Вот, господа, бойтесь! Бойтесь Водку Николаевитча Тчвоского и его sukas, потому что эти люди населяют нашу страну, а мы о них и не знаем...
Форумная игра товарищей за железным занавесом. Главная тема: русская мафия. Боже, как страшно жить в России!! Читайте сами:
History: Vodka Nikolaivich Tchvosky was born to a family as the youngest of five sons and a daughter. His mother died at child birth, and as the result of this, he was the recipient of much hostility from his older brothers, sometimes to a dangerous extent. An incident with the pond at winter gave him pneumonia; his lungs remain weakened to this day after that ordeal.
Talented with the violin from a younger age, Vodka was sent to a music academy from the age of 6 until 12 when, despite his potential to be a virtuoso, his father wanted to ready him for military school. He had to work hard to overcome his physical shortcomings, causing him to be keenly aware of his physical condition, something that he maintains carefully.
At 14 he was enrolled in a Suvorov Military School for Boys and from there it was a short line to the KGB Academy where he was trained for the anti-terrorist secret service. He speaks flawless French and German though his English is still accented. Upon graduation he was stationed in Prague where he met a scientist by the name of Nikki Renke at the age of 19. They had a shaky friendship that grew to something more through shared hardships and dark secrets. The relationship grew rocky and was cut off succinctly as Vodka was one day called into the office of the higher ups with a “Congratulations, Captain Tchvosky, due to a recent death, you’ve just been promoted. Be ready with your troops in an hour.”
дальше-лучшеFrom there it was 7 hard years of war in the deserts of Afghanistan, an experience that left Vodka scarred both mentally and physically. He did and saw things that left him with a jaded view on mankind in general, questioning his cause. Upon the withdrawal of the troops in 87, he returned home, exhausted.
Vodka’s attempts to find Nikki turned up empty, as if the man simply vanished in thin air. The integration to normalcy was cut short as within the year, he was imprisoned for no crime he remembered committing.
Being thrown in the Zone shattered whatever faith he had left and was entered a broken man. The strain of the war and the shock of his betrayal led to what they told him was ‘post traumatic stress syndrome’. Because of this, his black hair began to grow in grey, a startling change that drew unwanted attention.
He spent his early days in dazed state of hell, tormented by fellow prisoners, unresisting as he was burned by cigarettes and humiliated. It was only when they attempted to Downcast him that he broke through his stupor and quickly proved himself to be just as deadly and dangerous as he was in Afghanistan, earning himself his first tattoo, the skull. Vodka took to the Zone quickly, realizing the parallels between this place and the battlefield. After two years in the prison, the announcement of the collapse of the Soviet Union in 90 ignited a new fire within him. He fought and clawed his way to the top, his cruelty branding the knight behind his shoulder, his reign of fear and terror, the crucifix on his torso until finally his collar was crowned.
After serving his full 8 year sentence, Vodka breathed in the cold air of Moscow.
He wanted out of this bitch of a mother.
It wasn’t hard for him to gather up his Family, his resources and connections as he and his former men set out for greener pastures. With his broken Italian, Vodka charmed the old and ailing Don of a Sicilian family in decline who let him and his men stay as hired muscle. There was a period of lulling peace while he waited, studying the new world and opportunities presented to him. He watched and learned, studied. Vodka took a quick affinity to business, an enthusiastic student as he found it a new battlefield that he was more than willing to play on.
It was during this time that he fell in love with one of the Sicilians, a brief and torrid affair that ended when the Don died, signaling the moment that he had been waiting for. Vodka and his men devoured the Sicilian family, thoroughly and entirely. If it felt like he was shooting himself when he put a bullet through his beloved, Vodka would never tell.
From the ashes of the family, Vodka built his Black Tears. Bit by bit, his own Family grew. He transformed the beautiful Hotel Bella Marie to his base of operations, now known on the street as Hotel Moscow.
It is here that our story begins.
Tattoos:
skull – I bear the mark of Cain (murder)
crown – I head a Family
crucifix – I am oppressed by the system, I am a prince of 'theives'
stars on shoulders – I am a Vor
bells – I will serve from bell call to bell call
fetters – I am shackled to this fate
barbed wire – I have served sentence for 8 years
epaulette – I am a ranked criminal
knight – I take pleasure in inflicting pain on others
stars on knees – I kneel before no man
On Hands
Crowned shield – left middle finder
Skull with crossbones twining into a band – left ring finger
Star – left pinky
Crow head – left thumb
Pyramid – right pinky
Black Greek cross with tear – right ring finger
Scars:
2 gunshot wounds, lower right side, upper left shoulder
Several blade wounds from knife fights and shrapnel
Many cigarette/cigar burns from early prison Форум игры
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Чиффа.