* Welcome!

* Important Links

* BR Councils



Character of the Year

Thread of the Year

* Affliates

Affiliate with Us

Blood Rites RPG

Listed At

RPG-D Nerd Listings

Our Affiliates


* Credits

RSS Feed  Facebook  Tumblr    E-Mail

Canon: © Anne Bishop
Board's Plot: Blood Rites
Points Scheme: Mother Night
Ratio System: Blood Rites

Blood Rites best viewed in Firefox.
Established February 2010
by Jamie, Gina & Bowie.

* Welcome Guests

You are currently viewing our forum as a Guest. While you can see all we do, you can't participate. Please think about joining, we love new players. Click Here for more information.

Show Posts

This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.

Topics - Dmitri Petran

Pages: 1
Dena Nehele / Who's afraid of the big bad wolf
« on: Dec 30, 18, 10:24:55 PM »
Dmitri looked around the room that he had been provided. Okay, the second room he had been provided.  The first one they had taken him to was larger yes, but the windows were small and faced some little garden that was flanked on the other side by another wing.  It made him feel suffocated and as calmly as he could manage without snarling, he had asked if there were another place he could use, something with a garden door maybe.  He wasn’t trying to be difficult but at least with a garden door he could open them in the warmer months and have lots of air and not feel closed in.

So this brought him to this second room.  Smaller, if smaller meant he could fit most of a small cottage into the suite compared to the whole village.   Fuck, if this was what it meant to work for a Territory Court, maybe he should have let them sell him off to the one in Raej long ago.   If this was the Price he had to pay to stay in Dena Nehele, then so be it.   It was so clean!   His Healer Mistress had been meticulous in her cleaning because of her practice, but this was pristine.  It made his skin itch.  Perfection was all an illusion, and what looked so good had to be hiding something.

As soon as he was left alone, he threw himself on the bed, wiggling around to make it look a little less pressed and neat.  Damnit, this was a nice bed!  He rolled around a little, spanning out the size.  Mmmm large enough for more than two people to sleep comfortably.   He grinned mischievously at the thoughts that drifted through his head as he hopped off the covers and began pushing against the frame.  No loud squeaking and just enough space to the wall that he could do some serious thrusting before the wall would begin to crack.  Excellent.   Now to hope that the Queen wasn’t one of those prudes who wanted nocturnal activities kept quiet.  He was anything but quiet.

Glancing around, he strode over to the garden doors and threw them open, walking out into the warm air and sunshine.   Some hedges that acted as dividers but nothing tall enough to obstruct his view of the distant hills and forest.  He walked along the path that lead past his room, following it along until he came across a different sort of garden, with plants that he was all too familiar with.  Kneeling down, his fingers began to trace along the different growing things that a Healer would need for potions and tonics.  He looked around and saw a large glass window and another door that faced where he was standing. 

“Must be the Healing rooms,” he said to no one but himself.  Good to know he could cut through the outside to get to his assignment without everyone gawking him in the corridors.

Dena Nehele / Remove our shackles and let us live as free men
« on: Dec 23, 18, 11:52:18 PM »
Dmitri strode widely through the gardens, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers as he took long deep breaths of the cool air laced with the smell of rich earth.  He passed through the last of the small bordering walls’ gate and out into the open field just beyond the residence before stopping, tilting his head up to the blue sky. 

It had been an insanely long morning, and he wasn’t particularly looking forward to following Victoria around the residence as she made her rounds.  Always inside, always cooped up.   He needed the open air, without feeling the walls closing in on him.   He must have been getting rather growly because Victoria had shuffled him out to the gardens, promising do nothing more than take a short nap and rest in her room.  Short of any major catastrophe, he expected her to remain asleep for the better part of an hour.  Enough time for him to get the staleness of the air indoors out of his system and to ease the energy inside.

Time passed quicker here than in Raej he felt, a day seemed linger there while it had already been several weeks since he signed his contract to the Court Healer and began serving as her Escort.  He needed to make some time to visit one of the Red Moon Houses soon, he was starting to get itchy, and that usually meant his tolerance for things that annoyed him dropped to almost nothing.

He would go back and look in on the plants that would remain in the garden for the winter season, as the Apprentice Kale and Victoria had already repotted and brought what they needed inside to ride out the cold but a quick turn around the field, with the crisp air and damp ground beneath his feet was exactly what he needed in that moment.

