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KencoBlaze12

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About KencoBlaze12

  • Birthday 04/18/99
  1. 21th August, 2017 On the Move I woke up today with to the sound of a crackling fire, and the smell of red meat cooking. The men were in high spirits, and why shouldn't they. We'd just had another reunion, we had plenty of food and water; life was good, relative to recent turmoil. The OC was busy in his tent, planning with the Sergeants, whilst I got up and sat at the fire with the guys. Half an hour into our breakfast, the OC came over and gave us our orders. * Spartan 1 section would scout local abandoned villages for supplies, with a focus on attempting to find a vehicle. * Viking 1 section would patrol the local area, identifying potential ambush sites, unknown dead ground and any weak areas of our perimeter defence. * Command would patrol to the nearby trig point and attempt radio contact with Utes as well as listen out for NATO MIA and CDF radio transmissions/SOS. * Myself and two others, of the Canadian Armed Forces, would make a supply run to Tisy Military base and perform recon on any significant areas of interest along the way. We were also informed of the withdrawal of the Russian military (VDV), from South Zagoria, following building tensions between the Russians, UN peacekeepers and the CDF. The latter of which surprised me, as from my perspective the CDF needed all the firepower and manpower they could muster, given the state of the nation. It took a few hours to get to Tisy, but once we arrived we found the journey was worth every step. Fucking Chernarussian civilians must've looted a convoy bound to resupply us, then stashed it when they realised they couldn't carry it all. Well we took whatever we could carry and made our way back to the FOB. We didn't want to stick around, and not for fear of hostile people, but for what lay waiting in the woods. The howls of wolves rang out, close too, and we left soon after. I hadn't carried a Bergen that heavy in a while, but the pain also gave me a familiar feeling of being back in the UK, at Pirbright, carrying that fucking load all around camp. Boy I don't miss that, but the thought of home gave a warmth I will accept in whatever form it comes. We arrived before nightfall and stored what we found in the tents, but soon after we were on the move again. Spartan 1 had found a couple of abandoned Russian trucks, in working order, but they needed manpower to get them on the road. All of us leaving camp was our mistake. You see, when you have been limited by travel on foot for so long, the promise of a vehicle gets everyone ecstatic. Command wanted the extra range for day patrols, so they were very eager to acquire the vehicles ASAP, and sent everyone. Took us fucking ages to lift those bloody Soviet-Era rust buckets out of the mud, and spirits were high on the way back. Arrival wasn't so good though. We got back and the place had been ransacked. Tents, food, weapons, supplies fucking EVERYTHING. They took fucking EVERYTHING. Sods fucking law that I'm back for a day and our FOB gets turned into a plot of churned mud and enraged soldiers. So here we were, only left with what the lads were carrying and a couple of Soviet trucks. I looked over to John, the OC, as he stared intently at what was our FOB. "White, get your bowman radio out, and tell the Chernogorsk CDF Command that MNBG are headed south for a resupply. Rest of yous, get back on the trucks, looks like we're headed south." He didn't look angry, not even disappointed, instead his face stayed neutral, giving nothing away, as he strode towards the truck. The rest of the guys were a mix of pissed off, exhausted and fed-up. Not John though. No, our OC knew was his next move was, and that gave me hope. Let's hope my next update has some good fuckin' news for once.
  2. Journal of Corporal Kyle Maxwell British Army (RAMC) Combat Medical Technician serving with NATO MNBG in Chernarus 20th August, 2017 A Reunion Today is the first time since the outbreak that I've been able to relax. After weeks of trekking through the wilderness, having been split from my platoon during an attack by the infected, I finally made contact again. Every day at sunrise and sunset, without fail, I would attempt radio contact with my platoon: "This is Corporal Kyle Maxwell, callsign Spartan 1-4, service number 7245018. Requesting Echo Romeo Victor point. I am camped at grid 129026, requesting immediate Echo Romeo Victor point. All contect with ZERO has been lost. Over." I would repeat this distress signal 5 times over an hour, combined with a signal fire. Each day I would wait, staring at that radio in hope of a miracle. As I lay under my make-shift shelter, I knew it was a 'Hail Mary', but it was worth the shot. Today, my luck came through: "Corporal Maxwell, this is Joker Actual, how copy?" Scrambling for the radio, my heart pounding out of my chest, I manage to squeeze the PTT: "Loud and clear Joker Actual, go ahead." "You son of a bitch, we thought you were dead. We're not far, Rendezvous at grid 133018 at 1400 hours. You better haul ass sweet cheeks, Over" - the operator ends the transmission with a chuckle. Smiling at his radio, he responds in a joyful tone. "Roger Joker Actual, I owe you a drink. Out." Sliding the radio into the pouch on my vest, I got to work. The little food and water I have left would suffice for the small trek to the RV, and my kit was mostly ready to go. After collapsing my camp, putting out the signal fire and planning my route, I set off. Bar a few unruly infected, it was an uneventful hour trek. Upon arrival, I met Viking team, headed bu Joker Actual; John Reynolds. "You look like shit Corporal." "Not all of us can be sweet pieces of eye candy like you, 'sweet cheeks'." We both laughed for a while and shared stories, but it wasn't long before we had to be on our way. The area was under Russian quarantine, and after the Russian attacks on NATO members, it was not yet clear whether Article 5 had been triggered. We made quick pace back to the FOB, where I got my best night's sleep in a long time. Just before lights out, John came back for a quick chat. "I know it's been a hard few weeks for you bud, but things haven't been easy here either. We've lost some good guys and not having our combat medic has really been a big hit. What I'm trying to say here is you coming back has been a big morale boost to the guys, so I can't afford you to slack off. When shit hits the fan, we need to up our game, you included, so there's no time to get complacent." "Roger sir, I'll be ready for post" As he left the room, strong posture and commanding walk, I knew this was a man I could follow to the end. And follow him to the end is exactly what I will do.
  3. [VDV] - Vozdushno-Desantnye Voyska Rossii

