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

Pulren goes in to meet his idol, Tyler, for a long overdue reunion

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

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

Postby Orin Fenix on June 7th, 2015, 8:23 pm

1st of Summer, 515AV

Summer had come to Zeltiva and the city buzzed with anticipation. Ships darted in and out of the harbor, nearly crashing in their haste to unload and cast off. Still, the skill and dedicated of the crews showed as they avoided collisions with subtle turns of the wheel and a keen eye for currants. People flooded the streets, setting aside the last remnants of cool weather clothing and showing off their summer finery. Women fanned themselves in the heat, and shade was becoming highly coveted. The men, despite the sweat dripping down their brows, were much too proud to allow any sign of weakness show. They wouldn’t surrender to mere weather. The markets were practically bursting as merchants hastened to sell their wares, trying to make as much profit as possible before they would have to sail out to avoid the winter winds. And some of the deals being made were not quite as honest as others. In fact, even the criminals felt energized and were stepping up their efforts to make money at others expense. However, the most lucrative business was in information and messengers flew throughout the city and ships brought news from abroad. In the University, students gazed listlessly out the window, the humidity turning some of the finest minds into drooling idiots who could only think of their next cooling bath. In short, the city was preparing itself for the hottest season of the year.

Even the breezes seemed more animated than usual, as if picking up some of the energy of the people in the city below. One in particular seemed almost determined to examine all the strange humans. It darted from street to street, taking joy from the faces that turned to it in relief and caressing the various substances it passed over. If it had eyes, it could’ve seen that as it left The Sailor’s Quarter and approached East Street, the dwellings grew shabbier and the people grew rougher. It seemed almost like another city entirely. There was a rough edge to everything and an almost palpable air of danger lurking about the streets. The small kindness that could occasionally be found in the more refined areas of the city disappeared entirely here. While everywhere in Zeltiva was cutthroat, here it was out in the open and not disguised by the veneer of civilization that was held to elsewhere.

But all this was lost on the breeze as it finally drifted through an open window. Inside was an office of a man clearly born with a natural militaristic bearing. He was hard, but just, and could take down many opponents and still be able to show them mercy after if it was called for. His office was neat and tidy. Partially this spoke to his organization. Mostly, though, it stemmed from his tendency to operate in the field and not just sit behind his desk to coordinate his crews. In short, Tyler Johnson was a born leader.

Tyler grumbled as a passing draft tried to snatch the report he was reading from his hands. The open window was an annoying necessity now that the summer heat had descended upon them. Otherwise this office and the whole building would be sweltering. Tyler would rather be cool and put up with an errant wind now and then rather than boil in his own room. Especially because he wore his leather armor always and kept his weapons nearby. His longsword and its sheathe leaned on the desk to his left and his bow and quivers were on the right. His daggers were on his hip. Although he got out less and less often as the demands of command and chains of bureaucracy stole more and more of his time, Tyler still took every opportunity to deal with emergencies that presented itself. If he was stuck doing paperwork for the rest of his days, he may as well give up and return to his father’s service. And that would never in a million years happen. No, Tyler had come too far to let his freedom and independence go. He was proud to be the Captain of the Martial Society, even if it did mean he had to go through forms until his hands cramped and he felt like going cross-eyed. It was worth it to ensure his people were safe and his honor and reputation were intact.

Tyler had seen the lawlessness present in so many other parts of the world. Whole cities had descended into anarchy. His goal, his mission, his very reason for existence, was to keep that from happening in Zeltiva. And that meant not only tackling threats but also making sure the Martial Society ran smoothly. He was the best, and sometimes he felt, only man for the job.

Tyler brushed his hair out of his eyes angrily. He was overdue for a cut. The longer hair could give an opponent a grip in a fight and while Tyler was confident in his combat prowess there was no sense taking unnecessary risks. When he finally settled back down to his parchments, a name caught his eye on his upcoming appointments. Pulren Marsh, the Wave Guard who Tyler had worked with to take down some rogue mages who had escaped from the Asylum. Tyler frowned as he remembered that night. They’d gotten two of the enemies, but the third had disappeared into thin air. Pulren had shown promise and Tyler had decided then and there to keep an eye on him. All had seemed well until he had gone to Sunberth. Tyler’s information about that city wasn’t as extensive, since his network there wasn’t as entrenched. But the rumors that had come back were troubling. The crimes that Pulren had supposedly committed were ones that no honorable man would dare think of. Still, Tyler couldn’t afford to turn down promising candidates. There was just such a disconnect between the man Tyler had briefly met and the stories he’d been able to collect about Pulren’s time in Sunberth. Which is why he’d called Pulren in for an interview of sorts. It wasn’t typical but Tyler needed to see Pulren face to face and get some answers. His gut would tell him whether or not Pulren was trustworthy.
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[Guest ST] A Guardsman's Request (Pulren)

Postby Pulren Marsh on June 8th, 2015, 4:40 am

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Dawn had come early for Pulren on the first day of Summer. He had awakened early and had gathered his Wave Guard uniform and shield, departing for the Headquarters. His chest was like a large hive of bees buzzing, though it wasn't anxiety over leaving the Guard. It was the anticipation he had for meeting Tyler Johnson in a few bells. He had received a message a few days prior to meet with the Captain of the Society and everything had been a blur since then. His hero wanted him to meet with him about joining the Society! It was the greatest message he had received, short of the words of wisdom received by Priskil.

His feet carried him along the streets and up the hill to the Headquarters with the lightness and speed of a passing cloud along the summer sky. Colors were brighter, the birds were audible. All was well and in place in Pulren's life. The paperwork at the Headquarters was rote and without circumstance. He had merely resigned from the Guard, returning all of his items with his thanks. The Sergeant present didn't even balk, seeming to be aware of Pulren's move to the Society before he voiced it. This was no surprise. When the will moved, the world turned with it. He floated back to his home with the same ease that he had traveled, taking time and care to bathe himself and groom himself for the meeting.

As Syna ascended higher in the sky above Zeltiva, Pulren was donning his studded leather armor, wiping it down with a wet rag to at least bring some of the sheen back into it. It was marred with little nicks and cuts, as if to display its use in protecting Pulren's body from the many blows he had received while in Sunberth. He had wanted to wear his leather pants, but it was just too hot a day for them, so he chose the black linen ones instead, tucking them into his boots, which also got a little wipe up. If the armor was any indication of his battles, his shield was the main speaker of the day. Forunately, it had been made of a sturdy wood or it would no longer be much of a shield. It had taken arrows, axes, swords and hammers. It had bashed against bodies and barriers. There was no doubt that it had been in a fight.

As he cleaned up his stubbly beard with his razor, he took a moment, his eyes focusing on it. The simple combination of wood and metal pretty much was the essence of Uncle. Much like the trident, it had pierced flesh and let blood in the city of anarchy. He took great care and diligence in folding it, his conscious mind not even bearing the thought of it being slid into his boot. It was a necessary weapon, just like Uncle was. A sack was tied with the gold that the Society required as dues. While it was something that was required after being accepted, Pulren could not imagine being turned down. Priskil just made it impossible for any other outcome. All that was left was to take up the trident, its familiar weight a blessed boon in the Zeltivan's hand. He was as ready as he was going to be to meet the man.

