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Gromoviti Znaci [Chapter 7]


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  • Legend

Chapter 1: Bratři v krvi

Bratři v krvi syn, Bratři v krvi. These words my father would mutter to me every waking moment of my life, for him, it was a his religion, his lifestyle and how he brought us up as children. He used to remind us each day before we went to school, before we went out for the evening piss up, the usual run in and our last moments together prior to our, unexpected vacation..

I am proud to be my fathers son, the man raised me in his image and in our heritage. I learnt more from my father that I ever could from a work book or a lecture. Honestly, he was right nearly all the time about them, they didn't teach you back then, they had no interest in teaching us about OUR history and OUR culture, no, they just wanted to teach us what they wanted us to be, how THEY wanted chernarus. Things haven't changed since I was young, people forgive...people forget and people have moved on..

What about the people who haven't forgotten? What becomes of the people who lived through their sceams, their plots and lies that have plagued through out our lands? What happends to the people whom fought for our rights on our own lands? Were is their dedication? Where is the sympathy? Where is our memory?

Thats the thing though, we are a minority in our own lands...and nobody remembers, and who really cares these days? Who cares about our heritage, our customs and our rights?

My father didn't forget and, my father, he never forgave. Some may have called it holding a grudge fueled with hatred, but we considered it fighting against opression and  ignorance, we called it pride and my fathers pride is what kept us alive. He fought back along with others who shared his idea's, they were Bratři to us all, our people fought for our freedom, a freedom to be who we are and be able to walk the streets in pride with our heads held high in the middle of our lands and scream: This is OUR home!

He would tell me how they stood strong, together and prideful. All of his Bratrs together in pride, celibrating after so many long years of lies, spreading the truth to people on what had been happening to them, to what they were losing in their lives, their own heritage. He would even tell me of a poem that he wrote along with his sister..

So many lives faded, withered away. And many were born.

Much that was great and significant sank into irrelevance.

Today became history, history became legend,

And fell into oblivion.

Yet nothing vanishes without a trace.

Everything that is sprang from what was

But in the end, history is dictated by those who have wrote it. But ours was errased. Our books were burnt, our festivals were criminalized, our beliefs were hunted, even our own tongue was a tabu. Everything that was us was no more and we had nobody that we could trust, not even in the cities, towns, streets and even our own homes. 

And thus, we became the mockery, the deadbeats, shadows of a forgotten time, and to some we became the uncultured swine in a "civilized" society..I won't forget Father...Bratři v krvi....Bratři v krvi...

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  • Legend

This is pretty great m8 I r8 8/8.

Thx lad, you get beanz for being such a lovely person :*

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  • Legend

Chapter 2: Sága krásy


I remember very little of my childhood, anything beyond 12 years is just a distant blur, a fazed image in a fog or mouthfull of throth on a beer mug. It's cloudy for me, mixed with many memories of both happyness and confusion. I didn't have exactly a huge home, but to make for that we had a huge family, Grandma..Grandpa, Mother, Father, cousin and Bratr. We didn't have much, but at least we had each other, father always used to joke about that whenever I got back from school, when the children from the city always used to boast about their new Radio or TV set that their parents bought them, father just smiled and said: Well, at least we have a big family, and thats something money will never buy Jitka. He then would called us all over for a family hug and he reached into his draws, drawing out his prized violin and started to play songs to us and mum would start singing to us all. It wasn't any fancy radio, nor some fancy TV from the americans, it was real, it was something we could hear and feel and it was ours.

 I slept at the furthest part of the appartment, I shared my room with my cousin, my grandma and my brother. It wasn't exactly how you would call Luxury, but we had each other close if we needed somebody to hold.. While my father, my mother and grandfather all slept in the livingroom by fireplace, the living room was right next to the toilets and the kitchen, so it was imposible to for bratr, cousin and myself to sneek in to get a mid night snack, the man would catch us sometimes and chase us all around the living room, we stepped over grandpa and mother in a rat race until he would catch us..It was one our midnight "shows" with father...or the times when we would play "Knock Knock"...

