#General Hawk

You guys have no idea how much I wanted to buy from you, but unfortiently you didn't have any Singapor servers available. :L I had to buy from 'Survival Servers'. :c

Hes preparing for the Stand Alone, where he can finally achive his one true dream - shitting in the woods. ;)

Aww, even mine? </3

BUMB. AM I COOL YET?

Oh, really? I'll try that out now, thank's bro. :)

Unfortiently, I like to take some things slow, this being one of them. I was doing this fro maybe 10-30 minutes each day, probably more, but then again I'm not that skilled at Photoshop and this was my first ever attempt at drawing something in it. But thank's bro. :D

.357 is a common caliber, I know a few rilfes that use it. Also, 44. Magnum all the way bros. (if they do, which they wont until Stand Alone, if that at all, it should have an 8" barrel like the one I own ;D )

Those two I made myself. The second one that I had listed, I created a long time ago, back when DayZ allowed us to access the editor with -DayZ Mounted-, the easy way to do it is to down-grade your DayZ files to around 1.2.0, you could probably go a bit higher, but nothing above 1.2.7. The second one, on the other hand, was made using the awesome, but very complicated (at first) 3D editor within ArmA 2. To access the 3D editor, which is simular to the 2D editor (the base one that everyone uses), press "Ctrl + E" at the main menu. If it's not that, try Shift + E. I suggest watching some tutorials on how to use it, as it is complicated, and quite a bit harder than the normal 2D editor, but the 3D provides a lot more 'flexability' in what you can and cannot do, and allows you to create scenes easily that the 2D editor would not. (<Well, not very easily that is). If you want some more information about it, just say so. :P

You mean like these?

Welcome to the one place where hell froze over. In-case you're wondering why I posted it here, and not in the stickyed art thread, it was because I didn't want it to be lost amungst everything else. I actually worked hard on this, 1-2 days maybe (on and off constantly). The background, was just a screenshot of Namalsk, but the guy himself was completely hand-drawn by myself. If you dislike that verson, here is an alternative: And this is the guy on his own, but this version was an old unfinished one. Do excuse him looking 'fabulous' ;) For what ever reason, it wont let me post the pictures. :L

Thanks. And if anyone is wondering why he called me "Raptor Jesus", that is because of my FaceBook page (http://www.facebook.com/Raptor.Chesus) in which usually get a bunch of my fans together so we can play a game together, lately it's been mainly DayZ. :P

So, the ones below 14-18 get gore, but no zombies? If you were to happen, it would literally be "DayZ the Walking Simulator". Yay.

