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They Wanted This [Journal]


Rover

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  • Game Master

The top of the page is dated for 03/29/2021

 

I am M rk Lit le.

I a   ark  ittl .

  am M rk Little.

I  m Mark L ttle.

I am Mark Little.

These pens are pieces of shit. But this one will do well enough.

Its been three months since I found a journal that wasn't already scribbled in. Three months since I could empty my thoughts onto something I could call mine.

...

...

...

Fuck Chernarus. This place sucks. It hasn't stopped raining in three days. This week I've seen 116 victims of the FF. I've seen one car, driven by a man that ignored my efforts to flag him down when I was freezing my balls off in the rain. He was probably American.

Fuck Chernarus. I've seen more wolves then people, and I don't know if that is a bad thing or not. A wolf is honest. It wants to eat you. It tells you as much. Simple, understandable, logical. People? Not so much. Who the fuck installs a kiddy pool in the middle of a former military installation? 

Fuck Chernarus. Fuck Chernarus. Fuck Chernarus. 

Its been three months since my last dose. This is when they said the tolerance change would be noticeable. I would say they are correct. The visions are back.

They wanted me to start writing my thoughts down. So here we are. Fuck Chernarus.

I want to go home.

 

Mark out.

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  • Game Master

The top of the page is dated for 03/30/2021

Sparrows. Chronicles of Narnia. Tinnitus. 

Well at least I found people.

I'm pretty sure that American fuck with the car from yesterday was actually a somewhat nice Irish fuck instead. Or at least he offered me a drive, and gave me some directions. If his car wasn't on fire, I'd have taken the offer.

Wolves again. I can't walk anywhere without wolves. Thumper went thump, wolves went dead, I walk over a hill, and all over again. But this time, no bodies? Did I shoot them and scare them off, or were they even there? Doesn't matter. I've got the ammo for figments. 

A deaf lady named Alyse, and a companion with no time for names.

Sparrows. Spare-o's? They aren't saying Sparrow, but I don't know what the word is. A giant radio tower, firing green light pulses into the sky. Alexei, Wynne, and the Chronicle of Narnia Lion Aslan himself. Pretty sure Wynne gave me tinnitus in her excitement to show off her rifle. 

A nice Evin gave me a grenade.

Do not forget Nate.

Dan-eel is a helicopter pilot and a man of some degree of fame.

Whatever Namalsk is sucks.

Chernarussian Plumbers are ingenious and install sinks backwards outside buildings.

People are loud, noisy, disorganized, and like to punch each other in the face.

Beats wolves.

Fuck Chernarus.

 

Mark out.

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  • Game Master

The top of the page is dated for 03/31/2021

 

The Sparrows are gone. Flown the nest. The great tower lies dormant and dull, the doors cracked and opened, the walls broken and in disarray.

I thought then I'd found Deliverance. I expected banjos. I got Bubba and Meryl Bridgewater. I wonder if they scared off the Sparrows. I wonder if Bubba was an act. I wonder how long he'll make it.

Then, the staple of Chernarus. The salty sort  of local that calls anyone trying to make a life for themselves an imperialist. We picked over the remains. Still, maybe the Sparrows are deserving of the title. Maybe that is why the nest got broken. 

I travelled north. Through rivers, over mountains, to a castle. Is this place even real? I felt the cobbles, I climbed the stairs. It must be real. To the east, an airfield. A trio of belching red dragons, racing around the runways in circles. Doing donuts and leaving trails of smoke and soot in their wake. I watched them cavort and capriciously roar until they spilled forth their mortal pilots and the engines still.

Cars. Why do cars always seem so malicious to me? 

By the time I roused myself enough to come and greet them, they had climbed back into their iron dragons and raced off. Perhaps for the better. People are rarely companionable around the military places. Lots of touchy nerves and grabby hands.

I've heard of news to the north. The Transporters. Perhaps I'll get to meet Jason Statham himself.

 

Mark out.

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