"Knock Knock" was one of Bratr's games we used to play when we didn't have school...after we finished going to church. We, cousin, bratr and myself would go to the top floor of our appartments, we would hang from the railings looking at each other inpassionately and await the church bell to strike the hourly ping, once it hit, the race began and raced each other down franticaly to the bottom of the stairs, knocking on each door of each family until we reached the bottom floor. We then bursed out the main entrance and ran through to the local field, running as quick as we could hoping nobody would see or catch up, running, running and running as fast as we would, laughing at each other and to ourselves until one of us fell over from running, or we reached the local football pitch at the edge of the city. At least then, eveything seemed simple, everything seemed so close, small and ours.

The world was our playground, the blocks were our castle, the streets were our fields and the city was our kingdom.

We were as my father used to call me, the sneak wild pack foxes. Nimble, agile and the most sneakiest pack on the streets! So from there,  from that point on we used to protend to be a pack, and named ourselves the Liska's. We snuck around the bases of the appartments and played tag with Russian kids across the street. The Liska's vs Sabaka's, the foxes vs the hounds in the weekly game's on the pitch. Tag, football, the high tormament of pebbles!

Such a simpler time...

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  • Legend

Oi! You were playing with Russians back then?

These are awesome stories Staggs <3

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  • Sapphire

These are really good Staggs.

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  • Sapphire

Nice read Staggs!

When do we expect to see part 3?

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An excellent read! I really enjoy the childhood type stories. I get sunk into it quickly.

Just be careful not to get caught when sneaking to get a midnight snack though hahaha.

Waiting for Part 3 :D

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  • Legend

Thank you everybody for their kind words :) Im hoping to keep updating every 2-3 days with new little background stories :)

Once again! Thank you

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  • Legend

This is some nice stuff Staggs. Can't wait to read some more.

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Excellent stories, can't wait for a new one, I really like the fell of how you wrote the story. Coming from a post-soviet country myself I can tell you that life there is simple at least until the last years and you captured that felling excellently.

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  • Legend

Chapter 3: Lulu ze mi lulu


Customs for all of us at home was part of day to day life, especially for Father. He always did enjoy his mug of coffee that mother gave him, it was for him the start of the day, not when the sun rose, but when mother brought him his coffee before he went to work. But for us it was a hot mug of milk before going to school, she would always say that "A warm Tummy leads to a warm loving heart", but the best part was at the end of the month, always on the 27th she would go down to the docks and talk to "The Friendly Men" and buy some meat from the mericans and  we were treated to hot chocolate the next morning. It wasn't much, but it was a treat for us, especially since chocolate was hard to get a hold of, and if you could find it at the local markets it was very expensive. Only the Blokhin's or the Yolkov's could afford it, father suspected that they knew somebody inside, got them food for half or a third of the usual price, because, according to him he would argue: They were Russian.

Father always was a suspicious man towords them, especially the Blokhin's. Father...Father never got along with them, he always used to tell me not to play with the Sabaka's once he find out what we were doing. We, didn't understand each other, us and the Sabaka's, but there was no real need to back then, we all understood that we just wanted to play and have fun, a nod meant yes, shaking of the head meant no and laughing meant were were all having fun..You really didn't need to have a full conversation with one of them to play a game, it was child's play.. For me, I never did understand why father forbid us from playing with them want, but he was always right, I didn't understand fully what he meant "They aren't family" until I was much older..not until I finally started going to school and we started hanging around with people whom we understood each other... The "Larkish Little Liskas" as my father used to call us. He let us play outside with each other until the sun started to come down, thats when it became family time..

He loved getting everybody together by the fire as the sun sets. He would gather everybody by the fire during the winter when it was cold, telling us all that we all would be warm if we stuck together. He would always smiled at us and said that we would be warm if we all continued smiling throughtout the night, so our hearts would warm each other up. So we all snuggled together, we all shared blankets and quilts while surrounding the fire, Bratr, myself and Cousin always used to share the same one, Gramdpa and Grandma would sit on the sofa together sharing the same blanket holding each other. Mother would sit between father's legs while he sat on his chair with his violin on his shoulder.

