Koschei (Servant Caster, Ready for Evaluation)

[/color][/b][/color]Koschei the Deathless
OTHER ALIAS: //[/color] Tzar Koschei, Koschei the Immortal, Koschei the Undying, Lich King, Koscheiushka, Skeletron, Koschei the Magnificent.
CURRENT AGE: //[/color] Too old to properly tell; appears to be in mid-twenties
YEAR OF BIRTH: //[/color] Unknown
GENDER: //[/color] Male
ALIGNMENT: //[/color] Lawful Evil
OCCUPATION: //[/color] Tyrant, Conqueror, Usurper, Kidnapper, Swordsman, Witch-King of Angmar, Mage-Tzar, Witcher.
[/size][/ul]

[/color][/b][/color]
[Blizzard Gate!]
[Crazy? Who? Me?]
[Chained]
[Something on my face?]
[Prepare to die]
[The swipe of the sword]
[Tar Eruption]
[The Tar Familiar]
[Tar Familiar split itself]
[The Tar Familiar – 2]
[True Form of the Deathless Monster]
[The Truth and the Illusion]
[Armor]
[With armor and without]
[The Tridesiatoe Tzarstvo]
[The Armor 2]

HEIGHT: //[/color] 6'0
WEIGHT: //[/color] 50kg (with armor)
EYE COLOR: //[/color] Emerald
HAIR COLOR: //[/color] White
PIERCINGS: //[/color] None
TATTOOS: //[/color] None
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: //[/color] The armor
[/size][/ul]

[/color][/b][/color]

• Greedy
  
  • Koschei’s greed knew no bounds, eventually leading to his own destruction; he had desired much, including women, power, immortality, wealth, and land. He would prove able to obtain them all, but hold within his grasp only some.
  
  
• Vindictive
  
  • Vindictive doesn’t begin to describe it. This is the man who killed, dismembered, tarred, and drowned the man who saved him from imprisonment, because he had kidnapped his wife. Koschei has a very long memory and his is quite capable of carrying out vengeance for his grudges. The only exception to this rule seems to be if the one who does him ‘injustice’ is a pretty woman, but even that isn’t always true.
  
  
• Axe-Crazy
  
  • Didn’t get a good idea from the previous point? Well, Koschei’s favorite method of combat, despite knowing how to use a sword properly, is to coil himself around his opponent, clawing at them in a mad frenzy. The man never was an exemplary specimen of psychological stability, but after being killed by THAT MAN, this has deteriorated even further into open sadism.
  
  
• Cruel
  
  • The Deathless had never been a particularly kind man, and after his transformation, he had become even worse: previously, it was simply just ‘my way or the highway’, to the extent of putting the woman he loved to sleep for eternity because she didn’t feel the same way about him. Even before, he cared little for the lives of men, be they his own or the enemies, caring only about the power and gains this sacrifice would bring him. Now, as mentioned above, he has taken to outright sadism, as he is greatly disillusioned with the world.
  
  
• Vain
  
  • Koschei is quite conceited and proud: this is to the point of damaging his situation, such as buying into Marya Morvena’s praises of him to explain to her where he acquired his magic steed, and the later attempt of Vasilisa the Wise to trick him into disclosing the way to kill him. The first achieved this by a compliment, while the latter said he was heartless, so she couldn’t love him, but if he had a heart, she would. So, naturally, he told her, and she laughed in his face. Not wise. Not wise at all.
  
  
• Lecherous
  
  • This is the reason for half of his conquests. All for the sake of a woman. Naturally, despite all his lust and advances, he proved unable to capture the heart of any of the women he kidnapped, due to them already loving someone else.
  
  
• Cunning
  
  • Quite deceptive and tricky, Koschei is able to come up with excellent battle plans and plots outdo and outplay his opponent. Illusions, curses, charms, manipulating others, tempting them with power or wealth, he is truly worthy of his spot as the greatest of Slavic Myth’s villains, arguably only comparable to Baba Yaga who doesn’t always feel like antagonizing people.
  
  
• Ambitious
  
  • Boundless ambition had always been one of Koschei’s biggest character traits. Wealth, land, women, power, all should be his, is the viewpoint the man holds.
  
  
• Man of his word (except he finds loopholes in them)
  
  • He had promised Ivan three extra lives for three buckets of water. He was given three buckets, and Ivan was granted three lives. After kidnapping Marya Morevna, he honestly warned Ivan he would kill him if he came after him. Ivan came after him, and sure enough, he had been killed. This also extended to requests by women, which he would fulfill without fail, assuming he liked them. But now… Who knows?
  
