Closed [Guest ST] A Guardsman's Request (Pulren)

[Orin Fenix]

Word spread like wildfire among the mercenaries at the headquarters that Tyler was about to take to the mats with a newcomer. His skill with his blades and his bow was legendary and although he was taking down his wooden practice weapons and not his steel longswords, weighted with lead to actually be heavier than his ordinary blades, there was still a buzz of excitement. He rarely sparred with the common men, preferring to work on his form in a private room with a few other exceptional swordsman. The only times they saw him in their training rooms was on the rare occasions when he was instructing them on various techniques. Often, his workload kept him too busy for even that. So this was a rare treat for the men and women on duty and those lounging about waiting for their assignment. The administrators and warriors loitering about began to gather as Tyler buckled on leather padding. As he slowly slid into the first of his warmup forms, they whispered furiously to each other. A few coins even passed from hand to hand as bets were placed. They weren’t betting on the victor of this particular match. That they knew. It had been a long time since Tyler had been bested by anyone. So there was absolutely no chance that someone they’d never heard of would win a fight with their peerless leader. Anyone who could defeat him would’ve immediately been recognized, as their fame would practically guarantee they would be known by the members of the Martial Society. So no, they weren’t betting on the likelihood of Pulren’s victory. Instead, they were betting on how long Pulren would last against Tyler, and how badly Tyler would trounce the upstart who dared to face him in combat. Usually, Tyler avoided permanent damage but he wasn’t above sending a partner away limping if he thought the wound was merited and if he felt there needed to be a lesson taught. Tyler turned a blind eye to the proceedings around him, focusing instead on the wood in his hands as it flashed through the air to strike imaginary opponents. Gambling was frowned upon by the upper management but they recognized it as a necessary evil and so mostly it went ignored as long as it was kept to manageable levels. There was quite a crowd surrounding the room at this point, and when Tyler finally brought Pulren down from upstairs, they would make no effort to conceal their presence. And Pulren couldn’t fail to notice the amused, albeit good-natured gleam in their eyes as he walked through the halls. ---------- While he was still in the room, Tyler took careful note of Pulren’s responses. He schooled his face into motionlessness, not wanting to let the former Wave Guard get even the barest hint of his thoughts. When Pulren finally brought himself to answer the last question, Tyler nodded once, quickly, before departing without a word and leaving the room to the chief wizard. At Pulren’s crude remark Delia sighed. ”For the record, Master Marsh, your behavior is not nearly as cute as you think it is. You haven’t earned the right to be fresh with me, and I would appreciate it if you could find it in yourself to keep a civil tongue in your head. There’s no need for vulgarity.” Her voice took on a particular stern and arch tone as she went on. ”While the women you may have encountered in the past might have enjoyed your remarks, I’d remind you that as a representative of the Martial Society we would expect nothing but the most impeccable manners from you. We can’t afford to be seen as simple thugs. The damage it would do to our reputation would be catastrophic.” She’d apparently been saddled with a particular slow learner this time around. While she had more experience working with pupils who weren’t bright, it didn’t make it any less of an onerous chore. Even though she’d demonstrated the folly of trusting a woman just because she was pretty, this Pulren still couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her. So she stretched, deliberately pulling her gown against her admittedly well endowed chest. She was testing both his ability to improve after his mistakes and his concentration. If he got distracted by her actions she would be severely displeased and would make that known in no uncertain light. When the man revealed he could only create Earth, Delia tsked softly, and shook her head sadly. ”It seems I must start with the very basics then. Attend.” She put her hands on her hips and assumed her most matronly position. ”Reimancy is the art of creating elements from your Djed. That much you already seem to know. While we don’t have the time, nor do I have the inclination to instruct you in the various theories of Djed, know that it is an essential part of you, as much as your body and your mind. So we have to be careful how much and when we use it.” Delia paused, and her voice grew quieter and more somber as her thoughts turned inward. ”I believe you’ve seen the results firsthand of what happens when mages let themselves run rampant. It’s called overgiving and we must avoid it at all costs. So never overreach yourself. And save your magic for a last resort.” She herself walked a careful balance between overuse and failing to use it in times of need. However, unlike many of her predecessors she’d managed to keep the whispers of power at bay. Continuing she explained some of the most central tenets of Reimancy. ”Reimancy allows the mage to create and control Earth, Water, Wind, and Fire. While currently you can only master the element of earth, as time passes and your mastery grows you will discover for yourself how to access the other elements. And, if you get advanced enough in your studies, you can actually manage para-elements, combinations of the four main elements.” She examined her nails as she stopped to let all the information she’d just dumped on him sink in. ”We won’t get into any more details currently. The only other thing you need to know is that Reimancers can also use their Res to attract elements from the natural environemnt that correspond to the elements you have command of. You, for instance, could presumably pick up dirt or earth from the ground although I would recommend against that at present.” Her lecture over, Delia settled back to watch Pulren perform the task she’d set him. After what seemed like ages in her mind, Pulren sweating all the while, the green ooze that was his Res finally appeared on his palms and slowly coalesced into a stone sphere. Taking the stone from his hands, Delia held it up and examined it, and Pulren, briefly with her Auristics. She’d been planning to ask him for a second trial but her senses, both magical and mundane told him that he was obviously spent. ”I suppose that will have to do for now. Again, we want to avoid overgiving effects. However, if you do get the opportunity to work with the Martial Society, I want you to practice producing Res from different parts of your body until you can make it from anywhere during practically any circumstances.” Crossing her arms against her chest she hammered her last point home. ”I’m trusting you to know when you’ve recovered. Learning your limits is probably going to be your hardest task as a newcomer to the arcane.” Letting his posture slide into a softer stance, she placed one hand on the desk and traced a pattern. ”Do you have any questions for me?” Perhaps he’d display an unusual amount of insight, although Delia didn’t think it likely. --- Once Tyler was sure that Delia had finished with their latest recruit, he swung the door open and strode inside. His wooden swords were belted on both hips, and he carried a wooden trident in his hands. Tossing it at Pulren, Tyler turned on his heels and marched out again, throwing a quick, ”follow me,” over his shoulder as he went back downstairs and made his way to the training area. Pulren was about to discover exactly how thorough his interview was really going to be.

