the Black Tower gets a bit darker: a slightly Retro RP [ATTN Arath]

[Myth]

The plan is in motion, and now all I have to do is survive.

 

Grinning sardonically at the thought, Drak rode toward the Black Tower he had heard so much about. Although he saw no tower, just an imposing black wall. He had done everything he could to give his scheme a chance at success, but careful planning could only do so much. The battle plan only lasts until you meet the enemy, he quoted in his mind as his eyes scanned the scene before him, like an eagle unsure of the dangers a new sky held for him.

 

From this point forward he would be relying on only his abilities. And some luck. And he didn’t like banking on luck.

 

His appearance was as carefully considered as every other aspect of his preparations had been. First impressions were important when dealing with strangers, and he had a lot riding on this gambit. Just my life. he thought with a chuckle.

 

As such, today, and until such a time as things changed, he was a mercenary. He certainly looked the part of a war-hardened, traveling soldier whose sword was for hire. His clothing and cloak were well worn, and threadbare in places. His boots were terribly scuffed, and his travel pack and bedroll held nothing but the most meager essentials that a man needed on the road. He had a three-day growth of stubble on his face, and because of his strict rationing of food the last few weeks even his body had taken on a somewhat gaunt, lean look.

 

Like a wolf that wasn’t sure if today he was the hunter or the hunted.

 

Only his sword and armor were in immaculate condition. And his horse, though it was much harder to notice now that he was coming into his winter coat. Those were the tools of his trade, and as such would be expected to be in top repair. His horse was one of the best, although he had chosen one that wasn’t flashy, and it would take an exceptional eye to see the strong chest, the good lines, and finely turned ankles on his mount. He had such an eye, but surprisingly few did.

 

His chainmail was spotless and made of fine Andoran steel. His helm, bracers and gloves were scarred and obviously well used but otherwise in excellent shape. Only his sword would draw the eye, if he un-sheathed it. Just as he planned.

 

As he rode up to the main gate, he noticed the black-coated men weren’t dressed for the chill. It had been a cold morning and hadn’t gotten much warmer. Mist still rose into the sky at every breath, but the black-coats weren’t phased. As he had had surmised.

 

Here goes nothing, he thought one last time before he rolled the dice.

 

“Excuse me, fellows,” he said warmly, propped casually on an elbow on his saddlehorn as he leaned down toward the nearest pair of men. “Where would I need to go, or who should I talk to see about joining your Black Tower?”

 

The gate watchmen, for lack of a better word, looked at each other briefly before a pair with swords on their collars broke away and motioned for him to follow. That would mean they are Dedicated, I believe, he thought to himself. Sort of like an Accepted among the Aes Sedai,  They didn’t tell him to dismount, but he did so anyway so as not to appear rude.

 

And with his first step, he crossed the threshold into the unknown.

 

This is going to be fun.

[Arath Faringal]

Enjoying the cold of the morning, Arath leaned against the side wall of the inn relaxing.  Soon enough the day would get more interesting, the sounds of training and explosions would fill the air, construction would resume on the various buildings around the grounds, but for now the chill seemed to delay the start of the day, and he was enjoying the quiet. 

 

As he silently observed the goings on of the farm, Arath noticed a pair of dedicated leading another man in from the gates.  Another new recruit, looking for something here.  He still found it strange that anyone would come in search of the Black Tower.  Be it glory, power, or simply control of their cursed power, they all came seeking something.

 

The man being escorted in looked a little different to Arath.  He seemed a little too confident, too at ease for being here for the first time.  He's clothing was shabby and worn, but he caught the glint of armor underneath.  The man was a soldier from somewhere, whether a mercenary or a deserter from another army Arath couldn't tell, but he had a dangerous look about him.  Someone who knew how to handle himself in a bad situation.

 

As the group moved closer to his house, Arath arose and strode after them.  He caught up just as they were about to knock on the door.  "Dedicateds," he barked from behind, making one of them jump, "What do you need?"

 

"This man wishes to become a soldier," replied the less jumpy of the two.  "He rode in a few minutes ago asking to sign up."

 

Arath considered the man again from this closer distance.  He still looked completely at ease, and met Arath's stare levely.  "Very well." He nodded to the dedicateds.  "Dismissed."  As the two hurried back off to their post, Arath returned to the new recruit.  "I am Attack Leader Arath Faringal.  Do you need to be tested for channeling, or have you already begun to do so on your own?"

[Myth]

Drak trailed along behind the too black-coated channelers like a wolf trailing sheep. Like a wolf behind two wolf hounds, he corrected himself in his mind. For the near future he had to change his way of thinking. He wasn’t here to flaunt his might; he was here to learn.

