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[Yoink]

Pssst... Just pick Sanguine!

Not like I didn't have to look up two of them in the dictionary anyway.

[Hubris Incalculable]

I dont understand any of those words except melachanoly. (Not a vote)

Wkipedia is your friend.

[micelus]

Sanguine: Er...Passionate and active, I guess.
Choleric: A leader and ambitious, I think.
Melacholic: A thinker and a rational...I think.
Phlegmatic: Easy and Lazy? I seriously have no idea.

[Roboboy33]

I vote melaholic.

[Yoink]

Sanguine is more cheerful-ish, Choleric is irritable and easily angered, Melancholic is glum and morose, whilst I'm pretty sure Phlegmatic is just laid back.
That's according to Dictionary.com, at least!

[Roboboy33]

If what yoink said is true then I change to phlegmatic. Maybe Nilum should've said what they mean :I

[Yoink]

phleg·mat·ic   /flɛgˈmętɪk/  Show Spelled[fleg-mat-ik] 
Adjective
1.not easily excited to action or display of emotion; apathetic; sluggish.
2.self-possessed, calm, or composed.
3.of the natureof or abounding in the humor phlegm.

...Obviously it's not the third one.

[Nilum]

"Jon, I can use any weapon well enough. The weapon itself is irrelevant -- what matters is the mindset of the wielder. Usually I don't need anything more than my hands," you say. He looks surprised.
"If you stick with me, I'm sure you'll learn a thing or two. But for now, we rest."'

You close your eyes and lie awake. You realize this is the first time you can remember sleeping in a warm bed -- the orphanage, overpopulated as it was, had little more than blankets. Your mind races, going over the details of the last fight, your first fight -- trying to understand just how you did what you did. You briefly wonder if Xavier's alright. Before you know it, you're asleep. You dream of llamas.

Morning comes quickly and you awake to what seems to be a church bell. Along with the other boys in the outbuilding, you get up. Some of them are wearing fresh grey tunics, emblazoned with the seal of the Hallowed Marsh militia on the back. It occurs to you that there is a chest at the foot of your bed. Upon opening it, you find several basic uniforms and a red armband. You change out of your rags.

The bell continues to ring and some of the kids are clearly anxious. Jon approaches you and taps on your shoulder. He then whispers,
"Sir, we need to head outside and prepare for our first day of training. You need to lead us."
You nod in acknowledgement, then turn to face the rest of the room.
"Well? What are you waiting for? Let's go," you say, leading the group outside into the grassy training fields, sprinkled with fresh morning dew. The sun has barely risen. Moss is standing in the center, eyes locked on you.

"I hope in the future you'll be less tardy. Starting today, you are not boys. You take the first step in a long journey that will lead you to adulthood. For the next thirteen days, you will live here. You will teach and be taught. You will battle day in and day out, and when the time comes, you will be able to fight as a cohesive unit. Hallowed Marsh has the best militia in all of Iadara -- we are the arm of the council,  the protector of the border fiefs. The weak amongst you will not survive this training, and the strong will be all the stronger for it."

His speech was clearly rehearsed. It's something he's said many, many times. You try to remember what little you were taught of Iadara and its surrounding lands. You knew that Hallowed Marsh was considered one of the border towns, and quite rich because of it. Caravans from the east always passed through Hallowed Marsh first, and the tariffs collected lined the pockets of every politician in the city. Almost every city commissioner possessed vast fiefs on the outskirts; they were often prey to bandits. Many ex-mayors were now proud owners of entire villages. The ridiculous number of fiefdoms required an equally large militia to defend them -- you suppose that from today on, that is your duty.

"As leader, you are responsible for your entire squad, Nago Krobag. You will need to decide on a name for them and set up a proper command structure. You can't command 18 men individually. In 13 days, you will have your trial by fire. Now then -- I will offer no more advice. It is not my place. I have given what you need to succeed. Training weapons are available at the armory; bows and spears and swords. Training dummies are available as well. Best of luck," he says, and departs.

