SilentTears
Dmitri is too edgy for his shirt
Character Sheet Link: Dmitri - Character Sheet
Preferred Game Speed: A few posts a day, most likely.
Backstory: Dmitri grew up the son of a powerful crime syndicate boss in Waterdeep. He never knew his elven mother and didn't have many actual friends. Both of his older brothers were born of other, human women, so he was ostracized from the outset as different. A half-elf bastard. His bright red hair, which he could have only gotten from his mother, didn't help much either, and he stood out like a sore thumb everywhere he went. At an early age, Dmitri trained with a few of his father's reconnaissance men, bodyguards and the like, learning the art of hunting other people. He began pulling in people who ran from his father at the age of 18, and offered his services to other high-paying patrons. With so much coin so early in life, he began drinking and partying with his so called "friends", who mostly consisted of mediocre university students and other young people, usually involved with the underworld in some way. Life was fun, and Dmitri met a young half-elven woman named Ysolda who took his breath away. She was a budding actress, beautiful, and very talented. She stayed with him for two years, swearing to be true. Until his money ran out. Then, she “forgot” how much she loved him and found another young rich fool to leech off of. Angry and bitter, he worked harder than ever then, but money could only do so much.
He was good at his work, but more often than not now, the quarry he was contracted to catch had abilities that made catching them difficult, sometimes impossible. He failed more than he liked; as determined as he was, he couldn’t always catch them. He needed magic. He had a few friends who studied the arcane, but they had trained their whole lives to reach abilities that were far below the power that he needed to attain to bring down the most elusive and slippery of Waterdeep. So in his free time, he spent hours training and searching for ways to gain magical abilities in a shorter amount of time. The only thing he found during this time was a symbol of an ankh, but any further research seemed useless. Every path to greater power always seemed to include the eastern symbol. After a few months of frustration and fruitless research, he gave up and took a job that, to him at least, seemed way out of his league. The target was an elusive serial murderer and terrorist with the alias “The Red Hand”. They had dispatched countless bounty hunters and reward seekers, and seemed to especially enjoy taking out veteran adventurers and magically broadcasting demands for tribute payments. The bounty was significantly more coin than previous jobs, and he wanted to test himself. To see if he really was as good as father seemed to think he was.
So the hunt began. It was tough at first, but the information Dmitri found eventually led him to a small cliff-side cottage north of the city. After setting a few traps in hidden, strategic locations, throwing knives in hand, he opened the cottage door and quickly took in his surroundings. The first thing that hit him was the smell; bacon and eggs and mushrooms, it was incredible. The interior was well lit from the windows, and he could clearly see a floating spatula expertly flipping an omelette in a simple but tidy little kitchen. A tall, dark-skinned human man with long black hair and a well trimmed beard sat in a comfortable-looking armchair, dressed in formal dark robes. His eyes were pure white, and he was reading a tome of some kind. On the front cover was a large symbol: an ankh. Sitting in another, less comfortable-looking wooden chair was a petite, athletic woman who looked to be struggling against some sort of invisible bonds. Her short, straight hair was pulled up into a ponytail, tucked behind pointed ears, and it was red. Bright red. Dmitri was still crouched, primed, ready to spring into action at the slightest move from either of them. Or the spatula for that matter.
The man looked up from the tome and smiled warmly.
“Ah, perfect timing!”
His deep voice boomed in the small living space.
“Amara, meet your son. He’s been looking for you for quite some time, I imagine…”
He trailed off. Both redheads stood—well, one sat—in stunned silence, looking at each other. The man closed the book, set it on the small table beside him, and Dmitri felt as if the man’s eyes burrowed into his soul. He continued.
“Edwin, I do hope our breakfast is ready soon, I’m simply ravenous.”
A small tilt of his head and the food floated onto two large plates that were positioned on a small table in the kitchen. He looked from the food to Dmitri.
“Oh do come in, Dmitri, I won’t bite.”
A pause, and he glanced in the woman’s direction with a smirk.
“She might though.”
