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[i]A young lad leaned over the side of the small fishing boat and dipped his fingers into the dark water as his father pulled hard again on the oars. They slid forward through the swells that were trying to push them back towards land, his father grunting curses with each strong stroke.

"Can I help?" the boy asked, settling onto one of the boat's seat-planks. Across from him his father grimaced a smile through his beard.

"The day I can't row out against the breakers," he said, his face flushed, "is the day I hang up my nets and give this old tub to you."

The boy nodded. The same answer, returned every day to the same question. Endless identical days, it seemed, different only in the size of their catch, his father's mood, and the vagaries of wind and water.

The boy peered past his father to gaze at the southern horizon, that thin seam where sea joined with sky. Wind and water. He didn't share his father's old fisherman sense of the changing weather, but he could still tell that this day would not be exactly like most others.

"Aye, you can feel it too, then," his father said as the boy continued to stare off into the distance. "A storm's brewing out there. Something's maddened her, t'be sure. She'll be lancing before nightfall."

The boy saw it, a faint bruising in the hard blue sky that warned of distant storm clouds massing. He turned back to his father and was surprised to catch something glinting in his slate-gray eyes.

"Your father's not so old yet, boy. The rowing's hard because the sea's starting to work its way into a fury. You'll have to wait a few more years yet before you can call yourself the captain of this ship."[/i]


A small snicker broke the silence that permeated the small cottage that Deo inhabited. Four days had passed like a forgotten memory, locked away in the depths of his psyche never to be seen again. Just as Lex had foretold, deployment had whisked him away to the northern most vassal of Ionia, [b]Gunma[/b]. A village known for its freezing winters, crab catchers, and whalers, it was an important piece to the puzzle that made up Ionia, providing for it hundreds of pounds of whale blubber and meat, and Axim's next likely point of attack. Because of this likely event, his division had been deployed to defend it; in the dead of winter. Deo was never a fan of snow, in fact, he despised its white countenance all together, but even as a Devari, he had no say in his divisions place of deployment.

Many doubted the Axim's tenacity, laughing off a potential invasion until spring, but oh how wrong they where. Within days of their declaration, two villages fell to their might. The snow couldn't halt thier advance, even the sound of thier rhythmic cadence was clearly heard in the howling winds of a blizzard. It was even said that the Axim trained day and night in the cold, deadening thier bodies to the freezing temperatures. Many told tales of the Axim training for battle as early as seven, but rumors were rumors, one couldn't believe everything spouted by tipsy fishermen at the end of a work day.

The squeaking of leather boots brought Deo back into reality, the head of the house had returned. As was law in Ionia, state soldiers were to be quartered in the homes of citizens. To many, this was a privilege, to have the opportunity to pamper the conscripted army of Ionia was an honor one could dream of, and pamper they did. Soldiers where often offered the head seat at the dinner table, the best of the fish during a meal, and many a times, the eldest daughter if she was not yet married. This was especially the case for Deo. As a Devari; a division captain, he apparently held some sort of invisible power that the common people found mesmerising. To see that power, to say that their grandchildren was a spawn of that power, meant so much to the villagers, it even elevated thier status to that near to the Elders'. It disgusted Deo. 

That disgust made its way onto his face, skewing his features as the head of the house entered the room. 

"Meshi." the man began, bowing low, as was customary. It always caught Deo off guard, to have a man, thirty years his senior, bow before him; he was was sure it afflicted the man also. 

Deo himself rose, deadpanning his face and imitating the man with a low bow of his own. [color=brown]"Meshi. What brings you?"[/color] he asked. 

The man rose, giving Deo the opportunity to take in his features. As was common, northerners where gifted with stockier bodies, rounder, flatter faces, and a less prominent nose than those to the south; all features the man displayed.

"The Elder seeks your audience with the Millita. Your Lieutenants have also been gathered." he confided. 

Deo let out a frustrated breath out his nose. So quickly did people wish to insight war, to talk of it as if they where to fight.

[color=Brown]"Thank you."[/color] Deo sighed, returning the man's bow before grabbing his [url=https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d7/Suji_kabuto_Met_14.100.160.jpg]helmet[/url] and squeezed past the rather large whale of a man to make his way out of the house.  

Upon opening the cottage door, he was greeted with a slap in the face by the crisp nighttime wind that whipped across the village. Deo let out a string of curses, earning him a giggle from the daughter of the household. Gritting his teeth, he stepped into the raging blizzard, closing the door behind him and trudging through the snow. Despite his hate for the cold, he was thankful for the blubber that warmed his body, and the fur boots that provided him with a rhythmic crunch after each step. Within moments, he lost himself in a sea of white.