I did not have fraps on at the time, so all I can share is words. Another DayZ story by Raptor Jesus: The Hunger Games. It was a lovely day really, the 20 people on the server seemed to be nice, most of them took to the forests which kept zombie spawns down, and most of them were really nice people, I know this because I've played with most of them. My friend and I were heading to Cherno, we were on a private hive at this point so we didn't have all of our guns and such, anyway, we were scanning the outskirts when we noticed a single man standing in the middle of Cherno, it was odd to say that no zombies had spawned around him. We ignored him, and then flanked around to the back of the city, so we could quickly search the military tents. There was nothing in the city, even the hospital was cleaned out, the streets were quiet and not a single zombie was in sight, my friend and I simply shrugged it off whilst thinking that it was a despawn of sorts, which meant another player was int he city with us. We decided to hunt for him, because unfortunately we were nearly out of food, water, and ammo. After 5 minutes, we spotted him, a lone survivor sitting in the middle of the road, he had no gear besides what looked to be an Alice pack, he was an easy target. We approached him from behind, and aimed our guns at him, I said "alright mate, I want you to stand up, kneel down and drop all your food", he responded with this; "sure thing bud, but first you have to catch me". So then he rose up, and began to run. We chased him around the city before he darted into a small warehouse, it only had one enterence (the others had been barricaded) so he was trapped, we were close to our food. We both injected ourselves into the building, scanning left and rights in search for him, he was no where to be seen. Somehow, he had escaped. But we were persistent, we went deeper into the building. We were puzzled, he was gone, and then all of a sudden it began to rain outside, the sun vanished as darkness took over, at this point we were certain that this server was bugged or something, but that was not the case. From behind us, the large metal doors leading into the building swung open, we both span around with our weapons drawn, aiming at the door way. My friend took a step forward, and then his legs instantly broke, he had stepped on a bear trap. He freaked out, and so did I, we threw out a single flare to light up the building to see what the fuck was going on. To our surprise, the entire floor had a nice coat of bear trap. What I mean, is that the entire floor, was covered in armed bear traps, we had been locked in here like animals with no escape. My friend crawled back to me as I watched the door, he administered our last stick of morphine that he grabbed out of my backpack, we argued with each other whilst working out how we would escape. Then the lightning struck, a massive boom is heard followed by a voice - "you have 2 options. Option 1, is you agree to come with me and 'participate' in a game show. Option 2, is death". "Fuck off" said my friend in an aggressive tone, I quickly shut him up and then responded with "explain option 1 again!?". The voice returned, this time in a calm tone saying "well, you agree to participate in my tv game show, 20 contestants will be placed in an area somewhere in the middle of the forest, weapons will be scattered across the area along with food and water. You have no friends in that arena, you must kill or be killed, the last man standing receives what ever he likes, weapons, vehicles, anything he will ever need". We both sighed, then agreed. He teleported us into the middle of a forest, all 20 of us stood in a circle, the area was lite up by flares and helicopter spotlights. I knew almost everyone here, I've played with each of them, they are all my family. Everyone was yelling at each other at this point, we always talked over direct chat to increase immersion, anyway, some people wanted to abort, but they couldn't for some reason, some people were saying how they wont shoot anyone if they don't shoot them, I just stood there assessing the situation, taking note on who to look out for. The strange voice returned, he shouted "WELCOME, to the second ever Hunger Games. Most of you are here because you were in the wrong place, or the wrong server simply at the wrong time, some of you are here because I believe that you could survive this, Raptor Jesus will be our special guest, I suggest you all take him out first". That was when things had gotten creepy, this guy knew me, he had been stalking me for awhile now just waiting for me to enter a server with enough people. "The rules are simple, you kill or be killed, you can chose to team up with someone if you can trust them, but in the end if it is just you two remaining, you will be forced to kill each other. The games will begin in 5 minutes, if you step off the area you spawned in, you will be killed. There are weapons in the center of the circle", he had his buddies now throw flares into the circle, revealing a gold mine of weapons, M16's, DMR's, even a lone AS50, but the thing I spotted first was the Crossbow... There was more yelling, people began to freak out, one guy even screamed "fuck this!" and then started running, his actions caused 3 others to do the same. They got about 5 feet before the helicopters opened fire, killing every single person who decided to run. We were all quiet then, just waiting for the games to begin. I turned and looked at my mate, who was already staring at me, he was on the other side of the circle, I didn't know his name as we had met up in this server. We started playing together around 5 hours before hand, and had survived quite a bit, we formed the "hunting buddies" bond. I could tell he was scared, he was looking all over