  
• Stubborn
  
  • Once he would get an idea, it is incredibly difficult to persuade Koschei to not go with the course of action he feels best. And if you resist once he has already begun with his plan, well… The result will not be pretty in any way, shape or form. He is highly obsessive and will do anything to fulfill his goal.
  
  

LIKES: //[/color]

• Beautiful women
  
• Himself
  
• Baba Yaga (obvious exception from point numero uno)
  
• Mirrors
  
• His face
  
• Marya Morevna
  
• Vasilisa
  
• Kidnapping brides
  
• Power
  
• Wealth
  
• Being obeyed
  
• Being worshipped
  
• Being complimented
  
• Being idolized
  
• Being feared
  
• Being praised
  
• Being adored
  
• Hunting
  
• Writing bad poetry
  
• Power
  
• Talking in riddles
  

DISLIKES: //[/color]

• 
  
• Prince Ivan
  
• Prince Ivan
  
• PRINCE. IVAN.

[/u][/i]
[/li][li]Prince Ivan's horse
[/li][li]Being outwitted
[/li][li]Being made a fool
[/li][li]Being killed
[/li][li]Being decapitated (gets old after a while)
[/li][li]Being kicked in the head
[/li][li]Being clubbed
[/li][li]Being burned on a pyre and having his ashes tossed to the four winds (do you know how hard it is to keep good skin while regenerating from that and how boring it is?! Bah!)
[/li][li]Marya Morevna
[/li][li]Being called ugly (real complex about that)
[/li][li]Being thwarted
[/li][li]Dying
[/li][/ul]
STRENGTHS: //[/color]

• Witchcraft
  
• Swordsmanship
  
• Shapeshifting
  
• Plotting
  
• Physical strength
  

WEAKNESSES: //[/color]

• The Needle
  
• Vanity
  
• Arrogance
  
• Obsessive nature
  
• Women
  

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MY LEGEND: //[/color]
[Koschey]
[Who is Koschei the Deathless]
[Koshchey Bessmertny]
[Koschei]
[Bas Chelik]
[Death of the Deathless]
[Koschei the Deathless]
[What is a witcher]

MY HISTORY: //[/color]
My story? You lifespan will be insufficient, mortal. But very well, let me try it out anyway. My birth… Is slightly clouded to me. I recall bits and pieces of it, but some which I should not remember is clear as day. I recall, for example, the terror of the wet-nurses who delivered me; my form was not quite human. Like all witchers, I had been born scaled in places, with unnaturally large, catlike irises, and when these green orbs stared unblinkingly at one of the women, I recall that she shrieked, fell back and crawled out of the room. …Naturally the incident was kept quiet. The son of the Tzar, a witcher? That was inconceivable, shameful, and terrifying. It must have been repressed, it must have been made secret to all, otherwise the Tzar’s right to rule would be threatened.

I was growing up a meek, fragile boy, that been constantly coerced into everything, and being apathetic to everything that had occurred around me. Years passed in a blur, as did various attempts on my life, up until my eighteenth birthday, when someone (I suspect my father’s advisor) had suggested that I be given formal training in witchcraft in order to better suppress it. I was sent to Baba Yaga, the greatest witch that existed in the land. Due to our Kingdom being on the fringes of civilization, we did not have particularly far to go; but maybe that was due to her own personality. After all, when she wanted someone to find her, they always did. I remember turning into a wolf as soon as we left city limits and devouring the guards sent with me. The rest of the trek was far more pleasurable without them, their stench of fear, their loud breathing, and the disgusted glares. When I arrived, I had been greeted with the creaking of her house as it turned, slowly, one leg at a time, on the spot, with the door opening and the ugliest woman I’ve ever laid eyes upon appearing in the doorframe.

Hunchbacked, with a pockmarked face, greasy grey hair, uncut nails, broken, yellow teeth… yet I could not find within my heart any disgust. Was it due to simple childish reverse psychology? They, who disliked me, had a much deeper hatred for her, and I found a small measure of comfort in this, removing any disgust. Besides, I couldn’t exactly call myself picture-perfect either; as I grew, the scales had become more pronounced, and I had been forced to wear gloves and high-collared shirts to conceal them. My arms had been slightly too long for a normal human, as well, and my eyes, as I explained, had never blinked. Putting all these together, and most common folk did not find me particularly presentable, their superstitions adding to it. Two-Souls, they called me. Demon child. Shifting into another form was quite liberating, but as they already knew my original, it had been pointless.

