Zbornak seethed. Her normally placid green eyes flashed a vibrant emerald as Sergeant Waters strolled up and down the line of Comm recruits, whistling of all things. Waters had the recruits doing pushups. His exact words were "You're going to push until I'm tired," and then the fat slug laughed. It wasn't the punishment that irked Zbornak so much, she was a large tiefling woman, easily six foot with deep red skin and horns that twisted back from just over the bridge of her nose, giving her a perpetual scowl. It was the fact that this corpulent bag of entrails walked around like he owned the entirety of the Low Docks, despite only having arrived from his Citizen parents' manor two years before. He had never seen action, he had never had to steal food to survive. He had never experienced even a fraction of the hell that was Zbornak's daily life.
Descended, many generations removed, from the Talnine Empire that once ruled the city, Zbornak was a living reminder to all of the atrocities committed during that time, and she was never allowed to forget it. Beaten, abandoned, forced to scrape together a living from kind souls and gullible marks, Zbornak excelled in two things - operating outside of the law and nurturing grudges. Occasionally, she would allow her anger to boil over, but all that succeeded in accomplishing was delaying the inevitable explosion. She didn't necessarily like where her fits of rage left her or the few friends she had, but it was hard to fight it when everything was just so damn unfair.
That whistle. A jaunty Top Shelf tune, it was bright and hopeful. Everything that life in the Low Docks wasn't. Up. Down. Up. Down. Pyotr, to her right, dropped in an exhausted heap to the ground. Still, Zbornak pushed. Ankady, the little blonde human girl who slept across from her in the barracks, collapsed and wept. Still they pushed. Sergeant Waters continued whistling, but he nodded to his non-commissioned officers and gestured to the two recruits who could not continue. They moved in, eager to please the son of a Citizen, particularly one from such a prominent house. Pyotr and Ankady cried out as they were belted back into pushup position, arms trembling with the effort. Zbornak could tolerate no more.
"You disease-ridden, overstuffed piece of worm dung!" Zbornak cried, as she leapt to her feet and threw a punch at the soft Sergeant. Eyes wide, clearly unprepared for such a surprise, Waters' head snapped back as Zbornak threw her massive right fist into and through the bridge of his nose. Blood spurted out across the parade deck as Sergeant Waters flew back a full five feet with the force of the attack. "We're recruits, not playthings for you to exercise your sick power fantasies on!" Waters' two flunkies stared, slack-jawed at the exchange, and then rushed in to corral the upstart. Muscles bulging, she thought briefly about flinging each of them into the sea, but her rage was fading and she knew she was probably in for it as it was - no need to make it worse. She relaxed, resignation hanging heavy on her face - but not before catching appreciative looks from Ankady, Pyotr, and several other recruits in her class. Waters was a prick, no mistake, and he had deserved it - but she knew there'd be consequences for her actions. She only hoped the Comms would focus on her, and not the rest of her company. After all, she was Low Docks. She could take it.
How children of citizens works for both of the upper shelf characters :-)
Zbornak seethed. Her normally placid green eyes flashed a vibrant emerald as Sergeant Waters strolled up and down the line of Comm recruits, whistling of all things. Waters had the recruits doing pushups. His exact words were "You're going to push until I'm tired," and then the fat slug laughed. It wasn't the punishment that irked Zbornak so much, she was a large tiefling woman, easily six foot with deep red skin and horns that twisted back from just over the bridge of her nose, giving her a perpetual scowl. It was the fact that this corpulent bag of entrails walked around like he owned the entirety of the Low Docks, despite only having arrived from his Citizen parents' manor two years before. He had never seen action, he had never had to steal food to survive. He had never experienced even a fraction of the hell that was Zbornak's daily life.
Descended, many generations removed, from the Talnine Empire that once ruled the city, Zbornak was a living reminder to all of the atrocities committed during that time, and she was never allowed to forget it. Beaten, abandoned, forced to scrape together a living from kind souls and gullible marks, Zbornak excelled in two things - operating outside of the law and nurturing grudges. Occasionally, she would allow her anger to boil over, but all that succeeded in accomplishing was delaying the inevitable explosion. She didn't necessarily like where her fits of rage left her or the few friends she had, but it was hard to fight it when everything was just so damn unfair.
That whistle. A jaunty Top Shelf tune, it was bright and hopeful. Everything that life in the Low Docks wasn't. Up. Down. Up. Down. Pyotr, to her right, dropped in an exhausted heap to the ground. Still, Zbornak pushed. Ankady, the little blonde human girl who slept across from her in the barracks, collapsed and wept. Still they pushed. Sergeant Waters continued whistling, but he nodded to his non-commissioned officers and gestured to the two recruits who could not continue. They moved in, eager to please the son of a Citizen, particularly one from such a prominent house. Pyotr and Ankady cried out as they were belted back into pushup position, arms trembling with the effort. Zbornak could tolerate no more.
"You disease-ridden, overstuffed piece of worm dung!" Zbornak cried, as she leapt to her feet and threw a punch at the soft Sergeant. Eyes wide, clearly unprepared for such a surprise, Waters' head snapped back as Zbornak threw her massive right fist into and through the bridge of his nose. Blood spurted out across the parade deck as Sergeant Waters flew back a full five feet with the force of the attack. "We're recruits, not playthings for you to exercise your sick power fantasies on!" Waters' two flunkies stared, slack-jawed at the exchange, and then rushed in to corral the upstart. Muscles bulging, she thought briefly about flinging each of them into the sea, but her rage was fading and she knew she was probably in for it as it was - no need to make it worse. She relaxed, resignation hanging heavy on her face - but not before catching appreciative looks from Ankady, Pyotr, and several other recruits in her class. Waters was a prick, no mistake, and he had deserved it - but she knew there'd be consequences for her actions. She only hoped the Comms would focus on her, and not the rest of her company. After all, she was Low Docks. She could take it.
It’s funny, the last time this campaign was run IRL, one of the PCs was named Pyotr.
Also I will be making my final decisions tonight at 11 Central US time. If you have an idea you’re sitting on please post it soon!