the place, searching for a way out, I had hoped that he would just run backwards into the forest the second the games started, that way I would have known that he would be safe. Everyone here was good at base ArmA 2, which made every single one of them very dangerous with guns, I would have to get in and out with a weapon as quickly as possible, which was exactly what I was about to do. "3.." "2..." "1...", a massive boom is heard and everyone darts to the center of the circle. My eyes were locked onto that Crossbow, it only had one bolt in it which was a problem, but it would make do. Myself along with 3 other players were the first to reach the center, I picked up the crossbow, a Czech backpack, and then ran out. There were no gunshots at first, some of the guns had no ammo in them I guess. I had reached the treeline just as the first shot had been fired, then another, then another, then bullets were flying everywhere, the sound of screaming and cursing filled the air, I looked back to see my friend, the only one with camo clothing getting shot by a Winchester. I went prone at the treeline, rolled behind a tree for cover and watched my friend attempt to crawl away. He was nearly at the treeline, everyone had ignored him besides one asshole with a hatchet. I jumped to my feet, and ran deeper into the forest, watching behind me as my friend was butchered to death. The sound of a grenade going off was heard, it was louder though, similar to a thunder strike, what ever it was it was cleverly scripted to go off when a player died. I had gotten away from everyone else, I couldn't hear gunshots anymore, well besides every now and then followed by the "player had died" text that appeared on the bottom left corner of my screen. I took a seat, and checked what was in my backpack. All that was there, was a hunting knife, matches, no hatchet and an empty canteen and 4 bear traps. I was already hungry, and thirsty, but luckily that was a river next to me. That river, was the only one around, it was the only way to get water, so that was where I set up my trap. I didn't want to kill others, but I had to, there was a single piece of cover near that lake - a broken stone wall, so I set up a bear trap there, I had set another ontop of a dead body resting next to the lake, the third and fourth one I set up next to a pre-made tent. Then I waited, prone, starving, my crossbow ready, half an hour had passed before someone darted out of the forest, heading towards the lake. I followed him with my crossbow, ready to place a bolt in his skull. He ran to the dead body, and imidently triggered the bear trap, he fell to the ground and attempted to crawl away. YOu might be asking, why did I not kill him then? Because he was the next part of my trap. He crawled, and crawled, before I saw 2 people emerge from the woods, heading strait for him. They had guns, one had a DMR and the other had an M16, those guns would soon me mine. They walked up to the injured man, and then they shot him dead. The one with the DMR knelled down the take the dead mans stuff, so that was my opportunity. I aimed, and fired, the crossbow bolt luckily smashed into the side of the mans head, he dropped the the ground as his friend darted for cover - the only piece of cover was the stone wall. He did was I had predicted, he ran to the wall and stepped on a bear trap, the sound of bones snapping exploaded into the air. I quickly ran to the dead guy with the DMR, took his gun and then darted back into the forest, waiting for the M16 guy to stick his head out. I waited there for 15 minutes before he yelled "who ever you are don't fucking shoot man, I'm friendly", he wasn't that friendly when he shot that injured survivor, but I recognized that voice, it was Ted, one of my old friends. I talked to him, and he talked back, then we chose to team up, he didn't care much about the guy I had killed anyway. Over the next 2 hours, Ted and I had hunted down and killed 7 other players, everyone had killed eachother leaving Ted, myself and my close friend Fireburd. It took only 15 minutes for Ted and I to track down Fireburd, he was just sitting down in the middle of the starting circle, he had no guns or anything. It wasn't a trap, Fireburd was good with a gun but shit at planning stuff, so we approached him. He simply said "just fucking kill me, I've killed so many good friends tonight, I don't even want the fucking prizes anymore". Ted and I, sat down next to him, and just talked with him for awhile. Fireburd then demanded we finish him off, so we did so. It was a sad moment when we heard that 'boom' sound, it was just Ted and myself remaining. We turned to eachother and lowered our guns. The voice had returned, saying "well boys, it has been a long day and you two are the last remaining survivors! Only problem, is there can only be one hahaha!" he laughed at us, and then demanded we shoot eachother. Ted stated that he wanted to live, his 40 day old character wasn't ready to die, Ted was no longer my friend, he was just another target. We both raised our guns at the same time, we didn't fire at first though, we just stared, waiting for someone to pull the trigger first. It was intense, we had been good mates for a long time, never before had I killed someone like this, but as always, man kind will do what ever it takes to survive, Ted shot first. I knew he was about to fire, so I pressed my "E" key and lent to the side, his bullets wizzed past my head. He was out of ammo, I was not. "CONGRATULATIONS, Raptor Jesus, you have survived the Hunger Games! I wasn't expecting you do kill your friends like that, but you are a true survivor, name your prize!". I just looked up to where the voice was coming from, and said "go fuck yourself". I then disconnected, closed ArmA 2, and began to write this.

