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Server time (UTC): 2019-09-23, 08:13


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  1. Teeky

    Potius Cras

    I "Teeky" agree that while I am playing in the Potius Cras group CP, I waive my right to report anyone for KOS or attempted KOS on me under any circumstances. All kills on my character will be valid so long as my character is in the Potius Cras CP no matter how the character death came about. So long as I am playing a Potius Cras character that is working for / with the organization, or my forum name is on the group CP on the forums, I waive my right to report any KOS or attempted KOS on my character. Signed by -- @Teeky
  2. Lukasz Hyjek is a twenty four year old native Chenaraun, raised in Stary Sobor specifically. His upbringing was rather domicile and collected save the past three years where he got involved with a bunch of ruffians where he dealt and abused drugs of various sorts- and it caught up to him. During a shady deal where someone had tipped the police off, he was apprehended after a brief chase. Whether or not he would describe the outbreak that eventually led to his freedom a blessing or absolute curse is up for debate... but all that is known for sure is that he has been scouring the island looking for lost relatives and friends. His searches have come up short, and resulted in a few grueling months of pain and suffering... but at least he isn't using narcotics anymore.
  3. "Personal Journal, Log #1." There'd be an audible sigh, and some shuffling in the background before the voice spoke up again. "Sergeant Marek Aeltun, 3478392674, Date of birth- December seventeenth, Nineteen Ninety-three. Trapped in an apartment. Bored. Stressed. Figured I'd record my thoughts... this way, I don't look crazy while I'm talking to myself. Though I don't know who I'm recording this for exactly. It's been a week since shit hit the fan and I got trapped in this god awful city. I guess I should talk about that to provide context. Wait, for who? Ah, fuck it." Some inaudible mumbling occurs, before the voice clears up again. "Was apart of a Q.R.F. to help the remaining forces bolster the city of Chernagorsk, though obviously, we didn't do much good. It was a fucked fight from the beginning. Comms and orders were all over the fucking place and no one really had a good grasp on the scale of the situation. We drove in- probably the worst idea that's ever been had, and were met with bodies, everywhere. Lots of shooting, and chaos to boot... Ramirez barked at us in a shaky tone, as he spotted some /citizens/ shambling towards us. I was inside the humvee, and didn't have a clear view- but we all barreled out to set up a perimeter once the fifty was going off. As soon as my boots touched the pavement I just saw a mob of people running at us and getting torn to pieces by the gunner. Almost thought they were random civillians for a second until I remembered the debrief. Uhm..." The man pauses, likely losing his train of thought or wondering where to continue. "Anyway, we ended up getting pushed back into Bravo company, though they were in worse shape than us... and me and Ramirez darted into an adjacent alley just as everyone, er... started getting swarmed. Agh... fuck... I don't remember where I lost 'Rami', but I don't think he made it. I just kept runnin'. Felt like Forrest Gump for a bit- until I got bit. Snagged my goddamn trousers, tripped me up and took a mouthful of my calf." Voices in the background of the recorders voice are heard, speaking Russian in a fast hushed tone. "Fuck, somethin's goin' on... Oughta' wrap this up. Anyway... couldn't out limp the fuckers, so I ducked into an apartment building that wasn't so vacant. Found a woman and a little tyke, turned to my left and got smashed in the face. Woke up a few hours later with a fucked nose- tied up, and at the end of a gun. Some brother, his boy, and his sister holed up in here. And that's where I am now... waiting for the streets to clear up. Gonna' try and fix my radio which got fucked when I fell, and see if I can get coordinates to a good evac site, or link up with remaining forces." The whispering gets louder, and the recorder is likely dropped as a loud thud rings out before the recording ends. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Log number seven... Marek, checking in. Today ain't so good. Guy came up with a fever a day or two ago. Getting bad. Fucker cut himself on a supply run with me earlier that evening... ain't looking too clean. Foods running out, and the guy is getting pissy with me. I'm trying to do what I can, but it ain't much. Marek out." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Log number eight. He's dead. She's a mess. I don't know what to do. All I wanna' record today." