"Jeria, apprentice to the Outwalkers, reporting." The half-fiend stood before the diminutive halfling, looking down at the deceptively frail woman. She, too, was wearing the leather and cloak of the Outwalkers, with rapier and dirk strapped at her side, a bow built to her size on the chair beside her. Jeria knew her name well, as he knew the stories told of her. The halfling Delire was the captain and master of the Outwalkers and a legend in the city, her small size belying her deadly nature. No hint of the speed of her swords or the deadliness of her bow. She looked up at the tall half-fiend towering over her, and addressed him, her words coming out in a light, mocking tone.

"You're the new one? Rumour has it your mother lived on the outside, was raped by a fiend and died as you were born. What you got to say about the story, boy? Do I need to worry about you going over to the other side when you're out there? Got any sympathies for your daddy and your kin? Is your heart as black as your skin is red?"

Jeria stood their perplexed, not expecting such a welcome. His mind whirled as he looked at the diminutive woman, her words sharper than her rapier. Her words stung, adding more fuel to the fire created by a life of sideways glances and surreptitious whispers.

"Yes, my father was a fiend. No need to worry about me going over to their side though, I hate them as much as anyone here!" His voice was harsh, the anger evident, though controlled.

Delire looked at him, seeing the fury and anger rising. She chuckled at his rising indignation. She had expected this reaction; in truth, any other reaction would have worried her. He would need to learn to curb his anger at such slights, he would receive far worse as he travelled beyond the city and had to deal with other cities where he was not known.

"Ahh, don't take it so hard, boy. You wouldn't be here if anyone thought you were a security risk. Everyone gets asked the hard question when they first arrive. Take me for example Now I am one of the very few of my race that exist outside of the fiends breeding farms. One of the few that doesn't exist just to be fattened up and used as an hors de oeuvre at some fiendish party. When I first arrived I got asked if I would be willing to watch my cousins, friends and family being eaten. Could I do nothing while they screamed? Could I just look on, to take no action but to report back on what had happened?"

She stopped, sighed, looked at Jeria.

"Gotta do this properly I suppose. It's expected and the powers that be like to know that we are all bound by oaths, as worthless as they are to all. Either you mean well and no oath is needed, or you mean ill and no oath is binding. Still, the forms must be obeyed, must they not, boy?” She stood, and even at full height barely came to Jeria's waist.

"You are hereby inducted into the Outwalker's of Weald Hall. From this day forth you are a brother to all Outwalkers. Both to those within these walls and those who live elsewhere but share in our fraternity. Do not betray that trust, your city or your kin. Thus say I, Delire, Captain of the Outwalkers of Weald Hall."

She sat, sank back into her seat, waiting for Jeria to reply.

"I, Jeria, soldier and citizen of Weald Hall, do hereby accept a commission in the Outwalker's of Weald Hall. I swear to be brother to all, to protect the city, to die before revealing the secret of the city to any that would speak before the fiends." He drew a small dagger from his belt, slitting his thumb, spilling a drop of blood into a bottle placed on the desk in front of Delire.

Delire smiled, "Welcome, Jeria. Your blood will stand sentry for you. When you are in trouble, we will know. If you are ever caught, if you are ever put in a position in which there is no hope speak my name, your name, and a word only you will know. Whisper that word into the bottle now. In the future, when you speak thus, the blood within the bottle will burn as will the blood within you. It will grant a quick death. Rather that, than the slow, agonising hell the fiends concoct for the combined goals of enjoyment and information extraction."

She leaned back. "Now that the formalities are over, let me let you in on a secret. Jeria, you would not be here if I had not investigated and verified you out a long time ago. No one joins us without us knowing them and making sure they are acceptable to us. Now, whisper into the bottle and go out back, your travelling partner, mentor and hopefully friend is waiting." Jeria leaned over the bottle, whispered a word gently into it then corked and sealed the bottle with a red paste that stood in a jar on the desk before her.

Out back was an exercise yard, with the ground cleared except for some targets at the far end and practice dummies in the centre. An ogre stood in the middle, the Outwalker uniform tight across his massive chest. Jeria wondered about him; there were few enough ogres within the city, most were happy servants in the fiendish regime above. Never had he heard of one in a position of trust. They were brutes with the finesse, and traits that reinforced their bestial nature. At least, that is what he thought until he got up close. The resolution became clear; this was no ogre, he just was not large enough to be one. As he approached he recognised the man from the day before, Gruzz, the one who kept looking at him. Gruzz’s voice, when he spoke, was deep, gruff and surprisingly soft.

"Jeria, right? Thought I recognised you up on the wall yesterday. How many half-fiends are in the guards? I'm Gruzz. Delire said to take it easy on you, that people tend to mock you because of your father.” He laughed making Jeria take a step back and look at him suspiciously.

Gruzz just laughed more at Jeria’s reaction. "Heh, what, she thinks I wouldn’t notice that you are slightly different? Guess what? I have the same problem." His smile came quickly, broadly, sharp fangs visible as he smiled, the massive wide mouth below the broad nose producing a smile that was infectious. "Hey, people think your dad made you evil, they just assume mine made me dumb. Whoever heard of an intelligent ogre? Now get over here and let me see that axe you're lugging around. " Gruzz beckoned Jeria forward, holding his hand out for the axe that Jeria carried across his back. Taking it, he turned it over carefully, examining the head and the haft.

"Cold iron. Properly forged by an alchemist, not just any old iron. Must have cost you a bit, definitely not guard issue. Saves my budget, I don’t have to find something for you now. Wouldn’t let you out of the city if you didn’t have a proper weapon. You’re going to need it if we get into trouble. If we do our jobs properly that shouldn't happen, but here is the reality you will learn out there, who can do their job properly?"

He looked at Jeria, who while taller than most humans was till shorter than Gruzz.

“Take some of your aggression out on that dummy there.” Gruzz watched as Jeria approached a practicedummy at the end of the courtyard.

Jeria walked up to the wood and straw man, his axe loose in his hands. He started taking up a stance and was taken by surprise as a wooden arm with a wooden sword suddenly stabbed out. Instinctively he jumped back, bringing his into a proper ready position in front of him. Wearily he looked at the dummy as behind him he heard the Gruzz laughing.

Gruzz’s voice calledout, Öh, by the way, we use training golems here. Have fun!”

Swearing under his breathe Jeria was glad of hiw red skin as he herad a few other voices form within the Outwalker barracks laughing. Clearly, he had fallen for the trick played on all recruits. One they had been waiting to see. He grinned as heard someone shout to someone else to pay up, that he had not been hit. Celarly not everyone avoided that initial strike.

After an hour of hitting, and being hit, by the dummy Gruzz called out to stop.

“Jeriagood foundation of axe skills. Don't really need to teach you there. What you need to learn is out there and the best way to learn is on the job. We don’t go in for training in barracks here. We head out tomorrow. You can get a taste for what is out there. Small bites at atime. First trip is with me, a couple of days out into open, quiet, learn a bit then back. Grab an empty room. All are the same and the taken ones are marked.”

Sweating from his exertions against the dummy, he dragged his bag into the barracks. A few of those who had been watching waited for him in the corridor. He went up to one of them who just shook his head.

“Nope, not until you come back from your first trip. Until then you are not one of us. When you get out there, and come back, welcome, until then, you are not one of us.” Everyone else in the corridor laughed and turned back into their rooms leaving Jeria standing there. Omce again his red skin saved him showing his embarresment. Still, any elite corps had their hazing rituals. Rather that than not being there at all.