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Cipher

The Black Fox Expeditionary Force (W.I.P Lore)

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Cipher    0

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The Black Fox Expeditionary Force - a program devised by the Icelandic government to clean the overcrowded prisons of, what they deemed, the scum that inhabited the island - foreigners. For the past two years, Iceland has been invaded by refugees of fallen nations, and foreigners that could not fall in line with the way things were on the island were sent off to prisons that weren't meant to handle such a large capacity. So, the government devised a strategy that would appease the natives and make themselves look good - an expedition program, similar to White Fox on the surface; send undesirables, expendables, off into foreign lands in the hopes of finding valuables and researching the outside world. However, in reality, these programs were sabotaged from the start. Black Fox members were given unreliable equipment, boats that were beyond repair; many Black Fox expeditions died out not far from the Faroe Islands.

However, this expedition was different. The members of this expedition weren't deemed entirely expendable - these men and women were scientists, doctors, businessmen, military - people that could actually accomplish the objectives that the Iceland government wanted accomplished. So, this time, Iceland was going to do it proper. The mission: get to Chernarus, establish a Forward Operating Base, research the infection, and find the most valuable resources to eventually take back to Iceland.

Will the team finish the mission and go back "home", or will they find a new one for themselves and abandon what they once had? The choice is theirs.

JEREMIAH NEUMANN and JON EINARSSON - "THE FOUNDATION"

The spider webs that hung to the ceiling had Jeremiah's attention for quite some time now. He watched the small, eight-legged creature work diligently, spinning the web back and forth on the ceiling's corner, attempting to lay an acceptable and sturdy base for the eggs to develop overtop of. The man seemed fascinated at the spider's dedication to moving his generation forward. The world could, quite literally, be coming to an end around the spider, and the spider couldn't be less interested. All it cared about was the eggs that it took ownership of. Its family. Nothing else mattered.

Maybe, one day, Jeremiah could have the same sense of purpose that the spider had at that moment. Maybe one day things would go back to the way they were.

His attention shifted from the work of the spider to the emptiness in his stomach; out of rations for the week, and it was only Friday. Did the natives really need all of the food that they kept stored in that depot?

"You alright? It's 11AM; shouldn't you have checked in by now?" Jeremiah looked to his left, seeing the door swung wide open without so much as a knock. The woman that stood in the doorway never did have an interest in knocking before opening.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you, Lilith." He raised his left hand to his cheek, diminished in plumpness over the two years of being underfed. He smiled a bit and rubbed the spot where his dimples would've once formed.

"I know. I'm hungry too." Jeremiah looked down at his right hand, covering his stomach. It was a natural reaction at this point - so much time feeling the same hunger pangs and responding the same way - with the hands covering the stomach, attempting to ease the pain - came without thought. It was quite funny how Lilith noticed the pain of Jeremiah before he did himself. "Seems like they're giving out less and less rations as time goes on," Lilith continued.

"Seems that way." Jeremiah switched the subject. "You're complaining about me not going to work?" He looked at his stuck watch, pointing at it in a teasing manner.

"Asshole... They, uh, told me to go home early today. Wasn't performing up to snuff, I guess.." Lilith looked down at the floor, seeming almost embarrassed at what she'd just told him. Jeremiah looked at Lilith's belly.

"How's our son doing? You check on him recently?"

"Son? It's only been a couple of months, Jeremiah. Could still be a girl.. don't you know anything about this stuff?"

"It could be a boy..! At least, I'm hoping it's a boy. I always wanted a son."

"And what if it's a daughter, huh?" Lilith stared down Jeremiah with an almost disgusted look on her face, piercing his warm but firm blue eyes like only she could nowadays. "What if it's a girl?" She seemed genuinely worried at the potential response. Jeremiah closed his tattered notebook, got up from the old, oak desk and shuffled across the cramped dormitory, into the doorway, so that he was a kiss' length away from her.

