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Jm Von Cat

Journal of Lt Alexander Bardov (New Section)

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Jm Von Cat    154

*The journal is a faded Dark green, any words that were once on the front cover are now illegible, each page is a dirtied yellow brown and pencil smudges mark the pages*

Well, I don't really know where to start… I could go from when the infection started but I suppose if you are reading this you already know about that.

So I'll start from the very beginning… Well I was born and Raised in Dubrovka, my family was not particularly wealthy but we never went hungry. I was the Eldest child within the Family and had three siblings, little Clarice, Mikoli and Sven… Throughout my schooling years I was quiet with only a small group of friends, didn’t have a girlfriend either... but I did rather like this one girl…

At the age Seventeen I decided to go into the armed forces of my country the CDF. Posted to Utes for training and then later selected for Officers training, I could hardly believe my luck at the time, me a poor farmhand being an officer!? After training I was stationed to Balota Airfield with the rank of First Lieutenant and in command of my own Platoon with attached assets such as mortars and a small armored contingent.

At this early stage everything was fine, I had a small house in Balota and was visited regularly by my family Sven even mentioned that he was thinking of enlisting and following my footsteps…

That was all before 2009, the Red star movement or Chedaki had declared an independent south Zagoria with them as the political head, well I’m sure you all know the story of the civil war by now… In short we were getting the shit kicked out of us all over south Zagoria, with the Chedaki managing to take control over most of the province.

I lost contact with my family during the fighting, Dubrovka was behind Chedaki lines, and countless hours were spent worrying, at one stage I even requested, then begged the regional command to let me try to contact my family… I was denied permission and so I stayed, training my men and the few other badly mauled CDF elements that had been pulled from the front lines.

While the rest of the country burned in the flames of civil war, Balota was relatively untouched suffering from only small incidents with Chedaki Snipers or scouts. Americans used the air station for their helicopters and as a small operating base, they mainly kept to their part of the base, one day they just up and went, apparently they were being replaced by the Russians after some kind of bombing in Moscow.

Shortly after the Americans withdrew, a large Chedaki force attempted to storm the Air station, they only had light armour thank god and we were able to repel them… the village itself was occupied by Chedaki forces, I led a counterattack to retake the Village it was surprisingly successful. I later found out that the majority of Chedaki forces withdrew shortly before the counter attack for Unknown Reasons.

At the conclusion of the “Battle of Balota” as my men called it, we scoured the Village, looking for any remaining Chedaki who may be holed up in a cellar or attic. While we did not find any combat ready Chedaki (Only a couple of badly injured men in a cellar, who were abandoned by their comrades). I did however find my good friend’s dog, Panzer, whom had been killed during the fighting. I buried the dog under a small oak, damn dog loved that tree…

Shortly after this the American task force re-deployed, it looked like we were gaining the upper hand again… soon this bloody civil war would be over, at the time we celebrated, we had survived a war, we had won a war! As the fighting died down I once again attempted to contact my Family, I was met with limited success when I found out that Sven had joined the CDF shortly before the Chedaki reached Dubrovka, I attempted to get him transferred to my unit but he was currently deployed in the front line units, where they still had a manpower shortage.

My good friend Major “Doc” Garrison returned to him home in Balota shortly after the conflicts end, it saddened me to inform him of his beloved dog’s death. Garrison had lost his Family, this gave us some common ground… Garrison became like a Brother to me, and after he shot a man attempting to break into my home while I was on duty (the men sure did laugh about that) I trusted him with my life.

At this time I still had not received any news about my other Siblings or my parents, I hoped for the best but feared for the worst, like any other person would I assume… at this stage I still had plenty of hope, after all hundreds of Civilians had moved away from the front lines, rumour had it that the Russians had even “evacuated” some civilians for their own protection, others made It to central Chernarus.

