Pyro of the Craven

Arcane Legion - a Pyro of the Craven Story

Odic-Force. People say that it comes from the force of life and that it is part of everyone. While many people awaken it at the moment of their birth, some take years and still fail at it. Those who practice the use of Odic-Force are often called 'Ryoshi'. Fortunately, there are many Training Facilities (Schools) to make sure those who wield this power wield it responsibly.

In the country of Zelkova, there are cities, villages, districts and many more places to live and work. Although some places elect a person as their Leader, the government themselves appoints a person who not only has the potential as a leader but also possesses the Odic-Force. This Person is called the Collector. Both Leader and Collector have the administrative command over an entire area. While the Leader is appointed in a locality where the practice of Odic-Force is almost none, the idea of a 'Collector' being appointed to a certain region is because they can handle any calamity that could occur involving the use of Odic-Force. One can say they are the strongest Ryoshi in that region. They are also assigned with collecting information and reporting any new discovery/research about the Odic-Force in that area directly to the government. There are many more prominent people whom we will learn about later in the other stories.

Nuville City, Country of Zelkova

From the moment Lakhan Khatri was born, the Khatri family had high hopes for him. There was just something about the infant boy as he rested in his mother's arms that spoke of promise. Even when he caught scarlet fever at the age of two, he prevailed over the illness as they would have expected from such a promising child -- or so they thought.

He began his formal training in the family swordsmanship as soon as he was old enough to lift a small practice sword. He was barely four years old, but as soon as his little fingers touched that sword, his father got a fleeting glimpse of the child's full potential -- something great and formidable, something that, if properly nurtured, could far exceed his own mastery of the Katana. Lakhan Khatri was going to be an incredible Ryoshi.

Lakhan was enrolled in the Rogarth Academy at the age of five, and even by then, there were whispers of his unofficial title as the family prodigy. He was expected to graduate by the age of ten. Fate, it seemed, had different plans in mind for him.

His parents thought it a little odd and a little worrisome that he fell under the weather at least twice as often as his peers -- that his colds and bouts of flu lasted longer than they should have; that the child, even so young, grew to look perpetually tired. It was even more alarming when, at the age of six, their usually complacent son began to constantly complain of pain in his wrists and knees, or when he had to stop in the middle of a training session with his father because of a spontaneous coughing fit. By the time he was six and a half, his parents were significantly concerned. It didn't seem like a phase that would simply pass. The boy who had only just begun to earn the official title of family prodigy was looking like he might already lose it.

They took him to the doctors. They didn't know what was wrong with him, and it was difficult to say. Series after series of tests were conducted, results carefully examined, reassessed, and jumbled about like bone dice in a cup. But no matter how they were rolled, the numbers read the same.

There wasn't even really a specific name for what was wrong with him. There was the respiratory problem, but his parents had suspected that for some time. All the doctors could tell them was that there was something wrong with his immune system, with his whole body, -- it was as if something was eating at him from the inside out, very, very slowly. It wasn't something terminal, but he wasn't healthy. He was just sick. The disease accounted for the fatigue, for the constant illness, for the pains all over. Even at just under seven years old, Lakhan seemed to understand what the doctor was telling his parents. His pale little feet swung idly from the examination table.