Bruise
The guard in Neverwinter is a great employer for anyone willing to hold an axe and walk around looking threatening. they pay pretty well too. mostly they pay to keep the peace or even solve the occasional crime. A lot of the time though, the guard gets paid to not solve a crime.
Bruise never liked the last part, but when you got a pair of dice in your pocket and a bunch of bad luck on the table, there isn't much a man can do.
So Bruise kept his head down and worked hard to pay off those debts. But sometimes, there's this thing that so blindingly, infuriatingly obvious, that's impossible to ignore. Like the sigil of a mercenary guild, glimpsed on a slip of paper some superior officer dropped.
When Bruise starts digging, it's hard to stop him. Bruise uses his trusty axe to dig his way through some of the lower levels of the local scum and merc. The Zhentarim are not impressed at all. Any normal outfit might have just thrown more bodies at the annoying cop and hope he gets tired. Not the Zhentarim. They're smart.
The Zhentarim have been walking around the shadows of the Wintershields for a long time. They know exactly who Bruise is, better than he does himself. They knew Bruise' granddad, when he came to Neverwinter from Icewind Dale, forced to the city by hunger and hardship. They had working on him then and they'll work on him now.
A barbarian's rage isn't just one big bomb of blind anger. Rage has a recipient, a path. It's a path like a boulder leaves rolling down a mountain, leaving behind bodies like snapped trees. With enough careful planning, a rushing river can be redirected with a few pebbles thrown in the right bend.
That pebble was firmly in the Zhentarim's hands. This pebble had the shape of a traditional headdress of the Tribe of the Elk, the tribe that Bruise' ancestors belonged to. All the Zhentarim had to do was cover it up a bit, find any merc in the barbarian's path crazy enough to wear it and wait.
So when Bruise looked around the room of a slaver, stepping over the bodies, trying to find clues for his next target, he was in for quite a surprise.
You see, the Tribe of the Elk have this particular idea about killing one of their own. Especially about killing a shaman of their own. Whenever that happens, the waters in the river of rage turn a darker red than ever. The stone must roll, until it has been worn down to sand. Thus, Bruise was set on the Path of the Berserker, a path of rage in pure service of his people, all people.
Now Bruise must rage, rage for redemption of a crime he did not commit, regardless of where his Path will lead him.
Bruise never liked the last part, but when you got a pair of dice in your pocket and a bunch of bad luck on the table, there isn't much a man can do.
So Bruise kept his head down and worked hard to pay off those debts. But sometimes, there's this thing that so blindingly, infuriatingly obvious, that's impossible to ignore. Like the sigil of a mercenary guild, glimpsed on a slip of paper some superior officer dropped.
When Bruise starts digging, it's hard to stop him. Bruise uses his trusty axe to dig his way through some of the lower levels of the local scum and merc. The Zhentarim are not impressed at all. Any normal outfit might have just thrown more bodies at the annoying cop and hope he gets tired. Not the Zhentarim. They're smart.
The Zhentarim have been walking around the shadows of the Wintershields for a long time. They know exactly who Bruise is, better than he does himself. They knew Bruise' granddad, when he came to Neverwinter from Icewind Dale, forced to the city by hunger and hardship. They had working on him then and they'll work on him now.
A barbarian's rage isn't just one big bomb of blind anger. Rage has a recipient, a path. It's a path like a boulder leaves rolling down a mountain, leaving behind bodies like snapped trees. With enough careful planning, a rushing river can be redirected with a few pebbles thrown in the right bend.
That pebble was firmly in the Zhentarim's hands. This pebble had the shape of a traditional headdress of the Tribe of the Elk, the tribe that Bruise' ancestors belonged to. All the Zhentarim had to do was cover it up a bit, find any merc in the barbarian's path crazy enough to wear it and wait.
So when Bruise looked around the room of a slaver, stepping over the bodies, trying to find clues for his next target, he was in for quite a surprise.
You see, the Tribe of the Elk have this particular idea about killing one of their own. Especially about killing a shaman of their own. Whenever that happens, the waters in the river of rage turn a darker red than ever. The stone must roll, until it has been worn down to sand. Thus, Bruise was set on the Path of the Berserker, a path of rage in pure service of his people, all people.
Now Bruise must rage, rage for redemption of a crime he did not commit, regardless of where his Path will lead him.
Species
Children
Sex
Male
Gender
Man
Presentation
Masculine
Please support us if you like the content! Your contribution is much appreciated and goes towards building community and creating more content: Support Us!
Comments