Several years past, still no news from my family, and Sven was still deployed elsewhere, from what I had heard he was a good soldier, never let the man beside him down. A mass grave was discovered just southwest of Dubrovka… many of my old friends were in it, along with many other villagers, for the Chedaki to do this to their own people… man’s inhumanity to man…

Things were running normal, well normal in the sense that the nation was recovering.

On July 25th 2012 the world turned upside down… again, we got reports of people attacking each other, but that was about the total extent of our knowledge. A day after the initial “outbreaks” on Green Mountain I was ordered to send the armoured detachment up north with a small medical team, of which Garrison was a part of. Only two days later the convoy returned, the medical team had been dropped off in Chernogorsk to set up some kind of aid station, Garrison managed to get back to Balota and set up another aid station. I helped as best I could, but that mainly consisted of putting down those patients who turned, at first it deeply affected me, but after a while… it became almost normal…

Further to the North, the situation was apparently degrading, but high command was unwilling to share any real details, the news I received was mainly from refugees or other CDF units being pulled back to regroup, or merge with other units. They all used the Air Station as a base of operations, fresh CDF troops from central Chernarus, however the majority of them headed towards Chernogorsk.

It was only a matter of time now I think about it… the day before the Horde descended on Balota, we could see smoke on the horizon to the North, men and materials constantly retreated passed us, talking about the so called “Zombies” and their endless numbers. I remember one poor soldier Pearce I think his name was, he had to shoot his mother when she turned, he later committed suicide by combat… Running at a group of those creatures armed with only a Bayonet.

The horde eventually descended upon us from the north, Kozlovka possibly… this was on the sixth day.. a small French helicopter landed and a small French team disembarked… that was the last bit of help we were to get.. the gates of hell opened shortly after

The attack itself, when it came… it was seemingly endless… a tidal wave of death, of the dead… the perimeter shrunk quickly, the Aid station being one of the first places over run… Officers were forced to put down their own men who had been bitten, after one French officer had done this, he turned his gun on himself, uttering a cry of mes enfants (I have translated this to mean “My children”)… chaos was endemic, we began to withdraw… if you could call it withdrawal, men broke ranks and ran… everywhere I looked was death, defeat. Amidst the chaos I tried to find my friend, but to no avail… my men, well the few who were remaining dragged me back to one of the last trucks… there was not enough room for all of them… I will never forget them, they stayed behind to give us a chance, the last I saw of them was Schvell, swinging his empty rifle…

The small convoy of vehicles that managed to escape stopped about five kilometres from Ballota… so few of us survived, only seven of my men remained, most of the other units were in the same state… Most of the Foreign units wanted to go home, the local units, mine included wanted to go back to their homes, try to find loved ones… I divided up the ammunition between them, and wished them luck. Feodor… Gramisk… Pavlov… Kestner… Mikael… Harin… Yuri… I hope they made it…

I myself made up my mind to head into Central Chernarus, try and find any CDF forces still remaining, to make it short, I failed… the zombies over ran the rest of the country, possibly even more than that from what I have heard since…

*Alexander mumbles a quiet prayer as he closes the journal, after a brief search he finds a unused pocket and slips the journal within*

This is the new revised version of Alexanders journal, it has been slightly changed to better align with the official lore. Feedback is apreciated


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Mental    0

After reading about a third (ill finish it another time, gtg soon) I have to say I like it :) very personal and descriptive. One thing I would say though (not very important) maybe use a different font like I do for mine and like Amir did for his. You know, have a personal appearance to it instead of just plain white, default text.

Other than that, it's really good :) looking forward to more.

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Jm Von Cat    154

After reading about a third (ill finish it another time, gtg soon) I have to say I like it :) very personal and descriptive. One thing I would say though (not very important) maybe use a different font like I do for mine and like Amir did for his. You know, have a personal appearance to it instead of just plain white, default text.

Other than that, it's really good :) looking forward to more.

Thanks for the feedback mate, i do appreciate it and will take it onboard.

I have edited to colour, and will look more into fronts and such a little later.

Let me know when you read the whole thing!