Was 42 days old. Lost a 51 day old character a while back to a haxor nuke. >:C

So, yeah, dunno really what happened today - all I know is that balls were tripped. If can work out the sercret about this video, then you've actually looked. ;)

rlly ?

My my, another legit player who prefers the M107 over the AS50. :D I have 2 at my camp, but current;y no SVD's, so I'll trade with you if you like. I am a Hero in game, so theres no reason to shoot/not trust me. Just pm the server and such, and I'll make my way towards my camp and get my M107 for trading (got my M24, because it's more accurate and my 2nd fav gun behind the M107). We dislike Satchel charges, so I'll give you 6 mags for it if you like, but I do not want the charge. :P

Hahahahah.

"Plot; 2 years into the outbreak, 3 years before the events of The Outbreak. We are here surviving still... The state border into Colorado from Kansas on I-70 has been fortified by what is left of the US Government. The city of Denver is burning and the infection is spreading. Riots have begun all over the country as the realization of containing the virus cannot be done. All oversee military forces have been recalled, and every state national guard have taken to the streets. The President has begun fortifying the remaining major city centers that have yet to be infected... The beginning of the end has started. Many US Forces have restricted movement between the Colorado/Kansas border due to much of Kansas remaining intact from the virus. A long screening process must be done before anyone;woman, children, and men, are able to move into Kansas where relief settlements are being setup. Refuge camps are popping up all around the I-70 highway in Colorado, especially in Burlington, Colorado in hopes to begin the process to safety on the other side of the border. The process is so backed up to the point an average family of 3-4 would take up to 2 weeks to be registered into a refuge camp, screened for the virus, all weapons taken, and all files and documentation reviewed. The problem is, so many Colorado families and surrounding states attempting to cross this single line lost their IDs, social security cards, and other important documents while fleeing the first year of the outbreak. The result is illegal trafficking, border crosses, and rebellion against the government and security forces established on the border. By the the time you reach the large and expanding refuge camps and the border, an estimated 10,000 civilians have been fired upon by local police and military forces attempting to contain everyone. You find out upon arrival that the state of Colorado has declared Martial Law and that I-70 is now to be locked down by military patrols. Anyone resisting arrest will be assumed to have the virus and shot. Bandits and thieves have integrated into the refuge camps and nothing is ever done to stop them. If you are not directly near the border you are not safe... Many US military forces have been deployed toward Denver to slow down the advancing undead and other hostile people. Others attempt raids into the city to take advantage of the turmoil. Random survivors, chosen by fate to survive come together in the most unlikely of times to reveal the harsh nature of man, and the bond between a family that will break the darkest minds."__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ ____ Chapter 0(prelude): Friendship is not owner ship (All written by myself, #General Hawk) Suddenly, an slight feeling of moister clouds Hawks face. Hawks eyes open, in-front of him sits his friend Sam as she retracts he head just after a successful nose-dive bomb which woke her friend up. A smile creeps across the mans face as he places his right and on the dog and beings to scratch at it's neck. Hawk and his dog stay in the tent for about half an hour before deciding it was time to fetch some water. The tent opens up as it's front door's zip is dragged towards the ground, the memorable 'zzzzip' sound is heard. Hawk emerges from the tent, his right hand covering his face as he adapts to the sunlight breaking through the thick trees towering above him. They had decided to camp out in the middle of some forest, in a nice spot too. The towering trees protected them from the rain along with the harsh wind, and the thick shrubbery around the camp site provided cover. That cover was needed as their choice of shelter wasn't so wise, it was a 4-6 man tent with bright yellow and blue stripes along the side of it, but it kept them protected and warm during the night. A deep in-hail followed by a smirk as the fresh, damp air fills Hawk lungs, he closes his eyes and looked to the sky as the rising sun belts warmth into his face. With a flick of his wrist, the sparks ignited upon the thin pieces of dried out grass, causing a small flame to combust. Hawk knelt over the makeshift fire place, and began to breath in and out slowly, feeding the flame and nursing it to health, allowing to it consume the wood provided. With the fire going, embers shot up into the air as a wave of warmth surged through the air, after a few minutes, Hawk began to stop shivering, and the frosty air he exhaled stopped. Sam joined him besides the fire, she had a nice pre-made bed that was crafted using thin leaves and 'vines' that had been intertwined to create a nice pattern. They both licked their lips in an attempt to revive their dry mouths, the burden of thirst was creeping into their body. "Ha, these plastic tarps better have worked" said Hawk as he stands to his feet and walks towards 5 blue, plastic tarps that had been hung from a few trees, the tarps were wrapped like a funnel with a small bucket resting just under the horizontal opening, allowing the few, tiny drops of the early morning mountain dew to drip down and form into tiny puddles of water in the containers. "They worked, I guess", after pouring all the water from each bucket into a bottle, they could see that they only had 3 inches of water in a 125ml bottle. "Well fuck. Here, you drink this, I'll go out and search for a water source", Hawk poured the water into a small, silver bowel with "K-19 Sam" engraved onto the side of it. Sam walked over, and slowly began to lap up the water. "I'll be back in 3 hours, if I'm not back by then, just go" whispers Hawk as he slings his Crossbow over his shoulder and he clips his tomahawk onto his belt. Stepping over his traps, and weaving through the thick under brush, Hawk sets out into the forest. The sound of 1000 animals desperately searching for a mate fills the air, the birds belt