Community Spotlight – 2024 Year In Review
Hello DUG Community!
Our last community spotlight was released in January 2024 so this edition will act as a “catch-up” to get everyone up to speed.
This past March marked DayzUnderground’s 10th Anniversary! Congratulations to the entire DUG community, past & present, on an incredible achievement.
Moving forward, we will aim to release a spotlight every quarter (March, June, September, December) with help from the recently announced DUG Media Team.
The DayzUnderground community has grown & evolved this year, as has the staff team: In June we welcomed Matt to the DUG Mod team before quickly promoting him to an Admin role in August. Later in the month, we welcomed Dill & Shifty to the Mod team as they have been example community members both in & out of the server.
Our community has put together a ton of content over the past year including hundreds of written stories, dozens of DUG videos, a bunch of artwork, and so much more. This year-in-review Community Spotlight for 2024 is jampacked with examples of how talented the DUG community is and we hope this will provide a glimpse into what makes DayzUnderground so special.
Let’s start with some statistics from the past year.
Reddit Stats – (12 Months)
Views: 210k+
Posts: 545+ published
Comments: 1.9k+
New WL Members: 157
Discord Stats
New members: 1.1k+
Total Members: 9.2k+
Server Stats – (12 Months)
Pop Queue Peak: 80 +50 (8-23-2024)
Unique Accounts: 13781
Whitelisted: 1268
First Time: 8865
Total Time Played: 4,2608 days 20 hours 24 minutes
As always, no story is too big or small on DayzUnderground, so get out there & make a name for yourself!
NOTABLE VIDEOS OF 2024
“Marked by PAPA” by Lame Tendencies
Novak is confronted with his destiny and is ultimately marked for doom in this chilling footage of a recent Cult encounter.
Video by Lame Tendencies (Novak)
“Called Home” by trev2000
A carefully put together visual story recounting the transformation of The Golden Peppers faction, moving from well liked farmers to being forced into…more corrupt circumstances…
Video by trev2000
“Death & Dishonor” by DopeBobs
With the tales of wizards roaming around South Zagoria, it started to feel like the magic dust had settled down in the land of Chernarus, but only until this tense encounter in Pusta…
Video by DopeBobs
“Somewhere Only We Know” by Shifty
A beautiful cinematic retelling of the incredible life of Cam and the ghosts of his past…
Video by Shifty
“The Passenger – DUG 10th Anniversary” by The DayzUnderground Community
Back in March of 2024, DayzUnderground turned 10 years old! As the first & oldest running DayZ server the DUG community has seen it all. This DayZ ‘movie’ was a community effort to celebrate and showcase what makes DUG special. This movie features cameos from some old DUG members Smoke, TheRunningManZ, AmishZed, and long-time community member AceWhittles. It’s been a great 10 years, here’s to 10 more!
Video by Legit-POP
“The Highs & Lows of Waldorf” by TorontoDUG
The latest video of Waldorf’s misadventures showcases a large cast of DUG characters & the variety of encounters you can face on the DayzUnderground server…oh and Barry Manilow.
Video by TorontoDUG
“The Overlook Incident” by Sauly
This year Sauly and friends returned to DayzUnderground getting up to no good and causing hilarious chaos throughout Chernarus but especially at The Overlook community camp.
Video by Sauly
“Axels Death” by Axel
Footage of the gruesome torture and murder of Axel at the hands of the notorious Uncle Lester…
Video by Axel
NOTABLE ARTWORK OF 2024
“Tales of The Black Lake Butcher Vol. 1” A DUG Comic by DuckWithLegs
Comic by DuckWithLegs
“Memories” by JamesTheGinger
View Photo Album HERE
Photo Album by JamesTheGinger
“Reclaim The World” By Valdark
Poster by Valdark
“Grand Theft Loyalists” By Joe
Picture by Joe
“The Call” by Jimmy
It’s been… 250 days since I joined ORCC, since the first time I heard that radio transmission and the trip I made all the way to Sinystok to meet them.
One winter came and went, friends and outriders left the tradepost, some others…. Sadly died; the tradepost has suffered so much and has been rebuilt so many other times, but here we remain, ready to continue to serve the travelers who choose to take the journey to us.
The last few days we were making posters and notes to recruit more people, something very simple with a hand-drawn map on the back and various ways to contact us, Forest and Brantley were the most recent to join and it’s been good to have them with us.
It’s funny, once upon a time these same posters drew me to ORCC, hoping everything was going to be better and….Now, I’m the one hanging the posters up.
Animation by Jimmyellow
“Doc’s Journal – Final Entry” By Doc
Note by Doc
CONTENT CREATORS OF 2024
We want to give a special shout-out to our DUG content creators! These community members put themselves out there to show off the DayzUnderground server & helped us draw in tons of new players. Please, check out & follow the channels listed below!
Twitch:
- vadthedad
- aceondug
- OswaldDUG
- SteveStar
- BritishPaulsAdventures
- Legit-POP
- B0nkert0ns
- aDirtybirdy
- SheriffLewis
- Zsoki
- 0x_Greeny
- HiShifty
- MountMikey
- CmdyNja
- trollofduty007
- BS_Dimebag
- Lil Puff
- ItsOpheliaZ
YouTube:
- BritishPaul
- Legit-POP
- DopeBobs
- JackieJackpot
- TorontoDUG
- MountMikey
- Shifty
- AquaFPS
- Ego
- Greeny
- Harry Churches
- B0nkertons
- Zsoki
- Zippy Bojangles
- Heybarmby
- Grease
- Doc
- Poopy
- Aimee
EVENTS OF 2024
A big thanks to our dedicated players for creating in-game events for our community to take part in. Whether an event ends in explosions, chaos, or a victorious ride into the sunset; we appreciate the effort by DUG community members in making these experiences possible. We look forward to what the community comes up with this year!
“FIGHT NIGHT: Round 2” by the Spades Motorcycle Club
“Execution of Cpt. Biscuits” by The Fireflies
Video by Appletummy
“The Continental Grand Opening Party” by Vadim & Continental Staff
Video by KyeStreamsAlot
“LIVE RADIO BROADCAST” by Mick Redfield & The Merry Men
Video by Doc
“Festival of Hati & Skoll (WoS Gladiator Event)” by Runa & The Wolves of Selene
Video by Legit-POP
“The Kingdom’s First Royal Feast and Talent Show” by Cam & The Kingdom
Video by Mr Rooftop
“The Fireflies Aid Delivery” by The Fireflies
“Girls Night” by The Women of DUG
Images by Runa
Video by Legit-POP
“Hunting & Fishing Derby” by The Overlook
- Forsaken Loyalist Convoy
- THE RACE INTO THE STORM by Zagorian Drivers Club
- Polifair – Trade or Treat! by Polis
- THE CLUB WHO STOLE WIPEMAS by Forsaken Loyalists
- The Great Merry Anti-Fashion Show by The Merry Men
- Polifair #2 by Polis
- Festival of Gaia by Wolves of Selene
- The Fireflies Aid Delivery #2
- EVERYTHING MUST GO by The Free City of Turovo
- THUNDER RUN by Forsaken Loyalists
- Polifair #3 by Polis
- DAMN’s Warning to Chernarus (Bombing Event)
- War Boy Wednesdays (On Thursday) by Dark As Midnight
- 2024 Duggie Awards
- Multiple Community Meetings
- and many more community-run events!
NOTABLE STORIES OF 2024
“Corruption” by Will
The Fall Part 2
A continuation of part 1: ’A New Beginning’. Continued in part 3: ‘Closure’.
A related story by Redstar (Asynja78): Starlight III
I knelt and ran my hand across a simple carving on a small maple tree I passed by almost daily. The cuts were still rough and unweathered while the exposed trunk was smooth and already healed. I stared for a moment, considering and wondered how I’d gone this long without noticing. I’d been too caught up in everything around me to see what had been right in front of me for so long. At the thought, my mind drifted back to the events that had driven me into exile.
There’s too much needless death, too much suffering. I’ve tried to stop the downward spiral but failed in every attempt. I could barely keep myself from being pulled in and contributing. I used to believe our humanity would win out in the end. I don’t know exactly when I lost that faith, it’s been ground down slowly over time. We all do H̶͈̹̆I̸͚̎S̶̜̐̊ work. I’d just learned to see it. In people’s eyes. In our words. In our actions. We inflict suffering on ourselves, they need not act, but they must have done something to spur on the suffering, there’s too much to believe otherwise. I dedicated every waking moment to searching for a cure to that disease. An “antitoxin” to the c̸̞̘̃orru̷̜̳͘p̷̠̐́tĩ̸̗o̸̗̟̔̀n.
I’ve searched far and wide, scouring old battlegrounds, abandoned homes, and forgotten graves searching for relics and secrets of the past. I’ve poured over written accounts of the past and recordings of lost voices. I learned many things, perhaps too many, but I never found the answers I wanted. Instead, I found only warnings and omens of events to come. I thought there had to be more out there, a missing piece that would allow me to make sense of it all. I just had to find it. All the while an unnatural silence loomed behind me.
