The fan-expanded universe


"Entry Log 1-1" by Stormy Boi

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This is shadow company soldier Mitchell reporting on our most recent patrol. Ever since the infection started most military units and installations moved to underground bases for better safety and security. The surface has become too dangerous, both because of the number of infected, but also because of the increasing number of mutations that have been spawning from them. These mutations are much more powerful and intelligent than typical infected, which has forced top brass to change their tactics to combat this infection, thus the move underground. 

The patrol today had a small anomaly that confused myself as well as my friend Dominick, the other soldier that went on patrol with me. When we ventured above ground we passed an old checkpoint and found a body on top of the sand bags. The body was fresh, too fresh for the area we were in,Also of importance was his uniform. It was military but looked more like a researchers outfit than a soldiers. When we searched the body more we uncovered things that had us both confused and somewhat fearful. 

Firstly, he didn't die from the infected, but rather exhaustion. We went over his body and did not find any external damage, but signs of severe exhaustion and lack of water. Also of significance, his footwear was severely worn out, so much so they were about to fall off. When we removed them for further inspection we found his feet were covered in numerous blisters and other injuries. We concluded that he must have been running non-stop, most likely trying to reach out base, but from who or what we do not know.

I have my fears about these findings, and for good reason. When we reported this to our superiors their faces expressed grave concern and we were excused immediately. We were also instructed under threat of treason to not disclose this information to anyone else in the base. It's not my position to question them, nor should I jump to conclusions either, but I believe that they might know what that person was running from. It's no secret someone engineered this infection, but after today I can't even trust what my superiors are saying either. 

I pray I'm just being paranoid, but I can't be too sure. I'm making this entry log to document my findings and preserve it in case something may happen to me. Hopefully this will be my only log, but if my fears are right, than there will be more to log soon.

This is Captain Mitchell Boone ending my log.

End of entry log 1-1


"Incident Log 22-5" by Stormy Boi


Alaskan Outpost 7

While on patrol, 2 men of the 5th squad  stumbled across the lower half of a human torso. After further investigation the men also found an accompanying arm with a data pad clutched in it's hand. Both men noted the clothing that remained on both the torso as well as the arm as being military in nature, but any insignia was either unknown or not present. Both men also tried to access the information on the data pad but both were unable to access any data, noting that the pad was secured with many levels of military grade encryptions. 


Upon return to Outpost 7 the data pad was submitted to command and has since been given to technicians to exam and attempt to access the contents of the data pad. As of the time of this incident report submission technicians have accessed some parts of the data pad, with the phrases Eden, mothership, and infection being repeated  numerous times in the data pad. Further information will be released once the data pad has been fully accessed.


"The Fate of Dagfyn" Jack Bauer

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    “Easy Mathilda,” Sir Elliot heard Yldwin gently whisper to his stead. The four soldiers had been tramping their way through the smelly old quagmire for some time now, their captives dragging behind them. Two large, meaty men of scruffy hair and bear skin clothes walked quietly behind the group, arms bound by chains and backs furiously swollen from beating and whipping. 
    “Are you ready to tell us where the rest of your people are?” Sir Elliot questioned, the apparent frustration in his voice slowly building up. “The chief is a mighty man. He will not be found by your imperial kind,” one of the men mumbled. Sir Elliot passed, thinking of a different approach. “What is your name barbarian?” He decided to ask. “After three hours of beating, interrogating, and dragging us through a swampy meadow now you want to know our names?” The larger and rougher man snarked. “He is Bjorne, the finest axe thrower in our village. I’m Dagfyn, an archer guard,” the second skinnier, more stoic man stated flatly while staring emptily ahead. 

Alaskan Outpost 7

    “Well, I’m Sir Wesley Elliot, imperial captain serving under the slayer queen, and if you think I am cruel, just wait until you meet the man who is in charge of your fate, sir Quintin,” the armor clad soldier riding high on his horse stated. “Sir, I think I hear something,” the soldier named Yldwin murmured. “Well you know the drill. Abel, you flank left, Casper, you flank right. I will scout ahead and Yldwin will stay back here with the prisoners,” the captain commanded. Within a second the four soldiers scattered out on their horses in every direction. “It could have been a rabbit you know,” Bjorne mumbled, only to be hit in the face with butt of Yldwin’s sword. “Silence you filthy Viking,” the soldier spat. 

