whatever was going on, our mysterious informant was either very careful to set up our meeting away from this cult, or whatever half-baked necro-monkey was running this outfit smelled something fishy and had gone completely underground. Which meant they could be anywhere, and were probably already watching me.

I was hoping for the former, but years of experience told me that I probably shouldn't kid myself.

Of course right at the moment I didn't care what kind of robe wearing zombie humper was keeping track of my movements because I was so cold I was worried about the hair on my legs freezing and breaking off.

Then I heard it, a foot step approaching, about 40 yards behind and to the right, turning slowly to face it, my hand hovering just over my sidearm, I looked to who I assumed was the informant. I saw the form from a ways off, tall, and lithe, with long blonde hair. The form approaching had legs that went on for days, and walked with a sort of natural beauty, an easy grace that comes as instinct to certain lucky creatures. The trench-coated figure came closer to me; I could now clearly make out the milky skin, and pale blue eyes of the face. The informant then spoke to me in a surprisingly masculine tone, "Are you the MSU guy?"

It was an elf. I felt dirty. "Yeah, who are you, and what seems to be the problem?" I asked the demi-human, trying not to let contempt show across my face.

"My name's Nimihil... Nimihil Broadleaf." He breathed deeply, collecting his self; now that I had a better look at him He looked as nervous as a cat at a dog show. Speaking in a low conspiratorial tone, he began to explain the situation, "You must understand, I've lived here for my whole life, I've never made any trouble for any one, always minded my business?" I nodded in understanding, gesturing for him to get to the point, "Well, it all started a month back or so. Well... you see... it's my brother?" he paused, glancing about slightly.

"What about him?" I asked, squinting, this guyed started confessing something, and I wasn't about to let him stop now because he felt nervous about talking to me.

"Months back he... I'm so ashamed... he started studying the black arts..." covering his face with his hands, he rubbed his face worriedly.

Considering for a moment, I tapped my nose lightly. "Which black arts are we talking about here... I mean, there's a lot of them."

He glanced up from between his fingers flatly, as though it were a silly question, "Necromancy... like I said when I called you guys."

"Of course, I just asked for... clarification." Something about this set up didn't smell right. When a fledgling ring of necromancers begins working, usually there's a certain aroma about the area, an unmistakable sick-sweet odor of decaying flesh, the byproduct of numerous poorly concealed experiments with the recent dead, regardless of the success or failure of these experiments, a new organization shouldn't be this good at masking their actions.

I was concerned that there was much more than I was being told happening around here. Either this group had been in operation for a fairly considerable length of time, or they were getting some outside assistance with some more serious success rate, or perhaps the most frightening of prospects, this yahoo running the show was some sort of tactical genius. As I pondered on the possibilities, I happened to notice the elf was still talking.

"...So I was sort of hoping you could maybe rescue her if you could."

"What? Rescue who now?"

"My wife... weren't you paying attention?"

"Of course I was, I'm a professional, Broadleaf, now tell me again, what about your wife?"

"My brother's got her... she's been missing for almost 2 weeks. A few adventurers have tried to save her, but no one's seen them or her for a while now." The elf looked extremely concerned, whoever this woman was, he clearly cared very deeply for her. Despite myself, my heart was sorry for this poor guy. Experience has taught me that damsels in distress very rarely come out of their distress the same as when they started.

"What's this brother of yours name? And do you have any idea where I might find him?" I ask calmly, trying not to let my sympathy show. The lean elf before me cleared his throat and collected him self, then uttered a series of syllables which I couldn't pronounce if I had a double-jointed tongue.

"Come again?"

"That's his name... I'm sorry, it's Elvish, and almost impossible to pronounce in the human tongues. As to his whereabouts, I'm afraid I don't know; I'm sure someone around here does, his influence is being very quickly spread through the town, a number of the townsfolk are already members of his sect." Broadleaf whispered conspiratorially, "There's really very few people around that you can trust."