"Then I'll love that daughter just as much as I would love a son. Just as much as I love you."

---

Jeremiah sat at his post and watched the coastline, glancing at the second 2014-2015 calendar that the guard had put up since he'd joined. It was getting harder and harder to remember the date - there were no more calendars being printed to keep track. It was a clear day; almost perfect visibility. Great for spotting potential threats - not like the guard has spotted one any time recently. Jeremiah could recall maybe one time a fishing boat, full of desperate refugees, presumably from England or Scotland, attempted to enter Icelandic territory. Shot down and sunk so quickly, it was over before it started. Thankfully, Jeremiah never had to fire a shot at them - truthfully, deep down, Jeremiah felt bad for those refugees. It could have just as easily been him on that boat. Thank God that the company chose a supplier in Iceland rather than anywhere else in the world. Rumor has it that Iceland is the only country left standing, even if he didn't fully believe it. Suppose it isn't as bad here as Jeremiah's stomach says it is.

A cold hand pressed down hard on Jeremiah's shoulder. The first twenty or so times, it caught a genuine scare out of Jeremiah. However, it's been a solid couple hundred or so days since Jeremiah joined the Icelandic Coast Guard, and that cheap jumpscare isn't going to cut it any longer. Jeremiah didn't even flinch, instead choosing to continue to look out at the Norwegian Sea.

"Are you sure you are alright, friend?" asked Jon. He was a native - a first-class citizen of Iceland. Jon got to drive back home, to the city, in the army motorcade while Jeremiah had the great luxury of legging it a few miles back to the refugee camp. Jon got to enter the city, Reykjavík, whenever he pleased, while Jeremiah needed a damn good reason to even leave the camp at Strandakirkja. Jon got double rations, and even though Jon shared his rations with Jeremiah and the rest of the refugees whenever he could, it was still difficult to see Jeremiah and Jon in the same light. See, Jeremiah isn't from Iceland, much like many other individuals within Camp Strandakirkja. Jeremiah is an American - born in Erie, Pennsylvania to a businessman and a hardworking mother that happened to be a fantastic English instructor. He lived a relatively normal life and took after his mother after high school, grabbing his degree in Education with a focus on History before learning that he was a horrible instructor. Thanks to his father's kindness, he picked up a job working for his father's fishing company, which was on the rise at the time of the outbreak. In order to expand the company, Jeremiah's father decided to send him and another associate to Iceland to meet with the supplier - Iceland is a big exporter of fish. Lucky for Jeremiah - or unlucky, depending on your views of living in a refugee camp with limited running water and electricity - the plane that they caught happened to be one of the last travelling into Icelandic airspace before the outbreak grounded all air travel. Because of his status as a refugee, Jeremiah and Jon live polar opposite lives - Jon, living a relatively normal life in the city, and Jeremiah living in the understaffed and malnourished refugee camp at Strandakirkja.

But hey, anything was better than being out there. Right?

Jon asked again, a bit louder this time. "Jeremiah?!" Jeremiah snapped out of his daydream and looked towards Jon, who was standing off to the left of him.

"Just fine, Jon. Thank you." Jon followed Jeremiah's eyes as they returned upon the sea once again.

"Not as talkative today, are you, Jeremiah?

Jeremiah ignored the question posed to him, too fixed on the waves crashing against the rocky shores, wondering what lay beyond his new world. Are they really the only ones left, like the rumors suggest? "You remember those White Fox fellows that you were talking about?"

"Yeah? What about em?"

"Are they still.. active? Like they used to be? Before, you know, all the stories about bandits beating the shit out of them for intel and all that? I haven't heard anything about them in months."

"Well, they still operate those bases off the coasts of Canada, Norway, other places like that. But you're right, they aren't as active as they used to be back in 2015. Last I heard, they're looking to expand the program to move deeper into other parts of the world - but that's probably way off at this point. Why?"

