S.T.A.L.K.E.R. - Frontier Ukraine IC

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S.T.A.L.K.E.R.
Frontier Ukraine

OOC:

http://roleplayerguild.com/showthread.php?189610-S-T-A-L-K-E-R-Frontier-Ukraine

1986, Pripyat, Ukraine. The Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant's No. 4 reactor suffers a catastrophic power increase, causing explosions in its core. The disaster sends mass amounts of radioactive particles into the air around Pripyat and beyond, the toxic cloud reaching as far a Norway. Years later, the Ukrainian government tries to clean up and repopulate the area around Pripyat, stationing military personnel and scientists in the region. However, another critical accident occurs in 2006 and the majority of Pripyat's new inhabitants are killed or mutated by the event.

It is now 2012 and the Zone of Alienation is now home to many individuals called "stalkers." Stalkers are wanderers, seeing thrills, wealth and adventure within the Zone. The Zone has become a new frontier of sorts, although is officially off-limits and policed by the Ukranian State Security Service. Stalkers are an illegal, but ever-present feature of the Zone, attracting many different kinds of people. Some stalkers band together to form paramilitary organizations, research groups, or simply to get by. Being a stalker is dangerous business, especially with the Zone teeming with mutants, the children of Chernobyl. Not to mention the radiation and anomalies that dot the wilds.

Despite the hardships, you have come to the Zone with a band of like-minded hopefuls, seeking a new life inside of the Zone. Will you find whatever it is you seek? Will you join other stalkers for a greater cause? Or will you simply try to survive the dangers that lurk in the dark? The Zone is your frontier, for better or worse.

----

Mykola slid his backpack from his shoulders, reaching inside and lining up a row of artifacts on the counter. The past day, he'd been scouring the outskirts of the Cordon for them, strange baubles produced by the anomalies which dotted the Zone. Many had special properties, which made them very valuable to Stalkers. Any trader would be happy to get his hands on the things. Mykola placed the last one down and leaned on the counter.

"I've got four for you today, Sid," he said. "These two weren't easy." He pointed to the pair on the left.

"Mama's Beads and Flash, eh? Let's see..." Sidorovich handled the artifacts like a prospector, turning them over in his hands, inspecting the surface. "I can do 7500 Rubles for both. The other two aren't as rare, you know, so you'll get another 2000. 9500 Rubles in all, my friend."

"They're yours," Mykola replied. Sidorovich's register opened with a -ding- and he counted out Mykola's total before dropping the stack into his hand.

"Anything new since I've been gone?"

"Well, a few fresh-faced Stalkers just arrived this morning," Sid recalled, scratching his head. "The first newbies in a week, I think. Four of them. Why don't you greet them yourself? Maybe you can teach them a thing or two!" The trader chuckled and bundled Mykola's artifacts, dropping them into a door on his shelf.

"We'll see. Take it easy, Sid." Mykola threw his pack over his shoulders again and worked his way up the steps from Sidrovich's bunker. He approached the tiny village of wrecked houses, passing a couple of Stalkers on guard.

"Sid told me some newbies passed by today. You see them?"

"I think you're looking for them." A Stalker pointed to a stone dwelling on the opposite side of the village. Mykola could make out four of them sitting around a fire.

"Yeah, thanks." Mykola turned away towards the building. He pondered to himself if these rookies would be fresh-faced and amateur like the majority of new Stalkers he'd met. Many foolhardy youth tried to penetrate the Zone's perimeter. Those that didn't get shot by the military were either stripped of their gear and sent home or just dwelled around the rookie camp for a while before loosing interest. The majority, Mykola found, weren't as aware of the Zone's dangers as the ought to be. He paused in front of the house, peeking his head in through the ruined wall.

"You the newbies who dropped by this morning?"

The fire was warm, the vodka still somehow cold and the company not so bad, at least to Ivan. The former Ukrainian Policeman had heard the stories, some he attributed to being in certain districts of Kiev. Is there any truth to all of this? he wondered as he stared into the fire and tried to think warm thoughts. The other three people around him, a young woman and a Finn, by his looks anyway, had said nothing so far and he wasn't particularly inclined to say much to them either. He did not know exactly why they were here, but he suspected it had something to do with the thrill of it all, the idea that they could become quite wealthy...but really, what was the point of speculating?

