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Vladimir's backstory

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Name: Vladimir Kashinkov

Age: 32

Height: 5' 8"

Occupation: Woodlander/Hunter

Another bitter day in Chernarus, the fire burning away in the cabin, the woods lay quiet for the night, and a tired man laid back in his chair, his breath hinting whiskey. Along the wall, were trophy heads. Deers, stags and the heads of other woodland creatures stared lifelessly. The man groaned, and shook the glass lightly in his hand.

He was in dark clothes, dark navy trousers, thick black leather boots and a weathered leather coat. Beside him, leaning against the chair, was a rifle - one adapted for hunting it seemed, a long bolt-action rifle. He slowly got up out of his chair, downed the rest of the glass and reached for his rifle. He spoke with a Chernarussian accent: "Time for another round." He loaded the rifle, heavily pushed through the battered wooden door and out into the dark woods.

The night was cold and he looked around with a stern expression. He began taking heavy footsteps through the woodlands - the area was very much all woodlands, and any roads or civilisation was quite some distance. A good twenty minutes later and he had moved far into the woods, and every so often a twig would snap or the animals would echo past the ancient trees. Alert, but with a heavy hangover, Vladimir trekked on. He enjoyed hunting alone, it was easier - he felt he had no need for someone to watch his back. He casually whistled a Chernarussian tune until he came to a halt - a loud snap. He looked beneath his feet, and it was clear it wasn't him that had made the sound. He hunched over some, and quietly began to follow the noise.

A few moments later, and a noise could be heard - not one natural of the woods. At first, it sounded like the quiet groan of a stag but closer listening revealed it was a more human mumur. "Ack. Bloody tourists lost in the woods again." He moaned quietly, he retained his previous posture and began walking normally to the noise. He saw a figure roaming in the distance. "Are you lost? Hey!" He began pacing towards the figure. It seemed to turn towards him, and shuffle some. Not replying however. "Hell, you've had a bad night." He looked to the figure - it was a man, with bloodied clothes, his eyes darkened and his face dirty. "What happened, did you get in a fight with bear?" The man didn't reply, and instead lunged for the man. Vladimir shoved him off with a chuckle. "I think you've a bit too much to drink." The man then let out a hideous groan, and showed his bloodied teeth, which certainly weren't human. Vladimir grabbed his rifle, and aimed at him as the man flailed his arms towards him. "Come on now, this is stupid." He grunted. The man lunged at him with an open mouth - BANG. The woods echoed like shockwaves. The man, now missing the top of his head, fell lifeless to the woodland floor.

He ran back to his cabin, went to use the telephone - no response. Then the radio blasted an automated message: "People of Chernarus, do not leave your homes. It is not safe, return to shelter." The message repeated, then silence. Vladimir stuffed his belongings and trusty rifle away into a small hunting pack. "Looks like it is going to be a rough night." He downed the rest of his whiskey, and left in a hurry. As he was leaving, the mumur grew louder - he turned back, a small horde had heard his shot. He sprinted in the opposite direction.

There will never be the night the same as that one, he muttered to himself. But there will be much more like it...

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Guest majarky

Amazing back story, interesting read.

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Great story. I would wish you good luck for your application, but I think you wont need it.

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