AAUUUUUUUGH.
You let out a bloodcurdling scream.
The room shakes in fear.
You raise one of your fists and crack each knuckle individually. With every CRAK the kids flinch.
"I am Nago Krobag! If anyone here thinks they can face me, then stand!"
No one stands.
The victor decided, the gentleman from before turns toward you.
"Your fighting style is unorthodox, but... I can't go back on my word. You're accepted. Starting tomorrow, you're an apprentice here. You're the leader of the class, too -- a title that would've gone to Xavier if you hadn't just beaten him without even arming yourself. The student bunks are in the outbuilding, across from the training area. The name's Elor Moss, but you'll address me as 'Sir', got it?"
You aren't really sure how this militia operates. Moss seems like he's in charge, but what does he mean by 'leader of the class'? Up until this point, you'd assumed the winner of the tournament would be the only one recruited and taught. He's making it sound like the rest of the kids are also going to be given a chance. Regardless, you follow his instructions and head to the outbuilding. 8 bunks, 1 regular bed. You take the bed -- it's at the front of the room. You're the 'leader' so you presume it's yours.
Over the next several hours, kids slowly filter in. Most of them were treating their injuries, it seems. A short brown-haired boy approaches you as you recline on the bed.
"Mr. Krobag, you're... you're really strong, you know? I can't believe you fought Xavier without a weapon. I made it to the semifinals, but I couldn't even touch him. I'm Jonathon Miles, by the way. 13 years old and been looking forward to joining the militia since I been born! Mr. Krobag sir, are you good with a weapon, too? Or can you only fight with your hands? N-not that I'm criticizing you or anything, I'm just curious..."
It occurs to you that that was the first fight you've ever been in and you utterly dominated a boy of significantly more skill. You'd like to attribute it to your strategy, but something about actually fighting him came naturally. Your body knew how to move, even if it wasn't 'trained'. You'd never had quarrels at the orphanage.
>...
Status: Reclining in the militia outbuilding.
Inventory: The rags on your back.
Skills: Novice unarmed combatant.
Temperament: ??
((You have one point to distribute into a TEMPERAMENT. Choices available are Sanguine, Choleric, Melancholic, and Phlegmatic. Detailed descriptions will not be provided, but they will have a significant effect on future actions.))
Author
Topic: You are Marched Hallow/Nago Krobag, buyer of llamas/leader of Dragon Army (Read 3957 times)