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weedy wine

The Yellow Dog

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weedy wine    4

What was your thing? Was it sitting indoors on a computer all day (man have those people had quite the lifestyle change). For my neighbor, it was food. She would design these elaborate cakes. And eat them. I knew a lot of people for whom it was nature. They were all about tents, dehydrated meals, and campfires (are they sick of it all now?).

For me, it was dogs.

I used to breed Labradors. When the term “puppy mill” began to be thrown around a few years back, profits waivered, and I moved to Russia to breed Borzois instead. I could fetch a pretty penny for their ‘exotic’ nature. I found good studs and bitches around the local communities, and sent the puppies back to the US with my partner in the business. The income surpassed that of my Labrador days. It was good.

I brought one lab with me when I came to Chernarus. He was yellow, wriggly, and sweet. At night he would sleep with his head on my legs. When I left the house, he would lay by the door. When he felt like playing, his tail never stopped moving. But friendliness isn’t the trait you want when the world goes to shit. He didn’t last the first week.

Rest in peace, you yellow fool.

I hurt a lot over the next few weeks. So fucking lonely. I had packed a bag the day I knew things were serious – of canned goods and cereal, anything that would keep – some water and headed out. I hadn’t been in Chernarus long, but long enough to know where the deep woods were. It has been about three weeks since I’ve seen another human face. Sometimes I can hear a stray gunshot at night. I once heard the shrieks of a young girl. Made sure I never camped close to a city again.

I haven’t been completely alone, though. Exactly 5 days ago, as I laid down to spend the night wishing I was asleep, a large form crept out of the darkness and sat down beside me. I didn’t move. It was a borzoi.

I’ve been replaying a single piece of footage in my mind every night. The footage of that parent holding the hand of their child tightly and running. The reporter and cameraman who caught the moment of terror, were transfixed, for the briefest of moments, before turning to run for their own lives. I can’t stand it. I want to know what has happened to everyone. And anyway, my supplies are running low. I think it is time to venture closer to where I heard the screams and gunshots. A place where I can find food. Heading into Svetlojarsk. I hope this will not be my last entry. And hopefully that dog will stop following my camp. Every night he appears, I cry again. And the thing is, he is a yellow borzoi. In all my days of breeding, I hadn’t seen one before. I’m starting to think he is not real.

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Snafu    4

Awesome, never heard anyone do a profession like this before.

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weedy wine    4

Awesome, never heard anyone do a profession like this before.

Thanks :) Yeah I was trying to pick a profession that would explain my lack of fire arms skills and such in game, and something I hadn't heard before. I like RPing without a gun, and being kinda helpless about how to start a fire or deal with a robbery. soo yeah :)

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Guest TheShrimpPimp   
Guest TheShrimpPimp

a good read , unique back story to

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