"I'll make due I'm sure." I said as I glanced over my shoulder. Something was moving around in the shadows behind me, at least I was pretty sure, I thought I saw some quick movements out of the corner of my eye. Deciding to contend with it now, rather than later. I turned around fully, my hand touching the grip of my Glock 17, held in my shoulder holster. My eyes narrowed as the thrill of anticipated battle filled my chest, "Step out where I can see you."

A moment of silence and stillness, "I don't see..." The elf at my back whispered tensely, I quickly hushed him wish a "shh" gesture. Slowly, from the shadows of the alleyway ahead of us, a form appeared. Then another, and another. One stepped forward, I can only assume this to be the leader, he was a filthy looking fellow, he had the look of a man who'd had a few too many hangovers, bar-room fights and nights in the gutter, but had no intentions of avoiding another one. "You guys have a problem? Maybe we can solve it for ya." The man before me sneered, after a quick head count I noticed there were about a dozen of these guys, most still in the shadows, I could see now they were armed, mostly with pipes, chains and knives.

"Oh no", I said, "I think I'm going to be solving both of our problems." I said, a half grin crossing my face.

"WELL, WELL, boys, looks like we've got a feisty one. You fags'd better start running, 'cause we're going to kill us some quires tonight!"

My smile vanished and I furrowed my brow. "Excuse me?"

"We're going to kill us a couple of a** raiders, and you two just got elected." The man in front of me said as he approached my slowly, his compatriots murmured to one another, building their own confidence.

"Sir, these guys aren't?" The elf said touching my shoulder a split instant before I pulled my gun and fired into the mass of the group before me. The leader looked surprised for a moment, then he looked very dead. Three more of his associates fell to the ground before the rest started to run, and another two were solved before the rest vanished from my sight.

"Yeah, I know." I said walking toward the nearest body, checking his vitals, and then I proceeded to the rest of them, finding one still alive... for another few seconds. "I'm hungry, let's go get some... cheese steak sandwiches."

"um... alright?" The elf squeaked, I suppose pretty rattled by what he'd just seen. Either that or he didn't like cheese steak and was just being polite. Elves are so polite. "But... what about all these bodies? Are you just going to leave them here?"

"Of course not, that'd attract a lot of attention I really don't need.? holstering my sidearm, I pull my cell phone off my belt. "Hey Phil... Mmhm... I'm fine thanks, and yourself?... How's the little one?... Oh good... heh, always to business, eh?... yup... 6 dead, all human... They threatened an informant and myself... yup... cheese steak... no, get your own... look I'm in the middle of a case I can't just... I'll get one for you later... I'd be cold by the time I got it to you if I bought you one now... okay? I said, I'll get you one later... right... bye." Hanging up "So... cheese steak?"

Nodding the nauseous looking elf lead me down the street to a little mom-and-pop all night diner. It was a little shabby looking, but comfortable. A picturesque looking eatery with a dull red neon 'open all night' signs in the window. Entering, the elf began to sit in a booth by the door, tapping him on the shoulder I shook my head and gestured with my chin to the line of stools. "There." I always loved sitting in those stools.

As we approached the line of no backed seats, I selected a chair next to the only other customer. A redhead, small in stature, and a bright personality. She hummed some anonymous song as we approached. She didn't look up from her milk shake as I sat next to her, and the elf on the other side of me.

"So, Mr. Broadleaf, what else can you tell me about your brother? How long has he been..." Carefully chooseing my words, "in business?"

"He and his group have been in operation for nearly a year now."

"A year? Why hadn't you contacted us sooner?" I said, nearly yelling at the blonde elf.

"You're unlisted, it was really hard to get your guys' phone number."

"Oh... of course."

A moment later a bored looking waitress, about 24 I'd say, a well proportioned young woman, who didn't seem to be the slightest bit interested in talking to a couple of hungry guys. "What'll it be?" she asked flatly, tapping the stubby pencil on the pad of paper.