    A sizeable void had been created with you lads leaving, looking forward to see what you put in its place.
  4. Journal of 1st Sergeant Decosta

    Seems like this'll be a nice story to follow, looking forward to see it develop! Earned the Beanz
  5. Cpl Kyle Maxwell

    Being middle of the road was the story of Kyle's life. Middle of three children, middle of the class from reception to university, middle for sports and middle when it came to looks. He was okay with that though, drawing attention to himself was never part of his personality. School was just a step on the journey for Kyle, and fitting in wasn't his thing, so up until adulthood he was just your average teenager. Hitting 18 was a big step for him, moving to London away from his family to pursue his dream of becoming a paramedic, and finally becoming an independent person who could make his mark of the world. The Army was never his first choice, but after joining the OTC for the cheap booze and laughs, he found the brotherhood addicting. It was this brotherhood which led him to attest, days after leaving university. Kyle fitted into military life to the T. Whilst he might not have been the strongest, the best at drill nor the most adapt infanteer, his teamwork and selflessness quickly made him sucessfull within the RAMC. Training as a combat medic, he was then posted and served two tours with the PWRR during Operation Herrick. Impressing his superiors with his camaraderie and quick thinking in the face of the enemy, he found himself leaving the Afghanistan campaign as a Corporal. After a brief stint training new Combat Medics in Birmingham, he was sent to help in the control of the Ebola virus in Africa, which he attributes to opening his eyes to the plights of civilians with a lack of decent medical care. On return to the UK, he was posted to Catterick Garrison as a member of 2nd Yorkshire Regiment, second battalion. Soon after posting, the battalion were deployed to MNBG-West to help alongside the CDF, a role he found highlighted the severe difference in culture, attitude to soldiering and attitude to women between the NATO men and the locals. At the end of the 6 month deployment the battalion was ordered by HQ CFOR to be on high alert, and a mere 3 days later the battalion was moved to South Zagoria where the world had been flipped upside down. The streets, filled with nothing but bloodied corpses, abandoned vehicles and the stench of decaying flesh in the air, stung on Kyle's nose. Whilst patrolling through the streets, a sudden gunshot was heard. Believing he was under-fire, he immediately ran for cover and got his bearings. A wave of relief washed over him as a friendly called it as his ND, however this soon passed as a living corpse leaped at the soldier who misfired, tearing out his jugular. The ensuing chaos was like nothing he'd seen on the battlefield. At least a dozen of the undead, leaping at unprepared soldiers, wrecked havoc as their comrades looked on in terror, unsure whether to engage the creatures or hold fire, fearing blue-on-blue. It didn't take long for battle-hardened soldiers to flee, yet many were still chased by the indefatigable undead and ripped down. Cpl Maxwell managed to escape with Lt. Smith and a few others, yet most of the men were lost. Those scenes are something Kyle will live with forever, yet the mission must prevail, and the remaining soldiers marched on into the unknown.
  6. Kyle Trent

