Campbell “Legion” Wood, 43, born June 17th


State President for the Risen Dead MC. Earns his known income from an auto body and specialty motorcycle customization business.


Immediately after the disasters strike, Legion enacts a years-long plan to start amassing all of the 1% Bikers in Washington State at his compound. He sends two of his most trusted brothers to go rescue one of their own from McNeil Island, while also trying to broker a temporary piece with the other ethnic gangs. He knows it will be a few short weeks before Law Enforcement is completely gone.


To become the dominant gang, not just in the biker world, but all criminal enterprises.


To ramp up meth cooking for when all the heroine and coke runs out.


He has trust issues that have never failed him, but he is desperate to grow his army.


That nobody’s luck holds out forever.


Legion is the State president of the worst Outlaw Motorcycle Club in the state. They mainly cook meth, but they also dabble in gun-running, which they barter for heroine from the Brothers.

They have a club-house in the neighborhood north of Pacific Raceways. Legion owns a legit, but small auto-body shop that specializes in hot-rods and motorcycles. It is a largely cash business that helps him launder money. The club house is in the back-half of the otherwise industrial type structure.

After the hammer, he had some people go kidnap a ham operator and his wife who he knew was in the neighborhood. Legion has some prospects monitoring the airwaves constantly. He’s got several goals: learn what is going on with law enforcement; state response; other gangs; and rescue Sticky from McNeil Island.

One of his biggest operations early on is having everyone bring their families to the club house. He has the kidnapped ham and prospects trying to find out anything from the chapters in Tacoma and Everett. The bulk of his club and the supporting clubs start to trickle in at about the time their distributors start to get rolled by thieves and other gangs. Legion brokers a temporary piece with most of the other ethnic gangs, but he becomes concerned when none of the Spanish gangs show up. He eventually learns of a large, Mexican cartel moving into the area—a group so big that the police and National Guard were no match for them.


6’ 2” muscular but with a whiskey gut. Graying, but brown wavy hair, keeps it mid-length. Brown eyes.


Smart, but impatient with his prospects, he has the deep, husky voice of a big man who has lived a hard life.


Lives north of the Raceway.