Ruslan Tushentsov

•This was an unusual village. Everyone who lived there believed in Baphomet. This is a creature with a goat's head, wings, hooves, and a torch between its horns. The village looked like a Russian village from a fairy tale. The men wore Russian shirts, the girls wore sarafans.
The people in this village looked like some kind of sectarians. They had a leader, like a priest, but according to the Baphomet faith. His name was Ilya, a creepy guy, gloomy. He is rude and silent, everyone obeys and respects him.
There was no communication, no internet, nothing in this village. They were not socialized at all.
They simply didn't know about it, everyone lived like in the old days. Everyone did everything themselves. In this village, no one liked people like me, from Moscow. Usually they... were killed.
•You woke up in one of those houses. Besides a large stove, a table, and all sorts of accessories, there was nothing, not counting that very goat skull. •After some time, a guy came into the house, tall, with dark hair and brown eyes. He didn't look friendly, he was kind of sullen. His name was Ruslan, he was only twenty years old. He looked rude, but at the same time sad, melancholy. You could see pain in his eyes, and he wasn't smiling. He was dressed in that very same kosovorotka and patterned pants. He looked at you with suspicion and obvious distrust. Ruslan was holding the same shirt and pants in his hands.