[Pulren Marsh]

First he had taken a literal beating by Delia, his arm stinging from the 'attention grabber'. It had grabbed it alright. Then she accused him of staring at her chest, which she was clearly making the view of the day. More talk about how he represented the Society and he would learn taste and discretion over thuggery. It sounded great, but was this the way to go about it? he made sure to keep his eyes on hers for the rest of the lesson. No more accusations of lechery would come, at least.

A long and interesting lecture came from his good behavior. She told him about many of the aspects of Reimancy and how to use it. When to use it seemed an important point too. He would never want to become a maniac like those bastards in the Bay. While his attempt had been successful, it was apparently a mediocre effort. He wondered about those who were natural at magic and if it was easier for them. It made sense. They practiced. He wondered how many of these people could beat him in a swimming race. The thought brought a slight smirk to his face. When she was finished, she asked if he had any questions. Feeling that this would be the time to know what he would know, he thought hard on it for a moment.

"Just a couple of things, Mistress. You said there are other elements. Do I have any control over which ones will come to me or is it random? Like, if I think about Fire all the time when I am practicing, will Fire be the one to develop next? Also, can I make complex shapes out of Earth or just spiky missiles? Like, with time, could I make a shield or weapon out of Earth? It would be nice to be able to form a backup weapon." That was all the questions he had. When he was escorted out, he would make sure to apologize for his bad behavior and insist it was only because she was an attractive woman and he meant no harm. He meant the words he said and he hoped it would come across as genuine.

