The Last Battle (open)

[Matalina]

OOC: A few light rules. There are no specific characters, no bios, you can write multiple characters in this one thread, have fun. However you cannot RP as one of the main book characters. You may watch them do things. ie: Rand blew up the trolloc. Please don't think for any character in the book. You may have a conversation with them, kill them, but whatever happens must be followed by the rest of the thread. We will pick up after the events in Knife of Dreams, skipping the "tie up elements" that will happen and go directly into the last Battle. All things that happened in the books thus far have happened now and in that exact order. You can be whatever you wish to be but not the main characters (trying to avoid infringing on copyright)

 

IC:

 

I may be but a lowly darkfriend, but when there is need all were called. The Last Battle was at hand and I was here to see that the Great Lord prevailed. The Chosen called out to every known darkfriend who could weild a weapon, the Pit of Doom, the slopes of Shayol Ghul were going to fall under attack, we must be prepared.

 

I stood out and watched as the human's prepared for battle. There was a nervous twitch to most of the men and boys, there were even woman fighting along side. Anyone who could weild a stick had been called. There were farmers and nobels standing next to each other. The battle lines were getting ready.

 

If you looked out beyond the throng of humans you could see the hulking shadows of trollocs and fades and other shadowspawn some that I'd never even heard of. Rows upon rows of trollocs, as far as they eyes could see lined the slopes of Shayol Ghul. Fades in the harsh crackly voices called out orders. The grumbling of trollocs could be heard for miles and the humans all looked about wearily. It wouldn't be the first time one of them was taken for the holiday meal.

 

Time seemed to stand still as we all waited on the slopes of Shayol Ghul, but we would be prepared when the forces of the Dragon came. I just hope it won't be too long. I don't want to die in a trolloc pot.

[Guest Kaile]

"Any orders from Lord Mat yet sir?"

 

Coramelle Dariyan, Banner-General of the Band was getting tired of waiting. His Banner of Lancers had been sitting here on this hill for an interminable time. It seemed the greatest battle of this age would also be the most boring. For now anyway.

 

Coramelle had joined the Band not too long ago, bringing with him a thousand lancers, he and his men had forsworn all oaths to their Lord and pledged themselves to the Lord Dragon and more so Lord Mat. His Lord had decided to hide from Tarmon Gai'don, Coramelle had found himself unable to turn his back on the rest of the world. And Lord Mat was the only man he had ever willingly followed, and would continue to follow, even into the teeth of the Dark One.

 

So here he was, waiting on a hill somewhere in Kandor, waiting for the battle to end all battles.

 

Aldean, who had just voiced the question everyone was asking, was his new second in command. Ever since Taril had been killed in skirmish with trollocs a month before. Of course skirmish's lately had come closer to full scale battles. The Dark One seemed to have no end of shadowspawn to throw against the Dragon.

 

"No Aldean, no orders, Carmise and Nevarn haven't returned yet. Are the men ready? We must be able to leave as soon as we get the message."

 

Smiling inwardly at the harried nod the man gave him Coramelle returned to watching the Traveling post. Of course Aldean had the men ready, he was a competent officer. Coramelle was just on edge, and who wouldn't be? It wasn't everyday day you fought for the safety of the Pattern.

 

Carmise and Nevarn were the Aes Sedai and Asha'man assigned to Coramelle's Banner. He still found Aes Sedai bonding men who could channel strange, but they made a formidable weapon and anything that kept his men alive was worth keeping around.

 

Suddenly a Gateway formed in front of the Banner-General. Reigning in Red he steeled himself for what was coming. This was it, and he wasn't ready, blood and bloody ashes he wasn't ready. How could he ever be ready? But it didn't matter, his men needed him, and his family needed him to be strong. This was it, time to make the Dark One fear. Time to make the fire fall in the Blight.

 

"Do we attack?"

 

~Coramelle Dariyan~

Banner-General of the Band

[U4ea]

Loraine tightened her grip on the reins, her horse tensing as they pulled taunt from his mouth. He was well trained and didn't dance out of the way, though. Another thing to be glad of on such a challenging journey, she thought to herself. It wasn't the first time she'd thought as much, not with the army of the Dragon divided and descending on Shayol Ghul.

 

Whispers of The Last Battle hung in the air and the chill from the Borderlands settled harshly in her bones. "If only it was just the weather," she muttered softly, turning her head to watch a column of borderlanders move towards the border. She didn't bother ordering them, didn't bother leading them. For once, she was not the person in charge. It was a relief, in some ways, but she couldn't fight the shaking suspicion that this would turn out badly. She always felt that way before a massive battle, such as this one, so it didn't upset her or put her off the serenity that settled so easily on her face. Being Cairhienin had its benefits.

