[Center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Gli5XnJ.png[/img][hr][hr][b][colour=dcf3ff]Event:[/colour][/b] Part One: The Sich [b]|[/b] [b][colour=dcf3ff]Location:[/colour][/b] Vossoriyan Tundra, 10 years ago[hr][hr][/center][center][url=https://youtu.be/FTw8W6zbl1A?si=AT0aiv2mZq81hFlu][h3]♫[/h3][/url][/center]
[colour=cyan]"Ivor, close it up already,"[/colour] Lyudmila said scornfully, as her husband was taking more than his fair share of time chatting away with the opening of the Chum wide open. [colour=cyan]"We don't have that much grass on hand."[/colour] Oksana giggled wildly. [colour=dcf3ff]"Tatu, hurry, it is getting so coooolllldddd,"[/colour] she said with exaggerated emphasis as she wrapped herself up with the fur blankets.

Ivor grumbled and humbugged as he was thoroughly chastised by his family, reluctantly finishing off his conversation. He eventually sealed it as the hot air started to refill the room, enough to start peeling some layers off.

[colour=lightblue]"Not sure why you are the one complaining; you don't feel the cold as I do,"[/colour] he rebuked towards his wife, Lyudmila, who returned a playful smile. [colour=cyan]"Only thinking of you, dear."[/colour] He only half managed to get his coat half-off before he was attacked by a ferocious little girl. [colour=dcf3ff]"Rawr!"[/colour] as she pounced on him.

[colour=lightblue]"Ah, it is Oles the Levlytsar in the flesh!"[/colour] he grabbed the girl in return, bundling her up in a hug, his arms wrapped around her and in the blankets. [colour=cyan]"She gets more like her Tato every day. I worry about her future marriage prospects,"[/colour] Lyudmila chastised the pair of them now.

Ivor smiled brightly as he doted on his daughter. [colour=lightblue]"Now, my zaychenya is going to become a great healer like her Mamo, isn't she?"[/colour] Oksana nodded her head in return. [colour=dcf3ff]"A great healer like Mama and travelling the world to fight monsters!"[/colour]

Lyudmila shook her head. [colour=cyan]"It is like talking to a deaf girl; she never listens. They keep entertaining her with those fanciful stories when they come in. I never knew Elk herding was such a dangerous occupation."[/colour]

Ivor couldn't help but chuckle. [colour=lightblue]"They have a bet on; whoever tells her the best story is getting first pick of the Elk at the end of the season."[/colour] Lyudmila chuckled as she shook her head in bemusement. [colour=cyan]"They were certainly upping the stakes; it will be hard-pressed to beat the one with the Begemont."[/colour]

Ivor laughed in return as Oksana gave a puzzled look at the pair. Lyudmila opened the outer layer of her fur as she beckoned her over, and Oksana closed in for a hug as Lyudmila began to start serving supper. [colour=dcf3ff]"I love you, Mama,"[/colour] [colour=cyan]"You too, sonechko."[/colour]

[hr]

As they all settled down for the evening, with little Sana bundled up in her furs, the pair of them were able to speak more privately. [colour=cyan]“What were you talking about earlier?”[/colour] Lyudmila gazed into her husband's eyes with concern as they laid together.

Ivor sighed, shaking his head disappointedly. [colour=lightblue]“It is Borislav and his brutes sniffing around the herds again.”[/colour]

Lyudmila's brows furrowed in worry, and she gently traced a soothing pattern on Ivor's chest. [colour=cyan]“Already? We were not expecting him again till the end of the season.”[/colour]

[colour=lightblue]“The Tsar has increased the tithe, apparently. We were found to be short.”[/colour]

Lyudmila's expression hardened. [colour=cyan]“Does he think we are so forgetful? He already raised it last time. This is robbery.”[/colour]

[colour=lightblue]“Robbery or not, he is here to oversee these lands. We plan on leaving tomorrow, we are considering moving the herd further south, perhaps buying ourselves a season or two.”[/colour]

Lyudmila shook her head, frightened. She twirled a strand of her hair nervously. [colour=cyan]“He would not like that, he really wouldn’t. I have known him since I was a girl; he has always had a temper.”[/colour]

[colour=lightblue]“If we don’t, if it came to another season, there wouldn’t be a herd for him to take a tithe from. He would start looking at people.”[/colour] Ivor's eyes gazed towards the bundle of wrapped-up fur where his daughter lay.

