Completed Back to the Primitive

[Dmitri Saratov]

Timestamp: 3rd of Fall, 512 AV Dmitri was lounging at his place, staring at a lit candle, when he couldn't help but to remember the last time he had seen his uncle, there was a lit candle then too...What was it with fire and him?...Either way, wondering what was going on with Markus, he was drifting down memory lane: 17 days had passed by now, since Dmitri's uncle had last been seen in Ravok. While his uncle had been Dmitri's caretaker and tutor for as long as he could remember, the man had a stoic attitude towards his disappearances, and most anything else for that matter. Granted, Dmitri would not be exactly thrilled if something had happened to his only known relative, but it's implausible that it'd have much of an effect on him anyway, if that'd be the case. Dmitri knew that his uncle had to go on the occasional mission, even if he'd never admit it. After all, Markus was a dedicated and utterly devoted followed of Rhysol and member of the Ebonstryfe, the military faction of Rhysol. Dmitri was residing in his room, shutters down and with a near-empty oil lamp, making it hard for anyone to see something apart from faint outlines and silhouettes. Perfect, as he was doing something that wasn't allowed to be seen by anyone but him. The candle with the small licking flame was placed strategically just before him, on the desk directly away from the door, that way even if someone busted his locked door down, they'd see nothing but a yellow aura around a seated shadow. His activities protected as best as he could, he focused on the virginal parchment before him, not yet tainted by any ink. Dmitri was clearly lost in thoughts, as his brows sometimes burrowed and his lips ocassionally parted briefly as if he had something to say that was stuck on the tip of his tongue. At long last, he dipped the tip of his quill in the small container of ink and started to note something down, slowly and carefully he moved his hand over the parchment, the tip of the quill touching the beige canvas just enough to let a thin trail of ink follow the quill neatly, Dmitri noted his thoughts down in one fluid moment, only stopping when he had written the few lines he had mused over for so long. As he held the paper up between his hands, he looked at the text and mumbled: "A cat and mouse, playing in the jungle. The mouse smells cheese and goes to eat. But the cat grows hungry too, unfortunately the mouse does not share his meal. So the cat does as a cat does, and once he had his meal, only the cheese remained." Dmitri figured most people wouldn't be able to decypher this message, especially not the nuances of it, while an actual coder or decoder could probably figure out this is a message describing two people who know eachother, growing apart by money or fortune, and one of them destroying the other...The details of the message are not encrypted nor noted down so the, imaginary, mission Dmitri had obtained was not in danger at any time. Enough training for now, so he moved the parchment to the candle and held it slightly above the flickering flame, eagerly licking the parchment until it's burning up and only ashes and a thin corner of empty paper remained. Suddenly, several strong knocks on his door resonated through the room, too late to trace anything from the swiftly casted aside ashes. "One moment."

[Dmitri Saratov]

