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Server time: 2018-12-16, 18:36


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68 h Campfire Watcher

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  • Last played 1 year ago


About Roofstone

  • Birthday 07/03/1989

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  1. I definitively need to give it up for my man @Amerdan whom I've interacted with the most these few weeks since I've joined. And has given my character a great basis for character growth in the apocalypse.
  2. *Tanya grunts and gasps as she catches her breath, frantically and with a certain sense of panic she digs out her radio from her back and turns it on. Nothing but the sound of nature transmits at first, Tanya carefully listening to her surroundings before she goes down on her knees and grabs her knife. Holding the radio up against a tree she starts tapping with the handle of her knife against it. Carefully and slowly, as to not make any mistakes on the long message.* .-- .- .-. -. .. -. --. .-.-.- / -. --- ...- --- -.. -- .. - .-. --- ...- ... -.- / .... --- ... .--. .. - .- .-.. .-.-.- / ... -. .. .--. . .-. / --- -. / .-. --- --- ..-. .-.-.- / .... --- ... - .. .-.. . .-.-.- *She does this three more times with a few minutes' worth of breaktime to catch her breath inbetween transmissions.*
  3. Met a lot of lovely people today, but these two stand out both as excellent roleplayers, whom I also have to give respect for their patience in dealing with me and my lack of a mic! The biggest props to @Lexii & @knightcrasht
  4. I just wanted to offer my sincerest gratitude to this server. I am mute, so most role play servers outside of the MMO scene instantly blacklist me for not being able to use a microphone. When this server accepted people who can only use text I was excited, but ultimately did not have high hopes for role-playing. But I've not had any issues whatsoever, people have been patient and understanding. I've had both short and long term rp, I've traded with people on the road, I've shared a camp fire, by god I've even been robbed! And I cannot state how much that means to me. So thank you to everyone I have role-played with, and everyone I will role-play with. It has truly been and I imagine will continue to be, a pleasure without equal.
  5. Thanks to @MatthewFC who I met in Severograd and joined me for a scavenging run up north. Saved my butt from the wolves and provided excellent roleplay. And of course patience in dealing with a mute. Looking forward to out next meeting!
  6. My warmest regards to @CaptainTorch , as well as the two others we were with whom I didn't catch the name of (Please pass on my thanks CaptainTorch). I had a very fun trek from the airfield. Exciting, funny, and an excellent social experience. Thanks!
  7. *A loud groan is the first thing that springs to life through the radio, though quickly drowned out by the incessant barking of wolves. A large pack of them. With some haste Tanya starts tapping the butt of her new rifle into the ground next to the radio. A morse signal.* ... --- ... / -.- .- -- . -. ... -.- / -- .. .-.. .. - .- .-. -.-- / .-- --- .-.. ...- . ... *This repeats several times.*
  8. Props to @Amerdan whom I met in the northern airfield, who was very patient to someone who can't use a mic. And skillfully went right into it again after some troubles with his own mic, very immersive and a professional save. Shame that zombie got me in the head. Hope you enjoy the loot.
  9. Thank you to @Gowbe and one other person who I didn't catch the name of who was my first introduction roleplay on this server. And did his best to take care of Tanya as she fell ill. It was a good introduction!
  10. *Another strained groan permeates through the airwaves. Her voice is gravely and rough, the single act of groaning out loud seems to strain her. Perhaps a minute passes as Tanya wonders about how to word her predicament. Eventually the tapping begins again, in two acts this time.* - .- -. -.-- .- / .. .----. -- / ... -.-. .- .-. . -.. *Tanya rubs her forehead and grunts, admitting that took some effort. She starts tapping another message, a longer one this time.* .-- .- - . .-. / ..-. --- .-. / ..-. .-.. .- ... .... -... .- -. --.
  11. *There is a long pause as Tanya considers. Her lack of medical knowledge leaving her more ill than the illness itself as a twinge of fear runs through her stomach. Not knowing what exactly is wrong. Eventually the tapping begins again. Two words this time.* .-- .- - . .-. / ... .- ..-. . - -.--
  12. *A subtle groaning permeates the silence at first as the radio comes alive, Tanya rubs her eyes wearily where she is sat before she begins. To whomever may listen a gentle rhythmic tapping begins. Three 'verses', with a brief pause inbetween.* ... --- ... / -.- .- -... .- -. .. -. --- / ... .. -.-. -.- *This repeats a few times-*
  13. The mute child of immigrant farmers. Tanya Martin, the daughter of a poor Asian American family that moved to Chernarus, lived her young life in peace at a farm in the Shadow of The Black Mountains just a few hours away from the South Zagoria region. A peaceful but boring childhood, Tanya spent most of her time in the garage. Experimenting with her father's tools and whatever components she could scavenge from around the farm or acquire from the closest towns. The young girl working in silence on all sorts of odd things when not helping her father work the fields or exploring the surrounding woods. Her school life a dull and friendless one, with most of her teen years spent on the tinkering, and eventually archery club as well as hiking and hunting with bow and arrow. Growing up on a farm doing much to heighten Tanya's love for nature and her wanderlust. It wasn't until the early twenties that Tanya finally began her own life, finding hire and apprenticeship at a train yard garage in Chernogorsk, tending to the maintenance vehicles and machinery required to maintain a smoothly running transport system. As well as joining the local scouts as an assistant teacher, with biweekly excursions out into the wilds to teach the young how to survive and other useful odds and ends. Two years into her apprenticeship, disaster struck. And the world she and everyone else knew collapsed quicker than anyone could have prepared for. And no amount of train yard maintenance could help. By week two, there was barely a train yard to speak of. It was a graveyard, and in the back, hiding away from the riots was a young woman armed with nothing but an axe and a few day's worth of food and water. How she survived that mess and the following storms, is anybody's guess. On the 22nd, she packed up and left. She's still out there, wandering the land. Everyone she knew dead including herself as far as she is concerned. A masked silent wastelander, trading whatever she can scavenge for food and essentials. She comes and goes with the wind, always looking for something. Although nobody knows what, or who, or why. She never tells.