Three human youths surround a smaller, younger boy. Taunts cry out as he
is pushed from one to the other. "Why don't you go kiss Derrick again? The
guards have told us what you two do together!" Tears run down the dirty
face of the boy, streaking long lines down his cheeks. "It's not my fault!"
He yells out, only increasing the resolve of his tormentors. The pushing
turns violent, and it's not long before his nose is bloodied, with thick
long strands of bloody snot falling to the dirt below. A clinking of armor
is heard, and in the moment when hope was lost, the knowledge that he would
surely be buggered again by one if not all of his bullies having crystalized
in his mind, Derrick arrives.
Slash, Slash, Slash.
The three youths fall to the earth, throats slit by Derrick's quick and
merciless Ranseur.
"Within the city walls of Seringale, Timaran, and Solace you shall find
respite from those who seek to harm you, Kizmit, for not always will I be
about to champion your safety."
A playful brushing of the boy's hair, a peck from his lover, and Derrick
returns to the Temple. Kizmit wipes his face off, gathers his Big ol' Pack
Sack from the side of the old dirt road, and makes the long walk to Solace
to celebrate his birthday alone.
Description:
An effeminite human male sulks here, obviously bored. His slender frame is accented by his height, approaching seven feet tall. His nails are manicured, his eyelashes curled. There is a part of him that seems to fidget before you, eyes looking wantingly towards the exit. His hair is a light, ashen blonde falling in curls to his shoulders tied back with an ivory clasp.