User:Franz Molotov

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Commisar of the Creedy Guerilla Raiders

Franz Molotov was an agent of the underground Comitern. He was sent to malton to gather intel on the Zombies and see if they could be of use to the cause. His secondary objective was to ensure that the group which dominated the city after the zombie plague passed was sympathetic to the cause of the Proletariat. After being dropped in crowbank, he helped to defend a police station against an oncoming horde of zombies. All the while everyone inside hoped for the CDF to come and save them. They never did. Franz fled the PD as the zombies devoured the last of the survivors. He made his way to Fort Creedy because he had heard the frantic and hopeful stories the survivors told and hoped to find a group that championed the people. When he arrived, however this illusion was dispelled. He immediately had visions of the Berlin of 1939 and shuddered as the CDF forced allegiance from survivors nearby. Franz immediately left and wandered back towards Edgecomb. On his way he saw a man spray painting "The CDF has failed us all! Join the CGR!" Franz immediately recognized this as his opportunity to stand beside a group dedicated to crushing the fascist menace. That man was BenzinDevil and ever since that day Franz Molotov has been a dedicated freedom fighter in the Creedy Guerilla Raiders. After Benzin Devil's tragic death he has taken on the responsibilities of leading the Creedy Guerilla Raiders. Franz has took up Benzin's epulats and carried the fight on to a new day. The CGR grew powerful with the guidance of Franz. Eventually, he grew weary and began spending more and more time in the sleep of death. The growth of the CGR allowed Franz to step back and allow those who would want to lead do so. He now stands as a senior officer and exists only for the slaughter of Fascists and the preservation of the CGR. When asked if he would ever retire, Molotov said this in response, "I will remain a Soldier until the war is won."

Generalofthecgr5wi.gif Pic.jpg A rendition of Franz done by a friend of the Raiders

Sgpicon1.gif Sacred Ground Policy Supporter
This user or group supports the Sacred Ground Policy and acknowledges that all Cemeteries in the city of Malton are considered Revivification Points.
Gavel.jpg War Crimes
Franz Molotov has been accused of War Crimes
Red Mage.gif Roleplaying Notice
Notice: This User or Group enjoys the RPG aspect of MMORPGs, the category of games that Urban Dead falls into. As such, there is probably quite a bit of roleplaying and/or creative writing on this page and in said User/Group's in-game actions. In other words, if you think the difference between IC and OOC is "One has an 'I' and the other has two 'O's," buzz off.

This user or group is associated with The PKer Alliance
Fascism.gif Fascists
This user or group hates fascists and will do everything in their power to feed them to the zombies.
Soviet.png Not One Step Back, Comrades!
This user thinks that the Soviet Union was awe-inspiring during WWII
Rat-ah-tat-tat.jpg Here, have a rat!
Lachryma has given Franz Molotov a rat for stealing templates and being cool.
Idesofmarch.jpg CAVETE IDES MARTIAE!
This User or Group Participated In The Ides Of March Killings In Ackland Mall
MMA.JPG Malton Murder Award Nominee
This User or Group has been nominated by the general populace for engaging with in the murderous ways of Malton. Be sure to vote here for your choice by 23.00 GMT on the 15th!
CGR.jpg Welcome to the Resistance!
Creedy Guerrilla Raiders. Where everybody's an insurgent.
Medalofhonor.jpg Big Shiny Medal
Secruss has given Franz Molotov a big shiny medal for fighting cunningly, hard, and long against the CGR's many enemies.
Kenny.gif The PKers got Kenny!
Oh my God! You killed Kenny! You bastard!
CGR.jpg Welcome to the Resistance!
Creedy Guerrilla Raiders.
Where everybody's an insurgent.
Rat-ah-tat-tat.jpg Rat Tactics
Survive. Revive. Thrive.

The auto biography of Franz Molotov

My First Kill

"I had been trained for some timeto kill. When I was younger, my parents and I fled our native Bosnia to Moscow. It wast there that I became a teenager and as many teenagers do, I sought a place to belong. That was when the men with the red stars spoke to me. They we're the remnants of the Comitern. The Soviet Union had collapsed, but the agents of Communisn were far from beaten. They promised me fellowship and all the things in life I hadn't had. That is when my training began. I left school at the end of the day and went to their headquarters. There, in the basement of the old concrete building, I learned skill with a firearm. I learned where to shoot a man. I also learned of the corruption that seethes within the world. After I had finished my training, the outbreak in Malton occurred.The Comitern heard of the beasts that roamed the streets and wanted to assess their value to the cause. They also realized that the survivors would be battle hardened and that any force that took control of the city would be a force to be reckoned with after the outbreak was contained. The Comitern wished to ensure that anyone who took control would be sympathetic to the plight of the proletariat and would not harbor fascist ideals. I volunteered and was on way. The helicopter dropped me in Crowbank. It was there that I met the creatures and found them to be of no use to the cause. I also heard of Fort Creedy and the Creedy Defense Force. They sounded as though they were good men with the interests of the people at heart and so I traveled to the fort. When I arrived I had a vision of the Berlin of 1939. I knew these men to be fascists.

