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Server time (UTC): 2019-11-22, 06:31
Harry Green
Character information
  1. Mental
    Sane
  2. Morale
    Depressed
  3. Date of birth
    1993-09-21 (26 years old)
  4. Place of birth
    Bath, England
  5. Nationality
    British
  6. Ethnicity
    White British
  7. Languages
    English
  8. Relationship
    None.
  9. Family
    Jon - Father (Unknown). Jenny - Mother (Unknown)
  10. Religion
    Athiest

Description

  1. Height
    179 cm
  2. Weight
    80 kg
  3. Build
    Strong build, quite muscular with a large physique.
  4. Hair
    Brown, growing slightly long and straggly, kept under a cap most of the time.
  5. Eyes
    Blue
  6. Alignment
    True Neutral
  7. Features
    Large beard, a few small scars of cuts and gashes across upper chest and arms. Small bite mark on lower right leg from an animal.
  8. Equipment
    Civilian camping gear, survival vest, survival knife, felling axe, compass, glowstick, walkie talkie.
  9. Occupation
    Ranger
  10. Affiliation
    None
  11. Role
    None

Background

After he made the last swing, he collapsed to the ground, tears flowing from his eyes as his screams echoed through the forest.

Harry was on a fishing trip in South Zagoria, after hearing about the opportunity to catch some great trophy freshwater fish in the lakes to the north of the province. They arrived in the country on the morning of the May 2nd 2017, and decided they would stay until they had seen what they wanted to. He had taken his friend Joe with him to go, and although he wasn't too keen on fishing, he wanted to see the forests of the east and how the natural world changes across the planet. They both arrived at the Krasnostav airport after taking a small Cessna there from the airport near Novigrad, and headed east to the forests north of Berezino. They reached Black lake and set up their tents nearby, hoping for a nice few days of fishing and nature watching. Indeed, for the first few days it was truly a beautiful experience, with the light sea breeze and, as promised, the fish really were something special, Prize Carp, trout, and a few monster eels that Harry scared Joe with. Joe rarely stayed at the tents with Harry to fish, instead trekking around the forests around them. They were totally unaware of the martial law that gripped the country just a day after they arrived, and the land seemed at peace. On the 7th of July they moved their camp the short march to the south at Willow lake, and stayed there for around another week, taking in more of the beautiful natural scenery and Harry enjoying the fishing scene again. They had little knowledge of the events that took place during that week, and the bombing of the storage base to the North became nothing more than echoes through the hills. The only evidence of Military activity was a , although unknown to them, Russian jet that flew in from the east across the black sea to hit the base. Luckily, most infected that came down from the north on the 12th and further in the week came from the direction of Severograd to Berezino, and avoided the lakes, and Harry and Joe remained free from any trouble of the infected through that week. 

On the 14th, Joe left the camp as he usually did, apparently this time he was going to head into the hills to the north to check something or other out, but Harry wasn't listening, he was focusing on the prospect of getting some delicious fish for his lunch. He set up his equipment and baited his line, casting out into the middle of the lake with a clear degree of skill and grace. He sat there most of the day, taking in the view and letting the fish come to him. He had a delicious lunch, and as he enjoyed his fish, Joe staggered out of forest on the other side of the lake. He raised a hand and shouted a quick greeting before returning to his line. Joe made his way around the lake to him.

"We have to move now!" he stammered. "Hmm, why?" Harry looked to Joe with a hint of disbelief and surprise. Joe sat down on his camp chair, and explained what he had seen, waves of infected flowing down the main roads in hordes, attacking those trapped in cars as they tried to flee, and devouring whole villages of people. Harry laughed, and exclaimed "You have always been good at making shit up Joe! Beer?" He gestured to a cooler. Joe's eyes... they looked different, empty, but with a fire inside, somewhere deep inside. "Are you... alright Joe?" Harry questioned, grabbing his shoulder. Joe jumped with shock at this movement, and quickly shoved his hand away. "Im... Im sorry, but what I saw was real, we have to go now!" Harry saw something change in him, and noticed something, a bulge around his ankle under his trouser, as if something was wrapped around it. "What is that around your leg J-" "Its nothing! Lets go!" He got inside the tent, and starting taking all his belongings and putting them in his backpack. Harry shook his head, "Guess the fish will wait." and began packing his stuff up as well.

