Brittain's Imperialism Campaign

THE HEAVEN-BORN (Indian Civil Service)

The gangplank groans under your London boots. Bombay hits like a fever—three weeks of Suez sand still in your teeth, the ink on your commission barely dry. A Parsee boy shoves oranges at your chest, the Customs House clock strikes nine, and somewhere a jackdaw screams. Everything is too bright, too loud, the distances wrong. Your predecessor lasted twelve days. Mr. Cartwright is already checking his watch.

THE REGIMENTAL (Military Commission)

Rawalpindi dust coats your tongue by the time the Colonel finishes his assessment. Three months, he says, before you beg for Simla. The sepoy boots are rags, the well water kills, and the havildar's limp has a story no one will tell you. The Khyber sits invisible beyond the Margalla Hills like a held breath. Somewhere a bugle sounds Mess Call, and the dry heat tastes of flint.

THE BOXWALLAH (Commercial/Plantation)

Welcome to the end of the world. The last factor ran off with fifty rupees and a chowkidar's daughter. Your bungalow is furnished with a dead man's china—he didn't die of moral failure, so the plates are considered lucky. Coolies file past with tea baskets balanced on their heads; convicts break stone in ankle chains. Dinner is at seven. Jacket required. Don't discuss jute prices. Your bearer will steal your cufflinks but save your life come monsoon. Fair exchange, what?

Addtional Images -

I had alot of info i wanted to include but didnt want to make a Lorebook
SOO we will see how well it does.