[Military complex] The halfbreed enlists [voodoo,zukwa]

[Larsel]

4th of summer 514 AV Larsel walked through the busteling dirt roads that led through the military complex in taloba. He heard the clattering of steel on steel, mixed with the occasional warcry or shout of pain as a warrior struck true. A wooden shield was slung over his back, with an axe hanging at his side. He was wearing his leather armor as well. He was hoping to get his fang assinged today and get training immediatly. He looked around. His clanmates had told him it was a blood red canvas tent where he needed to go to in the military complex. Before he could have found the warrior in charge of assigning a fang. Somebody called out to him. "What's a short shaven half breed like you doing in the military complex?!" Larsel turned around to see a woman that towered over him walk over towards him with a smirk on her face. He knew that smirk well enough, it always was on the faces of the people who were bored and saw picking on him as an oppertunity to amuse themselves. Still, he had been dealing with halfwits like them for his entire life. He could handle them. Though his fists balled a bit at the short shaven comment. "I'm sixteen. I'm enlisting." He saw the woman's smirk grow. no doubt that she was on the cusp of slinging some barbs at him. As if he was just going to stand there and take it. "So I don't have time to waste with you." He cut in before she could say something, turned on his heel and just walked away. Ignoring the few choice words she slung after him. He found the Blood red canvas tent without much more problems and inside the tent. Inside a large bulky man was carefully attending to a weapon. Looking up when he heard the tent flap open. When he saw the short blueish half breed he openly scowled and stood up. a large amount of fangs hanging of a leather belt. "I'm here to enlist." Larsel said as he looked the man in the eye. He didn't cower at the man's gaze. Though he was sure that if he faced him in battle he probably would be thinking differen'tly. The man looked like he could wrestle a dhani into submission.

[Voodoo]

The man stood there, towering over the young boy with very little change in his emotion. If he had seen what had transpired outside, he probably would have outright laughed in the half-breeds face. The way he walked in, enveloped with such confidence was hilarious to begin with, but to back-sass a female warrior? That was rolling on the ground laughing worthy. In any case, it might have made this man crack a smile. Instead, he was obligated to sit and stare.

So the Deyhan wanted to enlist did he? An outsider willing to spill his blood for Taloba, Myrians, and for Myri? This was rarely heard of. Sure, the few that had grown up in Myrian society still served their required time within the army, but many left afterwards. They simply would not renounce their bad blood and pledge themselves completely to the Goddess-Queen. He surveyed the bad blooded man before him before unfolding one of his arms from his chest. He tilted his hand towards the boy, eyes narrowing.

"Name?"

Simple and to the point.

[Larsel]

"Larsel of the Blackened Claws," the half-breed answered the man's question, trying to keep his composure underneath the man's stare. This was a lot more nerve-wracking then the run in with the warrior outside. Sure, this was a male, but it was easy to blow off the female warrior because he would most likely never see her again. She probably would forget about him pretty soon anyway. But here? He couldn't blow him off and get through. He had to stand here and answer the man's questions. He had to take his scrutiny and scorn head on. It was obvious this man scorned him. He was staring at him with narrowed eyes like he was a piece of Ashta dung stuck to his toes and from the way he was looking him over he just knew what kind of thought's were going through the larger man's head. Bad blood, half breed, Deyhan. Despite his nerves and the urge to look away from the man. He kept standing tall and confident. No matter what the myrians thought of him. He was a myrian, born and raised. Traces of other blood in his body didn't change that fact and he would prove it through service and skill.

oocSorry it's so short.. ^^;

[Voodoo]

He took a moment to write the Deyhan's name down, writing a few other things down. As a recruiter, he was allowed to assume some things. Especially when it came to scrawny half-breeds. Every once in a while, he would look up to the half-breed to make sure he was getting the right information. For weapon of choice, he put down ax and mentioned the use of a shield based on what he was carrying.

"Larsel of the Blackened Claws. Weapon of Choice: Ax. Use of Shield: Yes. What are you a mix of Deyhan?"

His voice was gravelly as he questioned his blood choices. Clearly the man did not entirely trust half-breeds or non-Myrians.

[Larsel]

Larsel could almost taste the distrust of the man when he filled in some kind of form. He was sure there were more questions involved then just his name and which blood he had. Then again, the man disliked him. He probably was trying to get him out of his hair as quickly as possible. Something he was agreeing complletely with. The tension in the air and the man's foul stare in his direction was probably going to give him nightmares. "My father was an isur." He answered the man's questions. Ignoring his insults.

[Voodoo]

Isur. Well, at least it wasn't a Dhani. Besides, Isur were powerful creatures the deserved a little respect. Not that this half-breed would ever get the respect a true-blooded Myrian would. Quietly he nodded, making a few more notes before stepping passed Larsel. He only motioned the Deyhan to follow him once before stepping into the training yard. Here, he examined the Fangs that were practicing. Who was capable of bringing a half-breed up to par? No, not them. They were too slow and too proud. They would kill him and make it look like an accident. This fang on the archer grounds? They would probably tie him up and leave him in the jungle. Or they would make him their petching slave. Either way, it did not seem appropriate. Finally he set his eyes upon a scrawny boy, one who had not been in the military long.

"Zukwa! To me!" The command from the recruiter came. He waited until the boy joined them. "This is Deyhan Larsel," the man started, including his name and his rank among them as a half-breed. "You are to take him to Seku. She needs new meat to torture. Also, I'm making him your responsibility. If he screws up, it's on you."