She asked me nothing, merely beckoned.

Leaping fourth, I transformed back to a human, and entered the Witch’s lair. I’ve learned much in the next few years that followed, and did not regret my choice of not returning. Search parties have been sent quite often during the first yeah, but as time went on, they had been less and less frequent, until finally stopping altogether. It was a pity. I rather liked hunting them down. It was an excellent test of my shapeshifting skills, fooling them and leading them deeper and deeper into the woods, where they would drown in swamps, fall prey to the wood’s creatures, or my own claws. But you know what? Despite the many, many years I’ve spent within those woods, I had never been accepted by them, merely allowed to exist there, simply because I was a guest. They had always remained wary of me, the unknown, foreign element, even when I had transformed. I knew that I could not simply stay here forever, as this was not my place. Surprised, I found myself not content with what I had. For the first time in my life, I realized that my apathy had been gone.

When did it happen? How did it happen? I then recalled the hunts for the search parties, and the sheer bloodlust and thrill I felt as I ripped them apart. Perhaps… it was then. It was that very day, when I had come to this conclusion, that I was approached by Baba Yaga, and told, with her usual yellow-toothed grin, that starting tomorrow, for three days, I would be guarding her horses as they went out for grazing. If I would lose even one, then she would kill me. I believed her.

During those three days, I had learned as much as in three years. I had been used to not sleeping, but the infernal beasts had been insanely quick and smart, not to mention being high in number. On the first day, they had run away in random directions and I had to chase them down, turn into various forms, employ magic, charm them, or create traps. It took much out of me, and the whole day, but I had eventually gathered them all. The next day, I could barely lift a finger, but the grinning hag sent me out to guard the horses once more. This time, I decided I would use their own speed against them, managing to tame one, and using it to chase down the rest, though it took me half the day to make it obey me, and another to round the rest up. On the final day, I had finally had enough, and launched my plan. It was simple, really. I called upon a new spell which I’d been developing, one that would control the weather, causing a simulated early winter, and summoning a blizzard. Unfortunately, I had been a little too over-zealous, and most of the horses had been frozen solid, save the one I had tamed, which I had been riding at the time, outside the blizzard. The rest of the day had been moving the frozen horses back to the stables and thawing them – a rather thankless job.

Yaga had not been pleased, but I had completed her task, receiving as reward the very horse I had tamed: an excellent animal, which I did not give a name, considering such a practice pointless. As soon as she had handed over the reins of the horse to me, I was informed my apprenticeship had now been over, and that everything else I would have to understand on my own. I had been to the edge of the woods when my horse had first shown its true qualities: It spoke in a human voice, warning me of what had happened in the kingdom while I had been gone. It had warned me that after my disappearance, my father had more children, attempting to get another heir. As if cursed, my mother bore, one after another, 12 children – all girls, and all born with circumstances similar to mine. Innate witches, but without my unnerving appearance. After that, my father had gone completely mad, executing mother for ‘adultery’, because these could not be his own children.

After that, business as usual. The advisor that sent me away came to power, slowly replacing father, and substituting himself. The coup came when father had already been on his deathbed – still was, according to my horse. My sisters, by now grown women, had been confined in the palace, kept alive due to being of royal blood – the usurper could not get rid of them yet but soon, he would. I reasoned he would require an example to show the end of an era. I provided him with one by sticking his head on the pike of the highest spire of the palace. Ah, but I run ahead of myself. I assumed a disguise of a common-looking young man, riding into the city to see how it had been run. I was not pleased. Hunger, rebelliousness, filth everywhere… the kingdom was decaying, just like its ruler. It needed something new.

My first task was to free my sisters, which I did by putting the guards to sleep with a simple sleep spell, then entered the tower where they had been kept to introduce myself. They had seen through my disguise, and recognized me as their brother – the blood speaks, after all, and we were no mere mortals. I did not bother slaying anyone on my way to the traitor, merely creating a large field of sleep that coated wherever myself and my sisters walked. After all, everything here had belonged to me, and was my inheritance and rightful possession, that I would claim after my father’s death. To me, the man was already dead, given the madness that claimed him, and was merely a husk of his old self. Tzar Koschei… yes, I suppose it was time for that.

