On forum: 05/13/2007
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The breaking Spirit|
This is a journal of my game,(that I actually, cut out, for the most part) but it picks up into an epic conflict in the later entries. I'm agonizing over posting this now that I have seen how rambling it seems... The last few are good, enjoy. It's my view of how the zone's spirit would collapse if people really interacted with it too deeply.
June 21, 2012
I have decided to keep a journal of my encounters in the zone, in case I am to perish in my adventures.
Today I had to travel through the wild territory (a place all stalkers have come to detest), to bring some
artifacts and mutant parts to my associate, Sakharov. My pack consisted of my newest kit, my customized
groza, customized to fit 5.45mm rounds. In addition to that, I carried my VSS, for the long range encounters
that I so often find myself in when I pass through that despisable patch of land.
June 24, 2012
I spent my day purging two groups of bandits with my duty comrades. I purged them in the wild territory and in the Garbage. Using my VSS I picked them off
from afar and managed to get out of there unscathed. On a more tragic note, the roadblock at the Garbage was overrun by 2 groups of flesh and boar. All of
the men at the checkpoint died fighting, and I arrived to see their corpses half-eaten and bloated, hardly a death appropriate for such brave defenders
of humanity. The commander of the check point actually ran all the way back to the bar, where he hid in the trench, hoping that no one would here of his
disaster. He was terribly mistaken. I informed General Voronin of the massacre, who then proceeded to identify the corpses to update his troop manifest
his scouts returned to announce that the commander was not present amongst the corpses. Voronin immediately sent search parties throughout the garbage and bar
to find him. He was found in the ditch that night and hauled to Duty base. General Voronin put together a panel of experienced duty stalkers to determine
what should be done with this selfish deserter. In the end, he was hung from a branch of the massive trees outside of Rostok.
His fate was unfortunate, but not unfitting. He abandoned not only his post, but his men, and made no effort to alert duty of the situation. As a result,
several parties of bandits entered Rostok and firefighting ensued for the rest of the night. In addition to that, so many rookies traveled through the roadblock
and ended up in the wild territory and Yanter, doubtlessly meeting their deaths or being recruited by the Anarchists. The total known death-toll of this buffoon's
error was 27. 8 Stalkers perished fighting the bandits at rostok, 10 bandits were killed there, and 9 rookie's corpses turned up in the dark territory. It may be
some time before a new squad is sent to the Garbage, as we are stretched extremely thin.
The next morning there was a raid against the freedom base. Some say that Voronin was acting too emotional, in light of recent events, and attacked freedom
out of anger, rather than for strategic benefit. Anyway, The raid began at dusk. 8 Dutyers and myself rallied at the Duty farmstead. We loaded our rifles, dusted
our gas masks, and set out. I approached the main gate and shot the two guards with my sniper rifle. Then, I saw Max (a popular freedom stalker) and dropped him with
a burst to the torso. I signaled the advance and we rushed the bridge. As we crossed, one of the duty stalkers fell with a bullet wound to the neck. He screamed and
collapsed, writhing in panic. An anarchist sniper had hidden in the tower, and began to shoot at our men. I pulled out my groza, as the sniper began to back away
into cover. Unfortunately for him, I launched a grenade at his tower and he fell off of it screaming the whole way down. Just then, their alarm went off and they
took up positions in the buildings. There were only 7 of them (their numbers were still low from our last assault), so we could handle them. The idiots kept their
explosives and fuel in their living quarters, which made for quite a display of fireworks as we set off explosions through out their building. Smoke billowed out
of the door and windows as we began to clear them out. In the first room, there were two corpses and one anarchist. I dropped him with a burst to the throat, and
cried out and collapsed. Two duty stalkers followed me and we tossed grenades up the stairs, killing two more. Climbing up the stairs slowly, we turned the corner
and I leaned into the command room. Their acting commander (we had already killed Lukash) had apparently broken down, and was sitting the corner with a G36,
spraying random shots throughout the room. I tossed in a grenade and he was killed immediately. I approached the window accross the hall and saw one desperate
anarchist trying to escape. I had no time to use my rifle, so I shot at him with my Groza, but missed. He was about to turn the corner and leave the base
when I shot another burst and he collapsed sliding just out of my line of sight. As the duty members rounded up their guns, fuel and ammunition, I
followed the runner's path to find his body. He had been shot twice, penetrating his vest, but was still alive. He was crying out in agony, and
begged me to shoot him. I decided that he had suffered enough, and that he probably didn't know anything. I rested my foot on his neck, and put
one single groza shot through his head. His face relaxed and he seemed to shrink right before my eyes as the life left his body. I searched his
pack, and he had a message for the commander of the border. It said:
Attention Border Guards,
Apparently the Cultists are going to make a push for the warehouses, so be prepared. We are stretched thin, fighting off the fascists incessant
pushes for our base. That said, I can probably send 5 or 6 soldiers your way. As I'm sure you know, you're going to need them, the cultists don't
attack often, but when they do, it's intense. Therefore: make sure all of the guys lay off the vodka, and absolutely NO smoking.
Unfortunately, the border guards weren't going to get this message, or the reinforcements. They were totally screwed.