He finally found a spot far enough away that no one looking out a window would see him, calling in a worn blanket and laying it in the grass before he laid out and stared up at the lazily floating clouds that graced the blue sky.   Quiet, open, fresh. He could enjoy this place as long as he got to escape out here during the day.    HIs mind drifted and his attention wandered enough that he didn’t even noticed the sound of anyone walking through the grass until they just about tripped over him. 

Snarling he called up a Gray shield and pounced on the intruder, before the scent of Queen filled his nostrils, power almost as dark as his own.   He almost looked, almost turned his eyes to her face but at the last moment, he pushed her away, scrambling back and looking pointedly at anywhere that wasn’t her face.  No, he knew what could happen if he looked her in the eyes and he was damned well not about to take that chance.

Dena Nehele / Petitioning Sanctuary
« on: Nov 07, 18, 09:51:52 PM »
Dmitri stared up at the ornate stone building, large and official looking.  It seemed cold and in his opinion a little ridiculous, carvings and accents were all over.  This was definitely something that belong to an aristo, probably the court seat of Queens forever.  He could almost picture the inside being decadent and horribly decadent.  If there were fat little winged babies hanging from the ceiling, he might even feel sick. 

He enjoyed art, he enjoyed beauty, and took great pleasure in looking on works of talent and skill but there was a great difference between stylistically beautiful and gaudy and overdone.  He hoped that whoever had designed the exterior had NOT had a hand in the decorations inside.  He studied a carving that rose out of the stone beneath the overhang that protected visitors from rain as they waiting for the door to be answered.  Mother Night,  seriously?  Pick flowers or pick wildlife but don’t create clusterfucks of both. 

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he heard someone approaching, heels on marble floor judging by the hard click of footsteps and straightened his posture as the door opened and a well dressed man in a uniform appeared and slowly glanced up at him.  Dmitri could have grinned, he did love having that effect on people who were not used to someone as tall as him appearing before them. 

“May I help you?” the man said in a properly crisp voice.

“I was told by a guard at the landing web to come here.  I need…” he suddenly felt a little silly.  Could someone just walk up and see the Queen?  Didn’t they have schedules for meeting with people and didn’t just take someone in off the street.  “I was hoping to speak to the Queen, or whoever is in charge of the guard?  I’m looking for work.”   Okay, that sounded pretty pathetic even to him and he resisted the urge to cringe at the stupidity of his words.   A credit to his training, the other man didn’t say anything disparaging, but did eye the Grey jewel at his neck with concern.

“I will see if there is someone available to see you.  Do you have a card or a name to offer?”

Dmitri fumbled.  No, he didn’t have a card.  Was he supposed to?  He didn’t remember Lady Fadid having cards that she used.  “   It’s a little complicated.  My name is Dmitri Petran,” the name was becoming easier to use each time he gave it, “I just came here from Raej and it's really important that I talk to someone in charge as soon as I can.”  There, that sounded civil right?   

The butler regarded him calmly before stepping to the side and motioning him in.  “I will have to ask you to wait in that room,” he said pointing to the nearest door,”[/b] and not leave until someone comes to you.  There has been much recently and a Prince of your strength cannot be left unattended in the residence.  There is coffee inside.  Please make yourself comfortable and I will notify a member of the First Circle that you have arrived.”[/b]   Dmitri nodded and stepped through the door that was offered and as soon as he crossed the threshold had the strangest sensation of being watched.  Not that anyone else was in the room, but that strange tickle against the back of the neck that meant that someone or something was keeping an eye on him.   He shrugged it off, he would have thought them pretty stupid to let him into their home without any sort of reference or appointment without precautions.   He stepped over to the waiting carafe and poured himself a cup of the black liquid, making himself comfortable on a couch as he waited for someone to fetch him.   

Hmmm, good coffee.