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Log number nine. Why the fuck am I still speaking into this stupid thing. I know what I say, why do I need recordings of it? Ugh..." Several minutes go by, filled with a deafening silence and quiet breathing until he finally speaks back up. "We moved north, now that some of the bodies left town... there's a small abandoned village here and we took residence in some old fuckers shack. She still won't speak to me, which ain't saying much because I barely speak a lick of that god awful language... but I don't know what to do. She won't eat, and just yells at me if I push her to. I should try and convince her to follow me to our designated fallback point and rendevous with the others. Maybe find an abandoned transmitter- or them, if we're lucky. Maybe I should just leave the dumb bitch...." The frustrated voice goes silent yet again, and a loud banging is heard- as if a fist was colliding with a table... not once, but thrice. "Marek out." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Log fourteen. It's been a couple months... and I can't find any signs of fortified positions in the area... I think we pulled out. Had to of. Goddammit... She's talking to me more, at least. Which isn't saying much. She does what I tell her to do, and ain't too stupid for a civillian. And the kid we're stuck with is- alright. Not very noisy, which is surprising. Well behaved. She's been teaching me a few words, and it's getting easier to communicate. I don't know why I'm still with them. Guilt maybe? Lonliness or fear? Whatever... better than being alone. Even if it is babysitting." The voice trails off into a few grumbles before resuming. "I don't know where the fuck we are as of now. Cozy place- though a few of dead are roaming about. Getting better at traversing the area without pulling attention. Saw some signs of an evac point, and I'm going to scout it out tomorrow. Marek out." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Log twenty six. She's been awfully touchy lately. Not like- menopause or being bitchy you fucks... but, I don't know. /Close/. It's odd. Don't know how I feel about it. Maybe it's the kid- and a hormonal reaction from being in the place of a mother role--" The voice trails off into stupid theories and hypotheses for a moment, until realizing how stupid he sounds. "-- Regardless.. I've been really... comfortable around her. As weird as it sounds, during the tedious language lessons she tries to give me. She's cute I guess, never really thought about it before... but maybe I'm just lonely, and needy. I shouldn't be thinking about this right now. They need me focused, not starstruck like some high school kid with his first crush." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "We spent the night together. I'm a fucking idiot. Er- log thirty two by the way... Shouldn't of had those drinks... I'm not an emotional person, now she's going to be attached- and... I'm gonna' fall deeper into this relationship. Fuck... I'm going to be distracted by this and endanger them both. I know it. I ain't good with love, never been. Fuck this place. Fuck me. Fuck this goddamn-" A sudden gust of air is blown into the mic of the recorder- and then a loud crash is heard. All goes silent... until footsteps are heard coming closer before the recording ends. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Log fifty nine... I don't record as much as I used too... probably because I'm not as stressed? Egh... well, things are good- I mean... as good as things can be given this, shit. Nataliya' still hasn't lost interest in me, despite me keeping her at arms length. She's sweet, I'm a bit harsh. Though- she can be mean and resourceful when driven enough. I like that about her. She's serious minded, focused. Quieter than me, which is saying something. Hell of a woman. It's been about a year... I'm starting to wonder if I was to hasty to overlook- us... as a thing. Well, I suppose I'll keep the recorder. Don't think I'll be using it anytime soon though. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Log sixty... kid's dead. Fever took him." the quiet monotone voice fades off, and the recording is ended shortly after. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Log- fucking- who gives a fuck. Goddammit- she's gone. I can't fucking find her. 'Nat' isn't where I told them to meet. I've been here three days, searching and then coming back to wait. I'm scared to go searching in case she come back. I'm scared to wait in case they need help. I can't sleep. I should've seen that trap, it's my fault. Dear god- it's my fault. That rigged shotgun... so much noise. She's resourceful. She was only grazed, she'll be okay. How did I lose her in the horde... how'd I let them split us up? Why am I talking to myself, instead of searching- I'm pathetic." The recorder seems to be set down; roughly, and hectic breathing is heard in the background- alongside what sounds like hurried pacing. All goes silent. This recording goes on for quite some time, before ending itself. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Marek... checking in. God- it's been a year since I used this thing... two since this all started. Sick of this shit... sick of people." The voice pauses for a few moments. "This ain't helping anymore... I 'ought to find a dog. Yea... a dog. Marek out."
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