User:MeghanLynn/Eir's Journal
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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. |
| Eir | ||||||||||
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The Beginning
I slowly crack open my eyes. Something warm and sticky is running down the side of my head. I felt weak, tired. I felt like I couldnt move, my head was spinning. My eyes finally adjusted to the dark, and I saw possibly the worst thing you could ever wake up to. A zombie, just one of the many undead that now roam the streets of my town, was standing over me with a crowbar. I frantically felt around me, and felt relieved as my fingers closed around the leather handle of my trusted fire axe. With a grunt I lunged my body forward, swinging my axe and burying it deep into the zombies head. The zombie muttered a confused "Mrh?" and then fell to the ground. I looked around to see many of my comrads, my brothers, my friends lying on the floor. Only few were alive. I quickly took care of the remaining zombies, along with the help of the few other concious surivors. After we had rebarricaded our building, I turned my attention fully onto my friends. After saying goodbye and praying that went to a good place, I dumped the bodies of the dead outside, and leaned the wounded up against the walls. This was it, the end. I was tired of just sitting around and waiting for the undead to attack us. I leaned up against a wall in the corner, blood still flowing evenly from a wound to my head. I sharpened my axe with a broken piece of rock, and forced myself to be confident and determined. The few surviving friends that I had, along with my leadership, were going to protect this town.
We called ourselves Ragnarok, which is the final battle in Norse mythology.
The Journal
November 29th, 2006
I found this journal lying in an abandoned factory while searching for a few extra fuel cans. The pages were blank and the black leather cover were stained with blood. Whose? Im not sure.
A lot has happened since my group of survivors has formed. I am glad I now found a means of preserving the events, forever to be remembered.
There is now over ten of us, Ragnarok. We gladly pick up whoever wants to join. Firepower is a very good thing. Ive also found a new co leader. He seems very experienced in the art of hunting the undead, and he has all ready proven himself to be a valuable addition to Ragnarok. His name is Vic.
As I write this down, I am held up in Pashenton, in an old Necrotech building called the Woolven Building. A few of Ragnarok are in here with me, as well as a few members from our allies group, BOW. We are attempting to hold a revive point at Stringer street, but it is proving difficult. The zeds are fully aware of what we are doing, and have been attacking us with everything they've got, smashing at our barricades and dragging our survivors into the streets. We will have to step things up and act smart if we expect anything to last.
December 3rd, 2006
I have not been able to write. A few days ago a horde of the undead managed to smash our barricades enough to make their way into the Woolven building. We fought hard, but several of us were killed, along with myself. Our generator and radio tower were both smashed, and I rose as one of the undead outside in the streets. Thankfully, one of Ragnarok saw what happened, and James Dehn came to my rescue with a syringe. I woke this morning, stiff, yet a human again. I quickly made my way into the Woolven building, which had been attacked again. The doors were left wide open with dead bodies inside. With the help of BOW, we got the building back up. And now, things are calm as I sit in a dark corner of the building, writing this. The snored of resting survivors a few rooms away reach my ears, and for some reason, it makes me smile. Knowing that while together, us small gaggle of survivors could feel safe and comfortable with each other enough to sleep. Its times like these people have to learn to trust each other fully, if they want to survive.
December 21st, 2006
I've been busy. Ive learned the art of reviving and it has kept me busy, turning my fallen comrads and allies into the living once more. Vic has decided to lead a small portion of the group to his hometown, Dulston, and I have decided to go with. I think I may be of some help. We have claimed a theater in the north east side of the suburb as our HQ, and we will hopefully soon be organized. As I write this, there is all ready a small portion of Ragnarok here waiting. Vic, I believe it restocking in the mall. I have no need.
If its one thing I've learned throughout all of this, its that a blade needs no reloading.
I am worried about this place. Vic has history here, friends, and yet, more enemies. Ive heard of another gang of survivors, dangerous, and apparantly out of their minds. They attack their own kind. Its just not natural, and I pray that I will not have to take a surviving human life, but whatever it comes down to, Im ready.