I’ve carried it with me for so long now. It started as an unnerving feeling like silence before a storm, a looming danger. I slowly came to realize what it was, a corruption trying to take hold. A growing pressure on my mind probing for weakness, for cracks to seep into, to spread, to take root. Not long ago I would have thought I was strong enough to fight off something like this. The warnings Redstar left behind in The Archive convinced me otherwise. They gave me time to prepare before the inevitable. When eventually an old wound buried deep and left to fester finally buckled under the growing strain.
I watched my world crumble around me, the truth bleeding through the lies I had invented to comfort myself. Old wounds and buried trauma unearthed as my resolve eroded away. Old grudges, bottled up anger and pain, every flaw a new leaver prying further at the gaps. The cracks widened, the illusion dissolved. I’d found the answers to my questions, but not the ones I wanted. I heard them in the silence echoing up through the rends in my soul, saw them between the cracks. The merest glimpse of the V̶͖̲̗̋̆ö̵̖̰͇̥̞̟́͐̋̑͋͒̊͠͝ị̵̡̡͓͕̬͉̦̯̑̊̊̄̀̐̎̽̕͜͜d̷̦̪͗̀͋̈ a burning brand imprinting indelible truths.
Left alone with my thoughts I would have broken long ago had it not been for Kathryn, who had stubbornly followed me into my exile despite my protests. I was glad for her visits and notes despite my worries and outward objections. She had a way of breaking that looming silence and bringing my mind back to the present and out of that place. I thought if anyone would understand it would be her. Her world had crumbled around her and she’d come out the other side even stronger. Despite what she went through she still saw the good in the world and in people, even the ones who hurt her the most. That’s all it took, simply knowing that I was not alone in this was enough for me to keep holding on. A glimmer of hope contradicting the darkness. I started to look forward to the days ahead instead of dreading them. To live pursuing the good in the world again.
My mind drifted back to the present, eyes focusing again on the carving she’d left for me to find. I hadn’t seen Kathryn since the night Cam returned several weeks ago. I was getting tired. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep fighting in the face of everything I’d seen, everything I’d learned. I knew I couldn’t go back to who I was before. That smallest glimpse of the V̶͖̲̗̋̆ö̵̖̰͇̥̞̟́͐̋̑͋͒̊͠͝ị̵̡̡͓͕̬͉̦̯̑̊̊̄̀̐̎̽̕͜͜d̷̦̪͗̀͋̈ had torn me apart, my mind either unwilling or incapable of accepting the truth it presented, but I had seen it, it was a part of me now. I wanted so badly to go on chasing that glimmer of hope even as a growing part of me screamed that it was a lie. The part that knew the ẗ̶̮͙́̒r̸̥͚̍̾ú̴̻̥̚t̴̫̣͛̑h̶͈̠̓. The part that couldn’t forget was the moment I had seen through the cracks and understood.
Ţ̶͚̗̦̤̫̺́̿͆ͅḩ̸̢͖̼͔̤̝͉̋̎̒͗̐̓͜͠͝͝ȩ̸̠͙̜̺̫̩͍̏̑̏̏̐̓̔́r̴̭͐̉̂̚͘̕e̶̢̱̗̘͚͈̲̰̭̺͌̈́͒̏͛̕̕͜͠ ̶̨̹͇͋̄̒̋͆̀͒̓͗Į̶͕̞͇͋͒͛́͑ś̴̼̯̊͑̓͑͊̿̈̈́͠ ̷̢̢̘̹͚̣͓̱̣̆̀̈́͠͝͠N̸̼̦̏̌̃̔̃̾ò̸̮͕̝̱͔͛ ̴̨̮̩̘̠͚̞͓̀̔̽̆́͆̔̓̀͝H̷̢̙͉̜͕̮͚͇̠̹̓̀̄͂̌͒͘͜͠͠o̵̡͕͔̳̰̥͉͛p̸̪͍͖̖̈́͑è̵̲͈͉̜̠͓͒̈́̂̉.
“Watching” by Harry Churches
People do funny things when they think no one’s watching. They talk to themselves, mumbling under their breath, rehearsing conversations they’ll never have or cursing the ones they did. They count their supplies as if the can of beans in their bag might suddenly multiply or vanish with a blink. They compulsively check over their shoulder, again and again, the paranoia etched into every movement because out here, survival demands it. They fidget with their weapons, double-checking chambers and sharpening blades, not because they need to, but because it gives their hands something to do when their minds won’t stop racing.
But they do terrible things too, the kind of things they think they can get away with. They steal from the weak to their face, but they steal from the strong too, only when their backs are turned, taking the last scraps from trembling hands, leaving empty stomachs and broken spirits in their wake. They lash out in anger and desperation, hurting those who trusted them, because trust is just another casualty of this world. They whisper secrets to shadows, plotting betrayals and violence, convinced their words and actions will dissolve into the void without consequence, since of course, no one’s watching.
But I am. Through a scope at the Overlook, watching the Forsaken Loyalists stop by for a suspicious chat, or through my binoculars at Guglovo, watching the Sheep go about their day. Deals are always being made out here. Alliances, betrayals, all in the name of survival and power. My experience has taught me that not everything needs a reaction, some wrongs right themselves. Sometimes, it’s better to let the world play itself out. Patience is a tool, sometimes even a weapon, sharper than the blade on my hip.
Sometimes, if you wait long enough, when it all becomes too much, they let their true selves slip out ugly, raw, and unguarded. The mask falls away, and what’s left is either the best or the worst of them. Out here, the worst usually wins. I overheard a conversation the other day, voices carried just enough on the wind for me to catch the words. Mike Callahan spoke of plotting to overthrow Alastor Blackthorn. It’s funny how power shifts, how little loyalty truly means. Men like Callahan and Alastor always think they’re the centre of the world. They forget about the people in the shadows, the ones watching, waiting. People like me.
It would not be the first time a betrayal took place at that castle. Chip the old leader of the Rangers met a similar fate. His downfall came not from some grand battle or last stand, but from a knife in the back, wielded by his own. A coup born in the very same halls where Callahan now plots. I remember hearing the rumours back then, whispers of jealousy and ambition, of promises made in secret meetings under the cover of darkness. I can recall sitting with him, during our brief unholy alliance in the Enclave war long ago. His demeanour, his mannerisms, the kind of man he was, nothing of value was lost when he died.
History repeats itself, doesn’t it? Men like Chip, like Alastor, they all play the same game. They build themselves up on the backs of others, use people as pawns, and then act surprised when the knife finds them. I guess we’ll have to see if Callahan can sit at the table too. Groups obsessed with power always betray each other because their loyalty is never to people or ideals, but to their own ambition. When everything revolves around control, trust becomes a temporary currency, exchanged only until the next opportunity arises to climb higher. They devour themselves from the inside, each power play weakening them more and more until all that’s left is a hollow shell of what they once pretended to be.
It’s justice, in its own sick way. Not the kind that gets handed down from a courthouse, but the kind you carve into the world with your own two hands, the kind that comes for everyone, eventually. Of course, Blackthorn aren’t the only ones making plans. News travels fast, even in Chernarus, and word of the Forsaken Loyalists’ latest scheme had reached me within days. Joe and his gang of leather-clad schemers had apparently decided my absence was the perfect opportunity to peddle their opportunistic “trade deal” to the Fireflies. The kind of short-sighted ploy I’d come to expect from them, a thinly veiled attempt to exploit the group’s hopeful mission for their own profit.
It’s strange how people think the absence of a strong hand means weakness as if my departure from the Fireflies is an invitation for the vultures to circle. They can’t comprehend the kind of strength that roots itself in that cause, the kind that doesn’t crumble just because one person isn’t there to steer it. The Fireflies aren’t some rough patchwork of individuals held together by my presence, no, they are a family forged in fire and loss, bound by ideals that will long outlive me, and if Joe thought me leaving would leave them rudderless, he clearly doesn’t know Pete and the others, or what it truly means to believe in something bigger than yourself.
I couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of Pete and the others shutting them down. The Fireflies I raised wouldn’t be swayed by a few bottles of fuel or some lousy second-hand firearms in exchange for turning their backs on everything we stood for. Even now, with me gone, they carried the torch of hope and resilience, unyielding in the face of such manipulation. Joe, or whoever had the idea, should’ve known better. Maybe next time, he’ll think twice before testing the resolve of the group I built.
Joe still owes me that favour too, maybe I’ll call on him when the time is right, he’s cruel and calculating, always looking for an angle, but bound by his word, maybe I can use that. For now, I’ll keep quiet. Let the pieces move on the board, and when the time is right, I’ll decide who deserves to lose the game.
“Reflection – Part 2” by Shifty
It had almost been 3 years to the day I sat around this very same campfire overlooking Brixton and Severograd where I first began to journal my thoughts. A lot had changed in these past 3 years, more than I care to remember at times, but the one thing that had remained dependable and consistent throughout this time was Odyssey and the people within it.
