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Background Story - The Murdentist

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First off, HUGE credit to SumoS for writing up the larger portion of this backstory. He is quite talented.

My name is Thomas Krajicek, a brother of liberation, and son to Chernarus. At only 17, I had lived a life of happiness, success, and freedom. Being 24 now, those days are long past. I have witnessed my friends be killed, innocents raped and executed, a country ravaged by people we once called our ally. I have stolen, beaten, killed, and recently even murdered people. All of those killed deserved the punishment if not worse. They chose a lifestyle of hatred and violence and must pay the cost in blood. This is my story.

I was born in Chernogorsk in the fall of 1988, a particularly cold year where the annual harvest had almost failed. That year was tough for the people as food was scarce. I was raised on a comfortably sized farm in Pavlovo by my father Pavel, a veteran of the 1974 Revolution and the 1982 Russian invasion on Nogova Island. My mother was a well-spoken woman who had a fiery temper that could only be placated by my father’s charm.

As I was growing up my father would regale me with stories of his past. I remember being a little boy and dreaming of seeing my father fighting with the “FIA" (Free Island Alliance) alongside the legendary Victor Troska. The tales would always end with how he escaped the island after the war and ended up in Chernarus to start a new life with the love of his life “Milena”. I had noticed once, my mother had crept up to the door to listen to a story. Her face was long with sorrow and anguish. I can only imagine what she had seen during those years. Only the love of this brave woman could temper my father’s “war like” ambitions and allow him to start a family and live in peace.

During my teen years, I went through a heavy period of change. My father had been suffering from acute arthritis and had asked me to inherit the heavy chores on the farm. As a young man I rose to the challenge, waking up at dawn to work on the farm only to trundle to school a few hours later. This went on for a few months until tragedy struck. My mother had been involved in a hit and run incident. She had been killed outright by a driver whilst crossing the road to market. Broken-hearted and downtrodden by loss, I retreated inside myself. The only emotion shown was anger whenever my band of friends and I would brawl against the Zeleno Crips, a local copycat gang from the north.

The following year I decided to leave school. I signed up with the local military force to try follow in my father’s footsteps. Needless to say Father did not approve of these actions but he was happy to let me decide my own path. I served two years in the CDF, enlisting at eighteen until being removed from active service at the age of twenty due to injury. I had received shrapnel to the leg from an IED explosion and small arms fire to the upper torso as part of the same ChDKZ ambush in the spring of 2008.

Once suitably recovered, I sought out the Nationalist Party in the fall of 2009 in order to contribute to the war on the Russian invasion of Chernarus. I had been inspired by my father’s stories of the "FIA" and glorified their ideals. We conducted several raids and attacks against foreign aggressors in those years. With my military background, and my calmness behind a rifle, they assigned me to a sniper squad. It was a small outfit with only five members at the time. They offered me a Husqvarna bolt action chambered in 8mm, but I did not enjoy it’s feel, and ammunition was hard to come by. My grandfather had acquired an SVT-40 from the Second World War. I chose that as my work horse. Even though it had seen better years, and was fitted with a crude scope, it was still mine. With her, I have taken many lives. But I will tell you of one of my most memorable and respected kills, and how it earned me the trust of the soldiers below me.

It was an early spring morning in 2011 when we heard of a Chedaki commander, Fedor Sobolev, coming into our area of operations. For three years he had evaded our efforts to capture or kill him. Orders came down and I was tasked with removing him from our beloved country. He came into a position on the steps of the hotel in Chernogorsk. Situated roughly 500 meters from where he stood, I lay perched in the top corner of a grain silo in the train yards North-West of him. My sight dialed in and wind calculated, there was no better angle than this, now was the time. As he lifted a cigar to his mouth he looked in my direction almost as if to acknowledge what was coming. The air was quiet and brisk, leaving a slight numbness on my fingertips. I steadied my rifle and began to squeeze the trigger. Silence. Not a sound was heard as I felt the all too familiar 9lb’s of wood and metal recoil into my shoulder behind the force of a hand loaded 7.62x54R cartridge. Nothing heard but a slight ringing in my ears. Time seemed to slow down. It always does in times like this. My sight was blurred but I could tell he had fallen after the shot. I noticed birds flying off of roof tops from all directions. The sweet acidic smell of smokeless powder tickled my nose, exciting my senses as if it were a drug. Only once I heard the casing stop rolling on the ground beside me did I come back to reality.

One of our informants was waiting near the commander on the ground. He was there to confirm the death. From his perspective, the commander got shot through the side of the head from his left temple to the bottom right of his jaw. He must have turned his head at the last second. This trajectory led to the dismemberment of his jaw from his face, leaving for a gruesome picture of mostly blood and teeth.

That kill is how I earned the title of “Zubař” or “The Dentist” in English. Some of my comrades joke about how I “specialize in lead fillings”, or “no appointment is needed for my clients”. I appreciate their humor with these terms of endearment.

After these times, I continued to rise amongst NAPA’s ranks to become fairly well respected. I was still recovering from my wounds, and the loss of my friends but this couldn’t get in the way of my efforts. I had also met the love of my life, Eliska, and fathered twin boys. My father died shortly after the birth of my boys, but he was happy to see his only son with a family of his own.

I tried to keep a balance between my call of duty and being a supporting husband and father. My family was the fuel that kept me striving to ensure Chernarus was brought to its full potential. Unlike my father, I felt I had the strength to continue with both of these desires and hoped that being good at the one made me better at the other.

However, little did I know that an unseen threat had emerged in the North. An infection spreading, bringing madness and despair in its wake. As Chernogorsk felt the initial probing tendrils of this disease on its doorstep, a small crew of bandits had inadvertently become embroiled in a fire fight with the local militia after they had been trying to profit from the chaos. The tension caused by the effects of the infection had caused this incident to spill into the suburban areas where bullets flew wide and collateral damage was very high. A stray bullet had hit the fuel tank of a bus, which had been parked nearby to the apartment where my family had been hiding, awaiting my return so we could flee to the North. They were hit by the full force of the explosion and died instantly. When I arrived two days later the town was in turmoil. I retreated into the wilderness with the knowledge that I had lost my comrades to the disease and Eliska and the boys to bandits. The only thing remaining for me now was vengeance and liberation.

I have decided to take up arms against all those who would spoil the lives of the innocent. Together with my brothers of the Chernarus Liberation Front we will destroy all foreign aggressors, infected, and bandits operating in the region. Chernarus will once again be a peaceful and prosperous nation, but there is much work to be done and much blood to be spilled.

To my brothers in arms!

“Náklady na svobodě je cena krve!”

“The cost of freedom, is the price of blood.”

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You described your story so well i just attached so much with this, Its amazing i think you should keep writing and amuse us with these kinds of things.

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