Now, some of you might remember this fun thread and a few of you might have realized that I was quite enthusiastic to see the idea go far.

As I'm sure Devour has things to do, and as we all know sticking with a big project can be difficult, we've agreed to collaborate.

The plan (for now) is: He'll be doing most of the thinking, as there is nothing I hate more than having to come up with ideas; I'll be making sure every sentence is up to novel standard; we'll both be writing, subject to who's available and willing (we'll probably come up with a system for this).

I've just finished going through what's already been written (the first chapter), and it'll follow in the next post. Credits are to Devour for writing the original below.

Starting at the second reply, we'll be posting the actual story.

I'll reserve a few more posts, and put a few chapters per post to keep things organised.


The story takes place in the city of Stickpage, and is written in Devour's perspective. It is essentially a zombie apocalypse story, where noobs = zombies. It will be fun.

[SIZE="5"]If you'd like to be in the story, post in the original thread, and hopefully Devour will decide whether or not to put you in. It's still his project and he makes the decisions, I'm just helping.[/SIZE]

Chapter 1

When the Pivot Section fell, its imprisoning walls finally crumbling and broken, and all the slobbering, bloodthirsty noobs escaped, it was a hellish battle. We don’t know how many were killed, but we do know that few survived the onslaught.

The first attack was merciless. With great strength in numbers, they rushed from their prison, and ran amok into the city of Stickpage. They took down all the major threats they could find, and the moderators were the first to go; Gavel, Ln3ug, Dragon077... they all perished in the vicious siege. There are rumours that 2-D managed to help most of the other moderators escape... but with James Moer hot on their tail. Of course, it’s probable that they survived, and set up a line of defence of some sort by now. As for StrunG, he's with us.

The NTF members were attacked next. They were less powerful, but by the time they were attacked, they knew of the threat that Stickpage faced. I’m told only Real died, while the rest survived, thanks primarily to the help of Miniman. The noobs were forced to fall back from the NTF's well prepared defence, and they moved on to the inner city. There, they feasted on the citizens of Stickpage. It was a slaughter. Nobody is certain what happened to the NTFs, though.

Instead of going into detail of how so many people's bodies were crushed and ripped apart, thrown through windows, or burned alive in their houses, I'm just going to make it clear that us three, as a group, are still alive and well.

StrunG , MoD, and I, Devour. It's an odd group. StrunG despises MoD. Hell, I don't think he'd even mind tripping me up with a bear trap or something either, to save his own skin. But he knows that he's stuck with us. Nobody could survive this mess alone, with the possible exception of 2-D. Then again, he might not even be alive anymore either.

***

"Hey Devour, get over here and help me get through this door." MoD yelled, snapping me back to reality.
"****, fine." I sighed, and made my way over to him. We took turns kicking at the door, and then tried kicking at the same time. But it wouldn't budge.
"We need a battering ram." MoD joked. "How did this guy plan to get out of the house after he locked the shit out of it?"
"He might not have." I replied.

After a few moments of trying, StrunG sighed heavily, and stood up from his lookout spot.
"Dammit, you pansies,” he said irritably. “Just let me do this. Devour, hold this gun." He tossed the Smith & Wesson 4006 he had been holding to me, and up a medium sized rock in each hand.

He started working, and with our assistance, quickly filled up the wheelbarrow that StrunG had been sitting on with rubble and dirt. Then, with some difficulty, he lifted it by its handles.
MoD stared. “What are you d--“
Without warning, StrunG grunted and threw the wheelbarrow, and all of its contents, against the door. There was a loud crash, and when the dust cleared, the door wasn't there anymore.

"What the ****, man? MoD shouted, alarmed. “That's gonna bring all the noobs in the next few blocks after us!"
"Good, then I could get your dead weight off of my shoulders." StrunG walked calmly into the house, stepping over the wheelbarrow. "Everything's completely in order here. It's as if the guy who lived here boarded up the house but starved himself to death anyway."

I followed. He was right; the floor was carpeted and clean, and the walls didn't even have any visible markings on them. It had comfortable looking furniture, too. It was like a picture of how the average house would have looked before the attacks began.

"How's the kitchen look?" I called out to StrunG, who was already somewhere deep inside the house.
"Shit loads of food, that's for sure." He said, with an edge of satisfaction in his voice.
"This is weird, though. Why would somebody board up their house and leave it untouched?" I said to myself.
"The guy's probably still in here, you faggot." MoD said flatly. "Go find the basement and see if anyone’s there. I'll check the top floor."
I gave him a spiteful look, but did as he said, checking each of the doors to find one that led to the basement. I quickly found one.