Well… Not much to tell about how the traitor was dealt with, or the shrieks extracted from him by my sisters. I… Felt my apathy returning, when the worm crawled to my boot, begging for mercy. Shaking him off, I proceeded to my father’s chambers, leaving the echoes of the traitor’s torment behind me. Such pointless action by such a meaningless character. He had plotted this coup all his life, groveled before my father and those in charge, and what did it amount to? Such futile foolishness… I’ve found my father in a state of drooling delirium, talking into space - his madness had taken him back to the time shortly before my birth, when he had been at his happiest, and the kingdom at its best. It interesting to bear witness to, sight of fallen majesty, and what age and mistakes do to men.

The fact that the twitching, drooling husk before me had been my flesh and blood, my biological father, did not register at all. THIS was what created me? This thing…? Laughable. Disgusted? No, I was not disgusted, and though I say ‘laughable’ it was not quite amusing enough to laugh over it, either. No, it was more like studying a child spear a twitching bug in place with a pin. You have other things on your mind, look at it, realize that it is wrong, yet cannot be bothered to do anything. After all, it is merely an insect. Looking around, I saw that the traitor had not fully completed him plan when we interrupted him – the crown had still been wrapped around the head of that which I will no longer refer to as ‘father’.

His richly decorated mantle had hung on the chair, a relic passed down through generations of our family – black velvet coat with a white fur collar. My hand reached for the crown, but stopped midway, seeing the shaking claws with parchment-like skin that clutched it to its now useless head. Picking up the mantle and wrapping it about my shoulders, I turned to leave, but was stopped as the husk began to mutter something with unusual clarity. I could hear my name, uttered with an emotion I never heard accompanying it, but such a thing only gave me a second’s pause, and delivered, at last, a smile to my face. Snapping my fingers, I had set the room on fire – after all, the shell inside was neither a king, nor a human no longer. It could not even be called ‘alive’. Still, it was only fitting to bury it with its useless crown. Even if there had been screams as I closed the door, I did not hear them. After all, the voice of fire is fairly loud, and old things burn best.

One reign had ended, and another was about to begin. And this time, it would not end.

But first things first – I need a crown. I had no use for the useless decorations such objects are usually adorned with, therefore I’d simply melted down the sword my father had gifted me when I had left the kingdom, and shaped it into a simple circlet with thirteen spikes protruding from it upwards. What happened after that? There isn’t much to tell. We exposed the treachery that had occurred, assured my subjects they had been lied to, and that I, their rightful Tzar, would protect them from harm, no matter the cost to myself… or them, of course. My sisters, of course, did not receive a place in court and had to leave, as it would be difficult to justify and explain to the common Neanderthal that they were on my side, and their scandal was too recent, while mine had been fairly old, not to mention my undisputable claim to the throne. Now that I had my people, I had to turn my attention to the most pressing business.

The previous Tzar had been a failure as an authority figure, succumbing to age and disease. I would not be the same. Immortality… a lofty goal to undertake, but one that had been necessary for a truly competent and worthy lord. I’ve repeated these words many times, for many years, yet even now, I cannot comprehend the reason. Why had I wished for Immortality? Was it truly for the sake of my people, or was it that black beast that feasts upon the hearts of the young and the old, man and woman alike? Fear… Was it you? But I stray from the point. The point is, the chance to prove myself, and gain the immortality had arrived much sooner than I’d anticipated – the ritual itself had taken up all of my free time, setting up the elements and imbuing the artifacts, constructing and deconstructing my thesis, and running simulations. The problem had been the amount of mana required to pull it all off, as well as the protection I would require as I’d be vulnerable at the time.

The chance came when we had been invaded.

I let them advance into our territory, letting them get drunk with their easy victories, before stalemating them before the capital. Calling in my sisters, who had turned into gigantic crows able to lift a cow in their claws, I activated my previously set-up magic. Unfortunatly, I seemed to have been slightly off-budget in my calculations, or my own foolish troops had been too energetic in killing my valuable sources of power – the enemy soldiers. Regardless, the field that was supposed to consume only the enemy army had expanded and destabilized due to the size not being built to accommodate this structure. With my usual genius, I had stabilized the system, expanding it to cover my own army as well. Their sacrifice would be well worth the birth of the immortal, perfect Tzar, and besides, were their lives not mine to begin with? Did they not swear to surrender them at my beck and call when they took the oath? Of course they did.