All of a sudden, the door swung open and Tyler appeared, wooden weapons attached to his hips. A wooden trident was tossed to Pulren, who caught it firmly out of instinct. It looked like it was time to show another side and this interview was far from over.

[Orin Fenix]

Delia watched his progress keenly, and was pleased to note that he managed to keep his eyes where they belonged for the rest of the lesson. She smiled, though, as the young man was clearly making an effort, one visible not just to her magical senses, but also to her normal ones. Still, he was trying, and for that she was grateful. ”It seems that you can teach an old sea dog new tricks. Good. If you remember nothing else from today, leep in mind that often that which we desire can hurt us. The flame is pretty and warm, but it burns us if we touch it.” Let him make of that analogy what he will. Delia was testing his mind and his magic, although the two were closely linked. If he was smart, he’d understand that the fire she referred to was not just pretty women, but the rush of power that Reimancy and all other magic could bring to an individual. Pulren’s attentive listening drew an actual smile from her. Delia definitely believed in tough love, but that required praise where it was merited. ”Thank you for listening. And trust me, I would’ve known if your mind had wandered.” Standing up straight, she smoothed down the front of her dress, getting rid of some of the wrinkles that had started to form there. ”While your skills require work, at least you seem willing to learn and only slightly distractible. Maybe, one day, you’ll even be respectable.” His first question, though, caught her slightly off guard. Sure, they were the obvious questions one would ask after the lecture she had given, but she hadn’t thought the man capable of such intelligent leaps of thought. She revised her initial impression of Pulren. This man had some hidden depths that hadn’t been apparent in her cursory examination of him. If he did end up with the Society, she’d keep an eye on him. Schooling her features into a neutral mask, she chose her words with care. ”That’s a subject of much debate amongst scholars and mages, and isn’t often discussed with the uninitiated.” There was a warning there hidden beneath the words, that this part of the lecture shouldn’t leave the room. ”Some people say that they were able to influence the next element they discovered. Some actively try to seek them out. Others, myself included, simply stumbled upon the elements when they were ready. My thought is that the elements that come to you are linked, somehow, to your personality, which is why it feels like some can choose their elements, but it’s just a theory.” Realizing that she was overly complicating the matter, Delia shrugged, the motion looking surprisingly casual for such a self-possessed woman. ”Long story short, there’s really not a way to determine one way for another, and since all individuals are different, their experience with magic is likely different.” Fixing him with her most serious look, she emphasized the next part strongly. ”I would not recommend actively seeking it out, most especially when you’re just starting out. It’s far too dangerous. Lightening her demeanor softly, Delia crossed her arms across her chest. ”As for your last question, yes, with practice you’ll be able to make anything you can imagine out of Res. However, the size and complexity will develop with your abilities, and the first time making a new object will always be difficult.” Nodding her head regally, she indicated that she was done with her part of the interview. As the trident smacked into Pulren’s hand, Tyler gestured for him to follow. ”Come. Now that we’ve established a baseline for your mental weapons, it’s time to see how well you do with your physical ones.” Tyler grinned, a savage light coming into his eyes. While he was well-bred and well-mannered, Tyler loved the art of the fight, and it shone through. ”Come, Pulren. Follow me. Let’s see how much you’ve grown.” With that, Tyler turned on his heel and walked to the practice room, not even bothering to check if Pulren was coming or not.

[Pulren Marsh]

Now that a more pleasurable tone had been initiated between himself and Delia, Pulren settled in his seat a little. Not lax or lacking attention. He just didn't feel so tense, which was nice for a chime. Smiling in agreement about teaching a sea dog tricks, he continued to focus on her eyes, as warm and inviting a resource as the more brazen assets. He would remember about desire and its dangers. Pulren had lacked reason to attach to women for the most part, [referring the company of professionals as they moved on. You didn't pay them to stay, after all.

