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Arkadij Ruban
Character information
  1. Alias
  2. Mental
  3. Morale
  4. Date of birth
    1986-09-20 (33 years old)
  5. Place of birth
    Prague, Czech Republic
  6. Nationality
  7. Ethnicity
  8. Languages
    English, Czech, Finnish.


  1. Height
    176 cm
  2. Weight
    78 kg
  3. Build
    Woefully average
  4. Hair
  5. Eyes
    Pale green
  6. Alignment
    Lawful Neutral
  7. Features
    *Pale skinned.
    *Clean hands and attempts of maintaining hygeine.
    *Shaved head, stubble.
    *Glasses, though not always on him.
  8. Equipment
    *Well-maintained hazmat/chemical suit.
    *Personal stash of charcoal tablets & empty, cleaned gasmask filters.
    *His germophobia.
    *Small, canvas zipper-bag containing the following.
    -Three pens of various colour, ink.
    -A small scrapbook, containing glued scraps from instructional books, with added notes of his own.
    -Stick of glue.


Saturday, 13.07.2019 

This a personal memoir for myself, to remember where i came from and who i am while this hellscape lasts...

I was born in Prague, my mother told me. A little earlier than had been scheduled, even more so. And despite the risks of cerebral palsy or other disabilities, i came to grow up just alright, even if i was just a bit scrawnier than the other kids. Of course, i was picked on during my kindergarten and school-years, as could be expected, but besides putting down the fists a few times in the yard, my mother praised me for the patience i had presented before resorting to such tacts. She regaled to me how it was a good sign, that i'd grow up with a focused mind, and my brothers only played into the choir further, encouraging me. I would later recieve a letter, that she had passed away suddenly, when i was about twenty five.

I held my bond with my brothers though, as they took me out atleast once a week, to do whatever, be it a drink in the pub, talking to eachother, competeting, occassional bouts of cooking or by rare chance, getting a taste of firearms in the moments we could go out to a shooting range. I was never big on military service, but the interest to action movies and the chance of learning how to use a real gun was something  i wanted to do. One session by one, weeks passing, i became somewhat comfortable with handguns, while learning to be responsible with my guns.

At age of fifteen, i already knew what i wanted to do. Attracted to biology, the field of medicine and the possibility of a career attached. A very demanding job to practice for, but all the more rewarding for it. It began with an academic degree, followed with years spent studying, doing internships and even travelling abroad to other countries, mainly Finland and UK for a brief spouts that were suggested by his mentors and coworkers. I made alot of good friends back then, even met someone i could call my own for a couple months, close to a year, before i had to reluctantly let go, as it was time to go follow a potential position in Chernarus, the country that was still rebuilding from the war.

The days were a blur, but i barely had managed to settle in during the first few day. The constant blare of news from the northern end of the country only kept getting worse for what it appeared. I eventually came to the same conclusion as rest, as i packed my bags only to get stuck at the airport with some other foreigners looking for a way out. The local CDF organizing the evacuation pointed us to the Kamenka checkpoint to the west, whenever to go by foot or otherwise. I was lucky enough to carpool with a couple swedes on vacation and now on the run to try and flee the country. Unfortunately, we came to dead end like most. The endless chains of traffic and car, people being checked and otherwise. I managed to find temporary moments to volunteer my knowledge of medicine fleeing countrymen, foreigners, the soldiers holding the checkpoint, and those trying to pass it. Offering my experience in medicine to help the fleeing people, i found myself stuffed into a civilian chemical suit as a term, 'to protect me from the contaminants.' I later figured they were concerned of infected people among the hoards. But we didn't have the moment to find out, as the night came to pass, we were eventually found overrun. The bright flashes of military-grade rifles in the darkness along with the feral screaming of bloodied men and women is all i left behind when i ran into the northern forests. A gamble i would make, to survive the night with what i had on me, or find myself mauled like the soldiers trying to evacuate what was left of the country.

I remained hidden, scratching tallies on the notebook i had on me. About a week or so passing, i eventually re-emerged, having lived off abandoned cottages and hunting stands...

...and it was deathly quiet. Only a lone husk of a man or two wandering through the streets, only driven by it's animalistic intent to feed and maul. I only made a conclusion that this was some bizarre virus, or bloodborne infection. Whichever or whatever the causes was, i wanted to protect myself. Anyone knew how to swing a crowbar, or use a knife, but what about things that may have been harder to combat; the infection itself, regular sickness in the absence of medicine, or injuries? I eventually found my answer in the form of some chemical suits and gasmasks. Essentially insulating myself, i realized i still had to take the gloves off for certain tasks. Hygeine, handwashing, disinfecting. Clean tools. Everything presented potentiality. If i could figure a way to cleanse items, i could bring the chance of survival to those i meet. Clean clothes, medical aid, properly prepared food items.. I would give everybody a clean chance.


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