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Server time: 2018-10-19, 16:46

Cosmo

"Everything beautiful must die."

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683 h 5.56 Collector

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  1. @SheepyMcSheepface & @pijkaCZ I must say it was some of my best stuff last night thank you for your kind words, it means so much to me. (sorry )
  2. Commandant Joseph Fedorov Born: 23rd April 1983 B.P.R"Белозерские волки" Militia 7th May 2018. A man stands next to a corpse tied to post atop a hill. The end of his cigarette glows in the dwindling sunlight, and the smoke becomes obvious in the cold climate. The man’s dark jeans and khaki jacket define him against the evening sky. He begins to search the corpse, finding only a bloodied wallet. He opens it up and pulls out a CDF ID from one of the pouches. “Ha, looks like they got one.” He throws the wallet to a similarly dressed man climbing the hill. “CDF fascist.” “Da Joseph, was this work of our boys?” The man replied as he tossed the wallet back. “Judging by the number of bullets in him and the state of the campsite, I think it’s safe to assume so.” Joseph said giving a half smirk to his comrade. “Come, Olaf, we must rest before the march back to Chernarus tomorrow.” The two men slowly descent the hill sharing Joseph's cigarette and leaving the corpse in peace. Joseph Fedorov or Kombat by his men told them all to have a good feast tonight and to rest for the long march to South Zagoria, many of the men’s motherland. “Tomorrow comrades, tomorrow we will be our test. Tomorrow we make the long march not only for our own liberation but for the future liberation of our children, and their children and so on. Comrades, I urge you to eat well this evening, rest early and be up by sunrise, understood?” A loud, proud “Da!” Was produced in unison. ————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— He’d grown up through the Soviet era and had seen first hand exactly what the new capitalist system had in store. His father, once an honourable soldier of his motherland now a disgraced oppressor of the Chernarussian people, occasionally beaten on the streets and eventually shot dead at an anti-nationalist protest. His mother was a hardworking factory worker building tools, guns and ammunition for the greater good of the motherland, now an unemployed stay at home mother who would eventually die at the hands of the nationalist government after the civil war. For Fedorov, there was no choice but to fight. Fedorov learnt the ins and outs of socialism through what his parents taught him as a child, from the communist manifesto to Ho Chi Minh. Some would say he was brainwashed others would say his parents were trying to preserve the proletariat victory so their child could go on and spread the ideals of the people, and ultimately Joseph ended up believing the later. By the time he graduated school he was already a keen debater, an avid protester and a believer of the ethnic Russian struggle in South Zagoria. Fedorov was now 18 and a member of the Chernarus left-wing party helping campaign against the oppression of ethnic Russians which coincidentally made him a target of hate, death threats and letter bombs. All of this on top of the socialist upbringing forced him further and further to the left. As he saw more murdered ethnic Russians, more burnt houses, and more pro-nationalist propaganda on state radio and television he’d had enough and decided to save what little money he made for a trip to China to learn from the previously oppressed Chinese people. China would be the place Fedorov would learn his most valuable lesson: there is no such thing as a peaceful revolution, and that the proletariat must strike first before there can be any kind of true change. This statement given to him by a veteran of the Long March is ultimately what pushed him to believe in armed rebellion for the greater good of the people. Though the life lesson he had just learnt was great he realised quite quickly he couldn’t afford to get home conventionally. So instead he decided he would travel from China to Vietnam where he would pick up odd jobs on farms or small stores in cities until he could afford the multiple flights home. As he travelled the Asian countryside he learnt more and more about their culture and their fight against oppression, and for freedom. Vietnam is where Fedorov managed to meet a veteran NFL general in the capital city Hanoi and after having a small discussion on what he’d learnt in China and his experiences in South Zagoria and their struggle, general Hoàng Minh Thảo offered to give him a form of guerrilla tactics training both in a command role and an infantry role. Joseph spent 3 months not only in vigorous training but also working in the Việt Quang garage to help save for his eventual trip home. After the training was complete Joseph Fedorov set a plan in motion in his own head that would free the people of Chernarus of all kinds of oppression. The day he arrived, by sheer luck, his plan had already happened by accident. With a civil war looking inevitable he got in touch with his political contacts and managed to get himself a place in a Chedaki militia for the freedom of his people and all those who support the