Richard was born in Britain, in a rather secluded and typical British Countryside. He spent most of his life in Lincolnshire, never really getting the chance to do some exploring for himself. At college, he studied marketing and business studies, never really finding what he imagined in the learning aspect. With nothing to really document in his area, and with a paycheck with barely enough to pay for living, e scrounged up what money he had and went about travelling abroad. With very little as open as Chernarus was, he decided to go for that initially. He booked a flight to South Zagoria, found himself a tour guide for the area and thought he was going to have a great time documenting the history of the Country, perhaps interviewing locals who could speak english. He stayed in an apartment complex by a city on the coast, knowing it had a name with cyrillic symbols and not much else. Part of him had also come for the tourism aspect. He was fond of the mountains, and found himself wondering what it would be like in the heat of the summer, to backpack across the range and set up camp, soaking up the nature like a dry sponge.
Deckard answers his radio, clearing his throat before speaking.
"Alright, I'll keep that in mind. I did meet some good people though, but the majority are up north. I've since been to the north west airfield, made myself some allies. Surprising when you think about how high priority military-grade weaponry is that you'll still find kind-hearted souls. Thanks for the advice."
He turns off his radio, slipping it into his pocket.
A brief yawn is heard from the start of Deckard's next transmission.
"If any of you are still around, I'm heading west to Balota, then I'm going up north from there. I've tried the east, and I couldn't find a living soul apart from wolves and deer."
He ends his transmission.
Any conversation over the radio after he'd gone to sleep unfortunately wouldn't have been heard by him.
"Honestly, you've given me what I needed already. Hope."
You could hear him eating, some banging heard on what was presumably metal.
"Well, they've found me, they'll get bored and wander off eventually. Thanks though, knowing that there are people still out there gives me a reason to carry on. I'm going to get some shuteye now, the trip from Severograd to Chernogorsk drained me."
His transmission ends. Obviously to avoid being woken up, his radio would no longer be active.
An empty tin can could be heard pinging against a concrete wall before hitting the floor, a deep growl of a British accent audible over the clatter.
"I'm sick and tired of being alone. Could be worse. Could be dead...Someone just pick up the radio..."
Velcro and more shuffling can be heard before the transmission ends.
Hi, I'm a brand-spanking-new person, and you can call me by my forum name, th3haz4rd
my steam name, Muchacho_Man
and if you just don't feel like it, go ahead and call me Harry.
I won't give up too much, but eh, I hope this will do for an introduction. I generally just integrate myself slowly until I fit right in like a jigsaw piece, not like trying to copy and paste myself into the bigger picture.