A Wall Guarded

[Seiaman]

OOC: Continued from the old boards (http://dmpsw.com/dr/viewtopic.php?t=1049&highlight=)

 

Morgan laughed softly at Seia's jest and took a swig from the flask and then another. She'd never been much of a drinker, but nowadays a mug of ale was her favorite companion on dark nights. Handing the flask back, she yawned and stretched her stiffening arms. She knew she should be down in the yards training, but something of what Seia had said struck a chord in Morgan's head. For years she had trained and pressed herself to be better and better, not registering that she was really trying to be more and more useful to her bondmate. Somewhere along the way to where she was standing now, she'd lost sight of why she had enlisted in the Tower Guard nearly fifteen years ago. "I suppose the only reason I'm stll here," she said suddenly, answering her own unspoken question and Seia's inquiry, "is for answers. My work here is not yet finished, my lessons not all learned. I don't think I can walk away from this place until I have what I came for in the first place."

 

A silence rested between the two of them for a moment and Morgan shifted her stance, suddenly anxious to be somewhere else. She laughed nervously, but it soudned forced. "Light, if I've learned anything in my time here, it's how to make every sunny morning gloomy." Seia smiled and Morgan smiled sheepishly back. "I need to get to my training, but I know of an alehouse near the docks that makes a good stomping ground for cranky wenches like me. You're welcome to join me if you'd like. Stop by my room two hours after sundown and we'll go into town together, if you want." Feeling awkward again, Morgan barely waited for Seia's noncomittal reply before darting off to the Yards to drown her thoughts in the Spring and her forms.

 

OOC: You up for a dock brawl or two?

 

ooc: dock brawl sounds good to me

 

ic: Seiaman barely had time to give her consent of the evening's outing when Morgan nearly disappeared. Speaking towards her back, "I'll see you." and she watched as the woman walked off towards the Yards. Her words echoed in Seia's mind, "I suppose the only reason I'm still here is for answers. My work here is not yet finished, my lessons not all learned." She turned away and looked over the horizon of the city. Could it be that so many hopefuls in the Warders Yard are just like Morgan and myself? Seeking to find a way to justify their existence, to give their life meaning, and to fight for a common purpose? She let out a sigh and shook her head, "I hope you find your answers, Morgan." She knew she herself would never find the answers.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Rapping her knuckles over the door, she waited for a reply to come through the thick wood. The door opened and Morgan stepped out, eliciting a nod from Seiaman. "Ready?" The younger woman led the way as she followed and they stepped out into the cooling dusk. "It's been a while since I've been out in town for pleasure." She caught up to Morgan's stride and took her leads towards the alehouse. The air started to get thicker with the scent of fish. Weaponless save for her two small axes, she wouldn't illict any responses from daring men who thought her a mere merchant. She had too many incidents with the City Guard about her ... adventures in town. With a shake of her head to throw the memories out of her present awareness, she glanced over to Morgan. "So how long have you been going to this alehouse?"

 

~ Seiaman Kera

 

"Blood and bloody ashes!" Morgan gave the brush one more tug through her curls before slamming the thing on the table beside her washstand. How long had it been since she'd taken a brush to her hair? Light! Surely it hadn't been that long.

 

Truth be told, she was still trying to figure out why tonight should be any different than any other night. She had gone down to the docks hundreds of times with little more than a splash of water on her face. No matter how much she argued with herself, though, she couldn't get the lump out of her gut that had found her in the bath and later ripping her hair out with a brush just for a few ales with a woman she hadn't seen in years.

 

A knock at the door announced Seia's arrival and Morgan squeaked in spite of herself. Donning the grim porcelain mask, she grabbed her jacket and darted to the door. Pulling it open, she smiled and muttered an apology, though for what she had not idea. She felt every inch a fool. "Ready?" Seia asked with a grin. Morgan wanted to say no with the lump having grown to the size of a fist the moment she opened the door, but she fought down the urge and forced herself to close and lock her door behind her. She was ready to go to the docks, yes. One baby step at a time.

 

They walked in silence for a while, neither knowing quite what to say. Morgan was fiddling with the tip of her hook when Seia piped up and asked her about the alehouse. "Oh, it's nothing fancy, but I've wasted a night or two a week down here for the last couple of years." She licked her lips nervously. "I've wasted more than that lately, but there's nothing wrong with wanting to bury your worries at the bottom of a mug or two." She barked a laugh suddenly. "Or three." A memory tickled in the back of her mind and she looked over at Seia. "If I remember correctly, I believe you used to spend some time down here now and again. Your worries weren't buried so much as laid on the broken nose of a drunk sailor or two."