I flicked on the light switch for the basement, and was surprised to find that it worked.
"I found the basement, guys." I called to the others. Neither of them cared. I slowly climbed down the stairs, leading with StrunG’s pistol. “Hello?" I said cautiously. "Anyone there?"

I reached the floor. The ground was stone and hard, but besides that it was nice, for a basement. It looked similar to the main floor, just with less carpeting.
"We're stealing all your food," I tried tentatively.
"You're what?!" shouted an outraged voice behind me.
Somebody tackled me from behind. I yelled out in surprise, and caught myself before my attacker could smash my head into the pavement. StrunG’s handgun skidded away across the stone floor.
I kicked my attacker off, quickly turned around, and kicked him away. He stumbled backwards, but stayed on his feet. I quickly stood up, and looked at him.
"Who are you?" I asked, staring him down.
"Flood. Now get out of my house you dirty nigger."

As I looked at him, confused, he charged. Flood was very short compared to me, about up to my chest, but he was charging. As he came near, I grabbed the fist he swung at me, and began swinging him around, wrestler style. After a second I let go, and he crashed hard into one of the cement pillars which held up the roof. He hit the ground hard. As he got up again, he pulled out a knife.
"Who's the dirty nigger now?" I asked, taking a cautious step back from the real danger I now faced. StrunG seemed to be either completely oblivious to this fight, or maybe he didn't care. MoD was all the way upstairs. I was on my own.

As Flood charged again, I grabbed a nearby chair and threw it at him, before running at my attacker. He parried the chair away, but I was able to jump up, and deliver an awesome flying kick which sent Flood flying back once again. He banged his head on a wall and hit the ground once more.
"Dude, I don't want to do this. We're just gathering supplies to survive. In fact, there's enough food in this house to last us for weeks. You could probably come along with us."
Flood groaned, but perked his head up. "Then why is that guy pointing a rifle at me?"
Confused, I looked behind me. StrunG had finally decided to do something about this, and had come downstairs.
"Oh," I said. “That's StrunG. Maybe you've heard of him, he's a moderator."
"And I don't want any more mouths to feed." He said.

I picked up StrunG’s handgun off the ground. At this point, Flood seemed to realize that his best option was in fact, to tag along for a bit.
"I have a stash of guns," He said. "If I could join you guys for a bit, I'd be an extra hand to help you guys fight."
StrunG sighed and lowered his rifle. His old responsibilities as a moderator had taught him against leaving innocents to die. I offered him his pistol, and he took it without looking at me. He just continued to stare at Flood.

There was a long pause.

“Fine,” StrunG said, as he turned and walked back up the stairs.

***

We stared at the tiny square safe in the wall.
"So this is where the 'stash of guns' you have is, then?" MoD asked, with a look of disappointment on his face.
"Yes," Flood replied coolly. “And it's a lot bigger than it looks, don't worry.”
"That's what she said." I mumbled.
With a sigh, Flood ignored me and quickly opened up the safe. Inside the safe was a backpack, laid on its side in order to fit. With a tug, he pulled out the pack, which turned out to be three times longer than the safe was wide.

"How does that work?" MoD asked, dumbfounded.
"It goes into the wall," Flood said. He sighed, and opened up the pack. "Guns are all at the top. There's a big supply of ammo at the bottom, too..." He pulled a rifle similar to the one StrunG was holding out, and offered it to MoD. "They're all unloaded right now, though, so no trying to shoot me or anything."

"Damn, I was hoping I could," MoD said, pushing Flood’s gun away. “StrunG, give me your rifle.” He reached for the gun in StrunG’s hands, and instead received a hard punch to the shoulder.
"You're not touching any loaded gun bigger than your head, you baboon." He growled sternly. "Here, take this one." StrunG reached down and pulled a small pistol out of the pack. He offered it to MoD.

MoD stared at the weapon sadly.
"But I won’t be able to give enough support with this thing." He complained.
"Flood will make up for it." StrunG chirped. "He's probably more useful than you are anyways."
I'm sure he thought that StrunG was serious when he said that he wouldn't touch any larger guns, so he accepted the tiny Glock 26 for himself.

I chuckled at the scene. Flood had given me a Beretta, and as many magazines for the thing I could carry. He took the rifle for himself, as well as a second Beretta. I guess he had the right to take what he wanted; after all, they were his guns.
"We'll take the backpack with us. MoD can carry it since that gun he has doesn't weigh much at all." I said. Flood laughed, stuffing ammo of his own into his pockets. MoD looked like he wanted to beat me over the head with the backpack as I handed it to him, but he reluctantly took it. Shortly afterwards we were headed out.

