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Server time: 2019-04-21, 07:14
The Nikitin Prodejna - Trade Post Event
TODAY | 2019-04-21 17:00:00 (server time) | Starts in 9 hours, 45 minutes | Chernogorsk Docks | Peaceful

255.52MHz Leatherman Radio [Open Frequency]

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The sound of owls and the chirping of insects could be heard in the midst of the night in burgeoning spring when the transmission began, a man's voice following soon after with a soft, southern twang.

"Howdy folks. Name's Mason, or just Mace if you prefer. Some of you may know me as the Leatherman, or Rainbow, or any other sort of nickname that I've picked up during all of this. I've been gone for a while dealing with my own health, but like I mentioned in another broadcast a couple of days ago I ain't dead yet." 

A soft, tired chuckle came over the waves as he paused, the quiet voice picking up soon after once more.

"Spring's coming, and even though I didn't do my winter survival tips last winter it seems like plenty of folks have pulled through. I don't have my tannery anymore, nor do I really have the means to do a great deal of work on the go, however I thought I'd make this broadcast to let the people who might not know me understand a bit about what I try to do. Before the Green Dragons started cracking down on trade I was a traveling merchant, and I'm still not sure exactly how the whole issue of permits, taxes, and the like is handled right now I think that my secondary profession might be more of use with some of the places I've seen being built."

"To put it simply I'm a scavenger, and I tend to have a bit of everything when I'm fully stocked. Nails, wire, tools, things you might need for building or reinforcing your settlement? I can see about that. Maybe you've got a taste for a particular food you want to have again before it's gone bad forever? I can take care of that too. I'm not magic, but I do try to help folks, and whether it's something necessary for traveling like a compass or a canteen, or it's just something superfluous like a specific style of bandanna, why not try to help put a smile on some faces, eh?"

Another pause came in the broadcast, the sound of some rustling audible as well as the muffled noise of a stealth zipper being drawn.

"If you, or somebody you know, needs something, let me know. I also learned a bit, and if you need someone to teach you about certain topics I've been thinking about offering some services as a tutor. The stuff I've bothered to learn isn't going to help anyone if I get myself killed before I pass it on. I've got survival tips, both in general and for Chernarus that I've collected, and even some esoteric knowledge about some pre-zombie topics that you might want to know about simply for the sake of a laugh. Hell, if I could find the proper way to make them you can bet your ass I'd be carving some decent dice and writing down rules for a tabletop game, but I'm rambling. You folks stay safe now, keep bundled up even if the weather seems like it's warming up, especially at night. If you need something let me know and give me a way to contact you and we'll see what we can do."

"Remember, we're still humans out here."

The transmission hung for a moment in the peace and solitude of wherever the broadcaster had set up his transmission from, a few chirps audible before it cut off again.

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"Hey, I know you, right? Back in Lop? You always so kindly made me shirts!"


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"That was me, yeah." The sound of the man chuckling was audible for a moment before he composed himself. "Good to hear you're still alive. I've got some nice purple gloves that made me think of you when I found them. If you want to hit up a channel with me we'll leapfrog around to a few different frequencies to try to get something private to catch up, or if you need anything. Until then you stay safe."

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:: A mellow voice comes over the frequency ::

"We all should catch up. For old times sake."

"I'll bring the party favors."

:: The transmission ends ::

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The sound of chirping birds filtered in before the man began to speak once more, though his tone seemed a bit less weary as he did. 

"Good to hear you're still alive as well. I'm sure we'll have cause to celebrate soon enough. To anyone out there who doesn't know me though my offer still stands. Scavenging, survival lessons, tutoring in whatever bits of knowledge I may know about and you may need, it's all open for those who want to capitalize on it. Hopefully when spring is in full swing, or perhaps closer to summer, I wish I studied dendrology, I'm going to see about finding some decent ash wood and working on making some bows, either out of full stock wood or, if I can find a decent means of making a strong enough glue, the sort of horn and wood layering you see in some medieval bows. We'll see."

As he spoke the man seemed to be moving through thick brush, bits of it being pushed away or cleared between his words.

"Hopefully soon I'll have the materials to start working on a new batch of leather. It'll be young and may need replacing later, but here's hoping. Regardless though, you folks stay safe, whether I know you or not, and take care of yourselves. Bundle up at night. Eat your greens. All that good stuff."

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The pattering of rain on a metal roof and the sound of cooking on some gas-powered stove could be heard as the transmission cut in, the usual speaker on the channel ever so slightly distracted by what one could assume was going on around him as he spoke.