"I'll have a cheese-steak sandwich, and a Mr. Pibb." I said quickly, trying to suppress my anticipation for a good sandwich.

"Che-steak and a Dr. Pepper okay?" She said scribbling quickly.

I hated the south. No one has any Pibb. "yeah..." I said, slightly deflated.

The elf waved the waitress off, and looked at me expectantly. We sat in silence for a moment as I waited for my order to be filled. Drumming my fingers on the counter I noticed for the first time the music playing over the speakers. 'Convoy' droned on through the nearly empty restaurant. I hate that song. Glancing at the floor I noticed that it needed sweeping, a roach ran by my boot. Looking back to the counter, I found a tall glass of fuzzy dark brown liquid. "Whoa... soda ninja." I whispered to myself, picking up the tasty beverage and taking a sip. It was about this time I noticed that Mr. Broadleaf was speaking to me again. "... My wife?"

"I'm sorry what?"

"I SAID, what are you planning on doing about finding my brother and my wife?" He said again, clearly agitated.

Taking another sip, I sighed and explained, "Look, man, you haven't exactly given me a whole lot to go on. There's a ring of highly organized necromancers working in the area, they're entrenched, they're well led, they, for all the world appear to be pretty darn powerful, and you don't even have a single clue where to start looking for them. SO what say you let me enjoy my sandwich and soda, and we'll deal with business later."

"Fine." Broadleaf said, clearly upset. He did an all right job of hiding it, but this guy looked like he was about to fall apart at the seams.

Rubbing my eyes, taking another long drag on my soda straw, and then sighing again. "Alright, alright." I've never been able to say no to people who were heart broken. Call it a weakness. "Rayn, have you found out anything useful yet?"

The red-headed girl next to me said in an official sounding voice, "Yes, agent OH, I've discovered some useful information. It seems this sect has been in operation here for close to a year; it is well established in the area and has worked its influence into all levels of local government. Their leader does not make personal appearances; instead he remains hidden with most of the members of the cult inside their hidden stronghold. I was unable to determine the necromancer's base of operations, however I was able to ascertain that they hold periodic membership efforts at random locations throughout the city, targeting usually mid to late teenagers."

"Sounds pretty standard operation, except there isn't like... freaking zombies running around the city yet."

Sighing at my comment, NightRayn merely commented "Indeed."

Silence settled over the diner for a moment, experience told me that Rayn was contemplating the next step of the plan. I was only concerned with my lack of cheese steak. The empty pit in my stomach growled harshly, desiring a filling with delicious gooey cheese covered beef. Sparing Broadleaf a glance, I could see that worry had been eating at him for some time, though he tried not to let the pain he felt show on his face when he thought anyone was looking.

In all the years I've engaged in this profession, I've never been good at comforting those harmed by the evils I combated. I always acted as though avenging the wronged was comfort enough. But between the initial pain of being injured, and the comfort of vindication, I have always been at a loss as to what should be said. I've long understood that there were ways of assisting those who's nagging guilt of helplessness, or their pained torture of uncertainty, things that could be said or done to ease their pain. I just have no idea what these techniques are.

While I was considering these things, and what I should say to the concerned elf next to me, the power failed, and we were plunged into inky darkness.

Acting on instinct, I leapt to my feet, drew my sidearm, and pulled Broadleaf between Rayn and myself. Glancing to Rayn, I saw that she had drawn her now trademarked twin sigs; the pale light from her guns' laser sights provided the only illumination in the room. All was still. All was silent.

It was the silence that worried me. "Where's the waitress?" Broadleaf whispered. It's strange how when darkness fills a room it inspires people to not speak above a whisper.

Rayn and I didn't respond instead we scanned the darkness without blinking for several long moments. The stillness remained unbroken, a quick look out the front window at the street lamp still burning told me that the power-failure most likely was caused by someone who wanted us blinded. Finally, I spoke, "Rayn, We should get out, take point, stay close and alert." I asked, not looking to her, I could feel Broadleaf moving away from me; he was conducting himself pretty well for a civilian. But the ragged sound to his breath spoke volumes about his fear.

