User talk:Lex Roberts

Pilots Log: September 22, 2006 I have been here near two weeks and have entered not a single thing in my log. I cannot say exactly how long it has been as I truly do not know. A day here feels as if it is an eternity. In any event, I must recap my progress since arriving in this God forsaken wasteland of a city. I was on a supply drop with my platoon. Simple job. Land, drop the crates, deliver FAK's, Ammo, NT Supplies, and armaments. When we landed we were ambushed by a horde of zombies. The chopper was destroyed and is beyond repair. The horde took each of us down, but somehow we were all able to stand back up. I must have been the last since I was alone when I awoke. I remember it all in vivid horrifying detail. Those SOB's had turned me, and probably my company into one of them. I wandered the streets lashing out at any zeds who crossed my path. After days I arrived in a place called Molebank, at the Farrent Monument was where I sat against the statue, praying for some type of help, aid, anything. For days I sat in despair. Only moving to feed on what I could find. Unfortunately what I could find consisted entirely of rotted food and zed flesh. After some days a platoon arrived at the monument. One of them stepped up to me. I felt he would kill me. Fine. Any release from this prison would do, I thought. He brought out a needle, and stabbed me in the neck. What pain I could feel knocked me cold. In the morning when I woke I found myself warm. Once again I could feel, breathe, think. I was human. It was a miracle. The monument said it was for the Knights of St. Jude. I thought it fitting anyways. Using my life I ran to the nearest safe house; the Burrel Way Police Department. I collapsed among the survivors and fell asleep. That was the end of my first day, born anew.

Pilots Log: September 23, 2006 A new day dawns in Malton, and I am alive. The BWPD houses some 50 odd survivors, and the barricades are strong. I searched and found what weaponry I could. Shotgun here, pistol there. As I am in a safe suburb the amount of zeds is small, and I have little to no way of helping these unfortunate and damned souls. I realize I have ammo to spare, for a time at least. But should I or another survivor become ill I have no way of helping them or myself. I set off in search of FAK's in the SE, inside St. Elisabeth's Hospital. There is a small survivor base here, and they offer what help they can. But mostly they keep to themselves, and like me, await the next day in Dante's Playground.

Pilots Log: September 24, 2006 I awake again. Upon doing so I searched the floors of the hospital. Much to my joy I discovered a trove of FAK's. Now I have nearly enough to heal as many survivors that need assisstance as I can. Today was short, spent wandering the streets searching for vengeance, my comrades, and any way of escaping this hellhole. Finding none I retired again to St. Elisabeth's, awaiting another day, and a new dawn.

Pilots Log: September 25, 2006 This mission seems bleaker by the day. I don't know how the others can stand it. I found enough FAK's to last me for awhile, grabbed as many as I could carry, and headed out into the wasteland again. I came across a local fire station and crawled in through the barricades to see what supplies I could loot. The two men there gave me no notice, and so I moved on, after finding a fire axe and a portable radio. I was hopeful until I saw that it was one way, receiving only. It wouldn't be of much help communicating. But maybe some of my platoon had ways to get a message out. I can only hope at this point. It's the only certainty in my life. Hope. I made my way back to the BWPD and entered to find the same crowd, and some extra survivors as well. It had changed since I left. Now there was a radio tower set up complete with portable generator. It really was a stronghold in this hellhole. I talked around, asking who may be ill and in need of medical help. Nobody was injured, and some were already tended to, but I did learn some valuable information. Some of the others here are pilots as well. Some even with a military background. I can use them. Maybe we can work together somehow to get ourselves out of this mess. The sooner the better. As for now, I'm exhausted. My pack is heavy and my radio is tuned to the broadcast tower. Hopefully I'll make some contact with my friends. If not, I fear triage may be my only choice. Cut and run. I feel dirty just thinking about the prospect. But if it must be done, it must be done.

Pilots Log: September 26, 2006 Finally I feel as though I can help these people. I have healed my new friends, and even taken on some more zeds with my recently acquired fire axe. Now it seems I am back in the swing of things. I am on mission. A new one. Survive. And if I must go, take every poor soul who calls himself a zed with me. But there is also troubling news. We here talk of a massive horde headed for the BHPD. If it is true, in one weeks time we shall be overrun. By then I plan to already be gone. Maybe to this mall I keep hearing about. They say it is the only true point of light for the survivors. That it alone withstood a zombie horde amassed by the thousands while the rest of Malton was overrun. So that is my deadline. In one weeks time, two if I am lucky. I move out. Toward the last bastion of survivor hope, pride, and prowess. In two weeks time, I head for the place that is called Caiger.

Pilots Log: September 27, 2006 Today was filled with much to do. Many people in the BWPD needed assisstance, as zzed activity increases and Molebank becomes more dangerous. But nearly 20 FAK's later we seem to be allright once again. I prepare for my trip to Caiger, not much to write other than that. Hopefully it will be uneventful for the next few weeks and I can hunt and heal as the situation requires.

Pilots Log: September 28, 2006 I have become adept at telling who is injured and who is in need of my assisstance. I moved on from the BWPD in Molebank and into another suburb looking for people to heal, FAK's, and zeds to kill. With any luck I'll find all three of these when I reach my as of yet undecided destination. Maybe I'll move toward Caiger early and bunk down there for now. In any event, things are looking up, and I feel confident about my abilities to help. I'll check in tomorrow, and hope that aid may find its way here. We have a long way to go if we wish to free this town from the grip of undeath strangling its life force.