out tunes whilst the crickets make their location known. "Where are you..." whispers the man as he darts his eyes back and fourth, scanning for his future. From his right, the sound of a snapping branch catches his attention, his spins to the sound and raises his Crossbow. "Got you.." the sound of screeching leather sends a strange feeling through Hawk as he begins to squeeze the trigger. "Wind, none. Distance, 120 meters" a large crack fills the air as the string is released, the tensions forcing the bolt attached to be plunged forward faster than his eye can pick up. The bolt dashes through the air, slicing the air and leaves in it's path as it homes into its target. The sounds of slicing flesh, and a hard impact is heard as the bolt plunges into the deers side, the bolts tip slicing through the ribs and into the lungs of the creature, blood begins to flood the major organs as the deer attempts to flee. It only gets a few feet before it's neck is filled with blood, and it's brain begins to freak out causing it to shut down most of the deers vital organs, the deer drops to the ground. 5 minutes pass, no movement comes from the deer, it lays there in the grass covered in blood as the flies begin to move into their new home. The sound of panting is heard as a dark beast emerges from the think brush, heading towards the corpse. A grey wolf, ironically it's fur color was a dark brown, was now sinking it's teeth into the deer. With slow movements, the crossbow once again arises from the darkness, Hawk thinks "I knew you'd fucking show up..", Hawk takes in a deep breath before aiming at the wolf, he slowly pulls the trigger. Just as Hawk fires, his hand twitches, causing his aim to go off by only a few center meters. But that was all it took, the bolt misses the lone wolf as it jumps backwards, locking eye contact with it's attacked. It pauses for a few moments before realizing that it 'remembers' this creature, the one that had hunted his family. The wolf snarls, growls and raises its lips to intimidate Hawk, but that doesn't work, the hunter arises to his feet, standing above the wolf, keeping eye contact and waiting. Minutes pass, which seem like hours before one of them makes a move, the wolf charges. Hawk reaches for his tomahawk in an attempt to arm himself, as if fate was against him, some shrubbery had gotten stuck in the clip, making the removal of the weapon difficult. Hawk gives up, turning his head towards the wolf that was now only a few feet from him. "Fuck" Hawk says desperately as he reaches for his knife, drawing it from it's shoulder holster. The wolf launches at Hawk, using it's strong back legs to catapult itself towards it's hunter, (will be continuing this later) __________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ ____ Chapter 1: A begining towards an end (first part written by 'Riji117', second paragragh and last half written by 'Reborich') Day 429 since the end began - Sgt. Gonzales walks down the streets of Burlington. Large groups of people gather around posts the military have set up for relief efforts distributing food to those who needed it. It was high end rationing as MRE production began to be saved for the military. The sick were quarantined into a caged off area south of the town on the other end of I-70. An elderly man walks up to Gonzales shaking,"Please, can you help me?" he stutters out barely able to walk. He was weak, it was apparent in not only his physic but in his eyes. "I, I can't find my grandson. He was with me, then he..." He paused a moment to cough, I didn't react much. The weak were allowed to at least cough and not be cuffed and taken away. "Sir, I'm sorry." I point down the road to an Stryker stopped a ways down. It was surrounded by a platoon of US Army troops. "They're MPs, they'll be able to help." The man shook more, but nodded walking off. I couldn't help I was off duty and trying to get something to eat myself. The sight of children suffering and people with constant terror in their eyes. What had the world come to? Goose bumps began to race up and down his body as the cold of the Colorado mountain air began to pool in the small ravine. Hands slightly shaking and breathe smoking from his lungs, he reaches for his Cold Steel SRK San Mai III survival knife. Gaining purchase, he pulls from his EDC pouch a fire steel and begins to strike it with the back of the knife blade. Instantly a shower of hot sparks lick at the birds nest made of dry grass, aspen bark and 100% cotton ball soaked in Vaseline. The fire leaped to life and began to do a lazy dance of flame. Rick looked into the fire, hypnotized by its inviting warmth and security. Grabbing small twigs and a couple of split logs of wood he had bantoned with his SRK and a small log as a mallet, he begins to build a modest fire while sitting with his back to a large confer tree with limbs draping merely three feet from the ground. The flames provided a movie of shapes and shadows as they played upon the rock walls of the ravine. “Damn, today was a close call… I should have known better”, he muttered in his mind as he looked upon a deep gash in his hand. Replaying the incident, being sure to learn from his mistake, “what did I do wrong? I cleared the field, cleared the house, still she found me.” Rick stood up to stretch his sore leg muscles and began to hop a bit to circulate his blood. Then he heard it, “DAMIT, that’s what it was”, as Rick grabbed the US 2 qt canteen from the pouch on his belt. He shook it as the water inside sloshed audibly loud, “this damn canteen nearly cost me my life”, he thought to himself. Sitting back down by the fire, opening his canteen, he gingerly poured the cold liquid over the gash. Grimacing from the sensation of pain and cold mixed, Rick could see that the gash will require stitches. Wasting no time and with the use of a home made surgical kit, he begins to sew the wound. “Slow, methodical…NOT to fast Rick”, he coached himself as he crawls, prone, towards the squad car. Zed’s moaning, shrieking and gibbering as they slink along in an eternal void of resurrected infected decomposing flesh on the I-70 road block next to a wall of confer trees. Ever so slightly, Rick continues to shorten the distance between him and the open door to the squad car while skimming the black asphalt highway. Still seat belted in the driver seat sits a dead state trooper with an extra eye, neatly in between his two open eyes and gaping mouth, frozen in a grimace of exertion. Flies swirl the body, in and out of his mouth, building new nest and laying