 

They laughed together and told stories about fights they'd seen or had, though Seia had more interesting stories to tell. Morgan kept to herself at the alehouses more often than not, her stale brown woolens all but blending into the walls she sat against. "There's supposed to be a dicing tournament tonight," she said as they neared the place. "I'm not much for gambling, but I thought I would try my luck for once. After all, what's the worst that could happen? I'll lose my other hand?" She laughed as they turned the last corner and the sounds of the alehouses washed out onto the streets lit only by the lights that spilled out of the windows. "There it is," she said pointing to the nearest one. The sign over the door was painted with what was supposed to be a mermaid choking a sailor. "The Sirens' Calling. Shall we?"

 

OOC: hi you two. is this still an open thread or am I too late? If you'd rather keep this too yourselves then just ignore my character. I won't fully bring him in yet.

 

IC:

Moridin had been wandering the city for some time now in search of a decent place to stop. He prefered the streets of Tar Valon to the training grounds at the tower simply because it was quiet and there was no one hanging around and asking him who he bloody well was. He was begining to get worried he was going to get caught in one of his lies as some people were begining to grow more curious and suspicous about the dark clad new guy who nobody seemed to know anything about. It had been one of the young recruits who had sent him down to the farthest reaches of the city tonight with his questions. The child had come up out of no where and began making comments on how Moridin reminded him of his father. And then, of course, came the torrent of questions about who he was, where he was from, if he had any children, about his parents. What was he to say to that?! He would hate to think that he would have forgotten children if he had any but he couldn't flaming remember! In the end he had snapped at the kid and sent him running off with sniffles. He didn't seem to good with kids so hopefully that meant he had none.

 

With those thoughts aside he looked up from his brooding to find himself outside of what looked and sounded like a tavern. He didn't care much for the crowds he would obviously find inside, but a drink would do him wuite well right now. Not caring anymore he headed inside to find the place in quite a ruckus. It was quite busy with a great lot of men and boys sitting around tables tosing dice and coins around in a mostly drunken state. Perfect. Drunk people tended not to notice an extra face and seemed to care even less. Either way he threw back the deep cowled hood of his cloak so as not to draw any unwanted attention to himself by standing out.

 

Taking a seat at the bar he ordered himself a drink, a very hard drink. He'd already found out from prior experiences that he was far from a light drinker and since this was hardly social outing he decided he was going to see about skipping the drinking stage and going straight to drunk. He needed to get that kid out of his mind. Light, who am I?

_________________

I wouldn't mind dying in a plane crash. It'd be a good way to go. I don't want to die in my sleep, or of old age, or OD... I want to feel what it's like. I want to taste it, hear it, smell it. Death is only going to happen to you once; I don't want to miss it. --- Jim Morrison

[Seiaman]

Seiaman glanced at the tavern and heard the raucous laughter coming from inside. "We shall." Out of habit, she stepped inside first and glanced around - the tavern was large but yet with the crowd of men and woman, it seemed to have shrunk. Morgan stepped past her and led the way to a vacant table near a group of young men fervently shouting their bets for the dicing match. She paid them no attention and took her seat across from her companion - the serving girl came up promptly and took their orders of drinks.

 

She straddled her bench and leaned back against the wall and watched the patrons of The Siren's Calling. Most of them were drunk and loud - the only women present in the room were the serving girls and the two Tower Guards. A few faces were familair from Seiaman's old haunts but she doubted they would recognize her with the feature changes she underwent. A man sat at the bar, apparent hunched over his drink and oblivious to all those around him. He was the only one doing such a thing but Seiaman quickly surmised he was just miserable. Wasn't everyone? She glanced at Morgan and saw that she was doing the same thing - drunk and loud men seemed to be in the habit of believing them inferior so it'd be good to size up the crowd.

 

The mugs finally came and Seiaman snatched hers up, raising it to a toast. "Here's to hoping for no trouble tonight." She took a hearty drink of her dark ale then sat torwards Morgan. But before she could open her mouth to begin a conversation, a young man most likely half her age stood at the end of their table and leaned forward, a sneer on his lips. "Well well well, what have we here? Two ugly ducklings." Seiaman glanced up at the boy, as did Morgan but both were silent. "What's the matter? Did they take your tongues along with your eye," he smirked as he glanced at Seiaman, "And burned your face off?"

 

She promptly grabbed the boy's wrist as she rose quicker than he could anticipate, twisting his arm behind his back and pulling it till she could nearly see the joint ready to pop out of the shoulder socket. "You'd do well to rejoin your friends, drink some more, and play another round of dice." The boy squirmed and his friends rose from their table - Morgan did the same - Seiaman released the boy and pushed him away. "Cast off, boy. You've no idea what you're doing." He hesitated for a moment but then rejoined his friends, glaring at her way with harmless poison.

