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About LewellynMoss

  • Birthday 01/31/99

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  1. Hearing the reply, Charlie leaps to his feet to grab his radio, and subsequently falls, forgetting his wounded leg "AGHHHH FUCK! Barton grab me that god damned radio!" After receiving the radio, Charlie holds down the PTT and replies "Good...good to hear from you. Unfortunately, it would seem that my leg is worse off than I thought, and I wouldn't want this opportunity going..." Putting on his best posh British accent, he replies "Cold." Normal voiced, he continues "My dear friend Mr. Barton here will be heading down to a town of your choosing and discussing the details some time tonight or tomorrow, at your discretion of course." He hands Mr. Barton the radio and a softer, older more tame voice comes over the radio "As Mr. Summers said, he is in no condition to travel, and we are making camp here so that he may rest. I will head down to the previously discussed location whenever you're ready for this meeting to take place. Let me know when, and I will head off immediately." Setting the radio aside, Mr. Barton awaits for a time and place to be arranged
  2. Charlie finished pulling the arrowhead from his leg and shoulder before grabbing his radio and holding down the PTT "Hey, dearest Mr. Ashford, I will be running late to our meeting that I requested outside of the castle two days ago. Q...quite late it would seem." Charlie snaps his fingers and motions to his wounds, ordering the remaining marked one to patch him up while he spoke "Wouldn't dream of boring you with the details, but we were more or less ambushed by some crazy bow wielding, I shit you not, red skinned psycho in the woods to the North of where I requested the meeting." Grunting in pain as his leg is bandaged by the medic, Charlie groans before continuing "Most of my entourage was killed in the process, and I took an arrow to the leg. Can't put much weight on it at the moment either, so walking would seem to be out of the question for the time being, and I lack the manpower to go fetch a car or carry me the rest of the day. No other option but to give it time I suppose." Changing frequencies to let his people know what transpired, he switches back and continues "Anyways, I see two options here. I can send a good friend of mine over who knows more or less what was to be discussed and more or less knows what to say in my stead, or we can put this whole thing on the back burner for a few days. Up to you I suppose. I await your response." Setting the radio aside, Charlie continues to let the man see to his leg, and examines the dead Red skin across from him, puzzled.
  3. safe zone is a good idea up to a certain point. That point is clearly thrown way the fuck out the window when ghosting out of our little safe space becomes an option that is totally allowed. I think if there is good lore reasons for it to exist, and the rules are tweaked so that nobody gets reported for being "too mean" in the safe zone and nobody can ghost to and from it, I don't have an explicit issue with it.
  4. Safe zone? I'll reserve judgement until I see it in action but it does sound...odd. And prone to accidental rule breaks revolving around the place. As long as there is a sensible lore wise reason for it and it's not somewhere ridiculous like NWAF than I don't see an issue with this.
  5. Hearing the broadcast, Charlie has a puzzled look on his face and reaches for his radio, hesitating a bit "You've gone and killed Sam, have you? Pity, seemed like a decent enough guy. Certainly seemed the type that would be able to best a man of your stature, oh well." Setting the radio aside Charlie mutters to himself a few words before crossing Sam's name off of the 'Wanted Interviewees' list
  6. Charlie Summers

    Charlie was a small town reporter way back in the day. Usually reporting on small misdemeanor crimes, graffiti being sprayed on buildings, missing old people that would be found the next day, some new shitty mall opening, pretty much nothing that would gain him any attention or career boosting traction. He put up with this for a few years before finally snapping internally and decided that if the hard hitting big stories wouldn't come to him, he would have to make some of his own. It started innocently enough of course, a house fire here, a mailbox bomb there, a breaking and entering followed by a savage beating every now and then, really tame stuff. When Charlie would set these events up, he would naturally flee the scene and await some sort of call form the news station telling him to get him and his crew down there to report on it. After about a year of this, and a few escalations, Charlie picked up a knack for being a sort of calm voice in the middle of the chaos he was making. House fire? He would be able to interview the owners outside and get them to speak as calmly as a high schooler that's five bowls deep. Mailbox bond goes off and everyone is panicking? Charlie could go up to one of the residents and get them to give clear and concise answers. This skill naturally got him noticed by bigger news stations and he was able to work his way up the food chain gradually. So much so that