A Routine Patrol? [Watchers RP]

[Guest Arie Ronshor]

Fight over the clouds, over wind, over sky

Fight over life, over blood, over prayer,

overhead and light

Fight over love, over sun,

over another, Fight..

 

 

Chaos

 

It had happened once before, in the world of channelers and men that threatened against them. Creating a disorderly array of pervious attacks against anything that did not show a form of familiarity. And regardless of what she saw through the Touch of Saidar, Maegan wished she could release it allow it all to fall apart at the seams, leaving her back in the blurry world that wouldn't allow the blood on those fallen be as bright against white skin, not the way she saw it now. If only she could see it the way she did before.

 

The next weave that came at her did not hit her sheild, but the horse under her, falling she rolled with it, tucking her shoulder and refusing to release the shield around her person. The horse screamed as the fire dart had peirced its chest, soon a second one hit it as the horse died only a foot away from her. The source, a Man in Black, walked towards her with confident strides that nearly made her sick.

 

:::She stalked the darkness that had crept over the kidnappers encampment. Hiding where no one could see her. Unable to feel the one power, or see it's glow, Maegan blended into the shadows, and she moved soundlessly with light steps looking for the tent that held her friends. The tied-off illusion around her that made her invisible to the untrained eye held perfectly in place. Her extra studying well payed off. Carefully she snuck around tents, barrels and other obstacles in the enemies camp, working her way to find her Allies. Her friends.

 

The night held a warm sickness that only added to the weight of her shoulders as she passed doorways and sleeping guards. Soft her steps, slow and without rush. She had all the time in the world to get where she needed to be in silence, but even she knew that time was a lie in this place and that the more time that passed, the more inevitable her escape and the discovery of her first kill. Shuttering inside, Maegan refused to let that be something that would stop her. She had no choice, either she would be dead or him. And no bloody tower rule would stop her from believing she did not have the right to channel to save her life and end that of a man, Darkfriend or not. She refused to be placed back in that alley way where she saw her best friend raped dead.

 

*snap*

 

Facing the Ashaman, a new weave worked its way around her fingertips as she saw the fire that soon consumed his. He approached her in a familiar way that spoke of arrogance and absurd amount of assurance that wafered off of him like a scented painted-courtesan. The man failed to notice one thing, however, in his strut towards her. She was not even blinking as she poured Spirit into a thin blade that would net around his heart, his touch with Saidin. She would not bring his death, but she will take away what he felt was his control, his power. She could feel his pride in his power, how much strength it gave him. Power he would have over her. And she will sever it from him as she knew he would otherwise she her dead, like so many other men before him.

 

:::A twig beneath her small feet snapped, curling up around the ball of her foot, her whole body grew rigged as her ears sharply listened around her desperately seeking out any form of hostility. Knowing that there was and yet none. In a camp full of Darkfriends it was nigh impossibly for her to feel even remotely safe regardless of camouflage or weave. Nothing. Knowing even a sigh of relief would cost her, Maegan continued her search for the other Accepted's kept elsewhere in the camp; But where?

 

"Poor little kitten without her mittens." The man taunted, approaching as Maegan's eyes narrowed at him with steel resolve. The sneer on his lips made him only appear more ugly, vile, sinister in appearance as the weave in her hands were nearly completed. She did not need to move her arms, whisper her spell or make any other motion to contribute to a weave. Maegan merely needed to know exactly what she was doing. She was a Sister of the Crimson Shawl. Highest in her Ajah. She should know this weave more than any other weave as, even though it was a last resort, it was her life-line incase a situation like this were to occur. A face off of her and a Channeler that would not go willingly. One that now left her no choice. Her Aes Sedai calm revealed nothing as all he could possibly know was her channeling and then the product of her weave. Saidar and Saidin impossible to sense between the wielder.

 

"Who needs mittens." She smiled coldly up at him, not bothering to stand. She knew he was taller, but not even her lack of height could diminish her superiority and presence. "I am not cold." Completing the weave, she snuffed out the mans fire as he screamed from the sudden shock-wave as his touch from Saidin was torn from his grasp. A similar shock-wave hit Maegan, but not one that had any personal effect.