Lyudmila's hand found its way to Sana's small form, a protective gesture. [colour=cyan]“He wouldn’t dare; that is our daughter…”[/colour]

[colour=lightblue]“…and if she is anything like her mother, the blood mouths would pay big for her.”[/colour]

Lyudmila nodded, her worry shifting to determination. [colour=cyan]“He is a traitor to the Kozaky; we always fought to keep our independence, we serve in their armies and pay the tithe so they leave us alone.”[/colour]

[colour=lightblue]“Word has it, he sold out, and they promised him the title of Knyaz. The tithe is being used to weaken us and drive us out of his lands.”[/colour]

[colour=cyan]“What will happen now?”[/colour]

[colour=lightblue]“We have sent Anhelina to inform him we accept his terms and will have the delivery ready in three days. It should buy us enough time.”[/colour]

Ivor wrapped his arms around Lyudmila, offering comfort as she cuddled up against him, and they rested for the evening, facing the challenges that awaited them.

[hr]

The snow fell during the peaceful night, the chums stood amongst their herd as the smoke of the dim fires rose from their tips. Sharpened sticks lined the boundary around the Sich, serving to keep the wilderness out and the herds inside.

The fresh snow easily parted as it was ploughed by horses, and the riders moved at twilight. Their trail left dark streaks in the landscape, as if a bear god had clawed through the land, eventually fanning out and encircling the encampment. The man at the head lit his torch as he approached the entrance. Adorned in thick furs, his arms glistened and jingled with bands of precious metal. His face was coated in war paint, flanked on the right by a man with scars and tattoos, his disfigured upper lip forming a permanent scowl, and on the left by a woman with a seemingly unremarkable appearance. Her dusty blonde hair and dress were more in keeping with the style of those in the Vossoriyan settlements. She was the first to approach the gates, captivating the men with a gesture, causing them to open the way before dropping into a never-ending sleep. The band began to enter the Sich.

Metal was drawn as the band scattered toward the chums dotted out before them. The light sounds of snow crunching beneath their feet were soon accompanied by blades slicing through the hide walls of the chums and the occupants inside. Most were caught unaware of their fate, while others fought valiantly to protect their families. Some raised the alarm, letting out loud noises, creating light displays, or screaming from the top of their lungs.

The sound of drums vibrated through the encampment as the alarm was raised, survivors regrouped with others who readied themselves for war. Oksana, bundled in furs, watched the shadows in the night and the frightening shapes they made in the light of the night sky. Her people ran around grabbing what they could as invaders set the chums ablaze, the fierce fires scorching their presence from the lands. Those who tried to challenge the band individually found themselves overpowered, leading to the formation of a defensive group as the invaders regrouped, resulting in a stand-off.

[hr]

The first to break ranks was the snarling man, holding the head of a woman, Anhelina the messenger, as he hurled it to the feet of Ivor. Though the one to speak was the well-dressed gentleman, Borislav himself, his jewellery jingling.

[colour=brown]“I thought better of you, Chief Ivor. I thought you and your kind already knew your place as my property.”[/colour] He shook his head disappointedly, tutting. [colour=brown]“You tried to run from me.”[/colour]

Ivor stepped forward, opposing him, [colour=lightblue]“You monster, how could you turn on your own people like this?”[/colour]

The disfigured man started to laugh loudly, [colour=red]“They don’t deny it! I have been robbed of their whimpering, of their feeble lies.”[/colour]

Borislav gestured to the man to hold back, [colour=brown]“Viktor, please, we are civilized people now.”[/colour] His dark grin betrayed the malice behind those words; he was not discussing culture but simple superiority, of man above those that are property.

It was the woman who gestured next, towards the mother and her daughter. [colour=86608E]“Ice veins. Those two shall fetch us a good price.”[/colour] She laughed as Lyudmila and Oksana were escorted to the back of the group as others moved to stand before them. [colour=brown]“Then make sure to gather them up, Zorya.”[/colour] Borislav nodded.

[hr]

As the tension in the air thickened, Borislav, Viktor, and Zorya stepped forward, casting an ominous shadow over the group with flames of destruction roaring behind them. Viktor’s disfigured face contorted into a snarl as he confidently advanced. Ruslan, the 'Begemont Slayer,' fuelled by defiance, readied himself, locking eyes with Viktor, determined despite the odds. The snow beneath their feet seemed to hold its breath, anticipating the eruption of violence.

