He pulls a crumpled parchment from his coat, squinting through bloodshot eyes and muttering under his breath.
"Right, listen up!"
The river of people flowing through the square pay him no heed. A concerned woman drops a few coppers at his feet and rests a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
"You poor soul."
He shrugs her off with a scowl, pulling a heavy club from his belt and raising it above his head. Paunch straining against his ill-fitting breastplate and eyes bulging beneath the rim of his dented helmet, he pivots and slams the club down on the Stone of Tear. Despite bringing his considerable weight to bear, the immense power-wrought fortress endures the petty assault and responds with a deep gong. It sounds faintly bemused, if such a thing is possible. This will not be the day it falls. Nevertheless, it has the desired effect as a few people split off from the throng to see the commotion. Smiling at his own genius, Delion rears up to his full height of four feet, ten inches and begins to work his audience.
"It's that time of the year again. We've lost too many applicants to the swamps, the usual rate of deserting and the ill-advised camping trip to Tremalking, when someone steered the ship into High Lord Astor's pleasure barge before we even left port. All hands were lost."
A tanned sailor squints at the Defender.
"Aren't you the guy? On all the wanted posters they stuck up after that?"
"Would I be here in the middle of Tear if that was the case? No. Don't ask stupid questions."
The sailor looks over Delion's shoulder at a faded poster, glancing between the two for a moment. Nodding to himself, he slips back into the crowd as the man in black and gold continues.
"So I'm here for a recruitment drive, and to remind everyone that we'll take literally anyone, no questions asked."
A small boy raises his hand.
"Can I be a Defender of the Stone?" he says in a high falsetto voice.
"Of course." replies the Defender.
A tall, pale man with no eyes smiles as he raises his hand and hisses, "May I join the ranks?"
"By all means. Why even this chap over here-"
He gestures at a man lying in the shade of a tree. His white shirt is stained brown from an old wound, the long knife still sticking out his chest. A small dog gnaws at his exposed ankle.
"Actually now I think about it, there are a few caveats. You've gotta be level twenty-five or higher."
"What's a level?" someone yells from the back.
"You can't y'know, have a Tear Warrant or be a trolloc or anything. Probably get me in trouble if I keep clanning them. Oh, and you can't be able to channel the one power. Nasty stuff that. Still yourself first before applying. If none of those apply to you we'll slap a coat on your back, toss you a sword and point you in the direction of things we need the sword stuck into."
Captain Rodrivar Tihera appears from a side street, accompanied by the tanned sailor. His normally unreadable countenance doesn't seem to waver as he catches sight of Delion. But to the trained eye, a brief flicker of confusion, rage and horror play across his granite features. With a slight nod, the patrol of soldiers following him begin to work their way through the crowd towards the speaker. Blissfully unaware, the rogue defender clambers up onto a nearby bench.
"There's a few tasks we get you to carry out when you join us. You ain't a technically real Defender til you hit the second rank. They're simple enough. Find the best bars in Tear, find the best bars in Andor, find the best bars in Cairhien, that sorta thing. Give me or anyone else in a black and gold coat, assuming they ain't nicked it, a shout and we can induct ya into our team and help you get through the tasks. Send all complaints to the Captain or the council. Hope you do better than the last lot I accidentally drowne- that someone accidentally drowned."
Delion sweeps his arm in the direction of the audience.
"You're all Defenders now. Find the Captain and ask him for coats. And to give me the password to get in the Stone, he keeps changing it for some reason. Now, I must bid you ardieu. adjoo. adjrew. Goodbye."
With an unsteady flourish, he attempts a bow. The first Defender to have forced his way through the front of the crowd notes that he appears to have fallen asleep, likely lessening the pain of landing face first into cobblestones.
"NOTHING TO SEE HERE, LOITERERS WILL BE FINED!" Captain Rodriver yells as he reaches the unconscious man. He pauses for a moment before turning back to address the crowd.
"If you do think you've got what it takes, please contact the Defenders on wotmod.org or message one of my soldiers in-game at any time. Now clear off."
Official Defender Requirements and additional info:
-Channelers need not apply. Immediate removal from clan upon being found to be a channeler of any variety.
-A quick chat about why you want to join. Acceptable examples include: "I like the colour scheme." and "I want to help pacify West Tear (the nation formerly known as Illian)."
-Rank 1 consists of ten small tasks familiarising yourself with the Defenders of the Stone, Tear and the surrounding area. Do all ten, someone will bump you up to rank 2 and you're free to travel the world gathering fame/infamy for Tear and ostensibly doing your job defending the Stone.