The wind changed briefly, blowing smoke in his face and the former inspector coughed. Well, he'd grabbed their attention, no doubt now, so he might as well say something. Figuring that they were now looking at him or at least had glanced his way, Ivan tried for conversation. He went with Russian first, though he also knew and could speak Ukrainian, his native language. Looking to the woman first, then the Finn, he commented,"The fire's nice, no? So, what are your names? You can call me Ivan. What brings you both here to The Zone? For me, it's the mystery, I want to know what's really out there. I'm not sure if you've heard the stories, but...people speak of many horrible monsters, mutated and grotesque." He paused and waived his hand, silencing himself. "Listen to me, rambling on and on. Please, introduce yourselves." He gestured for each of them to do so with a look on his face that suggested he felt guilty for saying too much.

As he sat back and listened to them, a man poked his head around what remained of a wall; which was somehow holding up the structure. Though this was little surprise to Ivan, as many poorer sections of Kiev looked similar, though not as ...utterly destroyed. He spoke to them all, "You the newbies who dropped by this morning?"

Ivan looked up, into his eyes and caught the language of the question as Russian. He responded,"Yes, I am one of the new group here. What is your name? What do you want with us?" Rising from where he was siting previously, Ivan walked over towards the man and extended his hand, introducing himself in Ukrainian,"Former Police Inspector Ivan Karlik. When might we be able to actually go explore the Zone, with weapons of course?" He waited for the others to do much the same, or at least, give whatever normal introduction they gave to people.

Day started good for Lilyia. She got up from a run down ruin and was greeted by some guy that looked at her backpack. He immediately felt the tip of the woman's boot at his temple and was knocked out cold. He was not alone, Lilyia found out as she heard some pistols take a run at the house. The shooting from them stopped soon, but the woman had left with her belongings. The second encounter of the day was a group of 'stalker' drinking a little and sitting at a campfire. It looked appealing, just because they had booze. Lilyia told herself that she would never touch her own stuff for at least a day. A quick chat with the three men quickly made them do some easy games. Throw stones against a bottle at some distance. First one hits would get the vodka. Of course, since Lilyia was not drunk (yet), she won. Quickly stashing the bottle away, she quickly got in a discussion then.

The stalkers were arguing about whether they would get a chance to win it back, but Lilyia shook them off and tried to leave. She should have not resulted in some vulgar vocabulary, because the woman felt a quick hit on the back of her head before everything went black. A fine thing to start a day.

As Lilyia got back to her senses, she found herself at a campfire at a different place. Torn down buildings surrounded the place and gave a little sense of comfort and safety to the woman. The headaches were distant, her first move was to check for both her clothing and her backpack. It was no surprise that the bottle of vodka the woman won just some time before was gone, but her own was left unharmed within the rucksack along with the rest of her belongings. Cussing into herself, the woman kept sitting at the fire and wondered what this place was, until someone rose their voice. She did not give the man any sign of interest and just looked at the fire, listening to his words closely.

Beasts... The word brought back those swollen chumps and scarred bastards that she used to chop down with her baton back in the days. What could be worse? In any way, the woman sighed and gave the man a nudge with her boot, telling him to shut up and stop asking names. Just when she thought the silence was back, another man tried to chat things up. Newbies. Lilyia groaned and immediately lost interest in this place and thought to go on her own. "If you p***ies want to keep talking, then just do so... I am going to walk a mile or two", she sighed, stretching herself as she picked her backpack and finally let her gaze turn in the round.

Somewhere along the journey Wictor joined a crew headed to Cordon. The whole 'getting to the zone' trip was a lucky three weeks. Getting to the lawless area took a lot of illigal activity in and of itself. Laws are in place to send a person to prison for wanting to leave the boundaries of the law's origin and those laws are enforced. It was a worthwhile struggle to enter the far suburbs of Chernobyl. The atmosphere in and of itself was completely different.

Wictor has heard this Zone generally gets more hostile the further inward you go. Some people were lounging by a fire. None of them seemed displeased that a stranger sat by the fire. A man eventually spoke up in Russian. As a Polish man Wictor understood bits of what he said. None of it was concrete enough to be able to have a sensible conversation with the guy. It would have been like an elderly half deaf couple talking. Surprisingly the next thing that happens is him introducing himself, in English, as Ivan. "Call you Ivan eh? Call me Vector. I'm lookin' to avoid those mutants if they exist."