[i][color=brown]"How long until the storm comes?"[/color]

The young boy's father squinted, lines scored by years of sun and salt cracking his face. "We should be all right if we get back around the late tide, but I also don't want to tempt Sephi. So we best start filling this hold with fish." He paused his rowing, holding the oars suspended over the waves; water streamed from the blades, drops glittering like jewels in the sunlight as they fell. "Search for fish."

Rolling his sleeve up, he thought on his words. His father likened what he did to a man finding water . . . though of course, out here, water was easy enough to find. Other things were more difficult.

He leaned again over the side of the rocking boat, this time farther out, and plunged his arm into the water up to his elbow. It was cold, but not bracingly so. Behind him he heard his father set down the oars with a clatter, and then a moment later the susurrus of nets being pulled from beneath the seat-planks.

The boy stared into the shifting blackness. The sounds of his father dwindled as he concentrated on the sea and the feel of his hand drifting in the gentle current. Gradually the sun on his neck and the wind tugging at his hair also faded away. He dissolved into the water, spreading out into the yawning abyss below.

With a gasp he returned to the boat, pulling his arm from the water. Below his elbow the skin had turned ashen.[/i]

The swap from freezing cold to warm caused Deo's face to itch, an affliction that he just realized he had.  Standing at the head of the great oval table, carved of wood with great care and decorated with all manner of symbols and patterns and intricate designs, Deo observed those before him. His four  officers; Akio, his head officer, Juro, his second seat, Madoku, his third seat, and Shigeo his fourth and final seated officer; all trained and disciplined men from the Ionian Army who sat to his right. To his left sat the the leaders of the Gunma Militia, each who held power in a certain facet of the villages over all defense. At the opposite end of the table sat the Elder, the chosen leader of Gunma and a man who lived up the the title of 'elder'. His face was small, roundish, and he moved with ungainly restlessness, like a number of elderly squirrels trying to escape from a sack. His own age was on the older side of completely indeterminate. If one picked a number at random, he was probably a little older than that. His face was heavily lined, and the small amount of hair that escaped from under the red woolen hat that signified his position was thin, white, and had very much its own ideas about how it wished to arrange itself. He too was muffled inside a heavy coat, but over it he wore a billowing gown with very faded purple trim, the badge of his unique and very peculiar office.

Upon his signal, all arose from thier seats and bowed, greeting the Elder with a resounding 'Meshi'. As was custom, the Elder himself returned the greeting, and with that, all took a seat except the Elder, who instead spoke. 

"It is an honor to meet you and your subordinates, Devari Deo. We cannot express our gratitude enough for your coming here." the old man announced, giving him a toothy grin. 

With a awkward smile, Deo acknowledged the Elders welcome; [color=Brown]"I thank you, and your village, for the love you have shown us. I assure you, your village is in good hands." he affirmed, his heart pounding in his ears, he wasn't accustomed to receiving praise.

The Elder nodded, a smile never leaving his face as he gestured to the Militiamen to his left. "Here with us are the men who have gratuitously volunteered to protect thier village for generations." The Elder signaled for the men to stand.

The first man who was a squat bearded fishermen who gave off the constant impression of needing to use the restroom, introduced himself, saluting Deo promptly. "Head of Security sir. Jing." he announced. 
Next was a fairly young man with rippling muscles, a testament to the sea's grueling work ethic. "My name is Sasuke, Head of Defense at your service." he affirmed.

Lastly was a man who's strange appearance was almost as if it was contrived. His hair was wizened and straw-like, nearly fossilized it was so dry. He had sad, way worn eyes and a distinctive beard. It wasn’t a thick, but rather something a lunatic might have: straggly, unkempt and spittle flecked. His face was toil worn and tanned from exposure to the elements and he stood with a weary, lethargic air. His fingers were gnarled and knobbly and the clothes he wore were musty and mingling. Judging by appearance alone clued Deo in to his truly unpleasant character. 

"I didn't know Devari came so young these days. Name is Toho, you come to me for anything having to do with actually fighting; Head of Combat." he spat. Despite his expecting gaze, Deo paid him no heed, instead, he acknowledged each and every one of the Militiamen and stood himself, bowing once again. 

[color=Brown]"It's and honor meeting each and every one of you. I look forward to working with you in the near future."[/color] Deo remarked before he himself took his seat. This garnered a small smile from Juro, who could sense the edge in his superiors' voice.

With a grumble form Toho, an awkward silence settled over the room, for in that void of sound the shallowness of their next conversation was laid bare. 

With a small cough, the Elder attempted to break the ice. "The tension in this room is about as thick as a whales skull." he chortled, garnering smiles and chuckles all around. Taking this as a good sign, the Elder continued on. "Hm. Jing, why don't we start with our current security detail." he suggested.

Jing nodded, clearing his throat as he stood. "We currently have thirty armed men circling the perimeter of the village, as well as men stationed on watchtowers-" 

Akio interrupted. "Watchtowers? Is not Gunma famous for its arduous winter blizzards?"

