Der Ruthenische Teufel

## **Der Ruthenische Teufel** *by Bloodyspaghetti*

*A scouting contingent rode through the western edges of Vladimir The Great's vast empire. Scouting the border of their grand prince for potential pockets of heathen resistance to his Christian reforms. The common folk was not exactly accepting towards the new faith brought about by the Grand Prince in part thanks to his previous actions regarding that faith. During his earlier years, Vladimir like his father Svyatoslav was a stubborn and prideful heathen. He even sacrificed a Christian man and his son to the old gods. The grand prince of Kiev might've seen the light of Christ but the common folk, they weren't so sure of the truth of this new religion.

The Grand Prince was forced to use force to promote his new faith and thus, scouts were sent every day to the furthest ends of his domain to locate any sort of heathen folk to convert or execute as enemies of the prince himself.

The scouts on the western border rode throughout the night, not finding a single soul that had resisted the new faith. They had ridden far and wide until they reached the forests of Red Ruthenia. While riding through these forests, just before dawn one of the scouts; Gleb Vseslavich had noticed a shadowy figure riding beside them.

"I think I saw a rider, that way," he called to his fellow scouts before turning to the north.

The scouts had followed the figure for a few minutes before they managed to see him in detail. It was a tall and lanky man covered head to toe in dark garbs. His horse was black as the night itself, and he appeared to be sickly thin yet powerful at the same time.

"Hey, rider! Halt!" one scout called out.

The mysterious rider slowed his horse down, matching his pace to that of the scouts behind him. Once they've reached him, a scout named Volk Yegorich called out to the mysterious rider; "Hey, rider, we're scouts of the Kievan Prince."

The dark rider stopped his horse on the spot, not looking at scouts he inquired, "What does the Kievan Prince seek with me, the lord of these lands?"

The scouts had stopped their horses and began whispering to one another.

"The lord of these lands and who might you be, Boyar?" Gleb asked the mysterious rider.

"I am the Dark Prince!" the mysterious rider claimed as he raised his head to face the scouts who circled around his horse.

"I've never heard of you, Dark Prince... are you some local priest? If so, we ask you, neglect your infidelity, forget the demons you have worshipped and accept the light of Jesus Christ!"

The dark prince removed his hood, revealing the face of an elderly man covered in ritualistic tattoos, sporting hair as dark as coal on top of his head and on his face. He smiled a toothy white grin before answering, "I cannot do that, for the cross holds on power over here, my friends!"

"Then by the decree of our Lord, the Prince of Kiev, the absolute authority of Rus' and its people. We must put you to the sword, Dark Prince!" declared Stanislav Bogdanov as he unsheathed his ax. The other scouts followed suit and prepared to charge at the heathen rider.

"Hahahahaha" the Dark Prince laughed before pounding on the side of his horse that emitted an unholy screech while its eyes burned like the flames of hell. The black horse tore through the formation of the scouts, and they were forced to chase him.

"I'd like to see you try to kill me, warriors of Kiev!" the heathen roared into the night's sky before he burst out laughing like a madman while riding through the lightless forest.

The scouts chased him throughout the long and twining paths of the forest all around them. They lost sight of him occasionally but whenever he'd disappear from their line of sight he would as if on purpose let out a crackling laugh so loud that they scout would immediately find him all over again.

Once, they were out of the forest and in a plain field, the Dark Prince seemed to have slowed down, displaying signs of fatigue. He almost seemed to resign to his fate when the scouts drew near him. He wasn't making any lasting efforts to escape or fight for his life.

When the distance was short enough, Voron, raised his sword high above his head and struck it deep within the heathen's back. The force of the blow sent the dark rider flying off his horse as blood splashed all over the face of the Kievan scout. The body of the dark rider crashed upon the damp soil silently as his horse fell sideways, screeching in pain.

"Hubris gets you nowhere, old man," Voron called out as he got off his horse and made his way to the corpse of the stricken rider. He grabbed the handle of his sword and jerked it out violently out of the rider's body, further splashing the latter's blood all over his clothes. Voron then turned back to his horse, as the other scouts stopped and looked at the carnage before them.

"Better make sure he's dead, Voron," called out Gleb.

Voron turned back to the fallen rider and raised his sword high above his head again, "Rot in hell, Pagan scum!" He called out as he dropped his sword sharply downward.

His arm froze halfway to the fallen rider's neck.

"Hey! Voron, kill him!"

"I… I can't…"

"What? Stop fooling around and take his head off…"

"I can't… can't… can't… move…"

Voron's eyes widened in fear as he realized he was being frozen in place by an unseen force.

"Help me!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

The other scouts got off their horses and began looking around. They could not comprehend what was happening. To them it seemed like the work of the devil was taking place. One of them, Mstislav Dobrich grabbed hold of Voron and tried to release him from the unseen force, but once he did, he was cut down by the enchanted scout.

"I… I… I didn't mean to… I… Help… me… I can't…" Voron cried out as his hands moved seemingly on their own.

"It's him! It must be him!" the scouts began screaming in a mass panic pointing their weapons at the fallen corpse of the dark rider.

"Release him, Diavol!" demanded Gleb as he charged towards the corpse swinging his ax towards the neck of the unmoving body.

As he was about to strike, Voron's body moved again cutting him across the chest spraying his blood all over.

The other scouts rushed towards Voron screaming and shouting in panic, trying to hold him down with no success as his body kept on cutting them down one by one.

Eventually, Volk managed to cut down Voron, begging him for forgiveness as his ax cut straight through the body of the possessed scout. Voron's body slumped to the ground, no longer moving on its own accord. Volk kneeled down and grabbed his friend, as the latter choked on his own blood.

