B.T.V. -- Session 05 Interlude: Dragonsblood

Protocol 1784-2u710 is judged wanting. It shall be stricken from the record. In this case, the court finds that revision must be total. Total revision is more rightly called an affidavit. Here then is something of this and more accurate than what Doctor Doom has written in his statement. I have no time for the doctors in any case, this one or the others I have been called upon to judge. The case of Doctor Faustus was a most interesting one. His lessons have been saved.











I was king of beautiful lands that collectively were a kingdom, one called, Sylvania -- the forest lands. In that place kings were called dragons.
It’s a bloody business. My business is an industry of blood.
Blood has special properties. It’s given rightful pride of place in many societies and by many races. I am aware of many of these. I haven’t seen all the races. I haven’t been everywhere but I have been most places. Whether I am an expert on the subject is up to others to judge. I’ve sat in judgement. I’ve been the voice that condemned. Executed those I deemed guilty. Listened to their cries for peace, for dignity, for pity. I’ve sent people to the block, the axe, the stake. You might think to be judgemental of me -- a judge. I am a judge of blood. Remember, or learn for the first time that it has often been said that, 'Blood will tell.' After this, you should judge me only at your peril. Find me wanting and I will not stand in the dock guilty, nor will I stand aside or with head bowed. Judge me and I will deny you and I will throw you over. You will be abject. Do not judge unless you are willing to be judged. I am willing. Are you?
Little wonder there are few people who call me a judge. More call me master. I am not particularly fond of the title but it is accurate for those who use it. They obey me, even when I do not command them. They know my will and see it done. They guess at what I know and want to assist me. There have been times when I had wished for them to be less attentive. They can be zealous. They can be disruptive. They can be wrong. I have few I can rely on. When I offer, I am usually rebuked. I sometimes strike these down. Other times I allow them to vanish into their destined futures. I am not merciful. Those I let depart, serve my legend by believing that they avoided my attention by using special words, or a silvery defence or even that a running river or the rising sun put me off. Nothing of the kind. I let some do this to prevent the useless from coming to me. I need only the sure and the strong.
Master is a title I deserve even as I dislike it. I can do nothing to prevent it being used by others. Some do not call me this. They confer other titles: Lord, Grace, Majesty.
I hate being a king. I am this legally. My birthright makes me a king, as other kings are judged. I believe I have also earned the title of king. Not from the blood born into my veins but from the blood that is borne in my veins now. Those that title me a king do not understand this subtlety. To them it’s just an accident of birth. The right to rule decided by origin. I have proved my worthiness to rule. I am not a child of kings. I am a parent of kings. My blood bears fruits from many trees not just my own.
This mattered to me more in the past. Then it was everything to me. Not only me. Others were kings. They sought to become wealthy, own things, conquer and control. I knew their blood too. Kingsblood is rarely good. It is more often unsavoury. Kings often have a poor vantage and make poor vintage. Too many hard choices. It affects the nature of their life and the blood they return to the world when they pass from it. Kingsblood. Nasty stuff. That’s why I don’t like the title of king. I took a different title to king. I won’t use the orient’s name for it. I am not comfortable with that. I fought against such incursions of the east. I would not be a khan. My people knew this. They called me dragon instead. I could live with this.





In dying, the innocent and guilty give back their blood to the world. Their nature released to mingle once more with the wider world. The body is a vessel. Its role is to fortify the blood through its experience, the way a wine takes on characteristics of the barrels it’s kept in.
Mortality gives the world a chance to reclaim what it has given. I do not take the world to be a bank. It doesn’t invest its gifts in mortals. Loreds granted life. Gods saw it ferment and then sampled it. They knew some to be good. They judged others to be unsavoury. Life -- Blood. Call it what you wish. Lifesblood? Redundant to name it twice, but effective in its reinforcement. The unsavoury exists. A wine no one wants to taste. What to do with this? It must be dealt with. Few would know or care to be part of its disposal. Those that were interested often became drunk on the lifesblood they were meant to deny. The results were tragic each time.
There’s godsblood. Much like kingsblood save for the greater touch of creativity. The ‘divine spark’ isn’t in the gods’ makings, it’s in them. Some bits of the worlds they made might have a larger helping of their makers’ blood and seem blessed but it’s not true. The godsblood always returns to its own. Faneblood, ‘Qysblood, all the others; bloods of a colour, bloods of a type. In their dying moments these bloods spill their hosts’ secrets back into the world and inform it... Or not. What if in death, the bloods simply seep away? The experiences lost? Is the world left the poorer for this, or worse changed irrevocably and turned away from where it should arrive? A certain balance might be maintained. The deaths of one aspect mitigated by the deaths of another. Equilibrium and stasis. The runic staff and its cosmic scales set to level. If you believe in such gaining the upper hand. I do not.
There is every chance that more blood will be spilled by one aspect than another. More blood lost from one than the rest. One left more intact than all others. No middle ground in this case. The efforts of the losing side, pathetic and destined for loss. Should this blood belong to Humanity, we would perish.
Those Final Men who understand death best are charged with seeing this doesn’t happen. Some are executioners. They defy any who act out of accord with Lored Mann’s thoughts. They spill blood with large blades. Others are assassins. A group of men who follow a credo -- 'Nothing is true; Everything is permitted'. In their numbers they become a jury. Twelve men good and false. They can find anyone innocent or guilty. They serve justice on the living in bringing death. It can be a loud business or a quiet business but it is always bloody business. They follow the Solitaire of Men, Absolom. ‘Follow’ might be a strong word but their following his manner is beyond debate. Assassins can’t be trusted except to select death for those they determine are lacking.
Both these groups the Seneschals and the Lethality, see death as a completion and an end in itself. It is in many ways but the blood they spill is gone from the world. Lessons learned lost, especially important lessons those judged wanting might have seen.
I am another third of this whole. I founded a group of men dedicated to understanding those who are deserving of death as well. Each of mine become a judge. Like me, they select those whose blood, whatever its kind, should be saved. They need not be guilty. They might be innocents. That is not important. What matters is that what they know is not lost as these have been judged by us to be fated to die. Their blood must be salvaged for a future, none not even I, can expect to know. Call us collectors, call us saviours, call us immoral, call us deviant. All are true hits on the target. Not perfect strikes but more accurate than most. Those I founded are the Vampires.
I need to bolster our number. We have always been few. Victims of our own success and a natural distrust that others have for those who understand death so readily. In embracing the gifts I bestowed, my followers have been hounded for their command of the night, the strengths of our Lored and the dedication they have shown for a time yet to be. Few choose to understand me and mine, preferring to let their fears rule their hearts. Fears placed within that chamber most associated with blood by our enemies. The dragons have done this to men — made them terrified of seeing their destiny. Setting them on false trails. Setting us against one another. I will not be swayed on this judgement. Some have tried to deter me. Their blood is now within me. I needed to save their learning as they insisted upon death. I will hold these memories until they can be brought forth again.
You may wonder that I can know all this as certainly as I do. Perhaps, it takes a dragon to know another dragon’s intentions. Perhaps, only a dragon can judge a dragon.

I was king of beautiful lands that collectively were a kingdom, one called, Sylvania -- the forest lands, in my language. In that place kings were called dragons. This is your tongue. In Sylvanian, dragon translates as, Dracul.