eggs in his nose and ear canals. Hanging out of the vehicle on his left side is the recognized Glock 17 9mm pistol, still sheathed and beckoning, no, daring Rick to come get it. Slowly, Rick pushes with one foot and reaches with the opposite elbow, lifting himself and sliding forward, slowly, while scanning each zombie within ear shot. “Almost there….” Rick whispered in his head as if the Zeds would hear his thoughts as screams in the night. Gently, Rick reaches up and while closing his eyes as if to prepare for impact, his thumb on his right hand pushes the snap release on the holster retention strap. “Click”, he nervously scans for any sign that the noise has been heard. The zombies nearby continue to aimlessly, without care, search oblivion for their next hot bloody meal. Unsheathing the Glock, “Thank goodness this cop was a south paw!” Rick states to himself as he admires his new found friend. Placing the Glock in the front of his worn M65 field jacket, he reaches back up for the two magazines standing proudly in their black leather perches on the trooper’s right front side. Quickly unsnapping the pouches, he retrieves the two 17 round magazines full of Gold Dot 124 + P JHP 9mm ammunition. As he was pulling his hand back from the lap of the trooper, his hand grazed the butt cap of a steel collapsible baton. “I better grab that as well, could come in handy”, Rick rationalizes as he reaches back in to grab the baton just as a Zed makes that usual noise when the gig is up, “FUCK!” Rick mutters as he rips the baton from the police belt causing the baton to snap to life in full extension. The Male Zombie wasted no time in whirling around, drool and blood spewed like 5000 mile old car oil as he announced dinner has been served. Rick jumped to his feet and swings his left arm in a wide arch, now holding the baton, with all his might connecting with the Zombie’s jaw. The crack of and splinter of bone and teeth sounded like a shotgun blast as the Zed gurgles and chokes on its own dislocated teeth while head diving into the rear wheel of the squad car, howling from the loss of its luck. Other zombies, trained into the sound, begin to run toward Rick. Instantly his military training kicks in as his right hand yanks the Glock 17 from its resting place. Instinctively, Rick’s Left hand grabs the cold black slide of the 9mm pistol, racking the slide, chambering a 9mm hornet. BOOM! Goes the first round flying like an angry yellow jacket chewing a tunnel through the forehead of a female Zed. The Gold Dot JHP did exactly as designed, condensing air into the hollow point cavity that expanded with fury after impact ripping the back of her skull off into several pieces, spraying a dark black liquid mist into the air. Ragdoll, she collapses mere feet from Rick. Scanning the area, Zeds are gaining ground, “I just got this damn thing and I can NOT use all this ammo!”, Rick mutters out loud. Grabbing the baton he dropped in order to get the Glock into battery, he quickly reaches in and yanks on the trunk lever of the car. “Pop” goes the trunk as he makes a dash for the back of the squad car. As the trunk opens, he sees a black case, a backpack and what looks to be a Kevlar vest. Milliseconds pass and Rick has the vest loosely on, left hand carrying baton and bag while slinging the back pack over his right shoulder. Running, Rick crosses the road and back into the woods with Zombies in tow. Running in the woods is tough, and soon he is exhausted. He starts to trip on the bramble, but it looks like the zeds are far behind. Then, coming out from the cover of foliage, a terrified child of about 9 appears. Searching for the source of his fear, Rick sees a gaping wound on his leg. They abandoned him once he's been bit, he thought. "Shit," Rick says to himself. Then, out loud, "I can't help you, I'm sorry". But even as Rick was moving away, looking around to make sure no Zeds were around, the little boy moved closer, demanding his help with unspoken words. Up, up the trees, past the trunks, branches, and leaves, sat Wilson. He watched intently, hand on the string that would pull up the net, enveloping whoever was unlucky enough in its deadly embrace. He was content to sacrifice his child for what looked to be a whole lot of guns if that was necessary. It would be better if the man, his next victim, would lead them to his camp, but he had enough on himself to justify killing him. His compatriots sat in the branches around him, waiting to descend upon their newest prey. One of them had a fresh wound acquired while hunting deer. A wound that wasn't healing fast enough. A wound that got a single drop of blood out from the makeshift bandages. A drop that landed right on Rick's outstretched hand, the hand just about to reach for the boy. It took exactly three seconds for Rick to understand. It's an ambush! He took off with renewed vigor, going in a direction he hoped led away from Zeds and humans alike. Wilson's fellow bandits (although he was the leader) stared gaping at their unsuccessful attempt, wondering what gave them away. They sat rooted to the spot. "Well?" Wilson asked. "What are you fools waiting for? Go get him!" His words sparked them to life and the group of 4 slid down the vine they made and went off in hot pursuit of the man with many guns. Wilson spared the time to slap his dying boy in the face. "You weren't convincing enough!" Rick’s mind raced as the blood in his skull pounded like a blacksmith working harden steel. “Too many of them!” yelled Rick to himself in his mind. Exhaustion, a permanent of Murphy’s law, always catches the older guys first before the younger ones. Rick jams the baton into his left pants pocket forcing it to collapse in submission. Still slowing while jumping over brambles and rocks, “I have to lighten my load and quick”, he exclaimed silently. Breathing hard, he rips the black case zipper in his left hand open and sees the butt stock of a rifle; it begins to slip from its perch as he continues to run. Soon shouts erupt from behind him. Then, a crack and a pop, he knows this sound from his time as a Marine scout sniper during his many tours in the terrorist wars of the late twentieth century. The bullet zinged past and smashed into a tree on his right showering splinters into his face, “Son of Bitch” he shrieks! Left hand stabs the black case with a right hand yanking off the case. Rick grabs the sling of the assault rifle and throws it over his back. He begins to zig zag, lowers his posture and grabs the Glock from his jacket. Rounding a tree he slows down