"It's just.. there's gotta be something other than this. I mean, something better than this. Right? We can't be the last ones standing on the entire globe. The world was so different two years ago.. there was so much more.. so much more that I never took the chance to experience."

"Trust me when I say this - you don't want to be out there. Out in the shit, like White Fox. It is hell on Earth, being out in those devastated countries. It's a miracle that we don't have to deal with it - that we get to live normal lives."

"Speak for yourself, Jon. You get to go back home. I live in a fucking shithole."

"Living in the shithole is better than being across the pond. That is it." He paused for a minute, digesting what he just said to Jeremiah, almost like he didn't believe what he had just told himself. "I mean, have you seen one of those things up close? The 'things'?"

"No. You?"

"No, but my buddy, Adrian.. he saw one. He saw one turn, back when he was stationed at the FOB. He told me that it was like seeing the demon, the demon that is inside everyone, take over the rest of the soul. There's nothing else like it." They both shuttered at the thought. Truthfully, Jeremiah had never even seen one of the things at all. He didn't know the first thing about their appearance - just that they are scary creatures that will end the strongest man if they get close enough.

Jeremiah checked the clock that was nailed to the wall of the observation post they both sat in. 4PM. Almost quitting time. Jeremiah caught a break this week - he happened to get the daytime shift.

"Well, about that time, huh Jon?" He got up from his stool and started to move down the steps towards solid ground. "Gotta go check on Lilith and the-"

Jon grabbed his arm and wrenched him back, so that Jeremiah and Jon were a spitting distance away from each other. Jon said quietly from his chair, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you trying to get fucking caught? You know what they are going to going to do if they find out that fucking refugees are having kids in camp?" He squeezed Jeremiah's arm tighter with every sentence, real fear in his voice.

"Yeah, I get it," He said with a slight frown, voice lower this time. "Just doesn't make any sense. Aren't we trying to rebuild civilization? Having a rule on not giving birth seems a bit.. backwards."

"I never said I agreed with it, but at any rate, we've gotta do what we gotta do to make this food last until we can start growing again. That's what White Fox is for - those guys put it all on the line so we can expand further after this infection dies out. They are the ones that are gonna let us have kids again."

[align=left]Jon's words stuck in Jeremiah's head as he made his hike back to to the refugee camp. As he passed rows of tents and dormitories that were being constructed, he began to think deeply about the roles the refugees played within Iceland. Jeremiah was a scout for the Coast Guard, Lilith was a cook in the refugee camp, Lance was a farmer - actually, we haven't talked about Lance yet.

---

[align=left]"You fucking cunt!" Lance screamed as he slugged the resident asshole within the Refugee camp. Big guy on campus thought that he could fuck with people smaller than him, and he had to get sat down. Lance might not be the biggest guy in town, but he sure knows where to punch when it matters. Cunt was in the process of getting sat down, over some extra ration cards. Jeremiah watched the two trade punches until he decided enough was enough, and attempted to assist his best friend.

[align=left]"Okay, alright, back the fuck o-" Jeremiah couldn't finish the sentence before his head started to spin from the punch leveled at him from another man who joined the fight. Immediately the one-on-one became a nasty brawl, full of screaming and shouting. 

[align=left]"Jeremiah! Jeremiah!" rasped Lilith from outside the room. It felt like hours that Jeremiah spent on the ground, being kicked and trampled over as refugees knocked each other senseless for no other reason besides mutual frustration. Security took their sweet old time coming in to break up the fight, ending the conflict between the group of refugees before anyone got too injured to work the next day. After containing the situation, the next obvious step was to figure out who were the troublemakers - which two started the fight. The first offender, the big man, was outed near-instantly, and was hauled away; that left one last spot on the bus for one lucky contestant. One of the big man's friends pointed in the general direction of Jeremiah and Lance, which quickened the heartbeat of both of the two individuals. They looked at each other, wondering who was going to take the fall, when Lance said:

[align=left]"I'll take the fall. Take care of Lilith and the kid." With that, Lance pushed himself off of the wall he was leaning against and walked with his hands raised towards the military police, who took him by the arms and shoved him out into the open, off to wherever offenders in the refugee camp go off to. Almost never did they come back, and nobody really had an explanation. Jon told Jeremiah never to ask about it.

