Journal:Jasten Macala
Augest 3rd, 2008
It's been a long time since I wrote. The reason why is because for quite some time now, I've been with the ranks of undead. Well, no longer. During my stint as a zombie, I was revived by a member of the Kilt Store. They were prompt at answering a request my man Jason put in for me. So, I thank both Jason, and the Kilt Store, for their help. As such, I have declared the Kilt Store Staff to be Honorary Brigadiers. As such, they are to be treated with utmost respect by our members, and all rules set down by their staff followed when in their territory. Once I get strong enough to jump from roof to roof, I'm heading down to Nichols Mall, and picking up a kilt from them to thank them for their deeds.
Oh yeah. I formed a group with Jason Howard and Shadow Daniels. We've gotten alot of recruits, and we are going by the name of the Malton Freedom Brigade. We have a fortified stronghold in the middle of the sticks, so the ZOmbies arn't likely to come for us in particularly. Unless, of course, we annoy the hell out of them.
Also, I started a radio show with some of my fellow Brigadiers. Our Radio staff consist of the following:
Me - Host. Jason Howard, Leanne Restark- News Shadow Daniels, Jason Howard - DJ's Sean Macall, Riley Jacobs - Interviewers.
The rest of the staff constist of Reporters and Other positions in the field.
More staff will likely be added when we recieve more members. Also, a great asset to our news teams is our contact outside of Malton. Ted Sprauge, from the U.S, has been feeding us updates on World activity through a secure channel we have set up. He offered to get us transport out of there, but most of us declined. However, a group of people we found the other day were picked up on my orders. There was one girl who Shadow had grown close too while I was gone, who sadly had to go with them. Shadow stayed, albet Reluctantly. So it's all good.
Recently, a Joseph Saffyn helped out Jason down in one of our new broadcasting stations. He has been added to the honorary Brigadier list, along with a man named Vereta, and a woman named Sandra Tyler. They, like the Kilt STore, are to be treated with utmost respect when ever encountered, for they are hospitable beyond compare.
Other then that, our news teams recently forced their way into Ridleybank, to get a first hand look at the Zombie Homeland. So far, the RRF have not found their location, and only a feral zombie wandered in, only to be turned to our cause. Thats how we found Sean Macall.
Untill the RRF finds our news crews down in Ridleybank, I'm going to keep them there. If we can get firsthand information to the public, then my god, I will do whatever it takes to do it.
But thats all I have to write for now. Hopefully, SOme more people will come to our broadcasting station. It's kinda boring with the others in other stations.
July 13th, 2008
I have awokened inside of a graveyard, lying next to another body. Three Zombies are also here, but they made no move to attack me. Because of this, they must be there to be revived. Quite obviously, I must have became a zombie, and revived here as well. More proof to this is the empty syringe that I found next to me with the Necrotech insignia on it. Whomever revived me, I thank you.
I have made my way from the cemetary. I headed north west, and stumbled upon the ruined Fort Creedy. Despite having heard of it being overran, my curiosity was overwelming. I walked around the Fort, and found the gatehouse. At the entrance, I found another survivor, who told me he was about to raid it. I was supprised, but offered him my help. He accepted it, and together, we snuck our way in. We made our way to the back of the ZFort, were the Armory was. When we broke in, he cleaned up the wreakage, set up a generator, and closed the doors. He then set up a radio transmitter. I asked him what he was doing, but he didn't respond.
I became suspicious, and as I hoarded the shotguns and pistols I had found, I heard the racking of a slide. I spun around, only to be met by the sight of the man pulling the trigger. It hit me squarly in the chest, the force bringing me off the ground. I hit the ground with a small oomph, and tried to draw a handgun. As I struggeled to get one out of it's holster, I saw him smile, and open the doors. A zombie walked in, and it seemed to know who he was. It lumbered past, bit me, and then walked out. I looked at the bite wound in pain, and I noticed it was infected.