proletariat dictatorship. Fedorov would end up fighting alongside notable figures like Alexander Petrov, Viktor Padella, and Olaf of the Red Wolves. After losing the civil war in 2009, something that truly disappointed Fedorov, Olaf and Joseph made their desperate escape and remained in hiding near the Russian border until the outbreak tore the region apart, fearing their families might be in danger the men gathered their supplies and travelled south in a desperate attempt to find their families, though after reconnecting with old Chedaki contacts they learnt of the horrible truth that had happened to their comrades and their families. The government, NAPA, and COBRA hunted and executed Chedaki forces, and/or their families sometimes publicly. Joseph's mother was among those publicly executed for crimes against the state. She, according to some Chedaki sources had been said to have died shouting “Slava Chedaki!” Now without a family, Joseph decided to stay with the Chedaki contacts he had found, not only because he only had Olaf now, but because it was safer to stay in numbers now. Chedaki sources were full of rumours, white lies, and blatant lies, though something about a safe haven for communists and socialists alike in the mountains seemed pleasant and unbelievable. Almost like their own Mount Olympus, but as time went on and the rumours developed into stories, which turned into first-hand accounts and photographs. Joseph and Olaf became infatuated with the prospect of a socialist stronghold well within distance and before they knew it they had already planned a route and scavenged supplies. They climbed mountains and crossed vast forests before they even saw another sign of human life but eventually, they did. They stumbled upon a BPR patrol and were taken into custody to take precautions, and vigorously questioned about Russia until the two confessed to being Chedaki and had come looking for the “People’s Republic,” the safe haven of socialists and communists alike. After nearly one year of training, Joseph had shown the BPR how useful he could be with smaller groups leading successful raids and ambushes on nearby CDF encampments and strongholds. Joseph Fedorov was promoted to Commander of the ‘Red Guard’ for his 'in the moment' decision to take charge as the previous commander had fallen during battle leaving the militia in disarray. His leadership began to shine and his decision to retreat from the active firefight caused confusion in the enemy ranks as they began to engage one another. Joseph most now infiltrate South Zagoria and destabilise the fascists, and oppressors of the region with his 20 man militia if they survive the march through enemy territory. ————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— 8th May 2017. Two columns of men, unevenly spaced behind each other marched slowly through long grass as they’re bathed in the days first sunlight. The lines would occasionally halt and alter direction. As there footsteps beat across the hillside a distinct crack of a bullet could be heard to their right in the tree line at the edge of the field they marched across. One of the men thudded as he fell. Immediately they all halt and drop below the grass level. “We’ve been ambushed comrades, do not panic keep it together and only engage when you have a clear, certain shot.” Fedorov’s voice seemed almost too calm as if it wasn’t his first ambush. “Just stick to the man in front of you and crawl.” As the unknown enemy fired, the two lines diverged from one another one continued straight as the other turned towards the enemy. Suddenly a hail of machine gun fire comes from the other side of the field in the opposite tree line. The grass was being thrown everywhere and was eventually mixed with blood and body parts as they began to spray into the grass blindly. “Joseph, I think we lost you we’re nearly and the enemy position, we’re about to eng-“ the broadcast is interrupted by wild gunfire before cutting off. Now flanked on both sides the men had nowhere to go but forward, though they had no idea if that was also harbouring the enemy. “Fuck it! Comrades we either let the revolution die here today, or we get on our feet as fucking run for that woods. ON YOUR FEET COMRADES! UUUUUUURAH!” “UUUUUURRRRAHH! UUUUUUUURRRAAAH!” It echoes as the entire militia get to there feet and run.
  3. Jakob Novak April 23rd, 1984 March 23rd, 2013 - 17:58 pm A man sits, restrained to a chair. The only noise in the small grey room is the occasional drop of blood from the man's mouth on to the cold concrete floor. His nose is bleeding, his lips are split, his right eye is swollen. The large metal door opposite the man slowly opens to reveal two soldiers and a formally dressed officer. “Jakob...Novak…Chernarussian ‘journalist’ huh? Nyet, Chernarussian spy.” The officers spoke calmly as he slowly approached the restrained Jakob. “Do you think you and your government are clever huh?...SPEAK!!” The officer spits the words in Jakob's face. “I-I-I’m just a journa-journalist...plea-” Jakob’s weak attempt at speaking is cut short with an AK buttstock to the side of the head. ---------- Jakob Novak is a Chernaruissan (ethnic Russian) born man who lived for the simple things. A cold Kvass, a big dinner, and a nice wife. Some would say he lived for