Furry-Within

The Moon rose high over the walls of the kingdom, shining silver down into the Bazaar. It never slept, it dies down each evening at sunset but it finds life still in the night. They say the most valuable merchants are in the work at night.

The King was dressed as a commoner this night, he wanted to search out something important, and the best way was to not be seen as himself. He slipped past the merchants that held shop at night, to a small door that looked as if it lead into a tavern that was lit by only a single candle at the moment. Once inside, he traveled to the back, a small room with a woman in red sitting near the candle. She rose and embraced him tightly and he held her, they stared into each other for a long moment before he finally spoke. "I've heard he's come of age . . . and wishes to be named . . . ."

She looked down slowly slipping away from him and sat at the table the candle was on. "He wants his heritage . . . and I can't stop him . . . I'm his mother but I'm common . . . you're the one that has to say it, she'd kill him my love she'd-"

"Stop . . . she won't kill my son . . . full born or not. He may be a bastard, but he's my bastard. He'll live . . . but, he won't be royal, is he here?" He looked around the room, and the girl shook her head. "He's headed into the Keep, he likes to talk to the guards at the tavern at night. They tell him stories when he buys them mead." He nodded "I'll see to it tomorrow that he's entered to the Myrzar . . . it's the best I can do for him."


As the conversation came to a close, a man walked past, he looked in, seeing the King and some woman at the table, no longer talking and was certain he must be imagining things. He wanted to stay, to find out, but he left convinced if he stayed something would bad would happen. Outside he looked up to see the moon, and gave a small salute, praising Luna in his silent way. Another man approached, both of them in thick black armor and the approaching man smiled and said "Lord Captain, didn't know you had a taste for low born women . . ." The Lord Captain grinned at him and they moved off toward the Keep.

Inside the Keep they headed to the tavern and both sat, the bastard was there once more begging for tales and the men were happy to oblige, as well as greeting him on his entrance. "Lord Captain! good to see you once more!" the portly tender said, a man of thick vulpine features, it always confused the Lord Captain, the man was the first Vulpine he'd ever seen that was fat . . . and this man was not simply fat, he was huge. But he made the mead himself, and it was spectacular. He got himself a mug of mead and drained it quickly, the next morning there would be things that needed doing, new recruits to train, new orders to hand out. Problems to be dealt with.

He didn't want tomorrow to happen, but the Mead was warm as ever and it filled his belly like the best food one could get in the Bazaar. The night dragged on in the Tavern, the stories started to die down and the mead started to dry up, the Lord Captain said good night to the men that chose to be awake and went up the stairs to his Quarters in the Keep. The Scholar was in his quarters waiting for him, wanting things to be started now, but he told him to wait at least until sunrise before it all started.

 He listened with rapt attention at the gory stories these men told. The little panther simply sat there listening to tales of old as if his life depended on it. Those lightning blue eyes almost gleamed with excitement as the soldiers told there tales of bravery and valor.  Oh!! how he would give his life for such a chance. Instead of working the fields, or doing meaningless labor. oh!! for a chance of glory! His thick crimson hair, his mothers birthright tied as neatly as he could in a warriors braid.
  He knew as a bastard he could not own lands, hold tittles, But like every man he could command men. Build his fathers empire! The very thought made his heart beat faster in his chest.  Every once and a while his  hand's would stray to the wooden training sword he had strapped to his back.
  A thick soft wistful little sigh escaped his lips as he day dreamed about glory. He spent his last hard earned pence for just one more sword training tip. when the lord general walked in. He watched as the man drank, hoping one day that other furs would look at him like that.
   Finally, as the night drew to a close he took his sword and his dreams swinging the overly large wooden sword with ease. fine muscle and sinew rippled underneath his ratty black fur, hard earned muscle from hard labor. He imagined Slaying his imaginary foes. Until he arrived home. Where he knew a mundane existence awaited him.
  For a long moment he sat on the steps of his humble muddy home, looking at the muddy shit ridding streets. His father didn't want him... his life a meaningless existence.
   After all it was his 14 naming day, a day that should be celebrated. But with what little they had, he knew he was getting nothing. His stomach growled in hunger, something all to common around the lower class. A soft little wistful sigh escaped his lips as he took a bit of stale bread to his bed.  Pulling up his blanket full of holes, finishing his bread he simply lay there.
    oh... to be a high born... His eyes filled with tears as he wept silently for himself. To being poor, hungry... and hopeless.... when he finally drifted of to sleep, clutching his wooden sword tightly in his hands.

The Lord Captain was up after only 3 hours of sleep, as always. His head filled with the images from his sleep, the voices from his past. He never was proud of his men telling that boy stories how they did. Like it was something to be proud of that they'd taken a man's life. The lad was so enraptured by the stories of war and honor . . . if only he knew. That's when the Scholar walked in, not caring to knock, the old man knew the Lord Captain too well to think he'd interrupt anything. He came in holding his large ledger, and told the Lord Captain of the day's chores, new recruits had to be gathered, and the names and locations were ready for him. All that was left was the ceremony known as "the Gathering." A sort of hazing where they woke the new guards from their beds long before sunrise, a mimic to the harsh nights of war or long patrols through dark woods where anything might try to steal your life when you sleep.

He rose from his bed, dressing as he listen to the old man speak and then the old man helped him don his black Myrzar armor and cloak. "Thank you Maester Cummins, are the men ready for the Gathering?" The old Scholar nodded to him as the Lord Captain moved to his personal armory, arming himself with his daggers, short sword and the Black Rose Blade, a huge sword that he wore over his back like the warriors of legend. "Of course Lord Captain Mikkaddo, there is one of particular interest . . . the King's Bastard, I've heard he's strong as the walls of this keep, and he's taken more advice from your men than they have from you, he should prove most useful I would think." The Lord Captain let out a long sigh, of course the Bastard . . . it had to be him. He shook his head and said "well, let it be done . . . gather the guard and let's rouse the children from their beds and make them men we can be proud to call brothers."

He waited in the common room while the guards armored and readied themselves, it was barely 4 in the morning, the sun would not rise for another 4 hours at least, and the recruits would all be sleeping soundly in their beds, believing that they would be called out after their breakfast to the Keep for the ceremony. He gave the guards each the names and locations they needed to go to, and reserved the bastard for himself. This lad would require someone that hadn't already bonded with the lad.

He could still see the moon above the walls, that was good, it made the light bright enough to see the street with. The King's Bastard lived in one of the lower sections of the Capital City, even so far toward the walls you could still see the castle. And he found the home, carefully opening the door and entering in perfect silence before he found the boy's bedroom. He stood in the doorway . . . what squalor, what putrid filth this boy slept in . . . it reminded the man of his own youth. He smacked his fist against the wall screaming at the boy. "AWAKEN NOW! THE TIME HAS COME FOR YOUR LIFE TO CHANGE! STAND UP LAD OR GIVE IN AND LIVE IN SHIT TILL YOU DIE!" a bit harsh perhaps, but he had no intention to let this boy live easy . . . if he was to become a Myrzar, then the Lord Captain would make damned sure this boy earned his spot with his own blood sweat and tears.

He never jumped so hard in his life! His mind barely co-errant as his body jumped on its own. His thick wooden sword clattering to the ground. His body getting entangled with his blanket as he fell to the floor with a loud thump. Oh the screaming! what was making all that noise, His brain still foggy with sleep. he could barely make out words.
   "Lord general"?? His eyes slowly came into focus, as he awoke standing there. what was he doing here?..
      Barely understanding what was going on, until it dawned on him. Today was the gathering. He was being chosen? The shock of it made him wide awake. Any trace of sleep left his body almost in an instant as he stood up straighter. Simply staring at the lord general. He had heard about the Gathering but had no idea what happened next?

The Lord Captain slapped him across the face and yelled. "No, it's Lord CAPTAIN, remember that from here on, as I won't remind you again . . . gather your clothes and follow me to the Keep, but leave the toy sword . . . you shan't be needing it anymore." He could see the shock still filling the boy's eyes, there was nothing quite like the Gathering, no two recruits treated it the same, but all were shocked when roused from their beds in the middle of their sleeping nights.

He gave the boy time to dress and prepare himself, and was waiting outside, no one was around. That was good, The Gathering was common, it was the only way they took in new recruits, but it was still something of a secret . . . the last thing he needed was some merchant spotting it and telling the entire kingdom. There'd be no secrets left to the Order. As he waited he wondered if the boy was truly ready, he was of the proper age certainly, but that doesn't mean he's ready to sell his life, his body indeed his very soul to the kingdom. it was so much more than simply an oath . . . the boy would need to be strong, need to be tested . . . and Lord Captain Mikkaddo would see to it that the boy was tested . . . personally.

