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Hope on the Horizon

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// This is not the beginning of my character, Brandon's, story. Rather, this is some time between the start of DayZ and his arrival at the Trade Post. I haven't been able to play much, so I haven't actually met many people yet. But, for now, this is one way for me to "flesh out" my character and his personality without divulging too much about him, as I feel that should come from role play. So, after finals in a few weeks, I hope to start meeting more and more of the community. But, for now, hi, and I hope you enjoy my short little scene.

The soft crunch of leaves beneath the young man's boots seemed as if it was the only sound echoing about in the otherwise silent and dark forest. Worn on his back was a decently-sized gray backpack, filled to the brim with as many supplies as it could carry. Strapped to his left hip was a pistol; some sort of 1911 is what he believed it to be--he wasn't all that familiar with pistols, but he knew how to fire it. His white long sleeve shirt was stained and marred by all sort of debris, ranging from dirt to sweat to blood. His dark blue jeans were equally as dirty. Worn over his shirt was a black bullet-proof vest in fairly decent condition. Sitting atop his head was some sort of headset, with a wire running down to a radio on his other hip. He would turn it on several times throughout the day, but only received static. The man's face looked tired, but awake, and his jet black hair, despite its short cut, looked greasy and unkempt--it was obvious it had been a while since he'd had a proper bath. Clinging to his left wrist was a leather beaded bracelet, which spelled out the name "{B}•{R}•{A}•{N}•{D}•{O}•{N}".

Brandon continued his trek. It would only be a few hours until dawn, and he had found that it was safest to travel at night and to make camp during the day. Those things were much less keen at night, barely able to see or sense anything directly in front of their face. For now, he had managed to travel deep into the woods. They rarely seemed to wander out this far. Those things typically stuck closer to town. This would allow him time to rest up, though he could barely bring himself to sleep more than five minutes at a time without checking his surroundings. Despite being fully awake, every now and then he would feel as if he had slipped into some sort of dream and that all of this was just one big nightmare, but he would always wake up and the nightmare would continue. Perhaps it was his mind slowly breaking, unable to cope with the state of the world. The pistol at his side could brin--

No, he didn't need to think like that.

After a few hours, Brandon had found himself sitting in the shade of an old tree as the early morning sun began to rise. Despite this apocalyptic nightmare, the rising sun always managed to comfort him. It was as if it was telling him to continue on, a sign that the world hadn’t yet completely ended. Tilting his head back, he raised an open can of beans to his lips, pouring some of the contents into his mouth. He’d never thought of silverware as a luxury before. Popping the lid off nearby a canteen, he chased the beans with a refreshing swig of water. Looking down to the radio at his side, he flipped a switch on it. Static. The buzzing of static filled his ears. What was new? But, he couldn’t allow himself to gi—

“Attention, attention. Is anyone out there? Travel north. We are located at a base on Klen Mountain, south of Krasnostav. I repeat, we are located at a base on Klen Mountain, south of Krasnostav. We have food, we have shelter, and we have medical supplies. Attention, attention. Is anyone out there?”

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