[i]"It's cold, It's barren, It's overrun with beastmen. The food is bad, the wine is worse, and that vodka they make will dissolve the teeth right out of your head, and if the winter don't kill ya, the women will."[/i]

Konrad Bitchen- Imperial Diplomat

"We will leave you here Boyarina," Ivan said lifting his fist to his chest in a formal salute. Ivan Kariska was typical of his breed, a landless kossak adventure, bandit, trapper or herdsman as the season and lady luck required. He rode upon a sturdy Kislivte steed, wiry looking and good for many days without rest. He wore leathers over a suit of chainmail that was old when Ursus was Tzar and had grown no younger since. For all that it was in good condition, oiled and well cared for.

"Tor go vith you and your rviders Ivan Kariska," Natasha Andropolovskya replied. Clashing her own hand to her chest. She was a slender woman, shorter and lighter than Kariska by a considerable margin, but she had a quickness about her that manifested in the way her ice blue eyes darted constantly across the landscape. Her black hair was drawn back into a long braid that swung behind her like a tail. In contrast to Kariska her chainmail shone with the recent polish of sand and vinegar, and her leather and cloth gamberson was embroided with galloping horses, and wrestling bears. An expensive but well used cavalry saber hung from her waist and a plain looking cavalry musket was tucked barrel down against her saddle. Her horse was a glossy black mare with a blaze of white across her nose and fetlocks, and she pranced with eagerness despite a week of hard riding.

"Peace Konya," Natasha crooned, rubbing the impatient steeds neck with a gloved hand. She adjusted the short spear in her stirup cup, rattling it against the buckler strapped over the top. The steed stilled, though still quivered with restive energy.

"Remember us to your father Boyarina, in case we ever have cause to call," Kariska said.

"He vill give you the good vodka befar he hangs you," Natasha promised, and all five Kislivites laughed as thought his were not a literal truth.

"Tor go with you too Natasha Andropolovskya," Kariska called, and then wheeled his mount around and trotted away towards the north. Kariska and his kossaks were probably wanted by the local road wardens, but they had been more than willing to escort her this far after she had encountered them to the north. Bandits and killers they might be but they respected their countrymen. The horse bristled beneath Natasha. She laughed and patted the beast again.

"Yes Konya, now ve are free of zem, I vink ve can manage a gallop."

_____

The bandits were just reaching for Marius' purse when the galloping of hooves was heard. All six of the bandits froze. Even in this rural district, Marius threat of the roadwarden's was not idle.

"Might be a courier, often have gold," one of them said hopefully.

"It might be the law, we should kill this one and get off the road," another argued.

"If you kill me you wont have time to deal with my body," Marius stuck in. Further conversation was interrupted as a rider rounded the switchback and reigned in her horse to avoid over running the band.

"Blimey, its a bleeding woman," one of them gasped. Natasha stared at them with surprise, having not expected to met anyone on the road this far north and this late in the evening.

"Geyet out of my vay," Natasha said haughtily, her eyes scanning the scene in front of her. Six men in leathers, all armed, two with bows. One holding a shiny sword that must have belonged to the well dressed young man on the ground. Ivan Kariska could have eaten the whole lot for breakfast dead drunk, as he was most of the time.

"Who are you to give us orders on our own road!" one of the demanded.

"You haven't even paid our tax yet! You got any money girly?" the leader called.

"Vy vould I give you mahney?" Natasha scoffed.

"If you've got no money, there are other vays a pretty girly can pay the tax," one of the others suggested, thrusting his hips lewdly and taking a step towards the horse, grubby hand reaching for the bridle. 

"I see," Natasha said and quick as lightning pulled the spear from her stirrup. In a smooth motion she reversed the weapon and cast it overhand. It sunk into the throat of one of the bowman with a sound like a butchers cleaver hitting a bone. The man nearest the horse screamed and started to turn, but the Kislivite war steed needed no encouragement. It reared back and delivered a bone shattering kick that sent rotten teeth, blood and spittle spraying from the mans shattered jaw before bounding forward in a graceful leap that caried it directly over Marius. Before the horse could straighten, Natasha whipped the cavalry saber free, riding the horses leap with bent knees as she neatly severed the sword hand of one of the stunned highwaymen. With a spray of blood she swung the sword around and sabered the man to her other side, striking a deep cut between shoulder and collarbone that spurted arterial spray as he dropped screaming to the ground. The remaining two men bolted in terror, one ran down the road and went down under the horses hooves with a crack of bone and moan of pain. The last bandit, lucky rather than smart, took off through the trees to the side of the road. Natasha unshipped her carbine and fitted it to her shoulder, aiming through the crude sights. She lowered the weapon without firing and then turned. The handless man was sobbing and clutching at his stump. Natasha slid from her saddle and retrieved her spear. Without a pause she stabbed the weeping man through the heart, twisting the blade and pulling it free before it could stick in his flesh. The man with the maimed face was crawling away, blood pouring from his ruined jaw. Natasha stabbed him through the neck just behind the skull. The road was suddenly quiet save for the increasingly distant crashing of the lucky bandit as he struggled through the woods. The fine layer of dust kicked up by the charging horse settled onto the corpses. The whole place stank of blood, bad hygiene, and the voided bowels of the dead bandits. Natasha stooped down and picked up the shiny sword, extending it pommel first to the youth still laying on the ground.

"Zeez bandeets, zey stink vorse than za cesspool da?" she said conversationally.