A sound to rip the attention, the name and yet unearned rank burrowing beneath the young man’s skin and into his very being. A world turning upon itself, throat caught in delivery.
Subordinates immediately pause at the raised tone, turning now towards the newly arrived interloper within their midst.
Instincts force survival instincts to freeze, the mouse beneath circling hawks studied with intense perception.
The dwarven woman strolls out from her massive authoritarian desk, ancient oak construction a backdrop to the squat, yet well built form. Formal uniform straight and well kept, thick red hair braided together running down beneath her shoulders in a tight bundle dotted with cultural pins and talismans.
A single shortsword at her waist, kept in a sheath inlaid with ivory and gold. An eagle’s spread wings emblazoned across from it, individual feathers crafted with immense detail creating a symbology over function in its creation; rank earned by blood.
She speaks, a hard voice bringing a warm introduction. “Welcome.”
“T-thank you.” Ford sputters out as he attempts to quantify his words. “Sorry I’m late… traffic from…”
“This is the Rookie you were talking about?”
Sharp ears on dark amber eyes, ashen gray skin indicative of two bloodlines. A child of the surface and underearth, of betrayers and loyalists from another era. Reflecting light streaming in from the far window, a mild inconvenience to the woman as she pulls a uniformed arm to shield slightly sensitive eyes.
Thin leather armor, reinforced with thinner metal plates, sits above a well ironed and sparsely decorated patrol uniform. Casual, professional clothing for the office environment uncompromisingly simplistic in the preparation for actualized conflict beyond the safe havens of law, missing pieces kept behind lock and key in wire mesh cages.
A right hand extended for greeting, Ford instinctively reaching out to meet her halfway. The smooth charisma of ancient bloodlines mixed with popular phases in youth, stirred in a calm and comforting tone unfitting of a brutal occupation. “Nice to meet you Mr. Ford, my name is Luria Jarka. I’ll be your Sergeant until you end up dead, promoted, or fired.”
The joke is barely caught, the young man nodding with a nervous expression. “T-thank you ma’am.”
“Oh relax a bit rookie.” The Sargeant insists with a light smile, turning towards the three personnel in the half-circle. “Time to meet the team.”
A dismissive scoff towards superiors, she makes a wink towards the administrative center of the entire operation. “I assume you’ve met our illustrious Captain Kali Grunsen. She’s in charge of everything.”
The dwarven women answers her subordinate roughly. “Who the hells you think headhunted him?”
Sergeant Jarka gives a nefarious smirk. “Cap’s got the eyes for talent, literally.”
The halfling fellow barely reaches up to the young man’s hips, his light, mostly unarmored uniform augmented by oversized shoulder pads and a regularly sized badge comically large on the small body. A careful tone, held within a palpable excitement as he greets the young man. “The level five wonderboy…”
The Sergeant introduces them. “Officer Jason Ford, this is Corporal Pippin Underfoot. He does the…”
“Call me Pippy.” Corporal Underfoot dismisses with a wave, a gaze still focused on the new officer. “And I do the wizarding magics of the group. Pleasure to meet you.”
“P-pleasure to meet you too sir.”
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“Ah don’t get all formal with me kiddo.” Underfoot laughs aloud. “I heard you graduated from U. South?”
“Ye-yes. I just graduated last year.” Jason Ford nods quickly.
“Evocation or Abjuration?” He guesses with a short glance, trained eyes gathering the small burns at the edges of fingers from related education.
“Both.” The young man answers honestly. “I… I double majored.”
The halfling steps back, a dramatic death feigned. “Wooooowwww look at you kiddo. I couldn’t stomach the evocation faculty. Is Professor J’zarzi still there?”
“Uh… she’s…”
The Sergeant interrupts the conversation with a smile. “Ignore him. Underfoot’s just glad he’s not the only ‘real caster’ in the squad anymore.”
“Farhill was a caster.” Captain Grunsen begins to correct, information drawing from the non-present member. “But the Corporal will enjoy someone with a similar scientific background to his. With the added benefit of keeping a more martial tradition.”
On cue the Sergeant turns to the final member of her division.
At almost a head taller than Ford, the hunched cover woman slinks back slightly at the social spotlight. Leather armor studded with metallic bolts, a loose fitted uniform laid across a deceptively thin frame; light plating hiding a lethal weapon of flesh, sinew, and raw instinct. Two horns protrude from dark hair, the pale human form betrayed by a hellish heritage from once cursed tiefling bloodlines.
“That’s Officer Alse Ican.” The Sergeant announces. “Hope you two get along.”
The recognition of physical prowess as eyes meet in greeting; the apex of the humanoid form wrought by discipline and training. Two bodies take stock within each other; the tension palpable in quiet conflict.
“Nice sword…” Officer Ican quietly notes as she peeks at the hilt of the sheathed weapon, “... and nice to meet you.”
“Thanks.” Ford nods quickly. “It was my dad’s.”
She specifies with extreme quiet. “Was?”
Jason Ford realizes the implication, an awkward smile as he attempts to recover from the mistake. “I… I got it as a birthday gift for 16. My dad’s fine, he’s still alive.”
The silence continues on for a few more seconds, interrupted as Sergeant Jarka barely holds in her curiosity. “I’m sorry, but I don’t mean to assume. But is your father the… you know?”
“My father.” The young man answers the racially charged question. “But my mom and dad are living in Tideson right now.”
“Born and raiiiised Souther!” Underfoot sings aloud as the district is named. “And bourgeoisie as fuck like the gods intended.”
“Well it's good that we have another chimera, other than me of course.” Sergeant Jarka smiles at the answer from her new squad member, turning to the one unintroduced soul still remaining in the office. “Silvia!”
Form found at the messiest desk, the coverings of takeout packaging and disposed pizza boxes branded from Arni’s Own hiding a distinct lack of actual paperwork. Behind it all lounges a woman of disconcerting beauty; her thin form beneath long silvery hair a little too perfect in proportions. A gorgeous face and impossibly gray eyes pushing her into an uncanniness of facial recognition.
Though, the unkempt uniform was jarring in comparison to the flesh; the stains of grease and mismatched buttons upon a fraying jacket destroying any conceptualization of responsibility from an initial impression.
A smooth voice marred by a mouthful of food, her response echoing through the office space in unprepared surprise. “What?! Oh shit!”
Not even getting up from her desk, she simply waves as she greets herself from afar. “Heey! I’m Silvia! Nice to meet youuu!”
The Captain adds rank and purpose to the casual answer. “That’s Police Lieutenant Silvia Silvin.”
A cohort completed, Captain Grunsen continues along the absentees. “I’d would’ve liked introduce you to our Special Investigations Division, but they’re currently out on assignment. And our dispatcher Markin’s out for lunch, but you’ll get to know them eventually.”
“What she’s saying is that you shouldn't worry about the bastards in the S.I.D. giving us their dirty work.” Sergeant Jarka assures as she points to the single, divided cards table squeezed at the corner of the space. “Ryce and Tan are more… eccentric. But I think you’ll get along with them just fine.”
“Thank you ma’am.” The young man nods as he hides confusion.
A silence descends upon the world, the bustle of the world beyond the walls slowly creeping in against a lowered noise level. Neighs of horses intermix with arguments of street merchants, the chattering of wheels against cobblestone echoing through thin windows.
Sergeant Jarka claps her hands, signaling the entire team. “Alright now that introductions are done, let’s seize some drugs!”