He saw the woman stumbling forward, heavily pregnant. It was just a matter of time before she fell and then the long hunt would be at and end. His master would be pleased. Failure was not an option though, as his master's wrath was often fatal to those he directed it at. Slowly sneaking up on her he knew the long hunt was finally at an end. Grinning to himself, he thought this was a fitting end to that noble line.

The woman stumbled forward. Half mad with snow sickness she no longer cared where she walked. Her only instinct was to protect the life growing in her womb these last several months. Knowing she was dying her mind returned to the fateful day, several weeks ago when those black clad raiders with their demon lords coming in their long-ships looted and pillaged her ancestral home. Fleeing the pursuing raiders, ever northwards she had lived off the land. She thought they no longer pursued her but still she felt compelled to walk northwards and now as she felt her strength ebbing she cried out to the gods. "Please help me! Please spare my child!" And perhaps the gods were feeling merciful that day, or it might be luck or that fickle fate decided to hear a dying woman's prayer. And then again it could be simple chance, ensuring that before she passed out she saw a pair of booted feet walking toward her. Or perhaps the gods are cruel as it's so often said, as the last thing she saw was a man dressed in black demonic armor lifting his sword for the killing strike.

Finally the hunt was at an end and her child would never be born, his master would be most pleased. Deciding he wanted her to die as painfully as possible to pay for his week long travels through this frozen wasteland he shifted his aim towards her head to stab her in the stomach instead.

The archer finally got close enough to shoot when the black clad man shifted his stance to stab the woman. He let loose his arrow and killed the marauder instantly! Praying he was not to late he quickly checked the woman for life. Finding that the woman was still breathing, he brought her as fast as he could to his small village in the northern reaches of Aethar. Unfortunately he was too late to save the woman but not the child she gave birth to just before dying.

The child named Artemis was a fast learner who made friends easily with the other children as he grew up. Having no real parents he was taught by the entire village, which was named Rjurik, how to hunt, what to hunt and when to run away. Life in this small mountain village was harsh and often cruel. For even though it often seemed their very nature was to fight them, their cruellest enemy was the neighboring clans, who they had been feuding with since time immemorial. Artemis had to learn warfare at an early age. Fortunately for the Rjurik people he proved very adept at it.

While growing up he often heard the story of how his mother was brought to the village, and about the man in who killed her. Desiring vengeance, he set out to find where this man came from. But all he knew of the man was that he carried a small symbol of a bat winged demon and had been clad in some sort of demonic black armor.

After several years, all he had managed to find out was that somewhere there was an organization that used the symbol of a winged demon, which was slowly infiltrating the northern realms. He was no closer to understanding why they were hostile to people from his area. Using his now considerable fortune, he began to slowly gather mercenaries and conquering the neighboring villages. And always routing out the supporters of the organisation he knew where responsible for his mothers death.

Years passed and still Artemis was first among equals, in what was now named the Rjurik Kingdom. And in the center of this Kingdom was the now not so small village, who housed some of Aethars finest warriors. Unfortunately the disaster which struck Aethar wasn't something that could be defeated with force of arms. One second all was fine, the next people lay dead or dying and many were just missing. The disaster which had struck was so enormous, that it defied description. Even the gods wept, for it looked like nothing could possibly rise out the ashes of this mighty cataclysm. And without mortal followers, even the gods would die. Being so remote from the rest of Aethar, the village of Rjurik was not so hard hit as other parts of the world. Some of the first people to rise out of the cataclysm were from the small village of Rjurik. The gods worked with what they had and started rebuilding their shattered world. Some sages hold to the belief that without the Rjurik survivors, the whole of Aethar would have been doomed.

The gods did well, life became easy and people prospered. Few did as well as those from Rjurik. It seemed the promised golden age of the gods was finally at a hand. The most dangerous of Aethars many inhabitants were fleeing the forces of good. But someone assassinated several of the gods champions. Their treasure resurfacing amongst the people of aethar several months later. Of course this could never last. Not being satisfied with their share of the spoils, some heroes and villains started their own dynasties and families so to not have to share the loot with other people. After a while the most powerful groups had subverted entire religions and commanded their own armies of clerics. They also used thieves and vampires to track down their victims, and then mages gated in the armies of the brotherhoods. It was becoming rare to see people from different families cooperating, and it was getting worse all the time. The Rjurik people grew strong and confidant, few were those who could threaten their military might. It seemed even their eternal enemy, the Demon Brotherhood, had been conquered. Artemis was dead but his legacy lived on. All such ages must come to an end, and this one was no exception.

It is said the purging started when some who had reached near immortal status believed themselves gods and tried to set themselves up as such. Druiad, the father of the gods, was becoming old and tired and passed on his powers equally to his chosen heirs, Fisben and Validus. Seeing no other choice, they decreed that only the firstborn from any family should live, and sent forth their angels of death.

The Rjurik people were once again decimated. What had once been a mighty nation, answerable to none but the gods, was but a shattered husk of what it had been. And then their enemy struck. First it seemed it was just accidents, and then people started disappearing. Finally, when the leaders understood that the organization, the Demon Brotherhood, was behind their current troubles, it was too late. For unknown to them, a large army of Demons and their mercenary allies had slowly gathered on the frozen glacier north of their homeland. In one quick swoop their capitol and surrounding cities were put to the torch. And that's when the demonlord leader, King Geluvir was first seen.

Being so few, most of the survivors fled their towns in the mountains and travelled southwards, thus repeating the voyage of the woman who was mother to the first Rjurik King. Centuries passed and their descendants married into other people. Gradually they forgot the ancient war that had brought them to this. City-states took over for kingdoms and the Rjurik people drifted amongst them, staying here, there, and then drifting on. So the history of a mighty people could have ended, conquered by time.

But the story does not end here. Galahad, a knight in the kingdom of Ka'tharel, was patrolling in the city of Stonehenge Manor when he first spotted the longship, which was unloading scores of undead warriors. At the top was an unknown banner, something that looked like a large man with wings from a distance. Being a knight and a duke in the kingdom of Ka'tharel, he gathered his scattered troops and attacked. Fighting valiantly and bravely it was just not enough when he met their leader, a great demonlord. His sword shattered and his body broken, he was praying for his soul to go to Valhalla, the realm prepared by the gods for Warriors who fall in glorious combat. Closing his eyes for what was to be the killing stroke, he missed what happened next. Suddenly the fighting was over and the demonlord lay dead at his feet. A greyclad stranger standing over it, pulling out a wicked looking knife from it's horned head. Knowing this stranger had just saved his life and that of his troops, Galahad swore fealty to him. Asking the stranger for his name he was told he could call him Master Ragnar.

Ragnar then subverted several other key nobles in Tya's realm of Ka'tharel and just bided his time. It is rumored that the forgotten banner of the Rjurik kingdom has once again been raised, and that they are massing their mercenary troops somewhere in southern Aethar. Other rumors tell that their "leader" Master Ragnar, is no more than a puppet who answers to someone else. They also state that he is the last scion of the line of Artemis the founder. And that now Rjurik is preparing for war to retake their ancestral homeland from the evil, selfstyled king, the Demonlord Geluvir.