 

She sat back down, "So much for not having trouble." She shook her head and glanced at the barkeep who seemed to also double as the bouncer. "So you said you wanted to try your luck at a round, hm?"

 

~ Seiaman Kera

[cale]

Morgan watched the haughty young man join his new friends, her muscles relaxing a hair when they sat back down and only shot a glance or two over their shoulders. She sat back down and raised her mug to her lips. The ale was bitter, but it only added to the tavern experience she had come to love. Something about being on edge the whole time made her feel alive. Guarding a wall couldn't hold a candle to the thrill of guarding your own back. She glanced at the young man again to see that he was already badgering someone else. It took her a moment to realize Seia had asked her a question.

 

"What? Oh, yeah. This silver has been burning a hole in my pocket all week." She patted the small purse at her waist and smirked mischeviously. "I might not be the luckiest girl this side of the Aryth Ocean, but I break even most nights." As she spoke, Morgan looked around the room and noticed a dark figure seated in the back of the tavern, his cloak drawn up to hide his face. It was clear the man was there for anything but the company of drunken sailors and Morgan quickly decided she didn't like the look of him. She absently fingered the tip of her cold, steel hook and made a note to keep an eye on him.

 

"If you don't mind," she said turning her attention back to Seia, "I think I'm going to join the fun. I like making these old boys meet my eye." She drained her mug and belched loudly. One of the serving women looked at her, not bothering to hide her disgust. Morgan barked a laugh and wiped her chin. "If you're not going anywhere, order me another one when she deigns to come back by, will ya?"

 

Morgan plopped down at a table and joined one of the games, letting the so-called Siren call her away into the night. Seia sat down beside her with another mug of ale and joined the fun. The added rush of a dice game only heightened her senses and she drank ale more to keep her mouth wet than for the taste. Before she knew it, she had a small pile of silver and a few gold crowns in her purse. As she took her winnings from the last throw, a newcomer joined the table. Seia had just returned with their fifth round--or was it their sixth?--and she felt the other woman tense up just as she herself did. Her slightly glazed-over eyes quickly focused on the young rogue from earlier in the evening.

 

He smiled at her, but he betrayed his drunkeness as he swayed to the left and then again to the right. "You might be lucky," he said more loudly than was necessary, "but I'll wager ten gold crowns that your ugly friend's got worse luck that her ugly old man." The gathered crowd started calling out bets before Morgan had even handed Seia the cup of dice. The other side of the table had been taken over by the boy's sneering posse and Morgan's good hand suddenly ached for the mace she had left in her room. She looked to Seia expectantly.

[Seiaman]

The time was going by quickly and the ale only had the effect of giving her a dull headache in her temples. Enjoy this while it lasts. As she went to the bar to refill their mugs, she took a swig from her flask, the sweet whiskey a welcoming taste from the bitter ale. As she returned to her table, she leaned back - passing on the opportunity to bet on the ready-to-roll dice. A foul scent crossed her nostrils and she looked up to see the offending boy returning, apparently hungry to bully someone. Seia sat up straight and quickly Morgan noticed. His words were spoken in a slur and she could tell that he had a hard time focusing his eyes. A quick glance at his party proved them all to be the same way. She never was attracted to the lure of the game but it helped time pass. She especially hated it when decent men were brought down to mere brutes by the thrill of dice.

 

With a quiet sigh, she swirled the leather cup and tipped it over, letting the dice fall onto the table - revealing a full house. Three roses and two stars. The crowd roared and almost instantly, the table was thrown by one of the boys in the gang and Seiaman stepped aside to avoid a thick fist heading for her head. She grabbed the wrist, gave the arm a twist as the heavy boy was flipped through the air and she twisted the arm till a snap rendered the boy useless. "What is your point, boy?" Daggers came out of sleeves and the crowd began to surround Seiaman and Morgan. She let out a sigh and brushed a few strands from her forehead. "Not again." She glanced over to see the bouncer struggling to get through the crowd to stop the fight before it began but he was too late.

 

The leader yelled and they all spurned into action. Morgan took over half of them while Seia took up the other half. She did not even bother to bring out her weapons - it was an unfair match and all she was going to do was give them bruises and broken bones to teach them a lesson. Her elbow broke one's nose - she had managed to grab two of the bullies and smack their heads together, turning to see who was next as they collapsed to the ground. The innocents were pouring out of the tavern and she turned to see a small boy sneering at her. She walked up to him aggressively and grabbed his wrist before he could stab her with a rusty dagger, picking him off the ground. "You're with the wrong crowd." She put him down and pushed him away when a welcome sight came through the crowd - the City Guards helmets.

