Two fighters and a bard go on an adventure across Russia, into lands of fairytales and the living dead. Contains gritty action, low fantasy inspiration, a mildly fresh take on vampires, a dash of medieval politics, and in my personal opinion, one of the best examples in fiction on how to play a bard right.
Should any of these tickle your fancy, you may like this comic. Feel free to discuss vampires, bards, Russia, or any combination of them, while you read.
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”Once upon a time, wherever, somewhere beyond the infinite ocean,
at the threshold to the gateway of Hell, there was a great oak tree.
The tree had seventy-seven roots, and seventy-seven branches,
and on every root there stood seventy-seven dragons,
and on every branch there sat seventy-seven ravens.
Who does not listen to this story,
let seventy-seven dragons devour his soul
and seventy-seven crows claw out his eyes.
Once upon a time there was a man, with a wife, a son, and one cow.”
Allegedly the beginning to a Transylvanian tale called ”Son of a Brown Cow”.
(I don't know if such a tale actually exists. I tried to look it up but found nothing. If there are any Romanians in the audience who do in fact know that it exists, feel free to let me know how I butchered it.)
”He can hear you, my lord!”
”He sees you, my lord!”
”He is here!”
”Oh, look how beautiful he is! Do you see his soul?”
”It is splendid, my lord.”
”Exquisitely radiant, my lord.”
”Meh. If poets are your thing...”
”Gah! Blasted dreams!”
”Nightmares again?”
”No wonder! Under the circumstances you should be more astounded I could sleep at all!”
”All the alcohol can't have hurt with that...”
”Oh Alenuska, do you have to start this right in the morning... did anything happen over the night?”
”Prince Shulgin's men have celebrated their conquest, pillaging, raping, what do you think!!”
”Prince Shulgin is a lecherous swine!”
”You might want to change that opinion by tonight.”
”The prince has sent you, personally, an invitation. He would wish the great Valentin Kozinets to laud for prince Shulgin in tonight's festival!”
”Ha! From whose ass am I supposed to pull a song by tonight?”
”He wished that you would alter the song of Tsar Ivan to concern himself instead.”
”I would never!!”
”Tsar Ivan IV is the greatest man of our time! The unificator of Russia! The vanguisher of Mongols! He will swat down some pathetic little rebel prince such as Shulgin, as easily as he would swat a fly!”
”Why, you sad old drunk!”
Moscov is far away from us, the Tsar cares little about what's going on here! But say a word against prince Shulgin and our lives will be forfeit!”
”That's just what a poet wants – to die for the sake of truth!”
”Well, I have no intention to throw my life away for you, Valentin! I've let you stay under my roof, kept up your rakish lifestyle, never asked a thing in return! Now you will swallow your pride and do as Shulgin tells you!”
”Alenuska.”
”Suppose I spoke to Igor or Boris...”
”Both dead! Do you not understand already that what Shulgin says, goes!”
”The only reason we still live is that he likes your work! You just alter a few words in one little song and that's it. Poetry is not worth dying for, right?”
”Right?”
”Poets, scribes, teachers, noblemen, alchemists...”
”Going to be a rich harvest this year.”
”This is never going to work.”
”The Tsar has instructed us to fetch Valentin Kozinets. Whether it's even possible does not concern him.”
”Chainmail?”
”Civilian. Shulgin realizes we work for Tsar Ivan, and that'll be it for us. There's only one way out of the city.”
”If anybody asks, we're carpet merchants from Ukraine.”
”Carpet merchants?”
”We don't even have any!”
”We left them to the camp outside the city, of course.”
”It's restless...”
”Let's take a shortcut through the alley...”
”Hail! We're carpent merchants from Ukraine!”
”We don't like that kind around these parts!”
”Now?”
”Fine. Remember, don't let a single man escape.”
”You dirty- AUGH!”
”Hey, they- GAH!”
”Have mer- GHH!!”
”And now we put this awkward incident out of our minds.”
”Could you good ladies direct us to Valentin Kozinets?”
”Khrennkov's tavern...”
”Thank you.”