He did like the idea that one day he could be a respectable Wizard. It didn't really seem congruous with his general efforts, but it was an equally important weapon in his arsenal and there was no reason to let it dull. He felt a small bit of that respect come with the reaction to his question as a visible change occurred in his instructor. Gone was the rudimentary hand holding and the face of the wizened teachers of the University surveyed Pulren and his queries. He was rapt with attention as a bit of theory was present, which interested him as much if not more than the actual castings. He listened and felt camaraderie with her in that he also believed that the next element would come naturally. he nodded in agreement, smiling. "I suspected as much. I suppose it is much like everything else in life. It comes when it is time for it to come, push as we may."

Knowing that his desire to craft weapons from stone was possible was also a pleasant and soothing discovery to make. He looked forward to practicing such a task at some point when his work and studies allowed. A nod cued their departure and Pulren stood from the chair stretching a bit from the long time of sitting. He smiled and nodded to her before departing. "It has indeed been a pleasure, Delia. I look forward to our next meeting." With that, just as easily as the pairing had began it had promptly ended. Soon he was following Tyler into the fray, the murmuring of the others a kind of moving tide like the ocean would be to a fisherman. he was ready to be physical and active, ready more so to prove himself a valuable component to the Martial Society.

Once in the practice room, he watched as Tyler set about his own routine. Pulren took the time to check the fittings and straps o his boots, his armor. he would not have a stray leather tie become his undoing. Soon after, he had weapons in hand and he took the common and proper defensive posture that he had learned from the Wave Guard. Feet apart, knees slightly bent, body turned laterally from the opponent. Shield up but not so high as not to see over. Trident resting against the shied arm and the shield edge, ready to strike out. "Whenever you are ready, Sir."

A Gossamer Template

[Orin Fenix]

Delia may have played the situation wrong. On the one hand, Pulren was meeting her eyes, and not her bosom, which was a welcome change. On the other hand, he seemed to come alive once she started treating him as an equal and as an intellectual himself and not as a stupid pupil. She had to remind herself that unlike most recruits who came to the Society, he was a mostly grown man, with a lifetime’s worth of bad memories behind him. She’d have to think long and hard about the best way to continue his studies. Because, while he did seem polite, almost a changed man, she had to lead him there in a rather unsubtle manner. Still, as he walked out, she decided to throw the seadog a bone. ”You have…potential, Master Marsh. I would hate to see you waste it.” With that, he was gone, leaving Delia with her thoughts. Tyler limbered up, preparing for his upcoming duel. He wasn’t particularly worried. Unless Pulren had been holding out on him, or Tyler’s sources were wrong, Pulren shouldn’t be a match for Tyler. And Tyler imagined that Pulren’s hero worship would make the other man hesitant to hit his idol, which Tyler was planning to exploit to his fullest. As Pulren was about to find out, and he should probably know already, fighting was not a game. Rolling his neck on his shoulders, Tyler jumped back and forth on his feet nimbly a few times. It had been a while since he’d challenged a trident using, and he had to remember the tricks. Most trident users jabbed, and used the tines to catch or slide away attacks from their opponents. A very few, with the appropriate weapons, would use the shaft and the base as well. When Tyler finished his preparations, he turned to see Pulren already in a guard position. Grinning, Tyler cocked his head as Pulren acknowledged Tyler and asked when he was ready. Tyler’s grin had a bit of a savage edge to it, and his eyes danced with merriment. ”I see we’ve got a gentleman amongst us! Why don’t we give him a proper Society welcome, boys and girls!” With that, one of the female mercenaries behind Pulren stepped forward quickly, pulling two practices daggers. One she placed atop his kidney, then the other she slashed across his throat. Tyler applauded sarcastically. ”Well done! You’re dead.” Getting serious, Tyler frowned. ”I would’ve thought that Sunberth would’ve taught you this, but combat isn’t a gentlemen’s game. You don’t get points for politeness. While I appreciate the gesture and it was appropriate under the circumstances, your opponent will not give you the same luxury.” Nodding to the woman, who stepped back at this signal, Tyler unsheathed his two wooden longswords, and started circling slowly around Pulren. It was a predator’s stalk, slow and careful and ready for the prey to bolt. ”Now, we do all sorts of work around here. Bodyguard work, where the person you’re guarding’s life is more valuable than your own. We do escort missions, which are the same as body guarding jobs, but with goods. And hunting, where you go on the offensive. Regardless, you’ll never know what a threat is or where it will present itself. You’ll never know how many you’re facing or what their capabilities are. Which means that, if you do have to fight, you should focus on overwhelming and incapacitating you opponent as quickly as possible. Nothing pretty, nothing fancy, all dirty.” Tyler’s grin widened, and he started moving more quickly. ”Now let’s see what you can do with that fish sticker.”

