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Frayzies

J. Cotton

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Frayzies    6

[mp3]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/188806680/Come%20Tomorrow.mp3[/mp3]

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" ... I was takin' my pride in the pleasures I'd known, I laughed and thought I'd be forgiven,

but my laughter turned 'round eyes blazing and said my friend, we're holdin' a wedding.

I buried my face but it spoke once again, the night to the day we're a bindin'

and now the dark air is like fire on my skin, and even the moonlight is blinding . "

"Rake", Townes Van Zandt, 1969

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I won't claim to know what kind of people the citizens of Chernarus were before all of this, but if anything is for certain, they somehow managed to find a way to be even grungier than your average Eastern European. Four days I've been here and not one shower, tub, or sink has had any sign of soap, shampoo, hell not even shaving cream. After walking for an hour now I've surmised at least three possibilities - and I think I did a pretty good job, too. Chernarus either had a population made up entirely of new-age Hipsters, the people here were dirty as piss, or there are still enough people left to nab whatever there was to wash with. As much as I'd like to imagine an ex-Bloc puppet like this being made up of neckbeards with big-rimmed glasses, I get the feeling my last idea might be the kicker. The fashion here is decidedly Russian as well, and from what I can tell the Deadies are still wandering around in leftover 80's shit from the West that their owners bit-it in. Stuff's tacky, but I'll admit it looks like it's holding up better than my coat is; might just have to throw on a set of ugly-as-fuck Russian trends here shortly. Wouldn't that suck, dying in a tracksuit?

Been on this railroad for a while now. I've figured that since the beach has been within earshot since I came across the thing that it'll probably follow the coast all of the way back up into Russia - not a bad plan if I want to keep good time. If the people here were anything like the people anywhere else I'm going to imagine that there is at least one major port town along the coast before I hit Russia again; and from the abundance of chewing tobacco in the few houses I've come across now, I'm going to go on my hunch that Chernarussians were just like everyone else.

Who knows. Maybe they're fantastic people. Maybe they're cannibals that want to eat my feet. On that, I think my feet look pretty good despite all of this walking - I think if I was a cannibal I'd probably go for them. Weird thought. Either way, with any luck I won't have to find out and my trip to the North will go unnoticed, assuming there aren't any high-rises with squatters in them. That Ganja Gook back in Germany had a good thing going on. I'll mock it up to being lucky that they were more interested in trading for my Game of Life set than taking my boots, but I guess maybe they were just good guys. Could've pinged me no-problem from on high with those apartments though, definitely.

Probably best to gauge the locals at a distance, maybe grab a tent while I'm in town. I do admit I remember hearing the names of these towns somewhere before. I'm completely certain I haven't been here, but maybe it was on television back home or something. I'd think it unlikely seeing how much of a backwood this place is (I'd dare to say that this could be the real-world Tattooine, minus the sand) but I can't imagine I would have heard of it anywhere else. I'll just have to breath up the time that's passing and see where things go, because lord knows I have no idea.

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Frayzies    6

You're returning!?? Welcome back <3

Yessir. I've put together three characters and will shift from one to the next when the character I'm currently playing (John Cotton at the moment) happens to bite the dust. Will start a new Lore and Stories page for each one as well, with John Cotton being the first. By the way, I'm glad to see you're around Udgar. Always nice to see old faces from back at Pobeda Dam. c :

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Husky    0

I wish I could write like you, sadly I can't update my own too often because I only write a out stuff that happened to my character in-game :)

I hope to see more of my favorite radio host, my mango ;)

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Frayzies    6

I wish I could write like you, sadly I can't update my own too often because I only write a out stuff that happened to my character in-game :)

I hope to see more of my favorite radio host, my mango ;)

Heh, nothin' wrong with writing about things that have happened to your character in-game if it provides an interesting insight into your character's head. In all honesty what you've described will likely end up being what I do with this thread; basically my best effort at replicating an endless stream of thought.