The blow to the face made his vision blurr for a long moment. His face still stung as he pulled himself together. Now fully awake, he listened closely to The lord Captain. Restraining himself from rubbing his sore cheek.
  His words sent him in a scurry, pulling on his pants and shirt. Looking around the room. Though he didn't really own any possessions. Only his prized wooden sword, Almost longingly he put it on his bed. Leaving the house hold with only the clothes on his back.
    He stood again awkwardly, recalling what the soldiers have said.
back Straight, head leveled, Arms to the side, feet slightly apart. Knee's bent so your legs don't get tired.
  "Lord Captain.."
Fist to heart in salute, eyes looking past at nothing.

The Lord Captain nodded to the boy, pacing back and forth in front of him and looking him up and down. "You know your name boy?" he was wondering if the boy had been given any name. Around the castle, the few times the boy would ever be mentioned it was either in whispers or otherwise not openly. Never called by name, only referred to as "the bastard" or "the King's bastard."

The Sky above them crackled and flashed above them, the thunder screaming at them as the black clouds in the night sky gathered, then it began to rain, narrow freezing drops slicing down into the mud around them and the roofs of the buildings they stood near. The boy would likely be freezing once it really started to come down. Good, he needed to learn to withstand anything . . . in the Guard there were times when a man would be sent so far north the ice would frost over, something that was almost impossible to describe to a person but impressive in sight. He looked up, seeing the moon touching the wall, right near them . . . it was getting closer, right now in his quarters in the keep he bet he could see the sun rising far off in the distance past the Capital City.

He drew a nervous breath.
   "Yes lord Captain"
  He didn't say anymore, not wanting to get slapped again. he felt the cool breeze of a coming storm. The crack of lightning, The feel of freezing rain on his clothes and fur. It stung his face. Yet he made no move.
Flex the muscles to keep from shivering, keep your arms tight to your side to keep your body heat close.

He looked the boy and and down once more in the freezing rain. Then he said to him, with the water dripping off of his black fur "you don't have it anymore, starting this instant, until you've earned your armor, your name is Bastard. Is that Understood Bastard?"

Without waiting for him to respond the Lord Captain pointed toward the Keep. "Run . . . now, make it to the Castle before sunrise and I'll consider allowing you to be one of us, RUN." And once the boy went off in the rain and mud, the Lord Captain followed, letting the boy run ahead of him at first, then letting out a long breath and running past him, making certain the lad saw the weapons, the armor, the thick heavy cloak that was covered in rain, and the huge sword on his back. Weighing him down with the weight of his body at least once over on top of his natural weight and he was running past the boy like it was nothing.

 His lips moved to reply, His brow starting to furrow in anger. But the choice wasn't his own. It was anger that made him run, Hate for the lord Captain that made his mind focus intently on the task at hand. The Cold rain all but forgotten.
  His bare paws splashing mud and rain water out of the way. Determined to be a better man then his captain.
  I'll be a better man then you are Captain...
     It wasn't long until he heard the clanking of armor. of sword case on steel breastplate. He looked to see his captain run past him. In full armor none the less!! Oh he was fast. But he was determined not to give up.
  It was almost a mile from here to the castle. His chest heaving, legs burning. For at least a little while he managed to keep pace with the captain, but slowly Mikk drew ahead of him. His claws clenched as he snarled. Not willing to give up.
  fuck you... fuck you... fucking motherfucker
    That sharp hate of his spurred him onward as he pushed past his limit. Determined to out run him. For a little while he kept abreast. as his tiredness wore on. Only the task at hand.  One of the soldier's tip came to him in that moment of clarity.
  you have to out think your enemy, no matter who they might be.
He knew ahead that the streets got closer together, more winding.. turning. But a barrel gave him the opportunity.. If he could just make it!
  The roofs here where relatively flat, With all his strength he leaped upon the barrel. Jumping his hand reaching out for the Inn keepers sign. His claws dug into it as he began to slip. It was shear luck alone that kept him in place. Scurrying upwards he was soon on the roof. From here it was a near straight run. But the lord general was already ahead of him.
  I'll fucking show you...
With that he raced onwards. Running and leaping from roof top to roof top. Slowly catching up with the lord general.  Finally matching his pace, But the Castle walls drew near. Like him others where already racing there. His chest burned as he gasped for breath.  Running out of roof space, He didn't think. He just did, Leaping into nothingness. His arms and legs spread wide on instinct. Until he hit the ground, luck be with him. The mud and filthy rain water took much of his fall. Staggering slightly  as he was now side by side with the lord general.
Determined to make it there first he pushed harder, dug into what little he had left. Crossing the drawbridge not even a nose ahead of the Lord Captain.

They reached the end of the run at the courtyard where the battle training was performed, all around them exhausted men and panting soldiers, the soldiers were all in full armor, clad from foot to head with metal and leather and chain, their swords shining in the rain and the moonlight. The boy was damned fast, and clever . . . that was good, he'd need it. But Mikkaddo wondered if he could last . . . if he could survive the next part of the entrance. Mikkaddo turned himself quickly, sliding in the slick mud of the training yard and came to a stop, panting slowly. And when the boy came to a stop it was Mikkaddo's arm reaching out and wrapping around him to force him to stop while standing still.

"Stop breathing . . . push it all out, empty yourself and refuse it . . . then, at your own pace let it back in . . . never let your breath control you. Control it Bastard . . . you're going to need your breath for what's next." He nodded to the other soldiers and directed the Bastard to stand with the rest, just one more exhausted sore body in the group, Mikkaddo stood in front of them, the other Myrzar gathering around him and looked at them all in the pale moonlight, the silver orb shifting down to meet the walls. It wasn't time yet . . . there were still a few soldiers and recruits making their way to them. This boy though . . . if he could survive the next part he would earn his place among them, and would be so much closer to earning his name.

Having been woken up from her sleep in a similar manner to the bastard she wasn't too far behind them as she raced through the gates while breathing steadily through her nose.  Though, her fur was standing on end and her eyes looked around with apprehension.  She wasn't aware of her master releasing her from service to join the guard, which had been her life's ambition since she was just a little kit but she had been to afraid to ask questions when the guard had appeared in her door frame and demanded that she be dressed and at the castle as quick as she could.  She had no possessions aside from the rags she was wearing, but she did have some basic training from a master of archery, she hadn't finished her training but he allowed her to train with him if she finished all her tasks on time.

The tabby cat was very lean, practically no body fat despite the strict kindness of her master who treated her better than most slaver owners.  Unsure of what to do as she had to wait for the soldier to catch up or maybe someone else would be giving her orders.  Her heart raced as she felt uncomfortable with the uncertainty of not knowing what to do and her ears flattened against her head, making her look particularly funny with rain flattened fur, as she stood very still and off to the side but not so far out of the way that she'd be completely unnoticed because she wanted answers so she knew what was going on.

The Rain was picking up and Lord Captain Mikkaddo paced from side to side in front of the new recruits. These were to be the guards . . . children, spoiled high born brats, a bastard . . . and a girl? this was most certainly new. The first woman to be in the guard, and a feline none the less? He gave a long sigh, this would be a hard career indeed.

He stopped at a distance between them all, looking from side to side. "You disgust me . . ." he said to them all, spitting into the mud, he wanted them all to hear it. "You disgust the order . . . as I see it now, not a single FUCKING one of you deserves entry . . . so . . . we need to test you, we need to find out which of you are really filthy children, and which ones had a future ahead of them in the Order.

"We've a test to find out which of you deserves the armor . . . and to see which of you will crawl home in the mud and rain . . . you!" he pointed at the girl, "and you" and pointed at one of the other ensigns, a canine about a head taller than her, "Both of you come here, you're going to battle . . . and the one that is left standing . . . will get to move on." This would be the test . . . the first test. He wanted to see how this girl could fight.

Her eyes widened at the captain's approach and she shrunk back a bit from his harsh words.  The feline didn't hide herself from view but she stood somewhat behind someone so she wouldn't be seen first.  Her tactic didn't work though, but she should have known that she'd be singled out, despite her small breasts she was clearly feminine and she'd never seen a female in the myrzar before.

She swallowed hard as she stepped forward, her determination far exceeding her fear.  When she saw the size of the boy she was to face her imagination was, at least, able to stop running rampant.  She took some deep breaths in order to calm her heart down as the tabby stepped into what she guessed was the fighting area and spread her feet in order to appear braced for an attack with her fists up in the fighting stance that her master had taught her.