    I loved my life. Rolling the streets of London in my BMW X5 as a firearms officer was my dream job, and although it took a complete fluke for me to get in, I was in and that’s all I cared about. Everything good has to come to an end though, and for me it was Liza. They say men are cruel, but women are evil, and I should’ve thought of that, but I thought she was different. We had a good thing going; the British guy pulls the Russian ambassador, I should’ve known it was too good to be true. One night I turn on the TV, and there it is, ‘Cop sexually assaults Russian Ambassador’. That bitch. That fucking whore. She pulled down my entire reality, using me as a cheap pawn in a political game. I lost my job, my family disowned me and the CPS even tried to prosecute me for it. It was miles down shit creek and I needed an out. ******************* At least they granted bail. My ‘long-standing reputation as an officer’ was ‘proof’ of my ‘faith in the judicial system’ was the reason given. Sorry guys, but I now Kyle vs Russian Government isn’t gonna fly my way. I’d heard of an old school friend, Lewis, who’d left his old life behind and started over in some cabin south of Russia; ‘Chernarus’. Poetic I guess, to escape to the only place they’d never look. So I bought a yacht with all the money I had saved, sailed to France and drove from there. Hard to track when you’re not taking public transport, I guess. The road was hard, the little money I had left barely got me to Lewis’s alive, but he greeted me with a hot meal and soft bed, for which I was grateful. He helped me build my own place a couple miles from him, which took a few months but we managed. Fuck off was there any chance I was asking for help from the locals, bloody Russians. ******************* Turns out, not all the locals are Russians! I was in Berezino buying some food supplies when I came across this stunning Czech girl. We got chatting, but were cut off by what looked like her boyfriend. Did that stop me? Fuck no; who do you think I am? Letting a Russian get in my way, pfft. I came back to that market every day for 2 weeks; I just couldn’t let her go. One night and I go and bloody well knock her up, nice job Kyle! For the record Zuzana, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for shit to go down the way it did. I don’t think sorry cut it for her dad though, and when he found out shit hit the fan. Him and his gang of bloody locals come storming to my cabin, armed to the bloody teeth, smashing on my door, shouting in languages I didn’t know. I thought I would die that night, but for the second time in my life, Lewis saved me. I remember scrambling through my drawers, searching for the one thing that could save me, a radio. I felt relief wash over me as I found it, frantically pressing the PTT and hoping he would answer. Around 30 seconds later, which felt like an eternity with an angry mob at my door, he answered. Minutes later he was speeding towards my cabin in his old sedan, whilst I was stuck, worrying that each smash on my door would finally blow through. As I sat there in my loft, clutching my shotgun and trying to calm myself, I heard a slam, followed by a car horn. I look down and see Lewis’s sedan amongst the limp bodies of the mob which he had just driven through. Without a second though, I jumped down and threw myself into the car. Safe, finally. ******************* Living was Lewis was nice, the guy built his house well and even in the winter it was warm. I didn’t like sponging off him, so I did my best to hunt, cook and keep the place in good nick. The day I met the infection was just like any other day. Lewis went to flog some of his wares in Gorka, so I went out on a hunt. It was a few hours into the hunt when I found someone, crouched down over an animal, miles from the nearest village. I watched them from a hundred metres or so away through my binoculars, trying to figure out if they were hurt, armed or in need of assistance. I couldn’t decipher much from where I was, so I climbed out of my hunting stand and walked over. I called out, “Hey, you there! Urm…Privet? You hear me dude?”. It turned to look at me. Immediately I notice the ripped clothes and the missing fingers, with blood dripping from every orifice. The smell, like a rotting corpse only more pungent, made me take a step back and stop. For a moment, our gazes locked: then it made its move. It lunged for me, catching me off guard and grabbing and ankle. I fell backwards, and it quickly climbed on top of me as I beat it away with the butt of my rifle. Its saliva, a mix of blood and spit, strewn across my face. I manage to reach for my sidearm, but it jams as I go to fire it. In a panic, I pistol whip it across the jaw, giving me enough time to kick it off me and run. As I look back, a mass of the infected were running towards me. I kept running through the woods until I found the nearest house, broke in and barricaded it. “Shit”, I thought, “I need to find Lewis.”
  7. Dave Johnson

    Dave Johnson. Dave was always top of the school at everything. He was a great sportsman, outstanding public speaker and an extremely intelligent man, and this led him through medical school, countless trophies as captain of the university rugby team and generally a great life. A self-made man, he excelled as a surgeon on MERT teams in the RAF, and was a veteran of both the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. He left after 8 years’ service, but the wars took their toll on Dave, and the pressures of always being expected to perform the best led to him breaking down in early 2012. He denounced his medical career, his wife, his kids (2 boys) and crucially his Hippocratic oath. No longer was he bound to ’do no harm’, and this combined with intense mental health issues turned him from the outgoing, strong, determined and loving man he was to the cruel, withdrawn and selfish man he is today. He no longer sees himself as a man to help others; he now believes he is better than everyone, and moved to the Chernarussian forests in order to not have to deal with ‘The Primitive’ (what he calls other people). Earning the right to be in his presence is one few hold. The apocalyptic, dark world of today is the perfect, or the worst, place for Dave. Depends which side of evil you’re on I guess. He is currently unsure about the other newly formed groups, but all he knows is anyone on his land is a severe enemy.
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