 

*CRACK*

 

Maegan turned as their gateway home shattered. "MUIRENN!"

 

:::Physically shaking she grasped the power that consumed her, bringing her vision to life as she saw the face of the man contort in pain, reddening as the air was completely cut off from reach. Maegan knew that if she released the weave for even a moment she would loose what little ground she had and he would call for him and give away her position. She could not have this. Not a sound was given as the man fell to the ground as his hand was still scratching at his neck, blood drenching his collar as he could not comprehend the reason he could not breath. Her tactics were simple. Bring down only those that she needed to, weaving only small amounts of Saidar, grabbing Tierany and Siny and then running as far away as they could as fast as they could.

 

Stepping forward Maegan placed two finders against the man's neck in search of a pulse as she listened carefully for any sound that would place her in immediate danger. There was no pulse but there was a sound from within the tent that told her she was close. Aes Sedai was whispered by a female voice that sounded similar to Siny. Praying she was not too late she left the corpse to be found later, not allowing the implications of her actions to bother more than she could willingly admit later. After all, it was her or them. Maegan refused to loose the battle.

 

The release of the gateway was felt more than seen as the spectacles that hung around her neck were ripped off from a physical attack of one within her proximity that was able to reach her within the moments of her crying out for the Red Sitter. Her staff already at hand Maegan brought it around and down on the boys sword knocking it out of his hand by the force Maegan exerted, and then with a similar motion, the other end of the staff was brought up under his jaw as he flew back with his eyes wide in surprise. What Red Sister would ever study the Sword. Sounds of the battle raged around her as the sounds started to confuse her as a pattern of cries, silence, screams and the clanging of swords started to lessen and echo in a symbolic matter. Desperately in that moment she wished she could sense the male half of the One Power to understand what she could hear. Order was forming as their side of the battle was surrendering to those of the Black Tower. There was Order brought to this Chaos and Maegan knew that they had failed in this mission. Light burn her but once again the infamous hand of Sirayn's orders brought destruction to what she had planned out. Pulling whatever reserve she had, Maegan fought to live praying that they would not loose anouther in this battle. Red, Green... Colour never mattered. They were all Aes Sedai of the White Tower and Creator guard them as few would be returning, if any at all.

 

 

 

Angels on the sideline again.

Been soon long with patience and reason.

Angels on the sideline again

Wondering when this tug of war will end.

 

"Right in Two" - TOOL

 

 

Maegan Ryanne Sedai

Highest of the Crimson Banner

 

Italics - Memory from her Accepted Years

 

Muirenn - Hit me with your best shot.

[Kael]

Fear, Panic, Dread, Anger, Loathing, the human mind was capable of so much at one time. Rion's fractured mind was throwing so much at him, the darkness inside of him threw insults and anger filled threats towards the bundle of new emotions inside of him. Another, Jocelyn, was threaded with worry and anxiety, while his own was full of a self loathing that was unrivaled from anything he had ever felt.

 

What have I done.... You have done what needed to be done. You have done what it was that will make you powerful. You have taken an Aes Sedai hostage, bent her to your own will, overpowered her and shown your streangth. You are beggining to know how to survive in this world, bend those who resist to your will or crush them under your fist. Now you know.

 

"Kill me now..." Rion sunk down to the ground and brought his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around them. How could he have done this? How would he explain this to Jocelyn his wife who he had bonded first? "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..." Rion had no idea what he would do now...he had just bonded an Aes Sedai against her will. An Aes Sedai Light...he had nearly worshiped Aes Sedai for years, had always wanted to meet one and now when he finally had it was them trying to kill him and it ended with him bonding one.

 

He was a monster now.