 

The chain in her hair swung loosely across her forehead and she reached towards it to fasten it back into her tightly knotted blond hair. She caught Kynwric's look and arched her eyebrow softly so that only he caught it. Let him say what he wanted, she couldn't afford to be distracted by the odd swing of the pendant on her forehead. She couldn't afford to be distracted by the absence of it, either. Not now. Not with so much as stake.

 

She took a deep breath and dropped her hands to the reigns in her lap again. Using her knees, she directed the horse to follow the others, the sword at her hip bouncing a bit as the horse began moving. Being Cairhien had advantages, but so did being Aes Sedai. Being a Green... well, now that was just more icing on the cake, wasn't it?

[Gaul]

Kielle being newly promoted to Asha'man was heading to the slopes of Shayol Ghul.Kielle was also very strong in the power thus being promoted to Attack Leader. He fianlly came to the big body of soliders and ask for the Lord Dragon Reborn and was told he was preparing himself for battle in his tent. Kielle gave his horse to the stableman and walked to the Dragon Reborn's tent. He looked and and saw the Dragon Reborn was muttering and laughing to himself about 3 women. Kielle cleared his throat and said "I am here my Lord Dragon," the Lord Dragon replied"Good Kielle I would be needing your strength," Kielle gulped. Yes he might die this day but he was doing it for the whole world not just the Lord Dragon Reborn, all the world including his family which was his biggest motivation. The Lord Dragon fianlly said "Kielle I will expect the battle to start in atleast 2 days, prepare yourself and your men," Thats when Kielle realized he was standing infront of a huge body of Asha'man Dedicated and Soliders.[/i]

[Kivam]

OOC - Mat, a little confused by your post. Is your character a human? "Darkfriends" are all human, but he seems to be describing "humans" and their actions from a distance ("one of them" "the humans" etc.)

 

IC

"Meat pies! Meat patties in a bun! Best meal you'll ever have!" Tomuc Relbbid pushed his cart through the camp, easily moving through the "streets" created by resting soldiers. "Last meal you'll ever have," he muttered to himself, eyeing the soldiers who would be fighting tomorrow. Tommuc walked along the rows of carefully laid out weapons and bedrolls, each square guarded by two men in 8, while the others diced around the campfire at the square's center. The military precision of the camp - squares of 8 spaced to form easily navigable aisles at the outer edges of the camp, the distance between them narrowing as they moved inward to funnel intruders down corridors of steel and blood - stood in stark contrast to the haphazard layout of the other components of the Army of the Light. The never changing streets that made it easy for Tomuc to walk the same route each night the army had been on the march were the reason Tomuc had chosen the Band of the Red Hand as the place to ply his wares. One of the reasons, at least.

 

The Band's camp was located at the heart of the Army of the Light, and Tomuc had customers from the Shienaren lancers, Tairen Defenders, Cairhienen cavalry and other portions of the Army who came the short distance into the Band's camp to buy his pies. They really were very good, and Tomuc's wife's idea of putting a meat patty between slabs of bread so it could be eaten on the move had caught on quickly as well. Too quickly - vendors in the other camps had started offering the patty in a bun and cutting into his profits. But that was alright - Tomuc was a quick thinking man, and he was already considering ways of differentiating himself from the others. What if I use two all beef patties, instead of one? Maybe add a little lettuce or onion, give it some crunch? That could work.

 

Tomuc handed his first customer of the night - a Cairhienen servant, no doubt buying for his master - four meat pies. "Careful now - they're hot, and you don't want to drop them." The servant gave him a nod of thanks as he darted off, and Tomuc smiled at himself as he heard his wife's voice take him to task. The battle is tomorrow, your customers will be dead, and you're worried about the other vendors cutting into your profits? You leave tonight, Tomuc. Tonight.

 

As always, Lyenn was right, even when she was only in his head. He had done his part, feeding the soldiers on the march, serving one and all tonight. He had even cut his prices this night, turning away profit for the greater likelihood that he would be able to feed more of the soldiers of the Army of the Light, more of a likelihood that they would have his food inside them when they attempted to defeat the Shadow tomorrow. He had done his part, and none could ask more of him. As soon as his last pie was sold, his last patty eaten, he would ride. Out of the camps, away from the battle, home where he belonged. Tomuc nodded to himself as he absent-mindedly took the coins of the five Band archers who had surrounded his cart and handed them their meals. When the last morsel is eaten, I go.

[Gaul]

Kielle was walking around with the two-hundred-fifty-one soliders for his guard and his 5 Asha'man.

In total Kielle's forces came to two-thousand-three-hundred-two and three-hundred channelers, one hundred newly appointed Asha'man fifty dedicated and one-hundred-fifty Soliders.

