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Discarded bodies - The tales of Artur Melor

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"Shitty harvest this year...better start going inland"

The thick accented man looked over his harvest, the supply chain has been pretty hard to come by and livestock was skimming down by the month. So it was only time when the ground would be well too worn for good measure to allow anything to grow any more, weeds aside. With the confirmation that he had to move on, the slightly aged man, a few years marked by lines on his face signalling a couple of years past his prime of youth had slipped him by. A thick, albeit cheap cigar was left down an inch to the end before it was dropped to the ground and left to smoulder away, looking at it for a moment, the near-poetic though slipped into his mind

'Probably by the time that goes out, few hundred lives would too.'

Though such thoughts were not ones for a mind like his, thus spitting off to the side getting rid of some saliva that had the taste of the cigar fermenting and lingering, he would make his way off. Few supplies, primarily food, water and the family Winchester with a couple of slugs, enjoying the grandeur effect they tended to have on another's skull rather than riddling people with tiny holes, he liked one bigger one. The farm was now alone, as like many other places. Also, as many others, he's become a scavenger. A vulture, crow, raven. Either or are applicable, with some water, food and a gun, he had the primary items covered.

The early morning sunrise was within the company of the evening's chill. The man's breath could be seen leaving a trail behind him, the chill being kept at bay with the thick layered clothing and his own resilience through the years spent waking up at such times and going out to the field. The woods were known to be a death trap for those unaware of their surroundings or thinking that they are 'safe'. Such a word is unknown to him, not any more at least. Being a farmer did lead to him also having some hunting skills, nothing like a true professional but it lead him to being able to know how to gut an animal, how to track them and basic survival, who knew it would come in handy to this extreme? Leaving the outskirts of Nadezhdio, he made his way down south. After all, if one's going to start looking for supplies, why not check out to see the big cities? Enough people probably died there to have a few valuable things still laying about, no?

'Now that I think about it, I'm pretty damn happy I didn't take up being a real estate agent.'

It's funny what can cross one's mind from time to time.

Author's note:

This is my first DayZRP related story, I'm not sure if I should keep on adding new chapters in different posts or expanding this current one. I love to write but haven't done so in this manner for a little bit so things may be a bit slow to start but you'll see me getting better eventually (I hope!) Open to constructive advise and if it gets popular, may even make a poll to a 'what happens next?' thing too :3

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