Jump to content
Server time (UTC): 2019-12-10, 03:58 WE ARE RECRUITING
Sign in to follow this  
TryaxReck

Jonah Blank's Thought-Book

Recommended Posts

 

 

Journal Entry One:

Two and a half years. It’s been that long. I feel stuck in a past in which I should have died in, all those years ago. I still remember the fires, the gunshots. I remember running. I remember falling from the shot of a magnum. I remember her. It’s all gone now. The town we lived in. The houses are there, minus the one they burnt. The one they burnt. Why did… it happen? We just wanted to live, and they destroyed us. I don’t even remember why. They took it from us. They took it all. Now, Polat is gone, Rider is gone, and I remain. Still wearing the stark white of my people. I hate white.

Если вы можете прочитать это, сколько русских осталось? Мы снова получили этническую чистку?

A Cracked Can, A Cracked Man

Eleven at night, morning far.

Mourning of a past view.

A smudged mirror, old scars welting anew.

Bad trips, tricks, memoria bubbling.

Fizzing up.

Blowing up.

And the tears stop as the can stops leaking.

For a smear or stain on that mirror reminds a man, dying.

Of something he may never change.

Thus, why bother crying.

 Journal Entry Two

I made it to Berezino, And I found a good recipe for Uhka in some abandoned coastal house. I guess it makes sense, fisherman making fish soup. I think I will head to Severograd, and see if I can dig up my past some. I still barely remember it, but I do know one thing. The Kingdom of Severograd is where I should start to regain my memories. Maybe it’ll be where I end my journey too. I wonder if it would be that bad, in all honesty. Self preservation sucks.        

uhka.png.51112d56631436bdbb8604255ed5f626.png

Мысли о тюрьме:

Я едва помню свое время в тюрьме. Это изменило меня в лучшую сторону. Это, вероятно, сделало меня человеком, которым я являюсь сегодня. Благодаря этому я приобрел навыки, которые у меня есть сегодня. Довольно забавно, правда.

Journal Entry Three: 

Change of plans. It seems a group of bandits have taken over some sort of ship beached on the shore, the entire road and surrounding forest is dangerous. Had to turn back after they began opening fire on me. Not going to get past them, I'll have to go the long way. I’ve decided i’ll make my way down to Elektrozavodsk, then heading north past that old campsite, to Staroye. I’ll go pay my respects in Shakhovka again, then loop back to Severograd once more. 

The English Language:

What fuck. Who decided the letter A made so many sounds? This language makes no sense, I'm glad I learned it early as a child. I’d rather speak russian, but. I barely understand myself. At least I can write well in English. Foreigner in my own home.

Journal Entry Four:

Elektrovadosk. Finally. My feet are sore, and these secondhand boots are starting to really cramp up my legs. The city itself hasn’t changed from the first few months of the outbreak, though nature has definitely taken its toll on the outskirts, the scent of rotting wood and the sight of vines is enough to notify me of that. Gunshots rang out somewhere in the city, I think the port. Thank god I don’t need to go there. I’m writing this in that old church, on the hill, so I should be safe from anything or anyone in the city until I actually go inside. Which I will, I think I spotted something metallic and shiny in one of those military tents. Whatever it is, it’s mine now. Staroye, here I come. I also found this odd poster, hidden underneath an overturned church pew. “Hunger.” I guess everyone needs to eat, even those who aren’t really living anymore. 

hunger.png.81dbad95652f8fff1205b94e5cf953cb.png

Journal Entry Five

Lots of new things to talk about. I went to Shakhovka, made it past Staroye. Visited my wifes grave, still standing, barely. I need to build her a new cross… Once I made it into the city, another wave of memories flooded me. Hiding in tents, building watchtowers, an imposing fortress… And a pathway. A small church, on the outskirts of town. I wandered around for a few hours, and low and behold, I found it. This path, its familiar. Like i’ve walked it a thousand times before. So I went. The trail eventually led me to some small town, in which I took a main road to Novy and Stary Sobor. Both devoid of life. Kabanino, Vybor, I kept walking, until I stumbled across the town of Pustoshka.  A fortress in holy ground, Chernarussians, soldiers… Meat. So much. Meat. Flesh. Guts. Disgusting. 