Down the stairs, I caught up to StrunG. "Do you think that Flood's even capable of taking down noobs?” I asked him quietly. “Sure, he's vicious and had a bunch of guns stored up, but I don’t if he's seen the real thing yet." We were just walking out of the house.
With an evil look to his eye, StrunG said, "Let's find out."

He pointed his rifle skywards, and pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed throughout the whole neighbourhood. My blood ran cold for a second as the adrenaline started pumping in.
"You did not just do that." I breathed.
"I sure did. Let's do this, sport." He clapped my shoulder roughly and picked up the (now empty) wheelbarrow with one hand. Then, he ran ahead, heading towards the street.

I sighed and cocked my gun. Deciding that StrunG must already have a plan, I shouted, “Everyone, follow StrunG!" I ran after him, my footsteps sounding heavy and loud as I strained my ears, listening carefully for the sounds of hungry noobs.

Chapter 2

We ran down the road for a while, until a lone noob shambled around the corner up ahead of us. We stopped in our tracks to assess the situation. Its head was rolled back, and it was staring absently upwards while its body took it where it pleased, searching for flesh to feed on. Bleeding and with torn clothes from whatever battles it had been through, the noob was dazed and unaware of our presence. On its own, the battered shell of a man was no great threat to us; but letting it get close would be a foolish mistake.

“What do we do?” I asked the others, as I watched the noob carefully. I turned to face StrunG after waiting a few moments for a response, and opened my mouth to speak again. But I quickly closed it again, as I saw that StrunG was already aiming his rifle at the creature. His shot was perfectly aimed, and the bullet tore a grotesque hole in the creature’s head, knocking it to the ground. It rolled over and tried to push itself back to its feet, and the sound of the rifle rang out twice more. The noob jolted as it was hit both times, and finally collapsed to the ground.

I stared for a moment at the carcass, and then looked at StrunG.
“Won’t that give away our position again?” I asked him tentatively. He opened his mouth to reply, but cut himself off as a crowd of at least 30 noobs wandered around the same corner. They spotted us quickly, and started shambling towards us at as fast a pace as they could muster.
“Okay, I’ll be honest,” he said quietly to me. “I didn’t expect THAT many to come for us.” I groaned as we all raised our guns.

Our group took the first few out with no problem; at a distance, there was nothing the noobs could do to us. A lot of them were very difficult to aim at, though; years of shitty animating had made them as choppy as their creations. But as always, they had strength in numbers; as one noob fell, two more stepped over it. StrunG quickly opted to switch to his less accurate, but faster firing handgun, and as they got closer, he lifted the wheelbarrow with his spare hand, ready to swing it at an unlucky noob. Soon they were upon us, surrounding us, closing in on us as we kept shooting them down as quickly as we could. We made a tight circle, all facing outwards. They attacked us without hesitating, and it every man was required to defend their self, as well as watch the backs of those behind us.
“I’M GOOD AT ANIMATING,” groaned one of the noobs. “GRAARRGHRG!!” StrunG clobbered him sideways with his wheelbarrow, sending him flying in to one of the derelict buildings around us.

The surrounding wall of noobs was diminishing slowly, but also getting tighter around us. A noob that had evidently never heard the word “easing” before was suddenly upon Flood, tackling him to the ground.
“Get off me you choppy son of a bitch!” Flood shouted as he held the creature’s jittery arms away from his face. StrunG spun around, his wheelbarrow swinging like some deformed demolition ball, and smacked the noob in to the thinning crowd around us, sending three more of them flying. Flood quickly jumped to his feet and smacked an incoming noob with the butt of his rifle.
“Thanks!” he shouted to StrunG, as he resumed shooting with his Beretta.

Meanwhile, MoD was having a hard time with his tiny handgun. Not only did the 9x19 mm Glock have weak stopping power, but it also had a relatively small capacity – only ten rounds compared to Flood and my 14 (and StrunG’s more powerful 11). He was being forced to reload more frequently than the rest of us, and his bullets weren’t doing much to start with. He seemed to be having more luck with kicking the noobs back and letting us help him deal with them. By no means was this a fantastic tactic, but given the small number of noobs that we had to deal with, it seemed to be working just fine. I made a mental note to try and get him a better gun, as I shot a noob that he had just kicked back for him.

It wasn’t long before StrunG was finishing the last two noobs off with his wheelbarrow, then shooting their motionless bodies with his rifle for good measure.

***

Looking around, the sheer number of noobs we had just killed occurred to me. I realized that once, they too had been human. But at some point, they stopped being that. Either something had gone wrong in the transition in to double digits of age, or they had contracted the sickness by letting a noob get its teeth in them.