You're left in the middle of a field of grass. A white circle is drawn on it in chalk or paint. All of the children are staring at you, awaiting instruction.
>...
Status: At the training field, surrounded by fresh recruits.
Inventory: Hallowed Marsh uniform and leader armband.
Skills: Novice unarmed combatant.
Temperament: ??
((One point still remains, since there was a 50/50 split between Phlegmatic and Choleric. Your choice of temperament will manifest in several ways -- Phlegmatic people reason things through and don't let emotions go to their heads. They're better thinkers. Choleric people are leaders, able to manipulate a crowd and always trying to seize what's theirs. As it stands, you have no temperament, and are thus in perfect balance. You have no weaknesses, but no strengths either. Furthermore, all of your abilities are still at a human level -- temperament corresponds to your basic attributes, too. As you put points into each temperament, you will become stronger or faster or smarter.))

[Hubris Incalculable]

Name the group "Dragon Army". Assign Xavier and Jon the position of lieutenant, and have them each pick half of the remainder to be their "platoon". Have them each pick two captains from their platoons, who will each pick three within the platoon to be their "section".

[Yoink]

Eh, sounds good to me! And let's get 'em all doing some drills and sparring, to look all impressive once Mr Moss returns. Or something.

[Hitty40]

Choleric.

[Roboboy33]

Choleric.

This.

[mcclay]

choleric

[Nilum]

"Alright, listen up. From today onward, we are the Dragon Army. We will serve Hallowed Marsh to our graves, but to do that effectively, we must be able to fight. Xavier and Jonathon, come here," you say after Moss is out of sight.

Xavier walks forth, his temple bruised and swollen. He glares at you. Jonathon follows, a confused look on his face.
"You two are my lieutenants," you declare, "and as such, you will each command eight men. Take turns choosing from the pool. After the selection has been decided, you will choose two of your eight and declare them captains, and they will take turns to select three of the remaining six to form their squad."
Jon seems surprised by your organization, but he goes along with it. Xavier seems really angry, though. He obviously thinks you robbed him of his position as leader. Regardless, the draft proceeds uneventfully.

After 20 minutes, you've instated a proper hierarchy and command structure. Time to get them training. Some of them still have injuries they're nursing, but frankly, they need as much fighting experience as they can get. The 'trial by fire' is two weeks away, and it doesn't take a military genius to note that the forces you have now are pitiful.

"Grab some training swords from the armory and find yourselves sparring partners. Don't hold back and don't stop for anything. There will be no breaks. If you need to take a breather, you can take it while running laps around the field. If I see anyone slacking off, you'll be assigned a new partner. Me."

You think that worked -- your forces scatter and head immediately for the armory. Xavier spits at the field, glares at you again, and struts off. Jon comes up beside you.
"I-I'm really happy you think I'm good enough to be lieutenant, but, I'm younger than most of the others here. I don't think they'll listen to me if push comes to shove."

Jonathon has a point. 13 is the minimum age at which one could join the militia, 16 is the oldest, and most boys seem to be somewhere in between. You haven't even seen him fight, but if he got to the semifinals he has to have been doing something right. Xavier on the other hand seems like trouble -- you haven't fought him on even ground yet, and you're not honestly sure if you could beat him again. It also occurs to you that you completely lost track of the main reason you joined the militia: to earn enough gold to buy a llama. You've gotten yourself into a rather ridiculous predicament. You don't even know how much you'll be paid.

You have one battle to your name. You're probably greener than most of your men. Given that there are 19 members of Dragon Army, if everyone pairs up, one will be left over. You had planned on being that one, but given your abject lack of fighting experience and the fact that Xavier seems like he's got something in mind for you, maybe a change of plans would be best. You said you'd fight whoever slacked off, but the entire group seems determined. Lazing about is hardly something a newly appointed leader should do, too.
>...
Status: At the training field with Jonathon. The rest of Dragon Army has gone to fetch weapons.
Inventory: Hallowed Marsh uniform and leader armband.
Skills: Novice unarmed combatant.

Spoiler: Temperament (click to show/hide)

Sanguine, Melancholic, Phlegmatic Rank 0.

Choleric Rank 1.
At this rank you:

• can command a squad of five or fewer extremely well
• can inspire or frighten small groups of people
• can detect disloyalty in weak-willed individuals

Spoiler: Dragon Army (click to show/hide)

Force level: 18/18 (100%)
Lieutenants: Jonathon Miles, Xavier ??
Morale: Good.
Equipment: Training weapons.
Experience: Completely green.
Discipline: Average.

[The Fool]

Fight a training dummy to get use to punching things that are standing.