 

 

Kielle was telling his men the stratagies and not to waste to much energy before the battle. Kielle notice a food vender walking around the camps muttering to himself that this would be there last meal and the such. Kielle's men were ready before they came to the Last Battle. This is what they have been preparing for a long time... since the M'heal or another title "Darkfriend" Mazrim Taim started the Black Tower.

 

 

It was the night before Tarmon Gaidon and Kielle told all his men they need rest so they can power for all they are worth tomorrow. Rumor has it that the Lord Dragon Reborn has the Choedan Kal with him... If he really did this wasn't going to be a long battle... the last thought Kielle had was of his family and how they could live without him.

[_Kynwric_]

Kynwric was astride his horse slightly to the right and rear of his Aes Sedai, who was in the midst of a long train of other Sisters. He caught the murmur escaping her lips "If only it was just the weather," He glanced skyward and nodded, thinking. Indeed, if it were just the weather all would be well. He left it all unsaid, it was unnecessary to speak anymore out loud. He could feel the movements of the columns of soldiers behind him, more hear the sounds and feel the vibrations of many men and he knew what was happening. He wasn't sure if he was happy about their position in this army, he wasn't sure that this was the best place for them at all. Loraine however made it clear she was a Green and this is what the Greens had been created for, to be at the Last Battle, to fight the Last Battle, to win the Last Battle. He grumbled sightly at the thought of that parituclar conversation, mostly because she had the right of it and he couldn't start to argue with her when she was right. He glanced up at the woman he had sworn to protect with his sword, his skill and his life and noticed the chain and stone on her forehead swing, he knitted his brow at her and she returned it with the barest arch of her eyebrow, he glanced at the stone and back to her face as he schooled his back to stillness. In the back of his mind the thought crossed that he should have made her leave it off a long time ago, something he'd rectify if... no when... they made it out of this battle. He was keeping pace astride out of habit, his knees guiding the horse as much as he just let it follow the others. No need to guide when the animal is going where you want it.

 

Kynwric turned his gaze from Loraine to the march ahead, finally he swung in towards her to see what she had learned in the briefing, to see what they would be charged with doing to win this battle, to win the War.

[U4ea]

Loraine sighed at the tense knot in her head that was her warder, but put it out of her thoughts. The lines of men streaming past her drew her eye and she watched them, her face a cool mask covering the growing unease that ate at her from the inside. Something in the air didn't feel right and she couldn't put her finger on what it was. It was unnerving, though.

 

The day stretched on into night and the lines dismounted to make camp. The routine of brushing down her horse and helping build the cookfires was routine enough that it did little to take her mind off the problem at hand. She wasn't high ranking enough to be included in the brainstorming for this battle, thus she wasn't privy to their master plans. It didn't bother her to be left out of them, but it did bother her not to know what they were walking in to.

 

She sank slowly beside the fire she'd built last, the closest to the small tent Kynwric had put up while she'd been helping the camp with fires. Her eyes rested on the dancing flames as the fire ate away at the wood in the circle of stones before her. They were mesmerizing and she let the fluid movements of the flames lull her into the first small measure of peace she'd had all day. "I don't like the way this feels," she said quietly, keeping her voice low so that only Kynwric could hear her. "I feel like we're walking into a trap and I know I'm not the only one who does. I wish I knew what they were planning..."

[_Kynwric_]

After the tent had been set up and the camp had settled into it's nightly routine. They were sitting together beside the fire when he felt her lean into his ear and whisper. "I don't like the way this feels, I feel like we're walking into a trap and I know I'm not the only one who does. I wish I knew what they were planning..." Kyn nodded, "Indeed, it does." He let out a long sigh and looked around thee camp. "But surely the Captain-General and the war council can see it as well. As for what is being planned, I am sure it is the same plan that they have used countless other times... they'll not change it until it fails. All we can hope for is that this is not that time."

[Matalina]

OOC: He's a darkfriend, observing everything around him, including the other humans...

 

Mat

[Quibby]

Bil Tarin cast a scornful eye over the gathered Darkfriends. Half of them looked terrified to be there. This wasn't an army. It would be the Shadowspawn that did the damage. The Shadowspawn and his brethren. Ageless faces and black coats had gathered in unprecidented numbers, all managing not to kill the other. Today, they shared a single mind. The Great Lord was going to break free. It was up to them to defend Shayol Ghul until he did. Gray eyes looked scornfully on the pins fastened to his collar. The sword and the red-and-gold Dragon. Symbols of his life before revealing himself. Bil passed a hand through his black hair before seizing saidin. His oaths to the Great Lord protected him from the taint; he could feel it sliding around his core, but never touching him. He was safe. The pins on his collar tugged for a moment before coming free. Threads of Fire flowed into each one, turning the suspended metal into a lump of silver and red-stained gold. Air compressed the whole thing, and Bil let it drop carelessly. His old life as a greater man hiding behind the illusion of adherence to the Light was gone. A new day was dawning, a day ruled by the Great Lord of the Dark.