he no longer needed to "create" the news, which was a relief. As time went ok, Charlie became the go to man to go and cover disasters due to the aforementioned skills he had. Eventually, he had finally been hired by a nationally recognized news network where he would truly be able to shine, doing what he does best of course. He was able to cover such a variety of tragedies, bombings, shootings, earthquakes, floods, it was beautiful. Eventually Charlie was out there covering wars in the Middle East for months at a time, calmly and politely interviewing soldiers while they were under fire, and it was all going quite well for him. He had a great setup and he was very good at what he did. So naturally, he assumed there was no disaster or war he couldn't cover effectively and calmly talk to those involved. This led to him agreeing to take him and his crew to go and cover the Chernarussian conflict. Little did Charlie know that this would prove to be his hardest and final coverage. I'll spare you the details of the beginning of the outbreak, but I will say that it left Charlie a little...broken. A few months into the outbreak and all that remained of Charlie's crew was himself and the camera man, John. Unfortunately, while Charlie and John were walking through a small town scavenging for food, a pack of infected spotted the pair and began to give chase. Knowing that he couldn't outrun the infected, Charlie began to think of a way out. As the pair ran side by side away from the infected, Charlie may or may not have "accidentally" stuck his foot out in front of Johns, causing him to trip and be ripped into by the infected. Charlie managed to use the time bought to run out of the infecteds sight. This became a trend for Charlie, taking advantage of others to benefit himself. He got quite good at his, often finding survivors and faking friendship with them for weeks only to rob them blind or unbeknownst to them, be sent to their deaths by Charlie. This habit only worsened when Charlie had gotten lost in the woods for over a week, with no food. By the time he had found a town again, he was so very hungry. And people tend to do very scary things when they are hungry and desperate. Charlie found a woman that day in the town, and did what he did best. Speak calmly and persuasively to gain their trust and to coax the person into letting their guard down. She had no food for Charlie, and Charlie NEEDED some food. A man has to eat after all. So, that night when Charlie kindly offered to take first watch while she slept...well let's just say that she never woke up and Charlie didn't have to go another day without food. This became a past time of Charlie's, his favorite past time actually. He became quite good at it. He still prowls the country to this day, still getting up to the same old antics.
  7. Milo Kydd

    At the beginning of the infection, Milo was with his whole family at his uncles wedding in France. The wedding went well enough, but the days following it...not so much. He doesn't remember all of what occurred during these times, but he does remember being in some government run camp, eventually leaving the camp with his family and hitting the road to head towards Eastern Europe. Some small country that his other uncle was doing some sort of job in. Along the road, they met a lot of really cool people, some traveled with them, others parted ways, but they were mostly nice people. Not fully understanding the gravity of the situation around him due to his father, Karl, sheltering him and his brothers for the most part, Milo was actually having a pretty fun time in the beginning. Whenever they would have a new person join their little group heading for Chernarus, it was like getting a new extended family member. Milo's little happy reality was quickly shattered however when a rougue looter had shot his deaf brother Peter while looting through a town. This was the first and far from the last loss that Milo would suffer. The rest of the month that followed that day are kind of a blur for Milo. He remembers everyone being sad, especially his mother Laura. She was never really the same after losing one of her kids. The months that followed that were just as bad, every other day he would lose another member of his family to mean people, or the 'Skin Eaters' as his uncle Leon liked to call the sick people. Milo killed his first skin eater during this time, as one of them had his father pinned against a car and was biting his hand. Milo, in a blurry rage, grabbed the nearest brick on the ground and attacked the skin eater from behind. While it got the skin eater off of his father, it moved its attention to Milo. Milo was then taken to the ground and lost conscousness. He awoke several hours later in the back of the family car. Apparently, his father had lost a finger to the infected and Milo had been bitten too, but oddly enough didn't get sick or turn into skin eaters themselves like many others who were in a similair situation had done before. It was at this time that Milo and his father considered themselves immune to the sickness. A few more months passed, and the first year of the outbreak was out of the way. It was a difficult year to say the least. (Will finish writing at a later date.)
