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Scarred and Forgotten - The Story of Honza Andres

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 Scarred and Forgotten

The Story of Honza Andres




My name...my name is Honza, but you can call me “Honz” for short. Born in the small town of Gorka, I lived with my two grandparents, Boris and Irena. They took care of me while my parents served in the Soviet Union during the late 1970’s and early 1980’s. By 1989, my parents were retired from the military and soon enough the Soviet Union collapsed. Which led to Chernarus breaking away from Russia and becoming its own independent country. My father then opened a pub in the nearest town of Polana where he would serve those who were looking for a good tasting beverage. Mostly to Soviet vets that served during the union’s tenure.

By the time I was 18, I worked at the pub full-time in which I helped my father clean and organize around the bar. During a cold December night, just a few days before Christmas, I was helping father close-up shop where a group of men walked in with heavy boots leaving snow trailing from the doorway. A very well built man by the name of Josef sat down with his two partners on each of his sides. In a cold voice he clambered, “Serve us the best Vodka you can find boy.” As I grabbed three glasses, Josef stared at me and gave a slight grin. You seem very well-mannered, boy. Your Father must have taught you well.” I peered back and with eagerness in my voice said, “Most of it I learned from my grandfather. He is a great man.” With a slight nod, Josef poured the shot of vodka down his throat with ease and grunted, “How about I teach you more…” He then stood up and asked me to meet him at the middle of Polana Square at midnight on Christmas Eve. Which I felt quite curious about why he would ask me to come.

Three days past, and it was the night before Christmas Eve, my family was preparing for a big Christmas dinner for the next day, and I was preparing to meet Josef and his men in Polana at midnight. As I made my way there, the sound of the wind howling through the air gave a slight bad nerve in my insides. I questioned myself, "What if they are going to try and kidnap me or rob the pub?” These questions swirled in my mind until I reached the middle of town, there Josef and his men greeted me with a handshake. Josef then asked, “So, are you ready, boy...oh wait was is your name?” “The name is Honza, but you can call me Honz.” I replied with the intention that something bad would not happen. Josef grabbed a jacket with torn sleeves and offered to me. This is yours, Honz. I want you to know that your are our bratr now.” With shock on my face I realized I was offered to join Josef and his gang of bikers. I replied, "Why me? What have I proved to you that I am worthy to be with you and your men?” With a slight laugh, he replied, “ I see it...I see it in your eyes. You have the passion...the eagerness to succeed. And, that is what you need to be a member of Stín…” Stín?” I murmured. “We are the ones who bring those of Chernarus who suffer, peace.” said Josef as he got into the back of a black van. “Meet me here on New Year's Eve, Honz. We have a special project for you.” He stammered with a huge smile on his face. I stared at that smile as the doors closed and the vehicle took off into the night...

Chapter 1 Coming Soon!

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Chapter I

12 Years Later...



The year was 2009...people were scared and chaos was around almost every corner. The Chernarussian Defense Force was in a very strict manner. Having curfews set to ensure safety upon those citizens who risked to go out during the day. The Chedaki threat opposing from the north were in full assault and had struck into many heated exchanges between the CDF. As years went by, Josef trusted me as if I was his son. I helped many who served Stín and doing so helped me become a better person overall. I gained maturity and a strong sense of composure towards others. Eventually, Josef granted me a high position in his council as well as access to take men on special objectives that Josef needed handled. As a biker gang, most people would be afraid of us, but the difference between Stín and any other biker gang is that we resolve around the people. Our job was to provide safety when the law enforcement couldn’t, and by doing so was to go against those that brought fear to the people.

As 2009 rolled in, threats of a communist terrorist organization known as the Chedaki rose into vast numbers. Chernarus fell into a harsh state and many towns were being attacked by these viscous communists day after day. For the Stín, we acted as a secret cause against the Chedaki. Since the curfews were in place, citizens caught outside expected time were arrested and brought into questioning. Though it was dangerous many of us for many nights would fight many Chedaki who had taken over many towns in the Northeastern region. Though we suffered many casualties, we made sure that our brothers who had fallen in battle were taken safely during combat. As for me, I watched fire burned and bullets fly in the air as we helped the CDF against the communist regime. Though the CDF did not know, we made sure to not leave any evidence behind to get noticed or caught. One night we surfaced upon my hometown of Gorka where flames burned through most of the houses and realised that my home was gone, and my parents and grandparents dead…

I was left bitter, depressed, and unstable for weeks. Many members started to think that I had lost my mind, but that was not even the start of it. Josef let me stay at the base, but I would sneak out to take out my frustrations on many shops. Soon enough, I was allowed back in to participate in attacks, and soon enough the Chedaki threat seized and Chernarus was in a state of rebuilding. Josef thanked me and many others for our efforts to help the Chernarussian people and one night allowed us to celebrate. That night, I met a beautiful women by the name of Lana, she and I grew a great bond and soon enough got married in early 2011. After getting married, I settled sort of low on being a vigilante biker and began to hopefully grow a family. That is until 2014 arrived...

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