I’ve witnessed the loss of countless good friends and groups over the years, many ran and dispersed into thin air without a trace left behind, others, unfortunately, had fallen victim to the hostile world we now find ourselves in. The Vigil, a group close to my heart, was sadly no longer with us. I had always blamed myself to an extent for the group’s struggles since my departure. The guilt, the regret and the sadness from the actions I took against my fellow leader Winslow still linger over me on a daily basis. I don’t believe many at the time had blamed me for it, but if I could go back to that day I wouldn’t have pulled the trigger. Jordan, who was one of the few to often have the bollocks to be honest with me, was the only person to tell me that day that I was wrong.
I blamed myself for a lot of things. Around a year ago I had bumped into the current leader of the Vigil, Tony, who I managed to whisk away from Bor for a catch up but due to my incompetence, I wasn’t able to keep him safe. Along with Jack and Emerson who at the time were both with Odyssey, we found ourselves ambushed by Dark As Midnight at the Collectives old trading outpost up in Zabolotye. Tony had unselfishly made himself known and was taken away whilst the rest of us remained quietly bunkered inside a house. Tony and Dark As Midnight had somewhat of a mutual relationship, it was more business than pleasure but to no real shock Dark As Midnight had changed their stance and had taken Tony away for their own pleasure now. Tony was found a few weeks later with a huge chunk of flesh missing from his arm, he was in a terrible state and could barely muster a few sentences together. Sadly that was the last I saw of Tony, he has not been seen since.
It was also at the Collectives old outpost where I found myself once again a few months later, I would run into another old member of mine from the Vigil, Jonathan. Jonathan took me to one side and without a single hello or hesitation, he stood up in front of me face to face and admitted to the murder of Daniel, another member of the Vigil. During my time in Bor Daniel was one of my closest friends, no matter what level of shit i found myself in, Daniel would be there ready to fight by my side. This made no sense to me, Jonathan and Daniel were inseparable, they did everything together. Jonathan and I spent a few hours together out in the forest not far from Zabolotye, he sat around a fire with his guitar and explained to me as to why he did it. The amount of hatred and anger within him became evident which appeared to stem from the disappearance of Ted who he was incredibly fond of. Jonathan threatened the life of Emerson who he had put the blame on for Ted’s absence due to her recently calling off a relationship with him. Right there at that moment, I should have put a bullet in his head, but I couldn’t. I still held great guilt towards Winslow, I couldn’t live through it again even if it was the right thing to do, I was no longer with the Vigil, this was their decision to make. I sent Jonathan on his way, I knew we had the manpower to prevent Jonathan from ever getting close to Emerson. His fate would now lie in the hands of somebody else.
I had left behind some great memories in Bor along with some great people but sadly the Vigil many of us once knew was no more. It was a tough decision to move up North, it was challenging at times but a decision I’ve not once lived to regret. The revival of Odyssey was an opportunity I had been given which I couldn’t let pass, each and every one of us had a mutual goal we wanted to achieve and fight for. I had fought many fights side by side with the members of the Dugout throughout the years, both in Bor and in Severograd, I knew that they were capable of holding their own during conflict, even if some doubted them. I had my own personal vendettas, most noticeably Vriska, Thorn, Blake, and Joe. This aligned perfectly with Odyssey’s task ahead, it felt right to be among those who I considered family again.
Vriska, the first victim to this newly reformed and revived version of Odyssey. I’ll be honest, I knew little of Vriska, although I had spent time in his company over the years he would rarely give away too much. One thing I did know about him was that if there was ever any valuable information floating about then Vriska probably already knew about it, and if he didn’t, he’d find a way of getting it. I had very little say in the eventual demise of Vriska, that was all down to Lewis, but I was relieved to see that he had stuck true to his group’s beliefs and feelings towards the man. I felt at ease knowing the man responsible for Rolf’s death was now 6 feet under.
Blake was an old old friend of mine, that was before he became a prominent figure within the Forsaken Loyalists. The Vigil never really had any closure from the stress and chaos that the Loyalists went on to create in Bor, they were never able to enjoy the satisfaction of revenge. I had numerous conversations with Tony, Ted, and the others about Blake and Joe, we all had our individual issues with those boys, Tony especially. He had ideas of luring Blake to his old home, he even got involved in politics to try and turn people on Blake but nothing ever came of it. Joe was also somebody Tony wanted to get his hands on, he deemed an eye for an eye a fair outcome for the Loyalists shooting Winslow a few years back. It was the same mutual feeling we both shared but again, the Vigil came up short.
On the night of New Years Eve, 23, Odyssey were able to get their hands on Blake. Due to numerous voices on our radios cutting in and out, we decided to make a diversion South towards Devil’s Castle where we spotted the Forsaken Loyalists inside of a pub nearby. Gunshots began ringing out and as quickly as it had begun it was over, it was sheer silence again. There were injured bodies of both Loyalists and Odyssey scattered outside and inside the pub as well as a couple of recognisable Merry Men laying there injured which took us by surprise. One person remained conscious, that was Blake. Both Beau and Lewis attempted to talk to Blake but he barely muttered a word, he stuck true to his club and refused to tell us anything. Attempts were made to negotiate with them to stop hunting Alice, a former member of the Loyalists who was now with Odyssey, but it seemed to be going nowhere. The remaining members of Odyssey who were present didn’t have the same level of disliking that I had towards Blake, but I bit my tongue and let them carry on. Joshua, a member of the Merry Men, unexpectedly showed up. He was one of those who didn’t know when to shut up, unfortunately for him he couldn’t bite his tongue, despite being warned by Lewis that this would result in problems for he and his group he continued to try and tell us what business the Merry Men and Loyalists had going on which went against the Loyalists code. As Beau prepared to get Blake out of there in one piece, Blake took a step forward, muttered something under his breath, pulled out a hidden revolver and shot Joshua. Instinctively I raised my gun and shot Blake, along with Rush and Beau. Did the rest of Odyssey feel bad? Yes, their intentions were to let him live, Blake wasn’t a target for Odyssey. Did I feel bad? Absolutely not. Almost fittingly, Blakes death came almost a year to the day since we lost Rolf.
Later that same evening as we trundled back to Severograd more shots began ringing in our ears. Most of us were desperate to get out of the snow and into some warmer clothes but we decided to quickly investigate what was happening. Jack and Trap approached a house in the centre of Severograd and heard a voice inside, it was Thorn. The house was currently being lived in by a squatter, the bedroom was blocked off so the only area he had up there was a small hallway to hide in. Thorn being Thorn made light of the situation, he refused to surrender and instead demanded we surrender instead. It was pitch black outside, the snow was falling down and there was still a gunfight taking place nearby over on the other side of the town. We had no intention of sitting around waiting for Thorn to get bored and come out, because he wouldn’t, so we made the risky decision to bring him out ourselves. Through the gap in a window upstairs Trap was able to get a flashbang in, hoping that Thorn was blinded by this Jack made an attempt to poke his head up the stairs to taser Thorn, this proved to be successful. Thorn eventually woke up from the shock of the taser and was taken round the back of the house and put up against the wall, something he himself was familiar with. As Odyssey stood there side by side with the guns drawn, I took the opportunity to approach Thorn by reminding him of the pain he had caused Tony, I grabbed my knife and slashed away at his arm in similar fashion. I rejoined the rest of the group and stood up on the small mound overlooking him, Thorn requested one final thing to say which he was given permission to do. His final scream of “suck my dick” was met with hundreds of bullets lighting up his face. Years of torment had built up to that one moment. In the coming months, things were pretty peaceful, there was a feeling around the group that we had done a good thing, not only for ourselves but for others around us.
Cam, an old friend of mine had returned a few months back, fuck know’s where he had been but it was a nice change to see an old face again, but that wasn’t to last long. Despite my growing concerns towards Cam and his delusional fascination towards becoming a so-called king, an invite to a sermon hosted by himself, Jon, and Kathryn seemed somewhat harmless. Along with Alice, we decided to attend together and made the trip to the church we call St. Hoovers, just on the outskirts of Severograd. As we entered the church, there was a strange eerie feeling inside. Jimmy from ORCC stood at the front alone, apart from him, Lewis, and Runa who arrived shortly after us, there were no other guests present. The sermon began but things spiraled out of control fairly quickly. Cam became persistent towards killing Kathryn in the hopes it would bring back his wife with which she was happy to go along with. It quickly registered the reason why we were really there was to witness this. We voiced our concerns and before Jon could respond, presumably telling us something Cam didn’t want him to, Cam’s sword swung into the back of Jon’s neck. I ran up, I stood in between Kathryn and Cam to prevent him from harming her. I told Cam to leave, I had given him that option but instead, he demanded I kneel before him, he stressed that anybody who stood in his way would face the same fate as Jon. I refused to ever kneel or call him a king, I wouldn’t play into this fantasy he had going on. Cam took my actions personally, he began to question my loyalty towards old friends of mine, he began to bring up names of people close to me who were no longer alive, he then mentioned Winslow. I remained calm for the most part until that moment, I raised my gun at him and asked him to repeat those words he had just muttered. Almost simultaneously he raised his sword and told me if this didn’t happen today then my blood would be shed, before he got the chance to swing he was dead. I had known Cam for as long as I could remember, but I felt cold, emotionless and quite frankly relieved that he lay motionless on the ground.