 

 

Rion

[Muirenn]

Shielding.  They had just learned shielding a few weeks ago.  Serge struggled to remember those lessons as the skirmish between this party of Aes Sedai and Asha'man raged on.  They were supposed to subdue these women, not kill, and he couldn't remember the weave.  What made things more difficult was that the Aes Sedai didn't seem to be under the same orders.  He watched in horror as a Soldier fell, eyes staring.  Empty eyes.  There seemed to be only a few of the Aes Sedai remaining, but those few were fierce.  He saw one woman alone, saw her whip her head around and scream something.  He couldn't make out the words, if there were words at all. 

 

It looked as though she would be finished, an Asha'man was closer than Serge, was reaching out for her.  And quick as lightning she hit him with that slender staff she carried, first on his sword hand, then his jaw.  Serge saw the man's eyes roll up in his head as he crumpled.  Enough of this.  She was killing them, killing [i[us[/i].  His hold on saidin surged and pulsed, and Serge drew out Spirit, weaving it in a dull sheet.  Too much could still, cut a woman off from the One Power forever.  The orders were to subdue.  But he knew this wasn't quite right.  Something was off.  But he didn't need perfection, only time.  Only moments. 

 

He threw the weave at her, pushed down where he knew her connection with the True Source would be.  He felt something push back, resist his efforts.  The woman's eyes went wide, and the feeling intensified.  But he only needed another step.  Serge reached out and pulled the woman close, did the only thing he could think of.  The orders were to subdue.

 

"I am sorry, Aes Sedai," he said as the woman struggled in his arms and against his attempts to shield, "I know of no other way."

 

He kissed her, shifting his weave of Spirit to one he had learned more recently, had just practiced.  Fine threads settled around the Aes Sedai, into her.  And Serge pulled back.  He felt her now, and his eyes widened in surprise.  It was impossible to imagine such a thing, impossible even though his teachers had attempted to describe it.  He had practiced the weave half-heartedly, not thinking he would ever have the need.  But he had practiced it until it had been done right so that he could leave for the evening meal.  If only the Asha'man teaching hadn't been such a hard taskmaster.  Or, perhaps, if only the Asha'man who had taught him to shield had been harder.  He had a woman in his head!  A woman!

 

He thought he might be ill, and his knees buckled under him.  He turned away from the Aes Sedai just in time as the remains of his breakfast came up onto the blood stained field.

 

-Serge Karminov

Dedicated of the Black Tower

Eww.

[Guest Arie Ronshor]

Eww.. Was not even the begining of what Maegan was able to perceive of the situation. Ludicrous and idiotic seemed more fitting than the words that oddly echoed in her mind. With a quick glance around her, Maegan concluded that the collapse of the Gateway had destroyed any possible chance of returning home with any semblance of a victory. Aes Sedai, Warder and Tower Guard alike were placing down arms and giving into the inevitable. They had lost.

 

Kiss.. he.. She touched her lips as the scene played over in her mind. It was only in that second that he did, but it felt like a life time ago. She had felt his sheild wavering, cracking under her testing of the shield. He would not have been able to hold her, not with a sheild so poorly built. Power or not, the boy had no skill. Not nearly enough to hold a trained Aes Sedai.

 

He kissed.... Maegan struggled with this fact. Her nature demanded her to make note of what now recided in her head, but the sheer physical expression was far from acceptable... expected, yes expected, in a battle. Why did he kiss her as he bonded her. Her fingers left her lips as a wave of nausea blanketed within her head and then over her body as it threatened to unhinge her now fadding composure. Thoughts, feelings far from her own filtered in her head in a confusing bundle of emotions that should not be there. Struggling upright, she looked at her captor with eyes filled with confusion and curiosity. The lack of shielding skills or not, she could not laugh as the boy turned away from her, his meal laying at his feet.

 

Fear. Disgust. Regret. She sensed many things from the boy, words and emotions that were foreign to her in most every aspect. However, Fear she knew all too well about. A small inner conflict battled within her, but her sympathetic nature won her over. Laying down her stave at her feet Meagan stepped forward and placed a hand on his back, gently.

 

"Are you alright?"