After that traumatic flashback, I headed back to Vybor, making my way back home..? To Shakhovka. That’s when I met a man named Hector. He said he came from Maheeko. Somewhere in America, he said. Underneath United States. Anyways, he was a pleasant fellow, though we parted ways shortly after he found an assault rifle. Maybe he thought I would’ve stolen it? Well, either way he seemed to be quite friendly, I hope he doesn’t get his stuff taken away by bandits again. Apparently bandits use licenses to rob people of their goods. Interesting.

I found a camera, I think I'll start photographing some of my adventures. 

housing.jpg.5ad0065e0d6b72f25537e52900e3b3fc.jpg

Not bad for a first shot, shame the color got fucked up. Guess thats what I get for using a bad camera. There were a lot of infected in that shot.

Journal Entry Six:

Its been awhile since i’ve last opened up this journal. I ended up staying in Shakhovka, building the place up. In the last week and a half, we’ve built these walls high, and traffic has been trickling in more and more. We finally set up a checkpoint, though two of our best soldiers deserted, fuck them. Its working for now, but we are worryingly low on manpower. I don’t want to force people to fight, but I will conscript them if I must. We do, on the bright side, have a well equipped force. Plenty of new assault rifles, with a well maintained stock of SMGs and high powered rifles. We are looking up.

Journal Entry Seven:

I met a woman. Violet, or Laura, or Violent. She speaks in many different accents, many different names and personalities. She is something else, she makes me feel so different and alive. Like Cherii, those years ago. I don’t know what to do, think, or say, I feel so lost, yet found at same time. You know when, when you got sick and broke a bone and they gave morphine and you felt euphoric? Its that. I think. Bad example maybe. But, but. I know its true, she makes me feel so alive, so filled with vigor. A simple glance throws me into action, but I fear that she may not be who she said she is. First its America, now its the UK, what next? She is a mystery, maybe that’s the appeal. But its dangerous. I can’t prioritize a love life over Shakhovka, there are things bigger than myself, I am but a man who leads his people forward, inspiring hope in something new. But what do I have to hope in other than her? 

It goes to show that I write more about a woman than anything else. I haven’t felt this way about others before, unlike Randy I have met plenty of women in Chernarus, I doubt it’s just lust clouding my mind. I don’t know, she is something else. I know she isn’t telling me the truth about a lot, but what I can see is her personality and how she cares for people. Those traits of hers, those seem universal. She can hide her face, and her voice, but not her feelings. At least I know those are real. 

Untitled

The footprints lead screaming, scorching the asphalt, 

As I pound the floor, running to an angel of buckshot,

A savior amongst ghouls and goblins,

And when I feel it, when I see her,

When I feel the burning, the heat in my face.

But in a way, I want it, like, 

Thats been missing from my day,

Love in itself is an ill guided blade,

Missing it's mark, hitting my veins, 

And pouring my soul out onto the asphalt

Where she watches, and judges my soul.

CODEBREAKER???

IG WO MH BG EP BG IZ IO IT WE US WS IY GR RY WF HI US WS BT BW BW BW DY KB WB SL SM TB WF WB BY WV ME LU FO ZS SY YY PB RK WB YD YZ IY MK VT RD OD OS TB CW XP HM WB YY ZY VY WY XY TM IW FI VZ DT HZ BK LP KE BT IB ZE KE ZM ZE KE LF OX PO TR KH AB KB PV EO AK PZ BF JY NK VH VB LE ZE BI AL JK VP FJ TP EL KC TI SA NJ BS BT LE KJ KE OH OX PO TR CL ZH VH VB LE GK FW NT KE OO XO CO KO FO

I need a keyword to decipher whatever this says. She said something about how they use numbers, and have russian accents. Maybe I can send a detachment to get one for us. Why am I doing this, even.. Well. I know why, but I still have to feign I don’t know. 