As we left the church that evening, I took off my armband and handed it to Lewis. I was beginning to spend more and more time by myself without much guidance. Lewis was a good leader, one of the best I’d seen but I had noticed a change of heart in him, It was no longer in Severograd, It was no longer with Odyssey. He has been at the forefront leading the Dugout and Odyssey for years with little time to himself. Although I don’t know much about the life he lives away from Odyssey, It’s become evident that his priorities have shifted, for now at least. Alice also handed Lewis her armband shortly afterwards and we left together in search of the others who would be joining us. I’ll leave the North knowing that we did everything we could to make it a better place. It wasn’t always easy and many questioned our hostility and methods, but it worked. Lewis, if you ever read this, you know where we’ll be.
“The Turn” By Benjamin Smits
Kneeling on the cold metal floor of Air Traffic Control, I listened and watched as a discussion between the club enforcer and president was well underway. I knew very well what was being discussed. The rigid metal started digging into my knee, so I decided to sit back. I listened and observed. Joe was meticulously dissecting every word out of Highlander’s mouth.
Highlander and I had called this meeting a day earlier. It was to discuss with the club something we had been burdened with. Something we should have had an easy answer for. Something we should have sorted out, just us two. Instead, we let our emotions and feelings get in the way of business.
And here we were, with our tails between our legs, telling our brothers information we had kept from them for days. Highlander and I knew why we delayed. Trying desperately to come up with a plan to fix this problem. Ideally, a plan would mean we don’t have to break our oaths. Our dilemma was simple. If we followed the club code, then people would most likely die. If we didn’t follow our code, then we have the club to answer to but would be free to help those people.
We concluded there was only one option. We had come up with the plan together, a plan we hoped the club agreed with. We quickly realized the bigger picture at play. Many chess pieces were involved in this story. Things had gotten complicated because of our hesitation. Now our plan required a big decision. We simply couldn’t hide it anymore; we had to let the club know and vote.
We agreed that Highlander would be best to deliver the news at the meeting. Regardless, I knew all too well that Joe, unfortunately, would want my account of events. Every club member knew he never let anyone off with a free pass. He was smart and calculated in his speech. Sometimes making you feel like a child, and he could see through deception like a hot knife through butter. Luckily this time the President had an idea what we were bringing up, with Highlander telling him prior to the meeting. However, the rest of the guys had no idea. This meeting could get very spicy.
As I awaited my turn to speak, I drifted into somewhat of a daydream. Something I do more often these days. An orb-weaving spider caught my eye. It had spun its web in the smartest of places. It was strung fully across a broken window. Any airborne creature wanting reward from inside the tower would have to dodge the deadly silk. They would be risking it all unknowingly. The web sparkled and mesmerized me for a moment in the setting sun. With an innocent look, I peered at it above me, contemplating to myself. It was littered with husks of the deceased, poor flies caught in the trap. I felt remorse for them. What a way to die; your life sucked away slowly and left to rot.
The web reminded me of what the club was doing with the airfield. The poor souls killed and looted under our watchful eye; are we the spiders of this world? I wondered as I sat there. Why do I feel remorse for bugs but none for the countless people I’ve slumped through my scope? I hope my mother never gets to see what I’ve become. What my father and this new world have made me.
“And now I ask you, Benjamin, what’s your opinion of this matter being ‘heavily’ involved yourself?”
The president had finished with the enforcer and now set his attention to me. He gazed down at me from his perch inside the tower. His sharp eyes glaring at me from between the brim of his cap and famed red and black bandana. I snapped back into the room and thought carefully before I replied.
“I understand that getting involved between clients is against our code. But my opinion is we can’t sit back on this one.”
Speaking to Joe about important club business was not my favourite cup of tea. Delivering anything to the president reminded me of times being in trouble with my father. He pondered my response and replied in his pitchless monotone.
“And why is that, Ben? We rarely bend our rules; why is this time any different?”
I took a massive nervous gulp and spoke my mind.
“For me, there is more to this than just Runa losing her cool and shooting Alan. Alex, in her anxious state, mentioned their stash house in West Novo and it being the focus of Runa’s demands during the meeting. She was demanding Spades tell her who lived there, but they wouldn’t give it up. And to add, the place has now since been raided and cleared out.”
I paused for a breath and continued.
“For me, this stinks of Odyssey. We are all aware of the romantic relationship between Lewis and Runa. We know the relationship between Spades and Odyssey has been rocky. I have a heavy suspicion they know Spades are clients of the club. Simply put, they think the club has a stash house there, and Lewis has tasked his girlfriend with finding out.”
This time I nervously paused, waiting for someone to interject. They never did so I continued.
“Her meeting and demands didn’t go well. She lost her cool, and we all know what happens to people she suspects of working with us; just ask Kainan.”
I paused again and took out the battered ledger from my belt.
“For me, if we don’t step in, we let our enemies tighten their grip on the Northeast free of charge, and we let a good relationship go to waste.”
I continued, gaining some confidence in my speech.
“Also, the Spades ledger is clean as a whistle. Not a single red mark over any of our dealings, and they have always delivered when business has gone down. Surely that accounts for something.”
I conclude my side of the story.
“For me, Highlanders plan of a patchover is our only option. Spades are folding anyway; since the suicide of Ace, they have lost their vision. Odyssey tightens their grip over the Northeast regardless; the only win we can gain here is saving two people who have always been loyal to the club.”
After I finish speaking, Joe looks at me for a moment, his glare just as intense as before. He looks away from me and towards Highlander and starts to address us both.
“You two both put too much trust in people; I wouldn’t be surprised if your suspicions were true, but your story also raises a lot of questions. Big questions. Regardless of the hand we choose to play, I want those answered first. For all we know, Spades could have betrayed us months ago already.”
I knew Joe would reply in this way. I admired the commitment to his role and the club. His loyalty to his men and what we stand for never faltered. I knew full well though that this deep passion he had was fuelled by his own selfish, material desires. Regardless of his professional and calm demeanour, Joe Fraser was as cold and ruthless as they come. Make no doubt about it. Nobody was bigger than the club with him at the helm. The president paused and scanned the room.
“Before we vote, does anyone else have anything to say?”
Henry, the vice president, pipes up with a snap of what I thought were fair concerns and frustrations.
“I too have the same concerns as Joe, but I’m also fucking tired of all this hiding information and doing things behind each other’s backs.”
Joe replies.
“Yes, Henry is right; things like this need to reach the table sooner. Especially when it involves our clients. Highlander as the club’s enforcer. I expect you to lead by example. Anyone else?”
An awkward silence fills the tower.
“Ok then, as club president I call a vote on the potential patchover of Alex and Alan of the Spades MC. All in favour, raise your hand.”
I stood back up and cast my vote, raising my hand. My bum numb from the cold floor. A few moments pass by, and I breathe a sigh of relief. An in favour vote is confirmed, and Joe speaks to conclude the meeting.
“Ok Highlander, Benjamin, before you give Spades our answer, set a meeting with Runa. I want her version of events; I’ve got some questions for her. You two will accompany me to the Northeast. I want to tell her personally that if she touches Alan or Alex, she now has me to deal with and the full weight of the club.”
I reply with concern.
“She won’t like this one bit and probably won’t play ball.”
Joe replies with malice.
“Well, if she doesn’t agree, her boyfriend gets a nice anonymous tip-off, letting him know that she does business with the club.”
“Carter’s Clairvoyance” by Runa
“Hey, you have a visitor!” Scorpion yelled up to the castle tower as he banged on the door. Runa awoke from her wolf fur bedding, her hair a tangled mess. She grabbed the deagle at her side still not processing what she was told and only that she was startled awake. “What is going on?!”
“I said you have a visitor. A firefly is here!” Scorpion shouted.
A few minutes later Runa would step out from the castle and down into the courtyard below. The sun dazed her vision for a moment as her eyes adjusted to the light. Before her coming into view stood a familiar man in the courtyard. A firefly in his yellow armband, slouch hat and purple shirt. This outfit differed from the one she saw him in a few days ago when his group came to visit. Carter had taken her aside before his group had left, asking some questions about Selene, and the nature of divinity. Now he stood before her quickly greeting her; A smile adorned his face that quickly turned to a frown as he began to recall the events of yesterday.
Runa listened as Carter recalled the events of his prior evening when he had been kidnapped by Alastor and his Black Thorn Gang. Mentions of Harry paying a ransom for him were mentioned and how he felt fear, regret, and most of all a need for vengeance. Runa would speak to him and remind him of Selene’s duality; A light side of compassion, love, and serenity, and a dark one of vengeance, and retribution. She counseled him on the dangers of vengeance and hate. “This Alastor may take a while for you and the Fireflies to catch and enact justice on.. Be careful of your hate, it can quickly blind you and lash out if unfulfilled.”.
Carter paused for a moment at this advice and nodded his head. “Yea.. I know it can… My past is filled with grief and doubt. I can’t escape it.” Runa attempted to level with him: “We all have done things we regret, most of those still alive have done horrible acts…” Carter hesitated again before speaking. “My pain is a constant reminder. It’s like life’s way of saying you’re still a villain, you’re still alive, and it makes you remember that.”