 

Despite having let go of saidin, Bil could still feel it pulsing, calling to him. According to the scouting reports, the army of Lightfools arrayed against them demanded that something be done. They had to die. Saidin had always felt as if it were made for destruction. Wait for the signal, you fool. You were promised immortality if you obeyed. Bil wasn't about to risk losing that; he had dedicated his soul to the Shadow for that very reason. And now he was called to fulfill those oaths. His lips twitched into a semblance of a smile. The Asha'man had taught him well; killing was second-nature to him. However, against an army this large... Even the amassed channelers would only be able to do so much, and the Lightfools had their own channelers.

 

One of the rank-and-file Darkfriends near him was looking nervously at the Trollocs and Fades wandering amongst them. Night was coming, and the Lightfools were probably bedding down, wherever they were making camp. Nightfall here meant that men were going to die. A terrified scream sounded from the Darkfriends. Turning, Bil watched impassively as one of the Trollocs seized ahold of a man, carrying him towards one of the myriad cookpots scattered around the area. The man's screams were fading when they suddenly turned into a wet gurgle. Another Trolloc belly would be full this night.

 

"I hope your Black Tower taught you well," the tall man next to Bil muttered. This man, Ayrik Drayven or whatever he called himself, unsettled Bil. A Darkfriend his entire life, he'd apparently been trained by channelers in the Blight. He was one of the true Dreadlords. Cold, callous, and uncaring, Ayrik didn't seem to look at people like people. Rather, he looked at them as if they were pieces on a stones board. Name or age didn't matter to the likes of him. As long as the right piece was in the right place, it was all the same. Some, Bil knew, would be moved to kill. Others would be moved to die. It was... disconcerting. Even as long as he'd been in the Shadow, Bil couldn't reduce human life so far. It was as if the man believed the ends justified the means. Once again, Bil found himself wondering just what this man would use him for. Would he be sent to kill, or would he be sent to die?

[Lady Saravhem]

Young Jain Dragorn, named for his father's favorite hero of long gone Maliker, eyed the fabled Golden Crane Banner still astonished that it once again flew in defiance of the Shadow. Jain was one of many of Malkeri blood, who where scattered thoughout the Borderlands, and there were many more than most people ever suspected.

 

The Malikeri had blended into their adoptive countries and taken on their customs. Most men had given up the wearing of the hadori, and one no longer saw a woman with the ki'san painted between her brows. Yet families still told their children stories about the bravery and valor of the men of Maliker and of the loyalty and strength of her women. Parents also encouraged the children to marry into other Malikeri families so that noble blood would continue into the future. All boys were taught the use of weapons to keep them strong.

All knew of the uncrowned king al'Lan Mandragoron, and his pledge to dedicated his life avenging the death of the once beautiful Maliker of the lakes. It was the hope that one day the Gold Crane Banner would once again ride the breeze and lead them forth against the Shadow. But it had appeared as if that day would never come.

 

Then came the day a strikingly pretty woman with her hair braided in one long thick braid suddenly appeared in the Shinerian town where Jain's family lived. She was dressed in a well made dress of blue trimmed with green and it was of silk, something almost unheard of in their rural town, but the most astonishing thing about her appearence was the red ki'san painted between her brows. This mysteriuos woman was searching for those of Malikeri blood, she even came to Jain's own house and met with his family. The woman showed Jain's father and mother a large gold ring she wore on a chain around her neck and asked if they knew what it was.

"Aye",his father had answered,"this is the ring of the royal line of Maliker. What do you with it?"

They mystery lady looked Jain's father levelly in the eyes and said, "This is a token that you may know my words are true. The king has taken up his crown, the Golden Crane flies again, and you must make ready. Tell all of our people you can find they must be ready to ride for they will ride with their king and they will win back our home." The woman then disappeared from their town just as suddenly as she had appeared. And by the end of the day, Jain and his father both wore the hadori as did his sisters' husbands, and his mother and his sisters all bore the red ki'san.

 

That night all the men readied themselves to leave at first light headed for Fal Dora to meet with their king. First they passed the news to those Malikeri who lived on remote farms around their town, and all they told followed them.

 

As they made their way they meet up with other groups of Malikeri headed to Fal Dora. All spoke of a small pretty woman bearing the Maliker ring and wearing the ki'san, who appeared and diappeared suddenly. And all of the men now wore the hadori. They traveled swiftly and made Fal Dora the day before their king, and they greeted him well.