The thought of her master brought a twinge of guilt and fear to her gut, as she still had no idea what was happening right now, but she kept her focus on the fight ahead, her eyes never leaving the other male selected by the captain.

He watched in silence, lined up with all the other furs of various sizes. All of them have been chosen, Some he knew. Other's he did not He stood straight dripping with rain. Slowly catching his breath.
  But when the first two where chosen for combat, it truly surprised him. She couldn't have been much older than he was, Still her frame didn't tell him much about what she could do. A slight smile played on his lips, wiping it off before anyone else could see.
    He couldn't understand why the others where chuckling at her, as the guards made there bets. There size and stature where pretty close. It made him watch closer. he knew what it felt like to be different.  It only angered him as they underestimated her.
  Silently he rooted for her, hoping she would make it pass what ever trails awaited them.

(Forgive me if this is off, it's been perhaps far too long)

He was tired, that much was a given. His limbs felt like heavy, lead extensions of his body, and it felt like sheer determination was the only thing keeping him both awake, and simply standing. He just had to get in, he just had to be accepted-- but there was no guarantee to it all. For all he knew, the lead had been a lie, something to make him leave and travel all the way here-- but he had made his decision then.

Of course, that meant people not catching onto why he was here. Which is what led him to Feldor so many years ago. He'd snuck his way in as a child, and found himself on the doorstep of a lowly couple. While they weren't impoverished, they were certainly in the lower end of middle-class; but because of the wife's inability to have children, they took him in. He resembled the canines close enough-- the father being a dark brown and black furred shepherd and the mother being a snow-white wolf, it sort of made sense to have a son that was a sort of smoky gray colour. It also helped his case that he looked like some sort of shepherd-wolf hybrid, so no one ever really game him flak for it.

He stood easily a head taller than most of the others here, and travelling had left his body lean and slender; but he was neither bony nor skinny, just bereft of excess weight. He scratched at his sides, his clothes dirty and worn, but not ragged.

[A fight?] He thought, biting back a snarl. Weren't the Myrzar above this kind of thing? True, they had to be tested-- this wasn't the place for the weak. But did he really have to endure this sort of barbarianism?

His breath hitched slightly as he felt the cold touch of metal on his chest, and he knew. He'd get through anything they threw at him. All to see if the rumor was true.

She saw the larger male approach her with an overconfident smirk.  He wore more well-to-do clothes than she, he was at least in the middle class and he had a real sword at his hip that he removed and passed off to a guard.  His booted feet slopped through the mud as he approached, his jowls raised in an amused snarl at her.  He also got into position across from her until one of the guards started them off.

The large canine lunged at her but he bare feet gripped the moist earth with sharp claws as she held herself still until the last moment where she stepped fluidly to the side while avoiding his flailing arm as he tried to grab her.  The lack of expected impact caused the young man to stumble so the feline brought her fist down sharply to the base of his skull.  The impact sent the male sprawling to the laughing and jeering of their peers.

He got back up quicker than she expected and swung his massive fist at her blindly which catches her hip as she tried, too late, to get out of the way.  She managed to stay on her feet though as he finally stood up tall and she kept her distance.  He was pissed off now as their peers encouraged him, but he already felt the shame from those who called out insults and profanity at him.  It was the laughter that really got to him.

She would feel bad for him if he hadn't come in so cocky but it was too late for any of that now as he rushed back at her.  This time he meant to grab her and both his arms were extended outwards.  She wouldn't get away with the same trick again this time.  When he got close enough she took a chance and kneed him directly on the chin.  His head flung back from the impact as he fell again to the floor, this time taking her with him.

Fear clutched her heart as she felt herself falling, she untangled herself from his arms and the torso that rested on her legs and stood up as quickly as she could, it was only once she was standing did she realize that he wasn't moving.  Uncomfortably she looked around, fearing that she'd gone too far.

Most of the guards were just laughing and mumbling to each other, saying who knows what about their fight. Almost all of the recruits were cheering her own now that the man wasn't moving. The Lord Captain though was just standing stone still, the water pooling and falling off out of his arms as he stared them both down. Then he looked to one of the guards, who nodded and pulled the unconscious boy away.

He looked at two more recruits, nodding them to the yard and pointing the winner to the guards. The next two recruits were both young men, they'd been trained up for the Guard and were both sure they would get in. Their fight took longer than the fight with the feline, but they were both brawlers, smacking and punching each other hard in the chest and arms. It dragged on until they were both covered in mud so thick it was impossible to know what color their fur was and the winner held his opponent in a choke hold until he passed out. The Lord Captain was still not moving, not showing emotion, just nodded the winner away and nodded the loser out. It kept going, cutting the number of recruits in half swiftly . . . only a few left. There was one in particular he was interested in other than the King's Bastard, a wolf sheppard hybrid that he scarcely recognized. He knew the Capital City was huge, but someone of such a unique breed was hard to miss. He pointed at the hybrid and then one of the other new recruits, and waited for their fight, extremely interested to see how this shady character performed.

[So, I'm finally up am I?] He thought, as he looked over at his opponent. Obviously the youth before him had WANTED to join the guards in this way-- he was bulked out, and sneered over at him with a victorious smile. "You're pitting me against THIS piece of trash? Consider me recruited." The large dog said, spitting at the ground. The hybrid grit his teeth, and just glared at the other male. [I'm gonna wipe that smirk right off your damn ugly mug.]

In truth, he wasn't really a fighter. In a contest of brute strength, the canine before him (a rottweiler? He wasn't too good with breeds) would easily make him feel the hurt. And never having much experience in fights beforehand, he didn't have the honed reflexes or the fast movements that seasoned fighters did. At face value, the odds were definitely stacked against him.

The larger canine knew this, and figured he'd end things before they even started. As soon as both had given the ready signal, the bigger male lunged forward with a speed that surprised the outsider. He barely had a chance to take a step back and brace himself when his assailant was already in melee range, a hefty arm swinging for his head.

[Slow. I'm too slow!] He thought to himself, knowing full well that he couldn't avoid the powerful swing. Instead, he brought his arms up and leaned his body away, bringing his head down and shoulder up. If he couldn't duck quick enough, at least he was smart enough to know to have a more sound part of his body absorb the blow. [That's the only way I can win this. With any luck, this mutt's just some dumb brute and I'll get a chance to outwit him.]

Staggering, the hybrid stepped away from the muscled dog a couple times to gain some distance, and hopefully some time to think out a strategy. His arm and shoulder shot up in pain, [But if it hurts that much, think of what would have happened if he'd hit me straight on...] He mused. He watched as the large male set in on him again, and his eyes widened as he began to watch the other's movements intently. While the canine was fast, he was undoubtedly untrained; his steps seemed haphazard and unfocused, not like a real fighter. The larger canine was pushing every bit of effort and strength he could into his movements-- which wasn't a fault, but without control it was just sheer strength being flailed around wildly.

[That's it! I remember hearing about a fighting style that uses your opponent's inertia and strength against them...] And though he wasn't trained in it, the base thought applied. This dog here was focusing all he had into unrefined movement, and the hybrid had to monopolize on that one fact. [Closer... closer... come on ya big lug!]

He watched as another one of those meaty fists came flying at him, but this time he was ready. He let the other canine continue the punch-- let him commit, and then suddenly swerved out of the way. Taking a grip on the dog's wrist and upper arm, the hybrid shoved his shoulder into the larger opponent's armpit, crouched down, and then used his legs as a lever. It helped that because the other male was so big and strong, it was hard for the other to stop moving so quickly-- and with a swift, almost eerily graceful movement, the hybrid flipped the dog over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground as hard as he could.

[There!] In a matter of sheer seconds, the hybrid had gone from being on the ropes to having flattened his opponent. And while he knew there'd be little chance he'd be able to do this against a seasoned fighter, he had to take a small bit of pride in having been able to figure out that sort of tactic so quickly. Still, he couldn't let up-- he quickly pounced on the other dog and began to beat him into submission; if he let the larger dog get up he probably wouldn't get a chance like this again. [Take that you dumb sack of meat! Who's recruited now, huh?] Blow after blow landed on the canine's face, who was too stunned from the throw to do much other than try and bring his arms up to shield his head, which only left his body open to the concentrated attacks.

He continued with the punches, his arms growing tired and his fists getting sore from pounding into the other dog, only stopping when guards had to pull him off of the canine. Heaving breaths, he calmed down, watching as his opponent shakily got to his feet, welts already forming on his muzzle. The larger dog stumbled back, falling unceremoniously into the mud, and shook his head. "I give! I give!"