the former slightly too much. He moved down from Krasnostav, from the border to be able to attend one of the best universities in the country - Miroslavl in 2004, aged 20. In his first year he only occasionally got beaten and bruised for being ethnic Russian, but in his second year, he moved into a cheap apartment in the rundown area of Miroslavl where he would stay for the majority of his life until the country was swallowed whole by death and destruction. Though there was a 2 year period of unexplained absence. Here he learned a form of solidarity with the rest of the poor people. They were so impoverished that they had little time to care for ethnic this and ethnic that. All that mattered to them was how to get the next meal - and in some ways, Novak admired that. As Jakob finished his final year in 2007, ages 23 the country was on the verge of civil war which actually provided Jakob Novak with his first professional work as a war correspondent over the duration of the war. State radio and television would weekly, and sometimes daily have updates and reports from Novak as he sat inside CDF compounds and strongholds. It gave him some stories to tell his grandchildren if he ever had any. You’d think the war reporting would propel Novak into a life of fame and riches but due to the economic climate of the country he earned very little, and soon after the war he was all but forgotten. Perhaps remembered by history teachers in the West, but not by his fellow countrymen. In fact, unknown to Novak something was paying attention to him, and his writing something much bigger than himself. Jakob was a semi-professional journalist after the civil war, mainly working as a labourer while writing a few interesting pieces on the side. Often writing about the Russian struggle, and Russia itself. This was until he received an offer he couldn’t refuse which would eventually end up taking 2 years out of his home life in Miroslavl. He was given the opportunity in 2013 to come and report on the unethical operations of the FSB by the Russian government itself - which admittedly should have been the first worrying sign that something wasn’t right. ---------- March 24th, 2013 - 01:36 am A man sits, restrained to a chair. The once wet blood had dried over his face making it irritating to even blink. His mouth was full of blood, which he spat to the floor. The man spoke out in Russian, having no recollection of Chernarussian. “Who-where am I? Hello?” His voice was clearly panicked. “HELLO? Where...what…...who…” the voice falls faint as he racks his brain for memories but finds none. The large metal door slowly opens again, the same men enter this time holding a folder of details. The officer speaks. “Undo our comrades restrains.” He waits for them to do so. “Jakob Novak, you have been misidentified as a foreign spy, we apologise profusely for this mistake but you must understand we cannot reimburse you for your time - ah no compensation as such.” “But...what?” “Comrade, you were beaten until you were unconscious by a few of my agents...you are lucky we found out who you really are eh? We will have a doctor look over you before we decide what to do with you. Excuse the bag.” As he finishes a bag is thrown over Jakob’s head. ---------- Jakob underwent two years of physical and psychological evaluation discovering he had a severe concussion which the Russians took advantage of - rebuilding Jakob’s memories and personality unknowingly to him. When he finally returned to his apartment in 2015 he was a much more reclusive man. Often minding his own business. Now he was alone back where he used to live seeing faces he recognised and letters he received and wrote. Doubt began to creep in but only to the point of questioning himself. He was beginning to live a life where he didn’t actually fully understand who he was. Was he really who they said he was or was he an innocent reporter in some sick twisted Russian game. This perpetual confusion and existential crisis would stay with him the rest of his life and then it happened. The outbreak, the unforeseeable, the stuff of movies and graphic novels. Jakob was caught off guard when the infection hit Miroslavl, he didn’t really believe the reports and rumours circling the city then again who would? A few days into the ‘infection’ Novak, while bringing his shopping home, was tackled through a window on the second story of his apartment stairs by what turned out to be a rabid infected. He managed to land in a pile of trash but smacked his head on the window frame, knocking him unconscious for several hours. Fortunately, the infected died upon impacting the concrete not 2 feet to Jakob’s left. When he woke up he was inside an old mould covered apartment surrounded by people he didn’t know, with a bandage around his head. The fall left him with permanent short-term memory loss. ---------- [Likes] - Kvass. - Journalism. - Any kind of music. - Drugs, especially marijuana. [Dislikes] - Reading, due to his condition. - Smoking cigarettes. - Loud people - Pressure [Traits] - Dilated right Pupil - Speaks to himself. - Severe memory loss. - Feels like his mind is broken. - Struggles between being innocent/a Russian agent. - writes important things he needs to remember on his arms in pen. -----WIP-----
  4. Cosmo