Someone interjected from behind Wictor, "You the newbies who dropped by this morning?" The other guy said something in Russian.Wictor's eyes jolted from one man to the other to judge their body language since there would be a slight language barrier.

Mykola chuckled, looking over the gathering of Stalkers. No real weapons, aside from pistols, as far as he could tell. Some wore worn out 'sunrise suits' they must have found lying around or been given. In all, he could tell they were fresh additions to the Zone. A rookie who introduced himself as Ivan extended his arm to Mykola, who awkwardly returned the gesture and shook his hand.

"Mykola Kovalski," he replied. "Everyone knows Ukrainian, yes? Good. I've been a Stalker for ten years. From the looks of you, this is either your first or second day in the Zone, eh? Lucky to have slipped past the grunts."

Mykola fully stepped under the structure's roof, crouching down to meet the rookies' level.

"I've met a lot of new Stalkers in my day. Most a bit younger. They come here with big dreams and ambition in their foolish hearts. They set out from Cordon thinking they'll get rich, maybe make it to the center and find the Wish Granter. Uh, you've heard of it before? No matter. Thing is, most of them get mugged by bandits, fall into an anomaly, get eaten by mutants, or get shot by the Monolith bastards if they make it that far. You think you've got what it takes to survive in the Zone?"

"If you pussies want to keep talking, then just do so... I am going to walk a mile or two."

Mykola turned to the group's only female, spotting the fatigues under her coat.

"Easy, soldier. You're going to want to get better prepared if you want to go out there." He jerked his head towards the road away from the camp. "Listen, let me make this clear. If you think you're ready for the Zone, then you're not. I've seen things that'd make you puke your guts up and run back to your mothers. But if you really want to be a Stalker, I suggest you listen to me."

The veteran tossed his gaze around the newcomers. He didn't think any of them would back out - they never did. But just maybe these Stalkers, once properly adjusted to the Zone, could be of use to him.

A large, well muscled figure sat aside from the group watching the gathered Stalkers cautiously. The Sunrise Suit he wore was dirty and his dried mud clung to side of his boots, clearly this man had traveled some distance to be here. Why was he there? Well, that would be something you would have to find out. Viktor sat his Fora 12 pistol in his hand, during his silent vigil he had taken the gun apart, cleaned it and put it back together again. One thing was certain, he knew his way around a gun and knew how to keep it properly maintained to avoid disastrous back-firings. But no amount of gun knowledge ensured your survival in the Zone, the place was entirely unlike any other Viktor had seen. Your gun could jam right after you had just cleaned it, if something could go wrong in the Zone then it would. It was just the way of things here.

"What are we waiting around for?" Viktor spoke up in his native Chechen dialect.

Viktor's life back in Chechnya had taught him one thing. Sitting around talking about things never got anything meaningful accomplished. Your time was better spent doing things and getting the job down, sitting around was just a waste of time. Back with the freedom fighters chances to sit and relax had been few and fair between. Seldom was the moment when they could relax and put their feet up. Life in the mountains had been hard and you were always on the look out for Russian soldiers sneaking up on you. The Russians weren't content to sit back and let the so called 'rebels' continue their actions unhindered so the band of freedom fighters Viktor had served with had had to be constantly on their toes and ready to move out at a moment's notice.

Viktor slipped his pistol back into it's holster on his belt and adjusted his seat on a wooden crate. He missed his home, the fresh smell of the pine scented mountain area and the feel of Chechen soil under his feet. Everything was so very different here in the Zone, so hostile and alien. Where-ever you looked some snarling mutant lay crouched waiting to pouch or lawless bandits lurked in waiting to rob you. But Viktor did not flinch or grow afraid as others might have, he'd seen some very bloody fighting in his life so far. The Zone was just another battle-zone, just another killing ground.

Listening to the man who had entered their camp - calling himself Mykola and awkwardly shaking hands - Ivan got some sense that this guy thought the entire group was in over their heads. He obviously spoke from experience and mentioned many "incidents" which he claimed, would cause them all too run home crying for their mommies. Cute. Ivan, for one, was undeterred, though. he wasn't here for the money, though a few extra Rubles would be nice. He immediately dismissed himself from that category. He wanted to see these things so badly, and now...given the chance, he'd jump. He had stepped back and aside to let the man enter. His trusted Fort-12 on his right hip, loaded and ready.