The noob epidemic started as some kind of sickness; you could only get it once in your life, but that one time, the sickness would consume you. It wasn’t contagious; it just caused a degree of mental instability and impairment for the time you were affected. You didn’t realize that you had anything, and you genuinely thought that your shitty animations were brilliant. Most were only sick for a short period of time; normally, therapy could improve the situation until your body solved the problem on its own.

However, many were incurable. These people were named “noobs”.

When Stickpage was built, citizens were taught to accept the common noob as normal people with an unfortunate illness that made them less intelligent than the average person. The life span of the noobs seemed to be quite short, so they never grew too old; most noobs were children. For a time, it was no problem. People could deal with the a few loons who thought that their Dragon Ball Z pivots were amazing. Noobs were well known for biting average citizens, but such bites were never a big deal. They were seen more as ‘slow witted kids, with a habit for biting things’. Although, it was noticed that nobody with the sickness ever seemed to bite someone else with it.

But at some point, the sickness evolved. The illness became contagious, and the bites were the primary form of transfer. From then, the illness spread, and society rejected the noobs like lepers. And so it came to pass that the Pivot section was built. It was an enormous labyrinth, to hold the entire noob population separate from the unafflicted Members.

It worked for a while, but... the rest, as they say, is history.

***

I reloaded my gun, and watched the empty magazine from my Beretta hit the ground. I noticed then how many we had used, and realized how much more we were going to need to survive any more waves like that.

“Everybody good?” StrunG asked.
“All good here,” I said.
“I’m okay,” breathed MoD. Sweat dripped off his jaw. Flood looked equally tired, and his clothes were a little torn and his elbow was bleeding from when he had fell.
“I’m fine,” he said tiredly.
“Good work guys,” StrunG said, turning away. A rare compliment from the man; I guess you can only go through so much with a group of people before you start to respect them. “We should get out of here,” he continued. “Before more show up.”

“You know what we need?" MoD asked. "We need ourselves some ****ing melee weapons."
I nodded.
"We only went a few blocks." Flood said. "Let's go back and grab some steak and butcher knives from my house."
In unanimous agreement, we walked back the way we came. Tentatively, we stepped over the dead bodies with guns pointed at each of their heads, in case they weren't actually as dead as they looked. We walked silently through the ruined area of the General Discussions section, staring at the boarded up houses and cracked streets. Stickpage wasn't what it used to be. We travelled back quietly, wordlessly contemplating the fate that had reached our home.

We were soon eternally grateful for our silence. StrunG opened the door to Flood's house, and he immediately covered his mouth to hold back a gasp, stumbling backwards. Pale skinned, he beckoned for us to see what he had seen. I could tell from his composure that was shaken badly by the fear that he felt, and, in curiosity, I peered into Flood's house.

It was filled to the brim with noobs. Every floor was packed to the rafters with jittery and stiff stick figures, constantly fighting amongst themselves, shouting about how Naruto was better than Dragon Ball Z or that Pivot was better than Flash. Their quarrelling left them unaware of our presence. But that wasn't the scary part... the gut wrencher was that standing on a pedastal, seemingly in command of the army of noobs, was a pale-skinned, fang bearing woman. I recognized her immediately as Mantha, a legendary former moderator. Her advanced ex-moderator’s genetic code had allegedly caused problems with the noobification process. Instead of becoming a common noob, she had become what most would call a vampire.

Out of fear, MoD snatched at Flood's extra gun, the Beretta. Obviously he was sick of his own puny pistol. But the strap caught onto Flood's arm, causing him to fall and knock over a garbage can. The actual bin falling wasn't particularly loud, but tons of tossed food and other human smelling things out onto the street. Those that heard turned their heads towards us, and seconds later, every zombie in the house followed suit, smelling the garbage.

No command was given. We ran, with MoD yelling, "Oh, ****! Shit! Mother****er pussy cock son of a bitch!" and other various profanities into the air.

Chapter 3

An inhuman roar was heard from inside. It was probably an order from Mantha for the noobs to kill us, because at that moment, Flood's house began emptying. Noobs streamed out of every door, and fell out at us from every window.

We sprinted onwards. I trailed behind MoD for a bit to restock my ammo, and then catching back up with StrunG and Flood.
"Where do we go?" I shouted over the groans and roars of the noobs.
"A roof." StrunG stammered. "A flat roof! The school!" And we all knew that that would be where we headed.

The school was two blocks away. Not far at all. But sprinting as fast as we could, all of us but StrunG were breathless. He vaulted the fence which led to the playground, and we followed behind him, much slower.

He began circling around the school, looking for a way up, while the rest of us stumbled onto the ground, gasping for breath. We had a big head-start on the slow moving noobs, but they would be here in due time. And as for Mantha... none of us had any clue how fast exactly vampires could travel. The sun was out, so for all we knew she may have been stuck inside of Flood's house for now. I sure as hell hoped so.

