Victor Popescu's page

The Popescus have always been fishermen and sailors. They just never sailed very far. Victor would like to change that.
He got into performance combat because what he really wants to do is *act.* (He’s just way better at fighting.)
His reputation is more about his durability than his talent or strength.
Self-loathingly down on Magnimar and Varisia/Varisians in general.
Looks like an ugly brute, but has the heart of a (bad) poet.

Visit faraway lands
Acquire “fans.”

He quit the fights and won small notoriety by NOT taking a fall when he was supposed to ...but he actually won by accident and had decided to take the fall.
His brother is still alive.

Mama: Popescu’s mother still lives in their old hut near the sea. She is rather elderly but hasn’t fallen prey to age ...yet.
Petar: Popescu’s intelligent, artistic younger brother, who he mistreated out of jealousy but defended from any other mistreatment, thought dead, but secretly given away when they didn’t think he could earn his keep.
Teodora: Pupescu’s sister, Petar’s intellect mixed with Victor’s athletic ability. Takes care of Mama but has her own kids as well.
Moussa Kaba: A Mwangi fisherman Popescu enjoys a quiet friendship with

Enemies:
Well, the Sczarni aren’t too pleased with him right now. Specifically a local lieutenant named Ionescu, who oversaw most of the bookies for the fights and got demoted when Popescu won. His lead enforcer, a pale Ustalavian named Niculescu, is rumored to not be quite human. A Chelish woman named Giovata Scipio took Ionescu’s place and may have had something to do with the accidental win.
“Big” Brutus Taurus, the fighter he was supposed to lose to lost more than his dignity that night.

Memory One:
Long time past. I was working under Papa already, Petar still at home doing ...whatever it was he did. Readin or writin or some such, no doubt. Waters was rough on that day, as they sometimes are. Ropes bit hard, and like a true fool I’d forgot my gloves so by time we got back, m’hands were stung with blood and salt. We come in and Petar up and runs right at me, like he did, back in such times. I ain’t even got to wash up yet and he’s shovin some fool scribblin in my face. I snatch it away and look at it. It’s a drawin, and I can actually tell what it is about. It’s me and Petar, holdin hands with a big heart-shape (not how a man’s heart looks for real, I found out). I’m just starin at it and how he even got my big ugly nose right, but not like he was teasin me. And I guess it’s the day out and the waters and the hands and all such, whatever, I start shakin a bit. I look down where my hands is holdin the picture and I see my stupid bloody hands got blood all over it. My face got hot and I ripped up the picture. “Useless s@*$!” I said. I got punished for sayin the cuss, but not the rest. All that night in the closet I tried to draw us but my hands ain’t no good for such.

Memory 2
Earlier that day some jackass called Petar a name and spat at him. He broke my nose but I broke his arm. Petar said this time the nosebreak might put it back where it was originally, but truth is, even then I couldn’t remember what that looked like. “Take me sailing,” he said. I figured he was just tryin to make me feel better and that made me feel ashamed. I called him the same stupid name and pushed him away. “Where are you going?” he asked, still not mad, gods damn him. I said some more choice words what I won’t repeat here and he stayed there near the boats. Never saw him again.

Memory 3
I’d always wondered what it’d be like, how hard it would be, how hard I’d fight: gettin asked to take a fall. You fight in these pits, it’s more of a “when” than an “if.” You hear the stories of the guys that refuse with a mix of admiration and contempt. But I’ll be damned if I’ve met anyone who actually knows one. I was relieved a bit when it ended up bein’ easy. I needed the money, Mama deserved her money, and it ain’t like this ugly mug can get much attention from women without payin. Didn’t need no time to consider, yeah, I’ll take the fall, yes sir, sure.

And I was gonna, I really was. I even got to do some pretendin ...like Petar and me used to back then when makin up who you were was what you did for fun. I was a guy who drank too much before a big fight, got scared, you know, needed that liquid courage. Walked all wobbly, dumb(er) look on my mug, you can picture it.

I was fighting “Big” Brutus Taurus, and even if you never seen him fight, I bet you got a picture in your head pretty damn close to reality. I honestly wasn’t sure I’d even have to throw it, guy was so big. Well, I’m pretendin--supposed to call it actin but that don’t feel right--and throwin bad punches and such but I guess I’m thinkin more about the pretendin than the fightin and next thing I know Big Brutus is down at my feet, sleepin better’n I ever have. The crowd lost their minds, and it was one of the best things I ever felt, to tell it true. But that feelin got interrupted by the growin feelin of “I done f*%&ed up bad this time.” It was time for a new line of work, and, if possible, to get far as hell away from the damned Sczarni.

Victor is incredibly terrified of injury to eyes (especially his own).