"Howdy folks. Mason, Mace, Leatherman, Rainbow, whatever you know me as here. Figure I ought to let people know I'm still listening to this channel. I've done a lot of traveling in the past little while but I don't think I've missed any requests. I thought I'd let folks know the offers are still open, and if you need a brief rundown I'm offering my services scavenging or essentially teaching the various things I've picked up, be they tips on how to patch up your clothes, make fleur de sel salt, cooking, food preservation, or just any number of survival tips and tricks. My services as a sort of 'traveling merchant' aren't as active these days, but I often have a few things for trade when I run into people, just look for the orange boonie cap and big backpack."

"With that out of the way, if anyone actually is listening in, I'm curious about what types of knowledge you think might be valuable where we find ourselves now. I know laughably little about vehicles, admittedly, so I value having someone who actually knows their way around an engine block quite highly, but I'm wondering if there are other skill sets beyond some of the obvious things like surgeons, that might be sought after. I do enjoy teaching people what little things I've picked up over the years, but I also do still enjoy learning. If there are gaps in vocational knowledge that people might need filled in I'd like to know about them."

"Well that's just some food for thought to anyone listening in. As always take care of yourselves--" His voice trailed off for just a moment as the sizzling of the meat ceased for a moment only to resume with even more vigor as it was assumedly flipped over onto a new section of whatever he was cooking on. "Bundle up, eat your vegetables, and remember we're all still human. Stay safe out there."

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"I might just turn this into a time of the night when I talk into the radio." The transmission began abruptly with the soft tenor speaking in an even more serene, sleep-addled manner before the sound of rustling and shuffling in whatever area he had taken up residence in for the night over took things.

"I met someone who told me that he was mild-mannered, a man of different skills, someone who sounded like me. Hungry for knowledge, eager to do something that could have a positive impact, and when I offered to go with him to where his friends were waiting he warned me that they might not be as welcoming as him, that I'd be in danger, essentially. It was a humanizing moment that I don't think many people have. Ideological differences, whether they be political, religious, or whatever schism has grown wider with all of this happening, seems to make people look at others by their affiliation. I can understand the appeal of that, and the safety that comes from it. I know there are those who have done things to me that I would not like to repeat and if I saw them interacting jovially with people I would be wary of those people, but I've seen it in such larger scopes these days. People rarely have identities outside of what patch or color or flag, whatever it is they are identified by in the midst of combat to give someone line of sight on them."

His tone was ever so slightly slurred, a combination of his lack of sleep and perhaps something else helping to loosen his tongue a bit.

"I can't begrudge that man the life he lives. Compared to everything else a group of people who are just trying to get by...I can't agree with it as a premise based on my own philosophies, but I know what pressure and hardship can do to people, good people. I often tell people when I end these broadcasts into nothingness, that we're all still human. It's something that I do believe, even if there are some of us who may be a bit more far gone than others. There's a difference between us and the zombies, infected, undead, walkers, whatever you want to call them. When it comes to hordes of them, or packs of wild animals that are just as ravenous and without reason, I've seen men who would loathe one another stand shoulder to shoulder for their own survival. It comes down to the ideologies that they...We, all of us, I suppose, cling to, and the ones that others find distasteful or worthy of some meting of punishment."

"In almost every group I've come across who have had some sort of bad reputation I find myself looking at the individual, at humanizing them, trying to understand the world from their perspective and assume what it is that has made them view it the way they do. It's not always something to talk about when people are running around yelling at one another or getting into fist fights for entertainment, and since ideologies are what seem to clash here I suppose it can be a difficult...Dangerous thing to partake in."

"I'll not forget that person I met. I never learned anything about him or the people he was with beyond some vagaries he shared that I assume were kept nebulous for my own protection. When you look to try to provide for others and make sure they have the simple means of survival, it makes you see things a bit differently, I think. I started these broadcasts firmly in the school of thought that I would try to teach men and women to fish, that what I could offer them in insight and tutelage would be more valuable than some can of food that's only going to go bad in a few months. I'd rather see someone learn and thrive than simply hand them the tools they need and set them out in an uncaring world where they can be mixed up with these dangerous clashes of ideology, where good men and women are drawn beneath bloody banners that can never budge an inch from their doctrines. Ideologies are inflexible, you can be heretical, to create something new from a pre-existing one, but if you change it, it no longer is what it was. You create further schisms where people who detest this new thing, however minor, shout about weakness and the need for tradition only to be rebuffed by those demanding change and progress. Evolve or stagnate. And now no matter how strong the belief there are fewer and they are fighting amongst themselves as well as their enemies."

His rambling came to an abrupt halt as the speaker seemed to realize just how much he had been talking, clearing his throat and letting out a weary chuckle.