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Jm Von Cat    154

*Alexander wearily opens the small journal, he looks at the inside cover again, runs a finger slowly over the faint wording "Sergeant Remiens, Johan"*

Why you... you never hurt anyone...

*Turns the pages just passed his first entry, pushing a small, worn pencil out of the Journals spine*

This is my second entry, I suppose I will fill in little bits here and there… not like anyone cares...

Anyway, only a short time ago, about two, three months maybe I returned to South Zagoria, I was fortunate and one of the first people I met in the Province was my dear friend Major Garrison. I ran into him near Pobeda Dam, at first we did not recognize each other, we were both wearing gas masks… but we did recognized the uniforms we wore, it may sound foolish now but because he was in that uniform I trusted him, and had great joy when I discovered that it was Garrison.

Garrison led me down to the Free medic encampment near the dam, it was unoccupied at this time and we simply sat by the fire and caught up a bit, discussing what had happened since we were separated at Ballota over two years ago.. We had a lot to talk about but I will not put that to paper.

Eventually we set out from Pobeda, heading towards Stary Sobor, Garrison was adamant that I should see what has happened since Ballota and that I was to acquire some proper equipment (all I had was a Makarov, my rifle long since lost) apparently some of our comrades had been stationed in Stary Sobor during the darkest days as I have dubbed them.

The walk down to Stary Sobor, although long was relatively uneventful, we avoided roads and towns, only once seeing other survivors from which we kept well hidden. Upon reaching the town we sheltered in a rusted red garage of some sort that was right beside the military complex, we made a brief plan, go in silent, search the area and get back to the garage.

Well, everything started of just fine, we managed to scrounge some medical supplies and I found a AK47, with GP25 and flashlight attachments, I was relatively happy with this find and we even managed to scrap together a couple of magazines. Things went wrong very fast, I’m not sure exactly how it happened but Garrisons Rifle went off, and all of those creatures… well they flocked to the sound, we did have a contingency plan and we stuck to it, get to the garage, wait for five minutes at maximum and if the other has not turned up, leave…

I made it to the garage first and took cover behind a wrecked Ural my new Rifle aimed at the door, I could hear the creatures outside, moaning, running.. Then a different noise, panting, heavier foot falls, Garrison came through the door I was looking at and so did about ten of those creatures. I yelled out to Garrison, when he did not reply I turned, he was taking up position near the other door where yet more of these creatures were approaching.

We had no choice, the only way we could possibly get out was to shoot our way out… we opened fire, single shots aim high, but for every one we dropped it seemed there were two more behind, they were slowly gaining ground and we were running out of ammunition. I know I was on my last magazine, I’m not sure how Garrison was of for ammunition but knew he must be as low as I was.

It was about then that we were saved, the first thing we knew about it was that creatures from the back of the horde were falling, then we saw who was saving our lives. Men in worn desert fatigues, a member of the UN and a man in Forest camouflage and a balaclava. They had silent weapons out, side arms mostly and they knew how to use them, within moments they had cleared the garage. With the creatures now dealt with, they turned to us, by now we had lowered our weapons.

We got talking, sitting around a tire fire, we found out that for the most part these men were Australians the second Commando Regiment, the others were survivors whom they had picked up along the way.

While Garrison talked with the commander of this group, a Lieutenant Grivetti, I started talking to a young UN sergeant whom was with the Commandos as a Survivor his name was Johan ‘Jmrem’ Remiens, he told me about his home, a place called Auckland in New Zealand.

I was quite interested in how he had gotten to Chernarus and I was quite surprised when I found out, it turns out that he was deployed by himself to Utes, to help train new members of the CDF and was later deployed to the air station in the north east of the Province with the squad he was training.

Me and Johan hit it of near immediately, we became close friends over the next few weeks and I tried my best to get along with his friend Artyom ‘Art’ Belinsky. Art was a local Chernarussian but he did not speak much so I knew little about him.

I will end this entry here, it’s starting to get dark.