I can't continue this update, the monolith freaks are approaching. I'll need to wrap it up quickly. I approached the border, maybe I could do
something to prevent the Cultist assault. the Duty guys had finished their mission, and wanted to return to base. I knew there wasn't enough
time to tell Voronin about the attack, so the Anarchists were on their own. I approached the border, and saw a gruesome firefight. Cultists
shouted prophetic slogans, and the anarchists shouted desperate orders, so disorganized that all the achieved was to disorganize themselves.
Anyway, they were rapidly fading, when a horde of flesh came rushing from over the hills. They descended amongst the cultists and chaos ensued.
Panicking anarchists immediately broke and scattered, fleeing into the woods. As the flesh began to run thin, I decided to follow suit, only after
killing 3 cultists.
As I ran through the trees and over the hills (now under the moonlight), I accidentally bumped into someone. I panicked and reached for my
knife, grappling the new stalker.
He cried out, "Please, no! I'm with freedom, brother! It's me, Pasha!"
I continued to grapple with him, and attempted to stab his leg.
He pleaded again, "Look, man, we need to leave! Their coming, Please!"
Tragically enough, I plunged my knife through his pantleg and dug it deep into his thigh. He screamed out, and I heard the cultists begin to approach us.
I knew that I could no longer survive if he didn't so I threw him over my shoulder and ran as fast as I could. We lay down behind a wrecked car, and I
dressed his leg wound with my bandages. The gash wasn't too deep, so I had little trouble stopping the bleeding. Then, as he relaxed, I took his pack and
removed his pistol and his ammunition. I unloaded the pistol and threw it into the bushes. He didn't object, realizing that I was no comrade of his.
June 25, 2012
I just barely managed to get out of there! The cultist patrols kept creeping closer to our shelter, and I began to become panicked. The anarchist realized that
our situation was becoming dire. I knew that the cultists would find us eventually, and I knew what had to be done.
I looked at the anarchist: "Can you walk?"
"I think so, please, don't leave me here!"
"Then, walk, anarchist."
He began to walk ahead of me, and I followed him with my Groza at the ready. I scanned the horizons, careful to keep my eyes on the anarchist. As we continued on our way,
a group of cultists could be heard, less than 20 feet from our location. Then, the anarchist did the most insane thing ever! He bolted off, hobbling as fast as he could
away from the voices. I would have shot him, but decided to keep my cover. I sprinted ahead down the road towards the bar, but after 10 seconds passed, I heard the puff
noise of silenced weapons, and a horrendous scream. I assume that the anarchist had run straight into a cultist patrol. The poor fool, I suppose there was nothing to be done.
Even if I had got him out of there, he would have been held by Duty soldiers and interrogated endlessly. And, seeing as he was just a grunt, he probably wouldn't have known
anything about the plans of the anarchists, which made him a weight, which made him dead.
Anyway, I escaped the warehouse area and returned to the bar. I will admit, I'm still terribly shaken up by the whole affair. Those cultists are truly deranged. Unfortunately,
they stand between me and the north, which makes them a major problem.
June 27, 2012
It's all fucked, totally and completely fucked! The anarchists goddamn disappeared, with the exception of one or two who apparently missed the mass exodus. Duty took the warehouses,
and pacified most of the region. But down in Rostok and lower, it's practically anarchy! At least 10 different stalkers died over the last few nights, and no one has any idea how.
Naturally, people panicked and pointed fingers. It got pretty damn tense, but luckily didn't escalate into combat. Anyway, south of Rostok there is only death. After Duty at the garbage
collapsed, mutants ran wild! The devoured almost all of the loners. Even the bandits didn't stand a chance and they were all over the place down there! I can't pass through the garbage
without being attacked by at least 3 packs of dogs, and 1 of boars or flesh. It's a nightmare, a living, breathing nightmare.
Duty's stretched so thin that they've been pressing loners to guard their new territories, which obviously isn't working, and bloodsuckers just tore the poor bastards apart, fighting
for a cause they didn't believe in, just to preserve their lives. Even to the south, at the cordon, bloodsuckers tore apart the military checkpoint under the bridge and eventually tore
the rookie camp to bits. Sidrovich just managed to survive by locking his blast door and sitting down there for two days in a row, before he dared to open it. Luckily, the bloodsuckers
were halted at the exit of the zone, where the spetznaz soldiers were just barely able to hold them off.
I think the rumors were true: the zone is expanding.
July 1, 2012
If it was bad before, it's worse now. Sidrovich has died. The military began to purge all of cordon. The few rookies who survived the mutant flood were rounded up and shot. They lie
piled up along the road in piles that wreak of death. Sidrovich was apparently found hiding in a basement, and then executed for supplying Stalkers. Luckily, the military push
was halted at the garbage, where even they couldn't push through the mutant hordes without motorized support. But rumor has it that they have made considerable advances into the garbage
and may push through to the bar by the end of the week.
