Jump to content

Server time (UTC): 2023-09-30 23:42

Green Cross - Mastering Survival and Lifesaving Techniques
TODAY | 2023-10-01 19:30:00 (server time) | Starts in 19 hours, 47 minutes

The Hammer Shatters Glass, but It Also Forges Steel.

Recommended Posts

Well...what is there to say about myself, you want to hear my whole life story or some hovno like that?...fine


I was born to Vera and Vasily Kapralov in the year of 1976, my mother was..so loving yet, she had to be strict I guess raising three sons alone made you have to be. I always resented my father for leaving us like that, but as I grew older I realized that he had no choice, the call of war took him from us, but enough of my childhood

There's an old chernaussian saying that goes "The hammer shatters glass, but it also forges steel". Around the Black Sea, these aren't just words, but a way of life. Doesn't matter who your father was, how much money you have, or what some fancy paper says you're good at. In my homeland, strength is all that matters; the strong rule while the weak serve. This country was forged by hammers, and ruled by hammers.

That truth, that simple truth, is the only thing Boris my best friend and I were able to cling on as young boys growing up in the streets of Berezino. Like all young men, we dreamt of becoming big shots, powerful men, kingpins… Royals if you will. We thought if we could just be stronger and better than everyone, we would make it to the top. Like many boys our age, we joined some of the dock gangs when we turned 17. We thought being the baddest, toughest, pipe-hitting crew in the docks would make us strong and take us to the top. I married the love of my life at 22 and dropped the path of crime. True strength meant not risking your marriage over petty cash and a reputation on some docks, and I tried going legit after. For 9 years I provided for my family, because that’s what a strong man does, he provides for his own and doesn't go to jail for half a life time over scraps.

Everything changed with the Chedaki uprising. Boris and I witnessed first-hand Chedaki soldiers massacring entire villages; unmatched, unchallenged. It was then that we realized what being a strong man meant. What it took to be the top dog… To become Royal, first you must walk a path paved in Red. Like the Mongols 800 years ago, or the Russians centuries later, we had to carve a red path to reach the top. We joined the CDF at the height of the uprising and stayed with them throughout and after the conflict. Our ruthlessness and decisiveness allowed us to quickly rise through the ranks as we did anything in our power to reach our goals. By the end of the conflict I had become Captain of the 57th Regiment, and Boris was my most trusted Lieutenant. We had finally experienced what wielding true power meant. None of this prepared us for what was coming next...


The infection took Chernarus and the whole world by surprise. By the time anyone knew what was really going on, the damage was beyond repair. Our regiment was stationed at Guba Bay, and the failure of our leaders to properly organize cost my men their lives. Our post was quickly overran as we awaited further orders or valuable information about what the dead were and how to stop them. Out of 160 men, only a handful made it out. We attempted to get in contact with the central command, but the country was in chaos. The government, army, even the UN, they all failed…

We will not speak of the initial months of the apocalypse, they were filled with chaos and despair, and we all did what we had to in order to survive. Once we were able to recompose ourselves and accept the reality of the situation, we banded together with what little CDF soldiers we could rally.

The Day of Reckoning left us all in shambles, questioning everything we thought we knew. While some thought about faith, all we could think about was how this was allowed to happen. How could the situation have gotten so out of control? The more time passed, the more we survived, the more we realized that the situation COULD have been contained. It could have been suppressed. We looked to our leaders for guidance and they failed us, all of us. This beautiful democracy Hollywood and CNN try to shove down our throats, it didn't work. All it did was bring incompetent suits into power who did not have the means, nor the will to wield it and use it to help the people. They cared more about their career and reputation than they did about us, the people. Years of misery, corruption, and stagnation, all so the people at the top could stuff their pockets with the sorrows of the people.

Never again. 

The Old world has crumbled, it is now for us to rise from the ashes of failure and death and forge a country fit for the great Chernarussians that inhabit it. 


Out there, we've walked quite friendly up to Death,-

Sat down and eaten with him, cool and bland,-

Pardoned his spilling mess-tins in our hand.