---

He could smell the grass and the flowers of the courtyard of the Society's headquarters. This time, as he walked toward the building's main entrance, he returned nods from those who stood guard at the fortress. While he was not one of their brothers yet, he felt sure in his heart that he soon would be. The creak and the weight of his boots on the steps as he entered into the porch and foyer of the building was a sound he knew he would remember, an otherwise overlooked occurrence though everything was very clear and present at the moment. Stepping up to the counter, he stood at ease until it was his turn to speak. It was the girl he had encountered as a courier, Anna, who greeted him. "Back again, I see. He's expecting you. Upstairs on the right."

A smile and nod of quiet thanks was all he could muster for the courteous looker, his entire being set upon the impending meeting. He had prepared himself mentally as best as he was able and now he was ascending the stairs. Pulren took several deep breaths as he climbed, bringing himself into focus and trying desperately to settle the swarm in his torso. The door was partly open and he could see Tyler sitting at his desk, an odd juxtaposition to the man of action he had seen on the deck of the Maiden's Voyage. Stepping into the door, he looked at him and opened his mouth.

"Pulren Marsh, reporting."
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[Guest ST] A Guardsman's Request (Pulren)

Postby Orin Fenix on June 8th, 2015, 12:37 pm

Pulren didn’t know it, but he was about to be tested. Not his physical capabilities. Those had never been in question, and, indeed, even the few toughs who spotted him decided it would be a good idea to wait for the next mark. There was some indefinable air about him, and it was only heightened by the pitted and stained armor he wore, that both the testaments of being in many battles. This was not a man to be trifled with, it seemed to say. As he approached the Martial Society headquarters, even the mercenaries on guard thee seemed to catch that there was a dangerous man in there. The nods they gave him were ones of respect, but if he had cared to see they also surreptitiously put their hands on their weapons. They were men of the Martial Society, and they would die before they let anyone defile their home.

Inside, the office was as hectic as ever. Men and women came and went with messages, news, and requests. Many of them were members of the Society, here to receive their work assignments. Just as many others though, were those petitioning the Society for work of all kinds, some legal, some murky, but all necessary in the world of Zeltiva. After all, clandestine meetings sometimes turned dangerous and having a few bodies along was never a bad idea. It was understood that in a world of intrigue how this all worked. The Martial Society didn’t always condone illegal doings, but it wasn’t above dabbling in them as necessary. Sometimes it was the only way to stay ahead. Through all this chaos, Anna and her assistants imposed order. She was a deceptive woman, appearing mild-mannered and unfailingly polite. Like everyone else attached to the Martial Society though, she was perfectly capable of fighting when the need arose. What made her invaluable though, was the knack she had for remembering faces and the mental acuity she had when it came to administrative details. As soon as Pulren entered she saw and remembered him, but gave no indication until he was before her. Her sharp eyes missed little in the office. As she sent him up, she made her own evaluation. Very occasionally would her opinion be sought out, so she wanted to be prepared.

--

Tyler had heard the footsteps coming up the stairs. As soon as Pulren stepped into the room, Tyler glanced up and gave Pulren a silent examination. As far as appearance went, Pulren seemed remarkably unchanged. The only major difference was the lack of facial hair. Last time, Pulren had been sporting a bit of a scruffy beard but today his cheeks were bare. The blonde-streaked-brown hair was still there, and Pulren still looked lean and corded with muscle. He had a swimmer’s body, likely honed from long hours in the water. The only other addition was a piece of armor that had clearly seen hard use. Tyler looked down, amused. If he had to hazard a guess, he’d say that Pulren’s armor was meant to imitate his own. The question was, why? Why would Pulren want to copy a man who he’d spent barely a night with, a man who had failed his contract and let the crew die. The stab of anger and regret Tyler felt was a familiar one. If he’d been a bit faster, and had brought more men, or made a million different decisions, so many lives could have been saved. As it was, Tyler had been able to save the two members of the Wave Guard, but it had been a close call nevertheless.

And now one of those two was here again. Tyler suddenly smiled, standing up as he did so. ”So formal! There’s really no need for that. You’re not technically one of my subordinates yet, so I think we can dispense with some of the pleasantries.” He walked around to the front of the desk, clasping Pulren firmly on the right shoulder and propelling the man forward. As he did, he dropped his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. ”Besides while I recognize the necessity of it, the bowing and scraping gets to me sometimes. If he’d wanted people to be treating him like that he’d have stayed in his father’s household. Pointing at the other chair in the room, Tyler started making his way towards a drinks cabinet in the corner. ”Sit, sit. We might be here a while after all.” Finally he arrive at the drinks. They were stored in a dark wood frame, polished to gleam. Scanning the labels, Tyler selected a red wine he’d already opened and snagged two glasses with his other hand. Returning to the table, he set one glass in front of Pulren and the other in front of his chair. Removing the cork, Tyler poured a generous portion in both of their glasses.

Returning the bottle to the cabinet, Tyler finally sat down. He swirled the dark colored liquid around a few times, before taking a sip. The flavor was incredible, with undertones of some sweet berry and the overtones of a well made wine. Raising the glass, Tyler made an impromptu toast. ”To new beginnings and old friends.” He tapped Pulren’s cup carefully with his own, and took a slightly larger swallow. Setting the wine aside for now, Tyler winked at Pulren. ”I know I shouldn’t indulge in fine beverages, but it’s one of my few vices. I picked it up along my travels and now I can’t seemed to shake it.” His voice was wry, with a humor hidden deep within it. Indicating his desk and the paperwork strewn upon it, Tyler shook his head. ”Besides, sometimes after a day of writing reports and signing forms, I just need a drink.” And what he didn’t say was that he was alway careful never to drink more than one cup at a time. He would never allow himself to be drunk on duty. That was a surefire way to get him and those he led killed.

Steepling his fingers, Tyler rested his elbows on the desk and his chin on his hands. Suddenly, the affable man of earlier was gone. In his place was the hardened leader of men whose gaze nearly pierced Pulren to the chair. This was far more like the man Pulren had met on that fateful night. There was an edge to everything he did, and every word came out crisp. And there was a good reason behind almost everything he did. The friendly man of earlier was Tyler as well, but this was the steel core Tyler used to make his own way out in the world and face dangers that would curl a lesser man’s toes. ”So. You want to join the Martial Society.” Never letting his gaze leave Pulren’s face, watching the man for every shift, every cue, and primed to discover every nuance of the other man’s words, Tyler let one word fall from his lips.