 

She walked up to Morgan and pulled her out of her present fight, using her foot to kick the offender away. "Morgan. Enough." The City Guards grabbed the leader just before he could lunge again in his drunken stupor and the Captain broke through. "Seiaman bloody Kera! I might've known it was you!" She bowed slightly, she served under this man during her Guard duties - "Captain." She explained what had happened and his critical eye went over to Morgan then to the rowdy crowd of drunk boys who wanted vengence. "We were just seeking out an evening of dice, Captain." He scowled and turned away, barking out his commands to the City Guards.

 

Seia turned to Morgan only to find her gone. And she just realized that she had seen the woman without her mask. She made her way through the crowd out into the street, looking both ways to see if she could find the woman.

 

~ Seiaman Kera

 

ooc: go ahead and have your fun in the post :) Seia's been in too many of these to know what she shouldn't do. ;)

 

ooc2: edited my post to better reflect Morgan's :)

[Death Incarnate]

OOC: This has been awkwardly silent for too long. I think i'll let Moridin have a little fun.

 

IC: Moridin was working on his third cup of what was supposed to be the strongest drink they had to offer though the sludge was barely managing to give him a buzz. Did this mean he had been a strong drinker before? It didn't matter. Downing the rest of it in one go he nearly spat as it burned down his throat. His attention was drawn to the noise of a dicing game going on behind him though he didn't have a clue how the game was played so decided to stay out of it. One thing, or two, that caught his attention was a pair of very battle scarred looking women who were dicing with the lot. Light! What had happened to them? Light? Where did that come from? One of them, the one with the messy looking red curls, looked up from the game and noticed him staring. She seemed to quickly evaluate him and whatever she determined she turned her attention back to the game. Strange. Was she from the Tower? He didn't recognize her.

 

Turning back to his now empty drink he was about to order another when he heard a great cheer from behind him and then the sound of tables being flipped. Memories or no, he knew what that sound meant. Turning quickly he was up off the stool and taking in his new and rapidly changing surounding. The centre of attention seemed to be the two women he'd noticed before and they were surounded by a great mass of men. One of them Struck out first and the woman whom he attacked quickly grabbed his arm and he could easily hear the sickly snap as he twisted and dropped him to the ground. So they could fight. The odds still didn't seem to favour them and he decided to see if he could help even the odds.

 

They were facing away from him as the brawl overtook the room and he noticed two men laughing as they thought they were getting a sneak attack from behind. as they lunged he reched forward and grabbed both of them by the back of their coats and with a good hard tug pulled them off balance. using the moments of surprise to his advantage he let go and grabbing the backs of their heads, pushed forward throwing them both face first into the floor. Both lying there unconcious he moved on to the next. Another man had his back to Moridin and a knife out. Not wanting to take any chances he kicked the man in the back of the knee and as he fell he kneed him in the back of the head. Another unconcious fool on the floor and suddenly he heard a large amount of yelling coming from outside. Steel helmets were now bobbing up and down only just visible over the tops of other peoples heads. Amusing. Turning back he just barely managed to avoid a fist coming at his face and grabbing the arm he threw the man over his shoulder into another coming from behind. He now noticed that the two women were no longer brawling and the men attacking them were also lying on the floor. Deciding it best to stop now, he waited as they authorities began to fill the room. It must have seemed rather amusing to the soldiers coming in to break up the bar fight and finding three people simply standing there calmly amoungst a great many people lying on the floor either unconcious or nursing very painful injuries. He made his way to the bar to take a swig of his drink before remebering he had finished it earlier. Silently he cursed and contented himself to simply lean against the bar and look about the room. It seemed the two women were much better fighters then he had originally given them credit for.

 

"Seiaman bloody Kera! I might've known it was you!" Looking over at the man who had said that he saw the woman whom he had been talking to bow slightly before responding,

 

"Captain." So they were familiar. She began to relate to him the events of the evening to his very unsurprised ear as some of them men began to pick themselves or there comrades up from the floor. "We were just seeking out an evening of dice, Captain." Moridin couldn't help but laugh a little. It wasn't a particularly happy tone but he was amused. He had caught a brief look at their faces during the fight and hed put his guess that they had enjoyed that much more then dicing. Thinking for a second he admited to himself that it certainly had been his highlight.

 

OOC: alrighty lets get moving. we still have someone to introduce while the night is still young as I recall.

[cale]

OOC: I just lost a beautiful brawl and excellent set-up for Chandra's entrance when my computer crashed. I want my Mac back... :(

[cale]

A shadow fell across Morgan's face before the overturned table hit the floor. In a heartbeat, she saw the world from behind a dark veil that she had not seen through in a long time. With a snarl, she sprung like a coil and dug the wicked hook of her left hand into the shoulder of a would-be assailant, milking a most satisfying scream from his lips. She threw him to the ground and kicked him in the face before turning to take on another foe. Demons sprung to life as she greeted the lowlife with a cruel smile before a swift kick popped his knee out of socket and he collapsed to the floor with a cry. What she had always lacked in strength she made up for with speed, her blows blurred movements that sent unexpecting men to the floor.

