Natalya Dyatlov; Baba Yaga [Russia]

50 years after the fall, in the Russian Taiga.

Slow moves the caravan, trudging along the snow swept remains of an old world trail, flanking either side of the wagon train are dense blockades of untamed wilderness, in the far distance a howl is heard, though it is not loud or close enough to rouse any true sense of dread, merely a reminder that no matter how isolated, the abyss is never far.

The caravan is composed of 3 wagons, all of which pulled by Upyrs, ghoulish creatures that approximate the human form, that can be turned into reliable pack animals if one can quench their thirst for blood.

Without the need for sleep, water or warmth, a group of Upyrs can pull a loaded wagon for days on end so long as their fed about half a quart of blood each dawn.

The first of the carts carry’s food and water, everything from scavenged canned goods and bottled water to edible herbs and boiled snow.

With so little of the land fit for cultivation, a supply of food could fetch a fine price at any settlement.

The next is host to an arsenal of guns and ammo, enough to supply a small militia, laser rifles and carbines, shotguns and plasma cannons, not to mention requisite ammunition.

Guns and ammo have always been in high demand in this part of the world, both in the apocalypse and the many civil wars that had come before it.

Finally, in the back is an impressive collection of medicine and equipment, pain pills, heart beat sensors, Medi-Aid Gel and surgical equipment, the only thing missing is a functioning Med-Bot.

With these items, a community could not only save lives but improve them, lengthening the longevity of all of its inhabitants.

Guarding this veritable bounty is 20 armed men and women, all baring the reputation of reliable guns for hire, looking to get paid and boost their reputation in the process.

Some had worked with the owner of this caravan before, others had come highly recommended from former trade associates or retired caravan guards of the past.

All of this, the guards, the wagons and the hauls they each carry are currently under the control of one woman Natalya Dyatlov known in most parts as Baba Yaga. And suffice it to say, none of it had come cheap.

She’s a merchant, one of the best, though she’s never laid down roots, she’s traveled from Moscow to Yakutsk, from Saskylakh to Astana, cutting deals and forging alliances with just about every serious trader in this stretch of the wasteland.

Much rides on this caravan, she had heard through the grapevine that Novosibirsk had run short of supplies, unable to feed, arm or treat its people, a call had been put out, asking for traders to come, do business and so Baba Yaga had answered the call.

Natalya is old, especially by wasteland standards at 63, with pale skin and long black hair coiled up into a bun, her body almost always concealed by traveling clothes is fit, honed by so many years out on the taiga.

At present she trods along ahead of the caravan, flanked by two of her most trusted guards, watching the tree line for the first signs of ambush when suddenly one of the guards rushes ahead.

“Boss, the Upyrs are getting restless, should we break into the emergency supply?” He says, his voice laced with worry and for good reason.

“No, Novosibirsk is not far ahead, Sasha will be able to top them up once we arrive, just keep your distance and try not to antagonize them” she replies bidding the guard to return to his position within the formation with a wave of her hand.

Another bitter gale rushes through the caravan, a vicious wind that cuts through clothes and flesh, chilling the bones of all present but nothing can be done but to press on, the caravan trudging along like a sluggish line of ants.

The road gives much time for thought, with a casual glance she turns her head, eyes darting amongst the faces of her entourage, not one of them could be a day over 30, coaxing a bitter chuckle from the old woman, a mean joke that only she could understand.

Suddenly, another beastly roar cuts above the howling winds of the taiga, something inhuman anathema to life itself, the roar sounded as though it came from three creatures simultaneously, the guards raise their weapons, watching the skies for such a noise could come from but one creature.

“It’s the Zmei!” Cries one of the guards as the shape swoops over the thin avenue of road, its body a great mass of stone like scales and large leathery wings, from its body sprouts not one but three heads, smoke billowing from each of their maws as they give another earth shaking roar.

Guns fire up into the sky, lasers and balls of plasma painting the sky in a violent mosaic as bullets shoot across the open air, what doesn’t miss the mark, barely seems to faze the Zmei as it passes forward and back over the grey vault that is the sky.

The Zmei, a plague that haunts these lands, a creature of cruelty and the purest of evil, the only mercy to be had being that this is the only one of its kind, a cold comfort.

The wagon train speeds up, as though meaning to outrun the beast but it will prove no good, the foul monstrosity will never give up the chase until it’s gained something of value. Such is its way.

The beast comes around again, swooping down to seize a man between its talons, the dagger like nails digging into flesh and spilling blood over the road, driving the Upyrs into a frenzy as they rush to the position to begin lapping at the small pool of blood.

One of the guards, a young man by the name of Dimir rushes over holding his rifle in a white knuckled grip.

“There is a cave not far from here, we must go to ground until the beast is gone!” He shouts as another man towards the back of the wagon train is taken up and out of view.

The situation is devolving rapidly, Natalya may be able to get one of the wagons out of harms way and maybe a few guards too, but the effort of escorting each one off road abd to this supposed cave would be to long to risk, and so she must choose but one.

She shouts as loud as she can, just barely audible over the howling wind and the roaring beast above, thankfully just enough guards have managed to keep a cool head to accomplish this escape plan.