 

They would try to teach him to use the Power, and it wouldn’t surprise him if he learned a few new tricks. But even if he knew most of the lessons of their teaching already, he truly was still a student. He was just studying something they didn’t expect. So he had to act the part he was playing, and that didn’t call for him to show off.

 

“Dedicateds!”

 

A crisp command sounded from behind him, causing one of his escort to try and climb the sky. Turning calmly, Drak looked into the eyes of some sort of commander, judging by his tone and by the instant deference the other two Black-coats showed him, as the men discussed who he was and why he was here. He coolly assessed the man who appeared to be about the same age he himself looked, while the fellow talked with his underlings. He certainly had the two men’s respect. They are ready to frog, and he hasn’t even said hop, yet, Drak thought to himself.

 

Judging by his calm composure in such a hostile, unpredictable place, here was a man who knew what he was about. The two pins on his collar were visible symbols to anyone who was too blind to see that the man was dangerous, a well-trained wolfhound who was ready to attack any wolf, anywhere, at a moment’s notice. The relaxed posture, and quiet confidence of his being spoke of more self-assurance than mere rank could account for. He is a dangerous man, Drak acknowledged.

 

When the Asha’man had dismissed his escort, looked him over, and introduced himself, Drak removed his helm and tucked it under his left arm. It wouldn’t do to be disrespectful.

 

“Attack Lead Arath Faringal, er, sir,” pausing slightly as if he was confused, he asked, “Do I shake your hand or salute or what?” Smiling with genuine amusement, he added, “I think we’d better start from the beginning, sir. I’m not sure about all this channeling, but I believe I’ve come to the right place.”

 

Pausing with thought, he continued. “I have always been, er, well lucky, you might say. And of late, weird things have been happening around me. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I was hoping I could find some answers here.”

 

Holding his right hand out, he introduced himself. “I am called Drak, sir. It’s good to meet you.”

[Arath Faringal]

Arath considered the other man for a moment before taking his hand.  "Drak then.  You don't sound like you need it, but I suppose we'll go ahead and test you."  Siezing Saidin, he pushed open the door with a simple flow of air and waved the other man inside.  After a few moments of negotiating their way through the cramped quarters, I really need a new house ..., they arrived at the makeshift office/work station that Arath currently used.  Motioning Drak to sit at the desk, he moved himself around to the other side and took his own seat. 

 

He paused for a moment considering the disaster area that passed for his office.  A few books were strewn around the room, papers were scattered across the desk along with a half dozen unfinished ter'angreal that he had been working on.  That was still an unexact science.  More trial and error, and even then more error than anything else.  He briefly considered moving the trinkets away from the new recruit but then decided against it.  It was doubtful that anyone could recognize them for what they were, especially at this unfinished stage.  They were mostly harmless anyway, from what he could tell.

 

Returning his attention to Drak he prepared for the testing.  Weaving a simple tongue of flame into existance above the desk, Arath give instructions.  "Focus on this flame.  Don't let anything in this room distract you.  Don't think about home, why you are here, anything at all.  Just the flame."

 

Drak nodded and stared intently at the flame, his eyes seeming to flicker dangerously with the reflected light of the fire Arath was maintaining.  Arath kept a sharp eye on Drak, watching for any sign of reaction.  It came amazingly quick.  Within two minutes, Arath felt the resonating pulse come from the new recruit.  The corners of Arath's mouth twitched a little.  This man had been channeling for a while if he responded so quickly.  Much like he himself had he acknowledged.  Arath had unconsciously been channeling for at least a year before Koras had found him on the Caemlyn streets.

 

Letting the weave unravel, Arath addressed Drak again.  "It is over.  You can channel, and have been for some time I take it.  You are now a soldier in the Black Tower.  You are to be a weapon for the Dragon Reborn, and will obey orders from myself or any of the other Asha'man without question, understood?"  He didn't bother to wait for a confirming nod.  "Now, do you have any questions before you get settled in?"

[Myth]

The flame disappeared, and Arath’s words hit him right between they eyes. At least that is how Drak played it. He dropped his head to his chest and closed his eyes, his hands coming up to grasp his head, his fingers clenching around his hair in obvious distress.

 

Breathing deeply, he let out a long sigh. Still holding his head in his hands and looking at the floor, he spoke, the words barely containing the emotion. “It’s one thing to think something may be true, but when you finally come face to face with it, nothing really prepares you. Does it?”

 

Not waiting for an answer, Drak took another deep breath and forced himself to sit up straight. Looking Arath in the eyes, he said. “I will go mad and die now.” It was a statement, but the Asha’man nodded, hearing the unspoken question. His jaws clenching with determination, Drak forced the words out of his mouth. “He is truly the Dragon Reborn?” Again, Arath nodded silently, his fingers steepled as he sat behind his desk, patiently waiting for the truth to sink in.