The two of them stood for a moment in silence. Carter was lost in the thoughts of his past while Runa thought of potential solutions, ways to help the man who had come to her for insight. Finally, she spoke up, mentioning some possible solutions. One was a moonlit rite of Selene to achieve serenity, while another was a tarot card reading meant to bring clairvoyance to his past.
Carter replied, “Well I’ve never done anything like either of those in my life, but I think the tarot reading might be best.” Runa would warn him of the danger of the reading, that it wasn’t fully in her control and the answer might be something he did not want to hear.
Carter was set on it though “I’m ready for the tarot card reading now if you have time.” Runa nodded her head in agreement and disappeared back in the castle momentarily before returning with a deck of faction cards in her hands. She told him before he started that he had to pick the topic, to decide what he truly wanted clairvoyance on. He affirmed in his mind and spoke to her before they began. “Did I do enough to get here, am I strong enough?” She would draw from the deck and place six cards face down before him. One at a time she revealed them, explaining their meaning and relevance. The two stood together and discussed the reading, his past, and future, what he must do, what he must focus on, and how to move forward. By the end of it, Carter was almost in tears. The retrospective had haunted him down to his core, yet enlightened and reaffirmed what he thought true. He stood there with a new breath and an aura of confidence. “Thank you…I know what I must do now. I must look forward and not back. My future lies in doing good, and for now, that future is with the Fireflies!”
Runa wished him luck and they quickly said their goodbyes. Carter said he had to depart, and that Harry was likely looking for him. That he had been gone all day. As he left, Runa picked up the cards and watched him hop off the tower and out of her courtyard. Hopefully to a better fate than yesterday.
“A Dramatic Irony” by Alice
“Alice, we made you a promise. We have him. Do what you need to do.” Beau greeted the young woman with a deagle extended from his hand. Alice couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge the weapon.
“I’m not taking that.” Alice stood there, her gaze locked with Beau’s, the weight of the situation hung heavy in the air.
“Is this what you wanted?” The familiar voice pierced through the tense atmosphere, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. It was a voice she knew all too well, a voice that held power and authority.
“You guys can do what you need to do.” Alice continued to whisper, ignoring the voice at first.
“Look at me.” The voice pierced again. She obeyed, almost out of instinct, turning herself to give him her full attention.
“Are you saying Beau can do this? Cause Beau will.” Beau answered Alice.
“Let me hear your voice when you say it.” The man commanded. His gaze upon her felt intense as if trying to decipher any hint of emotion she might reveal.
“Well, I’m not talking to you right now.” Alice finally spoke up, her voice laced with a simmering anger. It was a small act of defiance, a way of asserting her autonomy in a situation where she felt utterly powerless. Alice lowered her voice once more as she turned to Beau and discussed the actions they needed to take.
—————————
“Alice, that was fucking bold of you.”
Alice looked directly into the man’s eyes as a sly smile crept onto her lips. “I’m aware.” Her tone rang with confidence.
“So.” A second man spoke up. “You want to chat?”
“Yeah…” Alice looked towards Emerson, a hint of concern echoed in her voice. “She has nothing to do with this. Leave her be.”
The men agreed as they left Emerson outside and moved Alice into the cover of a barn. There they had her wait for their leader. Alice sat there observing them in silence, calculating her odds of getting out without getting shot.
Finally, the doors swung open, and the familiar figure she had been hunting stepped into the barn. His presence sent a shiver down Alice’s spine, but she refused to let it show. As he approached her, a mocking smile played on his lips. Alice maintained her composure, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination.
“Ah, Alice. Alice Fraser.” He said playfully, his voice dripping with malice as he kneeled down to her level. “So, Alice, tell me what happens when I catch you first?” He chuckled, standing up straight once more.
“You tell me.” Alice responded slyly, a hint of defiance in her tone. It was a dangerous game she played and as she stared into his eyes, she knew that she was ready for whatever came next
————————–
“What trouble did you get into this time?” Squirrel parked the car near Alice and stepped out, handing her some food as she leaned against the vehicle.
“Wouldn’t you love to know, old friend.” Alice remarked, taking the cow steak and devouring it hungrily.
“Well, old friend, there was a note left on our front door about you.” Squirrel continued, a hint of concern crept into his voice.
“Oh?” Alice raised an eyebrow.
“Something about ‘Alice seems to be involved in everything’.” Squirrel relayed, his expression troubled.
“Hm.” Alice murmured thoughtfully, her mind already racing through the implications. “I’m gonna join Odyssey. Thought you should know.”
Squirrel’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s the right move for now. Besides, a deal was made.” Alice explained.
———————
So much fucking noise.
Alice thought to herself as she tried to find a quiet corner amidst the attendees of Fight Night. In the midst of her search, she was intercepted by Raphael.
“Alice. You should know I didn’t pay Alexi Jones to kill you.” Raphael declared, his voice firm and insistent.
Alice closed her eyes briefly, steeling herself against the emotions churning within her. She didn’t want to be caught up in this mess, she wanted to tell him she really didn’t give a fuck. All she longed for was a moment of peace, a chance to escape the chaos that seemed to follow her wherever she went.
“Honestly, I don’t know who to believe.” She muttered in response. She could feel Shifty’s presence nearby.
“Alice, I swear to you. I didn’t do it.” Raphael insisted, his tone pleading.
But before Alice could respond, Shifty intervened, gently guiding her away from Raphael and his Dark Angels.
“Look, we aren’t going to talk to you right now.” Shifty declared, his voice firm as he led Alice away from the confrontation. And in that moment, as they moved through the crowd, Alice realized something.
———————
‘Endurance for starters.’
Click
The lock opened, Alice swiftly reached for her gun and gently pushed the gate open. Her senses were on high alert as she scanned the area for any signs of danger. No hostiles were spotted inside.
‘Perseverance.’
Lowering her gun, Alice cautiously approached the shelters, her senses still attuned to any potential threats. She peeked inside and scanned for any signs of valuable items. To her disappointment, nothing of value seemed to be found within.
‘A cold demeanor sometimes but it gets the point across.’
Alice noticed a slip of paper amongst bits and bobs any survivor would possess. She quietly reached for it, careful not to move anything out of place.
‘And a network of connections. Something that takes most people years to make.’
She read the note, finding nothing concrete but something oddly intriguing. She carefully placed it back among the scattered items, her mind already racing with possibilities.
‘You underestimate yourself, quite a lot.’
The woman gripped her gun firmly as she retraced her step backward out of the compound and locked it back up. She traveled onwards until she reached Pavlovo.
‘I am envious of you sometimes when I look at you. Some of the things you can do, Alice, I can never imagine doing anymore. That’s ancient history.’
Alice took rest in a bush and stared out at a particular building that resided in the barn complex of Pavlovo. Memories of that place flooded her mind. When she first removed her armband, when Waxxer was confronted, when Trap was informed of a bounty on him, and when Shifty was almost blown up. And amidst the chaos of those memories, one figure stood out prominently.
Cob.
“The Faults of Friendship” by Cob
Time is a fickle thing, has it really been four months since I last put pen to paper? It would seem that way and even with so many events to mark its passage, I’ve found it hard to keep track… One such event occurred in the first month of the year, or near enough, we had been paid a visit at the farm by our very good friend Vadim. It had been some time since we’d last seen each other and he seemed a little off-put but with the snow still on the ground and cold in the air, we figured it was just the temperature making him feel a tad on edge. It wasn’t until a bit later when he brought another of the Golden Peppers’ friends, Emerson of Odyssey, along with a man named Damien, that Vadim let it be known that he was concerned about my health. So much so that he had asked Emerson, an esteemed doctor, to give me a once over; citing his growing concerns about our extended stay in the gas. Sure, I admitted that I, along with a few others, had a cough at the time but it was merely an effect of the snow-laden winter we had been experiencing; undoubtedly. Privately, Emerson conveyed her concerns to me and was convinced that prolonged exposure to the gas would have damaging effects, stating that it would be best for us to take a break. Surely this place that provides such incomparable solace from the hells of the World could not be to blame; after all, we took every precaution, most of the time. After my physical, concerns were put to rest to the other Peppers with Emerson rather uncomfortably agreeing with my statements about a clean bill of health. We got to know Vadim’s latest business associate, Damien, a bit better. He seemed an intriguing individual who resided up north and gave a bit of restraint to some of Vadim’s wilder notions. I couldn’t help but shake the feeling as they left though, that they didn’t seem all that comfortable around us. Strange behavior from our friends.
Dill, who was a neighbor in Zvir, had gone on several treks with Trev, Regi, and myself and was quickly proving her mettle, swiftly becoming a recruit. Upon returning from one such trek with Regi to the Spaces Motorcycle Club’s fight night, Dill had come back injured and alone. This was cause for concern, while Regi was prone to extended visits with groups we had relations with, he would generally keep us informed ahead of time if he were not going to be back for a time. Once Dill had recovered, we promoted her up to full recruit status as she’d demonstrated consistent grit and resourcefulness without question. We ranged north in pursuit of clues and it was within the vicinity of the ORCC compound where we managed to pickup a partial radio call for help from Regi; claiming that Odyssey, Vadim, Damien, and others had captured him in an attempt to “cure” him of this alleged gas sickness. He had suffered injuries, been injected with who knows what, and was effectively being forced to reside in the quasi-state of Brixton.
