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CC.Craft

Adventures of Tarkov [RP thread]

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CC.Craft

Welcome to the Adventures of Tarkov Roleplay Thread

Before we get into this I would like to point out the rules I've come up with for this thread
As well as remind everyone that Forum Rules still applies.
__________________________________________________________

Rules of the Roleplaying Thread;

  • No one shall make another user's character take extensive action
  • No one shall Injure, kill or put another user's character in a bad situation resulting in injury of any kind
  • No insults, vulgar language or offensive behavior will be tolerated (stay in accordance to the Forum rules)
  • Feel free to tag a fellow friend if he gave you his consent
  • Stay within the scope of Tarkov (Events that lead you there, What happened to you in Tarkov, etc)
  • Any debate about religion, politics or other sensitive subject will NOT be tolerated
  • Follow the Flow of the posts, don't make drastic changes in setting unless talking about past adventures
  • Any NON-RP must be clearly indicated with [NoRP] at the front and [/NoRp] at the end. and clearly delimited from the actual RP post itself.
  • Anyone is welcomed to join into the ongoing RP, just follow the rules :)

 

Tagging potential RP lovers :)

@ArmaSwiss @Blackb1rd @Natalino @pnee @TrippyBryce 

(I apologize for the lengthy read through :P )

Let's begin....[RP below]

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The gleaming light of sun down is reflected by countless broken windows. Distant gunfights can be heard along with the faint sounds of mortar shells hitting the ground in a thunder of explosions. Dense black clouds of smoke are rolling on the streets coming from the north east. Remnants of military trucks and UN peacekeeper's Humvee litters the area. Multiple buildings have markings on them, spray painted BEAR claws here. USEC flags there. Nothing has been spared, the only common and recurring theme here is destruction. 

Down south of the main road lies an old abandoned Factory complex. The building towers over the surrounding area like a dead giant. Holes covering it's roof, blasted doors and walls bearing the damage of high-caliber ballistics. The giant building itself is surrounded by a vast deserted parking lot. The whole area spanning over 1 kilometer. Echoing from deep within the structure, the sound of gunfire can be heard. By the multiple interstices muzzle flash can be seen. The firefight is constant, almost lighting the area inside as the sun sets down to the west. The bullet cracking on the walls and metal sheets within the compound is almost deafening. The constant discharge of firearms seems unending...Until suddenly...

Inside the building the tall 6'5" USEC is pinned down by a barrage of gunfire. Behind his makeshift cover made of a tipped over forklift the man is clearly in battle trance. His movement are meticulously calculated, like repeating a dance he's practiced all his life. His movements are quick, precise and filled with deadly intentions. Bullets are cracking around him. There's no way to know the amount of OPFOR in the hellish chaos that surrounds him. With no way to communicate for backup...
 

*Sigh*
"Those useless engineers...Can't take out a simple Comms Jammer in sector 21-B"

The man turns right in a quick graceful yet deadly motion. Three muzzle flashes. The three bullets hits directly center mass. Another dead scav. As the man gets back into cover a bullet hits the front of his weapon. There goes his M4A1. The barrel bores a massive dent about mid way into the KAC RIS handguard. He quickly take off the weapon from his sling and switches to his secondary. Pulling the bolt he makes sure the ammunition is in the chamber. 7.62x54mmR glimpsed for a split second in the chamber. Only left with a SV-98 with high-powered optics, the USEC is in deep water. The gun fight keeps on going. Multiple weapons are fired across the Factory building. The constant discharge of firearms seems unending...Until suddenly...

*Clik Clik...Clik*

Out of ammunition. This is the end. The USEC lays down his weapons in front of him. Empty magazines littered at his feet. MP-443 "Gracht", SV-98 and a beaten up M4A1 to his left. In a last moment of crazed mindset, the man stands up and walks directly out of cover. His arms extended and hands forming imaginary pistols. He fully expect a barrage of bullets to meet him at any seconds now...It doesn't come. He was prepared to meet his end like warriors of ancestor's time. But not this...nothing...not a single sound. He cracks into uncontrolled laughter.

"Hahaha, Haha hahaha. Aww Fate! DEAR FATE! you bless me again...NOW WHAT?!"
Under his breath;
"I bet my freedom stick that BEARs are around laughing at me right now..."

The silence is becoming heavy. After a gun fight that lasted just shy of two hours, the seemed unreal. From the other side of the Factory echoes a scream;

"Возвращайся домой, USEC!" 

The USEC goes forth, and in a friendly way waves his hands above his head. Approaching a metal barrel, he flicks his Zibbo into it, lighting a fire while he pulls a makeshift chair made of a half broken crate. He grabs his Camel Tri-Zip backpack and pulls out food. He then picks out a pack of Marlboro's and light the Cancer Stick in the Barrel fire. He keeps those for truly messed up events. Like this one.

*In between two puffs*
"Why there! Don't be shy my Russkie friends or whoever you are!! I know you're out of ammo too. And since I'm hungry and tired, let's just share a meal and get to know each other! HEAR THAT!!??! CEASE FIRE! LET'S EAT...And talk...just leave those weapons back where you are. But bring some of that Tushonka! I'm quite fond of it!"

"By the way...I'm Jesse. But you can call me Craft...as for where I got the name from...that'll will be a good story, if you'll join me!"

Craft, the crazed USEC then sits in silence, waiting either for death or for company....