Oui. Mango.

Frayzies wiggles his fingers.

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Frayzies    6

[mp3]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/188806680/Townes%20Van%20Zant%20-%20None%20But%20the%20Rain.mp3[/mp3]

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" Fingers walk the darkness down, mine is on the midnight,

gather up the gold you found, you fool, it's only moonlight . "

"Lungs", Townes Van Zandt

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Cold days with a fair amount of rain, but what with how the weather's been lately I should've guessed it wouldn't let up. My stop in that village on the coast went off without a hitch with not a soul in sight. I'll admit I did have to ditch the place, tail all tucked between my legs what with a couple of the deadies fast on my trail. It didn't take long to give them the old one-two slip, but with all of this running I'm starting to become more and more certain that my kidneys are made of charcoal or something. The shit is like a knife to the gut. My moaning aside, stopping in town prior to heading North ended up being a smart move; I managed to end up replacing most of what I'd used up in the past few days, not to mention a few intriguing extras. Found an old motorcycle coat that fits me just fine, and nestled in the breast pocket of the thing there was, to my pleasant surprise, an old .357. Thing looks like it's from the fifties, but she's in pretty good shape and I've got a few rounds for the thing. The weight of the metal in my hands has an odd effect on the mind - cold but comforting. Much to my amusement I like to whip her out and point it around, if only to get a feel for the wieldy-ness of the thing. I know I'm going to need it at some point or another, but you won't find me holding my breath in anticipation.

Came across the prettiest thing I've seen in weeks earlier yesterday. Tucked underneath the bed in some long-lost farmer's cabin I chanced upon most peculiar of yellow boxes, and nestled inside was the fanciest pearl-gripped .45 I've ever had the good graces to lay eyes on, movies included. I don't claim to have ever really seen any M1911's in my time, but I knew the moment I took it in-hand that if I could go superman and turn back time this thing would go for one big penny at the old pawn shop. Excited by the prospect of dicking around with the .45 I rummaged through the rest of the cabin for the better part of an hour, but not-a-one round for the thing could be found. Bit of a bummer. I figure now it'd be best to keep it as a poker-chip for if I come across someone anyway; you'd be surprised what kind of good graces a token like this can get you in. It's not like it's loaded anyways, so no real risk I figure.

Spent last night in the dingiest of barns, but I guess there's no sense in complaining if I'm the only one to hear it. On a positive note the place was surrounded on all sides, save for the front, with what I'm going to go on a whim and say were Braeburn apple trees. Made a little pile in the barn next to the fire and nodded off a bit to the ebb and flow of the rain - it wasn't long before sleep crept up on me, save for waking up a few times in the night at the sound of hooves. By then the dark laid like a blanket over the land outside of the barn, but I'm certain it was just a stag settling down for the night. Couldn't find him in the morning though. Lucky him.

Today's skies have been looking better. Traveled due North at a respectable, albeit somewhat leisurely pace for the good part of the day, only stopping in what I caught on the horizon to be some sort of old ruin. Maybe a castle of some sort? Either way she's empty nowadays, though I suspect that's probably been the case for a few hundred years now with how it all looks. An odd air about the place added to the already nerve wracking experience of being so out in the open, and with that I of course wasted no time in getting out of Dodge. I've tucked myself into an old hamlet just east of the ruin for the night - a quaint little place with two floors, two beds, and a gas stove that surprisingly still works. Nothing in the way of anything useful, but an old photo album serves as amusement while I watch the last sliver of sun escape behind the trees out on a pointed horizon. For all of my admitted prejudices this truly is a beautiful country, and I can't help but feel a sting in my throat as I flip through this nameless book of friends and memories. How many hands might have done the same in the time this dusty chronicle has sat here, I don't know. Maybe someday the original owners will come back to it. Maybe "Sergei", "Antony", "Vitaly", and "Anya" will make it.

I need to put up sheets, the heat is getting out.

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