Walking backward, expecting some unseen danger to present itself, the diner was pretty small, so the door didn't take long to reach. "Street looks clear, not a soul." Rayn reported, peaking out of the door.

"Check, let's get out of here, this place is making me nervous." I said in a low voice. Expecting the door to slide open and the cool night air to press against my back, when it didn't, I took notice.

"The door's been sealed... some kind of sorcery." Rayn said, pulling on the door with no effect. Turning to exit plan B, I squeezed a round into the plate glass window in the front of the diner. The bullet, leaving my gun struck the window, the glass shimmered for a moment and visibly bowed where the bullet tried to drive through, but then the glass flexed back to normal, and the bullet remained suspended in mid-air by unseen forces, still spinning against the glass, apparently as dangerous as a top.

"Windows too... stay sharp." I cautioned uselessly, I've known NightRayn for sometime, and she's never been anything but sharp. Adjusting out positions, with our backs to the useless door, keeping Broadleaf between the wall, and us we scanned the room for whatever was keeping us inside the diner.

"You see anything?" I asked my company, both voiced negative responses. The silence and the darkness no longer seemed so heavy; I had certainly had about enough. Drawing to my full height, I looked about and shrugged. "I think they're just trying to keep us pinned in. I guess a showdown would be too much to hope for."

"You know bad guys, they're all about dramatically setting stages and such." Rayn said calm as ever, rising from her crouched position, still looking about like a red-haired prairie dog, who happened to be packing a pair of .45s.

Taking a quick note of the condition of our civilian friend, he seemed to be holding up as well as can be expected. Granted he was curled up in the fetal position, whimpering something about how we were all going to die a terribly painful death at the hands of his brother, shivering violently, and I do believe I smelled something that was distinctly reminiscent of urine, but otherwise he was fine.

"Right, Let's get out of here." Scanning the wall for a moment, and utilizing the super secret technique taught to me years ago by a Kung-Fu construction expert, I located the structural weaknesses on the front wall. Expertly firing 5 times into the wall at specific locations and with a particular rhythm, the wall shivered for a moment, then collapsed onto itself, folding like a paper fan. The collapsing wall threw up a large amount of dust, obscuring our view of the street for a moment. Gradually the dust cleared, and our eyes adjusted enough to the light outside to realize that we were no longer alone.

Before us, filling the street was an army of ghouls, probably zombies from my initial estimation. The crowd of zombies made no move toward us, or indeed any move at all. Deciding that I'm going to need a bigger gun, I put away my pistol and draw my FN P-90 from its resting place under my coat. Broadleaf had for some reason pulled himself together and stood at my left, glancing to him, his eyes were diverted upward. Following his gaze, I saw a hooded figure standing on the building across the street. Its arms were crossed and the purple-ish red cloak blew dramatically in the breeze. Which is of course why you wear cloaks.

"The time for your judgment is at hand! You have trespassed in my city with the intent to do harm to my brothers and I. And worse still, my own flesh and blood betraying my by leading you here..." He looked like he was going to be going on that tangent for a while, so I tuned him out. The corpse-gropers always give such stupid speeches. Scanning the crowd of zombies, they looked pretty low level. None of them had the slightest glint of intellect, nor were they armed. Should be pretty easy pickings. But still there were a lot of them, and this guy might have a few extra tricks up his sleeve.

"WHERE'S MY WIFE!?!?" Broadleaf bellowed toward his brother, snapping me out of my pondering.

"Oh, she's Safe enough; she;s about to undergo the ceremony." The cloaked figure chuckled, he seemed to delight in torturing his brother, "As for you two, government dogs..."

"GAH! You?re BOREING!" I yelled at him, I'd had about enough of this comic book super villain bullshit, quickly composing myself, I continued. "By the authority duly designated to me by the Agency of Monster Slayers United, and the administrative authority of the Shadow government, you are hereby found guilty of unsanctioned use of magics, and the illegal reanimation of the deceased. Surrender yourself to our custody or die."