So what happened, you say? Ah… Pain beyond pain. Knowledge flowed through me, concepts alien before had become clear as day, spells I did not understand readily sprung to my fingertips… I felt like I was being ripped apart by a pair of invisible hands for what felt like an eternity, but, perhaps heralding what awaited me, even that eternity had an end. The battle was over, the enemy force dead… as had been most of my army. Naturally, weak-minded fools had refused to believe that I had done what was required, and only necessary. The fact that the enemy outnumbered them 10:1 had been a statistic wasted upon their feeble minds. Thus, I silenced the dissention, and those who had the gall to doubt their Tzar, and the burden of his crown. But such trivial matters were unimportant. They were fodder, expendable. Humans breed quickly. Soon, the kingdom would bloom once more, and I, the eternally young king, frozen in my state of youth, would forever rule this kingdom… This unfading, unwilting realm.

The years later had showed that no matter how you attempt to serve your people, and how much you sacrifice for them, insects remain insects. Failing to appreciate the one who fed, defended, and clothed them through many wars that followed that one, and leading victorious marches , bringing other Tzars to their knees… They rebelled, dissented, and eventually, slowly, had begun to leave the kingdom. That had been how the decline of the Tridesiatoe Tzarstvo began. Laughable, is it not? No external foe, no matter how strong, could destroy us. But this disease called ‘enlightenment’, spreading amongst the common folk, did. I’ve learned quite a bit about breakouts of plagues in my studies in the palace as a boy, and later, as a Tzar, when I could access all the archives. So I did what seemed like the best solution: Sent out those completely loyal to me, my Horned Knights, at night, to hammer the houses doors closed. The books suggested fire, but really… While the spectacle might be pleasing, the smell of charred flesh and old wood would quickly grow tiresome.

While waiting for my subjects to finally become docile, I had taken several forays into the surrounding territory, one of my vassals, a Tzar I had previously defeated, had sent for help, and as an honorable and merciful lord, I had to stay true to my oath, and protect my people, and their wealth, which added to my own. We rode for three days, and managed to arrive in time to strike the fore from the side, cutting them off from the truly pitiful force my vassal had gathered to defend. The battle? Hmph, that much should be obvious. There is no army or force, living nor dead, which can stand against the Horned Legion, lead by Tzar Koschei the Deathless. Riding at the head of the army, the exhilaration drowning out and utterly destroying and feeling of boredom or apathy, I crashed into the foe, cutting left and right. I remember leaping off my horse, onto the pikes raised to impale me, slashing at them in an intoxicated euphoria. Ahh… Such intoxication had been far stronger than any wine or vodka I’ve tasted. I had been cut to pieces, smashed, impaled, stomped, yet I rose each time, cutting down my foes, transforming at will, ripping them with my fangs, reaching own with my talons – I’ve long since lost my sword – blasting them with spells…

But all things end, as did that battle, the enemy routed, their best fallen inducted into the ranks of my army. I recall tossing the bloody head of the Tzar at my vassal’s feet and explaining his incompetence to him, recall his tears of joy, perhaps fear, as he collapsed to his knees, and offered me the hand of his daughter to further cement his servitude. It was when he called her into the palace that I had first felt what I had later found out to be ‘love’. Tall, fair, the woman had an excellent, curvy figure, full lips, large eyes, and long black hair. Marya Morvena was beautiful – and she was also a witch. She was pleasant in conversation, exceptionally smart, cunning, and not afraid of doing things that had to be done. Forceful, yet obedient. The woman had been perfect to be my wife. I had even decided to share my secret of immortality with her, as she seemed so keen on learning about it. We had met on numerous occasions while the wedding was being planned out.

Then… betrayal.

Though I’d been foolish to tell her much about the ritual, I still had not told her everything, and that had saved me. It had taken many soldiers to reduce me to a state in which I could be captured. Apparently, several of my vassals had been unsatisfied with my reign – incomprehensible, I know. Though, I suppose the smaller minds cannot comprehend true power, and are thus scared of it. Their betrayal is natural, and I, as a just Tzar, would forgive their transgressions, after a due punishment, of course. No, the unforgivable one had been her. That woman had wasted a perfectly good army. I saw how she’s described in the myths made for foolish children. Savior of the people? Benevolent sorceress? Hah! She merely calculatedly and coldly sent them to their deaths. She knew they could not stop me. She only required that I weaken so that she could kill me. As I stood, leaning on my sword, she had walked up to me, ignoring the hills of corpses, or her pure white dress being stained in blood – she merely stepped over the dying and the dead. She had smiled, pet my cheek, marring her hand in blood, and then carefully, thoughtfully, and calmly, sunk her dagger (a gift I presented her with)into my heart.