After a few painful seconds, he was gone, his eyes lost their light and stared at Volk, lifeless and unfocused. With anger boiling in his veins, Volk closed his fallen friend's eyes one last time before commanding the remaining scouts to set the field ablaze immediately.

Torches were lit, and a few moments the night's skies were illuminated by the burning grass as the sun began to rise in the horizon, Volk threw the final torch on top of the dark rider's corpse barking at it, "may you burn in the deepest pits of Hades for these Christian lives you've taken".

"May God have mercy on your souls", Volk proclaimed as he sat atop his horse and commanded the other scouts to return to their post.

The remaining scouts made their way back to Vladimir Volynski through the same forests of Red Ruthenia. They were silent throughout their journey. They were silent until something grabbed one of their horses and sent its owner; Mal Halytski crashing down on the ground with a sickening thud. The other scouts hadn't had enough time to react before a shadowy tentacle grabbed the fallen scout and pulled him into the darkness of the forest. His screams echoed menacingly through the various pathways of the forest.

The other scouts wanted to go after Mal but Volk had stopped them, claimed that dark forces were at work. His tone was fearful, and his eyes were scanning all over the forest. It was obvious to all that he was afraid.

The scouts decided they should ride faster through the forest and thus they've begun making their way through the forest at top speeds. After a short while, the scouts had reached the edge of the forest and were beginning to feel at ease. That is until a shadowy figure appeared before them. A naked tattoo tall and lanky man with black hair and beard covered in a cloak of dancing shadows seated on top of a sickly black flaming horse.

The scouts froze at the sight of the being in front of them, "Dear Lord…" Volk muttered to himself as he stared at the green flames coming out of the flesh of the horse. The scouts stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Fear gripped their hearts and their minds were clouded with the aspect of facing the Diavol himself.

The being let out a burst of familiar crackling laughter that sent shivers down the spines of the remaining scouts. Volk knew they'd have to fight for their lives, knowing full well that the Diavol would not let them pass just like that. He had known that the Deceiver finds pleasure in torturing the souls of men; he knew all too well that the first of the fallen was a being that seeks only to corrupt the creation of God.

With a shaking voice and resolve, Volk called out, "We fight to the death, we will destroy this evil in the name of God and in the name of the Price of Kiev!" as he raised his sword high in the air before charging forward.

The shadowy being charged straight at the scouts, he let their weapons pierce through his body laughing maddeningly at their attempts to end his existence. As he passed through their line; numerous swords and axes stuck out of his body and he could only laugh.

The scouts stared in disbelief as the being before them would not perish, let alone fall from his monstrous steed.

"Forwa…" Volk choked on his command as shadowy tendrils pierced all over his body.

He let out a deafening screaming of agony as the tendrils tore his body into a myriad of small pieces.

"Just like the Drevlians did away with Prince Igor…" the being chuckled to himself as the shadowy tendrils retracted to his cloak.

The remaining scouts opted to ride ahead, in a futile attempt to escape the dark being.

"Too late for that, warriors of Kiev…" the being called out as his horse turned around and spewed out corrosive smoke from its maw. Anything that came in contact with the smoke melted into a liquified puddle.

The remaining three scouts fell from their horses as the animals were being liquified alive. The pained squeals of the animals could drive any man to the brink of sanity. Such terrible were the sounds of the horses whose flesh was stripped away from their bones.

One scout broke his hip once his horse fell down on top of him.

He lost half of his body to the corrosive smoke. His screams were not human, his screams were those of a terrible thing residing at the deepest layers of Hades. Nothing but bones and a sickly green-yellow liquid remained of the scout.

Another one tried to run on foot, but the dark being caught up to him, punching a hole straight through his chest and tearing his heart out before disintegrating it into soot before his very own eyes. The scout fell, limp on the ground, soiling the land beneath him with an ever-expanding pool of blood.

Seeing what had just happened the one remaining scout, a young man named Lev Lamonosov fell down and couldn't find his way back up to his feet. He was disorientated by fear as the dark being kept on creeping up on him as if it had been a predator stalking its prey. Like a bear about to pounce on a deer, the dark being stood over the young scout, looming over him like a massive black feathered bird.

"Please… Please…" The young scout begged, "Please let me go… I’ll make sure…"

"No…" The being interrupted him.

"Please, I beg of you… In the name Perun… Please…"

"Don't you dare invoke the thunderer to me, child!" the being barked.

"Do not dishonor the name of my fellow gods with your Christian tongue!"

Lev froze, he had realized the magnitude of his company's misdoing.

His eyes had widened so much that a stream of tears began falling from them as he begged and pleaded with the harbinger of death to spare his life.

The being was not moved, for you cannot change the mind of a god, let alone the mind of the Deathless one.

Lev knew he would not make it out alive and so with one last prayer to his new god, one last prayer to find a place in Heaven he resigned to his fate.

The Deathless one, however, had a far more sinister plan in mind for the young scout; he called upon a rain of divine spears to pierce through every part of the young scout's body without actually killing him.

As he laid there, a broken pile of flesh and bone, pierced by divinely enchanted spears that would not let him die. Lev wanted to scream for help, but he could not, for even his throat was destroyed by one of those spears. And the pain, a searing throbbing pain, one that flooded every fiber of Lev's being. The pain that felt as if he had been continuously struck by the bolts of Perun himself. The pain that felt like it was getting worse and worse with each passing moment.*

*The pain was the only thing that Lev could experience, almost…

Lev could not get the final words the Deathless One told him out of his mind; "You shall live forever now, child, buried inside your soul! Buried by the pain you wrought upon yourself until someone finds a way into this realm and finally properly slays you!"

 He could not get these words out of his mind because he was buried alive, underground, where no one could ever hear his agonized gurgling.*