”Someone really should do away with Shulgin!”
”Valentin Kozinets?”
”Over there in the corner, milords.”
”You tell your lord that I am not going to sing a thing for him! And he can do whatever he likes to me for that, so long as he leaves Alenuska alone!”
”No, no, no, you've got us all wrong.”
”We work for Tsar Ivan the Terrible. We've come to get you out of here.”
”You are!!!”
”I knew it! I knew it!” Tsar has finally recognized the worth in my work! Pavel, go get Alenuska! We're out to Moscow!”
”Uh... but... oh, make it quick!”
”We have to get out of here, fast!!”
”Leonov, vodka! Vodka for all! Time to celebrate! Come give Valentin a kiss, Tatjana!”
I'm no poet myself, so I'm not really going to even bother trying to translate these, rhymes and all. If there are more talented Finns in the audience, feel free to give it a go. Suffice to say he's singing a happy song about horns, and singing people, and a hero that's just beaten some great monster – just the sort of stuff you'd like to listen about if said monster actually still ruled the place.
”Ma'am, we must hurry!”
”I'm only here to say that I'm not going. Leave without me.”
”But... your husband...?”
”He's no such thing. I'm just some rich widow that's let Valentin live with me, fed him, drank him, clothed him... six years. He never proposed.”
”His heart left me many years ago. I'm not going to come with him to Moscow just to see him wander farther away still.”
”I hope the fool finds his fortune...”
”We're off, Valentin.”
”But... but Alenuska?”
”She won't join us.”
”What do you mean she won't? Alenuska! ALENUSKA!!”
”Well met, noble outlanders. I am prince Sergei Shulgin. Are you in such a rush to leave our beautiful city already?”
”Hail! We're carpet merchants from Ukraine...”
”Oh, drop it!”
”I must admit that I am a little disappointed. I thought Tsar Ivan would have sent a host of men to do battle with me... or at least a patrol of his best men.”
”Instead he throws at me a comely youth and a half-blind old codger. I cannot imagine you to be a threat of any kind.”
”Maybe we can change that impression.”
”Do you see that hawk?”
”I's like a bow and one arrow.”
”Give them to him.”
”You will never hit it from such a distance, old man!”
”Well, no, I won't... But I will shoot you down before any of your men get in the way!”
”Tell your men to drop their weapons! I'm an old man, and my fingers get so tired so fast...”
”Still nothing. Shulgin's men really believed us, and didn't try to follow.”
”Good. Time to set him free.”
”What?!”
”You know what a monster Shulgin is... and you set him free just the same?!”
”Thank you... thank you...”
”We promised him.”
”He will take his vengeance on Alenuska, then come back to hunt us down!”
”He'll take no vengeance on anyone anymore.”
”Peasants have seen Shulgin roaming here... in their lands... all alone.”
”So we leave Shulgin to the people and ride on. It's full moon – we can go on all night. Make some distance to this land.”
”We can rest here.”
”Rest? It's already dawn.”
”Still, thank the mother of God! I couldn't have kept myself up a moment more...”
”A moment more, in fact...”
”You must take care of your horse first.”
”No can do. I don't have the energy to play stable boy! Ask me again in the morning...”
”This noble animal is your horse. He will carry you. So you name him and treat him well!”
”But... I'm a poet!”
”We have a many weeks of hard journey ahead of us, through untamed and hostile wilderness... if your horse grows ill, you will have to walk. Do you understand?”
”I don't know how to treat a horse!”
”Then look what I do. Repeat after me. Ask.”
”This fearsome beast is henceforth named 'Nuisance'!”
”However you like. But you also have the choice of whether the one beneath you is a loyal friend of an irreconcilable enemy.”
”Ten years from now, I will remember all this and I will laugh...”
Some pictures are upside-down.
”We will ride across the swamp, pass the town from west, and carry on north by the stream.”
”Kikimora lives at the swamp. We go around.”
”Father Timoteus says Kikimora is naught but baseless superstition.”
”And it's how I'd like to know him... we go around.”
”Good morning.”