*He closes the book slowly, pushing the pencil back into place. He glances around slowly before returning the book to his personal kit*

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Von_Fitz    0

A good read, I particularly like the little link between the name on the inside cover and a character you introduce later in the entry.

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Paderson    0

It's a good read, not too long or too short, very descriptive as well, hope to see more entries as you go along.

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Jm Von Cat    154

Thanks mate, any feedback is apreciated.

More should be coming soon, and i will eventualy write about our adventures together.

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Jm Von Cat    154

*Alexander is laying down in his tent, the small base he and his comrades have set up is relatively small and at present silent as the grave, a radio lies next to him, the Journal open in front of him*

I will be heading into Russian territory soon, I'm just waiting on a radio signal from Garrison.. Figured I might as well put a third entry to paper, just to pass the time.

Ever since the second Commandoes had saved our lives in Stary Sobor we had been helping them with little things, providing supplies and information as well as aiding them in limited combat actions. Throughout this time I would often strike out with Johan and his friend ‘Art', going on recon patrols and scavenging for supplies.

Shortly after the Commandoes were betrayed by one of the Survivors within their ranks I left South Zagoria for central chernarus, word had reached me via radio that two youngish people going under the name Bardov and fitting the Descriptions of my sister Clarice and brother Mikoli. Like any other person in my place would have done, I set out to find my siblings, hopefully bring them back to South Zagoria where I could protect them, I left with hasty goodbyes to the Commandos and to Garrison… If I had known what was to happen while I was gone… I would not have gone, or at least begged that the Commandoes accompany me...

My journey to Central Chernarus was a failure, I was unable to locate my siblings… from all accounts they were hiding out in one of the many vast woods in the area, it could take weeks of searching and I would still not find them… dispirited I left messages, hastily scrawled notes at forest edges, settlements, anywhere that they stood a chance to see it… and I started the trek back into South Zagoria.

One of the first places I visited upon my return was the second Commandoes camp… it was a wasteland, tents lay shredded and stained with dried blood, bodies were strewn across the ground… with a growing sense of despair I searched for Johan… the only remains I was able to find was his Blue UN helmet, singed and smeared with blood, just inside his helmet I found papers, letters he had never posted, a small journal of sorts and a picture of a young girl… all wrapped with his dog tags.

*Alexander glances back in his tent, eyes resting sadly upon the helmet, shakes his head slowly and turns back to the pages*

The name on the back of the small image was Dora Attwood, He had spoken to me rather fondly of this young girl, telling me that her innocence preserved his sanity… I did not believe him, but having recently meeting Dora at the Trade post, and telling her the.. bad news of our common friend, I can see what he meant… she has his Dog tags now and the papers that regarded her… its strange… but looking at Dora I can see my little Sister Clarice.

I scavenged around the Commandoes camp, hoping, praying that I would find Survivors.. or some hint as to where they had got to. The only thing I was able to find was this small Journal, it seems this is the book he wrote his letters in.. it feels only fitting that I remember him in this way.

*The radio sputters to life, a voice can be clearly heard on the other side*

“Alexander, move towards the border now and set up over watch in the pre-arranged position… with luck we should all be back in Chernarus in three days”

*The radio falls silent, not waiting for a reply*

I have to end this entry here, just received my signal

*Alexander closes the Journal slowly and places the journal in his arm pocket*

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MadeInsane    11

Very interesting, I remember being at TP when you handed Dora those dog-tags, I had never really made contact with Dora but I knew that she wasn't a soldier of any kind so it was strange but I didn't think to much of it at the time. Nice to know why that happened.

I await the next chapter in your story :D

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Major    645

Excellent Johan. I am going to start writing aswell.

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Jm Von Cat    154

Excellent Johan. I am going to start writing aswell.

I do encourage you to, it is actually rather fun!

(any of you who don't know, this guy is Garrison)

In other news, i will have another section or two up soon and i still encourage and would much appreciate some feedback, criticisms or what have you.