Glancing around to make sure nothing suspicious would be visible to whoever was at his door, Dmitri slowly made his way to the door, unarmed but on guard. When his hands reached for the metal slidelock, louder and stronger sounds came from the door. Not intimidated, Dmitri continued unlocking the door at his own pace, before pulling it open slowly enough to be able to see the intrusive person or people, before their eyes would be able to adjust to the darkness of his room. That was the plan anyway, but the moment he had turned the knob on the door, it shot open by one hard push from someone with such hair on his forearm, it would put many bears to shame. "Welcome back, uncle Markus." Dmitri didn't need more than a breath to realise who this arm was from, and instantly unballed his fists. Because even if his uncle Markus raised him as his own son...Disrespect was something untolerated, and punished, severely. Dmitri greeted the large man by shaking his hand, as burly and strong the large bearded man appeared, he winced from it. To which Dmitri quickly let go and looked at Markus' hand...Almost his entire arm, from hand to shoulder, was severely burned. "Uncle? What the petch happened?! Who did this?!" The last part made the man let out a low chuckle, before entering the room and ordering Dmitri to refill the oil lamp while he opened the shutters. Dmitri knew that tone, this was absolutely not the time to do or say anything that could tick Markus off more than he already was. Once the fog of darkness disappeared from the room, it revealed a normal and neatly kept place without anything out of the ordinary, a clean and humble civilian room. Markus walked with a stride heavy as lead towards the trunk which he took a seat on, clearly exhausted and probably just back from whatever operation he had been sent on. Dmitri couldn't help but grin slightly, even in the state Uncle Markus was in, he checked in on his 'son', anyone would respect such a man. "...The man who did this, is not someone you can beat, not with strength and definitely not by wits!...But don't worry, boy, he'll get what's coming to him and once I got my fingers wrapped around his throat, I'll take it slow....Real slow...." While Markus spoke, his eyes remained frozen on Dmitri's, frozen yet burning with a searing hatred simultaneously. He could only nod as he stared right back at his uncle, without much emotion in his voice, except maybe chilling sincerity, Dmitri responded. "I'll be there, so the last thing he hears before he's allowed to die....Are his balls frying on the stove." His uncle nodded approvingly and even managed a smirk, before commanding Dmitri to grab the chair by the desk, lock the door and sit before him. Suddenly a flash appeared in Dmitri's mind, of the first time uncle Markus gave him a lecture, about how the world works and has always worked. He remembered it so vividly, he could remember the way Markus' hands were folder in eachother as he leaned with his elbows on the table, the diamond-patterned tablecloth and even the way his plate had jumped up when his uncle's fist hit the table, during an especially passionate part of the speech. After doing as told, Dmitri took a seat near his uncle and waited for what was to come.

[Dmitri Saratov]

Sitting so close to his uncle, it revealed how seriously he was burnt, his arm was downright scorched to the point the smell of seared flesh penetrated Dmitri's nose. Every time Markus had to make a movement with the wounded arm, he silently endured the pain, but the look on his face couldn't fully hide the agony. Keeping his weaknesses a secret from the ones he did not want to have worried about him, was one of his stubborn principles, Markus did not need sympathy or pity from anyone after all. 'It happened before we even had the chance to react...The man, the petching bastard who did this to my arm, engulfed our entire party in a sea of flames. Licking at our flesh, tasting our pain. It even seemed to blaze hotter every time it heard our pain and fear....I was the only one who made it out.' Markus spoke slow and as if he was mesmerized and reliving it all over again, the spark in his eyes had made way for a dazed sorrow while he spoke of the gruesome encounter that had costed him his comrades and the use of his arm. Dmitri could only imagine how it had to have been, for his uncle, being caught in a net of flames all around you and not being able to get out. Only feeling the agonizing pain, hearing the spinechilling screams of suffering friends, charred flesh and hair filling your mind by smell as well. As merciless as Dmitri may be, he felt many things coarsing through his mind and body while hearing and seeing his uncle in this state. Adrenaline; Hatred; Vengeance; Rage....Just to name a few. Markus noticed Dmitri's clenching fists and made a calming motion with his hand before proceeding with the brutal story. He spoke of his mistakes, of the way he escaped the flames and how he searched high and low in a ragedaze for the days after, hoping and praying to Rhysol for a chance to avenge the lost ones, to repent. '...But no trace was left of the...man. It was one of the rare times I had ever had to deal with a Reimancer. First time with someone of that caliber anyway, should've known, should've prepared better, should've...OKAY! What's done is done, no point in lingering down memory lane, you learn and you make a few shaky steps again before marching on with your head held high...For them!' '...Do you know what a Reimancer is, boy?' Dmitri nodded, he had heard tall tales of some magic, Reimancy being one of them. But his knowledge about it was just rumored hearsay and nothing confirmed by himself. Still he responded positively and was about to back his statement by attempting to explain what a Reimancer is, as best as he could, but his uncle beat him to the punch. 'A Reimancer is a corrupted being, they use Djed to create elemetal spells in order to destroy. Now let me ask you this, who in their right mind would warp their very essence, in such a manner, that all it can be used for is to destroy, never build. Never help, aide or support...Only destroy! Trust me, reimancers are vile creatures, their very abilities and methods are evil to the core, dangerous and sadistic. Never trust one and sure as hellfire...Never turn your back on one.' Dmitri nodded again, fairly sincerely, al though he realized his uncle's description was probably corrupted by his hatred and, probably, fear as well. The definition of a Reimancer that he had learned, before this one, was that they are arcanists of the elemental type, in truth fairly resemblant to the explanation his uncle had just given, but with less repulsive disgust mixed into it. Mix & Matching the 2 definitions, it was probable that the objective truth was that they are Djed manipulators and use it so that they are able to wield elemental magic in destructive manners. Much like a warrior does with his body, so do they with their Djed and mind...Dmitri did his best not to show the minor 'epiphany' which just occured, that they are no better or worse than any other brute going for the kill... "I'll keep that in mind, uncle. But how does one recognize a Reimancer before it's too late?"