We set off immediately, intent on bringing him home and ascertaining why our friends would treat him this way. Upon arriving at their pub (a known congregation area for Odyssey) we were greeted by Lewis, Emerson, and others who nervously stated that Regi was inside and that we should come in to talk. Needless to say, the air was thick, as Trev, Ross, Rowan, and Dill had all been growing increasingly ireful during our journey. It was here we were told that Odyssey only had the best of intentions and that those in Vadim’s party got a little too aggressive when Regi, who had stopped by Brixton to visit, had begun to figure out that he was going to be kept against his will. Despite putting up quite the fight in an attempt to escape, he eventually had his legs broken, and found himself facedown in the snow, barely hanging on to life. He recounted to us the harrowing tale, and the days that had passed where he was injected with the po-x antidote as Emerson attempted to both study and treat him for the perceived gas illness, he was allowed to join them as they roamed the region but was strongly encouraged to not set off for home. Interestingly, Lewis attempted to claim Regi was not a prisoner when Dill, myself, and others pointed out as much. Looking at it through the lens of today it is almost comical and I think in the moment Lewis and Emerson both could see that it wasn’t the easy-breezy scenario they had first painted it to be, especially for Regi who had to be fearful of attempting to leave again based on what was done to him the first time. Many words of a harsh and accusatory nature were said by myself, Trev, Ross, Dill, and even Rowan -who is typically quite reserved- with Lewis, Emerson, and even Shifty providing argument… I understood their loyalty to one another but this was cut and dry to me. We agreed with Emerson that they could come visit us in a few weeks to check in and run further tests if they wanted as they’d yet to provide a shred of proof that anything was wrong with us.
Upon leaving I couldn’t help but think back to the time we’d inadvertently interceded on Odyssey’s behalf during a standoff with DAMN at Humble Haven and how we suffered greatly for our friends.
In the following days, it was established that Vadim and Emerson would take a trek into the gas with us to get our perspective on the matter and to showcase that it was entirely safe, with a date being set to meet at the Church in Pavlovo.
The day arrived, and we watched as a host of northerners filed into the church. Emerson was accompanied by Lewis and few others of Odyssey, while Vadim had brought Damien and Sean. A concerning number but surely our friends meant no ill intent. Pleasantries were exchanged, wherein Vadim began to display a nervousness that was entirely uncharacteristic, showing heavy concern for both his and Emerson’s safety. Vadim even went so far as to critique Rowan, a stoic who routinely wore a gas mask as a measure of safety and comfortability, stating he was off-put by his mere presence. Both Beau and Lewis too conveyed their concerns with Emerson seemingly being on board despite Vadim all but begging her to not go. We allayed their concerns and Regi attempted to proceed on with a safety briefing but Vadim’s protests continued and I couldn’t help but notice the church filled with an expectant energy, everyone seemed ready for something. And that’s when it began…
Vadim asked me to light his cigarette and the church erupted in what sounded like gunfire, I tried to run through it while catching glimpses of people falling in my periphery. The unbridled chaos subsided as quickly as it started and I was left in a room where all of my people were laid unconscious and my supposed friends were pointing guns at me demanding my surrender. No. Overcome, I produced an old grenade I had been carrying and alerted my captors that I had pulled the pin and was committed to dragging them all to the gates of hell with me should they test me further. What followed was a tense standoff where Vadim, Lewis, and Beau attempted to talk me down but there was no coming back from this. I watched as my people were restrained and beaten for speaking out of turn or trying to free themselves and this only hardened my resolve. Beau attempted to explain that what they did was for our benefit, using non-lethal means, and desiring to force some “treatment” on us. How could this be anything but yet another betrayal? Further words were exchanged, with Trev, Regi, Dill, and Rowan all bravely voicing their justifiably biting opinions. And with Shifty and Sean even jumping into the fray in an attempt to get their way. During all of this it became evident that one of the voices of kindness and reason, Emerson, had gone quiet. She was lying motionless on the floor. It later became known that during the chaos, Regi fired wildly in self-defense at our would-be captors, with Emerson becoming severely injured. This was not at all the outcome we had desired. Yet again we were on the receiving end of outsiders’ whims. Why were they so afraid? The standoff ended with one last reminder to Lewis that I would paint the inside of the church if pressed further, as he and Odyssey gathered Emerson and left, Beau cast somber messages of good intent and sadness over our supposed eventual demise to the gas. Damien hurled a pointed threat regarding Emerson as he and Sean lined their pockets with a few weapons before leaving, all while being followed by Rowan who just wanted what was his returned; instead, he caught a round in the back as he returned to the church. What a display of friendship.
Patching Rowan up, everyone gathered themselves, letting the shock of what just occurred wash over us like a wave. As I put the pin back in the grenade, I thought on the words Vadim and I exchanged before his exit; it was evident he had fully convinced himself of the existence of this “illness” along with everyone else, though the look in his eyes was not of malice but concern. But did he and Odyssey really think that this would convince us that our path is anything other than just and necessary?! It only served to further prove that our withdrawal into the gas was the only move we could make, the only bastion of safety left for us. This echoed in my mind as the days passed and on one such day, we stood in the ORCC compound speaking with Jimmy, who seemed abuzz with nervous energy whenever we arrived but nevertheless proved an adept trader and someone Trev took particular interest in, considering him to be one of our favorites. Despite ORCC previously having harbored a group who we later found had broken into one of our buildings, Jimmy along with McNeil, Alex, and others had done a good job of assuaging our agitation, bolstering relations over a number of meetings.
We learned news had spread of what occurred in Pavlovo and through various conversations, it was evident that by and large many felt an overreach had arisen. We were discussing this and more with the Spades at their home when Lewis came by yelling a warning to Regi that his well-being may be in danger from an angered Vadim & company regarding Emerson’s injuries. Confused, but appreciative, we kept our guard up as we met with members of a group known as Black Sun in a neighboring pub; mostly just to ascertain who they were and get a feel for what they were about. This was cut short by rifle rounds coming through the windows from afar. One of theirs was hit with Dill receiving a serious head wound. We organized an exit strategy and with great haste were able to get her stabilized enough to transport home where she would be able to rest and recover, in our place of respite from this unyielding. Dill, mostly, recovered with the wound not entirely healing but her resolve seemed stronger now, sterner, sharper; and became a full member of the Golden Peppers. Shortly thereafter, the man on the other end of the trigger was found to be Bobby of the 506th. Ironic, as he too was at one time a friend to us, helping us rout squatters out of town what felt like an age ago. Pain at the hands of yet another friend. Seeking vengeance, we all roamed in search of him as rumors of the 506th’s collapse had spread and their numbers limited, pinning down a location proved nigh impossible.
Time ticked on as it wanted to do and through its passage, a number of those responsible for our mistreatment apologized in their own way. A startled and off-guard Vadim interrupted while meeting with Fireflies and brokered a deal to return what was stolen, which gave way to more agreeable conversations during the opening of his establishment, The Continental. Herein Damien and Sean both spoke on the events, expressing a form of remorse with Damien later meeting us in Pavlovo to make amends. Even Lewis, and Runa, visited to offer apologies for the way things occurred with Runa offering an apology for a past wrong. Through this, word had reached us of Emerson’s recovery, and while this was much to our relief I knew any mention of Emerson made Regi wholly uncomfortable, mired with guilt over how things unfolded, he would take long walks alone with his thoughts. Intriguingly Elias, Johnny, Alex, and the sought-after Bobby arrived one day calling themselves the Revenants and proclaiming a change of course from the old ways, and wrongs, of the 506th. We dealt with them as though you would a wild animal, unsure of their motivations but stern and pointed, especially when it came to the shooting of Dill. Much to our astonishment, Bobby proclaimed it to be an honest mistake thinking he was firing upon Eclipse (formerly Black Sun), producing compelling apologies and further stating that they would do anything in order to make it right. Subsequent meetings with May, Elias, Johnny, Alex, and Bobby further proved their intentions were sound, at least for now, with them providing proof they wished to make amends. We had left it up to Dill as to whether or not she wanted to pursue a personal repayment from Bobby for her injuries, and she ultimately decided to let it settle as it had so that relations could continue.
Much later Trev and I had arrived late to a wedding for Matt from the Overlook and Sierra, a self-proclaimed witch. Regi and Dill had attended the ceremony and we met up with them at the celebration afterward. It was intriguing observing members of the Merry Men, Chefs, and others we’d had meetings with in the past. Everyone seemed in a joyous mood and it brought back old memories of living in the East and visiting the Overlook. I watched as Regi and Dill bristled at the opportunity to speak with so many, their spirits seemed lifted, happy even, I longed for home; a calling to leave gnawing at the edges of my mind. A similar look was reflected in Trev’s eyes with stares westward. Regi and Dill had spent a good while speaking with members of the Fireflies, one in particular. Shortly after arriving home, Regi sequestered himself away entirely and would not venture out even for supplies; while strange, I chalked it up to still being riddled with guilt over Emerson as members of Odyssey had attended the ceremony and from what I was told it was not exactly a friendly acknowledgment.