He then would start playing slowly to us all, encouraging us all to sing together and hold each other...But mother would always lead, father always said that there was one reason why he fell in love with her, and that was her voice, she had a voice that could send anybody to a distant land and was able to touch the hearts of anybody that could hear her...She was able to sing anybody to sleep with her soft voice in a sweet lullaby, in the ambience, the music and the sound...

It was always a perfect way to end the night...and the week to prepare us for the next day.

We always ended it as we started it, holding each other in each others arms...because in the end...Bratři v krvi

Ľuľu že mi ľuľu, upečem ci gruľu,

a ked mi budzeš spac, upečem ci pagač

Ľuľaj, že mi ľuľaj, šive očka stuľaj,

šive jak holube, dzecko mojo ľube

Haju že mi haju, muj želeny haju,

kedy že mi z tebe lisca opadaju

Koliš, že mi koliš, kolisečko sama,

vera ja nebudzem, bo ja zunovana

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  • Sapphire

Again amazing read staggs!

Keep it up lad

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  • Legend

Chapter 4: Noví přátelé a nový nepřítel


It was always so cold...that feeling when you can feel the blood passing slowly through your body, your head down to your chest looking below, shivering as you stare at your snow burried legs. It would always cover up to your knees at the winters peek. I remember that.... that cold, wet feeling in each step, the gales of wind that would lift you up from your feet and the most entertaining part (for me that was) the crunching sound as you break the snow leaving behind you your footprints. I would spend more time hopping around in the snow than walking, it was like walking through ice with only a thin layer of clothing seperating you from the snow. It was...depending on how you woke up and felt that day a pleasure to wake up to or a curse... 

It was hard... it was so hard at times to keep warm, we couldn't even afford to keep the fire going at times, in the winter it was always to expensive, so father in the summer would always go to the black forest up north, we went there every Saturday to gather wood for the winter with our neighbours, looking back at it now, it wasn't exactly "legal" what we were doing back then, but we needed the wood to last us the winter. The problem was... once that wood ran out, we had nothing, nothing keep us warm so, we had to always be careful what we burnt. it would honestly explain why Father had me and Bratr on look out. He would tell us to go and play a "game", beforehand he would tell stories that, fox's have keen eyes, but only because since they were little cubs they were playing vision games to better their sight. He said for us to be be great Liska's Father sat us on on the outside were they were cutting, and were to try and spot if we can see anything. Animals, insects but especially people, he said that "The rules of the game are simple":

 If you see a animal like a Bird, god, Wolf, bear, deer we should always write it down in our little watch book. If we spotted a Fox we had to get to our feet very slowly, we had to keep eye contact the whole time, the fox is a cunning creature and you must treat it always with respect. It wasn't the most dangerous of the animal kingdom. The liska wasn't like the Volke, proud social animals that hunt in packs, nor was it a bear, strong, independent and wild. But the Liska was caring, cunning and sneaky. It knew when always to strike and when to show itself. So, as my father always used to say: When you address the Liska, you must be as sneaky and silent as he is, and once your on your two feet, you bow softly, never taking away eye contact, if it saw you and was caught out, it would bow back. Father always said, when he was a child, he would play this game with his sister in the black forest also and one day, they saw a Liska covered in a dark black sooted coat, with a pale white chest. So, they both stood there, silently still and quiet as a mouse, they stared into it's silky coat and watched it's light paws and once they gained eye contact, they bowed every so softly at it and in return, it bowed back to them. Since then he would tell us stories of the fox that he saw, and how it always around to point him out to the right direction, or where to escape when they were in trouble. You could say...It was his good luck charm..

The Cerna Liska...

But the winter here was always harsh, the cave in's, the power cuts, the endless cold but the worse was in 1977. I was 8 years old at that time, and It was during the middle of Febuary exact day? I honestly can't remember, as a child I really didn't care much for the days of the week, unless it was a Friday or a Sunday. Who really cared either way? But even so, it was a day were I made for me, my first true friend...