A mug floated toward the man and he sipped from it. Dmitri slowly stalked into the room, still trying to take it all in; the cottage and the new information that is. Not sheathing his weapons, he relaxed his posture somewhat and stood in the doorway. After a moment, Dmitri spoke.
“What’s this about then? Who are you? This is my mother?”
“I am but a simple man who’s discovered a few simple things. Very important things, but simple nonetheless. And yes, yes of course. The Red Hand, murderer extraordinaire. Public enemy number one, and... your dear, sweet mother, who left you with a handsome but completely clueless and incompetent father.”
The woman spat and glared silently at the both of them, her struggling having regained its previous vigor. The man went on.
“I need a servant, Dmitri. I have things to do, big plans to hatch, people to see, bacon and eggs to eat… I can’t be bothered with hunting the bothersome creatures that attempt to undermine my causes. People and things, you understand.”
He stood suddenly and Dmitri’s muscles went to spring but nothing moved. He was powerless to do anything except watch as the man slowly walked toward him, his eyes suddenly replaced by two blazing white flames. Dmitri was cold. As the man got closer, he seemed to suck all the heat from Dmitri’s body. He moved past Dmitri’s face and whispered in his ear, chilling him to the bone.
“You and your mother or going to fight to the death. If you kill her, and serve me, I’ll grant you the power you seek. If she kills you, she’ll get the position, and become the nightmare Waterdeep couldn’t… dream… of.”
He backed away, showing a perfect set of tombstones, and the flames were gone.
“What you do with your power is up to you. I simply ask that you do a few favors for me every once in a while, hmm?”
He sat in the chair.
“Oh yes, and breakfast is waiting for the victor… Well? What are you waiting for? I’ve got all morning, but you don’t.”
The woman rocketed out of the chair and tackled Dmitri. They rolled out the door clawing at each other. The fight felt like it lasted forever. Blurs of red streamed across the beach. Red hair, red knives. Red sand that hadn’t been red before. The traps Dmitri had set did their dirty work well, but not before his own knives were heated by some magic of his mother’s and used against him, searing off the majority of his left hand and much of his left thigh.
Multiple stab wounds, heavy burns, and the much heavier weight of the knowledge that he had killed his mother whom he’d just met all made the short walk back to the cottage excruciatingly painful. He collapsed, face-up, eyes streaming from the physical and emotional pain. The last thing he saw was the smiling gentleman looking down at him, white eyes ablaze.
The power from the gentleman was amazing at first. He could do things he never dreamed of, was faster, stronger than he was before. And most importantly, his mind was sharpened. He could use magic now. It felt good, the raw, invigorating, arcane power running through his veins. Every so often, the gentleman would tell him how to do something else. But as he got used to the power, he began to feel cold more often. It was funny how it didn’t seem to bother him though. Things were different now, but that was okay.
The first thing the gentleman asked him to do was to wipe out the rest of his father's progeny. They were stupid and would only slow down the operation. Father was furious when he found out, but of course, nobody knew who had murdered his other sons in their sleep. Dmitri was out of the question for sure. He was out of town that week. And the new hire was so incompetent he could hardly fight, much less break into two separate homes in the same night and murder two strong men in their sleep. But, the new hire quit the next day. Said he’d had enough. He went back to his tiny shack and dropped the magical disguise, flowing bright red hair dropping to his shoulders. On the table was a letter. It was from a mysterious sender who notified him that the murders had been observed and if he didn’t want to end up on every hit-list in the region, he would do exactly as they said. Ten years of his time, no more, no less. That was what they wanted.
So Dmitri became the servant of two masters, neither fully happily, but certainly dutifully. He left Waterdeep, doing contracts for both patrons for almost a decade, bringing in individuals dead and alive to authorities in cities and towns across the sword coast. Friends he hadn’t seen in a while swore he hadn’t aged a day since they last laid eyes on him. Tattoos became something of a hobby for Dmitri. Something to spend his extra money on. And the gentleman said he had more for Dmitri. Power of which he could only dream.