 

All the stories he had grown up with flashed before Drak’s eyes. He knew the truth of the Power, but he still recognized what it meant for the Dragon to be Reborn. Nodding determinedly, he spoke again. “The Shadow reaches out, and the Last Battle is coming.” Yet again, Arath nodded without speaking, but this time was their a hint of a smile? Probably just a trick of the light.

 

“What do I do next?” Drak asked quietly, then with a wry grin he added, “I hope I look good in black.”

[Arath Faringal]

“What do I do next?  I hope I look good in black.”

 

Moving over to a large closet in the corner of the room, Arath retrieved a black coat and handed it to the new soldier.  "We'll see.  First, you get settled in, rest up, get something to eat, and enjoy your last moments of freedom.  This afternoon you'll begin your training with Saidin."  Arath considered Drak for a moment.  Something bothered him about Drak's reactions to learning for sure that he could channel.  It seemed too forced.  Like he was putting on a show.  For some reason he felt like he needed to keep a close eye on this man.

 

Rubbing his chin as though in thought, Arath continued speaking.  "As it happens, I am free to personally oversee your training for the time being.  I only have one other mentee at the moment, and I'm sure he'll enjoy the company.  But for now, I'm hungry, and you look like you could use a bite to eat."  Motioning for Drak to follow him, he left the house and headed toward the inn.

 

"So tell me Drak, how did you end up here at the Black Tower?"

[Myth]

Drak took the proffered black coat and nodded at Arath’s brief announcement of the day’s upcoming proceedings. The Asha’man gave him a thoughtful, probing look for a brief moment, and it was clear to Drak that the man was wary of him. His suspicion was confirmed when the Asha’man invited the young mercenary to train with him. Not surprising, considering the type of man Drak was, and the job that Arath had to do. But, Drak also noticed the intelligent mind behind the eyes. Arath was not only dangerous; he was a smart man, as well.

 

He is no one to trifle with, he thought to himself. And he is certainly no fool. I like him already.

 

Smiling with genuine happiness at the invitation to study with the Attack Leader personally, and even more widely at the invitation to eat, the young mercenary walked outside with his new commander and then alongside him as they made their way to where ever they were headed. At Arath’s question, Drak openly responded with a brief history of a part of his life as they walked. The best part was, he didn’t have to lie.

 

“I can tell you that if anyone had asked me that question a few years back, I would have thought the Light had touched their mind,” he began with a chuckle. “I guess it began in Tear, where I was born…”

 

As they walked, he recounted traveling, first as a merchant’s guard, then getting offered a job as both a guard and horse trainer with a man who sold horses to the military. Armies always needed good mounts and lots of them, and business had been good. At least until a trip to the Borderlands. The horse trader, Manny LeFlure by name, died to a Trolloc’s axe, as had most of the other men. The few that survived managed to stick together and make a living selling their services to various parties who needed swords, and men who could wield them with no questions asked. That was when the weird things had begun…

 

“As I told you before, I’d always been counted as lucky, but this was different somehow…”

 

He went on to explain how things sometimes happened around him without any reason, like a storm would come up at just the right time to help his men escape, or a lightning bolt would just happen to hit his enemies just before he got overrun, or an avalanche would fall and save them. Things like that happened all too often around him. At first, his fellows thought he was their lucky charm, but as things continued they begin to whisper about it instead of cheer.

 

“The Power, they were saying,” he said. “And you know what that means. It’s not exactly something you want to hear around you, and certainly not about you. So before they decided to cut my throat one night while I was asleep, I took my pay and rode out. I figured I needed to find answers.”

 

Pausing outside of the doorway they were about to enter, he finished. “So here I am. Would it be improper if I asked the same of you?”

[Arath Faringal]

Arath nodded as he shoved open the door and walked over to his favorite table in the inn's common room.  "I was 16 when I had my first brush with Saidin.  My father was drunk and violent that night, and I defended myself.  Brought down the entire house on him and burned it.  I wasn't aware at the time what had happened.  Just thought I was lucky.

 

After that I went to Caemlyn looking for work.  I couldn't find any after a long while so I had to resort to thievery.  I was a very successful cutpurse for about about two years.  Then I tried to rob a tall man in a black coat.  An Asha'man.  Another bit of accidental channeling saved my life there, and he decided to recruit me rather than kill me."  Arath grinned.  "It was a pretty easy choice for me."