Everything around us looked perfectly normal, besides the houses around the school and the distant cries and growls of the mob of noobs approaching from a few blocks away. How many of them were there, even? Sixty? Seventy? A hundred? Far too many, that's for sure.

StrunG had returned, now a little out of breath. He shouted, "I found a way to the roof: it's just around the back. Get up there!"

The first of the noobs were rounding the corner. I didn’t hesitate to follow StrunG. I'd caught my breath a bit so I kept pace with him, following the moderator to the dump area of the school's garbage. We climbed up the ladder that didn’t quite reach the roof as he sprang to the roof, a good 5 feet above where the ladder ended. He reached down his arm to pull the rest of us up... a little reluctantly with MoD though.

"Dude just pull me up they'll be here any minute now."
"I dunno, you might accidently get us killed again."
"Goddammit, please?"
"Whatever." With a grunt, MoD was with us as well.

We could see into the playground from where we were. The line of noobs stretched thin enough to count the numbers quickly in fives.
"72." I said. "Do we even have enough bullets for these guys?"
"For sure." Flood assured, checking his bag. "We'll just have to hope about twenty of them just blow up and we'll be fine."
"Huh." I mumbled, irritated at Flood's uselessness to give good info. I picked up his hunting rifle and stepped up to the edge of the roof, firing three shots into the mob, with the blasts cracking through the sky. One noob was hit in the neck and sprayed blood, but kept walking. Another was hit in the chest and the other in the knee, who fell over and started crawling towards us instead.
"No, I'm serious." Flood shouted, alarmed. "We don't have enough ammo for all these guys. Save your shots."
"Well guys, here they come." StrunG said. The first of the noobs had found a way up, and had started climbing up the guttering, one or two at a time. The group below had split into more groups, looking for other ways up to get up to us.

Strung was waiting at the edge of where the noobs were, wheelbarrow in his fists. As the first started to climb over, he wound up and hit the noob's head like a golf ball, dislocating his neck with a loud snap and sending him flying from the building. Flood was laying down with the Beretta, and he sniped a clean headshot off the second zombie, and then another. It lost its grip and fell.

This strategy worked perfectly for a bit, but after no more than five noobs were killed, another group had found its way up. Then another. And then another. MoD and I lined up to take each group out firing squad style, but it wasn't very efficient. More and more noobs managed to get onto their feet and make a run for us, but not before getting gunned down.

"We're gonna need help here pretty soon!" MoD cried as he fired off another shot which dropped a noob.
"DANG IT!!!!!!!!" a noob we recognised as BDninja cried, as he landed by MoD's feet, grabbing at his legs. Horrified, he raised his foot and crushed the noob's 10 year old head underfoot.
I was grabbed from behind by another noob that must have gotten past MoD.
"Not good enough." The noob droned. I recognized him immediately as Arch Angel. "You ****ing suck I'm so much better than you nobody is a better animator than me!"
I furiously shook him off, swung my rifle around and connected the blow to his head. He stumbled back by a foot or so and came back at me again, though my barrel was levelled at his head.
"What I could do in pivot in 5 minutes is better than what you'd do in three hours!" He cried, moments before I blew a hole into his brain.

StrunG headed over to help us, crushing a noob flat with his wheelbarrow before taking out his pistol, quickly taking out the close few, and then switching to his rifle, not bothering to reload the Smith & Wesson.

Another group of zombies had found their way up near Flood's spot. He was shortly forced to back up into the circle that me, MoD and StrunG formed.
"My baretta's nearly out of ammo." Flood said, hopeless. "We have to jump from the school and make a run for it!"
"If somebody breaks an ankle they're toast!" I replied as I shot at another noob; missing because of the uneased gait that it walked. I cursed and fired another shot into it's face. The noob dropped.

"I'm dry." StrunG said as he picked up the wheelbarrow. In a second, he swung and sent three noobs flying backwards a good five feet. One's neck snapped, but the others got right back up. MoD had used the last of his ammo and had switched to using the rifle as like a baseball bat. Because I'd restocked my ammo before running, I was still shooting, but we were still in huge trouble.
"Spread out!" I ordered. "We can't have them coming at us all at once.

Swinging with an axe-like motion, I brought the handle of my rifle onto the top of a noob's head, caving in his skull. Swinging again like a bat I cleared a path out of the mess.
Not like it did any good. I was almost immediately thereafter tackled from the side by a noob. Terrified, I fought away the creature's head as it snapped for me. There wasn't even anyone around to save me.

