Declan is a Canadian ex-pat who moved to Chernarus for a job after finishing his time in the military. After finishing his first contract with the company he decided to stay in the country to be with his wife and her family, spending his time working as a mechanic. Unfortunately, he lost his wife in the first wave of the frenzied flu. He took some leave from his work but started back just before the third wave. He holed up with the rest of his coworkers as the outbreak ensued, avoiding the various military units to stay safe and work when they could.
"You can learn a a lot about a man when you break his nose."
Deacon was born on a March night in the city of Savannah, Georgia to his parents Alexis Donahue and Deacon Finch. His mother was barely out of high school and his father worked at a saw mill just outside the city.
It didn't take long for his parents already strained relationship to start falling apart. By 2000, Jack was only seeing his father every other weekend. Neither one of Deacon's parents families wanted the issue to end up in court, so they made do.
In 2002, shortly after Deacon turned five, money started becoming a real problem for Alexis. Part of the deal when they reached a custody agreement was Deacon Sr. wouldn't have to pay child support. Now though, Alexis was taking him to court for the last 5 years of child support.
Things got more and more tense, and the next few years saw Deacon in the middle of constant fights and new girlfriends and boyfriends of his parents. None of them were very mean, but Deacon still didn't like them.
When Deacon turned 12, his father was pretty much completely out of his life. He had moved away to a better job, and was now sending regular child support payments. Despite the arguments Deacon would hear over the phone.
In those early years, most of Deacon's fun came from hanging out with his friend Austin. They were in the same grade and always hung out playing video games or hanging out after school. Deacon loved his mom, but he hated the yelling.
High school came around and Deacon's life was pretty much the same, except now with girls and four wheelers. He tried to stay out his moms hair, since she was working two jobs just to be able to keep the house. For some reason though, Deacon loved getting into fights and other sorts of trouble.
Every time he got caught or his mom heard about something he would feel bad, but he needed something. It was the way for him to not lose his mind. Plus, he and Austin always had each others backs, so nothing too terrible could happen.
Junior year Austin's dad got both Austin and Deacon a couple of old motorcycles, so they'd have something else to work on to stay out of trouble. Surprisingly, it worked. The two of them spent the school year working on the bikes in their free time and by the summer, they were riding all the time.
Senior year, Austin ended up disappearing. His dad had gotten arrested for killing two people driving home from the bar drunk. Jack found out he had gone to stay with his uncle, up just outside Atlanta. Jack spent the rest of the school year riding his bike up and down from Atlanta on the weekends he wasn't working part time.
Apparently, Austin's uncle was in an MC up there. He was a hard ass, but he took care of his brothers kid. Jack and Austin spent alot of time hanging out with the club that year.
After graduating, Deacon moved up near Atlanta and got a job as a mechanic with Austin. The owner was in the MC, and had offered them both the job one weekend. The boys loved the idea, and had decided immediately it was what they wanted to do.
tThe next year saw the boys spending more and more time with the MC, playing poker, drinking, and riding. They slowly started seeing more and more of the back end of the club. They'd slowly started putting together the club mostly dealt with running shipments from the docks down in Savannah to Atlanta, where others would pick up the shipments and take them across the South East.
They were pretty much in the club by then, but on April 25, 2018 both of the boys got their cuts. After this, Deacon saw less and less of Austin. Austin's uncle was grooming him a bit, while Austin was riding with the runners picking up shipments from Savannah.
The next year saw Deacon getting involved in more and more violence. The club had given him the riding name "Dusty", for the knuckle dusters he seemed to be using more and more. Austin's uncle noticed Deacon's temper and ability to fight, and took him shooting.
Deacon was a natural, and was quickly made an Enforcer. After that, Deacon spent most of his time going along with the officers on meeting and making sure no one made any trouble at the club. Deacon found himself enjoying his new role more and more.
In early 2019, some of the officers had determined of the newer guys who was just patched in was a rat. Deacon didn't know how, but Austin came and told him. He didn't tell him what to do, Deacon knew there was only one reason they'd be telling him.
Deacon took the rat and a few others out on a made up shipment run along the usual route. He had them stop on one of the usual back roads out in the woods, and walked over to the rat while everyone was chatting. Deacon waved him off his bike.
As soon as the man took his helmet off, the brass connected with the mans jaw. He stumbled back, tipping his bike and falling. Deacon figured the officers would want a message. He picked up the mans bike and dropped it on the mans legs as he laid there, holding his shattered jaw.