Thoughts on Smoking: 

I smoke because it makes me look cool, really, and relieves a bit of stress. There has to be a better way to deal with stress rather than simply reverting to vice, I don’t like smoking, but it gives me that relief not much else gives. I need a better outlet. Maybe more poetry? That could work. It gives me something… to focus on. Something to put my feelings into.

friends.jpg.0cafe46fe9a4c6787ad0be3810e64750.jpgdrunkfriends.jpg.5f63a4d10b30188a07deb1fa8a0dd644.jpg

Found these while searching my old home. Rest in peace, Lev. May you watch over me. Man were we good looking kids. I look like I barely aged since then.. Guess that’s good, but it feels like yesterday when we were lounging about, nothing to do and nothing good in mind. Wonder where your girlfriend, Natlya is. Wonder if she thinks about you like I do. Brothers by bleeding, not by blood. Why’d you have to pull the trigger? We could’ve survived this together.

Journal Entry Seven:

Today was…. I don’t even know. I feel like the world collapsed upon me, and the stresses were all there. But she was. Violent was there for me. I opened up. I talked about my feelings, ones I haven’t spoken to anyone, until her. And she deals in fucking secrets. But… she opened up too, surprisingly. She talked about a child, her child. And instantly, I knew she knew the pain. What it felt to have something so precious, so caring and wonderful ripped from your hands for no reason other than fate demanded it. She’s amazing. She saved me, twice. A guardian angel, bearing down with the barrel of a shotgun, yanking me out of a horde of infected. Sure, she may have attracted the horde, but I will leave that part out of the story when I tell everybody about it. She called me dapper. I don’t even know what that means and I beam with pride! You know how crazy that sounds? How stupid it is? Well, I guess im talking to myself right now- but still. She’s beautiful. And dangerous. And intoxicating, like a fine wine, I get drunk over her. Bah. I need to stop writing half poems in these entries. Someone is gonna see this and think im some pushover lovebird..

 

 

 

 

Share this post


Link to post

Journal Entry Eight

This has gotten out of hand, I think i’m losing myself over this girl. My drug is attention, and she’s my dealer. This is going to be the death of me, I need to lead. I need my people, like they need me. I spent my days today working the fields with farmers, hauling logs with the loggers, and speaking with the people about how they think things are going. The loggers need new axes, so I sent off some men on a scavenging run. It feels good, being back in the reins. They came back with another bottle of vodka, I may have acquisitioned it for her. I did good today, I think this works as my own reward. She likes vodka, talked about adding peaches to it for some reason. I never saw that be a thing, fruit in vodka?! but whatever. Culture is different, different places.

The walls looking up. Things are looking up. It seems those federationalists and anarchists are continuing their war, which is great for us. Weakens both of them, fantastic. But I worry about the power vacuum by those powers may lead to new groups to fill the void. Here’s hoping they are all friendly, or at least negotiable. Glory to Shakhovka.

 

Edited by TryaxReck

Share this post


Link to post

Journal Entry Nine

Its gone. Its all gone, just like three years ago. I feel so, defeated. So empty. You tell someone you love them, only to realize the flirting, the knowing gazes, they were all a game at your expense. I feel so betrayed, humiliated. Like as if I was stripped naked and thrown in the dirt, that tightening of the chest you feel. And the base... the fortress. They just tore through it like tissue paper. Both the warehouse and the base itself were broken into, everything gone. Twenty or so rifles, 600 nails, and our code locks, all destroyed or stolen. And those people, who swore to defend Shakhovka with their life? Where are they now? Where are they now. Gone. Away, fucking about in the forest with their radios turned off, where they can't be bothered to help defend a place they oh-so enjoyed to take showers and stay safe in. Useless fuckers. And that man.... That man who spilt our name to everyone, that man who told everyone where we were. "Come to Shakhovka, the people need help there." YOU BITCH. YOU FUCKER. YOU BROKE THE ONE RULE WE ASKED, THE ONE RULE! AND WE ARE NOTHING BECAUSE OF YOUR CARELESSNESS.