I didn't want to turn into a noob. I really ****ing badly did not want to turn into a noob. But I couldn't see a way out of this one... as soon as a second noob got to me, I'd be toast. I could hear my friends slowly losing the fight too. Flood was cornered, MoD was cornered too, firing his glock rapidly. StrunG was slowly getting surrounded as he smashed the skulls of other noobs with his wheelbarrow...

Chapter 4

I heard gunshots. Rapid assault-rifle fire. Noobs around me were jerking violently as they were hit by the bu

Chapter 5

It was getting dark, so we decided to find a place to set up camp. We found a small, run-down, abandoned milk bar with only one entrance and with barred windows. There was roof access and plenty to barricade the door with; not to mention the leftover food items that hadn’t yet been taken. Scarecrow and StrunG pushed a set of shelves in front of the door, and we scoured the shop for edible food. We turned in a bunch of baked beans, tinned spaghetti, chocolate bars, candy, and apple juice, and decided to enjoy a reasonable meal on this night rather than eating only enough to survive.

I opened a can of beans, and used the tin’s lid as a spoon. After deciding that a bonfire was a terrible idea on MoD’s behalf, we sat in a small circle and talked about where we should go next.

“The other surviving NTF members have built a last line of defence in the NTF Discussion section up North,” Scarecrow explained, pausing to pop a handful of coffee beans into his mouth before chewing briefly. “They’ve built a trap-riddled fortress, and turned the party van in to a noob slaughtering vehicular menace. There aren’t any moderators there, nor am I sure what’s happened to most of them in general, but if we head there, you guys will have access to supplies, refuge, and fortification.”
“What about you?” Flood asked.
“We have a job to do,” Myself said. “Find survivors, and kill noobs until we die.”
“Probably due to caffeine overdose,” Scarecrow added, chewing more beans.
“Besides,” Myself continued. “When we get there, we’ll probably find that we just happened to be the exact number of people needed to try and put a crazy plan to save Stickpage in to action, and then we’ll go on a wild action adventure with you or something and we won’t have to worry about that anymore.”
“Happens every time,” Scarecrow said.

“Anyway,” he continued. “Like I said, the NTF section is the place to be right now if you want to get out of this hell-hole.”
“Hang on,” StrunG said. “The NTF section is not exactly an easy place to get to right now...”
“You’re exactly right,” Scarecrow said. “This is where we hit a small snag.” He pulled a map of the boards out and laid it in the middle of our circle.
“We’re in General Discussion right now,” Myself said, pointing to our general area on the map. “As you can see here, if we want to get to the NTF section, we need to pass though the seething mass that is General Help.”
“And the Stick Page Animations and Games section, which has been infested for as long as I can remember,” Scarecrow continued.
“The dreaded Announcements Section, where every thread is filled with spam,” added Myself.
“And the battleground of the staff Chat Room,” said Scarecrow. “It’s going to be one hell of a journey, if you guys are up for it. But I think it will be worth it. Hey, maybe I’ll get promoted.” A short chuckle from the rest of us followed... then an uneasy silence broken by nothing but Scarecrow’s incessant chewing.

MoD broke the silence.
“Hey Scarecrow,” he said. “Do you know what happened to the other NTFs? And the mods and admins?”
We were all curious to know what exactly had gone down, but we weren’t sure whether or not it was a touchy subject or not. Trust MoD to not worry about that.

Scarecrow stared for a moment, then faced away and spat out some coffee grinds. Either he was reluctant to talk about it, or he’d already told so many people it was becoming boring – I couldn’t tell. He sighed, and looked back at MoD.
“Okay,” he said. “I guess I am one of the few people who know what actually happened. What exactly do you want to know?”
“I think we’d all like to know,” StrunG said quietly. “What actually happened in when the noobs attacked?. How did it all go down?”
“You don’t know what happened at the start?” Scarecrow asked. He seemed somewhat surprised, but then he seemed to come to a realization. “Oh, that’s right,” he said. “You weren’t there, were you?”
“I was on duty in General Discussion,” StrunG said.
“Right, of course,” Scarecrow said grabbing a handful of coffee beans. “Well, I’ll go from the top, then.

“As you probably know,” he explained. “The noobs concentrated their initial attack on the moderators. The Bat Cave was the first to be attacked. I’m not sure how they found the Cave, but how is not really of much consequence. The moderators and retired members fought like crazy. You may or may not have noticed with StrunG around you, but moderators have a great appreciation for the melee weapon. Combined with their strength, this can be a powerful combo, but it is also a great weakness. There were just too many noobs to take all of them down with a weapon that could only hit as far as you could swing it. The battle lasted for hours, but the moderators were overrun. I hear Gavel may have actually gone ballistic at some point, but he’s dead now.