[align=left]As he walked back to his dorm, Jeremiah took a quick detour to visit Lilith in hers. Dorms were not co-ed in the refugee camp, as to not perpetuate childbirth, which was strictly forbidden to refugees. He hopped up the steps, using the last bit of energy that remained within his body, and opened the door to Lilith's dorm - room 412. He looked to his left and his heart dropped as he saw Lilith, completely exhausted and grey in the face, lying face up, staring at the ceiling, holding her stomach. She felt it too, perhaps feeling it even worse due to the baby she carried within her. After what felt like years to Jeremiah, she finally acknowledged his presence and her eyes slowly fixed towards Jeremiah's deathly afraid expression.

[align=left]"...it hurts.. to move.. you think.. that if.. we tell them.. they'd give us.. extra food?"

[align=left]Jeremiah hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slightly. "No.. no. We can't risk it. What if they take the baby? What if they take you away?"

[align=left]Lilith returned her eyes to the ceiling, which has still yet to be fully completed. She focused through the half-finished drywall, up into the wooden frame that made up the roof. "..You're right. It just.. hurts..."

[align=left]"I'll figure something out, Lilith. Just.. rest for now."

[align=left]"But.. if I miss too many days of work.. then they'll.."

[align=left]"Just-" He raised his voice slightly, out of frustration. "Just.. wait. Lilith. I'll figure something out. Hold on."

[align=left]"O...kay.." Lilith nodded weakly, keeping in rhythm with the syllables that edged out of her mouth.

[align=left]Jeremiah turned about face, walking quickly out of the room.

[align=left]"Love.. you.."

[align=left]Jeremiah sat in his dorm, leaning against the cold baseboard of the twin bed that rocked back and forth perilously with any movement. He stared blankly against the whitewashed walls of the complex, wondering if Lance would ever come back. It was only a fight, Jeremiah thought - but people have been shipped out for lesser offenses - missing work too many times, not pulling their own weight, attempting to steal from the food depot for extra rations - all were causes for deportation out of camp.

[align=left]His stomach rattled, begging for food after thirty-six hours of no rations. It was Saturday. Week begins Monday.

[align=left]Did the natives really need all of the food they kept in that depot? 

[align=left]Jeremiah fell fast asleep from exhaustion, the thought still lingering in his mind.

---

[align=left]An intense jolt of pain in his side woke Jeremiah out of his forced slumber as his eyes snapped open to the hospital room around him.

[align=left]"This is.. different.."

[align=left]And then it hit him. As he tried to sit up, everything in his body told him otherwise. His neck cramped up, almost like he had been in a brace for weeks. His head felt like it was in a perpetual state of rotation, and the brain that sat inside seemed to be dislocated, slamming against the skull wall with every motion. His legs felt like butter, and the pain in his side that had woken him up had multiplied exponentially, to the point of almost tears.

[align=left]With every new pain came every repressed memory of the last 24 hours. The burning of his arms could be attributed to the massive amounts of food he'd ripped out of a stopped truck, blindly hoping to save Lilith from her immense hunger pangs. The buttery, weak feeling in his legs were from the massive amount of time Jeremiah spent sprinting from the stopped food truck, back to the refugee camp and up to Lilith's dorm two duffel bags full of cans and rations in his hands. The head injury? Well, surely the guards that spent their hour break beating the shit out of Jeremiah, first time offender, while Lilith screamed as much as she could for mercy; yeah, they could tell the full story. He was captured, beaten beyond imagination, and sent off to where nobody comes back from; Litla-Hraun, home to Icelandic prisoners with a history of violent offenses. As Jeremiah read the sign on the door, denoting the medical ward of the prison, he realized this himself.

