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  1. The petrichor of the rain following a dry spell is one of the only things that reminds me of what this place meant to me growing up. Late summer nights on the streets with friends that seemed endless, the smell of campfire smoke lingering, reminds me of when all of my aunts and uncles, cousins, would gather by the torch pit in the back of the inn. All of these vivid memories I have are euphoric, even without any meaning... they all seem so detatched from the path I took, and what my life is today. I guess It's a reminder of what could've went right.. but moreso what went wrong? The last time I saw my dad was the summer of '17. Me and my dad were working as loggers after getting out of prison. Much of my family had disappeared. Whether they had fled, died, or handed themselves in was beyond us. The world was closing in on us faster than we could gather ourselves, and we were in the middle of the proving grounds. The foresters came looking for any able-bodied man to answer the call to arms, ... us being all loggers, we were all able bodied. My dad and I had been stuck like glue on glue my whole life, through everything. We were in prison together, we stood up for eachother, we were a unit. I will never forget that day that he told me to go while I still could. "Don't look back, nothing from here-on in will ever be the same." He told me. I asked him what of him. As if I could've even done anything about it. My dad had always told me about the Stag, and what it means to this country. More so, what it means to be apart of this country. To be a partisan. How the Stag is a symbol of integrity and self-sustainability, independence; to live by one's own means. It was nothing more than a symbol to most, not like the state of decay gave it any meaning anyway. Atleast, not what it originally meant. I was not born in the "golden age" like my father was, during the Revolution. I myself have never been much for nationalism or politics either. Considering my family's involvement in the revolution, I suppose I had no choice but to walk the hard road. The partisan's road. A road I only truly knew after I parted ways from my father, the last one to fall, never to see him or my family again. It seemed like everything we had fought for when I was young was for nothing. It almost makes me wish I was born into the ignorant, modernist society. Be like the rest of the metrosexuals and histrionics that don't give a second thought into any of the conditions of both themselves, and other citizens. Don't care about the temporariness of everything that is just and good, and just how susceptible it is to rot into the immoral. But I guess nobody could've seen what came of this. Maybe if I had not faced the adversities my family had, I wouldn't of survived to stand alone. Then again, I don't know if it did them much good either. The undermining and pestilence for our pasts, mindless politicians and lawyers with no sense of history, mistaking our actions for crimes. If I had known that these "crimes" follow bloodlines, I would've stayed in Estonia. But there was a calling, like an epiphany of a new age that I had to be apart of, whether to be a legend or a martyr. And so I walk this lonely road of the last of my kind, the partisan, waiting for the day of judgement.
  2. IGN: Dahl Proctor Country: Canada Language skills: Fluent in English DayZ Mod Experience: None DayZ Standalone Experience: Roughly 300 hours of experience, mainly on DayZRP and DUG. Roleplaying Experience: 10-ish years of experience in both game RPs and text RPs. Hosted my own roleplays in the past. What kind of In Game role best describes you: Under-the-radar, no drama no bullshit, prefer to work alone. I like doing tasks that involve exploring or trekking such as recon / scouting, being a messenger, and fetching / delivering things. While I don't like high-priority roles I have no trouble with hostile / PvP oriented roles. Have you been in any clan/group previously: Have been rolling as a lone wolf since day 1. Prefer it that way, but I'm looking to change that. Additional notes: While I've wandered DayZRP as a recluse and more of an onlooker I've been looking to get more involved in the community and put my mark down somewhere. Best way to contact you: Discord, Trooper #1005 Backstory: See active character.