“It looks like 2-D pulled some pretty crazy shit to get the remaining moderators out alive,” Scarecrow said, pausing for a moment, scratching under his eye. “It looked like he used a van and a giant catapult. Seems like Mantha stayed behind to help them escape, and I’m pretty sure everyone has at least a vague idea of what happened to her, but I’ll get to that in a moment.

“Anyway,” he continued, starting to chew again. “As soon as the attack began, the NTFs were sent a message and we were immediately informed of what was happening. The first thing we did was start building a barricade. Miniman was pulling ideas for traps out left right and center, so we ended up with a pretty ridiculous security system going. I’m particularly fond of the flamethrowers at the door, those things work like a charm.

“So when the noobs came to attack us, we had a serious upper hand. Our defences were impenetrable, none could get to our gates without being chopped up, crushed, incinerated or electrified. They attacked endlessly for hours, and none reached our barricade. After some time, the attacks slowed, and we attempted to contact the moderators... and then, when that failed, we attempted to contact the admins. Also nothing.

“So we sent out a scout to see what happened,” Scarecrow continued, scooping up some more coffee beans. “We had to send our fastest NTF, the one with the best chance escaping from hordes of shambling noobs. Unfortunately that meant that I had to go.

“I got to the cave and found it in ruin. The bodies of noobs, retirees and moderators alike were all over the place. I found the catapult system the moderators had apparently used to escape. In paint on the side was written ‘2-D’s Plan B’.

“I followed the aiming path of the catapult, and found a small crater with tyre marks in it. I hoped to be able to follow the tracks, but they went straight on to the road and then faded. So instead I returned to the cave and searched through the bodies. Deathwish, Ln3uq, Exilement, Benja, V.Valentine, The Pirate, Gavel... all dead. In the Admin Control room I found ZuLu, clawed to death, and Mantha, unconscious and bleeding out. I carried her on my back, and brought her to the NTF Section to report back and get a medic helping her.

“Alive and Real ended up having to bring her to the General Help section for proper medical attention, but when she woke up, she started killing people left right and centre. She killed Real and most of the General Help users... then she escaped and became what she is now... some kind of vampire.

“After Alive returned, and reported what had happened, we decided that we should start trying to save as many regular members as possible. We’ve been taking turns to go out searching for remaining members. For however long it takes us to get to the trash can and back.

“I started my turn two days ago, and brought Myself with me,” Scarecrow said, before spitting out some more coffee grinds and stuffing fresh beans into his mouth.
“Real found me,” Myself added, grabbing a handful of beans for himself. “And I want to help out.”
“And that’s pretty much everything I know about that,” Scarecrow finished. “Now you should all get some sleep. Most people don’t function well without it.”

We obliged.

Chapter 6

I was dreaming peacefully for once. In my dreams, Stickpage was back to normal. All the moderators joked and laughed with each other and the members. All of them alive and well, rather than dead or missing. NTF members hung out with their friends, all happy and not battle-hardened. No hulking, destructive fortress was made as the only way they were able to survive, and noobs were safely kept in the Pivot section, along with the other places where noobs lurked in large numbers. But all out of the way places.
But then everything changed. Although I was miles away, I could hear deafening banging sounds, and the shattering of glass. Stone and wood splintered slowly, as the banging rang on.
“WAKE UP, GUYS.” I heard. Where was it coming from? Who was shouting so loudly?
“I’M SERIOUS, GET THE HELL UP BEFORE YOU’RE ALL NOOB-PASTA!”

I felt a hard kick to my leg, which violently woke me up. I flew to my feet and grabbed my attacker… then immediately let go when I registered who it was. It was a scared looking kid, who looked to be a bit younger than me… or shorter at least. I recognized him.
“Sacred?” I asked, confused. “How are you still alive?”
“This isn’t the time! Look around you, man!” He gripped me by the shoulders and turned me around. Through the windows of the shop, was a mob of noobs. Noobs were clawing at us through the barred shop windows. Unsuccessfully, for now. That’s where the banging, and the shattering glass and twisting wood was coming from.

Not caring about being gentle, I quickly ran across the people who were still asleep, and kicked them all in the ribs to get them up. We were all exhausted from the trials and hard times we’ve been through, but that didn’t entitle us to any amount of resting time.

Not in this world.

“WHAT THE ****?” MoD was up in a flash as I kicked him, rifle centred on me. I barely had time to duck out of the way before he fired off a shot, which tore through the air and struck an unlucky noob in the shoulder, knocking him down. It also put a hole in the wood below the window, which the noobs instantly began using to tear away at, piece by piece. The hole was growing steadily.