”In yesterday's pandemonium I didn't even think to ask your names!”
”Andrej Kutuzov.”
”Nikolai Ptushko”
”We are special agents of the Tsar, Oprichniki.”
”This is a secret quest. We bear no insignia whatsoever.”
”I say!”
”Who could have guessed the great Tsar to hold me in such a high regard. It is fortunate that I have such a song to perform for him.”
”Well... we're not going back to the court...”
”We are emissaries of the Tsar. Our mission is to meet the king of vampires.”
”What?!”
Oh.
Well... shit. I thought I flipped them over, and it stuck.
Save them on your computer, right-click, "rotate right/left" a couple times. Should do it.
”Our Tsar Ivan earned his moniker ”The Terrible” as he heroically drove the Mongols away from Russia. The king of vampires wrote to him and proposed an alliance to keep them gone forever.”
”The church of course wouldn't accept such a thing, hence all this secrecy.”
”Wh-what does this have to do with me?”
”The king of vampires asked, as a gesture of goodwill, but one thing...”
”He would like the great poet, Valentin Kozinets, to join his court.”
”The Tsar plans to gift me to the lord of bloodsuckers like a box of jewelry?!!”
”Yes, and it is all for the good of Russia.”
”No one just hands me over like that to anyone!! A poet is meant to be free!”
”You shut up and listen!!”
”You did not fight in Kazan or Astrakhan as our blades saw the Mongols out of our lands! The soldiers give their lives in service to the Tsar and the fatherland, every single day! You poets just love to praise these heroes to the heavens, but don't do a thing themselves!”
”Calm down!”
”The king of vampires admires your work. He would not wish any harm to come to you.”
”But if he did, it wouldn't change anything about your task, would it?”
”He is right, you know...”
”Don't start, Andrej...”
”What we do to him is wrong. A sin.”
”It's an order!”
”If he knew how the Tsar has changed since Anastasia's death, I wonder if he'd still sing those praises of his.”
”Ivan the Terrible is a righteous ruler! Our lord and master!”
”If orders are all that we care about, then what separates us from Shulgin's men?”
”So who is this king of vampires, anyway?”
”A hero, by reputation.”
”His name is Volk Vseslavevits.”
”Volk Vseslavevits!!”
”You know him.”
”He's a favored subject of the old storytellers!”
”His mother was a young Tsar's daughter Marfa Vseslavevna, and his father was a snake! When he was born, Kiev's sky was lit by an unnaturally large moon, earth shook, and sea roared.”
”The boy grew into a mighty sorcerer and sage. At the age of fifteen he gathered seven thousand men to serve under him and fight the Golden Horde.”
”He could take the shape of a hawk, a wolf, an ox with golden horns, and a goat, perhaps others. It is said he eventually conquered a distant kingdom and settled there with his men.”
”If we're headed to the court of the king of vampires, then there would have to be a kingdom of vampires as well. Imagine what manner of a place it'd have to be.”
”There are many bizarre nations in the world. Scholars say the arimaspi people of Africa have no heads. They have faces in their chests instead.”
”Or what the Mongols say about the northern dogheaded people, or the folk that live under the earth like moles.”
”We all know vampires are soulless bloodsuckers. Can you tell us more than that?”
”They are creatures of darkness.”
”You can only kill a vampire with a weapon made out of wood or silver, or with holy objects or fire. They command all beasts of the night, and according to some can take the forms of animals, mist, or become tiny.”
”That's some stuff.”
”If this Volk of yours can command all bloodsuckers too, then how about he told these damnable mosquitoes to leave us alone!”
...
”Let's drop the jokes for tonight.”
Out in the steppes, days pass by without much remarkable to say of any of them.
”What town is this... or, was?”
”Impossible to say.”
”When the Mongols took Russia, they demanded immediate surrender of all cities. Unconditional. The slightest resistance, and every single resident was killed and the buildings razed.”
”For every destroyed city, countless others surrendered. Of their residents only some were killed, the rest enslaved.”
”They must never rule this country again!”
Täällähän on ihan ehta kulttuuriteko käynnissä
”The steppes have such quiet nights.”