 

He leaned back in his chair as one of the serving girls came over to their table.  After she hurried away with an order for two large breakfast plates, Arath turned to look at Drak again.  "It's not a life many would wish for, to be here doing what we do.  Death is inevitable for all of us, be it in battle or succumbing to the blighted taint.  But the sense of identity, of purpose . . . you feel like you can make a difference in the world.  It's worth it."

 

There was silence for a moment as they waited for the food.  Arath tried to read some sort of reaction from Drak, but he kept a simple thoughtful look on his face.  "Well then.  What else do you want to know about the Farm before you get started?"

[Myth]

Peering considerately into the Attack Leader’s face, Drak nodded in agreement. “A man needs to feel like he’s a part of something bigger than himself, else he’ll drift wherever the wind takes him. I know exactly what you mean.”

 

After pausing for a few moments, he added, “I still can’t believe I’m here, though. I grew up hearing horror stories about men channeling, the same as you. Whenever I stop and think about it, it makes my head spin.”

 

Laughing wryly at himself, he grinned and said, “But the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, as they say. Still, you have to admit this isn’t something you’d wake up one morning and expect. How do you wrap your head around being the thing we were taught to fear?”

 

As the serving maid returned with breakfast, Drak added a few more questions before digging in to the food piled onto his plate. “Where will I be staying while I learn? Any tips you have for me that might keep me from making a fool of myself? And most importantly, when do we get started with the insanity?”

 

Laughing at the jest, he listened eagerly to what Arath had to say.

[Arath Faringal]

Arath considered Drak for a moment before answering his questions and starting on his own plate.  He still seemed too eager, but all things considered that shouldn't have been disturbing.  His other trainee was just as bad.  Probably worse now that he thought of it.  Tai'Dashan jumped head first into everything without thinking it through enough.

 

"You'll start soon enough.  After breakfast I'll show you around a little and start with your first classes.  How to touch Saidin at will, how to control it, and some very basic channeling.  We'll progress from there depending on how quickly you learn.

 

"As for where you'll stay, that will be changing soon.  You'll be in the soldier barracks for a while, but in the next few day's I will be building a new house.  Once it's done you and Tai'Dashan, my other student, will be staying there.  You'll be helping me build it too, so do a good job," he added with a grin.

 

Arath wolfed down a few bites of his breakfast before continuing.  "The best way to keep from looking like a fool, is to not act like one.  Learn quickly from your mistakes, and don't repeat them.  Show a decent amount of respect for anyone higher rank than you, and those that are lower than you.  We also have a number of Aes Sedai . . . guests.  Don't provoke them.  Basically, use good judgement and common sense and you'll be fine."

 

The continued to talk as they ate, Arath answering Drak's questions, asking a few of his own.  In short order though, the food was gone and the day loomed before them.  As Arath stood he eyed Drak and asked, "Are you ready?"  At Drak's confirming nod he led the way to the practice grounds, to begin the training of yet another weapon.

[Myth]

It seems simple, Drak thought to himself as he enjoyed the company of the Attack Leader. Keep my nose clean, follow orders, and don’t do anything that will annoy the powers that be. Arath seems to be a highly competent, and confident man. And surprisingly humble, considering the duties and difficulties that his title requires of him.

 

The newest member of the Farm’s training system found himself liking his commander, which took him completely by surprise. As they walked toward the practice grounds, Drak was quietly introspective as he looked over the Farm and the goings on of its inhabitants. He saw many things, but his focus was on the upcoming challenge of pretending to be a new channeler.

 

I can’t pick things up too quickly, or I’ll stand out too much. It is better to be too slow at first, than to be too fast. Fumbling around is the rule of the day. I must be focused, of course, but I can’t be too successful. And numerous mistakes would probably be the best thing. Arath has a sharp mind, and if I’m not careful, he will be suspicious of me. Although, come to think of it, he’s probably suspicious of every new man who walks through the gates. I would be if the situations were reversed. His position is one of constant peril, as I am sure he is aware.

 

Pausing from his reverie, Drak came up short as another thought suddenly went through his head. Looking around, he asked, “Where did they take my horse? And my belongings? I’d hate to lose everything on my first day.” Laughing at himself, he returned to walking alongside Arath as they continued their stroll, the Asha’man assuring him that his things would be at his temporary lodgings and his horse would be in the stables.

 

That was good, thought Drak to himself. I’ve probably appeared too composed up to this point, and a bit of confusion probably doesn’t hurt. It will be interesting to see how they go about training their initiates, though. And I wonder about this other man Arath has taken under his wing… but first things first. Focus on the task at hand, or you’ll trip over your feet and nothing will come of your plans but a big pile of nothing.

 

Firming his jaws, Drak walked deeper into the Black Tower grounds, and one step closer to where he wanted to go.