There was a brief pause while the cloaked figure stared at me in disbelief. Apparently he thought that having some 200 zombies between him and me gave him an advantage, because he planted his fists on his hips and gave a hearty Errol Flynn laugh before pointing at us and uttering "Kill them."

I glanced to Rayn who had already begun firing into the crowd, doing the same with my sub-gun; we began to cut a swath into the sea of smelly, decomposing flesh. While fighting through them I noticed why there hadn't been a zombie outbreak in this area. These weren't so much zombies, as much as they were corpse golems. Which meant that I was going to need to kill their creator.

The difference is mostly academic, but it is in essence, a "zombie", in the sense we usually think of them, is basically made a zombie through whatever means and is nearly uncontrollable. They shamble about; attacking things that they see, moan a lot, you get the picture. While the "corpse golem" zombie, is still a zombie in that it's a mindless reanimated hunk of dead guy. The difference comes from the fact that they are directly controlled by the will of their conjuror. It takes a much higher degree of concentration to make, and maintain than regular zombies. But if a necro-bunny were to be able to do so, then the corpse golem could make a reasonably more effective personal guard, or servant. Also as an important note, if the zombie-master's hold over them is broken, they generally stop functioning and return to a pre-undead state, see also "dead".

With this in mind, I fought my way in as straight a line as I could manage to the building where the cloaked figure was standing, hauling my way up the fire escape with monkey-like skill, I stepped onto the roof of the building. The mage, now with his hood thrown back revealing a face and head much like that of Broadleaf's only more woman-like, grinned confidently at me, as he drew a black, gnarly looking sword.

"Well, well, I never thought I'd get an MSU agent as one of our slaves, my master will be pleased. You'll make a fine drone." He snarled at me as I took aim, "You'd fight me from there while I only have my sword" I thought all you adventurer types were bound by honor to play fair."

Shrugging I squeezed off a bust. Impressively the ghoul grabber parried the inbound bullets. Laughing at his success, or my failure whichever, he swung his sword around dramatically. Replacing my sub-gun, I considered my next move. "Face it, hero, you've met your match, by now my drones have likely dispensed with your girlfriend, and she will be made one of us, join us, and you?ll be spared the pain of death."

Looking over the edge of the building, I saw Rayn polishing off the last of a group of 10, fighting bare fisted now, she was making fairly short work of the remaining monsters. Turning my attention back to the post mortem moron. "That's okay, I'll pass." Unclipping from my belt a Flash bang grenade (never leave home without one), jerking the pin and tossing it to the ground. My opponent must have thought it a real grenade because he dove over the edge of the building; I jumped after him, the grenade detonated with an incredibly bright flash of light, and an extremely loud 'bang'. If you've ever wondered why 'flash bangs' were called flash bangs, then you sir, are an idiot.

Falling from a four-story building, I briefly considered the wisdom of jumping from a perfectly good building just to catch a guy Rayn could just as easily have apprehended or killed when he landed. Deciding that retrospect was 20/20, and realizing that I was falling, I grabbed the free falling decomposition magician. Loosing my handgun from the shoulder holster I put 3 in his abdomen, under his ribcage angled up. He was as dead as his carrion-buddies by the time we hit the ground.

I lay motionless for a moment. Not because I couldn't, but because I was afraid that if I did, I would somehow hurt more. Opening my eyes, I saw Rayn kneeling next to me, and Broadleaf standing over his fallen brother. "How are you Agent OH?"

"I just fell from the roof of a four story building and landed on my back. How do you THINK I am?" Slowly reholstering my weapon.

"Hungry?" Rayn suggested.

"Well, yes, but that's not important just now. But we're not done yet, this guy was playing second banana to some other goober." Taking her arm, I pulled myself to my feet, breathing deeply; I winced and almost fell over. I think I broke a rib or two. Supported by Rayn, we hobbled to Broadleaf

"I'm sorry brother." Broadleaf whispered, then he began praying in Elvish.