We had been without power for 3 days at that time, the snow had packed us over and all powerlines were cut, it was to dangerous to go out for food as the roads were overrun and the winds were strong. But the house was cold...soo very cold, the wood we would usually collect downstairs had been caved in due to the snowstorm at the begining of the week, so we had nothing to heat us up with. Luckly, we had friends.... On the 3rd night, while we all huddled together to keep each other warm, telling each other stories and reading books just desperately trying to keep our minds away from the cold we all heard 3 knocks at the door. My father, stood up slowly and walked while covered in a huge blanket went to answer the door, and there stood a Tall skinny man. He was taller than most men, but he didn't have the bulk to put with it, Bratr would always call him "lanky legs" from that day on but it seemed that Father knew this man from work and were good friends. He came to offer us a place to stay, somewhere warm on the top floor with a fire and food to eat for the next few days. My father wasn't the type of man to show emotion or to cry, but this was one of the only moments I have every seen him cry, he lent on the man, holding him tight and thanked him softly as he mumbled against his shoulder. He then turned at us and smiled with a tear down his cheek, telling us we would all be ok, that we could be warm now and safe, everything would be ok again and we could finally sing and listen to music again together as family and Bratrs.

We all huggled together upstairs with the quilts around us all, we took what we could... Books, the little food we had to help the other family along with my fathers violin and we entered the house. The first thing I remember is that, the whole room felt like walking into an oven...it was so warm...but yet it looked so cold and there by the fire stood a women and a young boy and That boys name Was Xaver. We all snuggled together and ate that evening, smiling as we played music to forget about the troubles in the real world and the lack of heat and power we had in the flats... But we had eachother...thats all that really mattered..

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  • Legend

Awesome read Stegs <3

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  • Sapphire

Really nice story Staggs! Can't wait for more chapters :)

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  • Legend

Thank you guys! <3

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  • MVP

I was forced to post here.

Good story <3

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  • 2 weeks later...
  • Legend

Chapater 5: Černá Liška


My father was a talented man. He was always able to change the tide and the ambience of our or any home. He made bleek situations go from seemly hopeless to a party inside a tiny, tight room. Father, Father wasn't the type of man you would see to sit down, laying on his back or think over a situation, he would always say to me: "Zlobivá trochu liška je líný trochu liška"(A naughty fox is a lazy little fox) he loved to dance, he loved to sing and was a fantastic storyteller and on top of that, he wasn't shy in getting others involved in his shenanigans. When we arrived at the man's house that evening, the long winter night, he sat us all down by the fire, gathering us all together while Mother went with the other grown ups to prepare us dinner. He gathered us by the fire, Xaver, Ludvík and myself, and formed a circle.He was in the middle of the circle.at infront of the fire, his body glowing from the fire behind, darking the entire room. It was still warm though, even though he blocked the light the heat stayed just about right for us all, we all still had that warm feeling around us all, at least, thats how I felt went it happened. Xaver could never remember the first time he met me, he always just "did", but this was the first time we all had sat together as a family.

Father looked at us all as we gathered around, he muttered us to all lay down on the floor and get comfortable,so, we sat in front of him, Xaver layed on the ground looking up at him flat on his belly and brother and me sat on our knee's, looking up at him awaiting what father had planned for us all. "Why, aren't you all a little bunch of cheeky foxes aren't you?" he said, smirking as he lent over to his side, picking up a small little book with a brown leather cover around it. He opened it and help it with one hand, the other flipping the pages as he held a small pencil. "Right then!" He gasped as he lowered the book to us. We all gansed over to him, looking over at the open page's from his book. "This, this my son's, this is the Cerna Liska" He whispered to us all. We all looked up to him with curious eye's, in what he ment. The drawing itself was of a small Black Fox, it's body was the darkest shade of black you can ever see with a tail pinging upwould's to the top of the page, it stood there looking right at us with it's small blue beedy eyes and underneith a wintery snowy white chest. He smiled as we all scramed over the page and whispered at us once again "Have you ever heard the tale of the Cerna Liska children? We all looked up at him again, shaking our heads in curiousity awaiting him to explain to us the importance of this creature.