The man screamed, and those in the crew that hadn't already taken notice now looked over from their bikes. Deacon was a little sick as he took the piece out of his waistband and looked down at the man. The man was pleading when Deacon ended his life. Deacon leaned down and tore the mans jacket off with his cut. The ride back was quiet.
Not long after that, things changed. The heat had picked up around the Club, and other clubs looking to take control of the running business started taking notice. Some even started trying to take over the running.
Whatever was left of it at least, shipments had virtually stopped by February. Deacon didn't know where the guns were coming from, but Austin seemed to be pretty worried about trying to find a new supplier.
By the time Deacon started paying attention to the new illness that was spreading, it had spread through Europe. That was when the shipments stopped completely, and the other clubs backed off. Figuring there was no business to even steal anymore.
The rest of the year was pretty dark for Deacon. Alot of the Club had gone to take care of family when the infection first hit. Those that still hung around couldn't do much. Business had all but stopped, so most of their days were spent drinking and playing pool and poker.
It was around this time Deacon heard about the passing of his mother to the virus, putting him in a pretty bad place. When the mutation started, the Club road away from the city and stayed out at a members family ranch.
When things finally started getting under control in October, they went back to the club. A lot of the guys who had left to be with family turned back up, but some didn't. Shipments still hadn't started back up, but the guys were hanging out and getting ready to get back in business.
In December, Deacon was playing poker with Austin and a few other guys when Austin took him aside. Austin told him that when things opened back up, he'd have to go overseas to meet with their old suppliers and try to set things back up. He wanted Deacon to go with the crew going with him. Of course, Deacon agreed.
In mid January Deacon found himself in the Chernarus region with Austin and the other guys. They took a couple of weeks to enjoy themselves before seeking out the suppliers. Eventually though, they met with the men they were looking for. Austin was doing all of the talking, and Deacon was pretty impressed. His brother was good.
Deacon and the others agreed to stay around and see just how much work goes into getting the guns, so they can find a fair deal for payment. Their trip ended up lasting longer than expected. Slowly, they realized the flu was spreading again, and too late did they try to get out of the country.
Deacon and the others did their best to stay out of the way of the local military, and spent the next several months working with their new contacts, doing what they could and earning their keep to stay out of the "refugee" camps set up for stranded foreigners.
When the riots started though, and the city was well and abandoned, Deacon got separated. As things got worse and worse, Deacon found himself alone, looting food and anything else he needed, staying out of the quarantine zones and away from the military rounding people up.
Bro honestly some of the guys would get OOC pissed about it when I’d try to get information or talk shit and have some fun. Remember the raid leading to Leads months long hiatus? Some of our dudes are wild.
Anyway, personally I think the situation with RAC has been a bit ridiculous. I play a different time zone but virtually every time I get on they’ve been wiped that day. Banning raiding altogether is a bad idea, but people need to be mindful of the lore and reality for sure. Joe Shmoe and Ricky Dickson on vacation from their jobs as grocery baggers in the states shouldn’t be deciding “fuck it, let’s attack a military checkpoint because guns lol” without a pretty good reason, especially not a week into this when the military is still. Well a military.
All of that being said, if groups feel the situation is out of hand, they can make bad RP, NVFL, GearRP, Etc. reports. I don’t think there’s any flaws in the rules, just peoples mindsets if anything, which has been an issue for as long as I’ve been here at least.
An American voice would come over the frequency, clearly agitated at the end of the day
Are they worthy of helping us? That may be the most arrogant, egotistical thing I've ever heard. I don't know about you, but I'm inclined to take what help I can get. The RAC has done nothing but try to protect me and everyone else I've seen come into their camp peacefully and cooperatively.
I'm sure their may be other perspectives, but before you jump to conclusions, know several men nearly died trying to protect that girl. Maybe if you had been there you could have done something different. But you weren't. And those men were. Those men, who seem ready to die to protect the good people that are left, were there and did what they could.
Show some God damn respect for that; they're better than most of us.
There is a long pause before the man speaks again
I don't have much in the way of a solid lead, but this "Good Doctor" I keep hearing about might know something. He supports the terrorists, and maybe they owe him a favor. Hell, I can't think of why they themselves would want the girl. Maybe they took her to him as payment or a "gift". God that makes me sick. Regardless, I don't know, that's just a theory.
I hope to God you find her though. Best of luck to you if you try, if there's anything I can do to help, find me around the Vybor camp.