  8. Hearing the broadcast, Hyde pulls the truck over and replies "This place is fucking Limbo. Those that leave are never seen again, most that try and leave can never escape, all the dregs of society occupy the place, and history repeats itself every few months. Similar groups rise, communities prosper and fall, its one never ending cycle of shit here. Hope went out the window a long time ago, at least, for those of us living in the real world and don't have thirty people watching our backs at all times." Resting his head on the steering wheel, Hyde sighs before starting the truck up again, continuing his drive around the north
  9. Hyde rubs the deep bruise around his neck before grabbing his radio and holding the PTT down "Hey Doc do, if you're still in the area I would *Heavy coughing* Ugh...I would really appreciate you checking me out. Long story short I was choked pretty severely and...I keep coughing and wheezing and i'm constantly short of breath. If you could take a look at me or tell me what to do, that would be appreciated." Setting the radio down, the transmission ends
  10. Fishing his radio from his pocket, he holds the radio near his face "I'll keep an eye out. Contact this frequency if I hear anything?" Hyde slips the radio back into his pocket and continues his march north
  11. Tetanko lifts the radio to his mouth but nothing transmits through He spends a good four to five minutes smacking the radio to life before he can finally transmit You are a guest in their lands. The natives of this land have every right to try and maintain order and reclaim it for themselves. You would not understand what it is like to have what is once your own, your peoples property, ripped away from you and claimed by others. You do realize that 'American Freedom' wasn't a concept until your people stole my peoples land, right? Maybe don't make a habit of claiming that which you do not own. Setting the radio aside, Tetanko continues hiking to the north
  12. Sliding the radio to himself from across the floor of the cabin, Hyde lifts it to his face and squeezes the PTT "Understood. What about any, whats the word I am looking for...samples? Maybe bring one or two to a meeting location, examine them, question them, all the formalities. Then, if I like what I see, deal could be reached. Does that sound agreeable to you?" Sliding the radio back away from him, Hyde nods off to sleep slowly
  13. Quite honestly, I get it from a "I am a bandit, I have no morals, I want to pillage and destroy" perspective, but I really wish every bad group wouldn't immediately make it their mission to destroy these places. They are fantastic places that provide tons of rp, group interaction, and help people meet others in character. I'm not saying places like this need immunity or anything, i'm just saying that maybe literally everyone who isn't a hero should think about the slew of OOC positives as well as IC positives that places like that bring before making those edgy, cool, rad, radio posts and start attacking the place every few hours.
  14. Hearing the broadcast, Hyde grabs his radio and begins broadcasting "Tell me, what's the youngest one for sale from your...inventory? I may be interested, regardless of age, give me some examples of the merchandise over the radio, maybe we can set up a meet and greet with the 'helpers' and all that." Setting the radio aside, the transmission cuts
  15. Karl 'Hyde' Kydd

    Le début de la fin It was a perfect day out, a fine breeze blowing, the Eiffel Tower in the distance, and his own brother getting married. With my wife, Cait, and my two kids, Nick and Kevin at my side, I felt at peace. Looking back, it was pure bliss. The thing about happiness, is that you only know that you had it once it’s gone. My little brother Barry and his newly wedded wife, the next morning, ended up flying back stateside to prepare for his “big interview” he had lined up in South Zagoria the following week. I decided to enjoy this little miniature vacation for a week longer with my family. It went well enough, until the sirens starting blaring and the news was filled with alarm and uproar over an outbreak. I only got bits and pieces of information, as the news was all in French. I would have tried to find out more, but in the panic of the military rounding everyone up for quarantine zones, it never happened. I won’t bore and rant on about the details, the stress, the anxiety that came with trying to keep my family together at that time, all that needs to be said can probably be inferred. It wasn’t easy. As the weeks turned to months, and news of country after country falling to, what the Parisian people dubbed, “Mangeurs de peau” or “Skin Eaters”, and the rations in the zones becoming less and less filling, and thievery at an all time high in there, I knew it was time to try and make a move out of there. Couldn’t be any worse than in here, as this place was dying from the inside out, and rumors began to swirl that the Skin Eater’s sickness was spreading to our zone slowly but surely. In the middle of the night, I grabbed my wife and kids, packed the bags, snuck a rifle from the armory, and slipped out mostly undetected. We began marching East, as we couldn’t exactly head West any farther. To this day, I do not know if this was the right choice, or the wrong one. Only time will tell I suppose. We stayed on the roads, finding like minded people along the way, some of them even spoke english which was an absolute godsend at the time. By the time we reached Austria, we had all had a pretty rough go of it, but hadn’t lost anyone yet. Aside from myself, wife, and kids, we had a fine group of people who I would call extended family at this point, or rather, would call them if they still lived. If there’s one thing the end of the world was good for, it was making fast friends with people. La longue route à venir Of course, this bubbly little rag tag makeshift family couldn’t stay happy forever. It would seem that this new world wasn’t one made for keeping those fast friends. Tragedy first struck us when our friend who was with us since Paris, Leon, was mauled by some skin eater while he was checking out a gas station on his own. All we heard was the drop of some shelving from outside, I ran in rifle up, and