The First Step (Persona)

[Giph]

6th of fall Giph was gathering his courage as he walked through the streets of ravok, his destination firmly in his mind. The silver sliver, he didn't know much about his father, as he was nearly always absent in his life, but one of the few things he knew of his father was that after his shift he usually went to the silver sliver to drink with a few of his colleagues and as far as he gathered it was one of the best taverns in the city, so he didn't doubt there would be at least one ebonstryfe that was getting a drink there. Before he entered the bar he took a deep breath and reminded himself about what he was here to do. He was here to talk to one of the ebonstryfe to see how he would be able to join the organization himself, and he wasn't going to leave without an answer to that question. He walked inside the tarvern, nobody looked up from their mugs or shot an easy joke about him being not of drinking age. The young man let his gaze sweep over the crowd, almost immediately spotting a black haired man wearing the signature black brigandine armor emblazoned with the symbol of the all to familiar emblem of the organization? Giph didn't dare to hesitate and walked over, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the same table. The black haired man just looked at him over at the rim of his pint, the two grey eyes boring into him. “My name is giph.” Giph said in a determined tone. “I want to join the ebonstryfe.” He made his intentions clear.

[Persona]

The man stared at Giph blankly for a moment, wondering why his drink had been interrupted. At hearing Giph's reason, he burst out laughing, drunkenly spraying ale all over Giph's face. "You? A little pipsqueak like you, join the 'stryfe?" He guffawed cruelly, thumping the table with his heavy fist, with a banging sound that drew the attention of the nearby tables. The rest of the tavern was noisy enough that it did not seem terribly out of place, but subtle looks passed among the barmaids, and one of them slipped quietly outside. The man seemed to be calming down. He took another generous swig of ale, and looked in some surprise at Giph. "What, you're still here? Don't tell me you were serious! Listen kid, being in the Ebonstryfe isn't all drinking and wenching. Sometimes you do actually have to kill things." He gave Giph what he probably thought was a serious look, but came off kind of dopey. "I mean, you have to be able to kill things, get what I mean? Someone scrawny like you would be better off, I dunno..." He looked around for inspiration, but all he could see were barmaids, "serving drinks!" Thinking the matter settled, he finished off the rest of his pint and loudly ordered another from the barmaid.

[Giph]

Giph gritted his teeth in restrained anger as the ebonstryfe mocked his short length and made a fool out of himself acting like a young child that had a case of the hysterics. This was one of the ebonstryfe he looked up towards so much, he really hoped he was one of the outliers of the order and not the norm. Giph just weathered the man's insults, his idiotic look and his horribly uncreative ways to try to get him to leave. “Look, I know that whoring and drinking should be the thing you need to do the least when you are a member of the ebonstryfe. And those things aren't why I am going to join anyway.” Giph made it clear that he was going to join and wasn't going to get pushed away by his antic's. At his comment of killing things and following it up with the fact he wasn't able to kill things in the first place he looked the bearded man straight in the face. “If rhysol demands it I would even kill my own mother.” Giph said in a heated tone as the man just took another sip of his drink. Leaving the fact she was already dead out of it, it was the thought that counted. “Besides I have jet to see anybody stand up from a crossbow bolt to the chest. No matter how scrawny the person who fired it is.” Giph shot back for that comment of him being unable to kill anything. The man in front of him didn't need to know that he still wasn't that good a shot. Just needed to know that he could use it.

[Persona]

The Ebonstryfe man was getting either frustrated or drunk--it was hard to tell. "Look kid," he slurred, waving his mug about dramatically, "a crosshbowsh not gonna do you any good if ya hafta fight up closhe, shee? Ya hafta hit folksh too..." Some of the swings came dangerously close to whacking Giph in the face, though fortunately the drunk man was not difficult to dodge. He looked like he was about to continue speaking, but abruptly his jaw went slack as his eyes focused with some trepidation on something behind Giph. The tavern had quieted down, not to complete silence, but voices were lowered. The Ebonstryfe man stood up hastily, knocking over his chair in the process. "C-Commander! I-I was jusht..." A cold, quiet voice cut him off. "It disturbs me that one of my apprentices has been behaving so badly that I must be repeatedly hear of his misdeeds from a tavern wench. I would not normally begrudge my apprentice his...leisure activities, but when messengers come requesting that I deal with you, it reflects badly on me and on the honor of the Ebonstryfe. Furthermore, if I am not mistaken, you were due to begin patrols over a bell ago. Have you anything to say in your defense, Denger, or shall I deal with your punishment immediately?" The drunk had gone white as a sheet, and he began spluttering excuses and stammering lies in a desperate attempt to save his own skin. "It's n-not my fault! This kid was pestering me! I woulda started my rounds on time, but he kept sayin' as how he wanted to get into the Ebonstryfe, and uh... I uh... I didn't want rifraff like him gettin' any ideas, see? and ruining the glorioius name of the Ebonstryfe and whatnot." Everyone in the tavern who bothered to pay attention knew full well that the boy had only just arrived, and even his commander seemed unimpressed with his excuses. The commander was a tall, thin man whose black armor contrasted eerily with his pale skin. His face seemed unused to expressing emotion of any kind, except possibly disappointment, and his gaze gave the impression that he was literally staring daggers. He glanced sharply at Giph, studying him for a moment before telling Denger in clipped tones, "Begin your patrols." Denger leaped to obey, eager to get out from under the gaze of his commander. "Oh, and Denger, I advise you not to disappoint me again." When the drunk apprentice had gone, the Ebonstryfe returned his attention to Giph, raiosing a sardonic eyebrow. "So, you wish to join the Ebonstryfe, do you? I hope your choice to approach Denger was an accident and not because he exemplified your ideas of what the Ebonstryfe is about." Conversation in the tavern had begun to return to normal levels, but nearby eyes were still on the Ebonstryfe and Giph. Seeming to notice this, the man pursed his lips and said, "Walk with me. I dislike taverns." With a sweeping motion, he turned on his heel and strode elegantly out of the tavern, seeming not to notice or care whether Giph was following or not. WOnce he was away from the noise of the Sliver, he began speaking, not bothering to look down at Giph. "No doubt Denger gave the impression that an Ebonstryfe is little more than a privileged thug. I cannot seem to rid him of the notion that brute strength is the scale on which worth is measured. Ability in combat is, of course, essential, for it is our duty to spread the word of Rhysol by force if necessary. But what Denger fails to understand is that fighting ability can be trained, while certain other qualities are inherent." Abruptly, he stopped walking and looked straight at Giph. "Tell me boy, why do you want to join the Ebonstryfe?"