For some of you, service in the Comms was the first taste of life on the Top Shelf. While the Barracks were not considered by many to be part of the city proper, it was still worlds away from life on the Docks. For one thing, the smell of fish has been replaced by the scents of industry, which some might say was an improvement. During the occasional trips into the city proper, you would notice how different everyone was, almost like the Docks had some drabby uniform code that was put in place so no one could stand out; it wasn’t even that hard to believe.
For those of you who had come from the Top Shelf, life in the Barracks was definitely a downgrade. The same sloppy meals three times a day, rigorous and strict drills that left you aching all night, and being so close yet so far to home could be painful at times.
But all that was about to change. You have successfully survived your first year of training, and you will be promoted from recruits to privates. You will also be assigned to your Regiment. While the people in charge would take your preferences into consideration, especially if your skill set aligns with them, your fate is ultimately in their hands.
You woke up this morning like any other, to the sound of trumpeting and with aching backs caused by inferior beds. Every one of your peers is excitedly talking about their ideal assignments, but something is a bit different for you.
You each notice an envelope on your foot locker as you get ready for the day, sealed with the official seal of the Comms, which depict a phoenix, similar to the one you wear on your uniforms.
On the front of your envelope it says your name, instructing you to “open immediately.”
Doing as you were told, you break the seal, and read the letter enclosed.
“Recruit, meet me in my office immediately after breakfast for your next orders. Failure to appear will be considered a blatant disregard for a superior’s orders and will be dealt with as such. - Sgt. Waters”
Looking around, you notice that several others have received a letter as well; six of you in total. What do the others see when they look at you?
Zozzie had found the last year of training more difficult than he expected. This was perhaps a shared view as no one is ever truly prepared for what entering into military service will hold. Regardless of any preparatory school or militia style training one might have prior to entering, the real deal was hard for everyone at one point or another.
The greatest thing that comes out of adversity though, is team building. Boy, did Sergeant Waters know how to build a team…he was the adversary, er/uhm adversity that is.
Zozzie quickly reread the note, “Immediately after breakfast…” He had to remind himself to breathe, and the breath cleared his head as any visible tension left with the exhale.
”Hey, guys…” The elf said in a low voice as he tried to get the others’ attentions discretely, holding up his letter, “Did you get a letter from home as well?” He didn’t want anyone else in the barracks to know right away that he was being called to Sgt Water’s office. Zozzie already felt like he received more favorable treatment from the cadre than the others, not that he would call any treatment from Sgt Waters favorable.
Cadence lifts the envelope from his footlocker, the morning light catching the sharp angles of his face and the tousled blonde hair. His blue eyes narrow slightly as a harsh, off-key trumpet squeals from somewhere outside, each note grating on his ears. He suppresses a sigh, letting his bag gently settle onto the floor, thinking that whoever is responsible clearly needs lessons, and that perhaps he will be adding a trumpet to his instrumentarium. He breaks the seal with practiced ease, his fingers moving with the grace only a musician would have. At his feet, his bag halfway opened shows a tucked-away flute and the edges of his lyre. Cadence stands tall, his lean frame accentuated by the crisp lines of his Comms uniform, and his posture carries a subtle confidence that sets him apart from the other recruits. After reading the letter, Cadence folds it and places it into his back pocket. Looking at Zozzie, he responds with a cheerful smile, “Not sure what kind of family you’ve got, but the one that sent me this letter isn’t the kind to keep waiting!” Decided to skip his breakfast, he begins walking towards Waters’ office, not wanting to upset the irritable man by being late. Along the way, he pulls out his lyre and hums an impromptu tune as the instrument emits a peaceful melody.
Breora's body tensed up at the sight of the letter and her face froze. Her long black hair shielded her reaction from the view of the others. Had someone discovered what she was truly doing here? She looked around for someone watching her reaction before noticing others had received the letter too. She relaxed. This had to be something else. She opened the letter, and was disappointed at what she read. A private meeting with the Sargent. Whoopee.
She walked to where she saw the others begin to congregate. She listened to the other two, and felt her blood begin to boil at the mention of family. She thought back to the night Yarmo was taken, and she almost forgot where she was. But she managed to calm herself, remembering that these people couldn't know about what happened. "Certainly not a man I'd want to be related to." She decided to eat breakfast, as she felt it was a bad idea to try and listen to Waters on an empty stomach. Though, she did appreciate the tune the bard played as it reminded her of her friend Stiona who had played the lyre too.
As Zyrelle looks at the letter in her hand, the other see the familar sight of a very tall (6'4") and veru slim (only 160 lb) young woman, with dark brown hair and green eyes that seem to glow (and from past experience, they actually do). She's wearing same fine robes and pointed hat she was entering when she entered (a gift from her parents), with her overly fancy staff (another gift). The white owl sitting on her shoulder was also looking at the letter.
Zyrelle reflect on the past year. She had been warned by her parents, so she had expected some hardship, but the reality was even worse. But she had to admit that the training had been effective. While still shy with strangers, she was no longer shy with the other cadets, they had been though too much together, had worked together too long for Zyrelle to be reserved in talking with them.
Guessing that Cadence had gotten the same letter based on her comments, Zyrelle said, "I think you should have breakfast first Cadence. Sargent Waters is likely to get mad if you show up early. He might have you doing pushups while waiting for the rest of us. Though eating quickly so we can be at his door when the bell rings that marks the end of breakfast. He's summoned me as well, what about the rest of you?"