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Jm Von Cat    154

*Alexander is once again in his tent, but this time the small camp is more active as the occupants have returned from a recent venture across the Russian border, this is one of the rare occasions he is without his gas mask, for there is no need for it in the company of friends*

Johan taught me many things… all life is valuable he would say, no matter whom they were before, we are all the same now just given a chance to re-define ourselves… I never fully understood half the things he said but they always had a way of giving me hope..

All of us are back from Russia now, we have done what we set out to do and are now prepared, we hope…

Prepared for the council that is… from what I have heard, and the stories from my own companions here in this camp… Gas, poisonous, I won't go into details, just that if your exposed and die… your lucky, the consequences of this gas can be catastrophic.. I'll stop writing about it now… to stop my mind drifting.

A more recent venture of mine, with a few people whom I am proud to call friend, a David Murs of the Free Medic Defense Force (FMDS) and a Staff Sergeant Pyle of the USMC, I owe these men my life, though they probably won't admit it… it all started off in the trade post, but I don't remember exactly how… either way, the three of us set off towards Kabinino, en route to the nearby airfield.. the start of what was very nearly the last thing we ever did…

We had forgotten how cold the nights could get, we were almost to Kabinino, cold and wet thanks to a surprise shower, I swear, the only thing we were talking about on our trip up was reaching a barn and lighting a fire… well we eventually did reach Kabinino, and to our surprise we could see flares glowing, smoldering I suppose, around the barns, a loan man with a silence rifle that I could not make out from a distance was creeping around, looking for supply’s I supposed.

David posed to us the option of going over to talk to him, after all it is part of his code to help those in need, I myself do try to help other survivors as much as I can.. but it’s never enough… the three of us spread out and moved forward, faster than we perhaps should have, but we wanted the meeting to happen fast so we could head indoors and light a fire, we were all freezing and I was worried about us catching some kind of disease, as it turned out… I was justified in that concern.

The man we approached bumped into Pyle in the dark, he seemed jumpy, even tried to raise his weapon until Pyle let out a hushed whisper of “were friendly, don't shoot”, not exactly to assuring, but the man complied, I broke in with a request that we all hurry inside to which both men readily agreed. We soon had a small fire going, enough to dry us out a little and keep us warm, the man introduced himself as Holden, I'm pretty sure it was Holden at least, we got talking, the four of us, Holden threw in his lot with us I guess he figured there was safety in numbers..

What I feared soon came true, Pyle started coughing, not the kind of tickled through cough, but real gut wrenching things, David was next, and a short time after I to was sick, Holden seemed unaffected indeed I guessed he had not been out nearly as long as we had nor had he been to the same areas where we might have been exposed to something, a contagion or the like, I’m no doctor so I do not really know. What I do know is it hurt, I was feeling weaker with every passing minute and we had no way to try and treat our ailments, we had limited medical supplies that we doled out, but they seemed to have little effect.

David suggested that we try to find some Anti Biotic, apparently some kind of wonder drug for sicknesses and as far as I was concerned worth a shot. The best place we could think of to find some supplies quickly was the nearby airfield, we figured that the military may have left supplies that had not yet been scavenged… we set out, making good time, there was a slight rise, overlooking the runway from the north west, we took cover there and gave the place a quick once over before deeming it “unoccupied by the living”.

*A ragged cheer goes up from the camp, Garrison must have produced one of his liberated bottles of wine, much to the delight of the men, Alexander is called for, a celebration is about to begin. Alexander smiles to himself as he scrawls a last few lines*

Celebrations for our return are beginning, and I fear my comrades will not let me write in peace, perhaps it is a good time to unwind…

*Alexander closes the Journal slowly, folding a page so as to keep tabs on where he is up to and slips the journal into his sleeve pocket once more*

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Major    645

NO!! SCOTCH WHISKEY LADDIE!!!! NOT FUCKING CHARDONNAY!!!!

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Jm Von Cat    154

One of the best and worst events to happen to us.