Dena Nehele / Dmitri Petran
« on: Dec 05, 17, 04:00:59 AM »
The Basics

Character Name: Dmitri Petran
Nicknames: Mitri  but only Kale can call him that
Age and Birth Year:  28 (166 AP)
Race:  Short-Lived
Caste:  Warlord Prince
Birth Territory: Dena Nehele
Home Territory: Dena Nehele

Birthright Jewel: cut Green
Offering Jewel:  cut Gray

Role: Escort for the Court Healer
Faction: Second Circle, Territory Court


Play By: Djordje Bogdanovic
Distinguishing Features: Crooked nose from a childhood brawl (Healer didn’t fix his nose straight, leaving a pronounced curve to the bridge of his nose.   This doesn’t take away from his attractiveness, quite the contrary the flaw lends itself to drawing the eyes to his face in a mesmerizing way.  Besides, you can’t really see it unless he stands in profile.



Dmitri exudes the aura of a man that is as dangerous as he is tempting; an alluring contradiction that pulls people in as much as it pushes them away. His default expressions do not help matters, bordering just the side of polite boredom but only when he is in a passable mood. Should he edge towards anger, it is known because his expression turns dark and tumultuous. If he smiles? It might be best to turn the other direction and walk away because he is not a man who smiles because something delights him. He smiles when he has caught something in his hands and is about to enjoy it in all the ways that he can.

He is formally trained as a Healer’s Escort, though he isn’t pleased about this arrangement.  It was a training that was forced upon him by his last Master with all the self-serving intentions that she had planned.  Still, it did allow him to temper some of his aggression into the natural protective instincts of his Caste, for while he didn’t really like the keeper of his Controlling Ring, she was in a sense HIS to protect in a twisted way. 

When it comes to Dmitri and sex, he is a hedonist; taking pleasure from whatever and whomever he can and he enjoys the pursuit of beauty.   Had he been born of wealth instead of subjected into slavery, he might have enjoyed a career as a collector of art and lovers.  His needs in Raej had been sated both men and women, both free and slave.   He didn’t mind fulfilling both their needs and his own in this.

Now as a free man he is discovering the things that he enjoys for his own pleasure without fear of reprisal or that fucking painful leash around his Ring of Obedience.  His lust for bloodshed and the need to see others broken and bloody at his feet was one of the first thirsts he quenched as he made his way out of Raej and the experience excited and disturbed him.  Was this the man he truly was, tempered only by that cold metal around his neck or could he, would he be more?

Dmitri has learned that there are insecurities in him that he never had the time to discover before. Free, his thoughts his own and not monitored, he is not sure who he is really, what really motivates him in this life, because he is just now learning to live it. The idea of being free was all he could think about and now that he has obtained it, he is realizing that being free is a much larger state of being than he anticipated.  A man who had no choices in the direction of his life now has every avenue open but without the life experience and knowledge of what to do with those options.  Part of him fears that he needs guidance. That without someone dictating his day he will simply sate his more base desires from day to day and it will become the start of a new collar that will be much harder to escape.

He knows what his favorite drink is, his favorite foods; though now that he’s in this new place those things might change with local flavors but he has no idea what it means to travel for the pleasure of seeing a new place without being on assignment.   He has never wanted, or perhaps he never wished to risk the chance of something more than a passive affair because how could he give himself to another when he had no rights to even his own body.  Yet, he yearns to know, to stretch beyond the limited confines of his life’s experiences so far and absorb everything that life now can hold for him.

Dmitri does not know who he is and that is a scary thing but he is willing to learn that man, through trials and errors, and perhaps find something more along the way.   Just so long as it doesn't involve another collar, literal or rhetorical, because freedom means too much to him. His trip through Dena Nehele has been a gauntlet of self-restraint and temptations, but recent overturning of slavery presented Dena Nehele as a beacon of a new start.