The static returns as the man changes frequencies
Some people are born with a calling. A gift that, no matter how much you hate it, you'd be doing a disservice not to use it. Chris, was born to be a surgeon. It wasn't something he ever questioned. He was the only brother to his three older sisters. His mother was a criminal defense lawyer, one of the best in the state. His father was the financial manager for a pretty big investment firm. As the kids grew up, their parents never pushed them. They didn't have to. Their parents had set a bar, and each one had to jump higher over it than the last. His oldest sister went to law school, his middle sister a state representative, and the youngest studied to become a logistics officer for a shipping company.
Everyone tried to outdo the last, and Chris was always pulled to studying medicine. He was accepted to UCLA studying biochemistry, and later accepted into their medschool. He wanted to specialize in psychology until his surgical rotations came around. That was when he knew. The first time he saw a surgeon make a cut. He knew what he would do. And it turned out he was damn good at it. When he graduated medschool he landed a surgical internship in LA. His competitive nature from living with his sisters made him always try to be first. The first one in the OR, the first solo surgery, the first paper published. He spent time on every service, and when his residency was over he had his pick of attending positions. In the end he chose trauma. The quick thinking, the immediate gratification, the opportunity to work on more pieces of the puzzle than other specialties. During his time in fellowship the first wave of the virus hit. He took the opportunity once it had slowed down to travel to Chernarus to help out. That was when the next wave hit. He was working in a refugee center, doing what he could as it slowly ran out of resources. People started leaving, hoping for a chance. In the end, he took some supplies and left too, hoping to continue helping where he could.
Artyom's story is much like that of others born in the Shanghai district of Moscow in the '90s. His earliest memories are with his uncle and his cousin. He spent most of his childhood picking pockets and stealing from vendor stands. He and his cousin had a plan to save all of their money and move out of the Shanghai district. Things went awry one night when they had returned to Artyom's uncles garage home being raided by local police. They had heard stories of youth taken by the police, and tried to run. Artyom was able to get away, but he never saw his cousin again. Being alone on the streets of the Shanghai district was more a death sentence than anything. He ended up taking the money they had saved and leaving. He was kicked off the train in Chernarus when his small amount of money had run out.
Shits definitely stagnated to just gunfights with no story development which is sad to see, hope this breaks sooner rather later.
At this point a lot of what’s going on isn’t even hostile RP, it’s just a bunch of level 20 dnd characters that can never really die, so wheres the real consequences to anything?
This happens. I’ve seen the threads go up before and people talk about the various reasons. At the end of the day though it’s just a lot of factors that go into it, a lot of the time it’s just a bunch of stuff that’s completely unrelated causing people to spend less time in game, which leads to lower pops and less people playing. It just kinda snowballs until it picks back up again. Personally I haven’t even noticed the reduced numbers but eh, haven’t been paying much attention
@Dogmeat (pretty sure), man I had a lot of fun at that situation in Zelenogorsk earlier, even just guarding outside. You and your mate are just fucking hilarious, and shout out to the lass that was there as well. It was some refreshing RP
Had fun running into you guys a couple of times earlier, wish it could have lasted longer to get a feel for you guys and everything but roleplay is gonna go whatever way it goes. Cheers on you guys for bringing a new group around, interested in what it’s going to add to the current dynamic, good luck!
Shout out to everyone that took part in the raid, sorry I missed it. Wasn’t there so I can’t comment on the actual raid much unfortunately, but I hope the roleplay everyone got planning and leading up to it was good! I’m sure it will breed some interesting RP for us as well as we reevaluate how to react and respond internally. Maybe Spore will finally get his way @GaryCash
Some of my favorites moments from the server are when I’ve made characters and just played them until they die, a “permathon” as I’ve heard it called. I’m not going to say every death should be a perma, but it sure as hell can be fun when there’s more risk to holding someone up or being held up than just losing gear and time.
Regardless I do wish we saw more permas, as right now roleplay tends to stagnate as far as hostilities go. I get people grow attached to characters, but if you’re playing a character that is frequently executed (Or executed at all really, but I’m trying to pick my hill)or killed in hostilities it would be good to at least consider a perma, or consider letting dying be a bigger impact roleplay wise. Right now people die and come back completely fine. The bullets can only “just hit your vest” so many times before it becomes a bit excessive and it just becomes pointless
I’m offended (Obligatory /s, don’t apologize lol)
I assume this is along the lines of what Koko is referring to, cowboy boots just have a certain uniqueness you can’t get anywhere else. You just look at them and want to play RDR2 (maybe that’s just me)
Didn't spend much time with you guys but I know it was you who ran into us friendly lumber jacks. Love the page and group idea, I'm sure it makes for some epic RP in game. Hopefully I'll run into you guys some more