My god it was, and that is not even the full account, i'm brewing up the second half of the story right now, should have it up tomorrow

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Jm Von Cat    154

*Alexander winces as he pulls his journal out of his sleeve pocket slowly, his left arm bloodied and the cloth slightly torn a rough tourniquet just below his shoulder rests upon his USP, his gasmask is smeared with blood, a lens cracked and the filter badly dented. Alexander leans, propped up against a tree, in the distance barely visible his vehicle burns, ammo cooking off periodically. Alexander drops the Journal onto his lap, slowly opening it to the afore folded page, pushing out the pencil from the spine and putting It to paper*

This may well be my last entry, I am bleeding out… Pyle is unconscious at present, I have done what I can with my one good arm… I only hope we are found be one of our friends before those creatures… or the people who ran us off the road..

*blood smears the page, dirty little splotches, the handwriting is jagged, pained almost*

I am in a bad shape, Pyle may be in a worse one, we were ambushed, unknown people, unknown numbers, thank whomever was watching over us that they were bad shots… for the most part at least, I was hit in the left arm, just above my elbow and through my left side.. no idea how badly, I have managed to stop the bleeding.. but the pain, it is, unbearable… Pyle has passed out.. he was hit in the back and legs, that was before we crashed, I'm surprised we made it this far away..

This situation is worse than at lopatino.. at least we knew help was coming then… and we had an uninjured comrade to protect us… how we came to be in such a state well, that I have already put to paper… but why not finish the story..

*briefly looks back a couple of pages to his last entry, confirming where he left off, staining that page with a print of his thumb*

So, while the airfield was… “Unoccupied by the living” those creatures sure had a presence, but it was risk versus reward, and we figured that the possible rewards far outweighed the risks… we figured wrong…

At first we moved down to a helicopter, a crashed MI8 that had been fortified with sandbags, here we lit a small fire and talked tactics, how would we clear this place, any strategies or patterns, we decided to target a small cluster of building of towards the west, scavenge what we could quietly, if the shit hit the fan, belt it towards the fire station.

Things actually went well, we found various supplies, ammunition mainly but no antibiotic, which we were desperately needing, our coughing was getting worse, and had made a few of these creatures aware of our presence, we were thankfully able to dispatch those few and moved of east, towards the control tower and fire station, again we found supplies, but not the desperately needed drug.

We were losing hope of finding the antibiotic, we had scavenged up and down the air strip, moving quietly, wraith like, it was almost scary how we would just emerge from the shadows with blood.. slime, on our weapon of choice, perhaps even a hand, or foot poking out of the shadows behind them, leaving open to the imagination what had clearly happened.

Holden mentioned a rumor, of an abandoned military base to the north west of the airfield, where he hoped there would be some medical stashed of the required medications, what did we have to lose? We had not found what we needed on the airstrip… as it turned out the rumor was false.. we had moved further away from any chance of us going by foot to find the antibiotic ourselves, David stated that he could possibly organize for his superiors in the Free Medic Defense Squad to meet us at a pick up point…

At that stage I was near to passing out from fatigue, I think David and Pyle were to, somehow Holden was still all ok, it was uncanny..

*Rustling leaves, a snapping twig alerts Alexander, he looks up and around briefly*

This may be the end…

*he quickly closes the journal, laying it besides him as he raises his USP slowly, waiting for whomever, or whatever is approaching*

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Major    645

Nice, getting better!

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Jm Von Cat    154

Nice, getting better!

Cliffhangers, dammit!

Thank you both, hehe and i know you love the cliffhangers!

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Jewell    15

Good story. Just noticed my characters name is very similar (Lt. Alexander Dukov) How strange.

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Jm Von Cat    154

Good story. Just noticed my characters name is very similar (Lt. Alexander Dukov) How strange.

How odd, and i do believe we met once when you and your Volki fellows were robbing me, ahh to bad we could not strike up a conversation.

Side note: 100th post! woohoo

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