Then, from the back a voice spoke up. "What are we waiting around for?" and Ivan recognized the accent and dialect as Chechen. Figures that no one noticed him. They are quite the sneaky ones. Wonder how the war's going? he thought as he turned his head to gaze at quite tall and well built newcomer to the fire. It was no secret that Chechenya was in a never ending crusade against Russia. Ukraine, in its post-Cold War days, had "assisted" with the fight. The police, who might be branded as corrupt by Russians for doing so, tended to "look the other way" when rebels took hostages in certain cities. Loyalties ran both ways, though. Some cops, more sympathetic to Russia's plight, tended to take it out on Chechen units, even giving intelligence to the Russians, in exchange for political asylum. Most of those, though were branded as cowards, and either "dealt with" by criminals...or Chechen rebels..whoever the offended party felt would do a better job or had access to at the time.

Where did Ivan fall on this political sliding scale? He tended to side more with the Chechens, whom he felt had long been oppressed by the Russian desire for an empire, and crushing any and all revolutionary elements, who might seek to question the legitimacy of the government; as they'd demonstrated within other aspects of their own citizens lives. Thus, he'd always shown favorable treatment to Chechen criminals, and those who sympathized with the revolution. When he heard the voice, he replied, in Ukrainian,"Patience friend, the alcoholics have to finish their vodka and insults, first." he gave the young woman a look, who had made it clear she wanted to be up and moving, in her own crude terms. he didn't say anything to her, but his face said he didn't appreciate her words. Now wasn't the time for insulting others. he wondered how "legal" it would be to just shoot her right here and now. If the others would care. Looking over the group once more, he thought they might not care, particularly the Chechen among them, who might buy the first round if he ended her life.

Looking back at him, he added; still speaking in his native language and this time directly referencing the young woman who still had not given her name, "I almost forgot, some of the alcoholics are having their time of the month this morning, too. So, there's that. Remember patience is a virtue, Friend." but he smiled and chuckled; indicating he was joking. Hell, not even five minutes with the guy and I'm already kinda liking him. he might become valuable company in the Zone. His origins don't hurt, either Ivan's mind mused for him. One more thing was certain; the man had seen death, as had he, but knew how to shoot and could be cold-blooded if necessary.

Ivan looked back to the impromptu leader of the discussion, Mykola, and said,"So, Comrade Kovalski, where do we begin?"

Well, there he was at last.

Vesa had spent the better part of the last four months journeying from his homeland of Finland to the Ukraine. It had not been easy. His meager funds was only enough to bring him to St. Petersburg and not much farther. He was forced to improvise from there on out, moving on foot most of the time and taking a bus when he earned enough money doing a few odd jobs here and there. It had been a long four months, but Vesa doubted it would have been any better had he stayed in Finland. He had learned the hard way that being acquitted of all charges did not necessarily mean that he was welcomed back to society. Many still blamed him for the deaths of two of his squadmates during a training exercise. Few wanted to associate themselves with Vesa and he couldn't say he blamed them. He knew that he was at fault, it had been his responsibility to ensure the safety of his squad and he had failed.

With nothing except his backpack, his old army BDUs and a vest he used for hunting, he set off for the zone. He had heard that it was a lawless place where one could very easily carve out a new life. That sounded like what Vesa needed. With his skills and training, he reckoned that he could do reasonably well. After all, the Finnish strategy of defense relied on their soldiers being tough enough to take everything the harsh Finnish environment could throw at them, all the while fighting a defensive war. Still, Vesa admitted that he would need help in acclimatizing and knowing how things worked around the area. He knew that the zone was where one could make a sizable amount of illegal money, and since legality wasn't something Vesa considered important, he figured that he could perhaps make a new life for himself, earn some money and if he felt like it, leave and return to Finland.

That was still quite a long way away and Vesa shoved that thought into a small corner of his mind. Thinking about the far future never did anyone good.

He sat around a fire with the rest of the new rookies, staring into the flames. He had stripped his BDUs of every badge except the ones denoting his rank and the flag of Finland on his shoulders. He could not bear to part with those, and he doubted anyone would be stupid enough to see him as being part of the Ukrainian military when the Finnish flag was easily visible on his shoulder. Vesa heard someone walking towards them but did not react until he heard the person speak. "You the newbies who dropped by this morning?"