"Hai, what use is a watchtower if you can not see five feet in front of you?" Shigeo added.

Deo, intrigued but silent, turned to Jing for a rebuttal. Instead, Toho spoke. "You idiot, there's more than one god damn season in a year, and lets not forget 'da fac' that Gunma is surrounded by ah' wall, they outta siege, which means we hav' ah' height advantage."

This time Juro spoke. "Granted, but if you can not see them, how do yo plan you hit them?"

Toho growled, jerking forward in his seat suddenly. "Do ya thin' that ah' men of Gunma are not capable of combat in inclement weather, the weather they were [b]born[/b] in?! he bellowed.

The Elder quickly interrupted, seeing that the conversation was already growing out of hand. "Now, now Toho, he did not mean that. All their concerns are valid ones." he cooed, calming the Head of Combat down. "Now, why don't we switch to the topic of our actual fighting force, Sasuke, Toho?."

Sasuke nodded, thankful for the Elders insight. "Every male in the village who has seen fifteen or more winters is armed and is required to defend the village in case of attack. Household heads are also required to enact 'Shibuki', the evacuation of the village to our neighbors Xidi by boat."

This peaked Deo's interest. "This means you can't guarantee that many men will remain and fight if evacuation is always an option?" 

Sasuke nodded solemnly, but a grunt from Toho warranted everyone's attention. "Ionia ah' nat'on of fishermen, the addled don't deserve to call 'emselves Ionians if they run from 'ah 'haole' without putting up a fight." he spat.

"He is right." the Elder crooked.

Despite thier adamance, Deo doubted them, and by the looks of his companions', they to worried about the Gunmians integrity.

Deo leaned forward in his seat. [color=Brown]"Elder, Heads, I'm sure you can understand our concern."[/color]

"Like hell ye do." Toho muttered under his breath.

Clearing his throat, he continued. [color=Brown]"As a Devari, I automatically hold power over all of you through my rank. I need to make this clear now.[/color] he breathed, getting to his feet. [color=Brown]"All military aspects of this village is under my control, and as such, your reports,"[/color] he paused. [color=Brown]worry me. It shows me that you all lack basic training, even common sense."[/color]

At this Toho bolted upright, his eyes wide with rage, but Deo's glare silenced him.

[color=Brown]"Shibuki will not be enacted unless [b]I[/b] call for it."[/color] he commanded, each word emphasised and articulated clearly. [color=Brown]"Patrols will be extended an bolstered from thirty men to fifty men. And the wat-"[/color]

A sudden 'slam' caused Deo to pause. Without warning, a young man, maybe sixteen years old, stumbled into the room. His words, sucked the life from its inhabitants.

"The walls are burning."

[i]"Well?" his father asked, "Is this a good spot?"

His father might have noticed his tone but still he grunted agreement and bent to his nets. The boy helped him thread a few more pieces of bait into the mesh, then took the far end of the net and brought it to the back of the boat. At the count of three father and son tossed the weighted corners out into the ocean and watched them sink, fastening the other ends of the nets onto iron hooks driven into the side of the boat, while also holding tight to the lines that ran down to the weights suspended in the deepness. Now they just had to wait.

Sometimes it could take an hour before they caught anything or his father grudgingly gave up, but today the god's bounty was swift and almost immediately they felt the lines begin to thrum with the feeling of thrashing fish.

"Up boy, pull it up!" his father cried, hauling on the line that ran down to the net's weights. The did the same, and slowly the net cinched closed, rising towards the surface. His father let out a whoop when he saw how many squirming silver bodies they had snared, and with a great heave father and son dumped the wriggling fish into the ship's hold. Each was about as long as the boy's arm, and his father's guess had been right as their heads were large and black and bony, almost as if they were wearing helmets. The boy jumped back a step, wary of their snapping jaws. He'd watched his father's cousin lose a finger to one of these fish before.

"Ironheads! Ten, eleven . . . twelve! Just about the best first cast I've ever had. The god's smiles on us today, boy."

The boy grinned broadly, more for his father's good humor than for the catch they'd brought up. In the past year there had been too many days of sullen silence trapped together on this boat, followed by nights of drunken rage and sadness.

Without warning, the boys attention was stolen away to the shore; the sound of a beating gong.[/i]


[hider=Summary]
Four days later, Deo is transferred to Gunma, the northern most vassal of Ionia and one of the few villages relatively close to Axim. After a few moments to himself, he is summoned to a meeting with the village Elder and the Millta leaders. After everyone is introduced, Deo is given info on the villages defense and fighting force, and thus insights arguments with his and his subordinates comments. The meeting is interrupted by the news that that villages wall is on fire.
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