  3. Dahl Proctor is a former Search and Rescue tech with the Canadian Air Force. Joining the air force at a young age after working as a wildland firefighter, he went through rigorous training with both the Canadian Army and elements of the US Military to become a pararescue unit. After 2 tours to Afghanistan during 2006 and 2007, he was deployed to Chernarus in 2009 during the height of the civil war with a humanitarian contingency of the Canadian Armed Forces, where he was apart of a UN operation in recovering mass graves and identifying victims of genocide by the Chedaki. Dahl remained stationed in Chernarus with NATO forces following the war until being deployed subsequently to Takistan, again apart of a humanitarian contingency with the CDF's peacekeeping mission. He and his squadron were assigned for humanitarian logisticals, delivering supplies and aid to villages affected by the conflict as well as manning field hospitals. Dallas' division returned back to Canada close to the conclusion of NATO's mission to Takistan, where he spent a few years re-adapting to civilian life, choosing to work with the Canadian Coast Guard in search and rescue in his home province. During his interperiod as a civilian, Dahl developed mid-stage laryngeal cancer. Following months of treatment and a short remission, he developed laryngeal cancer yet again, which ended in him having part of his larynx removed due to the extensive damage and minimal chance of recovery through further treatment, hindering his ability to speak properly. The next 2 years of his life would be put on hold as Dallas went through physiotherapy. During this period he also learned American sign language. Dahl was honorarily discharged from the Canadian Army, being promoted to Master Corporal during his treatment for his endeavors in Takistan and Chernarus. It wasn't long before the CAF would be re-deployed to Chernarus along with US Forces, with World War 3 being on the brink, Canada deployed all of it's reservists to assist their Southern ally. Continuing his efforts in Search and Rescue and humanitarian efforts back home, he decided to return to Chernarus amidst the crisis under the ICRC. Now a civilian in Chernarus, Dahl was treading grounds he once tread as a soldier. And with a quickly waning situation in South Zagoria, he found himself filling mass graves in the same places he unearthed them. When all hope was lost, Dallas was left stranded in South Zagoria. While his initial intentions were to try to help civilians left in the fallout of the infection, his good morale has diminished as the days go by. Overwhelmed by trust issues and becoming increasingly reclusive due to events and encounters during his time in Chernarus, Dahl lives a nomadic lifestyle and generally steers away from other people unless he has some sort of business with them. Because of this, he's picked up being a courier and informateur for people in and outside of South Zagoria. He frequently travels between South Zagoria and Novigrad delivering medicine, food, and ammo.
  4. He holds down the PTT. The crunching sound of gravel between his feet is heard starkly over his voice as he walks. Still whispering, his voice is hoarser this time. "If you're still on this channel, I'll be cycling through channels as much as I can until I find the frequency you're on." (Discord: Trooper #1005) He releases the PTT button, continuing to walk while also now cycling through frequencies, waiting in 30 second intervals on each frequency.
  5. Sorting through his ruck sitting against a window-sill in the middle of the night, the faint sizzling of food in his camping stove next to him, he's spent the past few minutes flicking through channels on his transceiver. He stops on a channel. He clears his throat, takes a deep breath in and out, and holds down the PTT button. Speaking with a soft, toneless whisper, his voice is almost indifferentiated from background static, making it easy to miss. "... Uh, good evening, whoever is out there, and happens to hear this." He pauses for a moment, somewhat disturbed by the sound of his "speaking voice", something he hasn't used in a while. "If anyone needs a courier of the sorts, get back to me on this channel." He releases the PTT button, sighing and resting his head back against the wall, setting the transceiver down beside him.
  6. **Konrad's radio sat next to him as he sharpened his buck knife. He sighs, and picks up his radio, pressing down the PTT.** **He speaks in fluent Chernarussian Tongue, but has a subtle English accent.** "Americans and Westerners aren't people I'd be afraid of in South Zagoria. There's other types of people who have worse intentions.. and they didn't come from overseas, they're right next door. Chernaruski or American, doesn't establish who is good and bad in these parts." **He releases the PTT button and sets his radio down, sitting back infront of his campfire.**