For some of you, service in the Comms was the first taste of life on the Top Shelf. While the Barracks were not considered by many to be part of the city proper, it was still worlds away from life on the Docks. For one thing, the smell of fish has been replaced by the scents of industry, which some might say was an improvement. During the occasional trips into the city proper, you would notice how different everyone was, almost like the Docks had some drabby uniform code that was put in place so no one could stand out; it wasn’t even that hard to believe.
For those of you who had come from the Top Shelf, life in the Barracks was definitely a downgrade. The same sloppy meals three times a day, rigorous and strict drills that left you aching all night, and being so close yet so far to home could be painful at times.
But all that was about to change. You have successfully survived your first year of training, and you will be promoted from recruits to privates. You will also be assigned to your Regiment. While the people in charge would take your preferences into consideration, especially if your skill set aligns with them, your fate is ultimately in their hands.
You woke up this morning like any other, to the sound of trumpeting and with aching backs caused by inferior beds. Every one of your peers is excitedly talking about their ideal assignments, but something is a bit different for you.
You each notice an envelope on your foot locker as you get ready for the day, sealed with the official seal of the Comms, which depict a phoenix, similar to the one you wear on your uniforms.
On the front of your envelope it says your name, instructing you to “open immediately.”
Doing as you were told, you break the seal, and read the letter enclosed.
“Recruit, meet me in my office immediately after breakfast for your next orders. Failure to appear will be considered a blatant disregard for a superior’s orders and will be dealt with as such. - Sgt. Waters”
Looking around, you notice that several others have received a letter as well; six of you in total. What do the others see when they look at you?
Zozzie had found the last year of training more difficult than he expected. This was perhaps a shared view as no one is ever truly prepared for what entering into military service will hold. Regardless of any preparatory school or militia style training one might have prior to entering, the real deal was hard for everyone at one point or another.
The greatest thing that comes out of adversity though, is team building. Boy, did Sergeant Waters know how to build a team…he was the adversary, er/uhm adversity that is.
Zozzie quickly reread the note, “Immediately after breakfast…” He had to remind himself to breathe, and the breath cleared his head as any visible tension left with the exhale.
”Hey, guys…” The elf said in a low voice as he tried to get the others’ attentions discretely, holding up his letter, “Did you get a letter from home as well?” He didn’t want anyone else in the barracks to know right away that he was being called to Sgt Water’s office. Zozzie already felt like he received more favorable treatment from the cadre than the others, not that he would call any treatment from Sgt Waters favorable.
Cadence lifts the envelope from his footlocker, the morning light catching the sharp angles of his face and the tousled blonde hair. His blue eyes narrow slightly as a harsh, off-key trumpet squeals from somewhere outside, each note grating on his ears. He suppresses a sigh, letting his bag gently settle onto the floor, thinking that whoever is responsible clearly needs lessons, and that perhaps he will be adding a trumpet to his instrumentarium.
He breaks the seal with practiced ease, his fingers moving with the grace only a musician would have. At his feet, his bag halfway opened shows a tucked-away flute and the edges of his lyre. Cadence stands tall, his lean frame accentuated by the crisp lines of his Comms uniform, and his posture carries a subtle confidence that sets him apart from the other recruits.
After reading the letter, Cadence folds it and places it into his back pocket. Looking at Zozzie, he responds with a cheerful smile, “Not sure what kind of family you’ve got, but the one that sent me this letter isn’t the kind to keep waiting!”
Decided to skip his breakfast, he begins walking towards Waters’ office, not wanting to upset the irritable man by being late. Along the way, he pulls out his lyre and hums an impromptu tune as the instrument emits a peaceful melody.
Breora's body tensed up at the sight of the letter and her face froze. Her long black hair shielded her reaction from the view of the others. Had someone discovered what she was truly doing here? She looked around for someone watching her reaction before noticing others had received the letter too. She relaxed. This had to be something else. She opened the letter, and was disappointed at what she read. A private meeting with the Sargent. Whoopee.
She walked to where she saw the others begin to congregate. She listened to the other two, and felt her blood begin to boil at the mention of family. She thought back to the night Yarmo was taken, and she almost forgot where she was. But she managed to calm herself, remembering that these people couldn't know about what happened. "Certainly not a man I'd want to be related to." She decided to eat breakfast, as she felt it was a bad idea to try and listen to Waters on an empty stomach. Though, she did appreciate the tune the bard played as it reminded her of her friend Stiona who had played the lyre too.
As Zyrelle looks at the letter in her hand, the other see the familar sight of a very tall (6'4") and veru slim (only 160 lb) young woman, with dark brown hair and green eyes that seem to glow (and from past experience, they actually do). She's wearing same fine robes and pointed hat she was entering when she entered (a gift from her parents), with her overly fancy staff (another gift). The white owl sitting on her shoulder was also looking at the letter.
Zyrelle reflect on the past year. She had been warned by her parents, so she had expected some hardship, but the reality was even worse. But she had to admit that the training had been effective. While still shy with strangers, she was no longer shy with the other cadets, they had been though too much together, had worked together too long for Zyrelle to be reserved in talking with them.
Guessing that Cadence had gotten the same letter based on her comments, Zyrelle said, "I think you should have breakfast first Cadence. Sargent Waters is likely to get mad if you show up early. He might have you doing pushups while waiting for the rest of us. Though eating quickly so we can be at his door when the bell rings that marks the end of breakfast. He's summoned me as well, what about the rest of you?"
The mention of push ups disrupts Cadence’s internal symphony. Pausing, he reconsiders.
”You are absolutely correct Zyrelle. Arriving too early could be just as bad as arriving late. Let us go break our fast as instructed in the letter.”
He raises the lyre again and resumes his playing, gently playing.
“perhaps we can go find that dreadful trumpet player also. An instrument like that belongs in the hands someone who will take care of it.”