Post by Codename T on Oct 24, 2007 9:56:03 GMT -5
Hello there. Some of you might remember me, some of you won't. This is understandable. To those of you who don't, I offer this piece of background information: I was a Station Manager at Channel 4, and a member of the old guard. I joined up in the defense of St. Isidore's Church, our sacred place, from Mantoothian hordes even as survivors from Caiger sought to leave it open as a place to revive the zombies indoors. I then joined Ron Burgundy, Our Great Leader, in Richmond Hills, which was a campaign that made D-Day blush and wish it were more manly! The resulting battle at Ackland, hailed "one of the greatest of all time" by Roger Ebert and "a kick-your-ass, edge-of-your-seat, ahh-why-is-my-face-being-eaten romping good time" by Prisonner of Today, further etched that campaign into history.
But alas, I retired shortly after the first Battle of Blackmore. Set up shop in a tavern over in Heytown and lived quietly, comfortably.
But it was not to be. I was called back out of retirement by a friend of mine... Tovarisch Kruschev. Maybe you know him. What resulted was a campaign where I joined the ranks of the Malton Rangers... but all was not sunshine and happiness. My skills were... abused, to put it bluntly. The current leader employed me as a PKer in a controversial move, setting me against those who stood in the way of the New Malton Colossus. Yes, me, one of the very first members of the Colossus, was forced to contract killing!
So I had enough of that. I quietly left after the Rangers got themselves massacred in a campaign to the far west. Things weren't going to my liking, and I decided that if I was going to murder... it was going to be on my terms.
So I moved to Caiger. Actually, a little outside of Caiger. But the point is, I murdered copiously during that time. Not to say I was a bad guy then, though. I still only killed those who possessed the same consciousness as a few others and used each of their bodies to get their jobs done. Much worse than the zombies, I thought.
But then, retirement came again as I once again quietly returned to Heytown.
But the story didn't end there. I was called out of retirement, yet again, and was told that the News Team needed me, that the alliance I had once stood high and proud for needed me.
So I got my shit together and went south. Scarletwood south, to be more specific. And I found a haven of Glorious Battle. All zombies, no barricades, no survivors... and at last I was in my element once more.
And now you're caught up once more. Why am I detailing this? Because I am a relic of the old age, returned once more to fight for humanity, no matter what it takes. I do not ask how many zombies there are... I ask only where they are.
Who am I? I have many names, some which I like more than others. But for our intents and purposes, I do not have a name. You can call me T.
But alas, I retired shortly after the first Battle of Blackmore. Set up shop in a tavern over in Heytown and lived quietly, comfortably.
But it was not to be. I was called back out of retirement by a friend of mine... Tovarisch Kruschev. Maybe you know him. What resulted was a campaign where I joined the ranks of the Malton Rangers... but all was not sunshine and happiness. My skills were... abused, to put it bluntly. The current leader employed me as a PKer in a controversial move, setting me against those who stood in the way of the New Malton Colossus. Yes, me, one of the very first members of the Colossus, was forced to contract killing!
So I had enough of that. I quietly left after the Rangers got themselves massacred in a campaign to the far west. Things weren't going to my liking, and I decided that if I was going to murder... it was going to be on my terms.
So I moved to Caiger. Actually, a little outside of Caiger. But the point is, I murdered copiously during that time. Not to say I was a bad guy then, though. I still only killed those who possessed the same consciousness as a few others and used each of their bodies to get their jobs done. Much worse than the zombies, I thought.
But then, retirement came again as I once again quietly returned to Heytown.
But the story didn't end there. I was called out of retirement, yet again, and was told that the News Team needed me, that the alliance I had once stood high and proud for needed me.
So I got my shit together and went south. Scarletwood south, to be more specific. And I found a haven of Glorious Battle. All zombies, no barricades, no survivors... and at last I was in my element once more.
And now you're caught up once more. Why am I detailing this? Because I am a relic of the old age, returned once more to fight for humanity, no matter what it takes. I do not ask how many zombies there are... I ask only where they are.
Who am I? I have many names, some which I like more than others. But for our intents and purposes, I do not have a name. You can call me T.