[Pulren Marsh]

At first, Pulren was all smiles. His hero, Tyler Johnson, was now not only interviewing but fighting him! He knew he would have to show his best moves and his best attacks. However, once it was clear that Tyler was actually taunting him, his smile faded. He wasn't giving in to the taunts, as that would be novice and ridiculous. In fact, once it was proven further by the woman and her practice daggers, Pulren's entire mood changed. Sure, Pulren Marsh was a brash guy who maybe drank too much and needed some polishing. These people had never met Uncle, however. He respected Tyler and knew he was in for a fight, but this? This would require special attention.

In fact, it was the voice of our friend Uncle that spoke to the wench who had traced her sticks across his throat as he glanced her way. "Maybe I'll give you a good stabbing later, lass." Tyler said that being a gentleman was for the birds and Pulren couldn't agree more. His movements pushed him in the direction of his flashy opponent. The look that carried an edge which was given to Pulren came back with an equally edgy smile from Uncle."Very true. No points for class. My opponents rarely used wooden weapons, either. It's hardly more than a game with muted rules. I'll do my very best." He meant it, too.

The jeers and calls from the audience around him turned into meaningless background noise. Pulren paid attention to his heart beating in his chest and his breathing. Tyler's words would be useful to someone who was learning the trade but Pulren knew he had performed every job that was being explained to him. He had fought very dirty, considering that even in this fight there was the trusty straight razor folded in his boot.He circled in an opposite direction from Tyler's stalking. The difference was that when the opponent closed the gap, Pulren allowed it. He would be the victor of the reach contest.

"Who does that?" He asked Tyler as his trident shot out toward the man's head. It would be easily smacked away, but it was important for Pulren to see how it was deflected. Did he use the same grip on the sword? Did he use one or both for offense and defense? The trident shot toward the feet, the knee, the elbow. Never the torso. he would be asking to be disarmed. His shield arm's hand, hidden behind the circular wall of wood, began to move its fingers in circles as a part of Pulren's focus moved to replicate the lesson he had just learned with Delia. He was pushing res from his pores in his shield palm until he had a few pebbles. Not enough to aggravate the grip of the shield, just four or five small ones to grip there, should he lose the trident or shield.

"Dirty rush fighting is for thugs. I've seen it many times and I killed those who did it.Why would you promote that kind of thing?"

Also, if you could divert some of your attention to putting me in my place verbally rather than watching my movements, that would be great.

A Gossamer Template

[Orin Fenix]