”Why?"
Last edited by Orin Fenix on June 13th, 2015, 3:14 am, edited 1 time in total.
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[Guest ST] A Guardsman's Request (Pulren)

Postby Pulren Marsh on June 13th, 2015, 2:42 am

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Pulren felt at home immediately. Tyler rose from his seat, greeting him. While it was true that he was not yet under the man's watch, he earnestly wanted to be, so when he clasped his shoulder with a strong grip and mentioned his dislike of bowing and scraping, Pulren found himself at odds for a moment. Confused was really the best word, since he hoped that Tyler wouldn't see him as such a person. As the captain went to make drinks, Pulren wondered if he hadn't made a fool of himself, wearing his armor and bringing his weapons. He had expected some kind of test, a way to prove his worth to the Society. Since it was going to be a conversation, he put his trident and shield in an unoccupied corner of the room and took a seat as suggested.

He watched the wine being poured into the glass and his mind took a journey back to Sunberth, when Web had poured a drink for him at the table when he was being sized up for the Scars. Once Tyler's glass was raised, Pulren took one of his own and nodded in response to his impromptu toast, having a rudimentary sniff of the wine, his eyebrow popping up in satisfaction before he had a swallow. It was exquisite, perhaps the best wine he had ever tasted. He couldn't help but smack his lips at it. Enjoying a second sip, he felt the initial warming of the beverage inside his gullet. "Life's too precious not to enjoy it." He didn't want to say too much; his initial formality had been met with a strange resentment. He felt it might be better if he just stuck to the facts and tried to enjoy himself. He was already there to join, but he had to remind himself that he wasn't guaranteed a spot in the Society. A real shame if he wasn't, considering he had just quit his job.

Waiting seemed to work its magic, as the warmth of the wine left Tyler's face and he had quickly turned into the stone faced mercenary that stepped from the shadows on the Voyage. The question was delivered. It was time to get to business. Pulren had been in the spot where he had been stared down and perused, from the coy but deadly Web to the undead eyes of the Nuit on Sahova. He was accustomed to scrutiny and he had come back every time a winner. This time would be no different.

"The Wave Guard was a good place for me to start. I was my Uncle's helper until his passing and I didn't have the skills to survive in this world until I joined the Guard and took on the training I received. I would probably still be serving with them if I was still the Pulren of before." He took the cup and swirled the drink inside it around, looking at the dark liquid as his memories took him back. "As you well know, I met you on the deck of the Maiden's Voyage. What you may not know is that the burning bitch, Addison, injected me with her Res at the time of her death when I killed her. So, it seems that I am a Reimancer as well now, something that I have told a total of two people, you being one of those people."

It made sense to tell Tyler. A man in his position would find out eventually anyway and it also gave Pulren an edge in his skills when he was sized up. "I'd love to find that old crab Sivet sometime." He quickly downed the rest of the cup and put it aside, getting more to the point. "But to the point, when you arrived on that ship and saved Rick and myself, I knew then and there I wanted to be like you. I didn't know you. I don't claim to now, but your skills and confidence in the face of danger was what I wanted to have. So when the opportunity presented itself for me to spend a couple of season in Sunberth, I jumped at it. I felt it was the only way I would truly learn if I was going to survive this world or not and of course, I did. Since I came back, though, I just don't feel like I can be the same person I was when I was a Wave Guard. I feel like I am a man now and no longer a boy. The Society is a place for men who are ready and willing to fight or even die for it. I am one of these men."

He was finished. He would now wait for a response. His own gaze was unflinching but he held respect for Tyler and he hoped that it shone through.
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[Guest ST] A Guardsman's Request (Pulren)

Postby Orin Fenix on June 13th, 2015, 6:44 pm

When the word magic left Pulren’s lips, Tyler immediately pulled a string attached to the bottom of his desk. Pulren couldn’t see it, but it went into a small office directly beneath this one. That office was the office of the Society’s resident magical expert, one Delia Le’Blanc. The string was attached to a bell tied behind her desk. It rang, once, and she stilled it, immediately setting down the report she’d been reading. Although it was only a precaution, anything magical that came through to the Martial Society had to be thoroughly vetted by her. Many lives had been saved by her quick thinking and vast knowledge of everything arcane. In fact, if she had been with Tyler on that fateful night when the escapees from the Asylum rampaged, the outcome might have been very different.

She made her way upstairs to a little room that was barely more than a closet right next to Tyler’s offices. No one outside the upper echelon of the Martial Society knew about this room, and it’s entrance was cleverly hidden, the door painted over in such a way that unless one was really looking for it, the seams would be hidden. And anyone searching for it would be quickly apprehended by members of the Martial Society who did not particularly enjoy having their secrets exposed, like all good people of Zeltiva. She waited until the hallway was clear before darting inside. It was dark, but since the room was so narrow anyway that she could make her way by feel, it didn’t matter. She found what she was looking for almost immediately. There was a peephole, its openings covered and obscured by the drink cabinet. One would have to have almost eagle like eyesight and suspect its existence in order to ever find it. Which was unlikely when the charismatic Tyler was holding your attention.

Inside, the scene was the same, with Tyler on one side of his desk and Pulren on the other. Clearly, Tyler wished her opinion and thoughts of whoever this man was, so she invoked her Auristics, the magic transforming everything in the room and suffusing it with an otherworldly glow. She trained her focus on Pulren and let her ears, her eyes, and her magic tell her everything she needed to know. Pulren's aura was, for her, at its base, the blues and greens of the sea, slashed through with lines of red that hurt to look at as they practically pulsed with anger. And there was a curiously divided element to it, as if Pulren had split his personality somehow and although he'd done his best to recombine it, cracks still showed along the fault line.

--

At the bewildered look on Pulren’s face Tyler let out a throaty guffaw. ”I didn’t mean you, of course. I just meant all of this.” His gesture encompassed the office in which they both sat. Hopefully it also told Pulren what Tyler really meant but Tyler had learned not to rely too much on people’s ability to reason. ”I know it’s necessary to have the respect of my men and that comes with a certain degree of formality attached.” He smiled, then fixing his most pleasant expression and directing it towards Pulren. ”But you and I, we are men of action no? I’d rather be out there fighting side by side with those below me than listening to their complaints and running everything from behind this desk.” He let out another chuckle then, stroking the surface of the desk. ”Although you have to admit, it’s a nice desk.” Although it was barely visible underneath all the parchment and books, the desk was expertly carved, a gift from one of the highest members of the Artisan’s guild. The man also doubled as a professor at the University and worked for the Navy on occassion. He was a brilliant carpenter and the desk was a thank you from him for when Tyler had worked out a particularly knotty problem for him.

The toast finished, Pulren added his own small addendum to it. Tyler nodded and sipped cautiously at the wine. He agreed with the sentiment although it was a curiously fatalistic statement for one so young. Tyler had been many places and seen many things, some of which it might be argued weren't meant for mortal eyes. But although he couldn't be more than a few years older than Pulren, he maintained a stubborn optimism. It was one born of hope and tempered in the crucible of reality, but it was still there, battered and bruised but no worse the wear. But maybe Tyler was reading too much into the statement. Besides, he had an interview to conduct.

