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Joseph Fedorov
Character information
  1. Alias
    Kombat
  2. Mental
    Strong willed, has purpose.
  3. Morale
    High.
  4. Date of birth
    1983-04-23 (36 years old)
  5. Place of birth
    Chernarus, Severograd.
  6. Nationality
    Chernarussian
  7. Ethnicity
    Russian
  8. Languages
    Russian, Chernarussian, and English.
  9. Relationship
    N/A
  10. Family
    Vladimir Fedorov [deceased] ¦ Natasha Fedorov [deceased]
  11. Religion
    Atheist.

Description

  1. Height
    196 cm
  2. Weight
    104 kg
  3. Build
    Tall, military build.
  4. Hair
    Medium swept back brown hair, well kept beard.
  5. Eyes
    Brown.
  6. Alignment
    Chaotic Neutral
  7. Features
    An old bullet wound in his lower left the abdominal area. [Healed & scared]
    Scar from a shrapnel grenade on his right forearm. [Healed & scared]
  8. Equipment
    WEAPONS:
    A weathered AK-74.
    Officer's revolver.

    CLOTHING:
    Red military beret.
    Khaki Soviet military jacket.
    Black pair of jeans.
    A pair of BPR military boots.

    MISC ITEMS:
    Handheld radio.
    Pack of cigarettes & lighter.
    A copy of the Communist Manifesto.
    A cut-throat razor.
  9. Occupation
    Ex-politician, ex-mechanic.
  10. Affiliation
    Ex-B.P.R
  11. Role
    Comrade

Background

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Commandant Joseph Fedorov

Born: 23rd April 1983

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B.P.R "Белозерские волки" Militia

"Our mission has not yet been fulfilled, our destiny not resolved, and rest not allowed."
 

7th May 2018.
A man stands next to a corpse tied to post atop a hill. The end of his cigarette glows in the dwindling sunlight, and the smoke becomes obvious in the cold climate. The man’s dark jeans and a khaki jacket define him against the evening sky. He begins to search the corpse, finding only a bloodied wallet. He opens it up and pulls out a CDF ID from one of the pouches.

“Ha, looks like they got one.” He throws the wallet to a similarly dressed man climbing the hill. “CDF fascist.”

“Da Joseph, was this work of our boys?” The man replied as he tossed the wallet back.

“Judging by the number of bullets in him and the state of the campsite, I think it’s safe to assume so.Joseph said giving a half smirk to his comrade. “Come, Olaf, we must rest before the march back to Chernarus tomorrow.”

The two men slowly descent the hill sharing Joseph's cigarette and leaving the corpse in peace. Joseph Fedorov or Kombat by his men told them all to have a good feast tonight and to rest for the long march to South Zagoria, many of the men’s motherland. “Tomorrow comrades, tomorrow we will be our test. Tomorrow we make the long march not only for our own liberation but for the future liberation of our children, and their children and so on. Comrades, I urge you to eat well this evening, rest early and be up by sunrise, understood?” A loud, proud “Da!” Was produced in unison.

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He’d grown up through the Soviet era and had seen first hand exactly what the new capitalist system had in store. His father, once an honourable soldier of his motherland now a disgraced oppressor of the Chernarussian people, occasionally beaten on the streets and eventually shot dead at an anti-nationalist protest. His mother was a hardworking factory worker building tools, guns and ammunition for the greater good of the motherland, now an unemployed stay at home mother who would eventually die at the hands of the nationalist government after the civil war. For Fedorov, there was no choice but to fight. Fedorov learnt the ins and outs of socialism through what his parents taught him as a child, from the communist manifesto to Ho Chi Minh. Some would say he was brainwashed others would say his parents were trying to preserve the proletariat victory so their child could go on and spread the ideals of the people, and ultimately Joseph ended up believing the later. By the time he graduated school he was already a keen debater, an avid protester and a believer of the ethnic Russian struggle in South Zagoria. Fedorov was now 18 and a member of the Chernarus left-wing party helping campaign against the oppression of ethnic Russians which coincidentally made him a target of hate, death threats and letter bombs. All of this on top of the socialist upbringing forced him further and further to the left. As he saw more murdered ethnic Russians, more burnt houses, and more pro-nationalist propaganda on state radio and television he’d had enough and decided to save what little money he made for a trip to China to learn from the previously oppressed Chinese people.