I decided this seemed like a good time to seal his evil. Slowly dropping to a knee, I raised a hand toward the body, and said a prayer to keep him from getting all lichy on us.

"But... my wife? Where is she?" Broadleaf said weakly, his strength nearly exhausted.

"Well, let's see here..." Digging into the body's pockets, I found a strip of paper. Unfolding it, revealed a dry cleaning receipt, apparently he had his dry cleaning delivered to his compound. There was an address sprawled on the back. Offering it to Broadleaf I asked, "Do you know where this is?"

Nodding, we made our way into the direction of where we hoped to find the Necromancer temple. If the part of town we were just in was a slum, this was worse, if only because it appeared to be a residential neighborhood. It was coming on dawn, and somehow the warm sunlight spilling across the broken down, empty, apartments didn't add any color to the lifeless, gray buildings. The closer we came to our destination the more the place felt like death. A permeable sense of dread surrounded this neighborhood, as though something horrible had happened here a long time ago. The event was over, and now there were no people here, but the effects were still felt, it began to rain, as though the place itself was crying from the tragedy.

We approached the building at the address on the slip of paper. It certainly looked innocent from the street. A simple, 2 story apartment building. I was feeling a bit better, and was able to walk under my own power again, a little gingerly, but still without assistance. "Mr. Broadleaf, You need to go home, we'll send your wife there when we find her. Things are only going to get more dangerous from here in, and we don't need you in our way." I didn't add 'Besides you don't need to see whatever they did to your wife.' But I didn't think I needed to.

Nodding feebly, he looked at me with a glass-eyed look, and began to head toward home. Turning Rayn and I walked in lock step to the front door.

The door was heavy, solid oak, not decorated at all, save the simple brass knocker in the middle it didn't look like we could break it without some special equipment we just didn't have. We considered the door for a bit, "So, should we just knock? Or..." I asked Rayn.

"Seems like a plan I suppose." She shrugged, lightly running her hand over the seams.

"Okay? get ready for this."

Nodding she checked and readied her guns, I lifted the heavy knocker and wrapped it against the wood. The woody sound was our only response to the knock. We waited another moment before Rayn reached over and tried the knob. The door swung open freely.

"...um... I was going to try that next." Walking through the portal, we were greeted with an empty vestibule. Wasting no time, we began a search of the facility. The first and second floors turned up room after filthy, unkempt room, but no zombies, no necromancers, and certainly no Elvin brides. Along the back of the first floor, a passage to a lower level was uncovered. The door was locked, but it was a hollow plywood door. Withdrawing my axe, I obtained entry, and we proceeded into the basement.

Almost as quickly at my boot heel hit the basement floor, and we were again engaged in raging combat. More of those bullet magnet zombies beset us. The 'basement' although it was really more of a dungeon looking place, was, at least the area that we've seen thus far, a series of narrow tunnels, wide enough to fit about 2 abreast. And they'd chocked the halls with zombies. The narrow hall couldn?t have been more than 70 feet long, but with all the hostiles, it took almost 30 minutes to get through it.

Quickly reloading our guns, we emerged from the tunnel into an excessively large room, made entirely of concrete, and bordered with torches. In the center of the room, there was an alter on which a leggy, blond elf lay fastened with thick ropes, the elf was wearing long, white, linen robes. It looked female, but I wasn't ready to make that call yet. Besides that, the room was as empty as a pizza box in a dorm room.

By this time, we were getting pretty tired. A long evening of fighting without the benefit of cheese steak had left us running low on energy, never the less, we approached the alter, Rayn bent to cut the ropes, the girl, (confirmed, it WAS a girl!) looked up at us confused and afraid. She appeared a little roughed up, and a bit under nourished, but otherwise healthy. "We're with the MSU, we're here to get you out." I told the young lady, she seemed a little slow to believe us, but my picking her up and tossing her over my shoulder helped change her mind.