[align=left]Only after a few moments to gather his surroundings and situation did he notice the security guard leaning against the doorframe opposite the bed that Jeremiah lay in. He looked at Jeremiah sternly, with an undertone of apathy in his eyes. Looks like he's done this far too many times already, to people just looking to make their shitty situation just a tiny bit better. He read blankly from the notepad he carried.

[align=left]"Jeremiah Neumann, age thirty, American. That correct?" The guard continued to stare into the paper, never taking his eyes off of it as he asked the question.

[align=left]"Yes."

[align=left]"Guilty of grand theft and interfering with military operations. Sound true to you?"

[align=left]"Yes." Jeremiah accepted his charges. He knew who it was for, and why he did what he did. The guard continued looking down at the paper, only flicking his eyes up to Jeremiah for a split second. It was almost like the guard felt guilty himself.

[align=left]"I'll take it from here. Thanks." A friendly voice echoed from a bit behind the doorframe, as the guard took his leave and Jon entered the cell, refitted for medical purposes. Jon closed the door behind him and briskly walked up to Jeremiah's bedframe, setting his hands on the railing beside the hospital bed, and leaning over Jeremiah directly.

[align=left]"You fucked up big time, Jerm. You really fucked up big time."

[align=left]"I'm aware.." Jeremiah rasped, the pain in his side from the football kicks finally catching up with him. "But you know why I did what I did."

[align=left]"Yeah, I'm aware. That's why I told my higher ups-"

[align=left]"You WHAT?!" The anger flared within Jeremiah as he attempted to take a go at Jon. Fortunately for the both of them, the injuries proved more powerful than the rage within Jeremiah, and Jon easily pushed him back down into the mattress with an authoritative look on his face, sending the message 'do not try that again' to Jeremiah.

[align=left]"Hear me out. They were going to just send you off to die, just like they do everyone else, unless I told them something. So I told them about Lilith."

[align=left]"Where is she?"

[align=left]"Couple cell blocks down. Guilty of illegal pregnancy." Jeremiah writhed in pain and anger as he listened to Jon explaining his rationale. "Listen. I will make this very clear. There are two ways out of this situation." Jon spoke with the most serious tone he's ever spoken with. "The first way out; you refuse the offer I'm about to give you, and the original Black Fox initiative is carried out. Meaning, we send you, and whoever the fuck else that landed themselves in this jail, on a 'mission' out past the coast, like White Fox, with a fucked up boat. You won't make it past the Faroe Islands before it sinks and everyone drowns. Litla-Hraun, this prison, only has room for about a hundred detainees. How do you think we always make room for more prisoners?" Jeremiah shivered at the thought.

[align=left]"Or, you can accept this offer. I've convinced my CO to convince his CO that there is a better use of these prisoners - prisoners with a more promising background - than sending them off on suicide missions. This is the new Black Fox initiative. We send you, essentially expendables who were going to be killed off anyway, on an actual mission - to Chernarus. We're not going to let the UN carry out their interests without at least a little competition, so we send you and whoever else you decide to choose - excuse me, save - we send you guys off with a specific set of goals and tasks to accomplish. Do them successfully, and everyone goes home happy."

[align=left]Jeremiah sat with the idea for a minute. "Does Lilith get to come with me?"

[align=left]"No. We will make sure Lilith is taken care of. If you do not follow through with the mission, they kill Lilith and the baby along with her. Boom; there's your motivation for coming back safe and sound. Kapeesh?"

[align=left]Jeremiah continued to lay in bed, his entire world seeming to fall apart around him. He had no other choice, if he wanted to see his child, and if he wanted to keep Lilith alive. And he damn sure wanted to do both of those things.

[align=left]"Yes."

[align=left]"Good choice. One last thing - I'm gonna come along with you. It was part of the deal. I've sold my name to the expedition, to make sure that you guys don't fuck up. What a good friend I am, right?"