The man closed the doors, then walked back to me. He pulled the trigger again, hitting me in the leg. By now, I was supprised the zombie hadn't attacked him too, or killed me. He grinned at me, and started talking over the radio. I guess he was reporting it to whomever. HE walked out with out another word, and only as he left did I notice the three words ingraved on his back: The Gore Corps
As I write this last paragraph, my strength is seeping. That damn RRF death CUltist injured me to much, and this bite is beginning to fester. I know I'm going to die, but I hope when I do, I head to a revive point like last time, rather then hunting survivors. Even now, my hand writing is becomming harder to read-
July 12th, 2008
Tonight was terrible! In my sleep, a group of around 5 zombies burst into our hiding place within the Isgar Museum. When I woke up, I found multiple claw marks up and down my body, a bite mark on my shoulder, and a group of zombies feasting on MasterCheefSuck's body! I would have wept then, had the group turned their evil eyes towards me, and began to approch. I ran up the nearby stairs, leading into a exibit emptied of most of it's paintings. They followed me up the stairs however, and cornered me inside a room with a peaked cap of a museum staff member. I grabbed the cap, and placing it on my head, turned to the zombies, and let loose a barrage of rounds from my hand gun into the group. I killed one with a lucky shot, and wounded at least two of the others. However, they were no match for me, and, with a parting pistol whip to the face of the lead zombie, I took a leap of faith from the window, landing in the grass below the window.
I layed there, blinking the stars from my eyes. When my vision cleared, I saw the infernal demons staring at me from the window. They turned to go down the stairs, and I stood and hobbled off on a injured leg. However, despite my flight, I was tired, and weary. The injuries had begun to take a toll on me, and I was slowing up. Finally, I collapsed outside the Tilly Row Police Department, about four or five blocks from the museum. This is were I lay now, sitting on the steps, writing this report. I tried to get in, but alas, the door is extremly heavily barricaded, and without the skill to reach it from a nearby roof, I cannot get inside. I can see lights, and I called out, but no one came. I hope that I can get inside soon. Somebody should take pity on me. I know it!
Damn, the pain is becoming unbearable. And for some reason, I keep getting this urge to bite myself. I hunger, and it's uncontrollable. I need.... Meat. I'm craving human flesh! What is wrong with me? No, I can't let this happen! I can't ke ep wrr itin-g anynore-
July 11th, 2008
I am currently stationed in the Isgar Museum in the suburb of Pegton. I have recently met up with fellow survivor, MasterCheefSucks, and have formed a stable alliance with him. Hopefully, I will be able to stay alive long enough to maintain a suitable home for him and myself to return to in the event of our death. My love of art is obvious within our hideout. I am carring with myself two paintings, while the Museum itself currently is decorated with at least two paintings of the most perfect nature. I just wish the zombies had as much appreciation of fine art as myself. They broke in last night, and tried to splatter my brains all over the Van Gough Piece in the corner. My Mozart was nearly ruined as well.
I've noticed a rise in zombie activity outside our stronghold. Yesterday, I saw a mass of literally 75 zombies lurch past our building. Luckily, the Isgar was at extremely heavily barricaded, and the zombies left it. Except for those few stragllers that tried to eat my work, it was fine.
MasterCheefSucks has been somewhat quiet. He's been asleep when I'm awake, and vice versa, so we havn't had much time to talk. Hopefully he doesn't leave me. It would become boring without anyone, even if they don't speak much. However, he's stayed for awhile now, so perhaps he likes art as much as myself?
Either way, with Fort Creedy down, I'm not sure were to go. A few buildings had survivors, but most wer'nt exactly active. I found a person who'd been MIA for about a year now. Or rather, they found us. However, this was when I was asleep, so I was unable to conduct any conversation with the fine man. I wonder if he'll come back. At least he left us a gift of a painting.
If I can't find more survivors by tommorow's end, I'm going to bring to rise a group started by a man named Kane, that goes by the name of the Brotherhood of Nod. Apparently, most of the group was killed by zombies.
"Hanh zah nahm ah Ghaan! - In the name of Kane!
Apparently, some zombies are former members of the Brotherhood of Nod. It would be more correctly said as "Ahn Ghaanz nahm," however this could be a dialectical representation."
Because of this, I feel the need to revive this group, which, according to a book I found in a nearby library the night of my arrival, was a very powerful guerilla warfare based organization, with some ties with terrorism. However, it appears that this terrorism was actually U.S. Based, and actually a U.S. operated organization. If this is true, I can enjoy relitive peace when attempting to ally with military groups, however, if they choose to let me ally with them is their own decision. Here's to hoping I won't even have to deal with this by finding more survivors.
As of now, there is nothing more to write. Once I regain more fuel for my generator, I'll be able to broadcast news through my channel: 28.01
