Gajahn the Hunter
"You're not even allowed. A venator would never even look for you."
Gajahn's sister had never trusted him. When he started his bounty hunting guild she said it'd never work. "You never learned how to use a gun," she said. Well, Gajahn trained, and the guild ended up being a loss in coin and time that he had to shut down, but that definitely wasn't due to shoddy marksmanship.
"By the time I'm back, I'll be a member of the Prince's Guard. You'll see."
His parents had died recently and in their will they had left an ample sum of coin to him, and within the vault, he found a few soul coins. They whispered to him, and in their wails he learned that the janissaries would add anyone into their ranks who could pay, even a human noble like him. He thought, "Well, this is my chance," and he set up a meeting with them. They asked for a thousand platinum coins or so, and once he delivered, they told him that all he had to do was meet them in Al'Zelium and he'd be one of them.
By the time Gajahn showed up, the fortress of Al'Zelium had been outside of Hellum for some time, restocking its men with new recruits. To Gajahn, it already seemed like home what with its massive angelic wings that had been sloppily coated in paint and the stained glass windows which showed the exploits of the devilish venators and their aasimar followers. The massive cathedral was almost as large as the district that Gajahn lived in and he was ready to see the world from something that was the comfortable size he had already gotten used to.
Walking through one of the small doors in the side of the cathedral, Gajahn was oblivious to the snickering of the aasimar in the bork hats.
"Another noble, not ready for this life."
"He'll probably be too stupid to notice."
Gajahn was too stupid to notice that the cries he heard when he sat down at the table were coming from a living being. "Sounds like you have an engine on the fritz."
When they gave him his hat, he was exhilerated. "Thank you, thank you, fellow janissary."
"Not quite yet," followed the harsh voice of the halfling aasimar. "Put it on."
Gajahn, as he near always did and as he near always should do, followed the orders of the authority figure in the room with him. Then, the short tail of the hat was laid over his eyes by the halfling.
"Ah, so I'm being hazed huh? Well, let me tell you, I have been hazed before and I'm going to hate you for a little while, but we'll be best friends after."
"All you'll be doing is having a meal."
"Testing my senses. Very interesting."
Gajahn heard the platter being placed down in front of him. He reached his hands out trying to find what it was. The first thing he felt was strange like a long tendril. "Is it a kraken? Are you having me eat a kraken."
The tentacle seemed to shift in his hands. He heard a quiet noise that he could not quite place. Like the sound of a poor trumpet player or again like an engine that had stopped working.
He kept moving his hands upwards and felt something slightly rounded but thin and feathery.
"Good, now eat," he heard the halfling say.
He hesitated for a moment and thought about what he was doing, but he remembered that this is what he came here to do. He remembered all that he had given to reach this point, and he can't turn back now.
Gajahn tore the bundle of feathers off of their base, and the sound of the trumpet grew louder and louder. He brought the bundle up to his mouth, having never eaten a bird before. Biting into it immediately hurt, and he could taste his mouth filling up with blood, but as it did, he felt hungrier.
As he reached down to grab another piece, light shined through the hat, almost blinding him, but he felt that he had to keep going. His hands found another bundle of feathers, and his fingers found the incision that was made on the thing he was eating. He pulled it off and into his mouth it went, the taste of his own blood being foreign and the taste of this thing becoming a necessary part of his life.
The long tail of the bork fell to the side, and Gajahn saw what he had been eating laid out in front of him. Its hollow breathes sounding through its trunk, there was a small golden elephant in front of him that had its legs bound to the large platter it was carried in on. There were two heavily bleeding spots on its body that were oozing blood onto the fluffy fur around them.
Then his eyes caught the two remaining wings on the creature. They had been tied together with wire and careful incisions were made, allowing them to be easily torn from the creature's body. Upon seeing them, Gajahn's hands reached out, and they looked different, paler to him. He ripped both wings off at once and watched the creature slowly shrink back as blood poured out of it, covering the platter. He jammed the wings into his mouth, and he could taste the sweet feathers and blood, but there was still too much of his own. He dropped to his knees and began licking the blood pouring on the plate. When the plate was clean and shining, he looked up and saw the eyes of the hollyphant slowly close and the world went dark.
The next time that Gajahn saw his sister, she had been sentenced to execution for treason; she had participated in illegal foreign trade of soul coins.
"Sister, you wound me so. How could you break our great city's laws?"
"Gajahn? Where have you been." She proceeded to squint at him, and in shock said, "Your green eyes. Theyre entirely white now. What happened to you? I thought that you had failed again and didn't want to come home."
"I'm a member of the Grand Duke's Guard now, and I hunt those who would hurt him."
The aasimar janissary grabbed his tusk of gunpoweder and loaded his weapon. He aimed, and he showed his sister just how well he trained.
Civilianization?
Within the past 100 years or so, the once exclusive order of the janissaries allowed people who were neither children nor aasimar to join their ranks. This was initially met by displeasure by the janissaries who spent their whole lives training to become their regimented order.
However, by the time that these recruits have become full members of the janissaries, they have been converted to the doctrines and lineage of the janissary. Although converted janissaries may lack the skill of natural-born and trained janissaries, they retain the discipline that the order has come to be known for.
A Sign of Converts
All Janissary converts are marked by the characteristic difference of the vessel they carry their gunpowder in. Rather than the characteristic horns of gunpowder carved from fallen devils that has become a symbol of the order, the converted janissaries carry white tusks of gunpowder.
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