November 2019
Several miles from Dolmscher, Barbarus Province, Great Morstaybishlia, formerly the Grand Matriarchy of Ethalria
There was an eerie silence. The space so quiet that you could hear the occasional droplets of moisture falling from the ceiling and hitting a small liquid surface that had accumulated on the floor. Finally after so long, the door creaked open, very slowly indeed, to a silhouette of a tall woman barely visible in the darkness that the only thing you could possibly make out was the glint of her fiery ginger hair. She very carefully took one step at a time over broken glass and abandoned belongings from a time long forgotten; a time of chaos and turmoil, a time of bloodshed and tyranny. She was old enough that she remembered it all.
The room was most certainly damp. It had been slowly eaten away by it, the effect of which the woman noticed most vividly as she bent over and picked up a helmet; which heretofore had not been buried or burnt, damaged in any physical way during its time of service, but which corrosion by water damage had eaten away so much. She made her way over to the mantelpiece and placed the helmet down. She took her finger and ran it slowly over a disgustingly dusty surface until it reached something solid. She brought a torch on it with her other hand. She turned and nodded as if for the other women to get over here. With a crowd of three she took her thumb and wiped the dust off the glass to reveal two long, fancy black clock hands. One struck at forty and the other at two. The best marvel of the mantelpiece clock of this era was not yet revealed; so she took her thumb and wiped where it should be. Ethalrian mantelpiece clocks of this time was made with a date. It read the second of January 1975; the day eternal hell reigned down on Ethalria. The day Ethalria was forever betrayed by their so called allies- the obliteration of millions of innocent lives left a void and an unparalleled level of hatred against Norograd, something she vehemently resents them for. She never forgot the name of the orbital bombardment machine, the thing that killed everyone in her town. She looked at the women to her right and said one word.
“Kevatuul.”
[hr]
After a thorough inspection of the underground complex it was clear that despite it being in disuse and damp for so long, a restoration project could see it back to tip top condition within several months, and so that is what the group agreed on. It was a perfect location; the middle of nowhere, and forgotten about- simply left and bordered up by some local authority just over forty years ago. It would surely be an upgrade from the base of operations they were once using and a stepping stone to greater success. Despite this find and despite the rest of their team feeling ecstatic, the fiery ginger showed no smile. No sounds of satisfaction or happiness ever left her lips, and that was why she was the boss.
Recent events in the south west of her province had raised discontent among the group. Gertrude Ameliadotter had fallen just weeks ago to a power freak Lenski Sarinn and her two militaristic minions the Ifirate brothers. It wouldn’t be a problem if this government wasn’t communist. If they ever controlled the land they operated in, they would be all executed or exiled far far away. For communist belief, especially that of Lenski Sarinn, it could never accept religious adherents and that was evident with their expulsion of fellow Vaerists, but not just them; Thaerists from the north and Verians from the south of the continent where also affected, and religious leaders from all sides were absolutely fuming. But what could they do? There was nothing, international sanctions just made Sarinn laugh.