Molochev, Fall 564 MR, on the road to Zuluk.

The day starts out with promise; the air is crisp and the sky a brilliant blue. The sun warms you as you and your companions ride through the city of Sviatol and through the northern gates and out onto the road and on to the open plains of the capitol province of Siast.

Pyotr's hounds enthusiastically bound ahead of your horses; spooking game from the tall yellow grasses. Without breaking the stride of his horse, Yuri pulls a sleek composite bow from a tooled case that hanging at his side and looses an arrow. It flies true and impales a pheasant on the wing, bringing it to the ground. Two more birds meet a similar fate.

"We shall eat well tonight." Yuri barks a laugh as he deftly leans to the side and snatches the birds from the ground then binds them to his saddle.

Pyotr, Yuri, and Kasimir are some of your oldest comrades. They are like Sergei, extremely loyal. Sergei, uncertain if you wanted them to know about your reasons for your journey, has told them only that you are going on a hunting trip in the north. This was well met, for the deer are no doubt plentiful and fat.

You ride until dusk. Eventually you and your friends find a secluded and well protected and defensible area to set up camp. You dismount, remove your tack, and hobble the horses. Pyotr sets about preparing the pheasants. A small shielded fire is soon going; Kasimir gathers pine needles for making beds. Within a few hours you all set down around the fire and feast on pheasant. Occasionally Pyotr throws a piece of meat to the dogs. Eventually it is time to head for your blankets. Yuri and Kasimir stand first watch. The Goblins of Kal Kalathor have been active lately. Tsar Drago's "dismissal" of their latest ambassador could be likened to throwing a rock at a hornets nest. Their retaliatory strikes for the insult were on the rise.

When the time comes, you and Pyotr stand watch. During the night you hear various animal sounds, but nothing draws near your camp.

The dawn is gray and cold. Kriesha would no doubt test your endurance today. After a quick meal of jerked meats, you saddle up and ride onto the main road into Tonega.

An hour into your ride, the temperature seems to plummet bringing with it an intense driving snow. You draw your fur lined cloak tighter around your body as the raw cold tears at your lungs with each breath, cutting you to the bone with each gust of Kriesha's breath. There are times when you think that your bones will crack from the intense chill. Determined not to be defeated by the Ice Lady, you and your party press on into a full blown blizzard. You feel each labored movement of your horse. Even the hounds seem to be having trouble.

The wind whips flecks of ice into your face and any small hole in your defenses. Your breath is stolen with each ice edged gust. The breath from your mouth seems to crystallize before you eyes. And just when you think Kriesha is about to drive an icy dagger into your heart...the snow fades to flurries and stops.

The sun looks like a white disk, stalking behind a wall of pale gray clouds. All around you, the entire country side is cloaked in a thick white blanket of snow.

"Kriesha must be angry with Belinik." Pyotr grumbles.

"We are in for a long winter, I think." Kasimir laments.

The banter is light. The snow may have ceased, but the cold remains, stealing the words and a bit of strength with the effort.

The snow has removed the road from sight, yet your finely honed senses continue to lead North in the direction of Zuluk. You continue to ride beyond dusk, stopping only when you can no longer see.

You camp. It's more dangerous, but you and your companions make a larger fire to warm yourselves. The night promises to be colder than the day.

Despite Kriesha's chilling mood, you and your companions survive the night with your hides in tact. You mount up and ride. The skies again blue and crystalline, the sun shines brightly and begins to warm the air. Everything seems brighter as you cross into Zuluk, the quarry would soon be run to ground.

You ride for hours and as the darkness settles, you arrive at a small village. A building at the center of the village glows with welcome golden light. You ride to the building and dismount. Going inside, a husky woman gives you a scrutinizing look as she wipes out a mug. Pulling three more off a shelf, she pours a beverage from a pitcher and places them on a table.

You and your friends sit and drink. The woman brings some rough hewn wooden bowls. She plops them down in front of you.