 

They made their way to Shayol Ghul to aid the Dragon Reborn in his battle against the forces of the Dark. Their journey took them through what had been the once proud and beautiful homeland, and many of the older men shed tears as they gazed upon the Broken Towers and the now defiled chain of lakes. The Shadow must pay for what it had done, and they would give their last drop of their blood to make it so.

 

Jain thought of those things as he sat his horse and watched the Golden Crane fly on the breeze. Up there close to that banner, road his king and the woman who had first told them to ride out to their king. Jain now knew her to be al'Lan Mandragorons queen and an Aes Sedi. Jain checked himself, his mind was beginning to ramble, trying to think of anything except the carnage all knew would too soon be coming.The light perserve us and the Creator shelter us, Jain frevently prayed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OOC: this is the first time I have ever tried anything like this. tell me how I can improve, gently please

[Jadyn alRaimon]

Jadyn had been a little worried when he found out that he could channel. But that was a long time ago. Extremely strong in Fire Jadyn quickly rose through the ranks of the Black Tower. He had fought at Dumai's Wells and was an experienced Asha'man. but something had been bothering him. His home, Andor was in chaos. Logain's factions of the Black Tower fighting Mazarim Taim's factions. He had sided with The Lord Dragon and Logain. He looked out upon the unit of Fire-wielders (Asha'man strong in Fire) that he had been given command of. So brave, so younghe though to himselfThey have no idea what they're getting in to. Well I'd better get some sleep. The Lord Dragon says the battle's going to be in about 2 days. I'm going to need all the rest that I can get.

[Loranflame]

Laros didn't know why he had decided to join the Lord Dragon in the last battle. After all he was in the traitors tree. Something had pulled at him though and he was helplessly dragged here. He had left the Black Tower not long before the arrival of Logain. He had always hated being cooped up, before joining the Black Tower he had often roamed the edges of the blight. His father had died there after being betrayed by his closest friend.

He had roamed through out the nations constantly in hiding. Quietly tracking down darkfriend after darkfriend. He despised darkfriends, and he felt it was his duty to take them out.

Now he stood in the camp of the Golden Crane. He had of course inverted a weave to hide that he could channel. He didn't change his appearance though. If he died he would die as he was. He didn't have any intention of dying however. His only intention was to kill as many darkfriends as he could.

He looked up as al'Lan Mandragoran rode past on a fiery black stallion. A hard man a very hard man, but like himself only as hard as he had to be.

Keeping a close look out for Ashaman he slinked of into a quiet area of the camp to rest.

[GrandpaG]

Billy Bob looked around and saw the greatest circus in all the land set up near the soldiers camp. None of the soldiers were doing anything but waiting. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he heard the blood-curdling battle cry of a madman. Out of the entrance of the circus came a man riding an elephant for all it was worth. He wore a bright crimson cape that flagged behind him as he charged full bore toward the shadowspawn guarding the gloomy abode of the Dark One.

 

"Follow me! Come on, now! All of you! Join Valan Luca! Today we defeat the Dark One himself!".

 

More people riding elephants, bears, lions, and all manner of critters from the circus followed their leader. As they were consumed by the first rank of shadowspawn, the soldiers looked at each other questioningly and went back to waiting for the order to advance. Billy Bob took another lick of his ice cream cone, settled back against his tree, and waited for the next show.

 

========================================

 

The inspiration for this can be viewed in the Valan Luca discussion on the general discussion board. :)

[Blackrose]

OOC: this is my 1st ever rp post so tell me if i mess it up :? and im only on path of daggers lol

 

IC: Danzar thought to himself about all the other marks the great lord of the dark had given him, he had never failed his mission's before, but this was the first time he was ever told to kill an asha'man. he had always known he was the best assasin in the land even the seanchan had never produced a better asassin even with their blasted damane. "I was a fool to think I could ever kill a flaming asha'man, I should have known they would have sensed me channel". he was angry that another male channeler knew he could channel that was his only way of hiding in the shadows. 20 years to the day when he started to channel as a boy and learnt of his ability to shadowmeld-a quick weave of air and earth-but now a bloody asha'man knew how to do it. "The dark lord will not be happy, hopefully he does not hand me to one of the chosen". he boomed out.

 

OOC: any good?