checked the place out. As I turned my flashlight on, I saw Leon sitting there on the floor, a chunk missing from the side of his neck and the light behind his eyes fading, I put down the bastard that got to him and held his hand as he faded away. Watching someone die like that changes you to your core, make no mistake. I exited, Leon’s glasses in hand, with blood all on my shirt. Words needn’t be said to everyone, they knew what had happened. This put us on a long, long streak of bad luck. This was far from the last time some small tragedy would befall our little family. God do I wish it would have ended there though. A few days later, we had made it near the eastern border of Romania. Sorry sight that country was, all up in flames, the sky was a dreaded color of grey. At this point we had decided that once we made it past Romania, we should head south to South Zagoria. Worst case scenario, we would find a boat and maybe live it up on some island or find someplace that hasn’t been affected yet. Best case, we get all of those things and I find my brother. It was a pipe dream, I know that now, but I think we all just needed...something. Anything to work towards to keep ourselves optimistic and sane. Again, I won’t drag this chapter father with small details. We lost almost everyone on the way through Romania to skin eaters and in the case of my dear son Kevin, looters. Most of the friends we had made that were with us died do to the extreme amount of the sick ones in the country. Whether it be stumbling upon a group of them by accident, a large horde of them passing through us, or a careless mistake of making too much noise, that’s where all but one death came from. My own son Kevin, god rest his soul, was born deaf. He couldn’t hear a damn thing but his mother always said “His lack of hearing made him born with a bigger heart”. Damn if that wasn’t the truth. The boy was as selfless and full of joy as the came and I was honored to know him, even more humbled to be able to call him my own son. He was checking out the backseat of a car when some looter came up behind him about 5 feet away, demanding that he put his hands in the air or die. The boy continued checking the car because he didn’t know a damn thing about what was going on. I could hear the shouting from down the street and started running. I was also there to witness the subsequent gunshot to his back, and saw him hit the ground. I tackled the bastard who did it to the ground and started punching. Punching and punching and punching until my hands felt like they were nearly broken. I crawled over to my son, his whole body trembling. He frantically signed to me over and over again “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die”. I held him tight and yelled for someone to help. No help came. He died in my arms. Kevin was 14 years old, my youngest of my two kids, and in that moment I failed him. Dans le feu A few months passed since I lost my son. All that remained was my son, Nick, my wife, Cait, and this british guy Liam that we had picked up along the way. In the time since I lost Kevin, I had my pinky finger severed by a skin eater when fighting with one that got the better of me, and my wife had broken her arm falling off a rooftop of a diner that we were attempting to loot some crashed helicopter that was on top of it. We were finally approaching South Zagoria. The northern area. It had been a long and troubled road, but I was determined to get us to the coast there. Things almost seemed calm for a moment, we even found some people willing to trade supplies and give us directions. I hope those men are okay to this day. As we made our way down the country in our half broken down car, we were stopped on the road by some men. There was ten of them, fully armed, all toting the same brand in their face. They seemed to be numbered, and refered to one another by number rather than name. Long story short, they showed us some classic Chernarussian hospitality by taking all that we had and beating most of us, save for Nick, senseless. Holding us captive for some “trading” as they called it, my wife must have finally snapped. She was almost over the edge when we lost Kevin, but this must have just done her in. She was ranting and raving at them about them letting us go, berating them, egging them on in some attempt to provoke them. It...it worked. They gunned her down, causing a scuffle that I don’t quite remember. All I know is what my boy told me after it was all said and done. I had stood up in a blind rage and started biting one of the men in the neck repeatedly until he bled out, the others hitting me with their weapons and bats and whatever else they could in an attempt to subdue me but not kill me. I resisted and managed to break free of the rope they had me restrained with and grabbed the nearest branch and started swinging wildly. Eventually getting my hands on a gun, I shot two of the men before someone had a baseball bat, with nails all sticking out of it, and it me directly in the head with it. I awoke to having a bandage over one of my eyes, and being in a great deal of pain. I was in some makeshift cage just a few feet away from my son. I was told that Liam was already sold to some buyer here in the country. I was troubled at the news and was told the events of the night prior by my son. Not too long after, I was brought to the buyers who examined and questioned me vigorously. They demanded a cheaper price for me after examining my eye and discovering that I was “damaged goods”. Apparently that blow to the head had blinded me in my right eye and scarred my face badly. They agreed and before I knew it I was sent to the back of some truck. I asked about my son, and the man with the 6 branded onto his face claimed that, due to my actions the night before, I hadn’t earned the right to be sold to the same owner. This was the last I ever saw of my son. Once again, without going into great detail, I managed to slip away from the back of that truck before reaching my destination. Ever since that night, I have been searching for some sort of clue as to where Liam or Nick have been sent off to. I am, to a lesser extent, keeping my eyes out for my little brother too as this is the country he was in when this whole infection began.