”Why not recite some of your poetry for us, Valentin?”
”Hah! You jest!”
”I mean it. We know your work in Moscow!”
”'Son of Russia', 'Prisoner of Tatars', 'Song of the Ferryman'...”
”Really?”
”I suppose I could perform some of my later work... let's see... yes, this one is 'Long Night'.”
It's a long night (as is in the name), the autumn strikes down his mad dreams, saps his strength like sand in hourglass, the blade of cold weather strikes him down, delusional dreams lighting his path to hell. All very bleak and angsty.
Ehkä jos osaisin nuo runot paremmin ja kuvat oikein päin...
”That... was desolate.”
”I always liked your rhymes in 'Rage of the Poet':” (Heroes die under the sword but not this guy, laughing at the face of the gods even in the face of persecution, hunger, or cold. Kind of ironic from Andrej, who always seemed the most pious of this lot.)
”Or-” (The lord's lot is sad and humorless, where singer brings joy with him, helping on carry the heavy load of a worker with his song.)
”Why did you change your style?”
”I... don't know. It just happened...”
”Shh... listen!”
”Someone's sobbing...”
”Look at that...”
”An old pagan sacrificial site.”
”I don't hear the sobbing anymore!”
”No one's been here in a long time...”
”Strange... we heard it here.”
”Nikolai! What're you doing?”
”You are a city man, Andrej. The church rules all there...”
”But I'm from the country, and I think the place of gods is beside one another, not atop.”
”Only ghosts move here. Let's go back to bed.”
”A good idea!”
”Valentin, if the king of vampires is planning something for you, we...”
”I don't really fear him.”
”You don't? What do you fear, then?”
”Oblivion. Being forgotten. As do all poets.”
”I have been a poet for many years. I seek the glory and recognition, yet always see it dodge me and go bless some other soul instead. Your arrival made me think, for a moment, that my luck had turned at last...”
”Now I fear I will be forever forgotten in some accursed land of the living dead!”
”Soldiers fear so much simpler things...”
”I'm an old man. I fear I die somewhere far from home, to never see my loved ones again.”
”You Nikolai must fear nothing then.”
”I fear evil spirits as anyone else does... and that my mission ends in a failure.”
”Hah! Tonight we sleep within four walls!”
”Come along, Valentin...”
”I'll just take care of Nuisance first.”
”They have stableboys here for that.”
”I mean no offense to them, but Nuisance really doesn't like strangers. I won't be long...”
”Aah! Genuine beer, it's been too long!”
”Fresh bread! How can it even smell so good!”
”Alexander Petrov, poet-singer, at your service... for your entertainment I would like to recite 'The Gift of the Singer' by Valeri Koziner!”
It's a song about his sole gift from God – storytelling – which alternates between warming his soul and tearing it to bits.
”You bastard! It's mi-umf!”
”Sshh! Not now!”
”We cannot give ourselves away. It would put our quest in jeopardy.”
”I'm sorry that we couldn't do anything. It had to be horrible! They got your name wrong too!”
”The tune was entirely new, many of the lines altered...”
”Some verses had been left out altogether... but the very worst bit?”
”It was better than the original.”
”Really?”
”Someone's been fixing the ending chords that stumbled... any verses left off were, now that I think about it, just pointless repetition of what we heard...”
”My poem has improved on the way.”
”Sometimes it goes like that.”
”An ambush! Bandits!”
”Get 'em!”
”Valentin! Jump over, hurry!”
”No!! Nuisance!!”
”You piece of shit!”
”Valentin's still there! We have to go back!”
”Chainmail?”
”No time!”
”Valentin! Here!”
”Die, you devils!!”
”Don't let them get away!”
”Looks like it's over.”
”Andrej... oh, holy Mary...”
”Don't fuss about it... it's nothing...”
”Andrej... not now! Not like this...”
”Stop it... *cough*... I'm not about to die of this... still talking...”
Greatest heroes are dust on the road, their horses swallowed by abyss. Gleam of armor goes unremembered in the flowery glens.
