Before the Founding
Years ago, around 1896, the land that was Backwardia was a loose and lawless place on the western coast of Anea, south of present day Necerierra. The largest town was named Habsin, with smaller villages and farms scattered throughout the countryside. Small fishing towns were strung on the coast. Groups of bandits traveled between towns to cause trouble and terrorize the locals. The largest of these bandit groups were called the Venchir. The Venchir were a peculiar group of thieves. Their leadership was passed down by blood, much unlike the other smaller bandit groups that based leadership off of merit. They were the most ruthless of the bandits and went where they wanted and took what they wanted, led by a man named Ibneom Venchir. Ibneom was particularly cruel and ruthless to the people he terrorized, demanding tributes from villages and even then putting some to the torch and killing innocent men, women, and children, solely for the fun of it.
One fateful day would bring about the beginning of the end of the Venchir reign of terror. On the evening of June 23, 1940, a Venchir raiding party of 25 men drove up to the small fishing hamlet of Monim in their jeeps and pickup trucks. The Venchir drove into the village square and hopped out of their trucks. A lieutenant of Ibneom Venchir, Balort Yornte, who was commanding the raiders took six guards and marched up to the house of the village elder, Moriss Sokit. Yornte kicked down the door and dragged the elder out of the house. The elder was gripped with fear as he desperately tried to tell Yornte that his village had already paid the monthly tribute. But the Venchir lieutenant did not care, and continued dragging him to the square. The convoy of vehicles and the shouting drew the attention of the fishermen who just got back from the sea with the day’s catch.
Once Yornte returned to the town square, he ordered the rest of his men to round up the fishermen and their families and bring them to the village square. Once the entire village was present, Yornte shouted that he was here to collect the June tribute. The elder and several of the fishermen protested that there was yet a week left in the month and that they needed more time. Yornte became furious at the villagers’ refusal to cooperate and ordered two of his men to beat the elder with the butts of their rifles. The elder screamed with pain, as his ribs cracked and his knees and elbows shattered. There was a scream from the crowd, and a teenage girl ran to the side of the elder, crying. Her name was Nora Sokit, the adoptive daughter of the elder. Nora had a twin brother named Jino, and were adopted by the elder following the death of their parents due to illness. Her brother was trying to run to his adoptive father’s side but one of the raiders grabbed him and threw him back into the crowd. Yornte grew silent, and with a sinister smile said “I think I know what I will take in lieu of your usual tribute this month”, before fluidly pulling the pistol from his holster, raising it to Nora’s head, and firing a single shot. For what seemed like an unimaginably long time, the gunshot was the only sound that echoed around the plaza. Then, there came the screams and wails of Moriss and the villagers. In rage, the villagers tried to rush Yornte, but then Yornte shouted to his men, “Shoot every last one! Burn the whole place down!”, before placing another bullet cleanly into Morris’s chest. The Venchirs opened fire with their automatic rifles, ripping through the crowd. Other Venchirs lit Molotov cocktails and hurled them at nearby buildings. Before long, the surviving villagers were scattering out of the plaza, pursued by maniacally laughing Venchirs both on foot and in their trucks.
Joni was in shock. The b******s had beaten up his father and executed his defenseless twin sister in front of everyone. When he saw his sister’s lifeless body slump to the ground, he screamed and began to run at the monster, intent on throttling him. Before he could get far, the bandits had started shooting. One of the young fishermen grabbed him by the back of his shirt and screamed at him to run. Joni and some other villagers ran down the street, bullets whizzing by and striking someone down every few seconds. He kept running and running, leaving the village square behind him. With his legs cramping and lungs burning, Joni collapsed next to a ditch just outside the village. The young fisherman was close behind him and jumped into the ditch as well. They both looked back in the direction of Monim. They saw and smelled the dark smoke blowing into the sky, and could hear the sound of revving engines and bursts of automatic fire. Joni stared at his home and everything he knew disappear into ash. Weakened from shock and exhaustion, Joni closed his eyes and knew know more.