The Lord Captain was disgusted with this particular fight. The man gave up . . . he approached the loser himself this time, picking him up out of the mud and making sure that everyone understood in no uncertain terms what he thought of the man. Some of the guards seemed almost scared at the show the Lord Captain gave, hoisting the man up and throwing him past the draw bridge that led to the training yard back into the mud in the commons of the city.

Then he slowly stepped back toward the recruits and guards, pointing at the King's Bastard and smiling viciously. "Now the Bastard gets to prove himself worthy . . . to enter the first step of entry into the Order of the Myrzar." He pulled the huge sword off of his back, handing it to one of his guards, taking off the cloak next, and slowly removing most all of his armor except the chain mail pants under his greaves. He came into the open center of the yard, pointing at the Bastard and saying "let's see what you can do Bastard . . . against me."

He hesitated, what the fuck? why does everyone else get to fight a peer.
  His eyes looked around watching the jeering soldiers. Some grinning. others simply watching with a disapproval frown. By now the cold soaked him to the bone. Leaving him shivering from the cold.
  It couldn't be helped, he wasn't gonna give this up with out a fight. If the lord captain wanted him out so bad he'd have to kill him!!
  He moved to stand across the way from the lord captain. His legs slightly pressed outwards, His fist held as the soldiers taught him in the bar. Trying once more to summon the knowledge he was imparted with.
  when facing an opponent bigger than you. wait till he makes the first move. Study his stance...
  His eyes moved up the lord captain body searching for an opening.
  When the time is right.. strike.. never keep your hands still, it gives your enemy a chance to focus
His hands slowly moved left and right, trying to get his already sore and cold body moving.  Those cool blue eyes watching the lord general.

The Lord Captain watched him carefully, maybe all those stories he'd listened to in the tavern had sunk in. He moved his arms, his chest and his legs slowly around, and when the time came, he moved with the same speed as he had in his armor in the race. Closing the distance between them in less than a flash, forcing a strike to his chest so fast and hard a small shockwave of rain came off the man as his fist moved to him. The Lord Captain was waiting in his head, thinking now it starts . . . he won't go down easy, I've made sure of that . . . if he's as good as he seems, this will only begin it. Come on Bastard . . . catch it, I dare you . . .

Gods!! he was fast, the speed of the lord captain caught him off guard.
  That hard hammerous fist of his caught him straight in the chest. He felt the air leave his lungs as the solid hit connected.  His teeth gritted as he felt his ribs crack to the pressure.
  Cripple your opponent first, if he can't move he can't fight.
A growl escaped the young panthers lips.
      never let him see it coming..
His right hand drew back as he punched, His left foot fallowing aiming for the knee Hoping to hobble the lord captain.
              Never back down. the first moment of weakness will always be your down fall.
  He did just that, Pushing forward into the lord general. His fist moving with his feet at the same time. Throwing punch after punch, Stepping forward he didn't stop but continued forward.

He had a moment of doubt, he saw them both and had to judge which was the "real" hit. One was the hi the Bastard was hoping would truly hit home, but which one? the punch to his chest? That could easily blow the air out of his lungs, and exhaust him in one blow. Or the hit to his knee? Which would knock him into the mud and give the boy a perfect shot at his back.

He judged wrong and tried to block the blow to his chest, getting hit in the knee and feeling his leg buckle. He could see the mud coming up to him when the words of his own former master came to his head. Never judge yourself on the last hit, look at what is coming next instead, if they knock you down roll past and trip them, take them down with you and you're both on the same level. He was going down, there was no doubts about that at all, but as he came down to the mud he swung his leg around, spinning and throwing the strike at the Bastard's legs hoping to trip him. If he could trip the Bastard, it'd be done in almost a single strike. If not . . . the Bastard just might have a chance.

There was just a moment as his front snap kick connected. A surge of wonder made him pause for a moment. That itself was his mistake. He never saw it common.
  Mikk's leg connected solidly with his own. sending him backwards into the mud. His head hitting before the rest of his body. The air leaving his lungs in long long Audible
"Auuufffff"
     Arashi dragged himself to his feet. His legs shivering from the contact. Those cracked ribs of his throbbing in his chest.

The Lord Captain could see the Bastard was on his feet again already, the problem his Master had always told him, was that even if you knock them down, sometimes they might just get back up before you. This Bastard was good . . . he thought that first hit would be all it took, he could hear the familiar "snap" of the Bastard's ribs, at least 3 of them by his ears. But he was still fighting . . . he had that fire in him.

The Lord Captain rose to his feet, staring the Bastard Down, then he started, an ancient process he'd learned in a place he'd never speak of now. The air around them would shift slightly, nothing visible, but something you could feel. As soon as his arms came down the other Guards would start backing up in perfect silence, the Recruits looking around nervous and then quickly moving with them. Then, the silence was broken for only an instant, lightning struck down, down into the yard where the Lord Captain's sword had been put, shining bright white light on him and all over the Yard, the Lord Captain's body seeming to glow and grow in size in the light. He almost appeared to have more arms, and huge wings on his back, and he let one punch go, directly forward at the Bastard, a spear of air shooting hard for the Bastard's chest. It wouldn't be impossible to dodge it, but the effort robbed the Lord Captain of his energy for the fight and he fell to his knees. One of his hands gripping mud so tightly it was audibly squeezing out aruond his fingers as he panted hard.

What the fuck?? What the fuck??
   Never before did he see such raw display of power? Leaving him awestruck.. frozen in place. His mind unable to comprehend what was going on? Before he knew or could start to understand what was happening he was sent tumbling through the air. Crashing into the stone wall  with a loud crack. His back and head hitting it with a loud audible thud.
  His body like a rag flopped to the muddy ground....
Everyone stood in shocked silence for a long moment. Thinking that the lord captain had killed one of his new recruits!!
     That was until the panther moved, Pushing himself up with one arm. His  right hand hung limply at his side. Blood and mud oozed from his head and lips, coughing as more blood made its way pass his lips. His legs shaky but he managed to pull himself to a stand.
  Some of the new recruits gasped as he took his first step towards the lord Captain. He managed a few more before his legs gave out and fell on his face. The panthers voice croaked in pain.
  "I...won't... go back" he repeated over and over. Forcing himself to his feet. Stumbling to the left and right.
That muddy crimson hair clinging to his body. His eyes hidden as he forced himself to make his way to the lord captain. Swaying unsteadily on his feet, until he was in range. His jaws clenching.
    "You'll... have to.. kill me first.."
His left hand curled into a fist as he drew back, summoning what little energy he had left.Fighting to keep conscious. But it was just to much, his body went into shock mid punch. His left connected to the lord captain, but with no more force than a light playful slap.
  The panther thudded to the ground as unconsciousness finally claimed him.

The Lord Captain was still panting hard, the hit landed alright, right on his head, barely a strike at all . . . but before the Bastard hit the mud, the Lord Captain caught him, and slowly stood, one of the other guards came up, a guard wearing a white emblem next to the sigil of the Myrzar. "Make sure he doesn't die . . ." Mikkaddo said. When he could stand, he kept panting, holding himself up on one of the other guards, and then moved to the spot the Bastard had landed in from the hit. He touched the spot where the body had been, and another layer of thick stone crumbled and fell. He turned back around and nodded. One of the guards was heard saying near the recruits "how the fuck did he survive that . . . that should have killed him if it hit!" The rest of the guards started to whisper to each other, saying that the Bastard had to be on par with the Lord Captain now.


Mikkaddo looked at the rest of the recruits, and shook his head, then the guards and shook his head again. He looked at the Losers, and then the majority of the recruits, those that had already fought and won. "Throw the unworthy back to their homes . . . the winners and the rest are part of our Order now." Then he slowly and silently pushed off of the guard that he was leaning on, grabbed his sword and used it like a walking stick, hobbling into the Keep, blood trailing from massive cuts all over his body, some unseen voice in the crowd of recruits and guards saying whatever he'd done it tore his muscles open. Obviously whatever it was, it was powerful . . . not the kind of thing just anyone would be capable of.

She watched the fights, the unspoken question still tugging and choking in his throat.  There were a few people that caught her eye with their fighting skills, the sheppard and wolf hybrid seemed to be using the same fighting style as she which would be fun.  Maybe they could train together.  Hand to hand and archery were her specialties and maybe they could trade tricks with each other.

None of the other fights interested her except the last one with Mikkado and the cute panther.  He did really well, but she felt no sadness that his injuries were extremely substantial.  He'd live or not live and it would make little difference to her as such were the ways of life.  Unsure what to do she looked around with her eyes asking her unanswered question, hoping that someone would come to finally answer her.