[Ealdur Tinuviel]

Ealdur Tinuviel stepped out onto the black slopes of Shayol Ghul, and the gateway, a hole on reality’s fabric, winked out of existence. Above, roiling gray clouds hid the sky, an inverted sea of sluggish ashen waves crashing around the mountain’s hidden peak. Below, odd lights flashed across the barren valley, washed-out blues and reds, failing to dispel the dusty murk that shrouded their source. Lightning flashed up at the clouds, ephemeral as it was, for such was the case in the World of Dreams. Across the slope steam and smoke rose from scattered vents, some holes as small as a man’s hand and some large enough to swallow ten men. Despite the steam it was bitter cold now, though he did not allow himself to feel it. Feathery mist marked his breath, barely visible before the air drank it in. Inky rivulets of pitch oozed down the rocky slope of the mountain.

 

The bulk of the trolloc army was farther south, beyond the valley of Thakan’dar, but it was here that the real battle would be fought, here where prophecy had foretold the Dragon’s blood would stain the black rocks of Shayol Ghul. Ealdur looked to the men on either side of him. The Dragon had selected his best asha’man for this task. Al’Thor himself led one circle, while Logain Ablar led the next. And Ealdur had been chosen to lead the last link, both because of his strength in all five of the powers, and the dexterity with which he wove. He supposed Semirhage herself could not be as dextrous in her use of the power. Each of the circles were composed of thirty-five men, and thirty-seven women, making them the maximum possible number and strength. Logain, Ealdur, and the Lord Dragon each held a sa’angreal to amplify the amount of power the circle could hold; for al’Thor, it was the male choedan kal, while Logain held Callandor; and Ealdur held a white-fluted wand sa’angreal, the only sa'angreal remaining in the cache of Tar Valon.

 

Ealdur seized saidin, and immediately felt his senses heightened. It felt like freezing blaze and molten icestorm all at once. The other men and women embraced the source as well, and he felt the link's reins pass to him. He had been told of the striking difference between saidin and saidar, especially in how they are handled, but he was still reluctant to surrender himself to saidar. It was difficult to juggle the two opposing sides of the Source at once, but it was necessary for the task at hand. With any luck, they would have the upper hand in the battle to come. Rand had betted on the Forsaken fighting alone, refusing to link with each other, still afraid of being betrayed even in the midst of the Battle to end all battles. As long as they were still untrusting of one another, the forces of light could take overwhelm them easily.

 

Each of the channelers knew the plan of action. They awaited only the Lord Dragon’s command to beging. He gave the word, and silvery slashes appeared in the air, rotating outward to form a gateway out of Tel’Aran’Rhiod and into the real Shayol Ghul. And so it begins. The trolloc hordes were taken by surprise. Many suffered wounds from the gateway's razor thin edge. But they hadn't made a dent in the trolloc forces. As soon as one beast was cut down, another replaced it, and the dead or dying were trampled in the wake of the onslaught. The foul creatures swarmed around them, rushing forward with a feral gleam in their eyes.

[Farcrie]

   

                                Saga of Heroes: Talzan Farcrie

    Talzan Farcrie, Darkfriend and Dreadlord, walked down a worn out forgotten path. Talzan hated himself for the things he had done all in the name of survival. But what was he supposed to have done when he found out he could channel? One he had started he couldn't stop, and the more he used it the more powerful he became until he reached the epitimy of his power. This had drawn the attention of the White Tower. And then there was the madness thing. So Talzan had joined the Dark One. Since then he had commited many atrocities in the name of survival and he regreted every one of them.

    As he rode down the path he heard the sound of people on the road. Talzan quickly moved off the path and into the shadows where he prepared to reach for Saidin at a moments notice. Two men quickly rounded a corner in the path, dressed in the black coats of the Asha'man. Together they had the power to defeat him in a fair fight, but Talzan hadn't survived and rose through the ranks of Darkfriend ranks by being fair.

    Talzan filled himself with Saidin until pleasure became pain and unleashed a torrent of fire on the two Asha'man. One was incinerated instantly while the other scrambled out of the way, filling himself with Saiden as he did so. A duel began between them as Talzan revealed himself sending more fire at the Asha'man, who just barly put up a shield in time to block the flames.

    An invisible duel began as they tried to sever each other deftly moving blades that were only visible to each other. The Asha'man was good, very good. But Talzan had been trained by Demandred himself in some of the finer aspects of channeling and he began to beat back his opponent who had fallen to defense only alowing Talzan to prees the attack all the more.

    Talzan deftly cut the weave to the Asha'man's shield and moved in for the final stroke. Talzan severed the Asha'man from the True Source then brutaly beat him down to his knees with clubs of air. Talzan walked over to the Asha'man's kneeling form and rested his hands gently on his shoulders. He recognized the man from his time as an Asha'man himself: Connor O'kiel.

    "I'm sorry Connor, I really am but this is the way it has to be" said Talzan as he prepared another weave of fire to quickly kill the man. The worst part was when Connor's eyes lit up with recognition and betrayal just before Talzan killed him. They had been friends. Talzans form slumped as he wove a gateway back to Shayol Ghul, the weight of his sins pushing in on him from all directions.

