User:Jensonson: Difference between revisions
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[[Quarlesbank]] Hills were about a mile away, and if I had known that at the start I would have run for the shops, which were just round the corner, but it was too late to turn back. Something else I hadn't accounted for were the hilly bits - which I guess I should have, well it doesn't matter - but by the time I reached the hills I was bloody knackered! | [[Quarlesbank]] Hills were about a mile away, and if I had known that at the start I would have run for the shops, which were just round the corner, but it was too late to turn back. Something else I hadn't accounted for were the hilly bits - which I guess I should have, well it doesn't matter - but by the time I reached the hills I was bloody knackered! | ||
I found this old | I found this old building - straight out of the Erotic...er...Blair Witch Project - a place I later found out to be [[Pitman Mansion]]. I thought I had found a safe haven, away from practically the whole zombified town of [[Quarlesbank]], but in fact I was very, ''very'' wrong. | ||
I walked right into a slaughterhouse. A crazed, cloaked madman was leading a [[zombie]] horde at a group of uniformed [[human]]s who were reduced to fleshy pulps in mere seconds. One man escaped, running at an impressive speed through a plate-glass window and away from the massacre. I took one long look around the room and suddenly all eyes were upon me; behind me and roaming up the hills were ''the others''. I knew that it was the end and I made a mental note to try not to scream like a little girl when it came to it, but then I felt a warm hand in my own. I looked down and there he was, a red-haired small fellow with a wizened face, and he said... | I walked right into a slaughterhouse. A crazed, cloaked madman was leading a [[zombie]] horde at a group of uniformed [[human]]s who were reduced to fleshy pulps in mere seconds. One man escaped, running at an impressive speed through a plate-glass window and away from the massacre. I took one long look around the room and suddenly all eyes were upon me; behind me and roaming up the hills were ''the others''. I knew that it was the end and I made a mental note to try not to scream like a little girl when it came to it, but then I felt a warm hand in my own. I looked down and there he was, a red-haired small fellow with a wizened face, and he said... | ||
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We charged like raging rhinos, avoiding the outstretched hands of the things, then threw ourselves into the coal-chute and down into the [[The Fortress/Legends|cheese]]-cellar. I turned round to check that The Ears was ok but he had already made a run for it and was half way down [[Quarlesbank]] Hills...so I followed. | We charged like raging rhinos, avoiding the outstretched hands of the things, then threw ourselves into the coal-chute and down into the [[The Fortress/Legends|cheese]]-cellar. I turned round to check that The Ears was ok but he had already made a run for it and was half way down [[Quarlesbank]] Hills...so I followed. | ||
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Anyways, to cut a long story short I eventually ended up in [[The Fortress]]. It's a wonderful building, most men would say - with jollyful players enlivenin' your day. | Anyways, to cut a long story short I eventually ended up in [[The Fortress]]. It's a wonderful building, most men would say - with jollyful players enlivenin' your day. |
Revision as of 11:52, 5 March 2009
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The Forming of The Fortress - The BeginningHi, I'm Jensonson and i'm based over at Fortress Four in Sh...oot, i'm not supposed to say where we're based - I almost forgot again...Well, my story is a rough and tragic ride through Malton's grisly freak-ride so I hope your stomach's prepared and you'll need to hold back the tears cos it's a tough one. I was a cop over in Quarlesbank at the time of the outbreak - ahem ...ok, I was a traffic-cop - you know directing the traffic and stuff - AHEM - Shut up Bensonson you div. OK, I was not a traffic-cop, I was a traffic warden. I know, I know, now you hate me - like i'm the one that got the ticket stuck on your windscreen when you parked just one inch outside the bay, or that time you got clamped when you stopped in the disabled-only zone for a second to visit the cashpoint - well it wasn't me - cos I was an undercover traffic warden. That's right - I never once booked one driver or clamped one vehicle. I worked against the system from the inside, making parkers everywhere happier people, and all was going well in Quarlesbank until one day when I had an incident, should we say, with that Malton citizen. Let me explain... You see, I thought it was one of those aggro complainers that I used to have to deal with on a day-to-day basis but this guy turned out to be something worse. No it was not a politician. But this thing kind of shuffled up to me like he had a wet one hanging down the inside of his leg and moaned something about "Brains" while reaching forward with his grey claw-like hands. I was just about to explain that I was an undercover traffic warden when he unsympathetically grabbed ahold of my arms and dived his face right into my stomach. Of course I had been attacked many times before by disgruntled customers but this one was about to chew a hole in my chest so I did the only thing within my power...I stuck a "Penalty Notice" sticker over his gob. The sight of the parking ticket seemed to at first intrigue and then enrage this strange citizen and he began to lurch towards me. I didn't like the look in his eyes so I ran. It was at this point that I noticed that the street was covered with these despicable beasts and the sight of my warden cap and outfit, and the "Penalty Notice" sticker, caused them all to stop and face eagerly towards me. It was at this time that I dropped a load onto the pavement. The horde swarmed menacingly around me. There was no time to pick up my clipboard and notes, I ran for the hills. Quarlesbank Hills were about a mile away, and if I had known that at the start I would have run for the shops, which were just round the corner, but it was too late to turn back. Something else I hadn't accounted for were the hilly bits - which I guess I should have, well it doesn't matter - but by the time I reached the hills I was bloody knackered! I found this old building - straight out of the Erotic...er...Blair Witch Project - a place I later found out to be Pitman Mansion. I thought I had found a safe haven, away from practically the whole zombified town of Quarlesbank, but in fact I was very, very wrong. I walked right into a slaughterhouse. A crazed, cloaked madman was leading a zombie horde at a group of uniformed humans who were reduced to fleshy pulps in mere