We've sniffed the green thick odour of his breath,-

Our eyes wept, but our courage didn't writhe.

He's spat at us with bullets and he's coughed

Shrapnel. We chorussed when he sang aloft,

We whistled while he shaved us with his scythe.

Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!

We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.

No soldier's paid to kick against His powers.

We laughed, -knowing that better men would come,

And greater wars: when each proud fighter brags

He wars on Death, for lives; not men, for flags

Link to comment

And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder:

One of the four beasts saying: "Come and see." And I saw.

And behold, a white horse.


My home, My people, decimated by this armageddon, this cruel joke played on us by whatever benevelont being that sits above us; I hope he's laughing from his throne because we don't give up so easily.

I wonder as I sit alone, isolated from everyone else who feasts on the world like a crow to a festering cadaver, if there is any -hope- left for us for this world. Large numbers of people gather around and prey on the week, but prodigious size alone does not dissuade the sharpened blade. We are more scared of the hands of our brothers and sister then the gnashing teeth of the monsters who in one single blow clarified our mortality. I have heard the callings of my brothers, they call themselves Cerna Liska, proud, loyal Chernarussians who would drive the mongrel dogs from our land, those whom lay claim on our ancestral land as if it was their own when they have NO PLACE here. I've always wondered why they never just went back to their homes, their families, instead they stay here and deepen the wound already open and bleeding, but I and the Cerna Liska will staunch the flow and return our glorious Chernarus to what it was before. 

Those pinkos frugal efforts will be for naught once they feel our wrath for the match is struck.The blazing star is born

That is what I'd like to think at least, who am I but a rambling old man, drinking himself to death in some foul cabin in the mountains. Maybe...maybe this time I will succeed in my efforts to rebuild, Maybe I can earn the forgiveness of my brothers who lost their lives following my dream....


And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts,

And I looked and behold: a pale horse.

And his name, that sat on him, was Death.

And Hell followed with him.

Link to comment
  • 2 weeks later...

“It’s time for me to go” 


Standing he would look to the bright effulgent sky


“Whoever knew something so ominous could be so...inviting”

After months...maybe even years, time seems to freeze now, you can never tell how long its been. The old Chernarussian war veteran would leave his safe haven in the cold mountains of Northern Zagoria.

“It’s either this...or die up here alone, I will not cower any longer” he sighed as he carefully loaded a fresh magazine into his rifle and packed the remaining supplies he had rationed.


“Hmmm...only a few cans left..”

“Well...better get going” he said as he gently hoisted his ruck sack onto his back

He would walk and walk and walk, for what seemed like an eternity before he stumbled cautiously to the nearby farmhouse. Laying in the cold grass he would peer through his scope and look into the windows


He would bolt back his rifle and steady his aim, aligning the scope to the head of the man who sat on the front porch

“Now...what are you guarding in there to be carrying such a heavy weapon?”

The man would be slowly rocking back and forth in a old busted up rocking chair, a large rifle resting gently in his arms


“Whatever it is, I want it”

he would gently squeeze the trigger


The man fell limp, a gaping cavern of blood and brain matter now replacing where his face used to be, he would bolt another round into his rifle quickly adjusting the scope to the windows above taking out anyone who would be dumb enough to look out


The sound of 7.62 fire filled the air, standing he would hoist the rifle onto his back and take out his trusty sidearm, a pristine .44 revolver.


Rushing the building he would quickly check all the corners, it became an instinct of sorts from his days fighting the Chedaki back in ‘09, but what he saw huddling in the corner was no seasoned Chedaki soldier….it was a scared mother clutching her newborn babe in her arms. Ivan would scoff and point his revolver towards her

Dovolená” he yelled towards her, cocking back the hammer


The girl’s eyes widened as she ran past him and into the harsh wasteland

"i'm only doing what needs to be done..." 

the old man would say as he carefully searched the supplies he had just forcefully taken from the hands of his fellow humans.


Link to comment
  • MVP

Gosh. So mean.

Good read though.

Link to comment
  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.
  • Create New...

Important Information

We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue. You can read our privacy policy here: Privacy Policy