We turned to extract ourselves, when we heard a harsh, rough sounding laugh. Looking to the entrance of the temple, an ancient looking man in the same robe as the last guy stood blocking our path.

"You two are quite skilled... you've slain my right hand, decimated my forces, penetrated my lair, but if you think I'll let you steal my new bride. you're sadly mistaken."

"Sorry pal, your divorce is about to get finalized." I snarled at him.

"Bite your tongue whelp! I have powers beyond your feeble reckoning! I shall rip your souls from your bodies, grind them into dust and use your husks as the first to blocks to rebuild my army..."

He looked like he could go on for a while, I rolled my eyes, and glanced at Rayn; she looked as tired as I felt. We locked eyes, nodded and looked to the babbling old mummy mover. He was still going on about his innate superiority, and proclaiming his ultimate victory when we both opened fire. Taken off guard, and now filled with bullet holes, he fell to the ground with a wet 'thud'.

Quickly stepping over the corpse, saying the sealing prayer as we got the noncombatant from the danger zone. Exiting the building, I gently set the Elvin girl on the ground. "Are you harmed?" She shook her head slowly, she seemed fairly weak, but more at ease, "Do you know how to get home from here?" She nodded, again, "Rayn, Take her home, I'm going to get D-CUps out here, and keep it contained until then." Turning back to the elf girl, "Mrs. Broadleaf, when you get home, get your husband, and get out of town."

Wordlessly, Rayn lifted the small elf, and helped her down the road. 'Rayn did a good job today, I should tell her so sometime.' I thought to myself, as I produced my cell phone and began dialing.

"Hey Phil... yeah, it's a huge damn mess... the town looks pretty empty, except for the informer and his wife... they're getting out so there's no big rush on this one... no, I didn't count how many zombies we left laying around, I was a little busy killing them, and avoiding being injured myself to keep sc... yes I call myself a professional... no I didn't get a sandwich yet... no... Didn't I say I was going to get you one? Didn't I say that?... Okay, then you can take that to the bank... yeah... no I'm getting a cheese steak sandwich... a meatball sandwich... You want a... do you want any onions or anything on it?... Fine, I'll get you a sandwich... see you soon."

Often after a mission, I ask myself, what was gained here? What happened that made this worth the effort, the danger? Reuniting the Broadleafs, that was good. Stopping an evil necromancer group, that was pretty good too. But I think the real lessoned learned here is 'Never tell Phil you?re getting a sandwich.'

Taken from the DCUps archives of confiscated transcripts of audio recordings.

Site of gun battle between non-monstrous hostile units engaged with regular police forces. Multiple hostages involved, MSU operative "Jon-OH" responded, requiring DCUps intervention, post-op.

Audio recording created by a reporter on scene who kept her tape recorder operating in order to capture the events to create a lasting and detailed account of the activities. Female narrative voice later confirmed to be said reporter, one "Cynthia Jonesburgh".

(gun shots and unintelligible shouts in the back ground, sirens in the distance)

Female voice: This is Cynthia Jonesburgh, recording the events of a live gun battle between police forces, and 4... no 5 armed gun-men...

(more gunfire, shouts from about the room, a few whimpers)

Jonesburgh: ...armed gun-men, who broke into the restaurant, and took us all hostage, they've been exchanging fire with police units on the ground below for almost 10 minutes.

(More gunfire)

Man's voice: All you on the floor get up!

(rustle of clothes, panicked voices murmuring, a few more gun shots)

Man's voice: I SAID MOVE IT! (Gun shot, heavy thud) Move or you'll end up like this guy, now GO!

Jonesburgh: (whispering, breathing heavily) OH my God... Oh my God, they've killed a hostage... they're lining us all up on the wall, I think they're trying to use us as human shields against the polices' fire... I can see... 3 downed officers from here... I can't tell if they're okay or not... they don't seem to be moving much...