Preferred Game Speed: A few posts a day, most likely.
Backstory: Dmitri grew up the son of a powerful crime syndicate boss in Waterdeep. He never knew his elven mother and didn't have many actual friends. Both of his older brothers were born of other, human women, so he was ostracized from the outset as different. A half-elf bastard. His bright red hair, which he could have only gotten from his mother, didn't help much either, and he stood out like a sore thumb everywhere he went. At an early age, Dmitri trained with a few of his father's reconnaissance men, bodyguards and the like, learning the art of hunting other people. He began pulling in people who ran from his father at the age of 18, and offered his services to other high-paying patrons. With so much coin so early in life, he began drinking and partying with his so called "friends", who mostly consisted of mediocre university students and other young people, usually involved with the underworld in some way. Life was fun, and Dmitri met a young half-elven woman named Ysolda who took his breath away. She was a budding actress, beautiful, and very talented. She stayed with him for two years, swearing to be true. Until his money ran out. Then, she “forgot” how much she loved him and found another young rich fool to leech off of. Angry and bitter, he worked harder than ever then, but money could only do so much.
He was good at his work, but more often than not now, the quarry he was contracted to catch had abilities that made catching them difficult, sometimes impossible. He failed more than he liked; as determined as he was, he couldn’t always catch them. He needed magic. He had a few friends who studied the arcane, but they had trained their whole lives to reach abilities that were far below the power that he needed to attain to bring down the most elusive and slippery of Waterdeep. So in his free time, he spent hours training and searching for ways to gain magical abilities in a shorter amount of time. The only thing he found during this time was a symbol of an ankh, but any further research seemed useless. Every path to greater power always seemed to include the eastern symbol. After a few months of frustration and fruitless research, he gave up and took a job that, to him at least, seemed way out of his league. The target was an elusive serial murderer and terrorist with the alias “The Red Hand”. They had dispatched countless bounty hunters and reward seekers, and seemed to especially enjoy taking out veteran adventurers and magically broadcasting demands for tribute payments. The bounty was significantly more coin than previous jobs, and he wanted to test himself. To see if he really was as good as father seemed to think he was.
So the hunt began. It was tough at first, but the information Dmitri found eventually led him to a small cliff-side cottage north of the city. After setting a few traps in hidden, strategic locations, throwing knives in hand, he opened the cottage door and quickly took in his surroundings. The first thing that hit him was the smell; bacon and eggs and mushrooms, it was incredible. The interior was well lit from the windows, and he could clearly see a floating spatula expertly flipping an omelette in a simple but tidy little kitchen. A tall, dark-skinned human man with long black hair and a well trimmed beard sat in a comfortable-looking armchair, dressed in formal dark robes. His eyes were pure white, and he was reading a tome of some kind. On the front cover was a large symbol: an ankh. Sitting in another, less comfortable-looking wooden chair was a petite, athletic woman who looked to be struggling against some sort of invisible bonds. Her short, straight hair was pulled up into a ponytail, tucked behind pointed ears, and it was red. Bright red. Dmitri was still crouched, primed, ready to spring into action at the slightest move from either of them. Or the spatula for that matter.
The man looked up from the tome and smiled warmly.
“Ah, perfect timing!”
His deep voice boomed in the small living space.
“Amara, meet your son. He’s been looking for you for quite some time, I imagine…”
He trailed off. Both redheads stood—well, one sat—in stunned silence, looking at each other. The man closed the book, set it on the small table beside him, and Dmitri felt as if the man’s eyes burrowed into his soul. He continued.
“Edwin, I do hope our breakfast is ready soon, I’m simply ravenous.”
A small tilt of his head and the food floated onto two large plates that were positioned on a small table in the kitchen. He looked from the food to Dmitri.
“Oh do come in, Dmitri, I won’t bite.”
A pause, and he glanced in the woman’s direction with a smirk.
“She might though.”