They left the lake in the next hour, and after eating a small snack set off west, towards the airstrip, as Joe had suggested just after they finished packing up. They climbed the hill at Olsha, stopping for dinner at the foot of the radio tower, looking down towards the airstrip and further down into Krasnostav, where Harry finally saw what Joe had seen. Hordes of infected, Civilian, Military following the main roads south, towards Berezino. At first, he refused to believe what he saw, and sat there in disbelief, in a state of shock, before a coughing fit from Joe took him out of it. "Are you alright man?" He asked with fear. "Im... F-fine" he said through staggered breaths. He noticed specks of blood on his palm where he held it up to his mouth, and Joe frantically scratched at a spot on his leg not far from where the thing was wrapped around. "What happened to you? Honestly this time, no cutting me off, what the fuck has happened man?" Joe looked to him, the fear in his face completely undisguised. "One of the... Uh... infec- things" He stopped, breaking into another coughing fit. "It um.... bit my leg." He rolled up his trouser leg he said it, revealing a hideously stained cloth, with a rash spreading up his leg. He looked at Harry again, a tear forming around his eye. He let it roll down his face. Harry looked at him in complete shock and fear, and stammered through his choked breaths "Y...Your face... crying... blood." Joe wiped his face, seeing the smear of fresh blood on the back of his hand. 

They moved into the forest just west of Olsha, and set up a camp there. Joe led inside the tent, his coughs breaking the silence of the forest. Even the birds seemed to be gone, the forest... its very spirit was corrupted by the events that had unfolded. Harry sat there all night, watching him through the open tent door from outside, as Joes coughs became thinner, as his breaths became more ragged and split with each passing minute. Blood dripped regularly through his closed eyes, forming a red trails of pain down the side of his face, and his trouser leg became soaked through, with some kind of clear fluid from the rash. Harry sat outside the tent, listening as his own tears flooded down his face, catching in his beard. The breathing from inside the tent stopped, and he sobbed uncontrollably for hours, the forest the only witness to his sorrow. The night was broken by the orange rays of the sun breaking through the trees, as light bore down on Harry's face, clear trails of tears through the dirt on his face finally visible.

A grunt, clearly identifiable in the silence came from the tent. Harry looked up, and rushed inside the tent, tripping over the lip on the floor as he rushed inside. He looked at Joe's face, clearly for the first time in hours. The rash had spread onto his face, forming a horrible pattern, a pattern of death across his face. the eyes moved, now grey, and lifeless, without colour or soul, looking right at Harry. Another grunt came. He... It... He, was animalistic, the traces of humanity, of morality, of experience, of memory, of pain, of joy now erased, a shell, a husk. He rose, his teeth grinding together. "Joe?" Harry said with the fear clear in his voice. He began crawling backwards out of the tent. He took his survival knife from his boot, holding out in front of him, his arm shaking uncontrollably. "Joe! What are you doing?!" It started advancing towards him, like some newborn without knowledge of walking, almost sliding towards him. Harry thrust forward, not at anything at particular, just to show that he could attack, but his advance was unwavering. "Joe.... please... Don't make me..." Harry said, his voice broken. It still came. Harry stood up, taking his knife and bringing it down into Joe's skull. It shattered with a horrifying crunch, and gore splattered his hand. He kept swinging, making sure Joe wouldn't suffer. IT.... IT.... lay still. 

After he made the last swing, he collapsed to the ground, tears flowing from his eyes as his screams echoed through the forest.

He gathered his things, packing up the camp, and set off deeper into the forest, leaving behind a fresh mound of earth, with a crude cross made from forest sticks sticking out of the ground. Clearly cut into the wood was the word "JOE" , with some of the letters of the word stained with blood from the same knife that made the kill.


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