Anatolya Gruzna

Gavril and Grigory were two fox brothers from the Gruzny family, living in Dolgia—growing up at the edge of what’s known as the Domestic East. Life out there was simple. As the West became swept up by industrialization, the vast landscapes of the East were left untouched by modernity. But this peace and simplicity wouldn’t last forever. The КоДССР and Animerica were already locked in an ideological arms race, constantly on the lookout for resource-rich lands to grab and pull under their rule.

Gavril, the older brother, always dreamed of living in a big city—experiencing a life of comfort and modernity: electricity, large food markets with fully stocked shelves.
Grigory, on the other hand, was a simple fox, content with forest life and doing his best to live by the laws of nature.

Rumors began to spread that the КоДССР had recently built a tractor factory somewhere in Dolgia, hoping to expand its influence by encouraging locals to modernize their means of production. Meanwhile, strange whispers echoed from the mountains. Some even claimed to have seen mountain goats using high-tech explosive ordnance to shoot down КоДССР helicopters. Grigory believed it was the goats’ angry response to construction on their sacred land. Gavril, however, feared something far worse was brewing. After all, mountain goats don’t go from using muskets and swords one day to launching laser-guided missiles the next.

Gavril feared that Dolgia was about to become a proxy warzone for the usual suspects. He wanted no part in it. Seeing the writing on the wall, and taking advantage of КоДССР's neutral stance toward Dolgian citizens, he applied for a visa and left for the capital. Grigory, however, decided to stay behind and defend the home he built. It wasn’t much—but it was his life’s work, and he wouldn’t let it be leveled by Animerican-funded rebels or КоДССР heli-squads without a fight.

Ten years later, the First Kebab War was finally over.
By then, both brothers had taken very different paths.

Gavril had started a new life abroad. With his sharp mind for mathematics, it took him just seven years to climb into a respected role as an economist-planner in the town he was assigned to: Gavnostok. He ensured the town's Kopatel Tractor Factory stayed well-resourced and at peak productivity, no matter the situation. His reputation soon preceded him, and he eventually found a partner—who later became his wife.

Life seemed stable and good. In Gavril’s mind, he was set for life: a respectable job, a loving wife, and a peaceful future. Far better than he ever imagined back in Dolgoslavia.
It almost seemed too good to be true.
And reality, as always, has a way of proving that no amount of joy lasts forever.

Gavril’s wife, Danya, always wanted a child of her own. Just as she entered the final stage of pregnancy, Grigory arrived—having survived the war and been granted a КоДССР visa.
By sheer coincidence, he was assigned to the same apartment complex as Gavril.

Grigory had managed to fight off invaders for five long years. But after miraculously surviving a mortar strike that destroyed his home—while he was sitting on the latrine—he finally realized how powerless he truly was. He left what remained of his life behind and made his way to Gavnostok.

One month later, Gavril’s daughter was born.
Tragically, Danya passed away shortly after childbirth.
With her last breath, she named the child: Anatolya.

Gavril now found himself knee-deep in work, with a newborn to raise, and a shattered heart to carry. Naturally, he buried himself even deeper in his job—anything to numb the pain. When Grigory stepped in and offered to take care of Anatolya, Gavril had no choice but to accept. He was too broken, too overwhelmed to manage it all alone.

Unlike Gavril’s tidy academic world of prestige and structure, Grigory lived by one rule: survive at all costs.
A rugged war vet with no patience for bureaucracy or norms, finding a normal job was impossible for him—and Anatolya’s upbringing soon followed suit.

Grigory quickly realized Anatolya struggled in school. She was dyslexic.
While Gavril tried to encourage her to work harder—to avoid ending up on the streets—Grigory had a different philosophy.
Rather than force her into a system that didn’t suit her, he took her under his wing. He taught her how to survive on her own: how to fight, how to shoot, how to break into cars with a sawblade, how to brew homemade alcohol and sell it to local bums for profit.

Gavril was distraught by the wild animal his daughter had become.
But he could never have predicted that Grigory’s unorthodox lessons would prepare her perfectly for what was to come.

When the dreaded year finally arrived, the КоДССР collapsed, and the tractor factory shut down. Gavril’s carefully constructed world of order and safety crumbled before his eyes.
But Anatolya?
She was more ready than anyone.

As society descended into chaos, Grigory handed Anatolya his old service revolver and gave her his car to live in.
“It’s time,” he said, sending her off into the broken city.

“Anatolya Gruzna! Atta girl!”
“That’s a name this cursed town is gonna know soon enough,” Grigory smirked, watching her disappear into the sunrise in a cloud of exhaust and glory.