That seemed reasonable. With a hateful smirk, he turned and disappeared into the tent to let the boys get used to one another.

[Zukwa]

The weapon in his hand, the composite shortbow made from yew and bone that was so dear to the Myrian, bent under the strain of his pull. The youthful warrior sighted in along the potential path of his arrow and loosed. The shaft flew true, striking it’s intended target forcefully. Zukwa smiled under the black cloth he wore over his face. He was about to draw and notch another arrow when he heard his name called, authority ringing easily in the air.

The Rekrut turned and saw one of the warriors he knew only vaguely as Clan kin to his Tokoh. The two had apparently been somewhat close in their youth and her respect for him leaked over into her Fang. He was also a superior and a blooded veteran. Zukwa reacted immediately and with the ease of someone who had been training to obedience from an early age. The soft pad of his footfalls was the only sound he made as he ran from his place amongst the practicing archers to the seasoned warrior. He stood just outside the recruitment tent. It was only after Zukwa had approached the warrior that he noticed the youth next to him.
Something was odd about the male. After giving the recruiter a quick salute, Zukwa scrutinized the other while the man issued his orders. The youth carried weapons and a shield as Myrians sometimes were prone to do, and dressed as such as well. But his hair was shorter, and he was shorter! The skin had a slight oddity about it as well, a slight blue hue that made Zukwa wary of disease. The Rekrut leant subtly away from the short one. The warrior identified the oddity when introducing the boy, Deyhan Larsel…

“You are to take him to Seku. She needs new meat to torture. Also, I’m making him your responsibility. If he screws up, it’s on you.”

Petch it.

Zukwa was still trying to prove himself in the Fang. A few, Pap and Muluc, were younger and less experienced than he, but he was still one of the newest and most untested members. All he needed now was to drag around some half-Myrian. Zukwa watched the warrior leave in silence, his mouth and nose hidden from view. But the Myrian’s eyes were dark and his brow furrowed, clearly he was frowning.

Zukwa turned back to the other, Larsel. He tilted his head slightly, braids shifted with it. “Where has your hair run to, Little-berry?” Zukwa said the last with a soft chuckle but seemed not to want an answer as he turned immediately to cross the yard.

“You are in luck, Rekrut Larsel.” Zukwa left the jest there, knowing the Fang would pester Larsel enough without his help. He was inclined to doubt the man, only half the blood that ran through his blood was blessed by Myri! Zukwa did , however, believe that anyone who fashioned themselves a warrior should be given opportunity to prove their worth. “Seku will bring much blood to your weapon. Perhaps so much that you can hide your own.” Zukwa said the last with a dark tone that hinted at understanding, rather than jest.

[Larsel]

Larsel followed the recruiter without anymore fuss. glad that he would soon be out of the man’s sight and training in a fang. Then he could start to completely focus on the difficult task ahead of him. Fitting into the fang and making sure that it wasn’t his fang who offed him instead of some beast or a dhani. Not many myrians had any love for halfbreeds like him. The man called out and it didn’t take very long for another young myrian. this one wearing a mask that covered the lower half of his face and a bow in his hand. An archer of some sorth, but why did he wear the mask? It couldn’t be scars. Myrians loved showing those off. Personal shame of some sort? Larsel got a bit irritated when the man said the boy in front of him would be responsible for his screwups. He was an adult myrian himself. He could answer for his own mistakes and misdeeds. He kept his mouth though. He could tell it to the boy. Zukwa, he was named it seemed; That he didn’t need anybody covering him from his own mistakes. He had been owning up for those, one his mother made and quite a few ones he hadn’t done for his entire life already. When he looked the boy in the eye he saw the furrowed brows. Clearly Zukwa didn’t like the idea of babysitting him. He grit his teeth in determination. Well he didn’t need his babysitting, he was going to pull his own weight and show the boy and the fang he belonged to, that he was a myrian just like them. Then the boy opened his mouth and larsel’s mind just came to a screeching halt. The crack about his hair was expected, but the other thing just left him spluttering in indignation. “Litt..little berry?” he sputtered out, he had to admit. At least this guy had more creativity with coming up with nicknames then the mayority of myrians. Most of them just stay with the obvious ones. Half breed, shorty. Disgrace tot he myrian blood, deyhan. He had to make sure this guy didn’t get it in his head to pick on him. Creativity and bullying never went well together for the victim. He followed zukwa across the yard. Listing as the boy said that his fang would bring blood to his weapon. Enough to mask his own bad blood. “Good. I’ll make myri proud.” He simpely stated with conviction in his voice. He noticed that Zukwa was leading him towards a group. Two women were currently fighting, the one with the spear easily staying two steps ahead of the younger one wielding a waraxe. While another woman was egging on the younger woman. A bit of the side two older men where instructing another younger man the hard way on how to wield a gladius. Zukwa didn’t seem to be concentrated on another group. So he guessed that one would be the one. “So, would that be our fang?” he gestured towards the training people not to far away from them.

[Voodoo]

Congratulations Myri's finest. Here are your rewards for your efforts!

 

Zukwa

XP

• Archer: +1
• Running: +1
• Socialization: +1
• Observation: +1

Lores

• Responsible for a Deyhan
• Seku: Where Blood Flows From

 

Larsel

XP

• Socialization: +4
• Observation: +4

Lores

• Named Little Berry
• Fangmate: Zukwa
• Fang Tokoh: Seku

Your's Truly,