 

Pivoting, she blocked a punch and countered, knocking out the remaining tooth of a man too old for scuffling. He pulled her down with him and they wrestled with one another before Morgan could pry his grip off of her hook and rendered him unconscious with a hard blow to his head. As she picked herself back up, she was too slow to dodge a cudgel and it landed her square in the face and breaking her nose. The room was spinning and her mask fell to the floor and she watched, stunned and bleary-eyed, as it was kicked further out of reach. For an instant, the room slowed and nothing existed but the mask and her. The veil lifted and she felt nothing but shame as blood poured down her scarred flesh and dripped onto the floor.

 

The world crashed back down on her as the cudgel struck her once more, this time on the shoulder. Morgan cried out in pain and grabbed the squat man by his throat. She pulled his face to hers and screamed her fury and shame. From lack of air or fear, his eyes rolled back in his head and he went slack from faint. She let him fall, her mind on the mask that was still intact on the other side of the room. She tripped over the serving woman and kicked her away, the woman screaming when she saw who she was holding onto. Crawling on all fours, Morgan reached the mask just as it was crushed under the hard leather boot of the bouncer.

 

She rolled to the side to avoid taking the boot to the face and pulled his other foot out from under him with her hook. His head met the edge of a table as he fell and he writhed on the floor, his hand covering a bloody gash. Morgan grabbed frantically for the largest piece of porcelain that remained and put it on with one graceful movement. Her eyes burned when they landed on the almost unconscious bouncer. She howled in rage and jumped on top of the man who had destroyed the only thing that protected her from the unforgiving eyes of the world. Blow after blow rained down on him and he moaned and held his hands over his face as Morgan pummeled him, deaf and blind to everything but her pain and endless shame. It wasn't until Seia was pulling Morgan off of his back that she realized the Guard has arrived.

 

She shrugged Seia off of her savagely and wiped the spittle and blood from the exposed scars of her chin. Her head still swam from the cudgel and she leaned against the wall. Holding the broken fragment of her mask that covered less that two thirds of her face. She saw the shards of porcelain that remained in the middle of the tavern floor and fought the urge to go and pick them up, told herself that it was futile. The owner of The Siren's Call was helping the serving woman up off of the floor and the image of the woman's terrified face burned into Morgan's memory. She felt more naked than she had ever felt before, ashamed to be seen in the light. As Seia briefed the captain on the events of the night, Morgan disappeared into the merciful sanctuary of the night.

 

Walking in the darkest shadows of the street, Morgan made her way back to the Tower. Her head was still swimming as she battled the demons of her past, demons that had so readily reanimated themselves that night. After all this time, she still felt every inch the monster Lanfear had trained her to be, every inch the monster that had betrayed her bondmate in her hour of need. Guilt-stricken and more than a little buzzed, she stumbled through the shadowy streets of Tar Valon seeing nothing but her fallacies.

 

OOC: Much better, I think. Chandra! That's your cue, darling. :)

[Odette]

The plan was to come and find a new life, to get a way from the poverty and prove that she could do better, prove that she was not worthless. Yet here she sat, slouched in the dark on a pile of straw and refuse that buffeted her travel weary muscles from the unevenly spaced hard cobbles that paved narrow corridor between two buildings. Long shadows were cast over her, hiding her from the dim glows of lamplights inside a few of the buildings across the street. What a bloody foolish plan.

 

The pangs of hunger in Chandra's belly had begun to take on voices of their own. Gentle nudges at first, reminding her that it had been more than a day and a half since she was able to scrounge up enough coin to pay for a small loaf of bread. She had tried to refrain from pilfering the food, or the coin for that matter - a new life truly needed to be new. Alas, there were relapses, but she could live with that. Now the voices, angry shouts, were telling her to do whatever was needed. It was times like these when she would have stolen a pear from a child's hands just to quiet the excruciating yells from her stomach. Of course, even though the full moon's light washed over the city, giving the streets that eerie illumination that lets travellers travel after dark, it was far too dark out for any child to safely meander the streets. Easy prey like that wouldn’t show till the morning and she doubted her stomach would let her wait that long.

