Somewhere in a dark room a teenage boy was contemplating whether or not he really wanted to be in the same room as a man who kept a half rotted human head with him at all times.

"Don't worry, you won't feel a thing," the wizened old man said as he reached out for the boy's left arm, "Until I start that is."


The old man stopped, "Are you sure this is what you want? You need certain skills and some talent to be…"

"I know what I'm doing," The boy held out his arm, "Just get it over with already," The young man turned his head away and shut his eyes muttering under his breath, "You could have at least let me think it would be painless…"

Wrapping his arms around the young man's upper arm, the elderly figure began to mutter under his breath, and almost instantly the young man felt as if his arm was being frozen and fried at the same time, it was a painfully numbing sensation that lasted all of three seconds. When the old man removed his hands, a strange, green pattern was wrapped around the teen's arm.

"Was…that…all," the young man croaked, "Didn't…hurt…much."

"I'm surprised you didn't cry out. Even some of the older ones cry out when the get the banding—" the old man stopped and stared hard at the pattern on the teen's arm, "I must say, you don't get green one's that often…"

"If that's all, Wizr Cravits, then I really should be heading out. Gotta get my stuff and start the job and whatnot."

"Before you go, what's your name? For the register."

"What? Oh it's…yeah that's it, it's Dexog." The teen replied before leaving.

For a minute after Dexog's departure, Cravits stared after him, as if expecting the world to collapse around the boy. When nothing happened, the old man sat down at his desk and began a letter, "I must tell the Registrar. That young one…" Cravits started laughing, and couldn't stop for a fullfive minutes, once he regained his composure, though, the elderly figure decided he must tell the Registrar in person about Dexog, the latest Joat.