[andy81]

He called them now Young Bull, the wolf friend, showing them images, thousands of images of the hated enemy. Fades and trollocs, so many so close.

It burned in his nose now and he sensed the hatred from all around him, kill them, bite them, rip them apart.

 

And then they were among them thousands of  wolves plunging into the ranks of shadow spawn , howling in wild fury as they killed or got killed, not caring as long as they got to kill the enemy.

 

The terrible taste burned as acid in his mouth when he jumped up ripping out the throat of an eyeless, he was wild with rage growling at everyone around him. Then he felt an axe slicing through his back, but it didn’t matter it was a good death , he had killed countless of the enemy, a good death. 

 

[Farcrie]

Talzan walked upon the dry, cracked surface of Shayol Ghul. He watched in disgust as a group of trollocs consumed a grisly feast of friends and foes alike. Everything felt wrong, especially since he had murdered Connor in cold blood. Seeing his old friend again had stirred memories of a more innocent time, before he knew he had stared channeling and had sworn his soul to the Dark One. Talzan had never referred to the Dark One as Great Lord. Talzan hated the Dark One, even more than he hated himself.

 

Talzan reached his hand towards the sky, looking at the sun and wishing he could take his entire life back and never commit the dark acts he had for immortality and an escape from madness and a slow decay. As Talzan moved into his own tent he looked down at his reflection in the wash basin. His handsome face had become marred with lines of anguish, depression, and stress. His hair had begun to grey before its time and his once bright eyes had become dull and almost lifeless. As Talzan gripped saidin the water in the basin began to boil and it exploded into a shower of porcelain and water. Talzan knew how to redeem himself and he was no longer afraid of the consequences. Talzan began to fill himself with the One Power until the supreme pleasure turned into an all consuming pain. As Saidin coursed through his body he began to his body begin to rip apart. As the power reach its boiling limit Talzan unleashed it from his body. The One Power screamed out of him in a superheated column of light the reached up into the sky. Hundreds of trollocs, Fades, Darkfriends, and Dreadlords were instantly incinerated. Talzan screamed as he was dissolved into nothingness, knowing that this one last act of redemption just might give the Lord Dragon the edge he needed to win the war against Shai'tan: the Dark One.

 

As the column of light lanced into the afternoon sky Rand al'Thor and many of his other commanding officers stared out toward the blight. Suddenly a man appeared in his vision, one who looked haggard and old before his time.      A man seeking redemption for his sins, a martyr. "What in the Light is that?!" he heard a man yell. Rand looked back down to the maps scattered across a table he had had dragged out into the sun and "A man who has found his peace."         

[GrandpaG]

May the Light embrace you forever, Talzan.

[Farcrie]

                          Saga of Heroes: Felix Faust

 

Captain Felix Faust wiped the black blood of a Fade off of his two curved heron marked swords. The day's skirmish had been a short but bloody one in which the  small squad from Arafel had been ambushed by a group of trollocs led by two Fades. His squad of twenty men had been sorely reduced down to a scant twelve.  Faust ran a hand through his tangled black and grey streaked hair. He wore it waist length in the traditional Arafellen style save that most of it hung lose with smaller braids throughout his hair ending in small silver bells.

 

Faust opened his water skin and took a long pull before dumping a small amount onto his head. Looking around he seen several of his remaining soldiers doing the same. Others simply sat, thanking the Light for survival. But Faust didn't believe in that sort of stuff. He believed only in his men and luck. But since the Dark One had begun touching the world and the Dragon Reborn had appeared, Faust didn't know what to believe anymore.

 

"Alright men, gather your gear and get ready to return to camp." he growled, still angry about the ambush and the lack vigilance of his scouts (who were all dead now or had better be). Faust called Rufio Cale over to his side, Faust had been surprised by the cadet's skills with the sword and his cool in the heat of battle. The boy had officer written all over him.

 

"Rufio, your going to be my sergeant now, since my old one was lost during the ambush" he said to the boy "You performed better than I expected for a new blood."

 

Rufio snapped a smart salute and said "Yes sir, thank you for the honor captain, I shall serve to the best of my abilities sir." Faust smiled at the youth's control over himself even though Faust could see that he was almost bursting with pride and an eager enthusiasm to prove his self. Faust new he had made a good choice with Rufio, the boy was smart, level-headed and very good with his sword, and clearly well on his way to becoming a blademaster. After all it had been Rufio who had killed the other Fade.

 

By the time the sun reached its zenith Faust's squad had gathered all their gear and was making their way south towards the camp of the Golden Crane to restock on supplies and troops then make their way back out to keep the paths and roads clear of shadowspawn. Besides, Felix Faust was having more fun than he had in a long time.       