(more shouts, largely unintelligible)

Man 2: Now what?

Man 1: We wait, they'll have to negotiate, we've got all these hostages.

Jonesburgh: (whispering) I think I saw a man approach the building from the side, but I... surely the police wouldn't be trying anything like that... I hope I'm not seeing things...

Voice on bullhorn: You in the building?

Man 1: (yelling) Yeah?

Bullhorn: We wish to negotiate for the release of your prisoners...

Man 1: (yelling) We'll need some time, you boys just hold off and behave yourselves and no one will be harmed!

Bullhorn: We'd like a good faith offering, to show that you're willing to deal with us, how about you release 2 prisoners, to show you're willing to cooperate!

Man 2: man ******** that s**t, we can't give up nobody.

Man 1: shut up! (yelling again) No dice, we'll get back in touch with you!

(the gunmen's talking fades a bit, more or less muffled in the distance)

Jonesburgh: I don't know what's going to happen to us... I'll keep recording as long as I can... but I'm so scared... so scared...

(a door is heard being kicked open in the distance)

Jonesburgh: What? It's some man in a black over-coat with an... eye patch? Is he with the police?

Jon-OH: I'm here to negotiate...

Man 3: This wasn't part of the deal, smoke that mothah' (Gun shot)

Jon-OH: Neither was that...

(series of gunshots, numerous from all sides at first, but gunfire falling silent periodically)

Jonesburgh: (nearly squealing) OHMAHGAWD!OHMAHGAWD!OHMAHGAWD! The new comer has engaged the hostage takers in a gun battle... I and the other hostages have taken cover as best we can... It's unreal... the man in the over coat seems to somehow be getting the upper hand on these criminals... he's just killed one... and another.... if I wasn't looking at this, I would say it was the stuff of B action movies...

(more gunfire, and 2 more yelps, and the gun noises fall silent, a franticly breathing, voice is heard a short ways off, the action of a gun being worked)

Man 1: I'm empty... I... I surrender! (soft thud, gun hitting the floor)

Jon-OH: Pick up that gun and die like a man.

Man 1: naw.. naw I'm all spent, I don't have any more, I want my lawyer, so read me my rights, let's get going...

Jon-OH: I said pick up that gun... you can either die like a man, or like a dog, it's your choice.

Jonesburgh: wha... the new comer... I don't think he's a policemen...

Man 1: What? You aren't supposed to... I mean... you have to take me in... don't you? I mean... I've surrendered... I get my day in court!

Jon-OH: Sorry, I don't answer to the law... I work for a higher power, you can take it up with Him when you meet in a few moments. There's no appeal from me, no lawyer can help you, there is no time off for good behavior. Now get on your feet, and arm yourself, so you can at least DIE like you have half the dignity that those men you killed had.

Man 1: (Unintelligible)

Jon-OH: By the athority invested in me by the Shadow government of these United States, and by the righteous indignation bestowed upon me by God almighty, I do hereby condem your soul to be judged by the supreme justice. (a weapon cocks) Good bye.

(a singular gunshot, then silence)

Jonesburgh: He... executed him... I... I... I'm not sure what to make of this...

Jon-OH: (a series of soft beeping cell phone noises) Hey, Phil? Yeah... I'm fine thanks how are you?.... Oh good... hey listen, I've got a pretty big mess here. Looks like about 5 gunmen... no they're all human.... yes I realize I'm not a policemen... Yes I know I over stepped my jursidiction again... Look just get a mop up down here please? a number of hostages were involved... Right... yes... no... no... you'll have to find your own T-shirt when you get down here... I'll check them before you get here... roger.

(soft breathing, presumeably from Jonesburgh)

Jon-OH: does anyone have any recording devices that they wish to declair?

Jonesburgh: Oh... I have this tape deck, I was recording the story... (end tape)

I have started a journal...and by "I have" what I really mean is "my character has". It's in my profile. Go. read. Enjoy.