"Will you be staying the night?"

You play with the stew with a spoon. The contents seem a little thin and the consistency is that of the water soaked mud outside, most unappitizing. "No." you move the bowl away. "I am looking for someone...a woman."

Your friends freeze, questions mounting in their expressions. Rolling your eyes, you look at the matron.

"We don't offer such services." She grumbles.
"You misunderstand. I am looking for a woman who has traveled here. The Church has business with her."

The woman pales slightly. "There was a woman. A warrior. Travel the eastern path, you will come to a farm house, you will find her there."

Your comrades stare at you as you drink down the last of your mead. Setting the mug firmly on the table, "Let's go." You stand and move swiftly toward the door.

"Where are you going, Raznic? Eat." Kasimir raises a bowl toward you.

Raising an eyebrow, you wave it away. "We must go before our quarry flees."

Without questioning further, your comrades file out of the building behind you. Mounting your horses, you set off down the eastern path.

You travel for a few miles. Snow and mud slosh beneath your horses' hooves as he plods along. You slowly become aware of the first hints of wood smoke on the breeze. As you and your party round the trail, you see a small farmstead. There are paddocks that normally would have held animals in various states of disrepair. As you draw, the planks are grayed and have holes here and there. The roof looks like it is in danger of collapse. Dead vines grip the walls and practically overgrow the house in places. By the looks of the place, no one seems to have lived here for quite some time.

A dim glow can be seen through the parchment covering the windows and a thin thread of smoke mixes with the low lying mists.

Zuluk, The Farmstead 564 MR

You ride a few more paces toward the farm house. Reining in your horse, you dismount and lead it to the tree line. Without question, the others follow suit.

“Raznic, what’s this about?” Kasimir asks as he ties his mounts reins to a
fallen tree. “I think that we are not here to hunt.”

“We are hunting my friend, but the quarry is more dangerous than any mere creature of the woods, the prey we hunt is none other than Kara Dainscer.” The mention of the name results in raised eyebrows of disbelief and an impressed grunt from Yuri.

“I thought she was killed by the goblins.”

“It would appear that we were misinformed.” Pyotr strokes his beard thoughtfully.

“Well, we’re about to discover if the rumors of her death were true or false. Yuri, Pyotr, circle around to the back of the house. Make sure nothing escapes. And remember, we want them alive.” They nod and disappear wrath-like into the darkness.

You look to Kasimir, “We go in through the front. Strike to subdue.” When he nods, the two of you move stealthily toward the farm house. When you are in position, you kick the door open and rush inside.

The dog lying next to a small cot snaps its head in your direction; snarling it launches itself at you and Kasimir. Simultaneously, a raven haired woman throws off her the covers and springs from the cot, drawing an elegantly curved and slender blade from beneath the mattress and an axe that is leaning against the wall.

Next to you Kasimir faces off against no just a dog, but a rather large wolf. It snarls and makes several snapping and dodging lunges at his legs. He swats at the wolf, but the creature is proving very agile.

Pyotr and Yuri rush in from the back. The woman kicks a table in their path. Yuri trips over the table, crashing to the floor in a heap. Pyotr leaps the table and moves to strike the woman. With incredible grace, the woman spins away from Pyotr’s blow, continuing her spin, she turns her defense into an attack slicing Pyotr across the shoulders and sending him crashing into the wall. Coming to a stop, she stands in en garde position.

You stand for a moment regarding the woman. It is clear to see from the grace of her carriage and fluidity of motion how this woman came to be called the “Dancer”. That her awareness and able handling of your comrades gives indication that she is one accustomed to combat. While she stands statuesque, her sword poised to strike, you see her arm tremble from the strain, and as you look at her, you notice dried blood. Some new stains begin to appear on her linen shirt; from wounds not quite healed.