"If I'm not careful I think even the abyss will start to yawn. If you listened through all or part of my drug-fueled ravings, well, I can't offer you any heartwarming ending, I'm afraid. Try as I might here, staring up at the sky, I can say there will be a silver lining, I can believe it all I like, but I know it's hollow succor. If you need anything, whether it be scavenging, survival tips, or instruction in the various things I know, do speak up sometime. I look forward to hearing from anyone who might be interested before I stop chewing through batteries and try to find something else constructive to do with my time. Take care of yourselves, bundle up, and remember we're all still human."

Quiet fumbling was audible for just a moment along with a muffled chuckle at the speaker's own clumsiness before the transmission ended.

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The sound of cooking could be heard as the transmission began, the sizzling of meat and the quiet clank of metal on metal as things were moved about before the tenor began to speak.

"I don't understand people who hate this country, and I suppose that's the topic of this little diatribe directed at the abyss. It might not be a widespread sentiment, but it's one I've heard from people who pass through. I can understand patriotism, of course, and being fond of one's home. I miss where I come from as well, but there are those who act as if this country is somehow responsible for the situation that befell it. While I don't agree with the attitude of many of the quite extreme patriots here who hate everyone that isn't a part of the country. I understand they're a minority, and I've met people who truly were patriots that wanted what was best for their people and their home, and I think if the situation were reversed other people would understand that protective desire. I was lucky to both come here and to survive as long as I have, and I can't help but feel thankful to have such a place to live in now. The urban decay of the larger cities is always a somber reminder of what has, but there are times, like now--"

His voice trailed off, the sound of his work on whatever was cooking halted for a moment before he began again.

"You get to see this place without the zombies, without the gunfire. You get to see what people saw who love this place and why they want to defend it, and I understand that. I know there are those who are never going to accept me because I am a 'foreigner' which is fine, but it's the ones who think I somehow hate this place that baffle me. When you come from the country in the United States it is very similar. There are times of quiet in the woods when it feels like the places I grew up and would go out and read in. I'm not even sure what the point of this is, but my travels have left me tired and sore lately."

There was a moment of pensive silence broken only by the clanging of a utensil against one of the cooking vessels to clean it off. The transmission continued, though the speaker seemed at a loss for words, inhaling deeply and continuing only after a few palpable moments of quiet with just the sound of his food cooking away transmitting.

"I think that might be why I'm interested in offering what I know to people, and the offer still stands, though I think there are more important things in the country going on than a single person's ramblings. I'm going to think about some things and enjoy my meal. You folks take care of yourselves, bundle up, don't drink standing water, all that good stuff. We're all still human, so stay safe out there."

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As the transmission began the weariness of the tenor was audible once more in the shifting and noises he made in an attempt to get comfortable, his voice ever so slightly strained as he began to speak through a grunt.

"It is an odd thing to feel as if you're no longer needed. It isn't exactly a pleasant feeling, not for someone who enjoys attempting to help others, but it is not all together unpleasant either. I liken it to a father being scolded by his children that they're old enough to do something on their own. The people I've known and care for are in good hands, and those I've come to meet, well, I offer them nothing they don't already have." His voice trailed off with the sound of shuffling and shifting again before the ruffling of fabrics could be heard being drawn up close to the radio. "The onus I've put on myself ever since I managed to get my feet under me, when I found myself able to survive and thrive as best one can these days is that I should help others do the same. That it's only right that the help I received be passed on, that what I know be handed down to people who might be able to make use of it, but it seems my meager knowledge and skills fill niches that are already better filled these days, and it feels...Relaxing."

"If I'm not needed, if there is no great karmic debt I still need to repay then I can simply live my life. It's a bittersweet thing, but I think, in the end, it's time for me to take a vacation. To those who might have stumbled upon me rambling into nothingness, to the medics out there that I've done my best to assist, to the people I've met on the road and tried to help, I hope I made a difference, however small. I think tomorrow I will leave the last of my excess supplies and see what waits me in the wilderness. Take care of yourselves, survivors. You folks bundle up and, as a good friend used to say on the radio, stick to the trails. This is Mace, the Leatherman, signing off for now. If you ever need help and you see an orange boonie cap and hear a southern drawl, I'll see what I can do."

By the end of his message the voice sounded relieved, as if the burden he had spoken of truly felt lifted from him, his voice fading into a soft chuckle as the transmission ended.

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Due to his faulty radio, every time Dumitru tried to get in contact with the man on the frequency, he was met with silence. Finally finding an usable transmitter, he tried once more:

*broken English, deep east european accent*

Mistar Mason, sir. Mai name iz mister Dumitru. I am...aaahh...bizziness man, like yu. I hav much supplies, good for man. And woman: cigarettes, vodca, some Maria, food, bullets for strigoi. No big guns, only small. For strigoi, not people.

I do not know many people here, but I can help if you help me. You have contacts. I bring the goods. We do bizzness, eh Boss?

Satisfied with himself, Dumitru hefts his pack and picks a direction, radio turned on.

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