It’s another bright, hot day in the verdant palace courtyard. The three recruits stand in a line, dripping with sweat as the massive purple shoulder pads push down on them and the thick black garments trap the heat from the blazing sun that’s reflecting a blinding shine against the medals adorning everyone’s chest. The uniforms are heavy, stuffy, itchy, and far too tight fitting for anyone’s comfort. 

Much to everyone else’s gratitude, one recruit stands in front, between the hot light of the sun and the rest of the recruits; his enormous height allowed the sun to cast a shadow more than large enough to cover everyone. The dark skinned woman next to him wipes her forehead with her wrist before tying up her red hair. Though it would be nice and easy to blame the heat, the anticipation and anxiety battling within them all would cause them to sweat just as profoundly even if the ceremony were to be held at night.

A sharp howl breaks through the buzzing heat, dragging a chilling breeze behind it. Everyone directs their attention to the large black wolf making its way down gold-lined amethyst stairs that lead out into the courtyard from the palace. The man walking behind it carries himself with grace, confidence, and elegance. His mighty demeanor matches his all purple uniform, fitted with more medals than anyone there combined, and only enhances further as he comes closer with each step. His already short hair contains a clearing wherein a ghastly scar rests on his temple. All this with the combination of his battle hardened glare and physique gave him such a threatening presence as to make even the giant in their midst cower ever slightly. 

“Aside from Lady Satanna herself, and the royal family, there is no higher position Magic could ever hope to attain!” A trail of pride follows the words of his strong voice. Looking at his recruits, his thick beard rustles; a smile beaming with admiration he cannot hold back. He quickly hardens his face with a sharp inhale. “We are defenders of our land!” He walks past the giant. “We are protectors of our nation!” He walks past the red haired woman. “We are saviors of the less fortunate!” He stops in front of the third recruit, and casts his stern red gaze toward the verdant pastures of his young subordinate. “There are those among our gracious numbers that would succumb to the tainted allure of Foul Magic! It is our duty to dispose of such urchins! Be they friends, or family!” The man leans in close and speaks low. “Got that, daddy’s boy?” After receiving a nod from his new recruit, he straightens out and raises his voice again. “We are the first and last line of defense against these betrayers of Magic! For the perseverance of peace for our people and tranquility for our nation, we must swear to destroy any who dare be foolish enough to twist Lady Satanna’s ever gracious gift for their own Foul ends! For it is Lady Satanna that has graced us with this bountiful land and prosperous dynasty! And it is her Magic that binds us not just to the land, but to ourselves, and each other! Lady Satanna is Magic! Terra Magica is Magic! And all that resides in its precious boundaries is Magic! To turn Foul is to reject and betray this gift! It is our birthright to defend this land from Foul Magic! This is our oath! Through many trials and tribulations, you have earned the spot you stand in today! Allow yourselves a moment to feel pride, if you have not already.” He offers a generous pause. “I, Ozias, ask you one final time: Are you prepared to swear by the oath?!”

“SIR, YES SIR!” All three yell out in synchronization. 

The man lifts his hands in the air and draws a rune too fast for anyone to see. Within seconds, a rune sears into their hand. Though invisible to their eyes, the burning pain allows them to memorize the rune nearly instantly.

“This is the mark of your ascension! Maduul Jara! Karota! Alvarez LaSatanna! Hold yourselves high with pride from here on out! For you are now, and shall forever be, honored with the title of Venator!”