He kept his face impassive throughout Pulren's explanation. He noted the anger when Addison came up, and had his fears confirmed when Pulren mentioned he'd been forcibly inducted into Reimancy. He did covertly signal Delia to come up, now needing her opinion of Pulren's admittance to the Society. After all, any mage would have to work with her at some point, particularly if they were new and untrained. Tyler's eyes narrowed nearly imperceptibly as he tried to factor in how this might change his plans. Mages were unpredictable by nature. The fact that Pulren hadn't told anything was a bit surprising, but made sense if he hadn't been practicing. In Tyler's experience, the more one used their magic, the more their secrets tended to spill out. The discretion was to be applauded, but the lingering grudge was not. Even though Tyler wished to find that snake, he didn't let it show and he would never let it influence his decisions. The Pulren of before had been impulsive, as had his companion, and despite the man's assurance that he'd changed and developed as a person that seemed to remain the same.

Tyler was troubled by Pulren's admission that he had, in essence, idolized Tyler. He let his thoughts formulate as he raised one eyebrow at Pulren drowning the rest of the excellent beverage all in one go. It was meant to be savored not gulped like a cheap beer. But that didn't bother him as much as Pulren's placement of Tyler on a pedestal. It wasn't good for Tyler to have that distance from his men. He needed their respect, sure, but he also needed them to be able to tell him he was wrong when he was wrong, not just blindly trust his every move. "So let's recap. You were surrounded by potential role models in the Wave Guard, but you picked someone you saw once, someone who made the smart choice but definitely not the heroic one. You didn't even know if I was a good person. All you knew was that I failed my job and got the people I was protecting slaughtered on my watch as well as the men with me." He stared at Pulren, trying to dissect the man with his eyes. "And yes, when the situation changed and we had the advantage on them, I came out of hiding. But tell me, in my shoes, would you be a bit concerned about someone who felt that saving their own skin was more important than taking a stand?" Of course Tyler was oversimplifying the situation. Only an idiot fought when they had no chance of winning and the smart warrior would retreat to fight another day. But Tyler knew he hadn't been particular brave that day, no matter what Pulren might think. Pulren's answer really didn't matter, but Tyler was trying to get a feel for how the man thought.

When Sunberth came up, Tyler flipped over a piece of paper. In reality, it was an old roster, but Pulren didn't need to know that. For all Pulren knew, it was a complete and accurate report of his actions in Sunberth. Of course, Tyler didn't have the resources or inclination to have kept that close tabs on someone he'd met once. But he had heard something of Pulren's time in Sunberth and it was bothersome that it had been so glossed over in his explanation. "Now, tell me, why exactly did you leave for Sunberth? And what happened to you during your time there." Tyler hoped that Pulren would be honest, since he needed men he could trust beneath him. But he wasn't above pushing Pulren and putting pressure on the man for specific details.

At Pulren's final comments about being a man and being willing to fight and die for the Society, Tyler had to very carefully keep his face blank. What he wanted to do was laugh but that wouldn't do either of them any good. Instead, he disguised his internal state by taking yet another sip of his wine. When the goblet hit the desk, Tyler had himself under control again. "Tell me, what is the Martial Society?" He paused to let the impact of that question settle into Pulren's mind before adding one that was perhaps even more poignant. "And what does the Martial Society mean to you." He had a very clear idea of the Society in his mind, and was terribly afraid he'd have to disabuse Pulren of a few notions.
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[Guest ST] A Guardsman's Request (Pulren)

Postby Pulren Marsh on June 21st, 2015, 10:53 am

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Pulren settled a little bit once he realized that he had erroneously believed that Tyler was suggesting that he had come in there to bow and scrape. He was certainly not a peer or equal to the man, but he didn't necessarily feel inferior either. Tyler just generated a kind of heroic presence and anyone who didn't see or respect that really didn't deserve to be sitting where Pulren was at the moment, in his opinion. He even felt elevated when Tyler mentioned that they were men of action.

It was true, in Pulren's case. He hadn't seen anything come of sitting around and waiting for an answer when one could go and find that answer instead. Sometimes that came with bumps and scrapes, sometimes a lot more. But most of the time, it also came with the answer. Finding the scene more agreeable, he chuckled along with Tyler. "Very nice desk. I purchased one myself in Sunberth. Not this nice, but close." He had enjoyed the accompanying wealth that the mercenary's purse had brought along with it. In fact, it was the very purse that Tyler had given to him that bought all of his fine furniture and clothing, the very stuff that helped Pulren feel loftier than the average swordcarrier.

Tyler changed the routine again with his questioning of Pulren's views of the Maiden's Voyage and of Tyler's actions that night. Once it seemed it was his time to speak, he lingered for a moment, his mouth opening and his opinions spilling out like blood. "Well, I thought that your position was one of strategy. Look at the number of men that littered the deck of the Voyage, the ones that drowned all around it. Those Guards were being driven like fish to the nets and it only took one arrow from you to put down what at least two dozen fighters couldn't. I respect that." He looked at the glass, wishing he hadn't downed it all at once as the memories of the day returned to him, as they often did.

"Heroes save lives. You saved mine and you saved Rick's. The smart move in that situation would have been to cut the Voyage loose and burn it down from range. None of them knew how to pilot a ship an they would have just drowned. The loss of the ship would have been worthwhile rather than all of that loss of life. Unfortunately, we can't take it back. It's done." That situation and many like it had not only put hair on the former Guardsman's chest but also put the lines under his eyes.

Of course, Sunberth came up. Tyler flipped a paper and seemed to be surmising the deeds of spies. He wondered how much he really knew, how much blood had been spilled in the name of Uncle. " I traveled there with a friend of mine, a Syliran Knight named Markus Andres and his companion, a Konti named S'Essy. Markus was looking for slavers that had kidnapped some of his family members. I felt like it would be a real test, more real than exercises in the Wave Guard yard. I was right." He rolled his neck and looked Tyler in the eye. "I don't know what you have written down there, but it probably lists many murders that I did in the guise of Palaren Marshall, or better yet, as a man called Uncle. It's true. I did kill many men in Sunberth. But each one of them were either slavers, rapists or were actively trying to kill me. I don't tolerate any of those kinds of people." He shifted in his seat, not out of discomfort, but more as he tried to settle himself down a little, not wanting to lose sight of the goal of the interview.