 

Then, just above the horizon of her hearing and just barely louder than the background buzz of the city’s life, Chandra heard a scuffling of boots along the cobbles. The scuffling was uneven, a few footfalls followed by a pause, a tell-tale sign that she had seen and taken advantage of many a time back in the Rahad. But there was more than just the sound of scuffling. Two other sounds filled the air: The first was a disconcerting ringing and scrape, as if a knife were being dragged along a brick. The second, and the one that set her mind afire, was the tinkling jingle of coins rattling in a purse. Quickly Chandra formulated a new plan a simple plan. She would lie in wait, and when the person came into view she would pounce, using her speed to catch them off guard. Knock them down, flat on their backs and take the purse. Then run as fast a she could until she found a place to eat. Yes, it was good and simple plan.

 

She could tell the person was coming closer, not just from the sounds, but from the shadows. The person was hugging the wall, trying to stay concealed in the darkness, but on occasion a long shadow would bob up into the light and betray its owner’s position.

Chandra waited, crouching like a ratter cat awaiting its prey, her muscles were taught, twitching and trembling from exhaustion. Her heel was rubbing against some of the refuse lying on the ground creating a chaffing sound.

 

Her opening arrived, the person was just in front of her and she wasted not the opportunity. Like a coiled spring, she shot out of the darkness, refuse flying behind her, out into the light and then again into another pool of darkness. She lunged forward planning to knock the person down while they were unprepared. Just before she made contact the person turned and swivelled out of the way. The new plan, just like all of her plans had just failed.

 

Her prey, the victim, had continued to spin around and was now behind Chandra. When the painful shock hit her back she knew instantly that she should stop wasting her time with bloody plans. The sound that accompanied the pain in her back scared her more than anything else, like a stalk of celery being snapped in half, she prayed to the Creator that it was just a rib and not her spine. She fell to the ground and rolled onto her back - a place and position she was growing far too familiar with in the past few weeks.

 

Chandra could barely make out the silhouette of her intended victim leaning over her but she could see an arm raised, ready to strike. She tried look into the person’s eyes, to size up her opponent, but all she could see was a glinting refraction of torch light that she couldn’t understand. “WAIT!†Chandra cried out, trying to buy herself some time while her nimble but trembling hand slid down to her hip to grasp onto one of the mismatched daggers that had served her well back home. But this place, Tar Valon, wasn’t the Rahad at all.

 

 

 

OOC: Hi! ^_^. I just wanted to say thank you to all of you, especially Seia and Moridin! I understand that helping out with boring old trainee requirements may not be the most entertaining thing, so I really want you to know that I appreciate it!. And Cale, Thanks!. ^_^

 

-Chandra

Morgan's newest bundle of responsibility.

[Death Incarnate]

OOC: No prob. So... did you lot wanna fight a wee bit more or should Moridin jump in and try and break this up now?

[cale]

OOC: Slight LOA until Sunday. Please wait. :)

[cale]

The streets of Tar Valon were never quite dark enough for the majority of those who wished to go unseen. On a better, slightly more sober night, Morgan might have been able to slip from shadow to shadow without detection. Tonight, though, she trudged loudly on the cobblestone streets with her head swimming and her ears still ringing, her hook scraping across the buildings she leaned against as she walked. She breathed through her mouth in ragged, uneven breaths and the blood from her broken nose had stopped flowing and was drying to her face and chin. Her head was hung, her half-open eyes staring vacantly at the ground as she shied drunkenly away from the brighter spots of the streets.

 

She didn't pay much attention to where she was going. Morgan sought only the darkest shadows the city could offer, sought refuge from the piercing eyes of passersby. Since she retired from office, she had hidden in plain sight, fading into the monotony of everyday life. She became used to going unnoticed or unremarked and welcomed a life away from the public eye. The moment the porcelain mask shattered on the tavern floor, everything blurred in a myriad of emotions and feelings painfully old and uncomfortably new. Now, the lamp posts shed light on the fears and insecurities she worked to bury. The dark truths she had run from now came crashing down on her. The closer she got to the light, the bigger and darker the shadows of her past became.

 

Morgan paused beside an alleyway for a moment adjusting what remained of her mask. She thought she heard someone walking behind her, someone who did not wish to be heard. It could have been her imagination, but when she pulled away from the wall, she was wrapped in The Spring, her muscles on edge and movements cautious. She didn't look back to see who it was.

 

She heard only the shuffle of soft leather moving from within the alleyway to her left before she jumped back, clumsily dodging her assailant's charge. The figure tripped and Morgan grabbed at his collar and missed, instead catching him by the forearm as he fell. Light, how drunk was she? Already off balance, the momentum of her attacker's charge and fall pulled Morgan down with him. She had only tenth of a second to curse her carelessness before she landed on the cobblestones and the fragment of porcelain fell away to reveal her scarred face again.