  7. Early Roots Born in Novodmitrovsk to the consecutively late Alena Justýna, and his father Conway Čeněk, a Cherno-Canadian originally from Yellowknife, Canada, Konrád's wicked life would have shared no grace for him from day one. His mother died immediately after birth due to complications, leaving him to his withdrawn and over-principled father, as well as his mother's extended family of primarily mobsters, thugs, and more-so, ultra-nationalist corroborators. Being the only child, he was closely guarded by his uncles and aunts. His father worked as a logger further North, and was rarely home. Even when he was, he was not the most fatherly type to K.C, which ultimately left him in the hands of his late mother's family for most of his early life. Much of his mother's side of the family were young, and working class, with not many older peers who were still alive or who had bothered to stay close to the delinquent, troubled family's ties in the Chernarussian mob, as well as their ties with what would later be key figures in the National Party. Thus, he was no stranger to the underwordly antics and extremist ideals his uncles corroborated in. He resided primarily with his uncle Arnošt, who took up the responsibility of being a father figure to him. Being a more discrete, mature member of society, he protected K.C from falling into the same delinquency as the rest of the family by getting him into the hobby of hunting, and outdoorsmanship. Arnošt did his best to steer K.C in the right direction, but still did not shelter him from the hand that would inevitably be dealt due to the hot water his family is in. Arnošt himself was not clean-handed, and was an arms smuggler for what was then the Working Man's Defense Alliance. However due to his family's nationalist ties, he soon became a smuggler for both, something that would ultimately cost him, his family, and K.C, something dearly. Early Years - A New Life K.C had lived a promising life despite the circumstances up to his teen years. He had A grades in his district school, and was an electee for the Chernarussian State University, and was hoping to take a major in geological studies and horticulture, with ambitions to eventually get into forestry, mostly in part due to his time spent in the wilderness and his father's similiar upbringing. His father made strides to be apart of K.C's life, which was heeded by his uncle Arnošt under troubling circumstances. And when K.C's father and the rest of his family became aware that Arnošt had been collaborating with both the ChDKZ and the National Party, the family was now split apart, and was a target to both sides. This prompted K.C and his father unexpectedly moving to Conway's place of origin, the Yukon Territories. Specifically, Yellowknife. More respectively, buttfuck nowhere. It all begun making sense to K.C, which would trouble him for a long time. Arnošt's drive to get him into the outdoors, keeping him closed off from his family, his father's sudden change of heart. Arnošt and his father had both also made it necessary for him to learn English, as well as Canadian history. It was all planned for the inevitable downfall. Starting a new life in Canada, forced to leave his family behind, K.C became immediately estranged from his father. He had dropped all of his ambitions of forestry and majors, due to the flat out scarcity of such in Yellowknife at the time. He resorted to working at a mill, where he became a millwright like his father Conway. Living on his own only knowing that he has to reign over his own life, it would be years before the political brinkmanship of Chernarus would eventually lead to war. The reality of this coming to K.C much sooner than the rest of the world. May 8th, 2008 K.C would be getting ready for work that morning, it was like any regular day. By now he would've been adapted to his life in Canada. While he had frequently recieved letters from his uncle Arnošt, he hadn't recieved anything in the following months. His phone rings. It's his father. "Hello." His father's voice is raspy, as if he has been crying. K.C has never heard his father cry. Even after all that had happened, he never thought he had it in him. "K.C. I know you don't like me calling you, but .. I figured- I figured I needed to let you know." K.C was caught off guard, knowing something was wrong, he put off his usual nonchalant dialogue with his father. "..Dad? What is it?" ".. Arno is uhh... well, Arno is dead.. Everybody back home is.. uhh, well they're in trouble." His father's voice shakes as he struggles to say this. K.C would stare blankly at his wall, sitting on his bedside. While he felt like he should be shocked, he had soaked it in by now that this would've caught up to him in some shape or form eventually, no matter how far he was from it. ".. What happened." His father musters the strength amongst his shock to continue. "Someone murdered him. The police aren't investigating.. apparently everyone back home got into some bad blood with the wrong people. A whole bunch of shit is going on K.C- I, I don't know what to do." His voice strains, becoming angry. "This happened fuckin'-.. 