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Server time (UTC): 2019-11-11, 23:32
Mikhail Eastwood
Character information
  1. Alias
  2. Mental
    Sound - yet untrusting
  3. Morale
  4. Date of birth
    1985-01-27 (34 years old)
  5. Place of birth
    Vladivostok, Russia
  6. Nationality
  7. Ethnicity
  8. Languages
    English, Russian
  9. Relationship
  10. Family
  11. Religion


  1. Height
    182 cm
  2. Weight
    90 kg
  3. Build
  4. Hair
    Brown, Long, tied in the back.
  5. Eyes
    Blueish Gray
  6. Alignment
    Chaotic Neutral
  7. Features
    Eastwood walks with a slight limp on his leg but other than that it does not seem to impair his movements. He is often seen touching a small silver charm attached to a rope around his neck when deep in thought.
  8. Equipment
    A rifle, hunting knife, fire-ax and a backpack. He keeps the bare essentials and does not like to horde. For the most part, he lives out of his backpack which also serves as his bailout bag in a moments notice. If you come upon a trail of bodies and didn't hear shots - hes close.
  9. Occupation
    Military Police Officer
  10. Affiliation
    None yet
  11. Role
    Tracker / Hunter


Mikhail Eastwood was a Military Police Officer charged with the defense of a secret military installation that was recently handed over to the fledgling country after the fall of the USSR where his primary tasks included watching TV and enjoying what many considered to be a retirement job. However, on his way to work one morning, Eastwood stopped his vehicle in Berenzino watching Mi-24 Hinds and Mi-8 Troop Transports bearing the Russian Federation Red Star buzz low and fast overhead heading toward the facility. A cold chill ran down his spine as a flashback of the 2009 Civil War filled his vision. "What are they doing here..." he whispered quietly as he saw a vehicle speeding quickly into town and slamming on the brakes as it screeched to a halt in front of him. Eastwood, standing in his uniform next to his own vehicle, looked at the man with a confused look - as if asking by look alone what was going on. "Spetznatz, they have taken the facility. They shot at me as I was merely passing by! Look at my car!" and while the man was speaking Eastwoods eyes noticed the large holes in the mans engine compartment and the steam coming from his engine. "I just paid this off too..." the man scoffed as he slammed the door and sat on the vehicles hood.

Hours later and no news was being shared by the government about what was happening. On occasion, tense and erratic gun fire would erupt before being followed by hours of silence. The condition in the cities began to worsen too.. people abandoning their vehicles in the streets as they began to run out of gas - Eastwoods included. At this point, knowing there was little he could do, Eastwood made the decision to make the 10km walk back to Kamenka to his cottage. He had seen this situation before and if his gut was correct, he had better prepare to be living off the land for the foreseeable future.

Days went by and with seemingly little response from the fledgling government of Chernarus, Eastwood eventually made it back to his house and collected what he could carry and began to make his way back toward military installation in an attempt to ascertain what exactly was going on. It wasn't until early in the morning of July 10th did Eastwood witness 2 SU-24 Foxhounds scream overhead flying low. With binoculars in hand, two loud flashes were seen in the distance followed by the unmistakable sound of high explosive shaking his position moments later. It was then Eastwood realized that whatever was going on... the government was completely powerless to stop. Eastwood moved to a large overlook position to attempt to get a better view. However, upon arrival to the tower, all Eastwood could see was smoke and fire engulfing the entire facility making it difficult to really tell what was happening. Resolved to try again in the morning, Eastwood climbed down the tower and began to look for a area to shelter in for the night.

Drawing on his survival experience learned from the 2009 Civil War, Eastwood made a shelter utilizing nothing more than a minor heat element buried in the dirt as well as shrubs and sticks against a log to essentially create a lean-to. Sleep came hard this night, partly due to various explosions heard from the nearby facility. However, on perhaps the only time he was able to sleep, Eastwood was awakened by the sound of near by foot steps and a low groan. Whoever it was that was approached his position appeared to be injured. Listening closer, Eastwood could hear as whoever was walking was having issues maintaining their balance and appeared to be almost falling through the forest instead of navigating it. Eastwood slowly slid out of his lean-to and stood up, looking into the darkness.

