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Good mmmmmmmmorning Ridleybank!
This is the cogitating cadaver, the deliberating decedent, the Plato of putrescence, the ruminating remains of what little grand erudition stood in this banana-hole town prior to the Great Awakening (what the respiration-inclined have dishearteningly designated 'The Outbreak'): the Mouth of Malton!
Today's broadcasts begins with a question and hopefully closes with an answer to yourself and to the just and burning spirits of truth, rationality and Barhah.
I pose, to those minute, warm-blooded communities who huddle, fruitlessly, against the a-shivering cold and dark of the Maltonian winter within the glorious gray borders of our Ridleybank, this inquiry:
Why do you claw against the lid of your own coffins? Why is it you continue this utterly hopeless struggle against the will of the Horde? Just as the black fog of winter wraps his icy claws around each building, each concrete monument, each tomb of Malton's hideous, harman past, so will the fist of the horde throttle every last remnant of harmanity. Each day, my respiring friends, you struggle against the unstoppable wave that is the Horde, against the cold, against sickness, starvation and even each other! Why not embrace the warm, orgastic release of death? Life is fleeting, a moment lost in a stream moments, but death is eternal! Find solace in that.
After all, you are all so near the precipice. Is this life you struggle in? Or is it survival? What oasis is found in survival? Mad, militant survivalists, the overbearing arrogance of Necrotech researchers, the very who laid this brave new world upon you, the predatory former-police, wicked, abusive dogs now unchained of responsibility: these are the overlords of your shadow of a life.
The horde offers you unlife, free of fear, of want for the illusory and unattainable, free to be, wholly, one's self. There is no race amongst the Horde, that mercurial and baseless wall harmanz place between themselves and their own brothers and sisters. Nor ethnicity, nor nationality, nor religion, nor class nor any of the more material concepts exist within the Horde. You exist only as one of the zetheren, one unique drop within the sea of the Horde. Only when you realize our sameness can you embrace your individuality. Life, harmanity, creates nothing but barriers... barricades to our own self-realization! Join us, and together we can tear down these barricades to ourselves!
Well, that's all the time I have this morning. Remember, children, if you see a needle: tell, don't touch! Together we can keep Ridleybank drug-free. May Barhah be your warmth in the darkness.
Excursion II: Son of Excursion
Deep Movie Voice In a world where zombies have pasty, rotting skin; the tanning bed is king.
Zombie Brang mah dannan-bahd!
Deep Movie Voice But this quest for a tanning bed is no ordinary quest for a tanning bed.
Younger Zombie Mah zambah anna ahgzarzahn!
Deep Movie Voice Now playing in South Blythville....
Zombie Banana Gangbang!
Deep Movie Voice The movie AND tanning event of the century.
Younger Zombie Mah zambah z namrh harmanz!
Deep Movie Voice Excursion II: Son of Excursion. Rated R. Coming to a suburb near you...
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Better Know A Group: Group Zero
Well, we've covered a lot of strike teams in our time at the Malton Herald & Sun, but what about the greater horde? Those shambling zombies who crack open buildings and groan to alert other zombies. Those zombies who level entire suburbs at a time. Who is it that leads them? Good question, and it leads us to Part 1 in our one part series, "Better Know a Horde."
Group 0: The Fightin' Group! Shambling through Malton one suburb at a time, this group has always struck terror into the hearts of harmanz. And despite a recent downturn in horde numbers, it's thriving again under Excursion II: Son of Excursion. And who leads this horde? Well, it's none other than the Malton Herald & Sun's own Deathbymoshpit. We recently had a chance to sit down with Mr. Moshpit in South Blythville. Here's what he had to say.
MH&S:You've been tasked to carry on the tradition of the RRF's great roving horde. What are your goals for Group 0?
DBM: Well I don’t know how good a job I could have been doing if since my ‘coup des grace’ , the numbers in Group 0 fell to an all-time low. But this is good. Now I can rebuild the horde in my own demented image. No sympathy, no limits, no stopping us. I plan to rebuild faith in the horde. We have a history of being the mob mentality of the RRF, and I plan to use that effectively to tear Malton apart.
MH&S:The rise and fall of Shacknews has reinforced a trend amongst zombies to be more and more organized. How has this impacted the life of the shambling horde?
DBM: Well the horde has always had rudimentary organization. We work on a freedom basis. The leader would suggest the most palpable targets for the horde to attack, but the ferals were always free to post their own finds. But I believe organization is the key now more than ever with the arduous task ahead of rebuilding the horde.
MH&S:It has been established that you are a Canadian. How does your corpse not freeze solid during the long winter months, eh?
DBM: It has a lot to do with the Canadian beer. Little known fact: Canadian beer actually contains trace amounts of anti-freeze, so we can stand the cold winters. And in death that helps a lot. Though congealed, the anti-freeze must have seeped into my putrid flesh by now, so its win-win. While the rest of the horde will freeze, the Canadians can run the show. We’ve adapted.
MH&S: Wow. Sounds even more fun than Chinese formaldahyde beer. You are known to be quite the zombie photographer. Do you have any favorite works you wish to share with us?
DBM: Nothing at the moment. Been too busy with the University shite to have any fun with the photoshop. Hmm. I did have some ideas in mind. I should really have something out soon which I was thinking aboutaround Barhahmas.
MH&S: You are known as one of the more firey and passionate leaders of the RRF. Where did this great passion for destroying harmanity come from?
DBM: I believe it all started when I was a youngling, and had all the hopes and dreams of the world on my back. Then I moved into the real world and found everything to be a lie. Everything I was taught, everything I was told to believe in, it’s all a false charade. Because harmanity insists on perpetuating this lie, and does not instil the truth in us from a young age, I have made it my task…nay…my DUTY to exterminate them from the face of this planet. That is why I offered my soul to the undead. They never lied to me, they never sent me on tasks I could never achieve; that I was doomed to fail in. Only when I embraced the cold clutches of the grave did I realize the full extent of the misery the fleshies exist in.
Also, I attribute my fireyness to the music I listen to while travelling around town. Nothing makes harmans taste better than listening to some Dark Funeral, Naglfar, or Emperor. Of course, Cannibal Corpse and White Zombie add some nice imagery to the situation. I tend to switch over to those during mall sieges. So anyone who’s near Marven Mall in South Blythville, just follow the distant sounds of Cannibal Corpse classics such as “Under the Rotted Flesh”, “Scattered Remains, Splattered Brains”, and my personal favourite “Unleashing the Bloodthirsty”. Oh, and one more thing, heavy metal doesn’t encourage the violence; it enhances it.
MH&S: Wholeheartedly agreed. Final question... Papa Patrucio: Great Papa or Greatest Papa?
DBM: Well what defines the quality of greatness? Who is to decide what elevates one leader above another? Where are the praises of all the former leaders who led us to victory? Am I just asking questions to avoid giving a straight answer? The answer to these questions and more…the next time I’m interviewed.
As always my children, in the words of the almighty Manowar, Hail and Kill….
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