Hey there, welcome. Today a not so friendly roleplay. Its accurately titled so if you don't like the title or what it may represent. Don't read it. Despite the harsh and nasty scene described, I hope it adds a certain aspect of life we should not forget nor suppress. It happens so we must deal with it. It is fleshing out the character and giving the other players a sense of what kind of person Astros is.
Outburst
Snuffling and snorting Astros made his way through the baggage train's food wagon. A thin shouldered quartermaster fearfully eyeing the grasping hands of the towering man. Greedily taking a jar of honey, a string of sausages and then the the beastly eyes returned to meet his own. ''Where's the bread?'' The smaller man gulped. ''Where damn it!'' White teeth flashed as Astros wagged the string of sausages at the lesser man. The quartermaster found his voice. ''Behind the casket of vinegar.'' he chirped meekly like a songbird poked. A grunt was the reply he received but more importantly the attention of the abrasive Astros had departed him. To be fixed once more on the food and indeed a large hand pushed aside the casket of vinegar and took possession of a loaf of spiced and seed covered bread.
As Astros turned away from the wagon the quartermaster darted in to check the damage but as he tried, it irked Astros. A fist clutching the honey jar swept in and slammed the lesser official in the temple. Reeling to the right the quartermaster instinctively reached for his face with his hands, trying to prevent further damage. ''Gnat! Who gave you the impression I was done?!'' More blows rained. The jar wielded like a weapon. Bashing several times more onto the quartermaster's face. Shattering his nose which caused blood to splatter the front of the wagon and then a blow to his ear made all sound fade but a high pitch screech. Endurance fleeing his body the quartermaster fell to the dirt. A hand bracing against a clod of dirt sporting a tiny tuft of grass. Slowly crushed under the weight of both men. One holding on and the other viciously dishing out a beating. Sausages dangled haphazardly from Astros's thick neck.
Finding the little man out of arm's reach, boots took over where hands couldn't reach. Kicking the huddled shape against the wheels of the wagon. ''Never! Presume I am done before I say so!'' Another kick to the ribs. ''Got it?!'' The words spoken much akin to a dragon breathing fire onto a peaceful village. Through blood caked, broken lips. ''Yeeesss..'' A hoarse sound followed. ''Yes, sir..! Never again!'' the quartermaster managed. Half of his face covered in dirt as he just lay there miserably.
Astros stepped back and rubbed his large hand over the side of his face. Noticing some beats of sweat that he quickly wiped away. ''Good. Now clean yourself up you worthless goat arse.'' Flicking the sweat onto the quartermaster as he turned about and walked off.