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CC.Craft

The tall USEC was sitting in the growing flames of the barrel, laid back. You could have sworn this man was sitting in his living room. In a quick movement he flicked his cigarette butt to the side and proceeded to explore the content of his backpack down in front of him. Going from pocket to pocket, he seems in a witch hunt for something clearly important.

*Klunk Klank Klank* 
The sound of an AK74 bouncing on the ground.

Craft stopped searching his Tri-Zip more by instinct then by precaution. He lifted an eyebrow as he looked into the dark corner of the Factory. His vision adapting to the dark to reveal a BEAR operator walking forward and ultimately taking a seat directly in front of him. 

"Very little pause in this hell"

The USEC paid no mind. He has been in hell too long to care for it. The comment did bring back some memories of times more peaceful. Years before he got pulled into this downward spiral leading to this very moment. Snapping out of it, he continued to search his Camel pack. Refusing to talk by force of habit...After all the last BEAR he actually had a discussion with was back years ago...in a torture chamber. He had to weigh his words...

"You drink like you fight I hope"

The timing couldn't have been more perfect. As the Russian finished his sentence, Craft pulled out his prized possession. A full and unopened bottle of American Honey Whiskey. He cracked the lid and took a lengthy sniff. 

"Awww. You don't know the half of it my....friend"

Craft took the bottle to his lips, and downed not one, but three giant gulp.

"На здоровье!, и, возможно, мы дорожим момент спокойствия" 

He closes the bottle, lays it on the side and then with a swift footwork send it sliding directly at the BEAR...

"Swiss, eh? Alright then....Swissy....How d'you end up here? don't spare the detail, I've got nowhere to be. I'm already home"

Picking up yet another item from his bag. Taking out two simple cans void of any markings, he extends one of the cans towards the Russian...

"Trade? I think it's Squash...but can't be sure until we open it"

Craft then goes silent, waiting for Swiss to engage the conversation...

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Arkann

Pain. There was a throbbing sensation along the entire back end of his body. His head... his spine, his legs, and especially his side. Darkness. His eyes eventually flickered open, revealing a blurry, and disorienting world for him to take in. He felt confusion, and again, pain.... everywhere. Was he dead? Could he move? His left leg twitched slightly, just before he dragged it closer to his body, angling his knee towards the sky. He wasn't dead. He let out a low groggy groan, as he rolled over onto his side, surveying the area around him only to regret the decision as another jolt of pain shot through every fiber of his being. He looked down towards his side, finding a blood stained sploch on his uniform and plate carrier. He cursed at himself mentally, looking to see whatever other injuries he had sustained until retrieving his F.A.K. 

Once he had applied basic knowledge to prevent himself from bleeding out, he took another glance at his environment. He was near a dumpster- there were two other bodies scattering the floor next to him. One being a B.E.A.R. and the other, a Scav. While he didn't recall the Scav, the Bear's presence was enough for him to vaguely recall the events that had unfolded just a few moments prior- or was it hours? How long was he out... No. He didn't have time to think of such a trivial thing. The rafters. He had taken a tumble, most likely along with the BEAR who had put a hole in his side. Thank god it wasn't worse. That was the extent of his bodily harm, a deep graze, and a few bruises... maybe a concussion. 

 

He had removed his sidearm, glancing around the area whilst still partially dazed and confused, not knowing who else was in there with him... friend or foe alike. With every distant gunshot, he jumped instinctively, on edge given the current situation. He limped on, feeling the burn with every step until he swore he heard crackling. A fire? Wait- voices as well. English. Maybe he wasn't as alone as he had previously thought. He trotted onwards, making a bit more noise than he should have, but could anyone really blame him in the current situation? He'd move about the concrete floor, his boots shuffling along the cluttered ground as his right arm held his trusty P226. He'd reach a doorway, death, or a possible friend waiting on the other side. He didn't care.

 

What was on the other side had, however, instead of granting him a friend or immediate doom, surprised him. An individual donning a uniform he clearly recognized as one of his own... and a BEAR. A hostile. His right arm had begun to rise in the confusion, /unless/ there were guns already centered upon him due to his clumsy and loud nature. Should the two simply stare at him, he would raise his sidearm, and center it on the Slavic man, not ready to fire- but attempting to understand the situation as neither appeared to be attacking.

Edited by Teeky
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iGoodLifeNL

After weeks of long walking , almost no sleep, i hoarded true most of the buildings in this street, finding almost nothing left behind.
As i was hoarding i kept hearing voices up in the next building. i kept my silence for quite some time , Until i heard a fellow BEAR in need. "All men eventually die" he said.

As my mind was speaking "Not without a fight," i silently sneaked up. peaked true the key-lock in the door as i saw him smoking his cigarette. "NO WAY ! @ArmaSwiss ? The BEAR who helped me last time when i run out of supply's"  As he helped me survive, i own him basically my life. Desperate i start checking my AK74 mag, "No ammo ? u must be kidding me"  Ah "All men eventually die"

"Breached the door with a solid kick"  i yelled "Руки вверх, или я буду стрелять" raised with my empty AK74, as a scared USEC lowered his weapon "Okay Okay, Easy easy ill put it down" as the  BEAR kept smoking his cigarette. i Smacked the USEC with my butt stock , i said to my fellow BEARS "Ха-ха нет патронов меня друг" as @ArmaSwissstarted laughing you crazy guy. that gonna be a headache when he wakes up.

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