 

The boy--he was too small to be anything else--grunted as he hit the ground and his would-be victim fell right on top of him. They scuffled for a few seconds, Morgan keeping the boy's small knife from splitting open her belly. He rolled away, but Morgan's hook was tangled his shirt and she pulled him back and punched him square in the nose. She snarled and raised her fist to strike again. "Wait!" he cried before she had even hit him. In a flash, Morgan realized it was not a boy but a girl. She hesitated, confused and disoriented. Before she could process the sudden revelation, though, she heard footsteps behind her. Someone was rapidly approaching.

 

In a heartbeat, Morgan was on her feet and facing another shadowy figure, the world spinning and her head and heart pounding one against the other. She didn't give the newcomer and notice before she slashed at him with her hooked hand wildly. He was forced to defend himself and a knife flashed in the night as he parried her attacks. He was quicker than she had expected, but flustered as she was, she was still faster. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the knife flying into the air and caught it with her right. She barked a laugh of victory and, with the knife ready to throw and the wicked steel hook gleaming in the night, she held her attackers where they stood.

 

"You picked the wrong woman to dance with tonight," she said angrily between breaths.

[Death Incarnate]

Moridin managed to slip out of the bar while everyone else was preocupied and with the crowd that had gathered outside it was easy to lose anyone who might have noticed his leaving. Reactions of the masses were typical, predictable and handy. A fight starts and instead of doing the sensible thing and getting away, crowds always seem to gather. Tonight it worked to his advantage. Deciding that enough was enough for the night he chose a random street to take him back to the tower as he knew nothing of the geography of the city. He could make out the Tower in the Distance so he knew he was traveling in the right general direction.

 

As he wound through the mass of streets he heard what sounded like steel scraping on stone somewhere in the shadows ahead of him and assumed it was probably a drunk soldier or noble dragging what would be a poorly cared for sword back to a post or barracks he certainly hoped guards within the city knew better then to be out getting drunk while on duty! A noble... he didn't need memories to know their type. he was on the point of dismissing it when he heard some brief yelling and the sound of people hitting the ground. It would be just like a noble to go and pick a fight with some homeless person for a laugh. Some exagerated tale to tell friends later on. Growing significantly more digruntled he pulled a small dagger out from his boot deciding his sword would not be necessary and ran forward. As he reached the scuffle the larger of the two combatants leapt unsteadily to their feet and turned towards him. He was somewhat shocked to discover it was no Noble but one of the women from the barfight. He was so surprised he barely managed to bring his dagger to bare in time to stop the hook that lashed out towards him. A flicker of a thought passed through his mind and he saw something else lash out towards his throat in the dark and after that flicker had passed he realized he had been disarmed. Blood and Bloody Ashes! That made twice now! What was going on with him and what were those flaming images flashing through his mind?! They happened to quickly for him to recall any details about them but all he knew is something had slashed at his throat. Slightly obvious given the massive scar that ran across it.

 

Shaking himself mentally he refocused himself on what was unfolding infront of him. He was now standing there unarmed while his opponent stood there with a very sharp hook at the ready and a knife held ready to throw in her hand. She wasn't as large as he was though and he would have to press his strength advantage as she was obviously faster. Glancing over quickly he noticed another young slip of a girl just getting to her feet on the other side of the woman. She looked downright terrified and given her assailant she had perfect reason to be. the woman made quite the scary sight.

 

"You picked the wrong woman to dance with tonight," Moridin's blood was already on the boil from the flashes and he wasn't in the mood to take any of this. And what had happened between her and that girl? He couldn't picture that tiny girl having been stupid enough to start a fight with someone so obviously larger and quite deadlier then herself.

 

"I'm sure that probably goes for any night." he shot back as he drew his sword and lunged aiming disarm her of his knife. She held it loosley ready for throwing so he had a decent chance to knock it away. He kept the blade sharp and a projectile weapon was always more of a threat then one solidly hooked, pun intended, to ones body. Not to mention he didn't want her striking at the girl with it. His sword quickly darted towards the knife but as fast as he was, she was faster. Before he reached it she had altered her grip to something more firm and was now using it to block. His blade was parried harmlessly with both knife and hook and while the hook held the blade the knife darted out and cute his arm. Now further angered he pushed forward with his blade and she stumbled backward slightly before catching himself. Strength versus speed. This was going to hurt

[Death Incarnate]

Moridin managed to slip out of the bar while everyone else was preocupied and with the crowd that had gathered outside it was easy to lose anyone who might have noticed his leaving. Reactions of the masses were typical, predictable and handy. A fight starts and instead of doing the sensible thing and getting away, crowds always seem to gather. Tonight it worked to his advantage. Deciding that enough was enough for the night he chose a random street to take him back to the tower as he knew nothing of the geography of the city. He could make out the Tower in the Distance so he knew he was traveling in the right general direction.

