Marichka the Unbreakable

For the longest time, Marichka’s life did not seem blessed. Born into the service of Malevena Neferas, a Dark Elven sorceress, all Marichka knew of her true parents is what she was told. Her mother had been taken captive, and her father killed, in a raid by Malevena’s servants on a trade caravan. Malevena attempted to ransom Marichka’s mother back to several lords, but she had refused to tell them her name, and no lord would pay the ransom for an unnamed hostage. So, Marichka’s mother was placed into servitude within Malevena’s derasar — the sorceress’ temple — the Sanctum of Midnight Dreams. Weeks later, she died in labor. Feeling a twisted form of pity for the orphan Marichka, Malevena chose to raise her as her own. But the dark sorceress saw only an opportunity to raise an apprentice, not a child. Marichka was forced into intense training and study of shadow magic as soon as she was able to walk. For two decades, her every waking hour was filled with study, practice, and evaluation in the immediate presence of her mistress. After she had become a formidable sorceress in her own right, Marichka escaped the derasar by using a spell to blast through its six walls. Malevena sent dozens of mercenaries after Marichka, but the girl’s skills as a sorceress made her difficult to track. Still, magic leaves traces, and the sorceress’ servants were able to pursue her to the plains of Tilshire, east of Durham Forest. As Marichka sprinted across the plains, hunters at her heels, she slung spell after spell behind her to maim or kill as many as she could. Her attempts caught the attention of wandering Taras, who had been traveling to Tilshire to claim a bounty. He turned his horse to the battle and rode to the aid of the lone girl, saber drawn. Taras rode down many of Marichka’s pursuers before his horse was run through with a spear. He leapt from his steed before it fell to the ground, and laid Malevena’s hunters low. He cut them down one by one, his saber a storm, his strikes lightning. Marichka joined the fight, hurling spells at any who threatened to overwhelm her savior. Together, they drove her pursuers into a retreat. Taras brought Marichka to his homestead, in the north of the Tilshire plains, where she could recuperate, and form plans for the immediate future. Marichka was not quick to trust Taras, for in the derasar, no kindness was without an unspoken expectation. She took leave in the night, but not without Taras’ keen ears hearing a gate clatter close. He followed her, for her own protection. This proved wise, for Malevena, furious at the failure of the first party, had come for Marichka herself. Unbeknownst to Marichka and Taras, the remnants of the first party had followed them at a careful distance, found the homestead, and had then taken this knowledge to their mistress. As Marichka skulked through the night, she was ambushed. Fighting off her attackers in a strategic retreat back to Taras’ homestead, Marichka bought herself enough time for Taras to see flashes of magic in the distance. While dozens of Malevena’s untrained fanatics posed little threat to Marichka and Taras, the presence of the dark sorceress gave Marichka little hope of escape. Only the knowledge that Malevena wanted her alive gave Marichka the edge. Using the most dangerous magic she knew, she launched explosive fireballs, deadly miasmic clouds, and sharpened stones at her mistress. Malevena was forced onto the defensive, enraged that she had taught Marichka too much too quickly. Taras fought off the foot soldiers with ease, with the light of clashing spells bathing the battlefield in eerie glows of crimson, green, and yellow. As her fighters were slain around her, Malevena reluctantly ordered a retreat, fearing the combined might of her relentless enemy. While the battle was lost, Malevena chose to bide her time — the opportunity to reclaim her apprentice would one day present itself. Taras returned home with a weak and frail Marichka. The old warrior nursed the wounded sorceress back to health, doting on Marichka day and night until she recovered. She was so moved by Taras’ care for her that when the time came for her to leave, Marichka refused to go. An unbreakable bond had been forged. From that point on, Taras took care of her as a daughter, not an apprentice, and Marichka learned all she could from the wise man of the plains. The two fought side by side for many years, entering at annals of legend as stalwart defenders of those who yearn for freedom. They are now said to ride together at the head of the Arbiter’s host, heralded by hoofbeats and a bold song of victory.