Backstory

NOTE: this is a Out of Character description of my Urban Dead player, Magnar. Mostly for informative/entertainment purposes of a few interested people, I can not promise this to be really fancy. First blog on Blogger so please bear with me.

Every day I am asked the same question: Do I really see myself as a Spartan soldier, a elite Greek warrior of Lakedaimon. Of course not. Truth be told, I am actually American. Before NecroTech went and infected Malton with this outbreak, I was a soldier in the US Marine Corps. I wont bore you with my service record, just mention that I got dropped into Malton 2 years into the Outbreak.

Initially I followed my orders. I fought inside the barricades to defend Fort Creedy and Giddings Mall. For two months I stood fast and died to save as many other survivors as I could. For two months it slowly ate at me how dumb my fellow survivors were. Yes there was several hundred zombies outside the fort, but those of us actually holding the gatehouse needed ammo to keep them back and that was in the armory. When the panic strikin fools locked us out it was only a manner of time before the gatehouse fell.

The night before the Fort fell is when I first caught sight of the murders. Criminals, bandits and psychopaths, other survivors that turned their guns on other humans rather then the zombies. We tried to hold them off, but they were quicker then the zombies. Caught off guard, many of my fellow defenders died in the shooting. Before I fell to a zombie mob outside the infirmery I remember seeing the precesion and skill of a particular group I soon learned were the Spartans. After Giddings fell I had enough busting my ass to save the inept and went searching to join their ranks.

Why the name 'Spartans'? My king, a man known to us as Toothdecay has his reasons, but this is my theory. Despite our pasts, each of us have a shared fondness for that ancient city. Before the Outbreak I had a hobby studying Spartan history and culture, a passion I find amongst many of my brothers. No we do not believe we carry the spear and shield, or atleast I do not. But for my own amusement it is how I view the broken city of Malton.

Malton is a vast city I have come to recognize as the nation of Greece. Much like that ancient civilization, Malton is divided into warring factions and groups. Most of these groups I recognize as fellow Greeks, citizens that live here and who fight to protect the huddle of buildings they call home. The survivors I split into three broad groups in my head: citizens, Greeks and Persians. Citizens are ordinary survivors just struggling to survive. Greeks our my comrades, whether my Spartan brothers or other murders and criminals throughout the city.

Who is it that we fight? Not the zombie. The zombie hordes can not die and most attempts to fight them end in a bloodbath. Today Malton is too stupid and too weak to have a chance. Why is this? After three years why cant this city rise above the infection? Because of the Persians.

They call themselves the Department of Emergancy Management. After the Outbreak the police and the firemen and the doctors of the city banded together to address and detain the Outbreak. The thriving city we know and love today holds testament to their effectiveness.

Despite three years of research and experience, the DEM as this collective is known is inept at best. But why call them Persians? It is their attempt to take over other survivor groups and bend them to their will that is killing Mother Greece. Locally based survivor groups wage this war far more effectively then they ever could, just as Ancient Greece was a shining lamp of enlightenment in a otherwise barbaric world. The Persian invades and trys to smother this ray of hope. You see it everywhere. Their barricade plans that fail, their walking over local policies, their city wide brand of jurisdiction. This is the greatest threat to Malton, to Mother Greece. Not the zombie.

Just like Ancient Greece, the Greek army of Malton is comprised of different groups or city states in my mind. My Spartan brothers carry the cloak of red for Sparta. Our intellectual cousins of the Philosophe Knights I akin to the city of Athens.

Then there are those that oppose us.

Some of the DEM geniunely believe in their cause. These ignorant fools I aliken to the Persian slaves that made up the bulk of Xerxes army. Of note are the fools that believe themselves law enforcement and spend time and resources chasing us bad guys. Only a few of them are worthy adversaries. These soldiers, the elite of the Persian ranks I suitably refer to as Immortals. They are the few and the best, and they are my game.

Does me turning my gun on fellow survivors make me a bad guy? I will not try to convince you otherwise. But hear me on this: groups and individuals that are smart and actually help Greece during this Outbreak and invasion I honor. Those honored I do not attack. I stand peacefully and even help these Greeks. But just like Sparta of old, I do not hesitate to turn my spear or pistol against them. As Leonidas said in the years leading up to the Persian invasion, Greece must be reminded that we must stand together to survive these dire times. The best weapon I have to convince my fellow Greeks is my Spear. I kill a few so that Malton may survive.