[align=left]"Yeah, not sure if this is an act of fucking friendship, Jon."

[align=left]"Well, maybe if you wanted to save your friendship and the status of you and your girl on this fucking island, you wouldn't have gone through with such a half-baked attempt at being the fucking hero. Should've kept to staring at the fucking ocean - you stupid Americans do that pretty well.

[align=left]You've got three days to choose who you want to save. We'll be giving you increased access to the prison, so you won't be locked in a cell all day, like everyone else, in order to find worthy applicants for this mission. Obviously, if you try anything stupid, or if we can't find you within this place, Lilith dies. I suggest you go around the campus, survey who would be a good fit. We're looking for doctors, military personnel, scientists - anyone who would be valuable on this expedition. The Black Fox Expeditionary Force - yeah, I quite like that actually. We'll go with that.

[align=left]Decide."

[align=left]With that, Jon left the room as swiftly as he entered, closing the door behind him. Jeremiah, exhausted and still in quite immense pain, focused his eyes towards the blank, grayish-white walls of the prison. Just out of the corner of his eye, towards the other end of the room, he could see what appeared to be a spider, spinning a web to affix to the corner of the ceiling.

[align=left]

[align=left]LANCE FORBES - "THE SCIENTIST"

[align=left]

"Where's Lance?"

Jeremiah, having had his fill of painkillers over the past few hours, motioned to the guard that he was ready to begin recruitment. With haste, he was helped out of his bed and led to the cell block where Lance was getting the shit kicked out of him by a couple of punks that saw Lance as just about the easiest target they could find in a max-sec prison.

"Fucking.. stop that! You cucks!"

"Yeah, that's the one." Jeremiah nudged the guard, pointing in the general direction of Lance.

"Him?"

"Yeah, the one getting the shit beat out of him-" the guard walked briskly towards the scene, reaching for his stun baton. Instantly the two 'cucks' were off in separate directions, sparing themselves the beating. Jeremiah rushed over, offering Lance a hand up. He refused it, staggering to his feet on his own.

"Oh, well, surprise, surprise! Nice of you to show up!" he said sarcastically. Jeremiah didn't catch the hint.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I was just talking to Jon and it hurt really bad to move and-"

"No, you fucking retard! You! How the fuck did you end up here! I took the fucking fall for you!" he pointed angrily at Jeremiah, his index finger trembling.

"I was just trying to get Lilith food, she couldn't move from the hunger pangs and-"

"Oh, right fucking excuse mate! Now we're all fucking trapped here! Who the fuck's gonna look out for her now!"

"Yeah, I know, I fucked up. Listen, I need your help-"

"And who the fuck is this Jon cunt you're talking about? Didn't know you had a side piece, Jeremiah, you sly-"

"Listen. Seriously. I'll explain it. Follow me." he motioned to the guard, who escorted them out of the cell block and into a conference room, which was just a tad bit safer.

---

"You fucking what mate!?" Lance slammed his hands slightly on the desk, propping himself up to face Jeremiah, who was sitting across from him. The guard was nice enough to leave the two in there alone, although there was probably a camera or a mic hidden somewhere.

"Let me explain. We go down to Chernarus-"

"Down? You say it like it's just down the fucking street, mate. Chernarus is a solid couple thousand fucking miles from this shithole-"

"We go down to Chernarus and set up a settlement. A forward operating base. We research the infection and the region for a couple of months and bring a couple of doctors stuck there back to Iceland, easy fucking peasy."

"You make it sound like a walk in the fucking park-"

"Well, it's the only chance we've got-"

"And what the fuck happens if we refuse?"

"Then we all get fucking thrown to the sharks and we all drown. Lilith gets a fucking firing squad." The words that came out of Jeremiah's mouth stunned Lance, and he sat back in his chair in shock.

"This Jon nob sounds like a right fucking friend of yours, huh?"

"Yeah, well, I thought he was. He's the one who gave me the choice."