"Privet.." Eastwood called out in the night. The steps stopped. "Privet Comrade..." Eastwood repeated to nothing in the middle of the night. It was then his ears honed their abilities and began to listen but heard nothing. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and like a freight train, it hit him. Nothing. Not a bug, not a owl, not a mouse... nothing. He knew he had made his mistake as silence, he recalled, was the loudest sound you would ever hear and more often than not - your last. "Pri..." He heard a snap to his left. Eastwood quickly reached down onto his belt and pulled out a flashlight and shined it upward, seeing a figure dressed in a military garb holding its head, obviously injured and stumbling slightly. Eastwood sighed with relief. "Comrade your bleeding come here... you scared me... why did you not answer you fucking monkey..." and as Eastwood took a step toward the soldier and it turned towards him, Eastwood's eyes trained upon their face.... or what was left of it. One gleaming red eye with only half a face and a skull completely cleaved off looked back at him. "What the fuck..." Eastwood whispered as the soldier belched out a bone chilling shriek. Eastwoods light was still shined in its direction and slowly, two eyes, four eyes... ten... twenty... red eyes all seemed to be looking at him.

Eastwood turned and ran... it was all he could do was to run and immediately he could hear the entire forest erupt in debris snapping and limbs breaking. Screams and screech following his every step as he continued to run. Having a decent understanding of the terrain, Eastwood knew he was heading somewhat back towards a ruined cargo ship from the days of the USSR that had crashed on the shore line. Nearing a sheer face cliff, and with the sounds of branches and footsteps quickly approaching, he riskily threw himself down it and began to slide and fall as quickly as he could down the embankment. He had done surprisingly well... until the last drop, where he mistakenly threw himself off a 15 foot ledge and landed hard onto the ground breaking his ankle with a loud snap. "AAARrrrgh" Eastwood cried out as he rolled and grasped his foot and grimaced. While looking back towards the cliff, the sight of shadows throwing themselves off of it followed by the thud of meat slamming into rock filled the air. It sounded as if a dozen or more impacts were heard at which point Eastwood began to crawl to a near by shipping container. Once nearing it, he managed to pull himself to his feet, open the door, and quickly slipped inside before closing it behind him.

Eastwoods heart was racing... never in his life had he ever seen what he just saw and a real fear gripped him as he heard the sounds of footsteps and growling fill the beach around him. As the sounds neared closer, that eerie silence returned and he could hear as the creatures brushed up and walked into his container. Eastwood held his breath as he slowly drew a hunting knife from his hip holster and held it down by his side. Suddenly, something touched him on the shoulder and without hesitation, Eastwood turned and lunged his blade outward and up striking whatever it was in the darkness that had touched him. He repeated the jab over and over again, biting down on his teeth and lips as hard as he could to refrain from making even a hair pen sound. The only thing that filled the container was the sound of flesh and bone being broken and torn followed by a soft groan and agonal breathing. After feeling whatever it was go limp in his grasp, Eastwood quickly opened the door and threw the shape outside before once more shutting it. What followed was hours upon hours of the sound of something eating and tearing flesh from bone - the sound filling his ears as he sat down in the middle of the container and hung his head.

Seemingly an eternity later, morning dawned. Eastwood didnt sleep a wink and through the night managed to craft a splint for his ankle from some oddities that he had found in the container. Peaking his head outside, Eastwood found a set of strewn and destroyed human bones with fragments of meat still hanging upon it right outside the door but they were small. Leaning own, he inspected the corpse closer and upon its left wrist he found a small bracelet with the name "Anna" etched into it. Its hands were small, frail... and it was then the reality sank in. "No...." he whispered quietly "No... no this wasn't me... it couldn't have been no..." Stumbling back into the container, the door remained open allowing the morning light to fill its inside. Looking back into the corner, Eastwood found a small diary in the corner and a pencil and upon picking it up to examine it, his suspicions were confirmed. Anna D'ecormio. French National, in Chernarus on Vacation and their next stop was Saharani, an island paradise. She was 19 years old and had been hiding in the container for the better part of 4 days after her boyfriend was bitten by a strange man and moments later tried to bite her. Her last entry was desperate, she was out of food and water and had began to gradually consume salt water of all things just to keep her mouth wet and she did not know how much longer she could hide in the container while what she referred to as the infected walked outside, seemingly more active a night.

The more Eastwood read, the more it destroyed him. Eastwood had killed before, sure, war makes a man do things. But this was different... he wasn't a murderer... or was he? "it was an accident.." he kept repeating to himself. "I never would have..." he sniffled as he looked once more at the bones outside. "I Never...." he whimpered as he held up the bracelet and looked at the name, stained in a dark crimson. "Im so sorry..." he whispered as he clutched the bracelet in his hands and looked down.

Over the next weeks, Eastwood managed to return back into the woods and pillaged various small and remote farms. The looting, rioting, and killing had only intensified as rumors and letters of cannibals had began to surface. Eastwood made it his mission to help those in need, in memory of Anna, and vowed that he would never kill again unless absolutely necessary. Keeping a low profile, he sought to gather the materials to one day hopefully setup a settlement to help those lost and in need.


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