The first clash echoed through the night as Ruslan repeatedly thrust with his spear, targeting vulnerable spots. Viktor wielded his axe effortlessly, parrying the spear ferociously and seeking opportunities to strike back. The moment one was created, he hurled the weapon toward Ruslan, the axe striking him in the head, and splitting his skull as he fell into the snow unceremoniously limp. Viktor, undeterred, pulled the axe from the man's skull with a squelch, roaring out as he scored his skin with another mark, overwhelming any who dared to cross his path.

Lenka, another of the Sich, raised her hand, casting a fireball towards the group. It was Zorya that stepped forward, creating a hungering shield to absorb it to protect the warband. She followed up with an internal attack, attempting to knock out Lenka, but the stumbling woman resisted. She used an opportunity as the spear lunged towards Zorya as the woman was caught by surprise, hitting her with a glancing blow. Furious, she snarled and used internal magnetic magic to paralyse and crumble the woman into a pile on the floor.

As the others fought, Ivor readied his bow, chanting and praying to the Old Mother of the Sky. He readied his bow as he fired at Borislav multiple times with kinetic empowered arrows. They flew in the air, hitting him unexpectedly in the arm and then the leg. Ivor couldn't believe his luck, instructing those behind him to start running. Viktor and Zorya turned towards him with concern, while Borislav laughed. He reached down, pulling the arrows from his body without bothering to heal, his blood splattering on the snow. His features twisted in a cruel smile, as he began to proceed forward. [colour=brown]“Cut them off, he is mine.”[/colour]

Borislav began bearing down on Ivor with his sword drawn, unleashing a torrent of movements that seemingly parried arrows in a choreographed manner, his swordplay was a brutal dance of dominance. Ivor found himself cornered, and despite his valiant efforts, the odds were insurmountable. Blow after blow of that sword landed on him until he fell, bloodied, a symbol of resistance crushed beneath the weight of tyranny and progress.

In the chaos, Lyudmila found herself captured and dragged away by unseen hands, using ice magic to fend off her attackers. She called out desperately, [colour=cyan]"Zaychenya, run!"[/colour] and created an ice wall, giving others an increased opportunity to flee. Zorya quickly made her way to the scene disarmed and disabled her with internal chem, ending her resistance, and to haul her away to be sold.

Oksana ran as fast as her little legs would take her, tears flooding her face as her world crashed down. [colour=dcf3ff]"Mama.. Tatu..."[/colour] Others around her also ran. An explosion rocked behind her as they tore down the ice wall, which caught her in the crossfire and she was now thrust into a world of chaos. A shockwave resonated through her being, as she was struck by the debris. The world became a muffled symphony of destruction. A loud pitch rang in her ears as she grew disoriented, slipping into states of unconsciousness, as she was now face down on the ground.

She remembered the heaviness on top of her, hardly able to breathe as the snow continued to drift and fall around her. The sight of Viktor making short work of others fleeing, taking pleasure in their suffering, as their blood stained the snow, the battle continued to rage on around her. She struggled against the cold embrace, but the shock was too much. She passed out for good, and soon was completely trapped in a snowy cocoon. The world she once knew was gone, meeting its final end.

[hr]

The world was pitch black, and silent. Was she dead?

Out of the emptiness of the void was a sensation. A rough but wet feeling over where her face was. As awareness slowly crept back, she shot up quickly and suddenly, taking in a deep breath. The remnants of the snow cocoon surrounded her, and a warmth on her face indicated the source of the sensation. Ice covered her eyes, and she clawed at it until the world became bright with the sun's rays.

Before her stood one of the elk calves, nudging and prodding its nose into her. Dazed, she struggled to maintain balance, experiencing vertigo that made distinguishing up from down challenging. She reached out, holding onto the creature for support, and embraced it, grateful for its companionship. Though she attempted to speak to it, the silence hung in the air, a loud, deafening silence. Staring at the calf, she saw its concerned gaze, felt the rumblings in its body as it bleated, though she couldn't hear the sound.

She leaned into the creature's fur, tears streaming down her face as the events of the previous night flooded back. Alone in this new, quiet world, she felt a profound sense of isolation. The Elk calf, however, disagreed, moving to lick her face, drying her salty tears.

Perhaps she was not entirely alone.

Stroking the Elk, she reluctantly sobered up from her distress.

[colour=dcf3ff]“I shall call you, Metel.”[/colour]

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