  • Water - He loves it.  Had his childhood been different, he would have been the young boy jumping in every puddle and stream he came across and was out playing in every rainstorm.  Coming to Dena Nehele, the first thing he did was strip all his clothing off and jump into a swimming hole.  It was of course advantageous that it was very shallow because he never learned to swim but he will learn.  He never feels like he can't get enough of just laying in bodies of water as long as humanly possible.  He doesn’t even care how wrinkled he becomes.  If he could, he would live in a pond outside, just to constantly be in water.
  • Not being bonded to a Queen - He feels sorry for those poor bastards, stuck panting behind a Queen like a puppy on a leash.  He has no desire to meet his Queen and is hoping the Queen that he has to make nice with will be nothing more than another Witch in his place of work. He prefers to keep his life in his own hands, despite knowing instinctively that only HIS Queen would have a better hand than his over his volatile nature.
  • Pipes - He enjoys lighting up and inhaling the fragrant taste and scent of a pipeful of tobacco.  Not one of those skinny fashionable small things that the Aristos like to inhale, but a sturdy clay pipe has a feel and a weight to it.  It helps relax him when he feels himself stepping a little too close to the edge.  It is a suitable though weak replacement for what he would really like between his lips, but there are some things you can’t do in polite society.
  • Dry Heat - He loathed everyday he lived in Raej, inhumanly dry and horribly hot.  If he never saw an arid piece of land again, it would be too soon.
  • Ginger - Dmitri cannot stand the smell of ginger.  His Healer Mistress used it in a variety of her remedies and just the smell from the brews that she would cook up would linger on his skin and in his hair.  Sometimes he wonders if it has become fixed within his nose and mouth, and sometimes he can almost taste it in the air, a constant reminder of who he was and that he can never really outrun his past.
  • Feeling cooped up-  Living in chains and cages, being confined to small rooms and punishment boxes, Dmitri hates feeling enclosed or boxed in.  He cannot stand to be restrained in any sense, but especially around the neck.  His jewels are set into rings and cuffs, and he refuses to wear any sort of necklace or tie.
  • Acknowledging that he is afraid - Fear is a weakness, a chink in the armor that can be widened and made worse.  Dmitri very obviously hides this insecurity behind a grumpy and sometimes hostile outward demeanor, lashing out at the very suggestion that he is anything but a strong and fearless man.   After all, if you are afraid of him, you are less likely to try to be around long enough to figure him out that deeply.
  • Mind tampering -  Black Widows raise a natural sense of distrust in him, being that they are known for such specialties.  All his life he was used as a tool for someone else’s pleasure, and to have his mind stripped and played with like a puppet on a string raises his hackles.
  • Recapture- Even now with his Gray, he knows that he isn’t completely safe from being collared and returned to Raej, to a life of forced service where his will and his life are stripped from his hands once again.  He has only begun to enjoy this new life, a life without the weight of metal around his throat, where he has the options to go where he wishes and become what he wishes.  Death and destruction will come if anyone tries to place that thing around his neck again.
Craft Strengths:
  • Combat shielding - Not being allowed to have actual combat training, Dmitri adapted his need to break the bones of his enemies into a form of combat shielding, using craft to mold and shape physical-like attacks that would hit hard enough to incapacitate or if he was really pissed off, crush.  However, these attacks were never formed in a traditional manner to make it combat craft because he can use these same tricks of craft to put up obstacles in front of his opponents or those who are seeking to harm the person he is meant to protect (whether he really wants to or not).
  • Defensive shielding - As part of his multitude of lessons, the most importantly ingrained was the necessity that he protect his Healer at all costs.  This led in the development of his craft skills to create and hold strong double layered shielding around his Healer.
Craft Weaknesses:
  • Detecting psychic scents - Dmitiri cannot smell the psychic scents that come off a person, not unless he is quite literally on them.  This lack of ability has led to quite a few of his most violent outlashings because he would rather strike first and ask questions later than risk his own neck. 
  • Tracking Craft - Tied in with his extremely weak ability to detect psychic scents, he cannot track a person worth a damn.  The only saving grace to some of those who took him on in a fight is that after they ran away, he was unable to pursue and finish the kill.   This weakness infuriates Dmitri, which only makes his temper more volatile.  The two weaknesses combined make him an easy target and easy prey if someone would try a sneak attack.
Life Story

Mother:Darius Grigorescu , Witch (deceased)
Father: Emilia Grigorescu , Warlord Prince (deceased)
Healer Owner:  Sandra Fadid, Yellow to Rose Healer (deceased)


Dmitri was a foundling, his parents assumedly killed in the progress of being burgled, though why anyone would break into their shabby and barely standing home was a mystery to anyone who saw the place.  At only a few weeks old, he was taken in by a local Priestess orphanage to be raised until a family wanted to bring him home.  Many families came, but one by one they all left with another child, another baby.  The challenge of bringing home a young, emotionally starved Warlord Prince was more than many wished to take on.