 

 

Maegan Ryanne Sedai

Head of the Red Ajah

Bonded!!

[Covai Seriba]

Covai's eyes flared with anger, placid choas igniting within him as the weaves of earth spread outwards from his feet, the shockwave formed displacing the bog beneath him with solid earth. Bringing his hands together at the wrists, Covai focused his power between outspread fingers, fueling the sphere of fire that had formed within his grasp. Damn Aes Sedai... he thought, So much for being Servants of All... The Storm Leader's lips twitched into a grin that held neither humour nor warmth I'll show her what it means to live up to one's title!

 

Thrusting his arms forwards Covai focused the sphere towards the mounted witch. The arrogant woman assumed she was his equal. That alone deserved death in Covai's mind at the moment. Twitching slightly in irritation, he felt his weave being pushed to the side, but whatever it was wasn't enough to eliminate his attack. A flicker of sympathy crossed his vision as the horse screamed before the fire tore its flesh from bone. Mere flickers weren't enough however to erase the pain and anger that fuelled his movements that day.

 

Pain.... The concept sparked a light in the back of the Storm Leader's vision as he held the Aes Sedai by the throat. The woman was pushed past the brink of exhaustion, yet her nails clawed at his hand in a desperate attempt for survival. He couldn't remember crossing the distance between, and despite the desire to end her life there and then, the Storm Leader's resisted from doing so. They would be more valuable alive than dead. What he had in mind for her would leave her wishing for death, and that would be enough for him....

 

Breaking his lips from hers once he had placed the weave, Covai fought against the flood of emotions and images crashed against his mind. The woman truly was on the verge of breaking. Her comrades all lay either dead or defeated, their mission was a failure, and her life was held in the hands of a crazy channeler who could snap at any minute. Through the torrent of hatred and defiance, Covai felt and underlaying fear coming from her, that this was where she was going to die here and no one would know to mourn her passing.

 

Recognition crept upon Covai as his mind was flooded with past images of young Asha'man, ones who never managed to survive the training the Black Tower forced upon its recruits. Mothers, wives, even daughters and sons. All had wept at the passing of their loved one as the taint had finally claimed them. He felt a twinge of sadness for those who had learnt to channel only from their training. Had the Black Tower never existed they would have lead perfectly normal lives with their families. Yet for some it was inevitable, those born with the spark would have sooner or later destroyed themselves, possibly their families as well.

 

....and that’s why they came... the realisation of the life he held in his finger tips dawned on him as the void shattered. For the first time in his life, Storm Leader Covai Seriba felt sick to his stomach. Releasing his grip, the Storm Leader proceeded to retch the contents of his stomach upon the battlefield around him. For years he had seen new recruits do the same and thought only poorly and sympathetically of them. For the first time he knew the true horror of becoming the thing that you hated the most, only to learn you were one and the same.

 

No! The Storm Leader's mind cleared as he focused his thoughts. These witches came here feeling they were putting down wild dogs before they could bite back. It was the same as a child poking a dog with a stick, sooner or later the dog would bite back and should he feel sympathetic for the child? Would it make the dogs wounds any less painful or real? “NO!”

 

The verbal defiance coming from his lips broke the Storm Leader from his spiralling depression. Stretching his muscles slowly as he stood back, he welcomed the embrace of the void and Saidin as it came to him once more. Eyes scanning the battlefield, Covai could see the battle, the slaughter was over. Not one Aes Sedai remained in defiance. The day was theirs, but the movement of those left were cause for concern. Asha'man and Aes Sedai were scattered in pairs around the clearing and it's surroundings. The fighting as over, but there was no clear sign of just who it was the had won. He saw Asha'man caring for wounded witches, and even a witch tending an Asha'man. This was not the way things should have been......

