CET 23.00, 08.11.17
Defiled corpses lay strewn across the courtyard of the Green Mountain compound. Tents are unpitched and gear is scattered amongst the smouldering ruins of the trading outpost. The survivors of
Chernarus that have been listening in on the radio on 87.8 are confused and intrigued by a seemingly cheery voice announcing the assumed total destruction of UN. After the radio chatter died down all that is left is a message scribbled on the Green Mountain radio tower.
Greetings,
Times have been hard. The lands we claimed as our very own hunting grounds were suddenly devoid of life. No one visited the derelict ruins of the airfield any more, we roamed the north day after day, scanning for prey. Our motley crew of rouges grew restless and our resources were depleting fast. In our hunger, we were forced into foreign lands, gathering intelligence and looking for patterns in survivor movements. Murdering groups and survivors but always sparing the defenceless and those surrendering. As is our way. Still, even here, rich picking were far in between. We knew of the Village, but the coast is without honour and we never go there.
One day, we spotted a very large group. They were clad in complete black sneaking around the distillery of Bardak&Sons. We followed them south until we reached
Zelenogorsk. They had evaded us, and the trail was cold. The next day as we doused our fires and prepared to hunt again the welcoming sound of gunshots boomed trough the valley.
The source was the compound at Green Mountain, and it was heavily fortified. Finally! A worthy prize!
The ensuing fight was long and hard, defenders seemed to appear out of thin air. At the very end we heard a lurid voice from the forest, «you suck». We never found him.
We will be back. We will roam the old north.