Vesa got to his feet and gave the man a simple salute out of habit. "Sergeant Vesa Harmaajävi, ex-Finnish Defense Forces." He introduced himself in a quiet voice. His Ukrainian was still accented, but understandable. At least, that was what Vesa hoped. He extended a hand. "Look forward to working with you."

Viktor watched the man (Ivan) as he spoke. Over his long tenure with a particularly active group of Chechen freedom fighters Viktor had learnt to sit back and watch. If you observed those around you and learnt a little about them then you could better adapt to a situation. It was pure proof of the old saying, know your enemy. In Chechnya if you rushed into a situation without thinking you would end up shot on the spot or dragged off to some hell-hole of a Russian prison for 'interrogation'. But Viktor did not sense that this man was his enemy, he seemed relaxed and friendly. But for all he knew that could just be a front and the man could even now be planning to gain his friendship and stab him in the back. But the Zone was an extremely hostile place, you needed friends and you more importantly you needed connections. So Viktor decided to take a friendly approach and switched from his native Chechen to speak in Ukrainian so the other man could understand you.

He spoke just loud enough so only the other man could hear him;

"Ah women and fighting," Viktor said making a mildly sexist remark "there are some things they are just not as good at. I prefer my women in front of a fire with as little clothes as possible. Life is hard, sometimes you need a bit of pleasure. But do not get me wrong, if a woman proves herself a capable fighter then she becomes all the more attractive for it. Nothing wrong with a good strong woman."

Indeed, a lot of Chechen women were far from obedient housewives doting on their husbands. Many of them were strong willed, brave and unafraid to speak their mind. Viktor liked a woman who stood up for herself and knew how to protect herself. Where he came from you could not afford to be soft and kind, such attributes saw you labeled as an easy target. You had to be strong to fight for and protect what you wanted, to keep your family and your home safe. It was well known that the Russian authorities frequently abused the Chechen people, they called it 'keeping proper order'. For a moment Viktor's mind wandered off and he returned to his village back in Chechnya. Once more he smelt the acrid stench of smoke, heard the screams and saw a young woman torn from his arms. He saw the emotionless and uncaring faces of the Russian authorities. Viktor forced himself to put aside those memories, reflected on them too long filled with anger or made him turn to the bottle. Instead he again spoke to the man who had been the first to speak to him.

"Some of too keen on the bottle," he said nodding towards the woman "there is a time for everything and if your constantly drunk then you're no use to anyone."

"To come from Finland all this way - I guess we'll have to make it worth your while, my friend," Mykola said, greeting the ex-soldier.

"So, Comrade Kovalski, where do we begin?"

Mykola smirked, standing up from the fire. "Well, I sure hope you didn't plan on going into the Zone with those peashooters, eh? Come with me. I'll see what we can do." With that, he turned towards Sidorovich's bunker, waving a hand to them to follow.

---Inside Sidorovich's bunker---

"Mykola! What do you think you're doing?" Sidorovich wiped his brow as he eyed the rookies, a bit overwhelmed by all the individuals on the other side of the counter.

"Relax, Sid. I'm taking these newcomers with me."

"What, are you building an army? Listen, I have a business to run..."

"I know, I know. Just this once, buddy. All they've got are pistols. I just need whatever you can manage. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Just think of the artifacts and loot we'll come back with. You'll get yours, understand? I've never let you down, old friend."

Sidorovich, turned around, waving his hand in the air. "Ah, dammit, Mykola. You owe me! I know how persistent you can be." Sidorovich opened a case, producing a bundle of small arms and spilling them over the counter. "Here, that's the best I can do. They're a bit banged up, but they'll work. Don't think I'll forget this, Mykola." Alongside the weapons he slapped down boxes of shotgun shells and magazines full of ammunition. "One each. Divide the ammo among yourselves; I could care less what you do with these."

"Hah, you're the best, Sid!" Mykola waved the newcomers over and pointed to the stash. "See anything you like? Don't let me catch you fighting, alright?"

---

Stash:
-3 x AKS-74U carbines (5.45×39mm)
-1 x Fort-500 shotgun (12x76)
-2 x TOZ-34 shotguns (12x70)
-2 x MP5 sub-machine guns (9x19mm)

[Pick one weapon each; leftover guns go back to Sidorovich; 90 rounds (3 mags) for SMGs/carbines or 75 shells (3 boxes) for shotguns]