Where blood roils, wide rivers run cold, desolation the only reward of your handiwork. A hero falls weary in the woods, unwritten to books, naught but earth of his size and an eternal night.
(I did mention I'm no poet. I actually tried to translate this one a little better. He deserved it. Still sucks. I'm sorry.)
”This is like... like some...”
”A harbor. Up in the mountains. I have heard of it.”
”It's been countless eons, has to be, since sea swept across these lands, but you still find petrified seashells at the harbors.”
”No one knows what the statues depicted. They were already defaced when man first saw them.”
”But it is said that when clouds cover the harbor, ships still sail in it, bringing and taking amazing things...”
”We're nearing in on our destination.”
”Look! What's that?”
”It's a Mongol!”
”Dead, dried up. Someone stuck him up here like a scarecrow. People here really have no love for Mongols, looks like.”
”Pardon me, sirs...”
”Sirs Valentin Kozinets and Nikolai Ptushko... welcome to the domain of king Vseslavevits.”
”Look! There's more of them...”
”Shush...”
”You may wait for dark in our village. Then our lord will summon you.”
”At least the service could be worse.”
”Though my appetite could be better.”
”Excited?”
”You're not? This all feels so... unnatural!”
”These are strange folk, but at least they're still people.”
”What're they doing now?”
”Aah.”
”Step into the carriage, good sirs. The king will see you now.”
”We keep on rising higher still.”
”Nikolai, look outside... you have to see this.”
”The city of the vampires.”
”Welcome, noble sirs. Oh how I have looked forward to meet you.”
”This is an immeasurable honor to me, Valentin. Can I call you Valentin?”
”Ah... sure.”
”Have we met?”
”In dreams, at most... but now come! The night is young!”
”I trust you already ate, so I only got you some wine.”
”Your highness, Tsar Ivan the Fourth would like to make a deal with you...”
”Yes, yes, that dull contract! Done! Deal! I will keep the Mongols far away. But now, let us celebrate! Music!”
”Uh... thank you, but... well...”
”We have the finest dancers, the most magnificent musicians, countless great artists... oh just wait till I get to introduce you to all the wonders of our city!”
”Yes... what do you want of me exactly, your highness?”
”Just call me Volk... I wish to offer you a gift, one artists and rulers have coveted for millennia.”
”Immortality... no ambiguous and uncertain mockery in books or statues, but the real thing! Life eternal!”
”I... it...”
”Your vein of poetry would never run out, your creative work would never end before its time! No one could steal your credit, no one could twists its words! You would always be here to remind them.”
”Here no war or hunger or disease would touch you... imagine what you would write when you are a hundred years old... or two hundred... a thousand years old...”
”You offer me a great gift indeed, but that would make me a vampire, would it not?”
”Yes, but you would not change beyond that!”
”Oh, but I would... my poems are born out of mortality and shortcomings, do you not see? A man should live out of the poet – not the poet out of the man.”
”Forgive me, but I must decline your gift.”
”Ah... I feared that you would...”
”So I had your wine drugged.”
”Your highness, what...?!”
”You cursed...!”
”Put your sword away, Nikolai.”
”Your Tsar wishes his contract at any means necessary, and you know this, do you not? Tomorrow night I will turn your friend to a vampire. Then he too will appreciate the gift...”
”As an ambassador, you will have a mansion near the village and as many human servants as you wish. You can believe me when I say that this will make everyone involved in this happy.”
”Are the grounds as you wish them, my lord?”
”These could be fit for the Tsar himself.”
”Shall I have them make dinner...?”
”I'm not hungry. I think I will go ride a bit.”
”Will you be gone for long?”
”I'm afraid so, my friend... I'm afraid so...”
”I have ten hours to find Valentin as the vampires sleep in the day... it should be enough...”
”I only wonder, why have the villagers not disposed of the vampires during daytime?”
”A thousand devils!”
”What godless beasts are you?!”
”Sentinels of the vampire king?”
”Too many... have to get farther... away...”
”Whaddya doing to it?”
”Extracting the pain from the wound. Preventing life from fading out of him.”