    Dagfyn looked to his left to see the soldier named Abel, a young, light haired, heavily armored, sword wielding man poised around fifty feet away, his arm outstretched and his sword glimmering in the air. Suddenly, his stead wildly reared back, whining and whimpering in fear. “What’s wrong Alexander?” Abel said as he nervously looked back and forth through the thick of the meadow, sword at the ready. In a second, faster than Dagfyn could comprehend, Abel violently fell back off the horse and crashed to the ground, a long, wooden arrow pierced right through his skull. “ELLIOT! ABEL’S DOWN!” Yldwin shouted as he leaped off his horse and ran towards Abel’s corpse. Before he got even half way there a grotesque figure launched out from the trees and tackled the soldier to the ground. With only its bare hands and sharp teeth, it ripped through his armor and began to devour flesh. 
    The savage growls of the dead and screeches of pain from Yldwin and whimpering of horses and and shouting of soldiers all rose up into a chaotic crescendo of pandemonium. Blood splattered every which way. Dagfyn and Bjorne began to unlock their chains with the key hooked to Yldwin’s horse’s saddle. Before he knew it, a mighty club rose high above Bjorne’s head and came down upon him, bashing his skull in. Just as Bjorne and his horrifically damaged head collapsed to the ground in a bloody mess Dagfyn unlocked himself and went sprinting as fast as he could into the forest. After some time he looked back only to see Sir Elliot, surrounded by undead, barely able to fend them off. The last thing he saw before he was out of view was the soldier being dragged down into a horde of ravage zombies, his screams echoing throughout the entire swamp. 

One day later

“Wake up ruffian!”

    Dagfyn shot up and looked around, eyes not adjusted to the bright daylight. He had spent the night sleeping in a little alcove between two boulders. Standing in front him were several armored equestrians wielding spears and Brickonian banners. “My name is Sir Isaac Quintin, and you are under arrest by the Imperial forces for years of excessive plundering and looting of imperial cargo,” the leading knight said. “Don’t worry, I got caught in the woods too. We are gonna be best friends!” Said another prisoner chained up nearby. “Quiet you peasant,” a knight spat. “It’s Barran!” The peasant shouted back only to be met with a shove to the ground. “We are gonna have a lot of fun with you in the pit,” Sir Quintin said with a wicked grin.

“By the fists of Odin.”

"The Last Account" Colonel Cutthroat


Day 5: there's so much blood. There's just so much blood. Those things are everywhere. I had to kill a couple of them. Ms. Jasey. She was always nice to me but I guess it doesn't matter. She's dead and the blood is everywhere. I was lucky that the riot man had a pistol. Most people think that guns are more clean than knives or swords and in a way they are but if you shoot a zombie or whatever you would call them in with a shotgun the mess would be worse than any knife could do. 

Day 10 
There were a bunch of jeeps that had stopped here today. The jeeps had the word's with the word TAN on them. I was half tempted to try to run out but the way they shot those "moaners" as I heard one call them, I am a little hesitant. But considering they seem to be searching each and every house it's obvious that they are going to find me anyway. If these entry's end here then you know.

Day 17
As you can tell from this log…I'm still alive. I approached the "TANs" ,as they call themselves, and they asked me if I were bit. I said I wasn't and they handcuffed me. I was lucky to put my journal in my backpack or however is reading this probably would think I am dead. But, no they ,thankfully, didn't put a bullet in the back of my skull. Instead they put me in one of their jeeps and drove off. I dozed off and I woke up to being pushed into what I can only describe as an isolation chamber. They threw me in there ,still handcuffed I must add, and locked the door. I would do a dramatic saying that "the days turned into weeks and I lost track of time" but it was probably morning when the door opened and three people came in. Two had shotguns and the third had a tray with some breakfast on it.
"Up against the wall" one said and pointed the shotgun at me.

I complied. They made me face the wall and they uncuffed me. Then they dropped the tray and left. The breakfast they gave me was some cereal but I ate it happily even though there was no milk I still happily ate it. After breakfast someone called Jennele came in and explained the precautions they had to take. I.E handcuffing me and throwing me in an isolation ward. 
They offered me a choice to help them or be dropped off where I was found with a pistol and two days of rations. 
I of course choose the first options.
Now tomorrow I am to go on a supply run at some old abandoned house.

Day ???
It's night. The moaners are still out at the edge of the cave. I'm out of ammo for my pistol and the others are probably dead. It was all going well until something with red eyes came at us. That thing could absorb bullets as if they were nothing. I'm gonna call those things Red Eyes. If I ever make it out of here. It was so horrifying I saw another person's legs on its body. I was scared. I ran. The gunfire attracted moaner and here I am. There's a chest here with an RPG but only one shot. I can't use it. The whole cave will come down. But it's either that or starving. 
Guess you will find out which happened.