[Vanion]

The silver slash in the air appeared suddenly and began rotating, cleaning severing the arm of a trolloc in the shadow of Shayol'Ghul. As soon as the Gateway opened, Vanion stepped calmly through, letting it snap shut behind him.

 

He seemed oddly out of place amidst the carnage of the Last Battle. His Asha'man uniform spotless and the sword and dragon pins on his collar seemed freshly polished. His long hair spilled down his back, almost to his waist, and down across his face, concealing his eyes.

 

As a Storm Leader of the Black Tower, maybe they were a little wary of Severing him from the Source. It was easy to tell that that the taint had gotten to him before The Lord Dragon had cleansed it... but maybe he just wasn't gone quite far enough to be considered a risk... Then again, maybe this is why The Lord Dragon chose to turn him loose on his own in the midst of the battle.

 

Such is life, thought Vanion

 

Humming to himself, Vanion unsheathed his Heron marked sword. It's slightly curved, single edge whistling through the air to sever the head of the trolloc his gateway had maimed

 

Better to be losing his mind amidst the enemy...

 

Weaving threads of fire and air, Vanion unleashed waves of fire across the massed ranks of trollocs, lightning tearing across the sky like forked death to lance into Fade's, all the while humming, his sword strokes graceful and gentle as a lovers, giving the kiss of death to darkfriends and trollocs alike.

 

Today, this day... This battle... I am a weapon for the Lord Dragon... I am a weapon for the Light, he thought.

 

There was screaming all around him. Complete pandemonium. Death... blood, turning the earth beneath him into mud. Red, red mud... pulling at his boots... pulling... like Saiden... That torrent of ice and fire that swam through his veins. Pulling... at the last threads of his sanity.

 

Not quite insane yet though... oh no... Not quite...

 

Smiling to himself, his face and body covered in blood, some of which was his own he knew, but tucked away in the void it was a distant thing.

 

Pain...

 

Oh yes, pain. Everywhere. All around him... Screaming, crying... Laughing..?

 

Who was laughing...? Why..?

 

Looking around, Vanion couldn't find the source of this horrifying laughter. It chilled the very bones...

 

Spotting the Dreadlords in the distance he continued walking, determined to slaughter them... The Deserters Tree would blossom it's dead, sightless fruit more than ever after this day...

 

Laughter...

 

Trollocs and Darkfriends alike hurried from his path... The path of a deranged killer... head thrown back, laughing so horribly...

 

 

[Winterwinds]

ooc: No one has really done wolves yet, let me fix that  :D <Insain laughter>

 

IC: As Faerwenda crested the last hill that ceperated him from the last battle, he stopped and servayed that battle. Before was pure and utter chaos, and carnage, just the way he liked it. Turning his bright white armor, polished out of habbit, gleamed in the sun, as did his sunburst cloak and tabbard. But, he was not of the Children of the Light, no, they had forsaken him and tried to kill him. For as he turns his eyes glow deep amber in the sudden shaddows, they are filled with hate towards the Shadowspawn and conviction to destroy them.  "Come my brothers and sisters, come revel in the sweet joy of battle aginst the darkness" As that message rang out though his mind, he turned, and removes his longsword from its scabbard, on its hilt were a Heron mark should of been was instead a wolfs head ingraved and outlined in red and blue gold. Lifting it, he turned towards the battle as wolves of every kind streamed around him, there howls breaking the over the din of battle, sending shivers down even his back. "So it has started" As he said that, or yelled it he could not tell, he charged down the sloap. To everyone but the wolves he looked normal, exept his eyes, but to the wolves, he was one of them, in his mind he ran on all fours, and howled with them. As his brothers and sisters crashed into the ranks of Trollocs a heart-beat infront of him he felt there joy and anger at the shadowspawns. Joy for being here to kill them, anger at there very existance. Out in the distance, the Red Eagle was risen, and the wolves commented on how this seemed all to familar. Other banneres were there as well, the Gold Crain of Malkier, the Lion of Andor, The Sunburst of the WhiteCloaks, the Red Fist of the Band of the Red Hand. It almost brought tears to his eyes, or it would of it he wasnt covered in blood and sweat already. Slowly his brothers and sisters advanced deep into the Shadowspawn ranks, many times he saw a Fade get swarmed by a pack of wolves, other times he saw a darkfriend break ranks and run, to be cut down by one of his brothers. Somewere, he heard laughter, puzzled he looked around, only to add his booming laugh as he could not find it. He might be going insain, but he didnt care...for is not all battles insanity given form?

[GrandpaG]

Cool...I can almost smell and taste the blood.