In a forgotten corner of a remote, mountainous kingdom lay a village nestled on the side of a mountain. The village, named on only the most complete of the Tsar’s maps, was called Adishi. The people who lived there were strong and hearty though not overly fertile and the village seemed to stay a fixed, healthy population with few people leaving and even fewer coming. For the road to get to this village was long and difficult, in winter it was all but unpassable. The journey was so arduous that most years the Tax-collector didn’t bother coming. The taxes collected in Adishi were never worth the time it took to get there. The villagers did not mind this in the least. They had all that they needed and a bit to spare, with a little hard work on their part the mountain gave them all they needed.
The only people who bothered coming up the mountain now and again where the priests of the white god. They came in a procession every few years, bearing their god who hung suffering for all to see into the village like a murder of crows. They came, took up residence in the village hall and began to preach. They spoke their message, dipped the youngest additions to the village in water and eventually left feeling like they had saved the villagers from themselves. The village as a whole did not mind, the Tsar had sent the priests after all and they were not after gold. So they bowed their heads, rolled their eyes in private and let the crows do what they would, knowing it would be quicker that way. When the priests left they pulled the cloths off their shrines and went on with their days.
On their own the villagers kept to the old ways. They left offerings for the gods of Sun and Moon and celebrated on their feast days. They left gifts for the spirits who had once tended the houses, the Domovoi and the Kikimora, who had not been seen in several generations but were honored nevertheless. They revered their ancestors, sacrificed animals to honor the dead and gathered together to feast on the offering and remember the life that had passed. They did this all under the watchful eye of the Witch.
Or Witches, because no one was ever certain how many there were. Anyone visiting the witch was as likely to see a young slip of a maiden as they were to meet with an old crone or a woman in between. She or they lived up the mountain on a path that made the road to Adishi look like an easy stroll. But still the villagers went up the path, to get blessings or gain advice and they would come away with what they needed from whoever it was they met. Whether one or three they were each called Lumilla and they all bore the same dark eyes, the same kind smile and the same regal manner that commanded respect and just a little fear. No one ever saw them perform magic, for magic had been gone from the kingdom so long that no living person could recall it, but not a single one of the villagers doubted her power. Moreover not a single one of them mentioned her when strangers were about, especially the crows. Thus their silence kept her hidden and there was no doubt in anyone’s heart that she kept them safe.
No one ever starved in Adishi no matter how harsh the winter. Their crops never truly failed, no matter the droughts or blights that wracked nearby villages. When the mountain shuddered one winter, back when the grandmothers were but suckling babes, the village was kept safe from the avalanches that followed. The villages lower on the mountain were not so lucky and the number of dead there was high. Thus Adishi was blessed, they were safe and it was understood in an unspoken manner that it was because of the witch. In return, because they always had, they gifted her with silence.
Welcome to Adishi! In this RP you will play a humble peasant in a small village that seems right out of a Russian or Slavic Fairy tale. Your family has lived there for generations and life is simple, or at least it was. Things are changing in the land, waking up, getting loose and you and your fellow players will be the ones to set things straight.
You do not need to be an expert in Russian Fairy tales, I certainly am not. I am going for the atmosphere, the feel of it, the darkness and the light. If you’ve heard of Baba Yaga and or Vasalisa you are versed enough. You will see I have taken some liberties with the tales, the area and things in general and will continue to do so. This will be a low magic fantasy with a Russian/Slavic feel. Your characters will not have magic but magic will increasingly be a thing to contend with in the world. Your characters will know each other since they are part of the same small village so you are encouraged to work out relationships and connections as you make your characters.
This will be an advanced RP though I am not expecting pages and pages for each post, the site minimum or more will do. I do expect decent grammar (decent, not perfect) as long as your posts are comprehensible I can work with it. The pacing is where I will be more stringent. If you are one of those people who post once a week or less, please look elsewhere. If you feel like you can manage a post every few days or more, welcome!
There will be more information to come in the OOC but I welcome questions and banter here while I see who’s interested.