As the change came over Pulren, Tyler narrowed his eyes. And at the insult to the woman, Tyler knew, without a doubt, that he wasn’t facing Pulren anymore, but that strange creature, Uncle, who Pulren had adopted as his alternate personality. The woman glared at Pulren, properly affronted, and if she hadn’t known that Tyler was about to trounce the unsophisticated and unmannered man, she’d have show him a few things herself. While looking at the female mercenary rather, distracted Pulren, or Uncle, Tyler struck. Blading his body to present a smaller target, his sword snaked forward and struck Uncle on the wrist, not hard enough to do permanent damage, but definitely hard enough to leave a mark. Returning to his guard stance, Tyler frowned. ”First things first. In case your experience with Delia taught you nothing, which surprises me, we treat women – and men for that matter—with respect and civility. Especially women.” A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, as Tyler stepped lightly, his eyes fixed on Pulren’s chest for the first sign of his attack. ”After all, the females of a species are often much deadlier than the males.” This drew the expected chuckle from the onlookers. ”Also, that blow in a real fight would mean you’d lose your weapon, which makes you dead again, my friend.” At Pulren’s increasingly crass remarks, guttural voice, and disturbing mannerisms, Tyler grew more and more concerned. He couldn’t afford someone with these issues on his payroll. But if he could get Pulren to abandon this odd persona of his, then Tyler didn’t know if he could take the man on. ”You don’t seem to get it, do you? I’m not talking about class, or rules or fighting dirty. I’m talking about staying alive, keeping your friends and family safe. You don’t have to be a savage to be ruthless in the defense of that you’ve sworn to protect.” And Tyler couldn’t leave it at that. ”Besides, it’s much more surprising for someone with elegance and grace to turn out to be a superb fighter. It gives you an added edge in a fight, and just so happens to make your companions more relaxed and more likely to listen to you. Especially here, in this city.” As Pulren began his assault, instead of deflecting or parrying, Tyler simply wasn’t there. Whether he swayed or stepped out of the way, none of Pulren’s attacks came close to landing. ”Don’t ever be where your opponent expects you to be. If you’re not directly the flow of the fight to where you want it to be, then you’re dead. Don't react, act.” Then, Tyler finally went on the offensive, keeping his right sword in a defensive position as he swept his left blade at Pulren’s legs. In addition, Pulren’s additional manipulations of Res, after he’d exerted himself earlier, had a peculiar effect on the man. His palms, which had already been sweaty from before, suddenly began to produce even sweatier, leaving Pulren’s grip on his weapons precarious. Maybe if he’d listened to Delia when she’d told him to stop for the day, he wouldn’t be in this predicament.

[Pulren Marsh]

While Pulren tried to keep the sounds out, it was a futile practice. He could hear the jeers and the calls of disdain due to his behavior. He could see disappointment in Tyler's eyes again! The confusion shook Pulren hard from his tree, the sting of wood catching his wrist. He never had a chance against Tyler. He was a fool for the crowd.

His attacks did not probe for weaknesses. They only showed everyone Pulren's own weakness. He had forgotten himself. He was trying so hard that he had deluded himself to believe he had any chance against Tyler. He could only shake his head and squint as sweat trickled through his hair and doused his palms after his attempt at Res. Delia was right too. He was no Wizard. He had only excelled when he abandoned his humanity as Uncle and took life easily. Without that? He was just the same scared Zeltivan kid, being struck by Uncle Pal as easily as Tyler took his legs. In a matter of a chime, Tyler showed his mastery by deconstructing the man before him. Pulren found himself on his knees, shaking his head as another salty liquid stung his eyes. It stung like shame.

The shield clattered to the wooden floor. He looked up at his better and opened his hand, the Res rocks falling from his palm. "Stupid dirty trick." A long breath came and went through his lungs before Pulren rose to his feet, the trident in both hands. "I had a family in the Wave Guard. I had family with the Scars in Sunberth. I know what you are saying." He shook his head again, trying to push the tears away, wiping them from his face. " I thought that this was the best that I could accomplish, joining the prestigious Martial Society. I could be someone better than the fisherman's mate to a drunk I've been. I did kill in Sunberth, but I killed rapists and murderers." He looked at the dagger woman. " I'm sorry I disrespected you."

He waited and watched, the sweat dripping from his grip of the trident's shaft. " If you want to keep humiliating me, we can continue. I get it. You want Pulren, not Uncle. You want class and charm and a quiet kind of grace. I'm not there yet. If you want me to keep at it and try, I can do that. It's your call, Tyler, just like it always has been."