 

 

 

 

The sound of horses brought a irritating, if somewhat welcome interruption to the moment. Two dozen or so Asha'man had arrived one the scence, numbers Covai was welcome for. Nodding to the Attack Leader in charge, Covai began ordering the remaining Aes Sedai to be shielded and taken back to the tower. "And be sure they walk. No witch is to be given a mount. If she's unable to walk make a stretcher to drag behind, no chances are to be taken for their escape." Watching the Asha'man move about the task, Covai signalled the nearest over to him. "Run ahead and make sure the medics are ready. Asha'man are to be treated first, and then the witches. Ensure the infirmary is surround by Asha'man at all times. Your orders come from me, and anyone who questions them will be dealt with accordingly."

 

Covai turned away from his new bondmate.... the idea still sickened him....as two Asha'man took her away. The blasted flow of emtions and toughts coming from her refused to let his former hate take solid form again. The Aes Sedai would be kept under watch until they could decided what was to be done with them. Light, if the blasted weave worked like it should they might even be able to control them enough to divide them up around the tower. Shaking his head clear, Covai figured those thoughts could wait for later. His legs were about to drop out from under him. Waving away the offer of a mount Covai sat down on the edge of a toppled tree and pulled his waterskin from his belt. Despite all that had happened, it was still intact, a fact the Storm Leader as truly grateful for. Uncorking the stopper, Covai washed the foul taste of the day from his mouth before leaning forward, his chin resting on his hands as he studied the battlefield. The Stone of Tear.....Dumani Wells....and now this... Images of past battles phased in and out of his mind as the Storm Leader, one of the top leaders of the Black Tower studied the vision of destruction around him and found himself worried for the future. Just how much longer to we have until Tarmon Gai'don?

 

[Shaneevae]

He came, his limbs tense with anticipation, his stride brimming with purpose and his eyes filled to overflowing with anger.  In all her years she had never seen such loathing seethe from a man’s eyes. His anger so hot, Shaneevae briefly felt a twinge of fear trickle up her spine, burying it; she squared her shoulders ignoring the pain and faced the oncoming Asha’man with the steel coolness of Aes Sedai. Having resolved herself to death, she determined that she would not enter into that still night alone; she would take the devil’s spawn along for the ride kicking and screaming all the way.

 

Sweat poured from her brow, concentration so intense upon the singular battle she fought that when the shield slammed between her and the One Power it was akin to a physical blow.  Crushing in its ferocity, she fell to her knees gasping with shock and mourning the loss of sweet Saidar that had ran hot and bubbling through her blood for more than an hour.  Before she was able to regain her breath large male hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing with the intention of crushing her windpipe and robbing her of one last breath before death claimed her soul.  Eyes wide, the Head of the Brown Ajah clawed rivulets of blood down the face of the man that held her very life within his hands.

 

Memories began to flood her mind as her body became deplete of oxygen, the Wildwood in Two Rivers, Franklen by her side staring up at the starry sky and planning their future.  Flashes of the White Tower, her Arches and the day Ryan Kell had strolled into the Tower’s library, the male to her female. Retching on the side of the road in Camelyn after seeing his new family and the questions in his eyes as she walked away. Franklen with his golden eyes, the children of Emond’s Field and the images kept coming so brilliantly and vividly that when her tormentor’s lips touched hers, she reeled.  The whites of her eyes glaring as she felt the knot of emotions settle into a corner of her mind.

 

Outrage.  White spots of outrage dotted her vision as she felt the fullness of what he had done. The devil’s spawn had forced his way into her most prized possession.  The years she had spent honing her most valuable weapon had been breeched, invaded, raped by a Saidin wielding lunatic. Pure unadulterated hate pumped through her veins whether all of it was hers or if they fed off each other she did not know, but she wallowed in that pure emotion never taking her eyes from him.

 

When two men attempted to lead her away, she jerked away from their grasp glaring at them before turning to spit at the man that held her bond. Their eyes met and Shannevae allowed her detestation to flood the bond vowing to see him dead. He answered in turn, his own hatred equally as intense, words unspoken, but as clear as if he’d sang them from the rooftops, “Bring it on, witch.”

 

Following along quietly, Shaneevae wondered where the emotion of sympathy had come from.