Story:
"Lyudi dobriye!" - shouted Tverdislav with sarcasm - "Dobro davayte!"
The Goths - or Dacians, as they called themselves - did not know Tripolean. That did not prevent them from understanding what was being said to them by the commander of ten horsemen. He wanted their food. And their gold, if they had any.
The village elder gestured for Tverdoslav to come near him with a smile. Feeling his superiority, Tverdoslav laughed and rode towards the elder. The elder's smile disappeared. He waved his hand, and suddenly, the farmers, the poor rabble who Tverdoslav ignored, held up weapons... strange weapons, of strange metal. Tverdoslav was rather surprised, but ofcourse tried to impale one with a spear. Then...
...he knew not how it happened, only that it did...
...the spear broke. The surrounded Tripolean raiders were quickly massacred with iron weapons.
---
In the sky, the Both Gods, who decided to punish Tripoleans for their arrogance were arguing. The Chernobog thought it served Tripoleans right. The Belobog, however, thought the Tripoleans deserved revenge. They needed assistance... What kind of assistance? Chernobog did not want to really assist them with divine intervention, for they might grow dependant on it and truth be said he did not want to help them. "Let them deal with it themselves", he said. But the Belobog proposed something different.
A sign.
---
"How did this happen?" - asked Bakoslav again. He was growing old very slowly, almost unnaturally so. Yet today, his hair was suddenly much grayer - "How did THIS happen?!" - he yelled with rage at the messanger. The messanger wore a black hat. He was a Black Messanger, a Bearer of Bad News. He was already mourned over and forgiven for his past misdoings. Now was his time to die.
Bakoslav thrust his spear through the Black Messanger's skull and cursed again. The messanger died, but it reminded him that his spear was bronze. He thought bronze to be the strongest metal. But now, it seemed that these odd Goth weapons were indeed made of a new metal, zhelezo. The knyazheskiy zodchiy, Knyaz's Seer, said that this metal could be found in Tripolean lands, near the village of Kursk. Already, the petty thieves were rounded up and sent to mine it. Weapons were to be forged. Revenge had to be taken.
Indeed, revenge WOULD be taken. The sacrificial stakes indicated that the Both Gods were on his side; that he was to fight, and to win, this war. Fight... or die.
Bakoslav stood up in all his height and looked in the direction of the distant Gothland/Dacia. Revenge will be his.