“I’ll kick your ass later, let’s get out of here!” I ran, ignoring MoD’s apologies. Just then, Scarecrow and Myself walked in through the back door, holding the heavy metal door shut behind them.
“What the **** is happening?” Scarecrow shouted to us as he barricaded the door. I wondered the exact same thing. Scarecrow didn’t seem one to slack off, but it sure looked like that was what he had done.
“Where the **** were you?” I shouted back. “I thought you were on watch!”
“We went to get supplies, we left MoD on watch!” Myself shouted.
I made a mental note to kick MoD’s ass twice as hard. Sacred saw that we were up and running, and began leading the way towards the wall that Scarecrow and Myself were standing at. Myself climbed on top of a set of shelves and began spraying the noobs with bullets from his M16.

Then, the shooting abruptly stopped. Myself just stood completely still for a second, and slowly turned to stare at the wall behind him. Suddenly, he turned back to us with his hand cupped over his mouth like a microphone. “STOP! GO BACK!” He shouted, and he and Scarecrow started running back towards us at what seemed to be an impossible speed. We all stopped in our tracks, looking to see what he was talking about. Just seconds later, the entire wall that Myself and Scarecrow had just been standing by was violently caved in, demolished as if the wall was made of paper and not stone. Debris smashed into the other side of the store, and splinters of wood were strewn everywhere. If we had kept going that way, we’d be paste right about now.

Too awestruck to run, I stared into the swirling mass of dust and smoke. Then out of the smoke, burst a gigantic, muscular noob, whose head, even while he was on all fours, scraped the roof of the shop we were in.

It was an impossible sight, each of its arms were as thick and as tall as me. The legs were much shorter, built like a gorilla’s, and its whole body except the head was bristling with muscles, stacked on muscles, stacked on muscles.

“I said get moving!” Myself shouted as he sprinted towards me. He holstered his M16, roughly scooped me onto his shoulders, and began running once more, faster than I could ever hope to run myself. Behind us, Scarecrow was carrying Flood and MoD, and Strung was following us at the rear.

The hulking noob roared, and followed us at an amazing speed for its size, easily smashing through the overturned counters and spilled goods. Each footfall was loud and intimidating, and I hoped stronger than I’ve ever hoped before that Myself didn’t trip or drop me.

Behind me, I could hear a crazy idea formulating between Scarecrow and StrunG.
“Don’t worry about me!” Scarecrow yelled over to StrunG. “I’ll be fine. Everyone, get to cover!”
Shortly afterwards, we blasted through the plastic doors that led to the shop’s storage area. There was a small alcove that led to two perpendicular hallways, one leading to cold storage and the other leading to storage in general. Scarecrow stood in this alcove while the rest of us continued. We took a right down one of the hallways, before Myself threw me off of him. Everybody ducked behind various cover. I was behind a fridge.

“Come and get me you small-penised, roid-guzzling freak!” Scarecrow shouted at the beast that chased us. With a roar, it sped up, clearly intending to flatten Scarecrow against the wall like a pancake. With a grin, he drew his Griffin, and loaded the two bullets.
The noob was coming too quickly for Scarecrow to dodge at the last second, and he knew that. I didn’t see how he intended to dodge out of the way.
But again, Scarecrow did.
Milliseconds before he would be crushed, he ducked down below the beast’s flying tackle, and fired the BMG Maldi Griffin. The shot was deafening in the confined space, and the bullet itself had torn the monster’s leg clean off, and had obliterated a good amount of its abdomen. Scarecrow got past the beast by moving through the now empty space where its leg would otherwise have been. Blood sprayed all over the room, and poured down Scarecrow’s front as he slid under the bleeding stump.

As it screamed out in pain, rage, and frustration, the noob’s body was carried forward by momentum, and it smashed through the wall. The hole gave us a clear path to the outside, and into safety.

Not so mighty anymore, the beast feebly clawed at us, until two shots were put into its head by StrunG. The beast had fallen.

Nice way to start our journey, I’d say.

Chapter 7

It was still dark out. We’d been woken up at what, based on the moon, seemed to be around three o’clock AM, and it was still in the dead of night. Me, Scarecrow and StrunG had all taken turns at yelling at MoD, StrunG actually punched him out and that almost started a big fight, but Sacred managed to calm things down.

This Sacred guy is pretty interesting to me, so far. He seems to enjoy the company of our team, and he’s provided some pretty decent ideas on getting our camp set

-----Reserved for updates,,,,-----

-----also for updates;;;;;;;-----

-----post reserved for updates-----

-----;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;-----

-----,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,-----

-----ggggggggggggggggggggg-----

That sure is a lot of updates there, good sir.

each one of those will have 2 or three chapters or something along those lines

I love you intensely.

oh u

Haha, this is great. Somewhat sad because it is kind of true. =(