If that wasn't bad enough, the cultists annihilated Duty at the warehouses. There must have been hundreds of them, but they came through the barrier screaming and shooting, and completely
overwhelmed the garrison. They entered the bar area and have taken some of the buildings on the edge of Rostok. Duty has them at bay for now, but it certainly won't last. These following days
will certainly be my last, and the last of the zone as we know it.
July 6, 2012
This is the end, right before my eyes. The cultists occupy most of the buildings to the north of the bar, and have positioned snipers all over Rostok. The streets are impassable by day, and
risky by night. Duty opposition has turned into a desperate defense of their base and their general, leaving the general populace to die. Luckily for the few stalkers left, mutants began to pour
out of the wild territory and Warehouses after a searing white light came from the reactor, accompanied with intense heat and wind. These mutants created havoc for the monolith, but eventually poured
into the main area of rostok as well.
Also, the military has sent spetznas troops to set up a perimeter around the bar area, and are shooting all stalkers on sight. This amounts to them taking potshots all day and night at stalkers scrambling
from building to building at night, to avoid the cultist snipers. More seriously, though, it sets up a wall through which we cannot escape.
July 7, 2012
It's complete hell now! A cultist sniper shot one of the spetznas commanders in the throat last night, and he died the slowest, loudest death I have heard in all of my time in the zone. They launched a
retaliation with so much firepower that the zone itself shook from dawn until noon. Helicopters eviscerated buildings and stalkers alike as Soldiers stormed the streets with Abakans and rpgs. The cultists
are fighting back with NATO weapons and scattered sniper fire, with the occasional rocket at a helicopter. During all of this, bloodsuckers run about the fray, tearing throats of cultists, military and loners
Duty has closed the door to their compound and bolted it shut, hiding like rats in a cave, desperate to delay the inevitable end. I, along with most of the survivors barricaded myself in the bar. The doors are
shut, the vents closed, and now it's just a matter of time.
Private Sergiy Devushkin of the Ukrainian land force followed his squad leader into a cultist house. The squad threw their teargas grenades first, and followed with their AK74s, putting a burst into every one
of them who moved. As they finished clearing the first floor, they had to maneuver around the stairs. Sergiy was picked to lead. He braced himself, back to the wall, and spun around rapidly. He aimed at the top
of the stairs, and shot a trio of bullets into the head of a cultist leader. The man fell down the stairs, and sergiy's squad charged forward. As they pumped cultists full of bullets, they heard the cultist leaders
in a building north of their location come onto the loudspeaker and announce a retreat, supposedly to engage the ignorant ones in guerrilla warfare. That really got things moving.
Soldiers tried to barricade the exits to the north, but the cultists blew right through them, causing dozens of casualties. With the cultists escaping rapidly, the commanders of the quarantine operation began to shift
their focus to apprehending stalkers and confiscating radioactive artifacts. The squads ran through the buildings, tearing them apart in a search and destroy mindset.
Sergiy's squad would move up with another squad to clear out the 100 Rads Bar, a popular haunt among the stalker community, where as many as 20 stalkers had been seen entering and barricading themselves in. As they
approached, the laced the boarded shut door with explosives, and set up around the door to kill anyone dumb enough to run through the blast. As the doors detonated with a resounding thud, the squads rushed into the bar,
in a hail of automatic fire. The lights were flickering on and off, but the soldiers could clearly see a large group of docile and terrified men, hiding under tables and behind the bar counter. The barkeep was the one
to announce the surrender of all those present. The soldiers immediately shot the man in the head, as was procedure for dealing with suppliers of stalkers, and rounded up the other men. As they herded them outside, the
soldiers saw the defeat on their faces. These free spirited men, worrying only about themselves and their immediate associates, had finally been broken.
Once the prisoners were sent off to the designated prisoner drop, Sergiy's squad was ordered to seize all illegal artifacts and weaponry in the bar. They searched through chests, cabinets, and backpacks, turning up an
assortment of mundane artifacts that the scientific community already had plenty of samples of. They seized them anyway, and were about to leave when Sergiy spotted something in the back room. It was a glowing, pale blue
orb, dancing about subtly. Sergiy left his squad to confiscate the artifact, and, while checking the room for stalkers, he saw a man sitting on the couch, head back. There was a glaring shade of red splattered all over
the wall behind him, and a beretta in his hand, rested under his chin. The stalker had killed himself in the last moments of the bar, judging by his position. Sergiy approached the corpse and closed it's doll like eyes.
The head shifted with the pressure, and the Groza that had been resting against the man's pack collapsed to the floor, along with a PDA. Sergiy picked it up and browsed through the man's records, stopping at the end of the
last entry, effectively his suicide note.
I knew it would happen. Mankind is incapable of leaving anything, even the most natural, unevaluated or judged. His drive to politicize and justify every aspect of the world around him is, and will always be the
one thing holding him back from happiness. Order cannot be applied to nature or the human spirit, it's purely impossible. Likewise, there is no magical solution to all of our problems, no easy way out. I will now make my last
though that I enjoy within my human frame one of inhuman nature, without justification.
There is no solution to the natural behavior of human beings, no evaluations of humanity can ever create good or evil, only judgments, and now we see what judgment has done.
Stalkers, join duty. Protecting the world from the zone's evil is our common goal.