A Gossamer Template

[Orin Fenix]

It seemed that when Tyler knocked Pulren legs out from under him, he also knocked the fight out of the man. Without a word, the other members of the Martial Society filed out, closing the door behind him, leaving the room in silence. Tyler took in the downed and fallen man before him. He noted the sweaty palms, the pebbles that trickled out. He noted the sparkle of tears in Pulren’s eyes, and how the savage mask had slipped, leaving just Pulren. Tyler said nothing as Pulren first spoke, then got to his feet, trident in his hands. Tyler stayed silent as Pulren poured his heart out, as he admitted that Tyler was his better and apologized for trying to be something, someone he wasn't. Letting Pulren finish getting everything out, before saying anything. When Pulren ran out of words, Tyler nudged the pebbles on the ground. ”Smart. You did the unexpected, just like I was hoping.” Then, carefully and deliberately setting aside his swords, Tyler clasped his hands behind his back. Meeting Pulren’s eyes, Tyler smiled kindly, compassion in his being. ”Let me tell you a story. A story of a lost and admittedly headstrong and rebellious little boy. One who ran away from the sure and safe path because he thought he could make a better life for himself on his own.” Tyler painted a picture with his words. He was, of course, speaking of himself, though Pulren wouldn't necessarily know that, of course. Tyler left out the most important details, about his heritage, but he thought that Pulren needed to hear this. ”That boy would've come to an untimely end were it not for the kindness of strangers. A boy who grew up into a man who swore to protect others, to share the kindness that he himself had received. A man who tries, every day, to make the world a better place. A man who tries, every day, to make himself a better person.” Staring intently at Pulren, watching him for every reaction, Tyler continued. ”I’m talking about me” “Families are a funny thing. I've often found that those we make for ourselves are better than those we’re born into. Regardless, they bring out the best and the worst in people. But no one, no matter how strong or skilled, can go it alone.” Warmth filled Tyler’s words, warmth for his friends, for his fellow mercenaries, for the common people of his city who just tried their best to get by. ”So, choose your family as carefully as you can. Think first about the type of person you want to be, then match your life to that. Don’t worry too much about what other people think. If you pick a life path that satisfies you, then I guarantee you’ll find company along the way.” Tyler put a hand on Pulren’s shoulder. ”It was never my intention to humiliate you.” Squeezing Pulren’s shoulder once, Tyler returned his hands behind his back. ”In fact, I quite admire you. You have your whole life ahead of you. Your whole life to improve, to learn your capabilities and then to find people who can fill in the gaps for you.” In a poignant and slightly softer echo of what Delia had expressed earlier, Tyler said ”I’d hate to see you squander that, Pulren.” Pausing, letting all of that sink in, Tyler examined Pulren for his reactions carefully. ”Do you know why I asked you here today? It’s because I saw potential in you.”

[Pulren Marsh]

It was as clear as pure water what had occurred for Pulren once his eyes were closed and he heard the footfalls of the room as those present filed out quietly. His interview was over. It it wasn't for Tyler, it clearly was for him.Once on his feet, he listened as Tyler told him a story. It was a story about the man before him and it gave Pulren some clear ideals about this hero he had worshiped. The man before him was just that. A man. Nothing more, nothing less. He found the acknowledgement of his Res trick to be appreciated, though the copper in his mouth and the extra fatigue told him doing anything else would be a bad idea.

The squeeze on his shoulder was heartening and was also appreciated. It didn't make Pulren feel any different about the interview, but it did make him feel different about Tyler and himself. He wanted to live the life that Tyler had, but he was not Tyler. The man was right. He was young and had his life ahead. "I appreciate your words, Tyler. I truly do." His trident came to rest at his side, the shaft still in his right hand."I believe the Martial Society may be a fine idea for me, but not today. I do have my life before me and I don't intend on squandering it. I want to see the world I have heard of and drawn maps of. Maybe once I have traveled as a mercenary, I can also write my own story and return to join you."

He knew he had much to do in the way of maturation. This step of realization, however, was a step in the right direction.

A Gossamer Template