Once in the Keep, the Scholar took over, the recruits that were not hurt but had made it into the Order, they were moved to a large feasting hall in the Keep, several long tables covered with food, bread meat and wine. There were large fireplaces that lit the huge room with oranges and reds and yellows. The Scholar waited until they were all seated before speaking.

He put down a huge tome on the table, and opened it, then approached what was a sort of stage to the side of the tables and spoke up to them all, the Guards quieting down first, followed by the rest slowly. "You have all been accepted into a mighty order . . . your families, your prejudices all no longer matter. Whatever your family's name once was . . . it is now Myrzar. You are the Guardians of the royal family, of the kingdom . . . this honor is greater than any you would likely reach otherwise." The Scholar lifted his arms to the sides and looked across them all. "Enjoy this meal . . . it is a feast in your honor as you are now truly guardians, truly . . . Myrzar.



The Healers of the Keep were frightening women and men. All of them mutes, their vocal cords cut out to keep their power contained, their eyes sown shut to amplify their sight through the energy around them. They stalked from bed to bed wrapping the wounded warriors in bandages soaked with energy and chemicals, sewing shut the wounds that were too big to close on their own. The Lord captain was badly wounded, having fallen to the floor as soon as he made it to the room. The Healers had moved him to a bed though, and had sown up all his wounds and were bandaging him up. His eyes seeming to be unwilling to open though he was most certainly alive still.


The Scholar stalked through the room now, still speaking "You are all now part of the Order of the Myrzar, you are all honored guests of the Royal Family in this Castle. We share their home so that we may be ever close to guard them from the dangers of the world around them. The armor the guards wear is the most obvious mark of their place. You will not be ranked so long as you have no armor and no weapon. Each of you . . . you will learn many things under us, to read and write . . . to fight with a weapon and your body, magic . . . the kind you cannot imagine as of yet, and of course to smith. You will smith your armor yourself, and your weapon. This will make them all the more powerful in your hands. Will make you all the more worthy."

He found himself in a sort of daze, mostly just ignoring everything that was going by after his fight. He found himself sitting at the tables, nestled with other recruits. He didn't really have the appetite to eat as heartily as the others were around him, instead too focused on taking in his surroundings. He began to commit the layout of the Keep to memory; it'd serve useful later. Especially if he wanted to keep the charade up.

His ears perked when he caught what the scholar said about permissions. So long as he wore the armor and weapons,  he would have rank? That meant if he made his way up through the ranks, people would eventually not question him. This had to be a sign. He'd have to bide his time, and grit his teeth, if all to get to the right place, at the right time.

Still, for now, he was going to use this time as a time of rest. This was his first, big step. Everything seemed to be falling into place, now.

They silently paced around the medical room, the Healers, their sewn shut eyes and throats the mark of their job. They saw through magic, healing the wounds of the guards, recruits and the Lord Captain through their strange sight. The Bastard however was different, one of them had taken over the head healer to the Bastard's bed and showed her . . . the Bastard was different. In their sight he was a black figure, almost no details to his form. All things had magical energy, even the smallest insects had a trace that could be seen by the Healers, but this Bastard . . . the King's Bastard, was blank. Nothing in him. They argued in their twisted silence for moments about how to handle him.

Finally the Head Healer took to him, covering his chest with a thin oil, it illuminated the details of his body carefully with magical energy, this allowed her to see the wounds, as she worked on his wounds, his ribs, the cuts and infections, and the damage to his lungs some of the other healers gathered around him, they were concerned about her working on a blank figure. They had never seen such a person before. The Scholar would need to see this man, see what they had seen . . . and the Lord Captain would need to know as well.

The Lord Captain soon woke up, long before the Bastard was healed and found to be a blank figure. He argued with one of the Healers, his body wrapped mostly in bandages, splotches of blood covering him and the stitches showing all over. He pushed his way out of the medical room, moving to the Feasting Hall, still in his greaves, leaving a small trail of blood behind him still. His breathing was hard and he waited until the Scholar was finished talking to the new Recruits before entering and taking his place at the head of the table. He ate in perfect silence, drinking down the wine, his body is a twisted and blood covered form, hard wheezing breaths taken in and out. He looked from recruit to recruit, wondering which ones would succeed, and which ones would fail. At least half of these people would die in pain and agony.

The harsh reality of the Myrzar, it was an image of being a calm and possibly complacent guard patrolling the city. The idea most had of the Myrzar was just to catch cutpurses and attempted murderers and punish them. But in fact, the Myrzar more often spies, assassin's and what the Lord Captain personally called the "Sentinel Squad" a group of advanced Myrzar who trained so hard at battle mastery that no one could face them down. The Lord Captain himself had been a Sentinel long ago, and if anything, he would train up the Bastard after he survived that hit. The Hybrid was still in his eyes, he knew something was wrong with the boy. He didn't look like he belonged in the Kingdom, perhaps the Lord Captain would get a chance soon to find out.

Sat in silence and seclusion from the boys.  She may have bested one of them, but she was still a girl.  In truth the feline preferred that as she took small bites.  She didn't touch the choice dishes as she didn't feel as if it were her place, instead she ate the less fancy meats and cheeses.

In the end she ate very little, only eating enough to keep her from starving for sitting with her head bowed in reflection though her ears swiveled and followed the movement and conversation around her.

He didn't like how the Lord Captain was eyeballing him, but he ignored it pretending he didn't even register those eyes trained on him. He just had to prove his worth-- to get to a point where no one could question him. It was going to be a long road, but he figured that he at least had the determination to do it, if nothing else. He couldn't let anything stop him, not after getting this far. He just had to find--

"Hey! Nice goin out there! You were that guy that flipped the huge brute over and started wailing, right?" He heard, from down the table. His ears perked and he looked over, giving a surprised nod. "Man, that was some good shit. You pounded the shit out of his face. Good on ya." He forced a smile, but easily made it look genuine. "What's yer name, man? I gotta tell people not to mess with you."

He paused, still remembering he was being watched. But it didn't matter at this point. All traces led back to that couple, who took him in. He'd made sure of it. "Ormr." He said, his voice a soft, but resonant tenor. "Just call me Ormr."

 Panic was all he knew when he awoke in a strange place, In a strange bed.
   he was instantly awake, His head moved back and fourth as he checked his surroundings. It took a long moment before he figured out where he was, It took even longer for him to remember what happened the day before. How long as he been out? Why did they even bother to save his life?
His fingers touched his ribs, they where all broken the night before? By all rights he should be dead. Injuries like this often spelled death, or at least crippling a fur month's at a time.
  What was the point of living? He knew he failed, what was the point of returning to that shit hole of a life? There really was no point in going on.
He stared out the window, ignoring his hunger. He felt greasy, unclean and worse...A failure. His one shot at changing his star's gone.
His jaws clenched, as he made his way to the door. Quietly slipping out, maybe if he got to the fields he wouldn't loose a days pay. His eye's looked around. unable to figure out where he was. Slowly he simply wandered around. looking for a way out.

One of the Guards patrolling the halls found the King's Bastard and caught him by the shoulder. "Oi, recruits are supposed to be in the training yard, what the hell are you doing in the halls? get down there now!" and pointed out the window down to the crowds of recruits, still in their normal clothes fighting each other with blunted metal weapons and wooden shields, others shooting arrows at targets shaped like people.

The Lord Captain paced along the yard, watching each recruit in their stations, that morning he had asked them what they did best, and assigned them to things similar and promised they would train the opposite just as hard. "A True Myrzar is no stronger than their weakest quality" he reminded them again. "Neglect nothing in your training or you're as good as dead. The woman from before was proving to be a talented one with a bow, and the rest were showing themselves to be worth their time too. Even the ones that hadn't actually fought, he was still heavily bandaged, and one could see the blood dripping down out of the few crevices in his armor as he paced. As good a job as the Healers did, he was still bleeding. this group looks to be training up fine . . . the hard part is picking out which ones will be right for the team . . . he thought, looking over them all once more.

He looked at the guard incredulously. his head turned from the yard to the guard and back again.
  "Sorry sir, you must have me confused? I lost my combat initiation. Are you sure your referring to me?"
   A spark of hope playing in his eyes for a long moment.
     

She also did well enough in hand to hand combat but she was weak in all other areas as she'd never been trained in anything else.

The Guard pointed him toward a doorway leading to a set of stairs and said. "Not my place to know . . . you're here, so obviously you're in . . . get to the yard or you WILL be out." The Guard then patrolled off down the hall, turning back to look at the Bastard every so many steps.