ITS YOUR FAULT. ALL OF IT. 

I HATE YOU.

I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU  I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU.

I HATE YOU.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I love you still, so badly. But it hurt. It hurt so badly. I am so sorry for saying those things. I know you care, my love. I know you care. I feel so ugly, so rotten inside. Maybe you were right in not loving me back.

Share this post


Link to post

Journal Entry Ten

The weekend surprisingly gave me some repreive. We had a party, despite the shoddy state of our camp, drinking and smoking and tossing hatchets and whatnot. It was fun! We found 2, count them, TWO! Trucks. One got stolen, of course, other is missing a wheel. Ah well. Still a car. Apparently the black forest, the forest close to us, is home to many occult and bandit groups, we ended up clearing the entire forest, found only a few tents and stashes here and there. Still, hopefully that will route whoever initially attacked our home. Plumbing system is getting an upgrade as well, we are laying new pipe to reach the yellow house, with the metal sheet roof. Soon, everything within our walls will be powered by electricity and will have clean drinking water. Thank god for that well, that resivoir lasts forever, i'd say. Must be a great lake down there. Heh. 

Sunday was slower than saturday. We mostly kept to building up our defences again, finished compartmentalizing the enterance, added a few new locked gates to deny entry to any other potential attackers. We even got a fair few more nails, so we are gonna start reinforcing the walls by adding an extra layer of wood around them. Things are back on track. We also found WHO exactly robbed us, Odezva and The Commission. The Commission offered tribute, the Odezva, well. We already know what they will offer. Lead. We need to locate their location so we can strike at them, destroying their power-base and cementing Shakhovkan rule. For now, though. We wait, we build, and we survive. More people walk through our gates, more people join our army. Shakhovka will not fall. Shakhovka will not fall.

Blood Types:

I just figured out how to read bloodtypes. Well, not really, but I found this scuffed up thing.. Better than nothing. think its safe to assume whatever was torn out would've been having a red X on it, so still useable. Sheesh.

968358379_Untitleddesign(4).png.f52ebb3b1047823abfcba7722c632445.png

Edited by TryaxReck

Share this post


Link to post

Journal Entry 11

2 weeks since i've opened this thing, too much to do, too much to say. The Jackals carved my son, my friends, me. Of course it was I whom had an S indented into my skin. I added 2 more of them. SSS. No matter what they do, what they say. Their little S has been multiplied. What once was meant to be strong was changed by me. It stands for my country now. It stands for me, and those who've been labelled with the W. I share my S, to those with the W, turning them into me by exposure. 

The walls have been heavily damaged, torn down by the Jackals and the elements. Entire sections of wall have been just... removed. Gone. I have no clue how, but its glaring as a security issue. Completely open, we've had to had guards all over just to maintain some inkling of security for what remains of our people. How many more must spill blood in order for us to have a home. How many more of us must have their bones broken to defend ourselves. When the world around us wants war, we are peace. A bastion of safety no longer. And the Wolfpack and Nox.... I will have to go out and send an envoy, to both of them, to hopefully negotiate some sort of peace, some sort of truce so the south becomes that itty bitty much safer. And with the Wolfpack subdued, the Custodians will soon follow, forming a political bloc which will further safeguard our nation. Border disputes, trade agreements, no sense of diplomacy.... great. I will have to moderate children squabbling over past wrongdoings not realizing the true evil lies not in the man or woman they will scream at.

God save us all. 

I miss you Cherii. You would know what to do, you were always so, so smart.

 

Share this post


Link to post

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Restore formatting

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

Sign in to follow this  

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.

×
×
  • Create New...