| The Birth of The Republic
In the beginning there was nothing. The void gaped empty in perfect
silence. Then, in a brief flash of the divine, some dormant ember, some
spark ignited and in that moment life itself was born.
Life brought many things with it: Emotion, passion, the eyes of the artist,
the soul of the poet. But not all that came was good. Life brought War,
Famine, Pestilence and then, that last grim horseman, Death. Life is
finite, death is eternal: That is how it was supposed to be: Each life a
brief noise before return to the eternal silence.
But it is not for mere men to reckon with the secrets of the universe;
there was something else to come and so it did. Life ended and then
rose again, changed. The dead walked. A new era was born from the
ashes of imperfect life and death. The beauty of life merged with
the perfect certainty of death to mould a new way: Unlife. No painful
birth, no mewling infancy, no corrupt living and no eternal silence,
but rather the purity of the undead.
Then came the hunger. Then the need to spread the joy of unlife. So
onward the pioneers shambled, seeking life to destroy and renew so
that life could rise again like the Phoenix in perfect beauty.
We are the pure.
We are the way.
We are the light and the dark.
We are Pluto ascending.
We are the Phoenix reborn.
And we are coming to make you just like us.
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| The Republic Of Arkham
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| Who We Are
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Arkham's answer to the harman problem
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| Group Numbers
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Low, but growing by the day...
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| Goals
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To unify the Arkham suburbs and bring unlife to the humans of the south-west.
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| Recruitment Policy
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Join us at our Forum
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| Want to contact us?
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Message our Talk Page or Forum
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A Vision of The Present
The centre and north of Malton are ablaze. The survivor citadel of Caiger Mall is under perpetual assault. The zombie homeland of Ridleybank is a ruined wasteland, scarcely troubled by life. Other suburbs are filled with zombies feeding on human flesh, creating new unlife from the wretched failure of life and death.
But in the south-west it is different. The south-west teems with the plague of humanity. Their backwards ways hold sway, barely challenged by the superior forces of the undead. The small groups of zombies groan and sway helpless before the barricades; dazed by headshot after headshot. Our people starve whilst their food lurks safe in powered buildings; smug in the knowledge of their safety.
It does not have to be this way.
A Vision of The Future
Zombies of Malton, let not your suffering zetheren starve and fall in vain. Let not the infestation of humanity sit secure in their apathy. Let us unite the small, scattered zombie forces of the south-west. Let us join together into an army of savage ferocity and power. Let us drag humanity kicking and screaming into the glory of undeath! Divided we fall, but united we will stand and crush the enemy, destroy their safehouses, conquer their suburbs and feast upon their flesh.
The war starts in New Arkham. All zombies in the south-west, heed our call and come bearing your might. Stand shoulder-to-shoulder with your zetheren and fight to take the land which is ours by right!
First we will take New Arkham for our own. Then we shall take Old Arkham to unite the two Arkham suburbs into one mighty zombie republic. A shining beacon in the endless night to which all our kind can flock. A place where humans fear ever to tread. A place where our young can be fed, safe from barricades and headshots. And then, once our glorious Republic of Arkham is established? From there the future is ours, zetheren. From there we can take it all.
Join the feast.
Join your zetheren.
Join the Republic.
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Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
W. B. Yeats, 'The Second Coming'.
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