But it is really too bad, I told her. My heart is elsewhere.

Thus, I had been put in chains, and transported to her castle. For all my hatred for the woman, she was an excellent, and brutal, politician. She wasted no time staging her father’s death by ‘my hand’, and polluting my image in the hearts of the already confused and frightened subjects. But I shan’t blame them. Next, I had been imprisoned in the deepest cellarshe could locate, and bound by twelve magical chains, crafted, it seemed, from the remains of my sisters. Grief? Grief is not for Kings, mortal. I merely promised to avenge them someday, when it would be convenient to me. What was I talking about? Ah, yes, Marya. The woman seemed to have, at first, thought to control me like a beast, and use me to destroy her enemy’s forces – and she had many of them, for some stayed loyal to me.

To her disappointment and rage, such an effort failed. The level of her charm spell was truly amazing, the point she had spread it throughout her kingdom, making people worship her, but such a massive and undirected spell, for one as magnificent and enlightened as I? Pitiful. Like trying to cage the sun with your hands. Still, it was an excellent chance to escape, pretending to fall under it, but one I would not receive for a long time. For twenty years, that venomous woman siphoned my immortality from me, until she had taken half of it – but because her method was inherently flawed and based on what I told her, she only succeeded in taking my eternal youth for herself, leaving me with an eternal life, but which would cause me to be stuck in my true age – that of an old man. She on the other hand, received an extended life, though not immortality, and the ability to remain youthful until the day she died.

I hate her… And yet, loved her. Her power, and her force, her anger and her laugh. She was a monster in human form, but she was a monster that I, a human in a monster’s form, fell in love with. And every time she had come to my cell to take more of my life, I had told her that I would eventually make her serve me, making her laugh, and scorn me. Twenty years passed, and I had not been given water of food once. An army approached her borders, one that had been far too numerous to deal with for her – perhaps they did not hear the tale of the ‘goddess’ that rules these parts, and her feat of defeating a ‘terrible monster’. But whatever drove them, fearlessness or ignorance, they needed to be stopped and the legend of the invulnerable ‘goddess’ fed more sacrifices. That was when my chance came and went. I pretended to be under her spell then, and put down a large amount of forces that lead the opposition. Though to be honest, I believe the sight of me was enough to terrify and demoralize them, and encourage her forces with their Lady’s accomplishment of capturing such a monster and making it serve.

Combined with Morvena’s magic, we wiped the floor with them, leaving the field a massacre, and giving Morvena a new name, which she seemed to find distasteful: ‘The Plague-Witch’. However, it was much worse after that – I did say that I needed nourishment to return to my proper strength and escape, yes? Well, using the fact that she had thought me a slave to her spell, I had taken in some nourishment right there, on the field. True, the flesh of humans and their blood would not give much sustenance to me, who fasted for 20 years, and was not a vampire to take full advantage of their properties, but it was enough for a vast amount of her soldiers to meet a gruesome end. That had been the day her invulnerable legend began to crumble. Oh, she’d been furious… After I was recaptured, she had subjected me to much torture, but what is pain to me?

Shortly after, she had fallen to the same foe I did – Love. The fool of a man she fell for had been trusted with the keys to all of her secrets, save for her unnatural tendencies. As she left on an errand – I felt her presence fade, likely to go and prepare for the wedding with him, that fool Ivan had opened my cell. It had been simple to tempt him into giving me water. I am a man of my word – I gave him a life for each bucket of water he had let me drink. Naturally, I did not say that I would stay, so I had merely ripped the chains, shattered the tower, turned into a vulture, and escaped. I was not quite at full power, but I did not need to be, after all, I was merely going to take my promised fiancée back. I had found the horse Baba Yaga had granted me in the stables of Morvena’s castle, caught up to her using the horse’s truly marvelous pre-cognition, and took her back to my kingdom.