"I think that Sunberth has a kind of maddening spirit. I could see that if I had stayed there, I might have become all sorts of undesirable things. I came back to Zeltiva, however, and tried to go back to being a loyal Guard. I'm just not that guy anymore." It was sad, but true. It was a natural transition into answering Tyler's last question."The Martial Society is an organization that manages people with talents. People who solve problems for a fee. I'm sure there are people that work for you that aren't as direct and violent as me. I wish them well and will help them if I serve with them." He sat in silence for a long chime before answering the very last. "The Martial Society is my one chance to really excel at something and keep my humanity. I could be a bloodthirsty sellsword for just about anyone. I don't want to be that person, though. Sunberth almost killed me, turned me on myself. I pulled myself back from the brink and this is the only honorable organization that I can see myself serving with." He took a long, deep breath. " I don't want to be a monster, Tyler. I want to be a skilled fighter and tactician. I want to be the shield for those who cannot defend themselves and the sharpened trident against those who would prey on such people."
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[Guest ST] A Guardsman's Request (Pulren)

Postby Orin Fenix on July 2nd, 2015, 2:09 am

As Pulren spoke, Delia sank deeper and deeper into her nearly trancelike state. The other auras of the room, most from inanimate objects and Tyler’s an orange like a welcoming fire that blazed up into a raging inferno when the captain was roused, faded away. Instead, the turquoise and maroon gleam that comprised Pulren’s aura became her sole focus. As it did, the lines across it started bleeding in, turning the seas crimson as they did, almost like blood spilling into the water. It was a disconcerting sight, to say the least. But to Delia’s ears, Pulren’s words rang with emotions that might not be as readily apparent from his tone. She sat back, fascinated, already coming up with ideas as to where this new recruit might best be put to work. While he professed to be violent and uncontrollable, his core self was that of a protecter, and though she didn’t see that exactly, her instincts were telling her that this man was trustworthy. And the Martial Society could never afford to turn away likely candidates. She stood up abruptly at the end of Pulren’s speech and walked over to the door, intending to enter Tyler’s office to take a more active role in the interview.

Tyler, for his part, was well aware of Delia’s gaze and was asking these questions for her benefit as much as his. He was, of course, very careful never to look even remotely in the direction she was situated in. The effectiveness of that hiding spot of course only worked if no one knew it existed. Instead, he kept his gaze trained on Pulren, practically pinning the other man to the chair. His eyes peered into Pulren, as if to dissect him with his eyes and see what he was made of. Lesser men had quailed beneath Tyler’s look, and it was as much a test of Pulren’s mettle as anything else.

--

Tyler raised an eyebrow at the admission that Pulren had bought himself a fine desk as well. ”Yes, it does spruce up an office quite a bit to have a nice centerpiece in the form of your desk, I’ve found. Not that most of the people who come in here even notice.” Taking another sip of his wine, Tyler set it down and then went to pour Pulren another glass. He was interested to see if the former Guard would actually sip it this time, in emulation of Tyler himself, or knock it back as quickly as possible, like a cheap mug at a tavern. There was nothing necessarily wrong with the latter, although Tyler had found that being able to blend in with the upper crust in Zeltiva was never a bad skill. After all, bodyguards were often forced to double as guests, as boring as that duty might sound. Tyler, of course, was born into that life, although he could quaff with the best of them, but many of his subordinates took a long time to polish off their rough edges, and some of them never became more than common thugs who were held in check by the Society’s rigid rules. It remained to be seen whether Tyler could trust Pulren in those particular situations. In a city like Zeltiva, where appearances were everything, the slightest wrong move in polite company could offer an unforgivable offense. And the Martial Society was not so universally loved that it could afford scandals of those sorts. It was sad but true that Tyler had to test not only the fighting prowess of his men but their manners as well. ”Did it manage to travel back with you from Sunberth, perhaps?”

Pulren tried to put his own spin on the night they had first met, and Tyler nearly groaned when the man referred to Tyler as a hero. Certain people might view him that way, true, but he did his best to discourage that sort of behavior in the ranks whenever possible. He was well aware that he was simply a man, as fallible as the rest, albeit slightly more skilled than many. Tyler drummed his fingers on his desk, one of his few nervous habits as he pondered how best to proceed. ”Your two statements are almost mutually exclusive, I’m sorry to say. I couldn’t deal with a threat before it eliminated my crew and those I was defending. If you two hadn’t shown up, I would have cut and run. It was the only option at that point, and no good would have come from getting myself killed as well. However, when you managed to separate the group, I took a sneak attack and killed someone the same way an assassin might. Intelligent, sure, good tactics, definitely, but heroic? Hardly.” Tyler sighed and stilled his fingers. ”No, a hero is someone like my compatriot that night, who rushed the mages after they’d slaughtered most of the people on the ship alone. He died like the rest of them that night. Heroics get people killed.” This world was one of monsters and men, but unlike in the fables of old, when a champion tried to face down the monster in single combat, they died horribly. Tyler had seen too many good men, better than he himself, lost that way. ”As for the smart move, it didn’t exist. Short of jumping overboard, there was no way off that ship. And I’m sure you remember that one of those mages had control over the very waters of that harbor. Jumping in would’ve been a suicide attempt. So I was stuck on that ship with you, and you were my only way out.” Tyler was trying to drum it into Pulren’s head that Tyler’s actions that night hadn’t been anything other than the only course of action, not some selfless attempt to save the other man’s life. That had been a happy outcome, sure, but Tyler’s main objective had been to get himself off that ship in one piece, which is how he’d survived the initial attack by the mages. He still had nightmares where he watched his companions die in ways no man was meant to suffer. ”I do agree though, it’s done. Let bygones be bygones.” Tyler didn’t add that those who didn’t learn from the past were doomed to repeat their mistakes. He didn’t think Pulren would appreciate it after everything else he’d dumped on the man.

Tyler met Pulren stare for stare. Slavery was abhorrent, but it was also a thriving trade with many supporters, some of them even inside Zeltiva. Tyler could understand the urge to stamp it out but he didn’t need a crusader on his watch. ”So, the Wave Guard wasn’t enough for you? Why do you think the Martial Society would be any different?” Tyler’s words had a calculated accusatory edge to them. He was trying to see if he could get a rise out of Pulren. ”Didn’t see enough death and destruction through it hm? Not even on the night we met?” In truth, if Pulren was being honest, Tyler wanted to applaud the man. But that was neither here nor there, since Tyler had to remain objective above all. The Society didn’t have enough clout to enact any real change in Zeltiva, although Tyler was doing his best to change that. The captain tapped his paper once, before speaking again. ”And why did you feel the need to create an alternate persona?” The whole idea was an odd one, especially since it did little to actually conceal Pulren’s identity to anyone who looked at him closely. All in all, it was a strange decision, both the move and his actions there. ”Were you friends with this Markus or this S’essy beforehand? Did you know anything about them? Did you even bother to check if they were telling the truth?” While only an idiot would lie about being a Syliran Knight, especially in Zeltiva where other Knights appeared frequently, it was not unheard of. And Tyler didn’t want anyone who didn’t think before they acted in his company.

At the idea that Sunberth somehow had an effect on men, Tyler showed his first real sign of displeasure as he frowned at Pulren. ”The only thing that changes someone is themselves. Not where they are. We always have a choice. Remember that.” Tyler would not tolerate someone who blamed their madness or actions on something as stupid as a city’s atmosphere. If Pulren truly believed that, he should have left immediately. It was, frankly, a preposterous statement. Tyler had been to Sunberth and knew it was dark and filled with dishonorable men. But he’d come through it with his morals intact. He wasn’t sure the same could be said of Pulren. And as Pulren explained what he saw the Society as, Tyler raised an eyebrow. ”The Guard cultivates discipline. It encourages a protective spirit. If you wanted to do some good with yourself, you should’ve stuck with them.” Leaning forward, Tyler laid both hands on his desk. ”The Martial Society is a mercenary company. Never forget that. We kill people for money. Oh we provide other services as well, but never forget our primary objective.” Tyler paused to let that sink in before continuing. ”Now, I’ll allow that we’re more honorable and much more structured than most mercenaries. And luckily, we’ve got enough money coming in and enough renown that I can afford to be selective with which jobs I choose.” Tyler stood up, allowing the height to lend his words authority. ”I do not tolerate undue violence in my ranks. I, like the Wave Guard, need men who follow orders, and who stick to the contract we have with our employer, however distasteful, and yes, I will say, however shady. I can't risk anyone who might lose their head in a fight. Unnecessary violence is practically the bane of my existence. If you’re looking to avoid battle here or somehow think that it will be all that much different from the Wave Guard, you’ve come to the wrong place. It’s not too late for you to pick up another profession. You’re young and strong enough. Because I will not allow you to stay unless you can remain in control.