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China would be the place Fedorov would learn his most valuable lesson: there is no such thing as a peaceful revolution, and that the proletariat must strike first before there can be any kind of true change. This statement given to him by a veteran of the Long March is ultimately what pushed him to believe in armed rebellion for the greater good of the people. Though the life lesson he had just learnt was great he realised quite quickly he couldn’t afford to get home conventionally. So instead he decided he would travel from China to Vietnam where he would pick up odd jobs on farms or small stores in cities until he could afford the multiple flights home. As he travelled the Asian countryside he learnt more and more about their culture and their fight against oppression, and for freedom. Vietnam is where Fedorov managed to meet a veteran NFL general in the capital city Hanoi and after having a small discussion on what he’d learnt in China and his experiences in South Zagoria and their struggle, general Hoàng Minh Thảo offered to give him a form of guerrilla tactics training both in a command role and an infantry role. Joseph spent 3 months not only in vigorous training but also working in the Việt Quang garage to help save for his eventual trip home. After the training was complete Joseph Fedorov set a plan in motion in his own head that would free the people of Chernarus of all kinds of oppression. The day he arrived, by sheer luck, his plan had already happened by accident. With a civil war looking inevitable he got in touch with his political contacts and managed to get himself a place in a Chedaki militia for the freedom of his people and all those who support the proletariat dictatorship. Fedorov would end up fighting alongside notable figures like Alexander Petrov, Viktor Padella, and Olaf of the Red Wolves. 

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After losing the civil war in 2009, something that truly disappointed Fedorov, Olaf and Joseph made their desperate escape and remained in hiding near the Russian border until the outbreak tore the region apart, fearing their families might be in danger the men gathered their supplies and travelled south in a desperate attempt to find their families, though after reconnecting with old Chedaki contacts they learnt of the horrible truth that had happened to their comrades and their families. The government, NAPA, and COBRA hunted and executed Chedaki forces, and/or their families sometimes publicly. Joseph's mother was among those publicly executed for crimes against the state. She, according to some Chedaki sources had been said to have died shouting “Slava Chedaki!” Now without a family, Joseph decided to stay with the Chedaki contacts he had found, not only because he only had Olaf now, but because it was safer to stay in numbers now. Chedaki sources were full of rumours, white lies, and blatant lies, though something about a safe haven for communists and socialists alike in the mountains seemed pleasant and unbelievable. Almost like their own Mount Olympus, but as time went on and the rumours developed into stories, which turned into first-hand accounts and photographs. Joseph and Olaf became infatuated with the prospect of a socialist stronghold well within distance and before they knew it they had already planned a route and scavenged supplies. They climbed mountains and crossed vast forests before they even saw another sign of human life but eventually, they did. They stumbled upon a BPR patrol and were taken into custody to take precautions, and vigorously questioned about Russia until the two confessed to being Chedaki and had come looking for the “People’s Republic,” the safe haven of socialists and communists alike.

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After nearly one year of training, Joseph had shown the BPR how useful he could be with smaller groups leading successful raids and ambushes on nearby CDF encampments and strongholds. Joseph Fedorov was promoted to Commander of the ‘Red Guard’ for his 'in the moment' decision to take charge as the previous commander had fallen during battle leaving the militia in disarray. His leadership began to shine and his decision to retreat from the active firefight caused confusion in the enemy ranks as they began to engage one another. Joseph most now infiltrate South Zagoria and destabilise the fascists, and oppressors of the region with his 20 man militia if they survive the march through enemy territory.

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8th May 2017.
Two columns of men, unevenly spaced behind each other marched slowly through long grass as they bathe in the days first sunlight. The lines would occasionally halt and alter direction. 

As there footsteps beat across the hillside a distinct crack of a bullet could be heard to their right in the tree line at the edge of the field they marched across. One of the men thudded as he fell. Immediately they all halt and drop below the grass level. 

“We’ve been ambushed comrades, do not panic keep it together and only engage when you have a clear, certain shot.” Fedorov’s voice seemed almost too calm as if it wasn’t his first ambush. “Just stick to the man in front of you and crawl.” 

As the unknown enemy fired, the two lines diverged from one another one continued straight as the other turned towards the enemy. Suddenly a hail of machine gun fire comes from the other side of the field in the opposite tree line. The grass was being thrown everywhere and was eventually mixed with blood and body parts as they began to spray into the grass blindly. 

“Joseph, I think we lost you we’re nearly and the enemy position, we’re about to eng-“ the broadcast is interrupted by wild gunfire before cutting off. Now flanked on both sides the men had nowhere to go but forward, though they had no idea if that was also harbouring the enemy. 

“Fuck it! Comrades we either let the revolution die here today, or we get on our feet as fucking run for that woods. ON YOUR FEET COMRADES! UUUUUUURAH!”

“UUUUUURRRRAHH! UUUUUUUURRRAAAH!” It echoes as the entire militia get to there feet and run.
 

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Nearly a year later Fedorov managed to escape the infighting of the BPR and return to South Zagoria, though this time with little to no intel, knowing not whether his comrades were still alive and active, and knowing nothing about the geopolitics of the region. One thing was for certain though, the proletariate would be freed.

WIP


2 Comments


56 minutes ago, SheepyMcSheepface said:

Do not accept death until victory is with the people, tovarish. Good to see Fedorov is back 😉

When I die, another comrade will pick up my gun and continue fighting. Better red than dead.

 

lets do this tovarish.

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