Her wolf-like eyes regard you with suspicion as you pull Yuri toward you and Pyotr staggers back toward you, the point of his sword trained on her. As you retreat a few steps, Kasimir deftly swats the wolf on the nose with the flat of his blade. It yelps and retreats behind the Dancer. Its head low, it bares its teeth and rumbles deeply.

Lowering the point of your blade, you hold up your other hand. “Kara, we mean you no har—!”

In a flash, the Dancer attacks! Ax and sword whirl and flash with deadly intent as one weapon impacts with Kasimir’s blade and the other with yours. Jerking the ax, Kasimir’s blade slides out of his hand and goes flying, clattering noisily in the darkness of the room. Then the wolf plunges amongst your friends. Chaos erupts behind you as your friends attempt to avoid getting bitten.

“Kara, we mean you now harm.” You grate through clenched teeth as your weapons lock.

“LIAR! You are Drago’s dogs, come to murder me in my sleep!” She shoves you backward and spins away before coming in for another attack.

“No, I’m here to help you!” Your swords lock again.

“To help me into my GRAVE!”

The blow rattles your arm painfully. “Hear me! I’ve come here seeking your help as well.” You shout.

“Why should I believe you?” She snarls at you over your crossed blades. “Drago tried to kill me, what makes you any different? You who comes to me skulking in the darkness like thieves?”

“Because Drago is my enemy as well.” You growl back.

Narrowing her eyes, simultaneously you push each other off and separate.
She snaps her fingers, “Ursula, come.” The wolf returns to her. She looks at you, “Well? Speak!”

Everyone lowers their weapons, but remains tense. Looking at Pyotr’s wounds, you lay hands on him, “I am not your enemy Kara Daincser, I am here seeking your aid against a common foe.”

“What makes you think that I am an enemy of Tsar Drago’s, priest?”

“Because he tried to have you killed.” You say flatly. Locking eyes with her, “I want to know what would make you so dangerous to him that he felt you needed to die.”

She regards you for a moment. “Drago spooks at shadows, fearing and killing anyone who is capable and might present a danger to him.” She collapses on to the cot. Her eyes downcast, her voice low “I just never thought he would try to have me killed. I’ve served him loyally.”

You approach; she makes no move to attack, “May I?” She nods. Gently pushing back her shirt, you uncover tear in her flank, made by a serrated blade. It is outlined by angry red flesh. As you touch it, she winces. As you probe the wound, she involuntarily clutches the mattress. “Do you know why he wanted you dead?”

“Drago is secretive. Maybe he thinks I know something that was worth killing for.”

“Do you?” You ask as you begin healing her wound.

She seems hesitant. “Before I share what know, how do you intend to deal with the tsar? Do you have supporters?”

“I was hoping to have your support. I have some followers of my own, but I need to know if I can count you among them.”

She reflects for a moment. “Some time ago, the tsar kept a Khinasi captive. The man was,” her voice drops, “a sorcerer. Drago kept him for a while, to torture at first. Then one day, the Khinasi disappeared. It was said that he was killed, but the people were deceived. I saw him, he was alive, and ....”

“Go on.”

“Have you ever wondered how Drago’s enemies seemed to die of unnatural causes, sometimes without a mark? Or how he seems to know things that no man should know?” She notes your curiosity. “Drago walks the path of magic.”

Your companions gasp and swear under their breath.

Kasimir leans down next to you, “It would seem that she does know a secret that is worth killing for. What do we do? We only have her word that the Tsar is a sorcerer, it might not be enough to convince the brotherhood, not with Sugat holding the reins.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s a start.” Looking at Kara, “It is my intent to rise to head of the One True Church and to supplant Drago as tsar of Molochev. Will you help me, Kara Daincer?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Are there any who are still loyal to you?”

“Yes.”

“Gather them and await word from me. I will send one of those present when the time comes. Now, we must rest. For I must return to the capital.”

And in the morning, you and your men leave Kara and ride South to see what word awaits you.