Dimtri barely remembers anything of the earliest days of his childhood; his first memory is only of the hands restraining him and the feel of a collar being slid around his throat as he became one of a number of orphan children that had been taken from Tulzbruja in Dena Nehele before they had their Birthrights. While he was potentially trouble as a Warlord Prince, there was a great deal of coin to be made if he could be trained and trained well.

Raej was a bright, hot hell for the young Dmitiri and he rebelled at every opportunity.  It didn’t take long before he had developed a reputation as a troublesome pest to have as property, causing fights and attacking other slaves, finding every which way to be disobedient and rebellious.  He suffered greatly for it, but where some might have had the streak beaten out of him, each lash and broken bone only reinforced his desire to fight back.

He was often traded and sold on a yearly basis, when it became apparent that his potential worth as an adult was not worth the cost of his outbursts.   With each sale, Dmitri grew more and more emboldened to act out figuring that eventually they would simply cast him aside.  He would have rather endured starvation in the streets as a beggar then the idea of being someone’s owned property.

During one of his more violent outbursts, in which he attempted to pummel the son of his owner with his fists while caught in the storm of anger that often swept away his better judgement, his nose was badly broken.  He was thrown to a local Healer in an attempt to fix the nose enough to be functional but was told to be sure that “it would never be straight again.”   The hope was that it would be a humbling reminder to the young boy of who held control of his life, not that Dmitri needed the reminder.  He wore it around his fucking neck everyday.

The Healer in question agreed to the terms of the arrangement and fixed his nose enough to be functional, but left the bridge a distorted crooked mess.  It gave his nose a flat, unattractive quality that only made his long face look even more horse like.  Still there was something about the angry and destructive boy that gave the Healer the idea that he would be useful to her.  She made an offer to his Master, who was more than happy to agree to her offer for his purchase, paying him almost twice what he had purchased Dmitri for.

The Healer, Lady Fadid as he learned her name was,  took him home and made him an offer.   She would arrange for his Birthright, something his previous Master had denied him the year previous and would train him to serve as her Escort to aid her as she approached her later years and would need the assistance.  In return, the beatings would stop and as long as he did as he was told, she would not use the controlling ring on him. 

At first, he all but laughed at this arrangement.  After all, if he wanted to give up for words and promises, he could have done that from the beginning and had a much easier life.  The first few weeks he pushed and pushed hard. He ran away, she had him brought back, he flew into a rampage and destroyed her workroom and she had the items replaced. He threatened her life and she ignored him.  He refused to eat and she left him food by his door when he couldn’t hold out anymore.

Slowly and reluctantly, he began to fight less and listen more.  He still snarled and grumbled at the workload she gave him to complete and more often than not found himself too tired to fight by the evening meal.  Still, she never raised a hand against him in any way that caused him pain.  Instead, she spoke to him coldly but rationally and for the first time in his life he felt guilt over the window that he smashed or the creative but horrible names he came up for her.

All the attendees were horrified when he emerged with a bright Green jewel in his hands, a look of triumph in his face when he emerged from his Birthright.  The troublesome, violent slave boy wore a darker jewel than many of his previous masters had in their offerings.   A group came to the Healer, insisting she hand him over to someone with more power, more control over the Warlord  Prince before he lashed out and broke free. 

To everyone’s surprise, no more than Dmitri’s, she loudly refused and told them that if she wasn’t strong enough to hold the leash on a half grown boy child wore a slave’s collar then she wasn’t fit to wear her own jewels and they would do well to kill her right then.   Seeing as she had been a well respected and well connected member of the village, the group left.

It wasn’t the first time, nor the last that a group would come to her door demanding that Dmitri be turned over to the hands of another Master.  Offers came to her from wealthy aristos that were four, five and sometimes ten times what she paid for him and every time she shook her head and refused.

He was still a slave, there was no affection between them but Dmitri began to develop a sort of respect for the woman.  She was after all the first person to treat him with a modicum of respect, even if that respect was still held at the end of a controlling ring.  So he performed his tasks and began to learn the skills that would make him a valuable asset to any Healer. 

Puberty held a whole new level of troubles, as the anger and aggression of a Warlord Prince began to mix with a burgeoning sexual desire that began to manifest itself within a few years of his Birthright.   His first Rut sent him into a raging nightmare of sex that resulted in a young maid being let battered when he had caught her alone walking past the Healer’s home one evening. 