and waits. The second bullet impacted before the report of the weapon could be heard. A searing burning finger seemed to scorch Rick’s left arm. Swallowing the pain he spins left and sees a man hobbling toward him, bloody bandages soaked on his right leg, murder written like a neon sign on his face. The Glock coughed twice, two angry hornets raced through the confers and aspens searching for their intended target. Rick hears the impacts as the bullets rip through the wounded man’s chest, he crumples, dead before he hits the ground. Rick bolts, running and zig sagging between trees. Heart in his throat as curses erupt behind him, KILL that mother fucker, he got John! Rick hears another single crack and pop behind him, wondering if the bullet was intended for him or for John who would soon be among the drooling dead who now rule the planet domain. Anticipating another impact, adrenaline racing through his veins, he sees a stream ahead and makes a desperate decision. As he approaches the stream, he sees a fallen tree lying alongside the stream bank. With out hesitation, he unslings the rifle and tosses it into the stream some 25 yards from the tree and dives in. The bitter cold of the water knocks the remaining air from his burning heaving chest as if being kicked in the chest by a stubborn and scorned mule. His lungs scream for air as he gasps. Struggling against the current, he slides up against the bank under the tree, shiverng, waiting, longing as he his eyes become fixed on the black rifle sitting in two feet of pristine mountain runoff. The first of the remaining three bandits leaped over his head into the water thrashing toward the rifle. The Glock smiled as another hornet issued from its mouth of death. The JHP slammed into the bandit’s neck with an audible crack, instantly the bandit went stiff as board and Rick realized that the man’s neck was broken on impact of the bullet. Paralyzed and now gurgling as he sinks to the bottom of the frigid red tainted torrent, his sunken body swiftly glides by Rick, eyes wide in stunned panic and fear, body like a ragdoll, unmovable and severed from its cerebral cortex. Soaking wet and cold, as the sun began to set in the West, Rick’s legs began to burn with lactic acid build up, threatening to quit on him. He began to feel warm and wanted to sleep, sure signs that hypothermia was setting in. He could still hear the running footsteps chewing at leaves and dead branches with the occasionally scuff of boots against rock or bramble. The Arsenal Ak 106 assault rifle chambered in 5.56mm drained stream water like sweat as Rick forced his body to kick in more adrenaline. He had been in a similar situation before in the early 1990’s, chasing scud missiles in Desert Shield along with Seal Team 6. They had received Intel that a scud launch was probable in a once cleared village deep in the deserts of Iraq. After the chopper dropped the seal team, himself and his spotter, they traveled nearly 10 clicks to the AO. Once in position, Rick mounted the Barrett .50 cal sniper weapon, held his breathe as his spotter whispered a shooting solution. The anti-material rifle punched Rick in the shoulder and spewed a mini explosion from its mouth in complete defiance of Jihad and the existence of terrorist. The 750 grain HE round tore through the tip of the scud missile, detonation ensued, the scud seemed to vaporize in a cloud of fire with shrapnel ripping and screaming death through the air as the shock wave of the blast caused Rick to grunt from the impact. An immediate response was met with AK 47 rounds raining down upon their position. One bullet slammed into the side of his spotter’s right leg, screaming and writhing in pain, Rick yanked the bolt from the receiver of the .50 cal rifle and shot a 9mm slug trough the optics. “Let’s Go!!” he yelled as he grabbed Sgt. Stevens and slung him over his back. The seal team opened up with deadly controlled chaos and violence. Screams and explosion seem to ricochet amongst the dunes as Rick ran with all his might. Seal members began to peel back, slapping each other on the shoulder as they followed the Marine sniper team into the burning horizon. Jeeps and ½ ton vehicles seem to materialize out of nowhere. “Get those DAMN choppers in here NOW! Or we are all DEAD!!” barked the CO of Seal team 6 into the radio receiver. “MOVE, MOVE, MOVE” the CO yelled as seals emptied M4 carbine mags which seem to litter the ground leaving a trail easily followed. Rick began to claw his way up a dune slope, struggling, heart racing, Sgt. Stevens limp and unresponsive, hanging dead weight for the scout sniper to haul on hand and knees. Without warning, twin UH-64 Blackhawks screamed over Rick’s head with door gunners shredding the oncoming horde of enemy soldiers with lead and tracers that whine and bounced, showering sparks, flesh, explosions in all directions. Sand swirled, Rick’s mind began to swim with the noise of rotor blades, gun fire and RPG rounds cratering around the squad. Rick’s mind began to slip, he felt he was losing his footing, falling…… Rick’s mind snapped back as he tripped over a rock, sending him sprawling, tumbling down a deep ravine. “OH SHITTTT!!!” he screamed in his mind as the reality of his fall became full view. His jacket began to flutter slightly as his body began to float, so it seemed in mid air, accelerating the 50 foot decent into the rocky ravine, holding a pristine pond at the bottom. SPLASH!! Erupted into his ears as he hit the surface of the water, causing the AK 106 to wrench itself free from Rick’s grip and mule kicked him in the face with its butt stock. Wilson stared at his fallen comrade just long enough for the reality to sink in.. without those guns, he was screwed. And also Michael being gone, leaving him, Brad, and Cedric back at camp. He didn't even think of his own child, surrounded by Zeds now anyway. Then, with a mighty snap back to reality, Wilson jumped into the river. He hoped Brad followed. Bullets don't penetrate water, he reasoned. Wilson peeked out of the water for a heaving breath and saw the man scrambling up the slope, heading for the evergreens.Several moments later he climbed up the bank and drained the water from his Taurus. He looked back to check that Brad was following-which he was- and started running up the mountain in the footsteps of a failed ambush, following a clear trail. __________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ ____ __________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ ____-CLASSED AS 'SPOILER' SIMPLY TO SAVE SPACE. :P