On my return journey, I found a man spraying a wall with, " THE CDF HAS FAILED YOU! JOIN THE CGR!" That man was Benzindevil. I spoke with him and joined the Creedy Guerrilla Raiders. A week later was our first major attack on the fort. It was being besieged by zombies and we wished to capitalize on the event. I rushed into the fort and identified a member of the CDF. He was firing at a handful of zombies that had broken in. He was Londonxf. I raised my shotgun and emptied a few rounds into his chest. He spitting blood as he lay on the ground, mumbling,"Why did you shoot me?" I finished him and turned on another. I felt wonderful! I felt like a hero. I was freeing the people of Malton from a Fascist Plague with every kill. Eversince, I have been a Guerrilla Raider."

My First Death

After my first kill, I hid in an auto repair shop and slept for until my muscles quit aching as the adrenalin drained from them. I awoke a few hours later to my radio screeching. It was BenzinDevil with orders to rally in a warehouse in the neighboring suburb. I dragged myself up and began crawling through the barricades. I emerged to a cloudy afternoon. The weather discouraged me often here. I looked about and saw no hostiles; zombie or otherwise and proceeded to run and climb along the tightly clustered buildings. It was a skill I had picked up just before I joined the raiders. I learned it as I was fleeing crowbank. Thoughts returned of that dark and dilapidated police station. The death cries in the night of the random breakins returned as I heard the occasional feral grabing a bite. This was not a good day. I had too many emotions and had exerted myself too much. My mind needed rest. I arrived at the warehouse and slithered inside through a ventilation duct. Everyone was there. I saw Benzin speaking with Rosenrot in a corner. Crossdressor bob was doing his makeup in the broken side view mirror he must of found somewhere. I remember Peter was huddled in a corner trying to sleep, yet he'd jerk awake at every footstep any of us took. I settled in and slept nestled snuggly between two oil drums and the wall.I had wrapped myself in a fine very comfortable blanket I found in an apartment building I took shelter in while fleeing crowbank. It was a fine blanket. The exterior of the blank was a course canvas. The edges sewn to the interior of the blanket with bits of bungee cord. The interior was a layer of curtain sewn to the exterior on one side and on the other was a rough quilt made of old T-shirts. The whole thing was filled with a fine layer of shredded carpet padding. It was a very comfortable blanket and I wondered why it had been left behind. I awoke to shouting and weapons being made ready to fire. I man walked over to my vicinity and pointed a shotgun at me. "Stand up! Put your hands behind your head!" This man wore strange bondage clothing and seemed as though he had adjusted too well to the infestation. I later learned that this man was Cult. He would be my nemesis for some time. I stared in wonder around me. I saw peter being shoved of towards a window by two soldiers. The darkness was heavy and it was hard to discern who else was there. Attention suddenly flashed towards Benzin. He had made an attempt to snatch his pistol from the bedroll he had made. I man dressed oddly as a farmer in blue jean overalls screamed "He's got a gun!" and then the firing began. I remember the first blast. It was fiery and piercing, however the subsequent blast are a blur. Blackness consumed me and death came. Undeath followed. my eyes opened to a blurred vision. I rose and my mind was oddly clear. For a moment I fumbled with my blanket and backpack. My hands were like sandbags pinned to my shoulders. I grew angry, balled everything together and roughly slung my arms threw it. as I did that I felt a sharp pain in the back of my neck. It was a Necrotech syringe plunged home by one of our allies, Zombie Up. I collapsed and then I felt peace. I later marveled at the clarity that death brought. I found it soothing eventually. Later, I came to welcome death and it's peace. It was then that I also, quit sleeping with bedrolls and such. The fine blanket I had scavenged was covered in gore. Gore that had one time been my entrails. None of my other deaths stand out like this one. Something inside me changed. To this day all the deaths blend together. All of them except my first.