“So, you’re 18?”
	“Yes, sir.”
	“And you wish to join this army?”
	“Yes, sir.”
	“What are you advanced in? What skills?”
	“I can fight with any weapon you put in my hands. Even if I’ve never seen it before, I can figure out how to use it easy. I’m a jack of all trades, I guess you could say.”
	“Uh-huh. Well, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your living quarters. Bring your belongings, too.” The general of the army of the great town of Icton stands up. “What did you say your name was, again? Please forgive me, my memory isn’t what it used to be. Also, where are you from and such? My vision is a tad weaker than it used to be.”
	“My name is Dan, sir. I’ve lived in Icton all my life. My doctor says I’m about 6’4” and my eyes are a dull gray.” I respond to him.
	“You won’t remain Dan for long. Most of the boys here give each other nicknames, just for the fun of it. I never really got into that during my days in the army, but hey, whatever you guys want.”
We walk through the camp. Me, being brand new, receive a lot of dirty looks from the older guys surrounding me. They all dropped what they were doing just to look.
	“Uh, sir? Does this happen every time there is a new recruit or something?” I ask.
	“Not usually. But then again most new guys don’t come in prepared with a sword on their waist, a bow and quiver strapped onto their shoulders, and armor clanking in their backpacks.” He responds, very softly. He seems like a nice man, with graying hair and a 5 o clock shadow. He isn’t too tall.
I get assigned to Battalion G-87. I throw my stuff onto my bunk, and quickly do the first thing that I was told to do. Get associated with the battalion leader.
	“Hey lookie here, boys. A new blood. Nice to meet you. My name’s Ripshaw, and I’ll be your battalion leader.” He says, cracking a knuckle.
	I extend my arm to shake his. “Hi, I’m Dan, nice to meet you too.”
He smacks my hand away and pushes me down to the ground, causing the rest of the guys to erupt in laughter. ‘I’m not that nice, kid.” He must have noticed my face getting red. I felt it burning up. “Aw, is the baby gonna go and cry to mommy?” He taunts.
	“No way, bud. I don’t do ‘crying’. Especially to mommy.”
Do you want to know why I don’t go cry to mommy? Cause I don’t have one. Her, along with my father, died when I was only 10. The doctors came by and did a total autopsy. They both died of Typhoid. I was never the same again, seeing their bodies carted off. We were a somewhat popular family around town, so a lot of people showed up at their funerals. Many people offered to take care of me, but I declined, mentioning a fake aunt who lived in a fake town in a fake country. They didn’t know any better. After I paid a huge sum of money for the funeral and an even larger sum of money to the town orphanage to stay out of there, I took what really mattered to me and went off to live off the land. I lived in the woods behind my house, hunting, camping, and surviving, for as long as I could remember.
The flashback hits me hard. I stagger getting up, and a few guys run over to help me out.
“Don’t worry about him, kid.” Says one.
“Yeah, he did that to all of us.” Said another.
“Seriously man. What’s your name?” asked the third.
“My name’s Dan. Who are you guys?”
The first guy, flipping back his hair, revealing a bright red streak, said “You can call me Phoenix.”
The second one, a younger boy, said, after pushing up his glasses “The name’s X-ray. I’m an archer and the long range specialist here. Not to brag or anything.” He chuckles, putting out his hand. I happily shake it.
The last guy, older than the rest, with spiked up hair, proudly says “I’m Zane. I specialize in nothing in particular. I’m kind of like a jack of all trades.” That’s good to hear, I think.
	“Oh that’s cool, so am I, I think. At home I was good with most stuff, as you can see by my gear I have,” I point towards my stuff, and put my hand on the sheath of my sword.