"Children, you ever wondered why you must always bow at the Cerna Liska? He is the King of the foxes, his white mane is the whitest in all of Chernarus and his tail is as swift as stroke of an painter. He isn't the biggest of all of the foxes, nor is he the most beautiful of them all, but he is the smartest and cheekyest of all the foxes, and he leads his pack in the wilds of chernarus, his home, his palace and his kingdom. Let me tell you a small tale of him and his family...

Liska's aren't animals you see in the wide open, they aren't like the proud wolves who display themselves to everybody, showing off their fantastic mane's and beautiful fur coats. No, to see a Liska, it's a gift, an honor as they are shy creatures, but by no means prideless animals. For those who didn't give that respect, the Liska's would play game's to those whom don't...

It was late Autumn, near the village of Polana, back before the Russians had built that massive industrial district near the town, it was a peaceful town filled with farmers and village people. There was a local farmer, he went by the name of Bradov and he owned the biggest wheat field in all the town. He gave to all the chidren cereals for breakfast and bread for tea and his wheat was the biggest, most juicy and fluffiest grain in all of chernarus. It was one evening, while the farmer was outside tending his crops, and playing with his dogs he heard a slight whimper.

What was that sound? The farmer muttered to himself. It was me, I made that sound. He looked down at his feet, and there stood a small fox looking right up him. The fox then bowed at the man, and looked back up at him with his small eyes. What do you want Mr Fox? Said the Farmer. Nothing Farmer Sir. Responded the Fox. I am just looking for some food for tonight, my brothers hungry and he needs some food tonight, we all do really. Food? Cried the Farmer. Why would I give you food Mr Fox? All you do is eat my chickens! I do Farmer Sir. Replied the Fox. But it's what we do Sir, It's the rules of these lands. The Fox eats the chicken, the wolf hunts the fox and the man hunts the wolf. Are you saying that, I should just let you eat my chickens Mr Fox? Replied in shock the famer. Yes! Smiled the Fox. Because you didn't give me a proper greating Mr Farmer Sir so you must give us a chicken as a gift for your rudeness and rudeness must be apologised for. What is this crazyness Mr Fox! Get out! Get out or I will get my dogs on you! Shoo! The farmer chased the fox out of his farm, he ran and ran while chasing the fox out of his garden, out onto his fields and back into the forest.

The farmer then smiled as he turned back to him home, proud on how he taught the fox a lesson. So he went home, he snuggled up into his bed and with his wife for the evening. Thinking about his encounter with the curious little fox. Apologise, me? Hmpf Grumbled the Farmer. He was the rude one for sneaking up on me. The farmer went to the side of his room, he turned of each light and shut the windows and snuggled into bed. I'm not paying anything. He muttered. 

Boom! The sound of chickens clucking in the night in fear and shock, the farmer awoke and ran outside quickly as he could. He opened the chicken pen and looked inside, all but 2 chickens were there a male and a female in his little coop. He stood there in shock, wondering what had happened until you suddenly heard a familiar whimper. He turned and looked down and saw the exactly same fox before, it's beautiful black coat and it's beddy blue eyes, but with a chicken in it's mouth. He tilted his head and smiled at the farmer before he muttered: Always bow to a Liska Farmer man, or we will come and play our little game with you. He bowed once more and then scurried inbetween the farmers legs, past the chicken coop and past the fence. He vanished.....

Moral of the story children... When you greet somebody, always be respectful, or maybe he might just feel a little bit of mischif from our furry little friends..

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  • Emerald

Just read the whole thing. 10/10 Staggs, very well written, very interesting.

It's missing some Xaver bonding though <3

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  • Emerald

Really nice read, excellently written plz keep them up!

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