As the final word left his lips, the office door opened and Delia slipped in. She began speaking almost immediately. ”Captain, I have that report you asked for.” And indeed, she held papers in her hand. Being an old hand at this particular trick, Tyler waved her forward and took them from her. He gave a gruff introduction as he pretended to look them over. ”Delia, this is Pulren, a potential member of our little cohort. He’s a mage. Delia is our chief wizard here.”

Turning to Pulren, Delia gave him a winning smile, in sharp contrast to the sudden taciturn and closed off Tyler. ”A mage? Oh then we’ll be working closely in the future! Please, show me what you can do.”
Last edited by Orin Fenix on July 20th, 2015, 5:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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[Guest ST] A Guardsman's Request (Pulren)

Postby Pulren Marsh on July 3rd, 2015, 2:33 am

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And like the waves of the Bay, they were pitching back up to friendly scenery with the mention of furniture, something Pulren enjoyed speaking of.Tyler was pouring him another glass of wine, one that the recruit would surely not waste so sloppily as before. He raised it to his host and took a sip of it, placing it back on the desk when he finished. The previous glass had washed away his tension, the sip gave him a bit of warmth in his responses. He had to remember that he could relax here. No one was going to fight him in this room. Well, probably not.

His posture relaxed too, slouching a little in his seat, rolling his ankles. Now he felt sort of ridiculous in his armor, but he had the right intentions anyway. "It did. All of my furniture came back with me. I cherish my bed more than anything. I had spent so many years on hard bunks that when I first stretched out in a proper bed, I thought I may have actually died and floated away somewhere." He chuckled a little, glad to have found a little bit of peace for the moment. It was probably the wine, but it all counted.

He listened as Tyler continued to insist that he was not heroic, that he had not saved Rick nor Pulren and that he was just an assassin, skulking in the shadows. The initial anxiety had been literally spirited away, so he was able to look at it with a cooler head. "Well, I guess the way I remember it and the way you remember the Voyage will always be different. I was so green that the whole thing was a kind of twisted nightmare. I can talk about it now like it was the usual thing, but only after paying some dues over the past four seasons. I get that you don't want to be seen as a hero and that's okay. I realize now that the way I am dressed and my revelations about wanting to be a mercenary because of you probably seem queer. The wine is helping me see the reality of it all. I promise I am not unnaturally interested in you, Tyler. Your appearance may have very well been something that the Gods decided to do in order to change my life." He just shrugged and waited to hear what else was to be said and requested.

Next it was a combination of a kind of prodding about violence and a survey of his use of an alias. Pulren kept his mouth shut until the right time seemed to open for him to respond. Shrugging again, he took a deep breath and replied, "Well, the alias was necessary at the time. I didn't think that Knights could lie but it could very well be a myth. I had been a fisherman's mate to my Uncle for most of my life prior to joining the Wave Guard, so I really only had myself to do any kind of guidance. Sunberth sounded like a proper challenge. Was it more than I expected? Absolutely. The alias would have worked perfectly. I dodn't know the entirety of the Scars was going to leave Sunberth on a boat and everyone be gathered here in my hometown. That, of course, made my alias useless.Sometimes it's easier to kill with another kind of mask on. I am not a madman or anything." He looked over and took another sip of his wine.

The next wave came crashing down as Tyler seemed to take on the role of an angry superior, drumming in the credence and creed of the Society in order for Pulren to understand. He thought that he did understand. He needed the structure and the orders. Wasn't that how he had explained it? Maybe the wine was helping too much."Sir, I do follow orders. I will follow them to the letter. Sometimes my methods are unconventional, but I don't leave a job undone. Do I need to learn more skills so that I am a more well rounded mercenary? Yes. Very much so. That's what money is for. I pay the dues and take the classes. I work when contracts are offered. Other than that, I live my life as best I can. That's what I can offer to you." He thought about another drink, but chose not to partake in it.

A woman strode in easily with some kind of report for Tyler then. Pulren came to attention and then sat up straight. She carried a kind of confidence that Pulren had always found attractive in females. Her appearance didn't hurt either. Chief Wizard That explained the confidence. The description of Pulren as a mage was a little off putting, but he was what he was. He stood from his chair and nodded to her. Before he knew it, he was being instructed to show what he could do. Feeling a little exposed, he thought about it. "Well, I'm barely any kind of Wizard, but I'm happy to give it a go for you." He'd really like to give her a go too, halfheartedly hoping she couldn't read minds. Didn't matter, the wine said, she could tell anyway from his long looks, no doubt. Unbuckling his chestpiece, he slid it over his head, his linen shirt coming next.

"No worries, Delia, I understand your meaning. My Reimancy scar is on my chest, not my hands. His finger traced the angry scar there and he put his right hand out, palm up, as a focal point. Concentrating, the translucent green Res flowed from his chest and rolled down his arm, hovering slightly above the skin though the strange substance actually did seem to roll down like a stone. Once it arrived above his palm, it hovered there as Pulren concentrated, his will solidifying the essence into a round shape, the essence of Earth dominant and swirling inside. Wanting to make an impression, he reached out with his left hand and took the Res in his fingers, pulling it so as to shape the appearing stone into a long pillar-like shape. He could feel a distinct pressure behind his eyes, a kind of pressure that one could compare to a growing sinus headache. He allowed it to form and become solid, gravity causing it to drop into his hand. He handed it to her, rubbing the bridge of his nose thereafter.
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[Guest ST] A Guardsman's Request (Pulren)

Postby Orin Fenix on September 1st, 2015, 4:23 am

OOCApologies for the very long delay. If there's a problem with the post, let me know

As Delia entered the room, she subtly drew the attention to herself. And she was quite the looker, almost statuesque. While Tyler was the leader, she had such a force of personality that she could command just as well and as easily, and only the respect she gave Tyler guaranteed his continued leadership of the Society. Not that he hadn’t earned it many times over. And she knew that a mage leading a group of mercenaries would strike fear into the hearts of many, especially in light of the recent destruction of the College of Djed and the activities of the Asylum inmates that imperiled both Tyler and Pulren and Zeltiva as a whole, mages were viewed in anything but a favorable light. So Delia was welcomed in the upper stratosphere of Zeltiva’s elite, but on sufferance. She knew that not only was Tyler worth following, but also that her continued growth as a mage was only possible through the resources at her command under the Martial Society. So, for now, unless something fundamental changed in the politics of Zeltiva, she would stay exactly where she was.

