Author Topic: Winds of memories (Cata RP Character background stories)  (Read 2216 times)

0 Members and 0 Guests are viewing this topic.


  • **********
  • Posts: 2,312
  • Dapperness +20/-4
    • View Profile
Re: Winds of memories (Cata RP Character background stories)
« on: October 16, 2017, 11:15:19 pm »
Time: 2 years after the cataclysm
Characters: Alexei

Alexei was doing what he always did at this point, walking. Smoking a cigarette he saw an old establishment up ahead and figured he could find something to drink. Pushing through the door he started for the bottles lined up on the shelves of the old bar. No one else was here so he should be able to look in peace.

A few bottles of a couple different kinds of alcohol were found before he felt a barrel of a gun pressed against his back. The irish accent of the man was so strong Alexei rolled his eyes “Get up and tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”

Alexei stood up as he said “You like make car bombs?”

The man cursed Alexei as he grabbed his arm and swung him around to swing his pistol int-

He never got a chance to hit Alexei as the Obrez blew a hole through his chest. The others that had followed the man in shouted and started shooting as Alexei ducked behind the bar and holsted the Obrez to pull out his AK. Holding the weapon sideways he stood up and opened fire.

The firefight was short lived as he put them down with accurate fire. Once the last body fell he lowered his weapon and sighed. “Why do you always try and kill me!” He yelled at the body in front of him as he kicked the dead Irishman’s face.

Stopping himself after a couple of seconds he retrieved the bottle of whiskey and sighed. Opening it and pouring some into a whiskey glass he shook his head. Sipping the whiskey he looked at the carnage. Ten dead men. Ten rounds from his AK. How quickly lives ended. Downing the rest of the alcohol in the glass Alexei set the glass down and walked around the bar. Taking the bottle as he walked out he poured some of it out on the ground before marking next to the door with a piece of chalk.

Walking away he put the now closed bottle in his bag and sang a song he’d heard his brother sing one time when he’d gotten back from the military. Reloading his weapons he saw the glowing eyes peering out of the darkness and looked up to see the sun beginning to set.

“Lord guide my hand, oh hear your wayward son.” He sang before turning to open fire as the ghost town was consumed by the dark night.

“Won’t you hear this son far from his homeland.”