Or rather, what had been left of it. Overgrown, half-ruined, mostly deserted… My eternal, unwilting realm had become like this in just 20 years. Truly, the absence of a true Tzar is disastrous for a nation. Ivan, quite accurately dubbed ‘The Fool’ in some of your stories, had chosen to come after me like I was some sort of criminal, playing the hero to save the damsel. I had killed him, warning him that he had only 2 more lives, and that I would kill him again if he tried. He did this another time, and again I warned him, until on the third time, my patience had expired, and I cut him into cubes, bypassed the immortality I gave him by using pieces of my tar beast to seal Ivan’s severed limbs at the cut, to prevent the regeneration, sealed this now shapeless mass in a barrel, sealed the barrel, and drowned it in the furthest part of the ocean.

His assistants and familiars had save him, somehow resurrecting him in some shape that wasn’t quite his own – though I do not think he realized this, nor the change in his mindset and soul, and… Well, you know how that ended. He stole a horse better than mine from Baba Yaga, it managed to stun me, and then he destroyed my body, fleeing away with Morvena. Being already weakened, It had taken me much time to fully regenerate from that, and by the time I was ready to face them again, both Ivan and Morvena had peacefully died as a man and wife. That had been the first time I truly felt sorrow – neither could I possess the woman, nor kill her myself. Truly… Pitiful. What’s that? Kings do not grieve? Hush, mortal… Your life’s fire is small enough. Do not make it snuff it. What sort of King was I then, with my subjects dead, my kingdom in ruins?

But I persevered. I rebuilt, with feverish enthusiasm I would not put too far from madness, in hindsight. That next chapter in my life had been one that made me the object the stories old women frighten their children with. Drunk with grief, power, and my own inability to die, spurned to do something, to fulfill my oath to my people, whom had been now near none, I became a scourge upon the land, kidnapping women, and then simply forgetting about them in old, dusty rooms. They had been like paintings, or sculptures, to me – because none could compare to the beauty of the one I failed to kill. I then took to murdering men, and attempting to regain my youth with sacrificial rituals, but alas… I could not return which that which she took to her grave.

Many hundreds of years passed, until one day, I had seen a woman quite like the one I lost. No, that would be an understatement – it had been her. It had to be. Reincarnation…? That was not supposed to happen. However, everything was the same. Her eternal youth, her powers, the way people worshipped her, her spiteful and venomous personality… This time, her name was Vasilisa the Wise. I did not wait long, and this time, raising a vast amount of undead, raised the entire kingdom, conquering one after another to get to her, leaving ashen fields of her country. I had taken her back to my castle, where I attempted to reason with her. Unfortunately, I might have been a little rash, and she did not understand me at all. Her memory had still not returned, even if it could.

Of course, surely enough, Ivan had showed up not much later, overhearing our conversation: she had tricked me into telling her what I did not last time. I had told her I loved her, that I was immortal, and would continue loving her forever, but she called me heartless, and that she could not love one without a heart. So, I explained to her that my heart was simply not in my chest, but elsewhere. She replied that she would have very much loved to rip that heart apart. Appaled and enraged, I had cursed Vasilisa to sleep forever, within a crystal coffin, tossing away the key, as she would not listen to me. A fitting crown jewel to my collection. Ivan, as soon as I had been gone, retrieved the key, letting vasilisa out, but seemed to retain some semblance of a memory and did not try to kidnap her. Pain seems to be remembered better than words or feelings – keep that in mind, mortal.

Elated at the completion of my collection and furious at the refusal, unstable, I had taken my new army against the final stronghold left in Russia, laying siege to it. In that time, Vasilisa had told Ivan all about my weakness, and he had managed to retrieve it, despite all odds. I had proposed a duel to him, feeling my heart near him, instead of wasting our armies – after all, even if I died, my army would not, and they would not stop. He agreed, the fool. We had fought for most of the day, with him wounding me multiple times, but as I am Deathless, that had been meaningless. Then, just as I had struck a mortal block, he had resorted to a trick, tossing the Egg directly at my forehead, breaking it and the needle with the sheer power of the impact. And then… I died. I have no idea what had happened to Vasilisa, Ivan, or the armies. All I know, is that I am done being nice, and playing by the rules.

