The Sherriff's office was... not what Beck had expected.

Despite all the stories he had heard of their strength and benevolence, etcetera etcetera, the building before him seemed almost exceedingly humble. Old whitewashed stone topped with clay shingles, with twisted wood holding up an awning of the same. That same wood comprised the open door and shutters facing the street. A single wrought iron cell could be seen through the doorway, stretching across the entire back wall.

A stone desk sat slightly to the left of the entrance, built into the wall, and behind it sat the Sherriff, feet up with a lit cigarette in his mouth and his hat pulled down over his eyes. Standing in the doorway, Beck could hear the man snoring softly, smoke being expelled from his nostrils with every exhale.

It took a single glance to take in the interior of this single room building. His assessment from the outside was mirrored here; the only furniture beside the Sherriff's desk was a long bench in the cell. Beck got the impression the Sherriff didn't entertain guests often.

"'Ain't got time to teach you nothing' my ass." He turned back to the Sherriff to wake him, but instead found gray eyes drilling holes in his head. He hadn't even noticed when the snoring stopped, and now the human was sitting on the edge of his desk, taking a silent pull of his cigarette. Neither of them said anything, nor made a move.

For an uncomfortable stretch of time, the man studied him, those piercing eyes taking in every detail. Suddenly, Beck was very conscious of the many soot splotches, burn marks, and other various stains on his body and clothes. When the last of the ashes fell from the Sherriff's lips, he leaned back and spit the butt out of the window before standing. Even with the distance between them, it felt like the human was towering over him.

"So, yer still alive. Find a gun?" The Sherriff nodded to the rifle slung over his shoulder, to which Beck nodded. "Good. Didn't wanna do the paperwork." As he spoke, he circled back around his desk and started riling through drawers. "'Course, I still gotta get all yer information, but that ain't no big deal." His head popped up from the side nearest the wall. "You _can_ read and write, can't ya?"

Beck nodded, and he went back to his search through the drawers. "Where did I put it? Ah, there ya are." He stood, placing a single sheet of paper and pen on the desk. "Just fill that out with all yer status stuff and we'll get ya goin'." With that done, the Sherriff plopped back into his chair and propped his feet back onto the desk. It wasn't long before the soft snoring started up again.

Upon closer inspection, the paper proved to be a form with spaces for his name, race, Skills, and other system-specific things. It didn't take him long to fully fill it out, and by the end, it looked almost identical to his own status screen. Which, upon reflection, was probably the idea. With nothing else to do, he tapped the Sherriff's boot with the pen.

"Done already?" The man didn't give any signal that he had woken up, just returned his feet and the chair's to the ground and began reading through the form. "Ya sure specialized quick, huh? Not bad, though. Little behind for yer age, but we can work on that." He started biting the butt end of the pen, which Beck hadn't even noticed him pick up. "You kin to Wyatt Breen, by any chance? Never did find him after he dropped out."

Beck nodded. "He, uh, he was my Pa. Like I said before, the Rotters killed him and Ma."

The Sherriff looked up at him for the first time since he got the form back. "Oh. You poor boy. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. You ain't the one killed em. What's next?"

A sigh escaped the human's lips. "Well, you can't be formally deputized yet, but I can put you in as a trainee. I'll send this through to headquarters in the mornin', but for now, you're gon' need one more weapon Skill." Beck cocked his head to the side at that, and the Sherriff continued. "I'm sure you know about needin' **[Healing Hands]**, and that's cause you need it for the Tier 3 Skill **[Smite]**. And to get that, you gotta have a Skill for fightin' up close. I know you got two right now, but only one is gonna cut it. **[Knifework]** isn't technically a fightin' Skill, if you go by system definitions.

"Still, you're gonna wanna fuse that with **[Longarms]**. Usin' **[Pugilism]** with it'd just give you somethin you wouldn't be able to use, anyway. So," The man hopped up from where he was sitting and walked to the center of the room. As Beck watched, still processing the Skill information, he buried the toe of his boot into a crack in the floor. The grinding of stone on stone resounded throughout the building, heralding the rising alcove chock full of different melee weapons. "Take yer pick, and we'll get to learnin'."

To say there were a lot of weapons in a small space was an understatement. There were swords, axes, clubs, hammers, and a whole lot more besides. Even a couple polearms were squeezed into it. But none of those really caught his eye; a number of them were heavier than he liked, and the others just seemed like they'd get in the way. In the end, near the back, he found what he was looking for: light, compact, and maneuverable. A whip.

He hadn't had any experience with them, aside from watching the Wheya during that fight, but he had seen what they could do. Besides, the entire point was that he was learning, right? As he left the cramped space, the formation sank back down into the floor and revealed the Sherriff standing on the opposite side. Beck jumped when he spoke, "A whip, huh? Not a normal choice, but I'm sure you'll make it work. C'mon."

