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Server time (UTC): 2019-08-26, 06:27
Salvatore Palladino
Character information
  1. Alias
  2. Mental
  3. Morale
    I want to help repair the world I fucked
  4. Date of birth
    1996-06-06 (23 years old)
  5. Place of birth
    Syracuse, New York.
  6. Nationality
  7. Ethnicity
  8. Languages
  9. Relationship
  10. Family
    Mother, Father, Sister in America.
  11. Religion
    Agnostic Athiest


  1. Height
    174 cm
  2. Weight
    75 kg
  3. Build
  4. Hair
    Messy, unkept.
  5. Eyes
  6. Alignment
    True Neutral
  7. Features
    Nothing of note
  8. Occupation
  9. Affiliation
  10. Role


It was always fucking Isaac. Ever since the start of my damn time in Chernarus, Dr. Isaac fucking Merkov was pulling the strings on my life. He’s the one that suggested kidnapping that woman, and he’s the one that carved the dollar into her back! He’s the sicko, not me! 

Let me clear this up. I ran away from Chernarus because I was trying to set up a bank. I thought it would be interesting to create actual functioning currency, but it was all taken away from me. The closest I ever got to my goal was in Grishino, and that’s where I met Isaac. That man stuck to me almost instantly, and we became something of friends. Now, soon after this I was kidnapped and enslaved by a group of people who called themselves ‘Abyss Corp’, and they wanted me to set up my bank system inside their town. Actually, no, they wanted to kill me first, but I somehow managed to convince them that the bank would be beneficial to everybody, so they let me live. 

Thats where the fun started. You see, after I managed to escape, I knew I had to take revenge somehow, but I knew it would be almost impossible to get at their leader, Harrison, so I went for the next best option; his wife. I know, it’s scummy, but I had the literal humanity beaten out of me by those men, I had to do something. 

Before I took her, I tried to rally people to my cause against The House, but people criticized me for it, for whatever fucking reason. I tried to set up a private discussion between group leaders about it, and someone said something about my motivations, maybe they were not pure, and everyone backed out, for literally no reason.

So, I was stuck at a crossroads. I had to do something, so I did. I took his wife and shot her in the leg. I fucking hated every second of it, she had no part in what was going on, yet, I hurt her. Isaac, though? God damn, that guy was insane. He laughed the whole time, and while he was laughing, brandished a knife and began carving into her back. He carved a dollar sign into her. I couldn’t watch as he did it, but I remember his laugh. It was the laugh of a maniac, and he enjoyed every second of it. That’s when I knew I was messing with someone I shouldn’t be, and I think he realized I was having second thoughts about him. 

Soon after, they began hunting for me. It was war. Well, not war, as I only had a few men and they had a lot. It wasn’t a fight we were gonna win. At the end of it all, Isaac lured me into a tower and called the boys from The House (Ex Abyss Corp) and told them where I was. I got all of the blame for what happened to that poor woman... even though I hardly did anything. That maniac forced me to leave the country, or else I’d be killed in my sleep. 

So, I did. I fled north to Takistan, and managed to integrate with a group of free roaming medics. I didn’t know much about medicine, but I felt like I had a lot I owe to the world, after everything I’ve done to it. Well, everything kind of worked out for the better, for about a year, but then we were attacked. A large group of bandits raided us and killed everybody. I only managed to escape with my life because I was carrying blood bags, which I emptied on myself to make it seem like I was dead. It was over in a few minutes, but it was the longest few minutes of my life.

I had done some research into Chernarus, and I learned that the group what was hunting me were killed off, so I should be set to venture back. The first thing I saw was a man with someone else’s face covering his. I mean, he had cut someone else’s face off, and put it over his own. 

Great, this place hasn’t changed at all. 




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