”He's waking up...”
”Good! Then we can eat it!”
”You idiot! I wouldn't save his life to end up as your meal!”
”Oh?”
”Oh, good morning, noble knight.”
”What... but... the Mongols?”
”...cannot see us right now. We will be at peace.”
”Wh... who are you?”
”No names, thank you. If you knew my name, then I really would have to kill you.”
”I should be dead... the arrow...”
”Right here. It should no longer bother you.”
”There we go, now go, bugger off back home.”
”Why... why are you helping me?”
”You helped my poor little son, remember? The cross? The sobbing? He was stuck, in a small crack under the cross.”
”I can't leave... I must rescue my friend.”
”From the city of the vampires?! The apple of king Vseslavevits? Madness! You will die!”
”Thank you for your help, friend.”
”Wait, wait! If you really plan to go get yourself killed, at least take three gifts from me!”
”Three... hmm. My friend alive, Volk's head on a platter, and a ride home!”
”Do I look like the genie of the lamp, hmm? You get what I have to offer.”
”Well... what can you offer me?”
”First, a sword! The finest sword in the world! Cuts even undead.”
”That works for me, but we have very little time. Is it far from here?”
”Right here.”
”There's a door here?”
”Feh! You shouldn't leave doors anywhere! You never know when to need them.”
”So I always carry them with me.”
”Where are you taking me?”
”To meet the king.”
”The king under the mountain.”
”Here. He's not going to wake up in a while. You may well borrow it.”
”What if I... lose it?”
”Don't worry about that. The sword knows its own way back. It's been borrowed before.”
”And now?”
”You'll have to go alone from here on. You'll gain light next... then knowledge.”
”Light? Knowledge?”
”Goodbye, Nikolai Ptushko. Walk with your eyes shut. If you open them, you will die in a way no man has died in centuries. You may open your eyes when you hear your name.”
”Beautiful boy.” ”Beautiful knight.” ”Love us.” Laughter.
”Coward...” ”Craven...” Fight ussss...”
”Look out!” ”Watch out!” ”You're falling!” ”Take our hands!”
”Welcome, Nikolai Ptushko.”
Bumping
”You have come for my light.”
”Here. It will never go out. It will break the charm, show things as they truly are.”
”But my lady... that will leave you to the dark!”
”All has its time. This was the palace of light once. One after another the lights went out in the immeasurable eons. Darkness is inevitable.”
”Your stomach...”
”My son is the mightiest sage in the world. I did not let him to be born, as I wanted to keep his power. Do not pity me. I am a cruel old woman.”
”I... I have to go...”
”Farewell, Nikolai Ptushko.”
”This can't be!”
”Nikolai Ptushko.”
Thank you.
”Come on in, young man. I will not eat you...”
”From you I gain... knowledge?”
”Of course. I will show you the way to your friend.”
”I know where he is!”
”The city of the vampires is vast. You will never find him in time!”
”Hrm... you must be speaking the truth.”
”But old Baba is a lazy guide. Now kneel on the ground.”
”What are you doing now?”
”I play with you, what do you think?”
”This is stupid! How long do I have to stay like this?”
”Anyone hear me?! Damn it...”
”Ready or not, I'm coming out now...”
”Oh... Nikolai? What's going on?”
”The lamp! It must've broken the charm you were under!”
”You are in the city of the vampires. Volk plans to make you a permanent resident the coming night!”
”You... came to rescue me?”
”We have to get out of here before the sun sets.”
”Uh... have a look outside.”
”They're not coming to the city. But they wait us out there.”
”No one gets out alive!”
”What if we burn the city?”
”Wood is all too wet here...”
”Hang on now! If we slay the head vampire, the rest may go with him!”
”I don't know... do you think so?”
”That's the plan. Let me know if you get a better idea on the way – I don't like this one so much!”
”Where do you think Volk is staying?”
”Try the basement of the king's castle. I doubt he knows to fear us.”
”Ever wetter mud... like swamp!”
”Without his spell to keep up appearances, this is a pretty horrifying place!”