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The Sherriff was walking out the back door before he even had a chance to say anything. Beck ran to catch up before he lost his new mentor. Soon enough, they were stood on the edge of the lake for which Oasis was named. The water was crystal clear for a long way, before the light gave out and left the bottom in complete darkness. It may be even deeper than the bottom of the ruin.

The human's words brought him out of his thoughts. "You ready, kid?" When he looked to him, the man was holding his arms to the side, legs spread wide. "Try to hit me. Now, don't look at me like that. Even if ya land a hit, it won't hurt. I'm a mite tougher'n I look, after all."

Beck could only shrug as he dropped into a modified shooting stance. "Modified" in that he was holding a whip instead of a crossbow, so the arm holding his weapon trailed behind while his free arm was held out a bit for balance. When the older man offered no correction, he got cracking. Or tried to, anyway. His attempts were met with only a single crack, sandwiched between long strings of muted thumps and a distinct lack of strikes on the Sherriff. By the time the human called for him to stop, he was covered in sweat from his continuous exertion.

He didn't even notice the man beside him until he made the mistake of clapping him on the shoulder, but the Sherriff didn't seem to mind the amount of sweat on his hand. "How 'bout you go on and take a dip in the pond? Cool off a little 'fore we get to talkin' about goin on here."

He could only nod through his labored breathing. Once he had waded to about waist-deep, he let himself fall into the water face first. The gentle waves buoyed him about as his gills opened and set to work, while he simply floated there, allowing the cool water to sap away the heat of his exertion. Turning over to face the sun through the surface, his mind drifted to the free points he had earned at the end of the Ruin. Spending them both on either Dexterity or Constitution would lead to him selecting a Boon, and while he hadn't wanted to deal with it before, it was still an appreciable jump in strength. And without strength, he would never be able to change or protect anything.

So, he pumped both points into Dexterity. The gaudy gold and purple screen welcomed him, along with the much easier to look at screen that held his choices.

Congratulations! You have breached the First Threshold in Dexterity!

As a reward, you may choose from three Boons determined by your previous accomplishments!

\\\\\\ Boons ////// Boon of the Hare Boon of the Panther Boon of the Viper

As soon as he finished reading his options, he emerged from the water and made his way back to land, drying himself with [Shape Water] as he did so. He had a pretty good idea of which one he was going to choose from the moment he read it, but it wouldn't hurt to ask someone with knowledge.

"Hare, Panther, and Viper." The Sherriff chuckled at that. "Those're actually pretty normal. Well, Hare pretty much just makes you run faster and jump higher, whereas Panther is some kinda general movement boost with some sneaky stuff slipped in. Viper really just makes you more flexible. Not really much to that one, from what I hear."

That simply cemented the decision he had already made.

Shadows that Stalk The Boon of the Panther grants an increase to speed, climbing ability, and general agility. In addition, this Boon confers a preternatural quiet to the holder, silencing any unconscious noises.

Well, that explained how the Sherriff was so quiet. Speaking of which, at some point the human had gotten well within arm's reach. Again, Beck jumped, though this time it was quite a bit higher than he was used to. He landed just fine, but the increase was still a bit jarring. "You've gotta have some kind a' stealth Skill or somethin'."

He simply shrugged. "Guilty as charged. But that ain't what matters right now. Yer sloppy. Yer comin' in from every angle you can think of, and that's normally good, but you gotta think about where the mass is on yer whip, too. You'll never get any power in it like that even if you do hit what yer aimin' for." He looked to the sky, and a sigh escaped his lips. Beck hadn't even noticed the colors of the sunset until then. "But hey, its gettin' late. Should probably call it a day. I got stuff to do, and you got some sleep to catch. Trust me on one thing, son? You take your sleep when you can get it in this line a' work."

Before he could make it too far away, Beck grabbed him by the wrist. "Hold on. Back in the saloon, you said you didn't have time to teach me. What changed? Did you just change you mind or what?"

When the Sherriff turned his way, his face had lost the kindness that had adorned it since they had arrived at the lake. "You see a lot in this work, son. Things no man should ever be witness to. Face a lot of situations that you shouldn't. And at the end of the day, you're lucky to be alive. I sent you down there because I didn't want to take a risk on trainin' a boy who'd die soon as Rotters got on him. I wanted to make sure you could handle this profession.

"One more thing before I go, kid. You ain't just gonna be fightin Rotters and whatever got left in the Ruins. There'll be livin', breathin' people you'll have to kill. So if you don't think you can do that, whatever your reason, it'd be best to follow your daddy and drop out. If you think you can, though, I'll swear you in tomorrow mornin. Just find me in the office."