A mug floated toward the man and he sipped from it. Dmitri slowly stalked into the room, still trying to take it all in; the cottage and the new information that is. Not sheathing his weapons, he relaxed his posture somewhat and stood in the doorway. After a moment, Dmitri spoke.
“What’s this about then? Who are you? This is my mother?”
“I am but a simple man who’s discovered a few simple things. Very important things, but simple nonetheless. And yes, yes of course. The Red Hand, murderer extraordinaire. Public enemy number one, and... your dear, sweet mother, who left you with a handsome but completely clueless and incompetent father.”
The woman spat and glared silently at the both of them, her struggling having regained its previous vigor. The man went on.
“I need a servant, Dmitri. I have things to do, big plans to hatch, people to see, bacon and eggs to eat… I can’t be bothered with hunting the bothersome creatures that attempt to undermine my causes. People and things, you understand.”
He stood suddenly and Dmitri’s muscles went to spring but nothing moved. He was powerless to do anything except watch as the man slowly walked toward him, his eyes suddenly replaced by two blazing white flames. Dmitri was cold. As the man got closer, he seemed to suck all the heat from Dmitri’s body. He moved past Dmitri’s face and whispered in his ear, chilling him to the bone.
“You and your mother or going to fight to the death. If you kill her, and serve me, I’ll grant you the power you seek. If she kills you, she’ll get the position, and become the nightmare Waterdeep couldn’t… dream… of.”
He backed away, showing a perfect set of tombstones, and the flames were gone.
“What you do with your power is up to you. I simply ask that you do a few favors for me every once in a while, hmm?”
He sat in the chair.
“Oh yes, and breakfast is waiting for the victor… Well? What are you waiting for? I’ve got all morning, but you don’t.”
The woman rocketed out of the chair and tackled Dmitri. They rolled out the door clawing at each other. The fight felt like it lasted forever. Blurs of red streamed across the beach. Red hair, red knives. Red sand that hadn’t been red before. The traps Dmitri had set did their dirty work well, but not before his own knives were heated by some magic of his mother’s and used against him, searing off the majority of his left hand and much of his left thigh.
Multiple stab wounds, heavy burns, and the much heavier weight of the knowledge that he had killed his mother whom he’d just met all made the short walk back to the cottage excruciatingly painful. He collapsed, face-up, eyes streaming from the physical and emotional pain. The last thing he saw was the smiling gentleman looking down at him, white eyes ablaze.
The power from the gentleman was amazing at first. He could do things he never dreamed of, was faster, stronger than he was before. And most importantly, his mind was sharpened. He could use magic now. It felt good, the raw, invigorating, arcane power running through his veins. Every so often, the gentleman would tell him how to do something else. But as he got used to the power, he began to feel cold more often. It was funny how it didn’t seem to bother him though. Things were different now, but that was okay.
The first thing the gentleman asked him to do was to wipe out the rest of his father's progeny. They were stupid and would only slow down the operation. Father was furious when he found out, but of course, nobody knew who had murdered his other sons in their sleep. Dmitri was out of the question for sure. He was out of town that week. And the new hire was so incompetent he could hardly fight, much less break into two separate homes in the same night and murder two strong men in their sleep. But, the new hire quit the next day. Said he’d had enough. He went back to his tiny shack and dropped the magical disguise, flowing bright red hair dropping to his shoulders. On the table was a letter. It was from a mysterious sender who notified him that the murders had been observed and if he didn’t want to end up on every hit-list in the region, he would do exactly as they said. Ten years of his time, no more, no less. That was what they wanted.
So Dmitri became the servant of two masters, neither fully happily, but certainly dutifully. He left Waterdeep, doing contracts for both patrons for almost a decade, bringing in individuals dead and alive to authorities in cities and towns across the sword coast. Friends he hadn’t seen in a while swore he hadn’t aged a day since they last laid eyes on him. Tattoos became something of a hobby for Dmitri. Something to spend his extra money on. And the gentleman said he had more for Dmitri. Power of which he could only dream.
Last edited:
) A decade of experience with warlock stuff would absolutely be past first level imo.