Years ago, around 1896, the land that was Backwardia was a loose and lawless place on the western coast of Anea, south of present day Necerierra. The largest town was named Habsin, with smaller villages and farms scattered throughout the countryside. Small fishing towns were strung on the coast. Groups of bandits traveled between towns to cause trouble and terrorize the locals. The largest of these bandit groups were called the Venchir. The Venchir were a peculiar group of thieves. Their leadership was passed down by blood, much unlike the other smaller bandit groups that based leadership off of merit. They were the most ruthless of the bandits and went where they wanted and took what they wanted, led by a man named Ibneom Venchir. Ibneom was particularly cruel and ruthless to the people he terrorized, demanding tributes from villages and even then putting some to the torch and killing innocent men, women, and children, solely for the fun of it.
One fateful day would bring about the beginning of the end of the Venchir reign of terror. On the evening of June 23, 1940, a Venchir raiding party of 25 men drove up to the small fishing hamlet of Monim in their jeeps and pickup trucks. The Venchir drove into the village square and hopped out of their trucks. A lieutenant of Ibneom Venchir, Balort Yornte, who was commanding the raiders took six guards and marched up to the house of the village elder, Moriss Sokit. Yornte kicked down the door and dragged the elder out of the house. The elder was gripped with fear as he desperately tried to tell Yornte that his village had already paid the monthly tribute. But the Venchir lieutenant did not care, and continued dragging him to the square. The convoy of vehicles and the shouting drew the attention of the fishermen who just got back from the sea with the day’s catch.
Once Yornte returned to the town square, he ordered the rest of his men to round up the fishermen and their families and bring them to the village square. Once the entire village was present, Yornte shouted that he was here to collect the June tribute. The elder and several of the fishermen protested that there was yet a week left in the month and that they needed more time. Yornte became furious at the villagers’ refusal to cooperate and ordered two of his men to beat the elder with the butts of their rifles. The elder screamed with pain, as his ribs cracked and his knees and elbows shattered. There was a scream from the crowd, and a teenage girl ran to the side of the elder, crying. Her name was Nora Sokit, the adoptive daughter of the elder. Nora had a twin brother named Jino, and were adopted by the elder following the death of their parents due to illness. Her brother was trying to run to his adoptive father’s side but one of the raiders grabbed him and threw him back into the crowd. Yornte grew silent, and with a sinister smile said “I think I know what I will take in lieu of your usual tribute this month”, before fluidly pulling the pistol from his holster, raising it to Nora’s head, and firing a single shot. For what seemed like an unimaginably long time, the gunshot was the only sound that echoed around the plaza. Then, there came the screams and wails of Moriss and the villagers. In rage, the villagers tried to rush Yornte, but then Yornte shouted to his men, “Shoot every last one! Burn the whole place down!”, before placing another bullet cleanly into Morris’s chest. The Venchirs opened fire with their automatic rifles, ripping through the crowd. Other Venchirs lit Molotov cocktails and hurled them at nearby buildings. Before long, the surviving villagers were scattering out of the plaza, pursued by maniacally laughing Venchirs both on foot and in their trucks.
Joni was in shock. The b******s had beaten up his father and executed his defenseless twin sister in front of everyone. When he saw his sister’s lifeless body slump to the ground, he screamed and began to run at the monster, intent on throttling him. Before he could get far, the bandits had started shooting. One of the young fishermen grabbed him by the back of his shirt and screamed at him to run. Joni and some other villagers ran down the street, bullets whizzing by and striking someone down every few seconds. He kept running and running, leaving the village square behind him. With his legs cramping and lungs burning, Joni collapsed next to a ditch just outside the village. The young fisherman was close behind him and jumped into the ditch as well. They both looked back in the direction of Monim. They saw and smelled the dark smoke blowing into the sky, and could hear the sound of revving engines and bursts of automatic fire. Joni stared at his home and everything he knew disappear into ash. Weakened from shock and exhaustion, Joni closed his eyes and knew know more.