3 months ago. I just got the letter from your uncle Bogdan this morning, I don't even know when he sent it-" "I'm going back. Whether you're coming with me or not." K.C interrupts, calmly, despite being brought to tears in person. His father breathes coarsely over the phone, before letting out a deep sigh. "Do you understand what is going on back home, K.C?" K.C is pensive for a moment. "I've known what's been going on back home for a long time Dad. I know everything Arno told me, the life he tried to pave for me, all of it, was to make it easier for me to get away from this. I know you know that too. I know that you knew this would happen all along. It's just the hand that's been dealt." His father interjects starkly. "Then you know you can't go back. You don't want to get wrapped up in this, you don't have to! Arno did this for you. I did this, for YOU!" "You didn't do anything. You just kept me in the shadows, because it's the only thing you could do." K.C is quick to respond. This time, he struggles to say it out loud. A tear streams down his face. He sighs deeply. "I'm going home. Whether you like it or not. You can't stop me." "K.C just think for a moment, please! - you can't even get-" K.C hangs up the phone. It was time to go back home, was all he thought, regardless of what awaited him there. Instead of putting on his workboots and coveralls, he grabbed his dufflebag - the same bright green, white outlined yellow star bearing bag he had with him on the way to Canada - his passport, and started packing. 8 Years Later. Sitting in a rowhouse in Miroslavl, smoking a cigarette while staring at a mandatory evaluation notice on the table infront of him. Following the outbreak and his return to Chernarus, he was intercepted by the Chernarussian government upon his return to Primorsk 8 years prior. His own family had killed his uncle for corroborating with the ChDKZ, and he had been blackmailed into ceasing to come into contact with his remaining family, whether they were dead or alive. Now on a government watchlist and prevented from leaving the country, K.C had nowhere to go and nothing to lose. He had spent the past 8 years up until the outbreak and the cordon of South Zagoria as a smuggler for contacts within South Zagoria with close ties to his uncle Arnošt, having believed that his family was blackmailed into corroborating with the ChDKZ and ultimately killing his uncle. He operated in and out of South Zagoria. With word of ChDKZ remnants on a head hunt, he had no choice but to abandon the relative safety of the C.R for the uncharted remains of South Zagoria. He now operates as a guide and a navigator for other survivors within South Zagoria, finding a new life to live in the remains of Chernarus much like everyone else, he still aspires to piece together what went wrong all those years, and hopefully seek out who was behind all of it to start.
  8. **Overlooking a clearing, he shakes his head and curses under his breath at the reply. He hesitates for a moment, before pressing the PTT button.** "Got it, stay safe out there." **He releases the PTT button, grabbing his rifle and continuing his hike.**
  9. **Now receeding into the woods, he adjusts his sling to his rifle and grabs his radio again, pressing the PTT button.** "Russians and Muslims, huh. Been through this neck of the woods for a day and shit's already gone awry." **He releases the PTT for a moment, looking back towards Berezino. He looks back up the hill he's heading up and speaks through the radio again.** "Do you need help? I'm no medic, but I have bandages and a blood bag. I'm O+." **He clips the radio back to his pack and keeps hiking it.**
  10. **Watching from the woods outside Berezino with a rangefinder, Konrad grabs his radio from his belt and presses the PTT. There is sporadic gunfire almost immediately in the background of his transmission.** "Any idea what is going on down there, and if it involves the CDF?" **He releases the PTT, and continues to watch the hospital through his rangefinder.**
  11. **Sitting in a hunting stall with a cigarette, Vadim neatly organizes the contents of his tortilla bag, several cans of food sitting neatly organized infront of him. He looks at them silently for a moment before grabbing his radio from his vest, pressing the PTT button.** **He speaks with a raspy voice, with a subtle Chernarussian accent.** "Good evening. If you are still on this channel, I have extra canned goods that I do not need. If you are still in or around Krasnostav, I can drop by and donate them to you." **He releases the PTT and slips the radio back into his vest, pensive as to what he just said silently for a moment, before he goes back to doing inventory.**
  12. Trooper


    Thanks! Hope to encounter you folks eventually.
  13. Trooper


    Appreciate it. Good to know text RP is an option, thanks!
  14. Trooper


    Hey there. Been playing for a little bit now, so far it has been a lonely, isolated experience but that only makes me more stoked to meet you folks ingame, whether it be being robbed by bandits, chased by an axe wielding maniac, any press is good press in my opinion. I'm fairly new to DayZ, and this server has really given me the chance to figure out the game's quirks and mechanics because I haven't been killed on sight. It's nice to have a good head start. Just a question. I can't really use my mic that often because: I don't have a functioning mic (I have one, but it requires me to bluetooth through my phone as my laptop's output hardware isn't working for some reason. Hard to explain but I doubt I'm the only one.) I live in a single bedroom apartment with a roommate. Needless to say, I don't want to be a bother talking all the time. You know how it is. Is there any pet peeve against relatively quiet characters on this server? I understand it is harder to make intentions clear without full dialogue as having clear intentions is absolutely necessary to engage, but I could make it work. Thanks, hope to catch you folks on the flip side.
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