User:FyunchClick
ShacknewsHorde member.
Turn Ons:
Brains, opening skulls to get to brains, the little nubbly bits at the bottom of the skull, orangeheads.
Turn Offs:
Empty skulls, the dead silence of a cemetary, unevolved harmanz.
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This is ZNN! |
| This user is a reporter of The Zombie News Network. |
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Remember, Remember the 10th of November |
| This user or group commemorates the idiots who gave a free meal to the undead in Chudleyton / Darvall Heights by gathering in Caiger Mall to be eaten. On the 10th of November, the zombies choked the heart of Malton by ransacking Caiger Mall / BARHAH Mall. Death to the humans, and with it, humiliation! |
Following the Horde: An insider's account of the rise and life of the Shacknews Horde
This is a fictionalized account of the birth and life of the the Shacknews Horde within the game of Urban Dead. All opinions expressed are not the official views of the Shacknews Horde nor of anyone else for that matter.
The Horde Amasses
"Shhh, they're close," the squat man hissed to the young kid at his side. They were crouched behind a mound of rubble, peering at an assemblage of zombies, beating on the doors of a Necrotech building down the street. After a few moments, the assembled zombies broke the door in, and after entering there was a background cacophany of gunshots, screams and growls.
"Back to the safehouse. Now." whispered the elder of the two. With that they quietly made their way back to the school 2 blocks north.
After barricading the schoolroom they used as a base and eating some cold canned beans, they began to discuss what they had been observing:
"There's over 15 of them now, unlike the others we've seen they seem to be coordinating their attacks somehow. You saw them all stand at once and then begin to beat the doors as one. This doesn't bode well...." murmured the old man.
He thought again back to the fateful day when he decided to stay and observe the phenomenon of the walking dead. Now, after almost 2 years, even if he could escape Malton, who would believe the results of his findings? The Military? They shot people trying to leave the Containment Zone. The media? Not bloody likely, unless it was to a tabloid rag. Academia? They'd laugh at him and revoke his tenure. Nothing for him outside of Malton, at least here he was doing what he spent his early years training for and then teaching to students.
He sighed and returned to the days findings. "OK, kid, the crowd by the Darnell building is growing. Unlike the other groups we have observed, this group is behaving differently from the other groups we have seen:
1. They attack as one, almost as if they communicate with each other. 2. They are silent, until they feed. 3. After feeding, those that haven't been headshot, pull back to an abandoned building and rest there. 4. They are growing in number. They've gone from 5 to 15 in less than 3 days, more come in every day, the feral types we've observed move on, yet the ones that stay all seem to share the same characteristics shown by the existing group."
He pulled his blanket closer around him, looked at the kid and sighed. The boy had fallen asleep.
"Alright kid, I'll take first watch." The kid needed his rest, he just hoped the boy's nightmares didn't continue. Understandable though, having your tongue ripped from your mouth would scar anyone. Unfortunately the noises the boy made attracted zombies. And the old man had to finish his research. Well as long as the kid could scrounge food and remain useful he was welcome. If he became a liability, well there were options there as well.
The Gathering Storm
"Get up kid...they're moving again," the old man nudged the boy with his toe. With a start the kid opened his eyes and looked around furtively.
The zombies outside the nearby Necrotech started shambling down the street, the numbers had grown. The old man did a quick headcount and jotted it down on a clipboard: 35. Up from 20 the day before. All of them meeting at the Darnell Building. Why? What was it about the place that attracted this seeming new subspecies of the walking dead? A matter to be considered later. The subjects were moving.
From the second floor window, the pair watched the shambling, stuttering gait of the group as they moved down the street, as if they were in a parade. They almost shuffled in time with one another. Yet another oddity in their behavior. But aside from the footsteps they moved silently.
They moved towards a building with a radio mast on it, waited until all were there and then almost as one, commenced their attack. Watching through binoculars, the attack followed a similar pattern, one that appeared different from the other zombie attacks he'd observed: 2-4 zombies concentrated on demolishing the barricades, while the rest waited, swaying patiently until the barricades fell. The rest of the zombies then flooded the building with typical results. Cries of pain, screams of agony and then silence punctuated with the occasional snap and crunch of bone.
Then they would emerge, blood and gore covering the chests and chins of the walking dead, and they would move off as one, disappearing into the dusk. The old man checked his watch: again they attacked at 6pm. There was a pattern here, one that needed to be monitored.