    A little late .. oops

    Enjoy yourself, comrade. You're a fucking awesome dude. I'll miss you, you beautiful gypsy!
  5. @Whitename at the moment leadership of the BPR is split into OREL and Militia. Militia (Lead by me) being the ones who ‘agreed’ to help.
  6. Cosmo

    Anarchy's Summit.

    until

    Well...that was unexpected.
  7. *Fedorov picks up his radio and responds* ”Da, 102.5 comrade.” *He ends his transmission, and switches frequency*
  8. Cosmo

    The Seekers Open Broadcast (Open 75.80MHz)

    *Fedorov would hear the message and reply with quiet curiosity. A deep thick Russian accent would be heard* ”Comrade, where might be this clean area you speak of?” *He would lay his radio on the desk once again and lean back in his chair waiting for a response*
  9. *As Fedorov listens to chatter, he decides to respond* “This is commandant Fedorov of the BPR Volki Militia. Perhaps I was not clear in my first transmission.” ”Comrade, we have a set of trained men at the Republics disposal. If you truly believe what you say seek us out, perhaps we can have a discussion.” *He lays his radio on the desk awaiting a response*
  10. *Joseph Fedorov would take his notebook of transcripts, he flicks through the pages before finding the correct one. He lights a menthol cigarette, grabs his radio, sits at a desk and transmits the following* "Comrades, if it is salvation you look for, you will not find it here. Not alone." "Strength lies in numbers, but freedom lies in unity. Together we fellow Russians need to stay. "I advice you to stay away from the southern areas, head north and perhaps the BPR can help you: Ask for commandant Fedorov." "For too long have we had to cower in fear from these Chernarussian Суки. Stay safe brat'ya." *Fedorov would take one more look of his notes before closing the book and letting go of the PTT. He stands up and stretches before leaving the room.*
  11. Cosmo

    Anarchy Announcement.

    *The deep Russian voice of Joseph Fedorov would come over the frequency* “Da, the Belozersky Volki are at your disposal comrades. As a vessel of the Republic we will attend this meeting for the betterment of our peoples.” *He releases the PTT leaving only static*
  12. Brayces

    • Brayces
    •   

    OhJesus, are you okay? You ever find your cat? How's your mouth? What about all the damn dishes you smashed? 

    1. Cosmo

      Well that explains a lot. Mr Leo is well and healthy, the same cannot be said about my kitchen. I never found the bread knife though, he’s lost in the dark depths of my house.

    2. Brayces

      Brayces

      OhMyGosh. Well, I'm glad you and the cat are okay!

  13. Farmer-BorisRP

    • Farmer-BorisRP
    •   

    sack-of-grain.jpg

    bring it back

    1. Taryn

      Taryn

      I like Cosmo more than GrainSack imho. It suits him better. 

    2. Farmer-BorisRP

      Farmer-BorisRP

      nah his old name is better 

    3. Cosmo

      GrainSack just reminds me of the Bounty Hunters and those were...interesting times.

    4. Farmer-BorisRP

      Farmer-BorisRP

      Bounty hunters was the best group

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