”Look, there's one of them! She's asleep!”
”Ooh! Do you realize what vampires are?!”
”It's like a pumpkin grown in a bottle.”
”Plants? I don't get it.”
”You plant the infected body into dirt, and the plants fill it up like roots would a pot... it's a night plant! Hibernating by day, then waking up again... sucking blood like a venus flytrap!”
”It takes the exact shape of its vessel... but it's still a different creature.”
”So... we're seeking the main root?”
”There are hundreds of them!”
”No time to stay and destroy them all! Let's look for Volk!”
”There! I see his tomb.”
”Wait! I fear...”
”Caw! Fear what?!”
”What?! What do you fear?! Caw!”
”By God!”
”What god?!”
”What?!”
”You-”
”The sword-”
”No!”
”No what?!”
”I am very disappointed in you.”
”Nikolai!! No!”
”Thank you for your hospitality...”
”But you must die so that we may live!!”
”Oh, you poor boy.”
”Fool! I am the king of vampires, not their father! The bosom of the earth holds far older beings than you can imagine!”
”Do you wish to go seek for him? I can send you the right way!”
”You will not kill him. You will give him back to me alive and unharmed.”
”He tried to kill me first, Valentin.”
”You will obey me... or else I will speak a poem!”
”A poem? You plan to hurt me with a poem?”
”A cruel poem indeed, of dirt and rot... of pale frightful creatures, that scurry away from the light when the stone they hide under is upturned!”
”I could kill you!”
”Undoubtedly.”
”But the memory and the knowledge of the poem I plan to recite, it would gnaw upon your thoughts for the rest of eternity, like a starved rat!”
”I only wanted to give sanctuary to your genius...”
”I know. And I thank you for that.”
”We are leaving.”
”I'm sorry.”
”What about... the contract?”
”This was never about some contracts. I would be fighting the Mongols anyway.”
”Valentin, are you coming?”
”You go ahead.”
”I will stay behind to say a few more words. A song of the children of the night.”
”A song of the night's clarity and silence... of the scent of cool earth and the cold stars high above. An ode of beauty and longing.”
”All done?”
”Did I keep you waiting?”
”Well, I had company.”
”And you had much to talk about, I bet...”
”You are one marvelous man, Valentin Kozinets!”
”A fool, that's what I am!”
”And now I plan to go and tell it to the woman I love!”
”That I really must see!”
-FIN-
I wept for the horse, but not the man.
A good read.
I loved this story, OP!
Got to say that as whole it had a few moments of pure genius: plus it was quite nice to see how the bard resolved the situation at the end.
All right so we all know about Baba Yaga, but how much of the rest is real russian mythology? How much is just the author's bullshit?
this is someone's fetish
Isn't everything?
my only fetishes are cute tau and elf girls
bump
Fairy tales are steeped in fetishes, dear user. This is nothing.
Great story OP. I like how simple yet effective it is.
That was good Op, Funland has some good comics. I remember one about some dungeon delver or robbers than died like flies than where very fun.
OWNED
That one was Praedor, I believe, by the same artist. I remember it posted here as well.
It was posted here, but can't find the thread anymore.
Praedor - The King's Children
www71.zippyshare.com
Posted as is without any guarantees of anything.
Oh nice, thanks for that brosky.
I think they did a Rpg based on it. Difficult to find any kind of info unless you speak spurdo.
Also there are three more comics than probably will never ever be translated...
As someone that owns the book and speaks spurdo, Praedor RPG is a classless system that follows the WFRP philosophy of super-lethal combat. You'll want to avoid fights if at all possible, because (as seen in this comic, which could well have used the system) a single well-aimed arrow can instantly end the life of even a high-level character.
It's a pretty decent system for what it sets out to do, and it'd be nice to see it translated to English.
It's based in BRP? Lots of those games are d100 based.
And I love brp.
Praedor only uses d6s.
Wow, that's got a whole lot more bell curve then. Those are always fun.
Was the fighter smart, or the prince a fucking idiot?
How often have your players charged right into a fight they should've avoided?
All I get is a bunch of spam and ads.