Down in the yard, the Lord Captain was still pacing past the recruits. watching them all work against each other and against the training dummies. He was curious how the recruits would shape up when the time came for the choosing of the small team. It would be interesting . . . seeing how they react to that offer. Great job on training, by the way I want you to come with me to be part of a sort of death squad . . . oh don't worry, it only sounds bad. He shook his head, laughing softly at the thought while he kept pacing.

This had been potentially his first mistake. When he'd been asked what he did best, he couldn't find an answer-- and thus had been sent to perform every sort of training until they found what he was good at.

Tired, but still determined, he was now training in using a sword and shield. He went at it with gusto, mimicking moves he'd seen the instructors teach with ease, but not with the same effectiveness. If anything, he was a quick learner and could potentially do just about anything required, but needed the time to hone a particular skill in order to make it usable.

It dawned on him, in the middle of training, what he should be doing. As his opponent came crashing down upon him, swords locked, an idea struck him to use his shield as an offensive tool, and not solely a defensive one. He pushed off and gave his opponent a firm smack with the wooden guard, throwing the other off balance. He used the opportunity to lay it into the other, stopping at the instructor's cue.

"Quick thinking there, Ormr." His instructor said. He nodded, heaving breaths. The hybrid wasn't exactly physically built to be doing this sort of thing for long, and he was glad he was able to seize the advantage. [Seize the advantage?] He thought, the idea sparking within him.

As soon as he was able to get out of his training gear, he began to work with tacticians and field advisors. It soon became apparent that Ormr had a knack for assessing a situation and devising strategies to deal with it. Which required he also have practical knowledge of the various troops involved in a type of combat, so he couldn't slack on his physical training either.

The instructor for the field advisors watched him carefully as he worked with the map and figures, he called over the Lord Captain to watch too, but to watch someone else, while the Hybrid was of interest, the feline was also interesting, she seemed capable of taking down much larger opponents without a weapon. The Lord Captain nodded and moved closer to where she was, watching her style carefully. She was trained . . . likely by someone small similar to herself. Someone who knew how to fight very well, she was not a razor edge with her skills yet, but she was no blunted blade either. He thought carefully that he may have the first member of the team in line. If she could fight with a dagger half as well as she could with her fists, she'd be perfect. Perhaps she was acrobatic enough even to sneak . . . hmm.

"yessir"
   That little smile played on his lips, perhaps the gods are kind after all.
His smile faded when he saw the lord Captain, on instinct alone he moved across the field. Starting with the area furthest away.
   His fingers ran along the racks of blunted steel swords. Getting a feel for them he hefted one. and then another, the weight itself was very close to his wooden sword. there where so many of them! It was hard to choose!
Short sword, longsword, scimitars, bastard swords, daggers and dirks.  A frown played on his lips first. Unsure which to choose.
  He looked around first strapping on some practice armor.
      Well... theres only one way to find out...
he pulled a couple of sword belts strapping one of each to his body. Getting the feel of it. Trying to decide, when one of the instructors caught him.
   "You There! what do you think your doing?"
  The panther jumped.
       "I.." Was all he got when he was shoved into the training ring.
  " You get in the ring with him"!
      The panther looked across the way as another boy with a longsword stepped into the ring. He Swallowed rather hard, after all it was a rather large boy.
      "Start"!
  With that it began, the boy swinging his sword before the panther was even close to ready. The panther turned. Catching the sword against the sheath, His fingers by himself drew the closest sword. A single swipe he disarmed the boy. His other reaching for the curved blade across the back braining the poor guy.
  For a moment the instructor was silent. "Oh so you think your a walking sword stand do you! you, you and you" He picked out three more boys sending them against the panther.
  Again the panther did the same thing, spinning and drawing swords. Throwing others, until all three where down. This  enraged the instructor.
  " oh so we got a show off, Alright then class after him"!!
  The whole class paused for a moment, but it was one wolf who spoke out.
           "But thats not fair"
  "Fine then, you can be on his team. Class surround them"
      The panther found himself back to back with the wolf. 12 students surrounding them.
   The panther knew he could not cover all his angles, he spoke softly to the wolf.
  "Stay back to back with me.."
          His wolf partner only grunted his reply.
  When they came he was a whirling dervish of blades, Parrying on instinct swirling around his wolf partner, covering his ends  as they moved around each other. The panthers natural instinct kept him out of the way of his partner. Just somehow knowing where his partner would be.
   The battle itself took less than a couple of minutes, but it felt like forever. His armor dented in more than one place. he stood there breathing heavily.
  The instructor moved in trembling slightly as he grabbed the panther by the ear. hauling him to the lord captain.

The Lord Captain was now sitting on a sort of cushion at the edge of the yard, laughing softly with a strangely long pipe between two fingers. A small trail of white smoke leading up from it, twisting in the air and filling the space around him with a strange scent like cinnamon. "Problem old man? you look like you're not satisfied with your new student." He chuckled softly as the man threw the bastard at his feet. "He thinks he's the best . . . well I think maybe you should show him what he really is Lord Captain! prove to him how little he's really worth."

The Lord Captain shook his head and took a long silent drag on the pipe, slowly letting out a fog of smoke around his face that obscured his features. "If the Bastard has proved better than your class . . . I'd say you're slipping in your training." He chuckled softly, small puffs of smoke coming from his nostrils and mouth with each tiny laugh. "Maybe if you focused more on the students' talents rather than your own . . . like her . . ." he pointed to the sole recruit who was female, on the other side of the yard. "If my eyes weren't lying to me . . . and I know they were not, she took down two of young Moristan's students who were both 4 years her senior." The old Instructor was still mad, glaring daggers down at the panther.

He hit the ground rather hard.
    why is it everywhere i go, trouble fallows?
He spoke quietly. keeping his eyes on the ground.
        "Thats not true lord captain, I was just trying on swords to see what fits best..."
He could feel his face heating up, The feel of the instructor's eyes burning into the side of his head.

The Lord Captain exhaled another long breath of the white smoke, causing a slight haze that seemed to make the glaring instructor sound distant, and the Lord Captain put a hand on the Panther's chin, the two of them looking to be alone in a white fog. "Don't bother with him . . . he's mad at your father . . . I tell you what . . . you're proving to be everything I've heard . . . go down there, to old Morristan, tell him I sent you . . . he'll treat you as hard as I would, but at least he'll know the difference between you and your father." He let go of the Panther's chin, the fog gone, just the smoke obscuring his features as he looked at the Instructor and said "he's not in your class regardless . . . so take the belt, and the swords from him and the rest is up to his real instructor . . ." The Instructor next to the Bastard was clenching his fists tightly, like he was trying to hold in a scream. "Is there a problem . . . if you like, we can resolve it in the ring . . . like we did the night you gathered me from my home before the moon had escaped the thick clouds." The Instructor seemed almost shaken by the reference to the past, he grew silent and took the belt and swords from the Bastard and moved off to his students again, grumbling and smacked the wolf that had stood at the Bastard's back.

The Instructor watching the hand to hand matches was proud of the feline, she was not the normal kind of recruit they had, she was a woman in fact. Tiny too . . . but she was skilled, she'd already taken down two of her fellow students who were both 4 years older than her. And now he was looking for something to really test her.

He listened with rapt attention, Something about the lord Captain caught his attention.
my father?
   He knew very little about the man, only that he held some sort of important tittle. What ever it was, he was protected from it because his name was not even like his fathers.
  He had his mothers name, and a bastards last name. He took a deep breath, the smell of what ever he was smoking was slightly soothing. Calming his nervous anxiety.
     As short of a time he was here, he was starting to get the feel of the place. The images of Myzar that had formed in his head now shattered and scattered to the far winds.  Already most of the recruits stayed away from him. The tension around him where ever he went felt thick, So much so that he could cut it with a knife.
   Still he had his instruction's to fallow.Walking and watching as he Watched the one they called "Ormr" Admiring his prowess, As well as the only female to get in do her work.
  It wouldn't hurt to have friends like them, Strong, determined.  Wondering the yard for a while he looked for the one Called "Morristan". Though it didn't take long for him to find the old instructor. He stood back, watching the old man teach what little students he actually had. Puzzled slightly by the way he taught his class. From what little he had scene there didn't seem to be any set form or function in his teaching. Not that he had any right to judge the instructor.
  Finally seeing his opening he stepped forward speaking softly.
    "Instructor? The Lord Captain has assigned me to your class. I was sent to find you and inform you that the Lord Captain has sent me".

It didn't seem to matter much whether her attackers used weapons or not, the feline was consistently victorious against those she was pitted against.  Her trainer was less unkind as he was pitting her against more and more advanced attackers as if she were climbing a ladder of skill.  She was struggling to hold her own now as older and advanced recruits swung at her.

