Closed The Call of the Warrior (Traverse)

[Garta]

11th of Spring, 515 AV
Taloban Military Complex

Garta felt the call as much as she heard it. She could feel the pull towards the army, like it was a part of her. And really, it was. She gave three years of her life to the military out of standards and necessity, but since, she hadn't been able to get it out of her head. It was where she belonged. It afforded her to opportunity to spill blood without having to accidentally bump into it in the forest.

She stood in the middle of the training grounds around mid-day, clothed in her usual attire of a clay-red cropped top, coming down just over her breasts. Her stomach was bare until just below her navel, where her loincloth covered her crotch. Her black and red hair clicked with each shift of weight, the bones and beads woven into it bouncing off each other. The ear-to-ear red gash across her throat was visibly as she held her head high. Her chakram was grasped loosely in her left hand, and she idly twirled it around her index finger.

She surveyed the training grounds for someone who was not embroiled in training or instruction. She approached the person and stood proud in front of him or her.

"I wish to re-enlist in the army."

She stared at the person with a grim determination.

[Traverse]

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The woman that stood before Garta had deep almond skin and her hair was a thick woven tangle of dreadlocks, bits of bone, pottery beads, and shiny unidentifiable shards sticking out here and there. She stood behind a simple wooden table looking over a few pieces of parchment with dates, names, and ranks written into them. To Garta's request she barely glanced up, then took a piece of charcoal.

"Name and clan." Once the information had been given to her she nodded and gestured behind her. "Make your way to the third yard on the left through there. Tiay is looking for a new member of her fang, a few others have come before you."

With that information Garta found herself walking through the always bustling barracks to one of the training yards. The direction the female had pointed her in led to slightly smaller more intimate yards, generally reserved by a Tokoh for them and their fang to train before or after missions.

When Garta found the third on the left and entered only a single female, her skin rather light compared to most Myrians sitting cross legged in the middle of the yard. A long spear sat across her lap, two short swords strapped to each hip.

"Grab your weapons of choice and ready yourself to face me, rekrut." She said in an even tone without turning to acknowledge Garta's presence.
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[Garta]

Garta's face remained blank as the scribe scribbled down her name and clan. Garta of the Slitted Throat. If the warrioress had looked up, she wouldn't have had to ask for the clan. Garta almost let slip a scowl, but she hid it well.

As she walked through the yards, she paid close attention to the other warriors practicing in them. She saw a myriad of weapons and a dazzling array of skills and strategies. She didn't linger too long on any of the scenarios, however. She had business to attend to.

As she reached Tiay's yard, Garta's pace increased. Her heart was racing and her adrenaline was pumping. It was the thrill of the hunt, and she knew it well. She didn't say a word as she approached Tiay, knowing the Tokoh would sense that she was there. Upon being told to ready herself, Garta finally let an emotion through: Happiness. A wide smile broke out across her face, and in an instant, her chakram was in her hand. She twirled it around her forefinger lightly, staying ready to flick it if need be. She bent her knees and nodded.

"Ready."

That was all she said.

[Traverse]

Tiay rose fluidly, the short swords at her sides sliding out smoothly to rest in the palm of either hand. Dark eyes, nearly black, took the merest of ticks to size up her would be challenge and then she took two long loping strides forward and began the attack.

Tiay's first move was simple, but powerful. Her right arm swung up and then down to deliver a powerful strike towards Garta's collar bone, her left hand held her other sword diagonally across her body, hanging there for defense or a second attack. Her feet were splayed, body angled and ready for whatever this new rekrut would throw at her.

If Garta took a moment to notice, a small gathering of individuals were peeking through a set of open windows behind the yard. A couple arms slid out to lean on sills and watch the show. Most likely these people were all under Tiay.e
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