seconds. One man escaped, running at an impressive speed through a plate-glass window and away from the massacre. I took one long look around the room and suddenly all eyes were upon me; behind me and roaming up the hills were the others. I knew that it was the end and I made a mental note to try not to scream like a little girl when it came to it, but then I felt a warm hand in my own. I looked down and there he was, a red-haired small fellow with a wizened face, and he said... "Hold my hand. I'm scared." It was a man I later found out to be called The Ears and he was crying like a baby. This seemed to bring me to my senses and I knew there was only one possible escape from this horrific room. The coal-chute in the far corner. We charged like raging rhinos, avoiding the outstretched hands of the things, then threw ourselves into the coal-chute and down into the cheese-cellar. I turned round to check that The Ears was ok but he had already made a run for it and was half way down Quarlesbank Hills...so I followed. Anyways, to cut a long story short I eventually ended up in The Fortress. It's a wonderful building, most men would say - with jollyful players enlivenin' your day. Some people simply call it The Fortress, while others call it the Four Fortress or Fortress Four. And Mad Berty-me-keyboards-not-Qwerty calls it The Farty-forty-far-f-fortress...but for me, The Fortress is more than a name. It is a way of life. The FortressThe Fortress is a leading survivor group, consisting of zombie-hatin', trash-talkin' super soldiers with a single aim - the annihilation of all Malton's zombies! The Fortress strives to set an example to all other human groups with its precise protocol and practiced procedures. This section outlines these policies. Complete Fortress Roster
The Forming of The Fortress - The Conclusion* The full unabridged Directors Cut version of this story is included exclusively on The Fortress forum. Quarlesbank was not safe. The cemeteries were spawning fresh corpses faster than McDonalds Happy Meals, and the streets were over-run. Jensonson found The Ears at a nearby police department and barricaded the entrances but the horde was too strong. As Jensonson struggled to protect his entrance-way he was shocked to see Lord Pitman burst through his vulnerable rear defence. "Jensonson. It is time for you to return to my mansion", the dark lord cried. And to The Ears' utter astonishment, Jensonson handed his gun over to Pitman and gave himself up to the horde. The Ears fled into the night. Jensonson felt himself being taken by the horde and now he was on his way back to Pitman Mansion. He remembered now he had been here before. Long before he had met The Ears. Was it his destiny to always end up at that place? As the murmuring horde carried him into the building the dark lord rasped, "You may torture him my underlings, but he must be kept alive." The minions of Lord Pitman ripped the flesh from his face and fed upon it so that all that was left was an unrecognizable mask of blood. Lord Pitman stared down at his quivering victim. "Jensonson. You are the only one that is unaffected by my serum. As you cannot be converted to my kind, I have another fate for you. It will cause you more pain." The Ears and his small group had formed a battle-plan, no more than a suicide mission if the truth be told, but the very night before the assault on Pitman Mansion, it was Pitman that came to them...The door of the warehouse burst inwards and there stood Lord Pitman and his army of minions. "Where is Jensonson?" Lord Pitman screamed at The Ears. "Tell me where you are hiding him, little man, and I will let you live." The Ears was shocked. Jensonson had escaped? The Ears wondered what Pitman had done to his friend.
Jensonson woke up, (he had collapsed about a mile outside the quarantine border), he was lying flat in an operating theatre faced by a mysterious group of jolly-looking men. "Hello Jensonson. We are the Body." Jensonson looked around in disbelief. Was he dead? The stranger continued. "Our organization plans to rescue the City of Malton from the infection. By the way, we have cured you of zombification and surgically reconstructed your face." Jensonson shot up in his bed and brought his hands to his face. "Calm down Jensonson, you are safe here. But we want you to help us. The infection has spread. The army are staying well out of Malton. We need a revolution from the inside. We need someone to act as a leader to the strong and the brave. Jensonson - We think you can be the leader of the Malton revolution."
He moved threateningly towards The Ears. "I know, my weapon may look unusual to your eyes...but it will cause me extreme satisfaction to cut off your ears." The Ears held his hands to his head defensively, as Pitman moved in. Suddenly there was a crash as the window behind The Ears erupted inwards and Jensonson rolled forwards and then up to one knee. Pitman almost dropped his nine-inch chopper to the floor. "Game over, Pitman." And Jensonson fired a single shot straight through the skull of Lord Pitman, right between the eyes - headshot. The occultist lord dropped to the floor with a thud. There was a great wailing as his minions realized what had happened. With Pitman dead they were afraid and weak - the horde dispersed. Several months later Jensonson had taken charge of The Ears and his brigade. He had led them to an old school in the centre of Malton which they constructed into an impenetrable Fortress. "I have been sent from The Body to oppose the zombie nation." He had told them. "This will be the home of the First Fortress of Malton. We will build five. The Heart, The Clinic, The Armoury, The Society and The Hidden." Many of these people had joined after reading the advertisment posters with recommendations from Fet, Jensonson and Conflict Trooper Shedd. When the Fortress was finally completed, Jensonson, The Ears, and all the loyal members of The Fortress met together. They looked in amazement at their new Head. "For loyalty and reliability. For peace and survival. The Fortress will prevail!" There was a loud cheer from the crowd but then a question was shouted over the roar. "One thing, Jensonson. Who the hell is Conflict Trooper Shedd?" "Hmmmm, that's a very interesting question." The crowd quietened. "When Fortress Four was being constructed around the old school, there was one man that refused to leave the building. To be honest, we thought he had gone but apparently not. Shedd is essentially the first member of The Fortress. Well, now he's a part of it...literally. He's entombed in the concrete..." There was a long silence, and then everyone laughed heartily..."LONG LIVE THE FORTRESS!!!" Journal EntriesLatest Fortress News & GossipCatch up on the latest news and gossip at TFN - The Fortress News! Archived JournalsFull Review of 2006
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