So on my Facebook page Raptor Jesus (http://www.facebook.com/Raptor.Chesus) I constantly post stories of my adventures in DaYZ, and usually set up this "Raptor Jesus Rescue Force", where we fly around in our chopper guarding our convoy of vehicals that goes around handing out supplies to survivors on our resident server (AU #900 ;D). This is just a collection of some of the stories I've posted there, and I figgured it was time to share them here on the forum. (Video of the first DayZ RJ Fan Gathering, before had the chopper http://youtu.be/vp0tSxjWs2M?hd=1) SELF ADVERSISMENT; I'm working on a short film in DayZ, well, really the ArmA 2 OA editor but it's based in the DayZ world http://youtu.be/XEPs48RaZ64?hd=1 I new trailer for this, or more of a 'teaser' will be released later today/tonight ;D). Marked as "spoilers" to save space on the forum. :P STORY 1; THE ELEKTRO BANDITS. STORY 2; HOW I SAVED MY, ALONG WITH MY TEAMS LIFE DURING A CHOPPER CRASH. One of my very old stories;

-reserved-

CONTINUED HERE, CLASSED AS SPOILER TO SAVE SPACE. :P

Only difference is that I have a 3mildot Red Dot Sight. </3 (also if it looks slightly different, that's because I'm not going to lock the string in due to the risk of dry firing it, also cbf firing it afterwards so. ;))

So on my Facebook page Raptor Jesus (http://www.facebook.com/Raptor.Chesus) I constantly post stories of my adventures in DaYZ, and usually set up this "Raptor Jesus Rescue Force", where we fly around in our chopper guarding our convoy of vehicals that goes around handing out supplies to survivors on our resident server (AU #900 ;D). This is just a collection of some of the stories I've posted there, and I figgured it was time to share them here on the forum. (Video of the first DayZ RJ Fan Gathering, before had the chopper )SELF ADVERSISMENT; I'm working on a short film in DayZ, well, really the ArmA 2 OA editor but it's based in the DayZ world http://youtu.be/XEPs48RaZ64?hd=1 I new trailer for this, or more of a 'teaser' will be released later today/tonight ;D) STORY 1; THE ELEKTRO BANDITS. STORY 2; HOW I SAVED MY, ALONG WITH MY TEAMS LIFE DURING A CHOPPER CRASH. One of my very old stories;