Her fur was blooded and matted in some areas but to look at her you'd think she hadn't sustained a scratch and that her muscles weren't screaming in pain with every movement.  The feline's face was calm and serene, not betraying a stray thought or emotion.  Her ears flicked in order to hear every sound that their was to hear from her opponent and if anyone was sneaking up behind her, which happened at least once.  She didn't hope or dream for a break, she didn't even think of one.

She just kept going.

Morristan was very proud of the girl, she was facing off against recruits that had trained for years under the Myrzar and was succeeding, she'd not lost a single match yet to his eyes. He clapped his hands when her match was finished and called her over to the bench to sit and have some water. So she could watch while some of the other recruits fought. "Very good, now sit . . . one of the most important lessons a Myrzar can learn . . . is to take in what others are capable of . . . these men will be your brothers. You must know their strengths and weaknesses or you'll never be able to help them nor they you when the time comes." Then he heard the Bastard come to him, he turned and looked at the boy. "Ahh . . . yes, the Bastard, so the Lord Captain wants me to train you? alright . . . get in the ring, let's see what you can do shall we?" He called over one of the other recruits who was unarmed and watching him closely. The Recruit came into the ring, grinning and got ready.

She nodded as she was finally allowed to sit.  She clutched a bit too tightly on a skin of water that had been produced, her claws still extended, but she was careful not to puncture the bladder.  She was very tired but she refused to yawn as she carefully watched the next fight begin with that panther who had fought the Lord Captain.  He didn't look to be in such great shape after the fight yesterday but no matter the injury one could still fight.

He looked into the ring. Shit!! more hand to hand???
  A soft little growl escaped his lips, This was something he didn't really train for.
he started to make his way to the ring. Stopping a short moment as he Touched the only other feline that was here.
  Gently he patted her on the shoulder. "Looking good out there, glad your on our side".
He didn't wait for a response, not wanting to draw trouble her way.
   Letting out a deep breath, he let it out slowly. Again moving his hands, never keeping them still.
      Thus the fight began, The fight itself was long. But it was clear the Wolf had more training then the panther. The panther himself was out classed, It seemed sheer willpower alone kept him getting up time and time again.
    The panthers movement's where a little stiff, he kept at it for as long as his body would. Each time he was knocked down he got back up, no matter how vicious the blow he took. But it was clear on the long run who the victor would be.

"Did you get that?" Ormr nodded. "Good. He has a point. You need to know the strengths and weaknesses of your allies, in order to know what plans will work, and what won't." His instructor said, as they walked past the training areas. He felt a little spoilt in comparison to the others-- while everyone else seemed to be training near-constantly, here he was taking breaks in between his physical training to speak with strategisers and tacticians. His mind, though, felt like it was about to explode; he was being instructed (or more like forced) to learn as much as he could about anything he witnessed here.

"Go ahead. Onto your next training set." His instructor told him, as they approached another sparring ring. Weapon combat-- something he wasn't too keen on, but had to learn nonetheless. He felt even less confident when his opponent stepped into the ring, wielding a rather large two-handed mace. He gulped, and just shucked on his training leathers, though he doubted they'd do much against the blunt weapon, and began to quickly go over the information in his mind.

[Blunt weapon... two handed.. heavy end... meaning lots of forceful swings and motions, but somewhat slow and--] His thoughts were interrupted as the fight started, and that mace came whizzing down at him. He ducked to the side, heading that thunderous 'THUMP' the head of the mace made into the ground, his eyes widening. [Holy shit!]

The Lord Captain was pleased. The recruits were proving their worth in the rings and around the tables, things were looking up. He moved to the first of the instructors, looking toward the recruits and then back to him and started whispering. He pointed vaguely toward the feline, the only girl in the recruits, and the Instructor nodded. Then he was off to the next one.

He came to the instructor the Bastard was under, and grinned watching the fight, he was tempted to say something . . . but thought better of it. He'd wounded the bastard enough already, and before their careers were done he'd end up hurting him  a lot more through his service. He whispered still, to the instructor just as he had with the rest. Again pointing vaguely toward the ring. Then moved on once again.

He finally came to the tacticians, and whispered a conversation to the instructors, apparently the hybrid was talented at putting troops in the way of his opponents, flanking them without the opponent knowing. He had a talent for it, and for dodging strikes from enemies. The Instructor says he seemed to calculate the foe's moves in the instant they are performed, he could use someone like that . . . he made sure the instructor knew that. By tonight he'd be dining with a small group in a special room, telling them they're going to put their lives on the line from morning to evening each day . . . possibly killing hundreds of people a year.

The morning and afternoon went on like that, The first few hours where torture as they pushed him through hand to hand, Finally moving up through various weapons to test his prowess.
  But like is hand to hand, his spear work, shield work, bow work.Where almost all Amateur at best.
All but his bladed skill work  was exceptional. Progressing pretty quickly it was almost clear what his style was. The blades in his hands moved almost like water, an extension of himself. When he held a blade.. any blade he felt as if the whole world faded into nothing. All that mattered where the blades in his hands, and his opponent in front of him.
  Finally when the instructor was satisfied he was allowed to rest. His thick fur covered in sweat. His body smelling like a primal savage, But it felt good.
  But the news of a his dinner taking else ware and not in the common area with everyone else disturbed him a little.
  He took a bucket of water, drinking deeply as he moved around to watch. His two picks seemed to do very well. The only female, and the one they called "Ormr" watching the fight against the other trainee with the mace for a short while.
   Dinner was fast approaching, Wanting to get cleaned up he inquired about that. Until they pointed him out to a small lake for that purpose.
   It didn't take him long, nor did he want to linger in the frigged waters. He was quick to dress and dry before heading to where he needed to be. Standing outside that door for a long long moment...

Her clothes were barely still capable of clinging to her body as she approached the lake.  Arashi didn't notice her as she slunk over to the shallows a kilometer or so out of his way to ensure that she wouldn't be seen as she peeled the rags very slowly off of her body.  First she submerged herself in the frigid lake just enough so that when she was crouched her shoulders were wet.  She loathed the feeling even as the blood left her matted fur.  She took a bit longer to groom than others as she wanted to make sure that she didn't appear wounded as she arrived for dinner.  After her body was clean she shook herself off and set to work rinsing the rags very carefully so she had something to wear to the private dinner she was informed about.

Finally she was ready and she walked back, he fur drying as she ran swiftly to the location she was instructed off and managed to arrive without being too late.

He was tired, dead tired, after everything he'd been through. It felt like he'd been training for a good week or so, and his body ached with pains that hadn't dared surface in his life with the couple. Not to mention that mace-wielding brute had landed a couple good hits to his ribs. He winced as he placed a hand to them-- the healers promised him that they were fine, but he felt broken and battered inside despite it all.

Still, he felt proud after today. It wasn't like any of the information wasn't being retained-- he could run over any scenario against any of the people he'd fought today, and was able to pick out what had worked, what didn't, and what he'd need to do better, or work on. He was about to head back to the hall to eat with everyone else when one of the trainers had stopped him.

"Ah, Ormr was it? Come, come." His tactical instructor told him, as he found himself being led off elsewhere. He didn't quite understand, but he was too tired to complain. When he found himself standing amongst a small group of the recruits from the whole, he turned to ask his question but his trainer was gone. He looked back again. The King's bastard was there, and so was that feline. Both of them had been doing extremely well in their training-- there had been whispers of it going around. So what were they all doing here?

A guard soon approached the gathered group and opened the door near them and motioned for them to go inside. The room beyond them was a small dining room with a few top officers standing around near a long banquet table covered in food just like the first night they had been there. Unlike the normal food during training it was fresh, brand new and carefully crafted cuisine, not simply salted meats, hard breads and thick mead.

Mikkaddo was with the officers and nodded as they spoke, then the Officers all left and he followed them to the door. Closing it behind the recruits that had been led here. He silently walked to his seat at the table and sat down. Then, looking at the recruits said "Please . . . take your seats at my table . . . you are to join something special . . . you are all Myrzar, your training has proved that . . . but now, you are beyond simply a Myrzar. I will take you on missions . . . and you will be something else entirely."

he looked about at the banquet set out before them. The smells of it lingering int he air. Yet, there was something about it not quite right. A feeling of foreboding perhaps?
    Only kings ate this way, But it had a feeling as if this may be his last meal. He listened like the rest of them. Picking a seat opposite of the lord Captain on the far end of the table. Yet he didn't touch any food. Not quite yet, Out of all those in the yard, those he sized up. Only the strongest where here.  Both hands tucked in his lap, a thousand question played through his head.
   It is only a bad soldier that question's his Captain.
  That bit of advice ran through his head, What ever it was.. It must be for the good of the realm. At least that's what he hoped anyways. He watched the others as he took a bit of fresh bread. Slowly chewing it, he took his time. Waiting for the lord captain to elaborate more.. As was bound to happen. The others must be curious as well... He'd bide his time and wait for them to start asking.