Tyler for his part was willing to cede the interview to Delia for the time being. As soon as Pulren’s attention slipped away from him to her, he slipped out the door, to make the preparations for the next phase of Pulren’s induction. After testing the man’s morals and magic, there was still much to be discovered about Pulren after his long time away and Tyler intended to drag every bit of information from the man as he could. And that meant once his magical potential had been explored and acknowledged, his physical prowess would be tested. It was good that Pulren had dressed for combat, since Tyler, though he was planning to use practice weapons, was definitely not planning on going easily on the hapless ex-Guardsman. He strode through the building to their armory, gearing himself up and selecting a wooden trident for Pulren, before continuing on to make sure their sparring room was prepared. As he walked, he acknowledged those members on duty or lounging about with a nod or a quiet word. They in turn saluted or nodded back as their nature called them, but always showed respect in their own way. There was obviously a difference in stature but also an easy camaraderie that only came from complete trust. These men would follow Tyler anywhere.

A passing aide had seen Delia enter the office and putting two and two together with the job interview had realized there was likely a mage in there. Magic, in the halls of The Martial Society was nothing new, but it was always a shock when a new mage arrived. Although Pulren hadn’t announced his abilities, Delia’s presence in Tyler’s office sparked a rumor about what this newcomer might know and what he might be. Whispers spread through the corridors and up and down the stairs, leaping from mercenary to mercenary. Though they weren’t gossiping, the members of the Martial Society, one and all, shared information that might save their lives one day. After all, mages were unpredictable and though Delia was good at winnowing out those who would endanger the company, it was always a risk. So when Pulren finally exited the room he might find some sidelong glances, full of either curiosity or distrust, coming his way.

-----

Leaning back in his chair, Tyler gave his own glass of wine a swirl before taking another sip. Pulren was nursing his goblet much more carefully than his last, which Tyler was pleased to see. Perhaps the captain had been reading too much into the situation earlier and the former Wave Guard had just needed a bit of alcohol in his system to steady his nerves. Soldiers and warriors often took a splash of strong liquor before running into battle for the same reason and though Tyler had never had an issue in speaking with others unless the situation was especially tense, he knew many who did. But it was always encouraging to see someone who could, with the proper training, fit into the upper stratosphere of Zeltivan society. Tyler could never get enough agents in high places and though sometimes it was useful to have a brute that no one would expect as a spy, it was equally important to have people on hand who could at least mimic impeccable manners. Though he detested the games he had to play, having grown up with them, Tyler knew the necessity of placing friends in high places, at least in his home city. Other cities were run differently, but they had their own problems and at least Tyler could navigate the murky Zeltivan waters, both the literal and the metaphorical ones. Bringing his attention back to the man before him, Tyler grinned at Pulren’s description of his bed. ”I know the feeling, and I think most of the people here do. After a long job where you can’t choose your lodgings, or a string of bad luck with no pay, or even worse, an outdoor march, coming home to a real, honest to gods and goddesses feather bed feels divine.” Grinning, lost in his own memories, Tyler, sipped his wine and remembered what it felt like to come home at the end of the day, especially after he’d left his father’s life.

However, when they swung back to that fateful night, the grin was wiped off his face. ”Nightmare is right,” Tyler agreed softly. Nothing about that night had gone according to plan and he was still kept up by the faces of his dead friends and those he’d been sworn to protect. Since then he’d been working hard to try and find magical ways to protect his people, but with little success. Short of employing more mages, artifacts to protect against arcane attacks were simply too rare and expensive. So he just had to work on keeping the threats contained as best he could.

At least Pulren seemed to recognize that his actions and words could be seen as innapropriate. While Tyler wasn’t entirely satisfied, he’d let it go for now. ”We’ll have to agree to disagree I’m afraid.” Tilting his head as he examined Pulren, Tyler contemplated how best to reply. ”As long as you don’t hero worship me, I think we’ll be fine. While I need the respect and the loyalty of my subordinates, I also need them to tel me when I’m being foolish and not just parrot my opinions. If that happens, you and I will ahve to have another chat.” Pausing to let his words sink in, Tyler decided that another word of warning was in order. ”And be careful when talking about the gods. Those who attract their attention rarely live long or happily, always pushed or pulled on an agenda not their own. They have glory but also restlessness and heartbreak. Just a friendly word of advice.” He laughed as he thought of his own marks, and how he’d acquired them. It certainly hadn’t been easy and though they were gifts he wouldn’t live without, he couldn’t in good conscience recommend them to anyone.

Scrutinizing Pulren for any dishonesty, Tyler’s eyes narrowed as he took in the story. First, he had to clarify his own statement though. ”I didn’t mean, how did you know a Knight would tell the truth, they’re a pretty honest lot. I meant, how did you know that someone wasn’t posing as a Knight to lure you into some scheme? How did he verify his membership?” Blind faith in anyone wasn’t a good trait to encourage and Tyler wanted Pulren thinking about his actions first and foremost. Drumming his fingers on the desk, Tyler frowned as he contemplated the tale. Something about it all bothered him but he couldn’t put his finger on it exactly. To buy himself some time, he asked about the return trip. ”Why did you all come running back here like something was chasing you? And where did the rest of your crew end up? It was a severe lack in his information network, actually. New players or pawns in Zeltiva should always been checked out, especially coming from the lawless city of Sunberth. However, that was only a momentary worry, since Tyler finally determined his source of anxiety. Speaking carefully, he asked the question he’d wanted to ask since this interview began. ”Pulren, who were you hiding from, other than yourself? People only took on new identities to get away from themselves and their pasts or to hopefully gain anonymity in their new life. Tyler needed to know what Pulren was trying to accomplish before hiring him could sit easily with him. However, at the end of his tirade, Pulren’s words seemed genuine and showed a willingness to work hard to get to where he wanted to be. Tyler nodded once, sharply, showing his acceptance. Although Pulren seemed to be saying what he thought Tyler wanted to hear, that didn’t mean it was wrong in any way. It would do, for now.

Seeing that Pulren’s attention was fully taken up, in more ways than one, by Delia’s entrance, Tyler chuckled under his breath and made his escape. ”Delia, I’ve got some paperwork to deal with. Do you mind...entertaining our guest?” Winking at her, knowing what conclusions Pulren might draw from his choice of words, Tyler eased his way out of the room carefully. Delia was focused on Pulren’s demonstration and waved a hand idly in acknowledgement. She wasn’t one for formality when it came to Tyler and they both knew it. She cocked her head as Pulren shaped the green mist and it solidified into a stone pillar. She took it gingerly and daintily and examined it from all sides. She leaned forward to expose her cleavage, trying to prevent coherent thoughts from forming in his head, before unexpectedly smashing it as hard as she could against Pulren’s now exposed arm. It cracked and she knew the blow would leave a bruise, but she needed to teach him something very important. ”First lesson. Vigilance. Just because there’s a friendly and pretty face nearby doesn’t mean there also isn’t danger. That’s the oldest trick in the book, and it will get you killed one day. I, and many of my colleagues, are beautiful and deadly.” She smiled sweetly at him, just to drive the point home.