"Right. So, why me?"

"You're a scientist, right?"

"Mate, I came here on a fucking gap year. I've only completed half of my fucking coursework."

"Well, you're the closest thing we've got to a scientist, so keep your mouth shut and tell them you completed your degree and we'll be solid. You're coming."

"Guess I ain't got a fucking choice, eh?" Jeremiah looked solemnly at him. "Yeah, right. I ain't got a choice. Well, who else is coming?"

"That's what I've gotta figure out. Gotta scour this prison for the diamonds stuck in the mounds of horse-shit. Just worry about not getting killed. We leave in three days."

"Yeah, alright mate."

Jeremiah got up from the table and opened the door to the conference room, not wasting a single moment to search. Lance followed soon after.

[align=left]

MICHAEL TURNER and BRANDON NGUYEN - "THE MARINES"

 "Meet Michael Turner", Jon tapped at the file as he spoke. "Age 24. Former Private First Class of the United States Marine Corps. 'Scout Sniper, as it says here. MOS 0317'." His pen slid across the desk to another folder, as Jeremiah watched with a blank expression. "Brandon Nguyen. No relation to Turner. MOS 0311. Rifleman of the US Marines. One's in the pen for insubordination, one's in the pen for theft, much like yourself!" He chuckled at his 'joke'. " And we want you to get both of them. They're in the room next door."

[align=left]"Why them?"

"Because every expedition needs a couple of meatshields to keep everyone else alive."

[align=left]

HERA JACKSDOTTIR and ATLI GRIMSSON - "THE COUPLE"

WIP

ALEX KOIVU - "THE LIFESAVER"

WIP

JAY and TYLER WILSON - "THE STEP-BROTHERS"

WIP

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Ramon    360

It's a long story to read, but I like it! :D

I hope to see a next part soon!

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Karolis    0

Quick question: Bring back to what mainland? :) Chernarus isn't an island, and Iceland sort've... is.

Well I guess he meant that Chernarus is like more out into the sea?

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Cipher    0

Quick question: Bring back to what mainland? :) Chernarus isn't an island, and Iceland sort've... is.

Yeah, whoops. I meant Iceland as in the mainland but I'll edit that. I'm a dummy xD

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Melvin    84

This is great. PM me if you need help with the lore. I can write a paragraph or two.

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Cipher    0

This is great. PM me if you need help with the lore. I can write a paragraph or two.

Thank you, means a lot Melvin :)

You've always got a spot on the expedition if you want it

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Cipher    0

It's a long story to read, but I like it! :D

I hope to see a next part soon!

Lore is looking really good so far Cipher

Thank you both for your words of encouragement! Excited to see where this group goes when we finally go IG

OP updated with dank ass music and links to character pages

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Commissar    119

Seeing as this group is from Iceland, and in our lore (of course we all know this or should) Iceland are the only ones unaffected by the infection. What about this group be turned into an official Lore group, similar to Vataga.

Seeing as these men/woman coming over from Iceland, they would have allot of information or at least should have allot of information. Being from the only country left standing, they would still have a government, infrastructure etc.. you know all that jazz. Now thinking realistically, Iceland could potentially have been in contact with other countries during that specific country's downfall to the infection, they could potentially know which countries fell first and which countries survived the longest, and potentially still have some of the government still alive. If a disaster like this did occur, Presidents and Prime Ministers and other high ranking Government bodies would be either flown somewhere safe or kept in some secret bunker that they would be able to survive in. Allot of this stuff I am talking about probably should have its own thread. But hopefully what I have written gives you an idea of what I am talking about, as I can rant on this all day, ways of advancing the Lore and all that, I also had an idea of a Chernarus group that could work along side this group. But anyway just a thought, let me know what you think.