[Dmitri Saratov]

The pained look as his uncle tried to come up with an 'intelligent' answer to that question, was hilariously sad. Dmitri kept his face straight and his spines from splitting, while waiting for the wheels in Markus' mind to stop turning. Making sure not to show any emotion of amusement at his uncle's brutish self, it would undoubtedly result in Dmitri's face being smashed against the wall, something he did not feel for. At long last his uncle finally managed to open his mouth. "Well, there are no telltale signs about someone being a Reimancer really. They look like any other, so you'd need to investigate and research a bit if you suspect someone of being one. Perhaps break into their private quarters and look for magical items...Hmm, yes, those vile things would probably be visibly evil with a corrupted aura of sorts to them, yeah! The ones I came into contact with so far, were usually no different than other civilians, I did notice most of them were wearing robes and light girly clothes...And one of'm even wielded a wooden stick...What a joke, I'd cut that thing in half with one swing of my axe!" His uncle's attempt to sound fierce and unintimidated by the 'girly' men who seem to be able to dish out serious hurt, came upon deaf ears of Dmitri. He was too occupied trying to sift out the rubbish and bullshyke of information from the noteworthy ones. While he figured the 'obvious' magical items was far from true, there might have been a bit of truth in his description of the mages' appearances. Mulling over it, Dmitri came to a crude conclusion. "Well, it would indeed be hard to differentiate them from civilians in an urban or civilized environment...But on a battlefield? If someone shows up without armor but in girly clothes and wielding a wooden stick as 'weapon' ... I'll make sure to keep an eye on them. I bet they're not there to get up in someone's face but rather prefer to keep their distance, which sounds like something a Reimancer would do..." "...Hmm, not bad, boy. I'll keep that in mind!" "So, what have you been up to, these last few weeks? You'd better not be slacking on your training, boy, The Black Sun doesn't tolerate the weak and meek in their ranks! Once you join, do everything in your power to be a valuable asset to Rhysol and The Voice. For Rhysol, For The Voice!" "For Rhysol; For the Voice!" Dmitri chanted the few words loud and strong, with his uncle. While he held no real allegiance or ties to pretty much anything or anyone, his faith in Rhysol and The Voice were unrelenting throughout the years, only growing stronger with each passing hardship or hurdle he came across. "Alright, I got to go and have this taken care off; Keep it up, boy!" As his uncle stood up straight, his Ebonstryfe tabard loosely hung over his chainmail armor, unfolded itself and showed the symbol of the Ebonstryfe proudly. Letting his uncle out and leading him to the door, he bid him one last fare well before locking the door as he heard the loud footsteps of his uncle, dwindling as distance increased.

[Nemesis]

. Thread Grade Pending Greetings! This is just a notification that, due to the use of a personal NPC and gaining knowledge, a grade can't yet be awarded. From your history, I can only assume that Dmitri's uncle is a regular feature who taught him much, therefore, if you plan to use him frequently to impart skills, lores and information, I must ask that you request the uncle as an approved NPC through the Help Desk. If this is a one if, ket me know and I will post your grade. Send me a PM either way and the thread grade will be posted. Thank ye, -Nemesis