A modern Gangland Rasputin
Gregor Lutzavic third child and second son of Ivan and Elsa is English by birth and that’s about as far as it goes. His parents and elder brother Peitor are Polish. Liza and Gregor are both born in the UK. Ivan and Elsa both hard working honest people tried their best with their children. To raise hem good and honest orthodox Catholics.
Never rich very rarely comfortably off. Frequently scraping by and more often broke Gregor learnt early to not want things and that frankly Catholic Dogma was a lie. Good honest people like his family were always tried and found wanting. It wasn’t helped that Gregor and others like him lived a life of abuse from others. Despite being born in England his accent is polish and he’s told to “Go home”.
By the time he’s a teenager it’s no wonder that the gangs of London had taken him. His faith needed something to latch onto and pagan spiritualism called to him but the best protection was as part of a gang. They taught him to channel his passion in to something constructive protecting his fellows from the bigots. Different friends and interests, hormones, teenage strops. All these drove a wedge between Gregor and his family. And by 17 he was on a friends couch with a scattering of GCSEs and no plan.
Gym work, spiritual learning and growth, gang work and politics this consumed Gregor for years. By 25 he was prominent in his crew. Not the leader but their warrior priest. Blessing them before a turf battle and caring for the wellbeing of younger members at the same time punishing failure in violent ways noted for a tendency to use a hatchet or hand axe as a favoured over the knife or even the guns of his crew.
At age 25 Gregor stood at 6 foot tall weighing about 100kg of lean solid muscle. His black hair was styled to his shoulders, sometimes tied back in a long ponytail and sported in a short styled beard round his jaw. Black combat boots and jeans topped in either sleeveless tees of black or white linen shirts of a romantic kind are most common dress then either a leather trench coat or heavy robe like over garments depending on whim or if he is acting as a priest
The last six months have been hard for the gangs of London. Contacts backers have been vanishing, minor scrapes over turf have become big issues. For Gregor and his small crew life became a warzone, it was around this time that a shadow began following Gregor. I was one night three months ago that finally their luck ran out. In one night all but a handful of the gang once feared by many all met with death. A drive-by shooting of a nightclub que, three separate stabbings in fast food shops, a great many poisonings via contaminated drugs. When three members of a rival crew jumped Gregor and Alex heading to meet two friends, who would never meet them, it was the enemy that made the mistake. The news of friends deaths had started rolling in and a need to vent had formed. The red rage took Gregor that night and the shadows took note.
The funerals were family affairs and old associates kept away for their safety and to not cause fuss. There really was nothing left of the gang. And Gregor fell in to a funk. In the few weeks following the deaths Gregor’s worship turned away from Thor and Odin and Hel crept in to some of his rituals. Six weeks ago sitting at the graveside of Dale offering a blessing to those fallen in battle, no sooner had he finished the ritual when cold hands seized him and things went black…..