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   1

Really sound Mack, can't wait to see this group become something, good luck with it man :)

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Cipher    0

-snip-

Yeah I definitely think this group has some reasoning to be worked into the official lore at some point. However I don't think that we could rely on the survivors that will be sent on this expedition to be knowledge banks, if you get what I'm saying. Loops and I were actually talking about this today; the survivors sent on this journey would be 90% refugees, people that aren't natives to Iceland, people who are expendable in the eyes of the Icelandic government. So they probably wouldn't have as much information as, say, the White Fox Expeditionary Force, because those people would've been the people that are native to Iceland and have been briefed properly and all that.

I also agree with most of your points and I hope that we can help flesh out the official lore at some point because some deeper explanation on how Iceland (and the rest of the world) fared would be awesome. I'm sure we'll have time to talk about it in TS Lankin, after all we are all Coldwater brothers now :)

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Commissar    119

-snip-

Yeah I definitely think this group has some reasoning to be worked into the official lore at some point. However I don't think that we could rely on the survivors that will be sent on this expedition to be knowledge banks, if you get what I'm saying. Loops and I were actually talking about this today; the survivors sent on this journey would be 90% refugees, people that aren't natives to Iceland, people who are expendable in the eyes of the Icelandic government. So they probably wouldn't have as much information as, say, the White Fox Expeditionary Force, because those people would've been the people that are native to Iceland and have been briefed properly and all that.

I also agree with most of your points and I hope that we can help flesh out the official lore at some point because some deeper explanation on how Iceland (and the rest of the world) fared would be awesome. I'm sure we'll have time to talk about it in TS Lankin, after all we are all Coldwater brothers now :)

Yeah, good points man. Maybe in the future there can be some sort of Lore advancing groups, like White Fox Expeditionary Force for example. Seeing as this group is 90% Refugees the information they would have would only be specific to what country they left. Like I was playing a Scottish character on this trip I should know some knowledge to how Scotland fell perhaps. Anyway if you want help with this, I'd generally love to get involved. And of course, we can discuss this in between firefights in TS haha.

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Cipher    0

Updated OP with some tidbits of extra OOC information as well as adding another section to the actual lore. One thing I'm interested to hear about is if the tone is realistic enough or maybe too dystopian? I was going for the dystopian vibe because I feel like that'd be a unique way to spin things rather than the hum-drum of I guess a more "realistic" refugee scenario, as well as to help stir up some conflict but if it's too edgy let me know.

also spelling errors kek

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Cipher    0

Very well written, and I love the format. Good job Cipher :)

Thank you my dude

Hopefully we can take a unique twist on the survivor group by actually being afraid of zombies this time as well as having a unique origin story. Can't wait to show it to you all when we get in-game

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Frosty    0

Very well written, and I love the format. Good job Cipher :)

Thank you my dude

Hopefully we can take a unique twist on the survivor group by actually being afraid of zombies this time as well as having a unique origin story. Can't wait to show it to you all when we get in-game

It'll be very fresh, and unique for everyone I'm sure, and seeing the RPer you are I'm sure it'll be awesome :)

#Hype

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Cipher    0

OP updated - finished the primary extended lore.

Next steps: create a creative origin story for each character that lands themselves in the prison, and explain Jeremiah's reasoning for taking them along in the expedition.

Leave your comments, questions, feedback, OOC hate, like always ;)

Recruitment for the idea is open of course, PM me if you're interested in playing a refugee from Iceland, and I'll write you into the story.

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Cipher    0

OP updated: huge ass thanks to Flashykins for the logo. WIP at the moment, but we're getting there.

Also fixed some spelling and grammar errors within the primary lore

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ECat118    0

My buddy Cipher, back at it again with yet another group idea. But as always, well written. Keep it up buddy!

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Cipher    0

My buddy Cipher, back at it again with yet another group idea. But as always, well written. Keep it up buddy!

Thanks my boy

UPDATED OP with those nice dividers, thread's starting to take form

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Frosty    0

Looking Sick Cipher!

Can't wait to see you guys in action, and the thread completed. I'll keep my eye on it. Good job so far.

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