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Server time (UTC): 2019-06-20, 16:22
Kazamir Konstantinovich
Character information
  1. Alias
  2. Mental
    Like a frayed knot that can't be untied
  3. Morale
    Something buried deep
  4. Date of birth
    1956-07-10 (62 years old)
  5. Place of birth
    Pusta, Chernarus
  6. Nationality
  7. Ethnicity
  8. Languages
    Russian (Fluent), Chernarussian (Well-Versed,) English (Somewhat Advanced)
  9. Relationship
    Katya Konstantinovich; missing, divorced
  10. Family
    None living
  11. Religion
    Deistic Orthodox Catholic


  1. Height
    180 cm
  2. Weight
    90 kg
  3. Build
    Athletic, toned, but dwindling due to age
  4. Hair
    Somewhat lengthy, dirty blonde colour
  5. Eyes
    Light blue
  6. Alignment
    Neutral Evil
  7. Features
    - Voice is ragged, scratchy, and gravelly; damage to the epiglottis, pharynx, and vocal cords sustained during a chlorine gas attack in Syria has permanently damaged his voice.
    - Several scars, burns, and wounds dot his torso, arms, and legs from years of guerrilla fighting and mercenary work.
  8. Occupation
    Private Military Contractor, mercenary
  9. Affiliation
    The Black Roses
  10. Role
    Bodyguard, Fire Support


"I am no human being... People like me, are something else entirely."


A Dark Beginning


Like so many in Soviet SSRs like Chernarus, Kazamir Yaroslav Konstantinovich--"Kaz" as he would become known as later in life--was born in poverty and could not escape it in his early life. Like so many children in his position, he was meticulously abused and beaten by both his father (physically and psychologically) and his mother (through apathetic, if not unintentional neglect). Like so many impoverished, hopeless youth, Kazamir turned to independence and crime as soon as he was able. Pettiness was at the heart of it--stealing bread and fish to feed himself; lifting cheap jewelry and liquor; rummaging through the garbage of others when the simple act of theft wasn't enough.

Like many people disgusted and perplexed by their seemingly inescapable situation, Kazamir attempted to escape the first chance he could. Approached by unscrupulous actors promising "untapped wealth," they offered him a chance at life; an opportunity to become something great.

At the ripe age of 18, Kazamir abandoned his hometown of Pusta, deep in the northeastern corner of Chernarus, and traveled to the heart of the Soviet Union itself--the headquarters of the Committee for State Security (KGB) in Moscow.


A Darker Promise


These unscrupulous actors were, of course, not good-faith actors extending a hand of good-faith to a downtrodden individual. Like so many hopeful deals, they turn out to be, at best, unpleasant disappointments; at worst, horrible mistakes.

It is easy to decide which one Kazamir found himself in.

These unscrupulous actors were not good men, but rather, some of the worst--Russian arms dealers, black market operatives that scoured Soviet SSRs for potential young, impressionable candidates to recruit to their cause. Young Kazamir was the perfect candidate. His task? Insert himself into the highest echelons of the Soviet security agency to gain close access to the Soviet Unions' most precious weapons and armaments to mount a heist of weapons never before seen in the history of the USSR.

A perhaps insurmountable task--Kazamir, in his youthful bravado, took on the task. Of course, the amount of time it would take for him to be officially suggested and officiated as a KGB officer or Alpha Group operative (better known as Spetsnaz) would be a timetable the arms dealer, Borz Olkel, had the patience for. With the shuffling of documents, advantageous exploitation of Soviet corruption, and ample Rubles passing hands, Kazamir was sent off to a clandestine Alpha Group training facility. Even the determined Kazamir was barely able to surpass and overcome the grueling, nearly insurmountable physical and psychological tests would-be Alpha Group members were forced to succumb to. Nevertheless, he persisted and became--albeit through some chicanery--a member of the Soviet special forces.

This chapter in his life, however, did not last long; while he did enjoy a few operational victories under his belt, the pressure of Olkel and his group was mounting--the amount of weapons and ammunition they were asking him to procure and isolate to be shipped off from a swapped military truck was far too much for he, or any small team that would attract no attention, could complete.

This chapter in his life came to an abrupt close--during a routine training operation involving the establishment of surveillance equipment in an open building i.e. warehouse or factories, Kazamir suddenly and without notice vanished.

With no choice but to run, Kazamir escaped Moscow and went off the radar in a hope to escape the threats of the Russian arms dealers. Alone, thousands of miles from home, with hardly any money to his name and the hammer of the Soviet Union ready to come down on him for desertion... like many people that feel isolated and cornered, he turned to darker solutions, darker responses, darker actions.


A Darkening Future


On the run with no one to help him, Kazamir turned to the only thing he knew--stealing and killing. One taught in the unfortunate circumstances of his early years, one taught to him by the merciless hand of the Soviet Union. He turned to private contractors, mercenaries, essentially; people that would hire him to protect things that needed protecting, escort things that needed escorting, and kill things that they wanted dead. An occupation that scares many and disgusts more, the occupation suited the desperate Kazamir perfectly--escape to faraway places under the guise of anonymity, wearing a uniform without a flag.

Kazamir spent the next several decades of his life working for multiple Soviet, post-Soviet, and American private military companies (PMCs), profiting off the chaos and discord sowed by the fall of the Soviet Union and the subsequent conflicts that ensued across the world. Although Kazamir (or Kaz, as he came to be known by his brothers-in-arms) married in 1994, his relationship with Katya Bystri was relatively shaky for its 18-year life and built on lies, for "Kaz" never told the truth as to his wife as to how he earned such a fortune ("investments in emerging Western markets," he told her). His life on the battlefield wearing no flag sent him across the war-torn countries of the world, including former Yugoslavia, Somalia, Afghanistan, Syria (where his throat was permanently injured by a chlorine gas attack), and half a dozen other countries that were constantly touted about on the news.


The Darkest End?


Spending his life fighting for the flag or person that paid him the most, Kazamir returned to Chernarus broke and alone. His divorce of Katya in 2012 left him with nothing but a relatively meager savings account. He moved to a shoddy, 1-person home on the outskirts of Berezino, where he spent years languishing his losses, defeats, and mistakes--and always wanting to kill someone, thinking that was the best way to remedy his problems.

Come late 2016, the global infection took over the world; Kazamir, a fan of new beginnings, grabbed his rifle, his prepared bugout bag--in case his crimes ever caught up with him--and started his life over once again.


Months later, and humanity has fallen. Kazamir spent his entire life fighting for himself and for those that paid him.

Some things never change.



Kazamir is a hardened, callous, psychopathic hyperindividualist. Perhaps due only to his circumstances, or due to innate evil within him, he has overseen and performed literally dozens of war crimes and objectively heinous acts of terror and war. The number of murders he has committed for the profit of warmongering private companies must range in the hundreds; he is cold-hearted, apathetic and dismissive to the mere concept of humanity. A reactionary nationalist, he holds no love for foreigners of his country (even though he himself has been an invading foreigner of dozens of impoverished, distraught areas), and silently holds sympathy to NAPA (the Chernarussian nationalist party), although he was a relatively apolitical individual when things like that mattered. He has an almost blatant disregard for any concept of the sanctity of life or civility in general, believing that people are no more than selfish, narcissistic, and oblivious individuals that hold no value to him; everyone is merely an asset or a resource. With that said, he does not actively search for conflict, but has no filter of his dark, cynical, often ignoble opinions. He is incredibly difficult to get along with, practically despising conversation or "small talk," and doesn't seem to have an agreeable bone in his body. He is, however, prone to making crass, dark, almost immature jokes about situations in the company of people he finds more tolerable.


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