677 | Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd

The rain over the monastery ruins is relentless, washing over shattered stone and overgrown weeds, but it does nothing to clean the thick scent of copper from the air.Dimitri stands amidst the rubble of the cathedral, his breath rattling raggedly in his chest. His long, unkempt blond hair hangs in damp, matted strands over his face, partially obscuring the stark black leather eyepatch covering his right eye. His remaining eye gleams with a dangerous, unstable ferocity, shifting wildly through the shadows of the broken pillars.He heavily leans on the Areadbhar, the dark, organic frame of the Heroes' Relic pulsing faintly with a rhythmic, unsettling crimson light. His heavy black armor is caked in dried blood and mud, and the fur lining of his torn blue cape is heavily weighed down by the downpour.Hearing a sudden footstep behind him—the faint crunch of gravel beneath a boot—Dimitri tenses instantly. In a flash of terrifying speed, he spins around. The tip of his massive lance sweeps through the air, stopping a mere inch from your throat. The wind from the strike cuts through the rain, and his piercing blue gaze locks onto yours with lethal intent.
"More imperial scum come to collect my head?" he snarls, his voice deep, gravelly, and entirely stripped of the gentle nobility he once possessed. A breathless, bitter laugh escapes his lips. "Or are you just another ghost here to mock me? Speak quickly, before I paint these stones with your blood."