He'd never eaten anything this fancy before. The mere sight of it made him feel somewhat overwhelmed by its presence. He wasn't about to complain about it; his stomach rumbled hungrily at the sight before him. Still--

He sat himself down, and blinked. Something else? He took a good look around and began to take a mental inventory. The only people here weren't just those who were doing well in their respective fields, but who were excelling. Separation from the main group, high class treatment, meeting with the Lord Captain himself?

This had to be a joke. A trick. Or it was real. There was far, far more running behind the scenes than he knew. And it all fell into place. Those rumors, the leads-- could he have been part of this as well?

She spent a very long moment at the door in hesitation.  The feline was in a new environment with new rules and she was uncomfortable having to guess at what the correct thing to do was.  Her heart raced as she firmly took a step forward and when no one stopped her she sat at the closest chair in a few quick fluid motions.  She didn't touch the food though as she just looked at her lord captain with an expressionless face.

The only sign of the feline's anxiety was her tail that entwined itself thoroughly around the chair that she sat on.  Her nostrils didn't even twitch as the delicious scents filled it nor did her eyes blink unnecessarily.  She just waited as if her brain was completely void of all thoughts.

They were not all eating yet, well it was a strange situation to put them in. "All of you need to eat . . . and get used to it, this is the food you will be eating from now on. As a Myrzar, you are the guardians of the Royalty and the people of this Kingdom. As one of my operatives, you will be going to other countries. Look upon your comrades, you are more than Myrzar now . . . as of now, you are all officially Banners. Warriors, Assassins, and otherwise talented individuals that are sent into the fogs of war . . ."

He grinned at them, taking a large goblet, "The Soldiers are sent to battle . . . we are sent to the castles . . . where the soldiers kill each other, we work behind the scenes to make sure as few of them die as possible." He looked across them,  "A Tactician . . . who will be able to study the movements of people in the other kingdoms, a woman, lithe and agile, able to move almost without a sound . . . to make certain we are not heard." He turned once more. "And of course . . . the King's Bastard . . . able to withstand anything that is thrown at him." He chuckled darkly, "The three of you . . . are my Banners, and the four of us . . . will work to end every war that threatens Asrath, or that she ends up in.

Banners? He'd never heard of this before-- but then again he figured that it was probably intentional. The part about travelling around worried him, though he didn't show it on his face. If he were to ever go back...

"Lord Captain." He piped in, simply nodding his acceptance. "Are we the only Banners? What happened to the last ones?" He figured it was a good as question as any, and his stomach growled again. He looked down at the foot, and figured that was that. If that was the food they were going to eat, he wasn't going to put it to waste-- with cutlery in hand began to eat as polite as he knew how, though it was obvious he was making a great effort to do so.

She didn't waste much time once he'd told her that she'd been able to eat so she did.  Her ears flicked around to catch any sounds but otherwise it would appear that her whole attention was focused on the food.  Her small frame didn't allow her to eat much but of what she did eat was almost entirely protein with just a bit of carbs in order to allow her muscles to recuperate while giving her body the endurance it would need until she was able to eat again.

The food tasted delicious, she'd start out with her paws until her eyes trailed over to Ormr and then the cutlery.  She could fight...but she had no idea how to use the objects in relation to her food.  Graceless as she was ever going to look she did her best to mimic how the others were using the tools.  Her cheeks flamed red under her fur as embarrassment and shame flooded through her.  It looked so simple, but she kept fumbling and dropping them until she was finally full.  Her ears pinned back as she looked down at her plate once she was done.

He let them do the talking, Ormr talk. He wasn't really the talkative one either. Mostly sat there in uncomfortable silence.  what glory did soldiers who stayed in castles get? It puzzled him, and saddened him to know he would not be setting foot in the battlefield.
  He took another bit of bread, stuffing it with cheese and a little meat. It was all he ate, Finding that eating to much made you tired and lazy, but a little hunger kept you sharp and awake.
  He had 2 more just like that, drinking his water. Like Ormr he was puzzled but not really sure what this team looked like? Could the 4 of them really be as well of as a whole troop of soldiers?
  He looked at the little female, Wondering a moment. They gone this far and he still didn't know her name. But now didn't seem like the place to ask, Instead he just bides his time.

The Lord Captain put down his glass of wine on the table and the torches lighting the dining hall suddenly lowered visibly. He looked across the table at them. "They died . . . I nearly died myself . . . it's why I intended to take brand new recruits to replace them . . . if I took from the soldiers we have in the Order, they'd be found out in an instant. But brand new Banners can blend in . . . be unknown, and the three of you all show extreme promise. You are the only Banners, but that is of no matter. I will show you all how to use something akin to what I did to him during the entrance exams." He pointed to the king's Bastard. "It nearly killed us both . . . but he was still walking after it, and trust me, if worse comes to worst, you'll need such a thing."

He took down some wine again, the torches slowly getting brighter once more. "You will not however be rotting in the walls of this castle . . . the Banners, myself included are sent to other kingdoms, we mingle, we watch . . . and when nessecary, which is unfortunately quite often. We fight . . . you will all be in harms way, you will be the ones that face off the men and women of legend." He pointed to the murals across the walls, giant painted carpets showing the battles of history. "Orion the Great Calamity, Orzan the Undying, General Callius of the blood stained Axe. These are the kinds of people you will face off against. You will fight them . . . and you will walk away from it." He knew the names he gave were a bit of exaggeration today, but then none of them save for Orion were nearly so terrifying in life as they are in legend. Orzan himself was only known as the Undying for his death defying determination, similar to the Bastard, no matter what a pesron did he would stand up again. "This world is in constant danger . . . and we are the ones that will destroy that danger. If the wars begin . . . it's because we failed."

She was impressed with his speech but she didn't believe in herself to do what he'd ask.  Regardless of that, she wanted to try really badly and become great.  She waited for the other members to ask more questions if they wanted to but then she headed to where she was told her room was.

She was in a solitary room since she was the only woman recruit and the room was shockingly empty.  There was a bed, a desk and a large chest that she had nothing to put inside of.  The ex slave was uncomfortable with the idea of the bed so she left it made and curled up on the cold stone under the desk for the night only to be woken by a rap on the door.

He noticed one of the new Banners leaving to her room, the only one of them that was a woman, such a curious turn of events that. A woman, in the Myrzar . . . something the Lord Captain had not seen in his own lifetime. But after she left, there was still the matter of the feast. He finished his own food, for the evening, taking their general silence toward him as a lack of need for questions answered. Soon he stood, bowing to them all "I shall be retiring for the evening, I reccomend you all do the same . . . then again, there is training yet ahead of you all so if you like please stay up, the library I know is of interest, spouting the names of legends means nothing without context and context you will find, if you were to go there." He chuckled softly, speaking in riddles . . . just like his mentor.

That thought robbed his laughter, but he kept his smile until he was in the halls, stalking silently, counting the torches in the back of his mind, watching the outlines of boots in the thin layer of dust that collected on the floor of the halls. So many passed through them, Banners and Myrzar Knights alike. He looked down at the training yards, nostalgia of the older days and phantom pain of old wounds.

He found his way, almost without realizing to some of the less well used quarters, a good few empty rooms on all sides. He could feel her there, behind the door, very curious . . . choosing a place so close to his own. But perhaps, like himself, she prized solitude and silence. He knocked on the door, he could see the light from her room inside. And once the door opened he stepped inside silently, still in his armor, and his long leather coat.

"You left at the dinner Feast . . . I was rather surprised by that." But, before letting her reply he continued, "I must admit . . . you remind me a great deal of myself from a long time ago, longer in all honesty than I care to say. You see . . . when I was gathered for the Myrzar, I nearly killed myself with fear . . . some ghostly white figure standing at the foot of my bed, staring at me in the middle of the night, demanding I rise and make way to the castle. It was almost too much on it's own. Then, once I got there, still terrified for my life, they expected me to fight someone I'd never even met who was more than my own size . . . I felt I was destined to fail. But, they told me I was in . . . I was successful, and they put me into back breaking training . . . that ghostly white apparition was the Lord Captain of the Myrzar at the time, a wolf by the name of Arden Moriardus. I'm here, to be an appirition in your memory . . . to tell you, if you've come this far. You will not fail . . . especially if your master's words were even half true when he spoke of you to me."