That was the first time that Dmitiri realized what lived beneath his skin, and why so many had wanted to place him in a new ownership as soon as he walked away with the Green.  Fadid paid a substantial fee to the maid’s employer and took on the responsibility of mending her injuries as best that could be repaired.   Dmitri was forced to work for the man for a month, enduring hard physical labor as recompense.

Dmitri never lost that edge of violence that had developed in his childhood.  The threat of controlling ring could only restrain him so much.   At seventeen his violent attack on a local man led to his back being broken and at nineteen on the verge of his Offering, he lashed out against a group of youths who decided that a slave was fair game for a group beating.   When Dimitri walked away from that Killing Edge, only one of the men was able to walk away with any sort of certainty.   

The only person who never suffered from his wrath or ire was Fadid, who he had reached a begrudging respect for.  She had never once broken her word against him and while he waited only for the day when he could tear the infernal collar from his throat, he had to admit that being a trained Escort was much more useful to his future.

When the evening of his Offering came, the whole village waited with their breath held to see what the Darkness would unleash upon them.   Some had whispered that he should be put down like the rabid dog that he was before he could lash out and break free of his collar.   As the dawn rose, a fog swept through the square around the plaza, thick and heavy and choking, a soup of Gray that hid everything from view.  When the sun fully rose and burned away the fog, Dmitri and Fadid were gone.  No one needed to question which jewel now hung over their heads like a deadly sword.

Six more years Dimitri served his Mistress,  lashing out only against those who were stupid enough to step to the line with him, and finding a willing Witch who found the idea of a steady Gray Warlord Prince in her bed exciting and arousing and agreed to supply him with a steady bedmate and focus for any Ruts.  She actually enjoyed the brutality he could bring and encouraged it.

For the most part, Dmitri’s outbursts of aggression and violence faded to a whispered memory.   He learned his Protocol well and to the most casual observer, was the picture perfect escort to the Healer.  There was even talks, whenever the Healer took to her bed in illness or weakness, that when she did return to the Darkness he could be sold to an Aristo line or even perhaps to a Court.  With his training and strength, he could bring quite the windfall to the Healer’s heirs.

One morning, Dmitri awoke to find Fadid unresponsive in her bed.  His own skills told him that she had died in her sleep.   Without wasting a moment, he pulled the controlling ring from her cold hands and released the filthy collar around his neck finally being free for the first time in over twenty years.  Knowing that as soon as her death became known, he risked recapture and being sold yet again, he ran for the border. Catching the Green Winds, he headed north.  He had heard news of a Witch storm striking the territory of Dena Nehele and he figured in a land that devastated, someone with a Gray jewel could make themselves useful.  He would find a way to seek an audience with the Territory Queen and ask to stay, maybe taking up a position within the guard.  Certainly someone with his jewels would be in demand as a source of protection.

It took him longer than he anticipated, having to drop from the Winds several times and take refuge in the freezing cold mountain tops of Askavi, but when he finally landed exhausted, he was told he had reached his destination.   Dena Nehele was already everything Raej wasn’t.  Temperate, wet, with a million things to see that weren’t bleached by the sun.   He realized fairly quickly that he would need to change his clothing to something that looked less foreign, already he had received a few shaded looks but he ignored them and set into the town to see about how he could get to the capital.

Show Us What You've Got

Character in Play:

Pulling himself together Dmitri stepped off the landing web, bristling as a man in a guard’s uniform approached him.

“Name and purpose for being here?”

Dmitri felt his shoulders tighten and the words “none of your fucking business” almost slipped past his lips but he bit his tongue and swallowed them back down.  The name thing, he knew what he had been called by his Masters, usually nothing kind or resembling a proper name.  He had a name in his head, something he vaguely remembered from a far away memory.

“Dmitri ...Petran,” he made up the last name, he doubted a first name alone would satisfy the requirement and he had known a Petra once.  Closest thing to a friend he had ever had in those shithole slave camps between sales.  Scrawny feisty Witchling, caused as much trouble as he did.  He wondered briefly if they had broken her down finally and what had become of her. Strange he hadn’t even thought of her before that moment.   “Came to Bidea looking for some work, maybe the Guard. Heard about the trouble here a few weeks ago and thought I might be of use.”   His hand slipped out of his pocket, turning just enough to bring the man’s eye to the Gray jewel that rested on his finger.