Within a few days a Carter of the Fireflies stopped by to drop something off for Regi and elaborated on a conversation they shared. Trev, ever-wary on matters of security, firmly questioned Carter regarding rustling outside and checked the perimeter while Rowan handled the door. I’m sure he understood. Much to our relief everything was clear as Carter had nervously stated and the meeting proceeded on with us later providing an escort out of our territory as Carter was leery of Eclipse being sighted nearby.
As days turned to weeks, we had spoken to members of the Woodsmen who we’d had good relations with in the past. Trev in particular had previously developed good rapport with Gideon, a rather friendly and resilient person who had gained our confidence alongside members Couch and Kye. It seemed they had run into issues with the Black Thorn Gang, a group we’d heard much chatter on of late who had been harassing numerous groups, even ransoming a person here and there. Strange as we had not had an issue when we encountered Alastor and Ned at our farm just outside town. Regardless, we let the Woodsmen know we’d try to check in when time allowed. Not long afterwards we received a rather alarming note and set off to their home where we were greeted not as friends but more as a nuisance by two of their people denying any need for aid and countermanding the note we’d received from Gideon of all people. Yet another stark reminder that friendship is fleeting. A subsequent meeting days later ensued wherein Trev sternly informed Couch of the previous debacle, driving home that their house was not in order. Couch seemed to take all of it in stride until he unexpectedly nearly took the head off of a long-time friend of ours who had accompanied us there. We showed a tremendous amount of restraint in this instance in the hopes of preserving relations but were then later met with the news that they’d gotten the Fireflies involved and between the two have seemed to spin things in such a way as to paint us in a nearly villainous light. Why were they so fearful of our friendship?
There’s more to this but my thoughts travel elsewhere.
Weighing foremost in my mind has been this notion of friendship. How mercurial a thing, especially now at the end of the world. Those from outside who were foes pouring forth agony drove us into making this choice but those claiming friend have done little better. I struggle to see their good intentions and am convinced that our decision was essential.
Perhaps it is they who need help from their good friends the Golden Peppers?
And finally, the state of my fellow Golden Peppers has occupied many a night’s reflections.
I’ve watched these many months, as each in their own way have contributed toward not just our survival, but towards achieving a significant measure of success as well. Nonetheless accompanied by this is a set of intricacies, the likes of which feel foreign. There is a warmth exhibited by some towards outsiders that’s reminiscent of days gone by, an exuberance towards those that are not us, a distance that seems to evaporate around the presence of others… Are they unwell? And yet others possess a fortitude, a resolve unadulterated, a guardianship over what is ours and of one another. Intriguing.
Sitting here writing this, an all too familiar wind has started to blow in, signaling yet another large and destructive storm brewing on the horizon. In times past I would have been fearful, afraid to lose the lives of fellow Golden Peppers, of those I’ve known across Chernarus for years, of my own…
But instead, I find myself consumed only with thoughts of the place that calls to me and of the totality of what has been said and done….
Did I push my people too hard, asked too much? Have we really become something else? Is the gas truly to blame?
At times I feel like an apparition, unable to pierce the veil and revel in the joking, in the joyous camaraderie of man; or is it that I am simply unwilling?
Am I really so changed?
Maybe I’m just a ghost haunting the flesh of the man I used to be.
Or maybe I’m just fine.
“The Beginning of the End” by Kathryn
The marble I lie on was smooth. Cold. Even colder than the air within the crumbling church that caused my thighs to develop goose pimples. It wasn’t normal for me to be so naked. Vulnerable. And yet here I was, lying on a sarcophagus at the feet of my King, his sword raised.
The dress I wore for the ritual was loose, and the fabric wrinkled uncomfortably beneath me. I pushed the discomfort of the fabric and the cold from my mind as I imagined the paradise I had been promised. I was to trade places with Eden, the love of the King’s life. I was honored to have been chosen to be the vessel that would allow her to return to her husband’s side.
Those from the castle were not the only ones present – there were witnesses in this place of worship. Jimmy from ORCC had accompanied the royal court to the church, with Shifty and Alice from Odyssey arriving shortly after. Towards the end of Jon’s sermon, Lewis and Princess Runa had also entered the holy building. They had listened to the sermon that Lord Jon had delivered as a prelude to the ritual, and I could sense the tension rising from the non-believers as the King prepared to send me to paradise.
My eyes were closed as the King suggested that beheading me would be the best way to proceed. Worry did not fill me and I did not tense as I prepared to fulfill my purpose. Before the sword could fall, however, I heard the sudden shuffling of feet approach, with Shifty’s voice cutting the hushed silence that had taken over the room.
“Cam, I don’t think you should go ahead and do that,” he said. “I don’t think you should harm her at all. I don’t think this is going to work.”
I could sense the King still, and I opened my eyes to see him scowling beyond my field of vision.
“I think she’s naive,” Shifty continued. “I think she’s been following your orders and has no idea what she’s doing.”
Naive? How dare he interrupt such an important moment. For me. For the King. For the entirety of the Kingdom and its pursuit to spread paradise across the land.
The men continued to exchange harsh words until Shifty grew tired of my King’s persistence and instead focused his attention onto me, addressing me directly.
“Lady Kathryn, what if this doesn’t work?”
My annoyance only grew over the blasphemy of such a question. How dare he question the King’s motives. I tried to keep the frustration from my voice as I answered.
“If it doesn’t work, Boldewijn will bring me back. And if it succeeds, I will have performed the greatest honor I could for my King.”
Shifty believed my devotion and trust in Boldewijn to be misplaced. He didn’t understand. But it did not matter if he shared my belief. I trusted my King, and I trusted in our God.
Lewis also tried to interject, at which point Lord Jon tried to come to the King’s defense. As he spoke, however, he seemed to become affected by the pleas of the spectators, who had been trying to insist that the ritual should be brought to a halt. His sudden doubt stopped him from continuing to take the side of the King, and his tone shifted.
“Cam, maybe they’re right. Maybe,” he hesitated. “Maybe this is wrong. Maybe – “
A swing cut the air and a grunt came from Lord Jon as he tried to utter more words. Again, he was cut short as he collapsed to the floor and a collective gasp echoed throughout the church. For the first time, I turned my head, just as surprised as the others that Lord Jon’s body lay crumpled before the King. My eyes watched a trail of crimson follow the cracks between the cobblestones.
Shifty moved, placing himself between myself and the King. He questioned this sudden turn on the King’s closest friend, which the King was quick to defend. Shifty interrupted him, his formerly calm tone turning accusatory.
“Is that going to be me, if I prevent you from doing what you want to do?”
“No,” my King answered. “You don’t have to worry about this, Shifty. This is just what happens when people disobey. And you aren’t going to disobey. In fact, I think you are going to kneel.”
“I’m not going to do jack shit for you.”
For the first time, I saw King Cam grow impatient. While he had formerly given people the option to join us when they were ready, he was now persistent in convincing Shifty – in convincing everyone present – that they join him in the paradise he was trying to create.
“Nobody in this room is going to join you in this delusional paradise that you have going on in your mind,” Shifty interjected. “Nor will Lady Kathryn be joining you.”
Again the King defended his position. He defended his honor. He defended his promise to bring paradise to all.
This had no effect on Shifty, and so King Cam began to cut deep with his words. Listing off the names of those who had died or gone missing during Shifty’s leadership of the Vigil.
“Cam, you’re out of place,” Lewis interrupted.
The King ignored Lewis, spitting out one more name. “Where’s Winslow, Shifty?”
Shifty’s gun lifted quickly, and Shifty stepped forward, the barrel of his gun pointed at the King’s head. “Say that name one more time,” he growled. “Say it.”
An uncomfortable silence again settled between the stone walls of the church, and my King took a deep breath. “Now, I love you, Shifty, and I’m not saying these things to hurt you. But I love my wife more than any of you combined. And I will do anything to get her back. That is what I have always said – for years. And I am tired of waiting. I have done enough. Now, you are going to put your gun down, you’re going to kneel, or I am going to have to do something I really don’t want to do. And if I have to –“
He was interrupted by Shifty, who was again speaking calmly although he stood steady with his gun. “No. You’re going to put that sword down. You’re going to turn around, go through that door, and fuck off back to your castle. Or I will be the one doing something I don’t want to do.”
King Cam paused, glancing at me with his sword still grasped firmly in his hands. He turned his attention back to Shifty, narrowing his eyes. “If I don’t do this here today, it will be someone else up there another day. And if it comes to fighting you, I will wash your blood off of my hands with the same tears I weep in this world.” His sword rose, his intention clear, and I jumped as bullets were fired in rapid succession.
His body fell beside that of Lord Jon’s and I sat up in a panic. Not only had I failed the King as his shield maiden, I had failed in serving my sacrificial purpose.
Shifty hardly batted an eye as he turned his gaze away from King Cam’s body, his gaze piercing into me instead. “You’re not going to do anything, are you.” It was a statement, not a question, but I still shook my head as the color drained from my face, my heart beating rapidly.
I felt the eyes of the others in the room on me as I shakily climbed off of the sarcophagus and back into a corner.