MY GOALS: //[/color]
To collect (I’ve learned my lesson with trying to marry them) every (beautiful) woman in the world, and kill every hero (especially Ivan)that tries to stop (kill) me, become the undisputed ruler of Russia, then continue the conquest, with fire and sword, creating a perfect state of utopia with mindless servants as a population.
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• Ice shaped into swords, masked with illusions to look like actual swords. Able to withstand blows of Noble Phantasms, but no special properties unless coated with the Essence of Execution. Can be thrown, or conjured being thrown, if so, then the area they land in freezes at an area about 1m around them. A note: They are quite breakable and are no actual Phantasms, and when I say 'withstand' I mean a couple hits, 2-3, no more. He is quite bad at wielding them, as he is now a Caster, but the point is, it doesnt matter because of his Noble Phantasm, and any broken swords can be re-conjured very quickly.
  
• His claws, which bear poison in them. Count as a Common Phantasm. Poison has no effect on Servants.

NOBLE PHANTASM: //[/color]

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Rank: E to A+++
Type: Support
Range: Self
Max Targets: Self


Death of the Deathless
Rank: B+
Type: Anti-Support (Yes, he has a NP that kills himself)
Range: Any
Max Targets: Self


Essence of Execution
Rank: B+
Type: Anti-Unit to Anti-Army
Range: 300m
Max Targets:1000
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CLASS ABILITIES: //[/color]

Item Construction: A+
The skill to manufacture magical items.

At this rank, the ability to create potions that grant limited immortality is achieved. Koschei’s other specialization in this is creating cursed magical items, or simply magical items of an evil nature. He also crafted his needle phylactery, and the tar which is used for the Essence of Execution, which he is able to manipulate freely. Note: Essence of Execution is his Tar familiar.

Territory Creation: A
The skill to build a special terrain that increases one's capacities as a magus.

Creation of a "Temple", which is superior to a "Workshop", becomes possible. Koschei’s Temple is the Isle of Buyan, upon which the Tridesiatoe Tzarstvo stands – his Castle. Due to the unique nature of the Temple, the space inside it is distorted and it is far larger inside than inside. This is how the Thirty-Two Giant Soldiers, with their Commander fit inside. Each Giant is sized approximately 250 cm, does not possess stats, and may only exist within the Territory.

SKILLS: //[/color]

Witchcraft: A++
Has been taught to Koschei by a True Witch, and Koschei's later infamy resulting in him being seen as a demi-god of Death. Furthermore, not the Dakini method discipline, but the Slavic Witchcraft practiced in Europe, reffered to as Vedmachestvo. Ascension to such a status though birth and achievement, resulting in being listed as a half-demon. Due to Slavic Witchcraft being differently based and restricted. Koschei is a natural Witcher (half-human, half-spirit) from birth, and Witchcraft came to him innately, though had been refined by Baba Yaga. Also had conquered most of Russia using it – though arguable.

Shapeshifting: (A+)A
The capability to change one’s shape and appearance physically rather than making the illusion of such an effect.
Koschei used to be able to transform his body into a storm, and fly around as wind, but due to the limitations of the Grail, he is unable to utilize his talent fully, now reduced to transforming into anything physical, such as humans, animals, trees, etc.

Mental Pollution: B
Due possessing a distorted mentality, it is highly possible to shut out any mental interference Thaumaturgy. However, at the same time it becomes impossible to come to an understanding with individuals that do not possess an equivalent rank of mental pollution.

Koschei possesses this due to his nature as a half-elemental; this is made worse by his personal outlook on life, state of mind due to immortality, and his later sadism. Only those who somewhat share his views may communicate with him effectively.

Clairvoyance B
Superior visual perception. Supplement long-range aiming and increases dynamic vision. Furthermore, at higher ranks it is possible to acquire precognition ("see into the future") and other forms of perception that are beyond normal eyesight (X-ray vision and the sorts)

At this rank, Koschei is capable of Far Sight, seeing though objects (including own eyelids, sadly) and recognizing prana signatures, as well as keeping track of objects far away.

STRENGTH: //[/color] C+
ENDURANCE: //[/color] E
AGILITY: //[/color] D
MANA: //[/color] A+
LUCK: //[/color] C
NOBLE PHANTASM: //[/color] A+++
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[/color][/b][/color] Ruslan
FACE CLAIM: //[/color] Cecil Harvey; FFIV
OTHER CHARACTERS: //[/color] Ruslan Vladimirovich Kurakin
MISC. INFORMATION: //[/color]Koschei’s fortes in Witchcraft include: Shapeshifting, summoning, charm, weather control, sleep, curses, illusions, and raising undead. “Also able to perform a limited teleportation spell, which makes him immobile at the start and the end of the spell.” - NOT spatial distortion. Reconstruction of matter.
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