Taking the pillar up to her eyes, she noted the imperfections in it. ”Now, I’m guessing you’re inexperienced but this is just sloppy. She sniffed disdainfully. ”Tell me, can you produce Res from anywhere but your chest? If not, start practicing now. I want you to be able to create it any time, any where, under any circumstances. Next, are you capable of producing anything but Earth, any of the other elements or para-elements?” She could almost guess the answer based on what her Auristics was telling her but it was always nice to have a confirmation. She had a long way to go with this one. She sighed, thinking of the work it would be to train him. She knew some of the root cause of his problems, and figured addressing them right off would be the best course of action. She’d been through this many a time with reluctant mages. ”Now, magic is scary, but you have to remember it’s also just a tool. A weapon. Like a sword. Now, a sword in the wrong hands is terrifying but in the right hands can be used for good. It all depends on the man, or,” she laughed, ”the woman wielding it.” Pointing at him, using the pillar almost as a scepter, she went on. ”If a fighter carried a sword at his side, or any weapon for that matter, and didn’t know how to use it, what would you say? You’d think that was foolish. Now, why in the world would you cripple yourself in battle when you have something at your disposal that can and has turned the tides of war.” Leaning back, she slammed the stone onto the desk, hard enough to make a sound but not hard enough to damage it. ”So that’s why, if you join the society, you will practice, every day, until I’m satisfied. Managing to imply that she was expecting it to take a long time, she crossed her arms across her chest and nodded imperiously. ”Now, do it again. And this time, start from your palms.” She had very little time or patience for slow learners, so this, like everything else today, was a test.
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[Guest ST] A Guardsman's Request (Pulren)

Postby Pulren Marsh on October 3rd, 2015, 8:11 am

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While Pulren was feeling a bit more relaxed, he could also tell that he was under some pretty serious scrutiny. The wine was an aid to his calmer process, but he couldn't understand why he was receiving such individual attention. Maybe they had plans for him and saw more in him than he could see in himself. It was all very strange, especially the hot and cold that Tyler was running. One minute he was laughing along like an old buddy, the next he was putting some very serious questions on the table. Pulren could only guess that it was his superior's style and was not something for a young man to guess at so hard. Another sip of wine confirmed his suspicions to let it go.

In most cases, he was finding it easier and smarter to be quiet and just absorb the wisdom being passed on. Being raised by a drunk blowhard made being quiet a natural state, though he didn't want to seem timid. Of course, the tales he told made that seem out of the question, more than likely. When Tyler put the question to him about Markus Andres, he really had to let it sit on his chest for a moment. "Damn. I guess I really wasn't thinking there. I just believed them. My only defense would be that I was still a tried and true Wave Guard who believed that people told the truth. Sunberth educated me.As far as the Scars and our return, we were run out of the city. There were more powerful syndicates who probably saw us as a major threat and plucked us from the soil before we could take root.The day of our departure we literally had to sail for our lives in the face of an angry mob." When asked about where the rest of the crew ended up, he took a sip of his wine, there and then deciding not to give them up. He would be vague while remaining truthful. "Who knows now. The Myrian, Kaie, headed back toward her jungles. The Spider disappeared, as she always did. The Wolf and her lover are in town. They set up a business. Scarred Wolf Investigations. Other than that I really have no idea."

Whether or not Markus and S'Essy were a Knight and his consort or liars, he wouldn't attach them to the group, though they had lived in the Quay with Pulren. As far as Fallon, well, Tyler was no idiot and pledging allegiance to a new flag required some offerings. Besides, with a name like Scarred Wolf Investigations, it would be an insult to assume he wouldn't find out anyway. His last question hit home and hit hard. Pulren finished the wine on it and let it settle like the grapes did in his stomach. "I think that pretty much nails it, Tyler. I guess it was just easier to play roles than actually just be Pulren, a guy I am not so well acquainted with. I'll work on it."

Seeming satisfied for the time being, Tyler excused himself and left Pulren alone with the Chief Wizard and her amazing assets. In almost every other case, this would be a blessing. When she bent over toward him, her breasts were literally heaving so close to his face that he could nearly smell the faint odors of sweat, perfume and natural scents that made the wine so much better. The wine's influence was helpful when the stone he had created came down unexpectedly and hard on Pulren's arm, the pain intense due to its surprise. The world came back into focus and he rubbed his arm, his face turning a bit toward the desire to hurt her back. He knew that would be the last stupid decision he would make, however, and listened instead.

"Vigilance. Right. Believe me, I won't make the mistake of taking my eyes off of you again." His voice had some timber in it, for all the good it would do him. She was right, though. He thought of Zandelia and her ease in sliding a dagger into his ribs or Viper if she had proved to be an assassin. There were many times that Pulren let his balls run things. He would have to try harder to focus on the real tasks and save the split tail for recreation. As he expected, her lesson was one of many and she too began to grill him on his abilities and potential. With a look that turned the anger sour into disappointment in himself, he just shook his head. "Just Earth. Don't use it very often."

This was the point where she instructed Pulren on a very key point that he would have to take to heart/ Just like a weapon or any tactical skill, he would have to practice and train that part of himself as well, daily like all other skills. He hoped that at least one day he would be worth all of the struggle. She also demanded that he produce Res from his palms. Just like that. Of course, if she was the chief Wizard and was determined that not only that he could do it but he would do it, it at least gave Pulren the confidence to give it his best attempt. Under her expecting eyes, he opened his palms flat and up before him, concentrating on the feeling of Res inside of him.

It was a part of him made into the substance and then energy, so it didn't have to come from the scar, logic told him. Sweat began to coat his palms from the anxiety of performing under Delia's watch and he wiped his palms on his pants, putting them back out. Immediately they just became sweaty again, which sparked an idea in his mind. Res could be a liquid, so it could also come out of the pores that exuded sweat. he imagined the stuff moving through his arms, his focus hard and forced as the wine tried to move his eyes back to Delia. It would be a tragedy if he succumbed to his loins then, so Pulren pushed all of his focus into his palms until they began to glisten with the telltale green sheen of Res. The metallic tang on his tongue told him that he was on track, pain also bubbling beneath his skin as his life force was transmuted into the medium for Reimancy.

Turning his palms to face each other, he pushed harder, the Res trailing off of his flesh and seeking the fluid from the other hand, meeting in the middle and collecting into a spinning ball of the stuff. Before he could give himself the opportunity to lose control, he quickly let the elements take hold of it, the green deepening until it became a round ball of stone. When he gasped and released his control, it dropped into his lap. Sweating from everywhere, he picked it up between shaking fingers and offered it to her.
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Pulren Marsh
Your favorite Uncle
 
Posts: 768
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Joined roleplay: March 22nd, 2014, 3:33 am
Location: Syka
Race: Human
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