The man paled just slightly, making a note before tearing out a piece of paper and handing it to him.  “Gives you a pass for the day to go as you please.  You’ll need it to be anywhere around the Queen’s residence.  Show this to the guard at the gate and tell them you want to speak to the Master of the Guard about work.”  He waved Dmitri on his way.

Relief flooded him, and he smoothed his hands down the black shirt and pants he had chosen to wear.  Actually, it was less of a choice than an opportunity.   A rather unfortunately stupid group of men had decided he looked like easy prey and attempted to rob him. 

Thankfully one of the men had been his size, and he could change out of his obviously foreign clothing into something that seemed more suited to the men in this Territory.  Also thankfully the clothes had been dyed pitch black, which made some of blood he had spilled to acquire his new clothing far less visible.  He wasn’t sure if they smelled like their previous owner, or of his blood.  He had found a fountain and soaked the shirt in it, grateful for the warmth of the summer on his bare skin.   

Tucking his hands inside his pockets and pulling out the leather wallet that was filled with an assortment of marks, he made his way in the direction that the guard sent him.   First perhaps a tavern for hot meal and a bath to wash away the last of any scents that might cling to him before presenting himself.

He presented a few marks to the innkeeper, padding the payment for a private bathroom and the condition that he receive his meal in his room and otherwise be left undisturbed.   Then he filled a moderate sized tub with scalding water and soaked away most of the morning.  The heat helped, easing aches and relaxing tense muscles and drained away the tight feeling in his back.  Not caused by any physical discomfort but the residing tension of keeping himself from lashing out at every stray look that came his way.   Dmitri sighed and let his head hang back over the rim of the tub.  Mother Night, he was exhausted.  He had worked full days of backbreaking labor and never felt quite so tired.  Was this his life now?  An endless ongoing parade of days and nights where he was forced to grit his teeth against the need, the hunger to feel a body in his hands.   Right now, he didn’t much care if he was kicking someones ass or fucking it, but the need was there.

Realizing the water had gone cold, he rose up out of the bath and dried himself off with the rough towel provided, studying the whipcord scars that mapped his chest and abdomen in the mirror before dressing himself one again in his ill-gotten outfit, slicking back his wet hair and tried to look a little less...what?  He attempted a smile, and shuddered at the sight.  No, he couldn’t paint on a smile like some.  He tried to look at least neutral and found that it seemed a little more genuine. 

A maid arrived with a tray of hot stew and fresh bread with a pint of ale, and he tipped her generously following through with a playful swat to her behind as she was leaving.  The look she gave him told him that inquiries that night would prove very fruitful and that did a little something to ease his tension.   He ate quickly and then hurried out of the inn towards what seemed to be the Queen’s residence. 

By the time he was finally called in for an audience, he was beginning to feel his control slipping.  Guards, males that walked by, everyone seemed to trigger his need to lash out, to growl at them and probably to do more.   To his surprise, he was lead to a large room that had far too many men in there to put him at ease, and they were all hovering around one woman. 

This must be the Queen,  he thought as he performed a Protocol appropriate bow in her direction.   A man who heeded Protocol as little as possible, he didn’t wait for introductions.

“My name is Dmitri Petran, formerly of Raej.   I’ve come to your land seeking a new start, employment, and refuge from the life of slavery I have recently escaped.  I do not wish to go back there and am putting myself at your mercy for sanctuary and to avail myself and my skills to your service.”  Something tugged at him and he gritted his teeth before continuing, “I’ve ...had some encounters since I crossed your border, left a few lads with a lesson and some broken bones but if you will let me stay, I will pay your Price for my indiscretions and strive to make myself a better man at your command.  I’m a good fighter, I can serve in your Guard if it please you.”

The words hurt, they were almost like giving his neck back to the collar but he wasn’t stupid.  Murder was not illegal and the Gray was a strong jewel, but there were enough men here that he could be taken down if she wished it.  Maybe if he could appeal to her better nature, he might have a chance.

Player Name: Lene

Pages: 1