“You really believe all that bullshit?” Shifty pressed.
“For years I have faithfully served my King,” I said, holding my hands together in an attempt to keep them steady. “He’s given me no reason to not believe him.”
“I think he just did,” I heard Lewis say, but I did not take my eyes off Shifty. His expression softened, and his tone was soothing.
“None of us mean any harm to you, Lady Kathryn. Don’t be afraid.” He moved his eyes from mine, and I followed his gaze to the disfigured body of my King. “But I don’t think the promises they were promising you were legit. I don’t think they were really going to work.”
I kept my back against the wall, moving along it to get close to the fallen body of my King. I wanted to go to him, to drop on my knees and beg for his forgiveness in having failed him. But I was scared. I was scared of Shifty, of all in that room. Not so much because I feared that they would hurt me, but because I was afraid that they would keep me from returning to my King once Boldewijn had brought him back to life.
I glared at Shifty, my fear giving way to anger. “You think you’re better than the Lost Legion, doing this to him?”
“I don’t think I’m better than anyone,” he stated.
I continued to back up towards the entrance of the church, looking between each pair of eyes still watching me. They had just stood there. Had let Shifty mow down the King in a place of worship.
Shifty continued to try to convince me that what I believed was false, that my loyalty to the King was misplaced.
Nothing he could say could shake my steadfast belief in Boldewijn. No words could leave his mouth that would make me believe that serving my King had been a mistake.
Emotions clouded my mind as I panicked at what had transpired. I couldn’t allow them to keep me separated from the King. I had to be ready to continue with the ritual once he returned.
When I felt like there was enough distance between myself and the naysayers, I turned, throwing open the doors and running. I didn’t look back as I sprinted into the woods.
As I disappeared into the dense foliage, I felt the pain of having failed my King. I would not let him down again.
“Orph’s Lament” by Orph
I cinched the tattered coat up tighter around me futilely attempting to keep out the cold wind rippling the dark, placid water of Black Lake. He was gone. Only a slowly discoloring patch of blood on the table in the cabin and the lingering smell of rotting fish and flesh remained, along with the psychic echo of the rifle report still ringing in my ears, rattling my skull. I was alone again, how I always ended up. My head throbbed and swirled with memories of that day, the face of that nameless stranger, eyes staring into nowhere, his bright blood spilling into the grass from the gaping wound in his head.
I kept the Skorpion, one of several of his gifts I reluctantly accepted along with admonitions on the importance of protection, loaded with rubber bullets; I didn’t even want to kill in self-defense. I remembered the glowing optimism of the vows of pacifism and dedication to mutual aid I had sworn to Winter and the rest of the Black Cross that day years ago in the old school in Severograd. I had been there since and that place once filled with friendly voices struggling against the darkness only reverberated hollowly with the distant sound of wolves and occasional bursts of gunfire.
I kept the Mosin on my back solely for deer and wolves. Carefully maintained but rarely fired, its heavy burden always dug into my shoulder. That day I wandered briefly away from his watchful eye to rummage through some old barn for supplies. I came around the side of the building and down the street I saw a man who was talking to Lester turn to look me in the eyes, I met his gaze and raised my hand in a friendly wave. I still can’t make sense of what happened next. I saw the crossbow go off in Lester’s gloved hands, the bolt sticking halfway through the man’s leg. I saw the man crumple to the ground only to rise again, a pistol in his hands, emptying round after round at my companion. Panic set in, I pulled the Skorpion out of my pack and sprayed wildly, emptying the magazine in the direction of the crawling man who was still attacking Lester. He went limp, but I heard his ragged breaths still. A few agonizing moments later he started to stir, to reach for his gun so I had no choice but to put that Mosin to his forehead and squeeze the trigger.
I fell to my knees in the grass and tore my gaze away from those lifeless eyes to the still vital body of my friend, blood spattering his filthy and torn denim jacket. Peeling back the clothes I saw fresh oozing holes in an already unbelievably scarred body and was broadsided by the stench of rotting flesh, coming from his pockets and from underneath the grimy mask he never took off. I packed the wounds with gauze, trying not to retch, and fumbled to inject him with morphine and epinephrine, hoping to ward off the worst of the pain and the dangers of hemorrhagic shock, like I’d learned taking care of people at the aid station.
Having done what I could for him for now I sat with my back against the rough siding of the house and tried to slow my pounding heart and still my churning stomach. Where was that smell coming from? Everything he had given me was suffused with that stench, and while I had accepted that now familiar pong of decay, unsettling and yet strangely comforting, I couldn’t help but wonder. I was just so glad not to be alone, to finally feel safer since returning to Chernarus that It didn’t matter that at first he’d brutishly robbed me, striking me upside the head with a glancing blow from a hatchet, leaving a still tender wound. It didn’t matter that he looked like… like that. That he smelled like that. He had walked up behind me again that same afternoon while I was obliviously lost in thought considering the dusty contents of a shed, I saw his shadow looming far too late. He admonished me to be more cautious, laughing with that now familiar “Hee hee hee” but after a moment of consideration invited me along with him and I’ve been running in that shadow ever since. He’d kept me fed, demonstrated his trust in me by arming me piece by piece with weapons we found along the way, taught me how to fight, how to creep in silence, tore through countless undead with knife and crossbow to protect me even when I was careless, drawing them to us in droves. He took me to that desolate yet beautiful place among the rocks he used to call home, told me stories about how he’d been driven out of his home, told me how he was so misunderstood and tormented. He told me not to believe the lies people told about him, told me to lie even to my few friends, even Tucker, and to every stranger we met since he was being hunted, warned me of the dangers of this world and I listened. And he listened to me! He promised me that we’d treat each other as equals, that he understood me, and I believed him.
Even in the best of times at the aid station, surrounded by brethren and visitors, I often felt alone, talked over, relegated to sawing planks or endlessly tending the camp stove while people more important talked. And since then in the places I’ve tried to fit in it was always the same old story. I was just a body to do a task that needed to be done, but so rarely a friend or a confidante. When I was heard, people often looked at me like I was strange, were bored by the details I fixated on. “We’re going hunting, just stay at camp and keep working, Orph” I would never be the best shot, never be as bold, never be as stealthy, just clumsy, distractible Orph falling behind again and again. For the first time, someone had bothered to help guide my step, help direct my aim.
And so I dragged him all the way back to that old cabin by the lake and fished and hunted to feed us and nursed him slowly back to health. I curled up with a book by the fireplace and fell asleep. I woke at dawn before the cold hearth and he was gone, not even a note left to explain.
I went out to sit on the dock in the cold morning air, craving to hear another human voice so I switched on my radio just to listen to the chatter. I heard a familiar voice, that kind, familiar drawl that often called me “Orphy” saying things that didn’t make sense.
“Dill’s Journal” by Dill
Journal Entry 9
I did it.
I took the POX antidote, just before the storm hit. My hands shook as I kneeled in that forest, contemplating. Puck and I were on our way to a location far from Pav – I had asked him to accompany me, to bear witness. It felt like an important moment for me, and I also worried there may be some kind of immediate adverse reaction.
I didn’t want to disrespect the Peppers or the hallowed grounds of Pavlovo when I did it. So we were on our way to an old ruin a few kilometers away; a place I find rather peaceful and contemplative. But partway through the journey I couldn’t take it anymore. I realized it didn’t matter where I was, I just wanted to get it over with. The shame was all-consuming. So I stopped in my tracks, knelt down, and after a moment jammed the injector into my thigh.
The immediate feeling was one of relief. Physical relief, at least. I remember the cooling sensation that rushed up my body, through the veins, into my heart, and then up into my head. I could feel the oozing of my wounds cease immediately, and over the next hour or two they would close completely. Puck said nothing when he finally saw my full face for the first time, as I slowly unwrapped the strips of bandages that had been covering me. He simply smiled as he handed over the shemagh he’d been keeping for me. I tied it around my neck. It felt so soft on the now smooth skin.
I still cannot shake the apathy that soon seeped its way into my mind, though. A dull feeling of listlessness took over my body. The constant buzzing I had felt before, that I’d come to believe was particles of the gas working their way through my circulatory system, bouncing off blood cells, giving me energy; that was all gone. You’d think the quiet would have been welcome, but it only made me feel more alone. The warm glow I had felt and seen emanating from…it’s gone now.
I knew, that day, that I was no longer the same as the other Peppers. I know that none of us truly understand the mechanism by which the gas changes us. And deep down, I think they all know, they know it does…Ross has done some research, but, I don’t know. I don’t know. The innate connection I had felt with them, no matter time or distance, has been severed.
I’ll be living with Puck and a few of his friends now. I didn’t even have to ask. He’d been waiting for me, I think. We’re securing a home for ourselves in the north, of all places. A place I’ve spent the last 6 months hating, and dreading. I guess we’ll see if they can all change my mind about the place. I already miss the mountainous forests of the west. And the Peppers. I fear for them. I know no one else understands, or even tries to…I’ll do what I can for them, from the shadows. That feels so silly to say, but I’m not sure what will happen should we ever meet again.
Alright, I’ve got to go. We need nails.
Dill
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