 

As he wound through the mass of streets he heard what sounded like steel scraping on stone somewhere in the shadows ahead of him and assumed it was probably a drunk soldier or noble dragging what would be a poorly cared for sword back to a post or barracks he certainly hoped guards within the city knew better then to be out getting drunk while on duty! A noble... he didn't need memories to know their type. he was on the point of dismissing it when he heard some brief yelling and the sound of people hitting the ground. It would be just like a noble to go and pick a fight with some homeless person for a laugh. Some exagerated tale to tell friends later on. Growing significantly more digruntled he pulled a small dagger out from his boot deciding his sword would not be necessary and ran forward. As he reached the scuffle the larger of the two combatants leapt unsteadily to their feet and turned towards him. He was somewhat shocked to discover it was no Noble but one of the women from the barfight. He was so surprised he barely managed to bring his dagger to bare in time to stop the hook that lashed out towards him. A flicker of a thought passed through his mind and he saw something else lash out towards his throat in the dark and after that flicker had passed he realized he had been disarmed. Blood and Bloody Ashes! That made twice now! What was going on with him and what were those flaming images flashing through his mind?! They happened to quickly for him to recall any details about them but all he knew is something had slashed at his throat. Slightly obvious given the massive scar that ran across it.

 

Shaking himself mentally he refocused himself on what was unfolding infront of him. He was now standing there unarmed while his opponent stood there with a very sharp hook at the ready and a knife held ready to throw in her hand. She wasn't as large as he was though and he would have to press his strength advantage as she was obviously faster. Glancing over quickly he noticed another young slip of a girl just getting to her feet on the other side of the woman. She looked downright terrified and given her assailant she had perfect reason to be. the woman made quite the scary sight.

 

"You picked the wrong woman to dance with tonight," Moridin's blood was already on the boil from the flashes and he wasn't in the mood to take any of this. And what had happened between her and that girl? He couldn't picture that tiny girl having been stupid enough to start a fight with someone so obviously larger and quite deadlier then herself.

 

"I'm sure that probably goes for any night." he shot back as he drew his sword and lunged aiming disarm her of his knife. She held it loosley ready for throwing so he had a decent chance to knock it away. He kept the blade sharp and a projectile weapon was always more of a threat then one solidly hooked, pun intended, to ones body. Not to mention he didn't want her striking at the girl with it. His sword quickly darted towards the knife but as fast as he was, she was faster. Before he reached it she had altered her grip to something more firm and was now using it to block. His blade was parried harmlessly with both knife and hook and while the hook held the blade the knife darted out and cute his arm. Now further angered he pushed forward with his blade and she stumbled backward slightly before catching himself. Strength versus speed. This was going to hurt

[Seiaman]

Seiaman wrapped up the matter with the Captain who had grabbed her at the last minute with more questions. In her mind, she wanted to find Morgan and make sure the woman was not harmed in the bar fight. The boys sneered at Seiaman while the Guards dragged them to the city jail but she ignored them. With a nod for the Captain, she stepped away and headed towards the general direction of the Tower. She had a feeling that Morgan would've taken the most direct path to her quarters but not one that was well lit. Before long, a commotion was audible and a few city folk were running towards the direction of it. "What's happening?"

 

A boy in passing shouted, "There's a fight!" With a sigh, Seiaman started to run towards the commotion, hoping that it was not Morgan and a boy from the barfight who had gotten away from the City Guards. Upon her arrival, her eyes adjusted to the dim light and saw Morgan by the hook she had for a hand. "Morgan!" The boy advanced but not before Seiaman had grabbed his wrist and twisted it, forcing his weapon in the air. And she placed herself between the two, making eye contact with Morgan. Lowering her voice, "Enough blood has been shed tonight." She turned to look at the man, recognizing him from the bar they were just at. And his face flashed in her memory, having seen him in the Yards - practicing his forms.

 

Seiaman released the man's wrist and immediately noticed a young child with a small knife in her hand. "Put that away. You face no chance against a Tower Guard of the White Tower." The crowd around them started to disperse and a couple of City Guards came but left as soon as they realized that Seiaman got it under control. "Morgan. You are safe?" She looked at the woman dead straight, without wavering from the scars that looked back. She nodded, "Good."

 

The street fight was over - Morgan turned and disappeared quickly. Seiaman looked at the man but decided not to say anything. "And you? Are you harmed?" He shook his head. She nodded and glanced at the child. "And you are still around because?"

[Death Incarnate]

Moridin sruck for the knife again as that was the biggest threat to either him or the girl but as he moved forward he felt someone grab his wrist. How oblivious had he become to his suroundings? As he tried to counter it he felt it become twisted and a sharp pain lanced through his arm as it was pushed upward and he was rendered defenceless. He was in even more shock when he realized it was the other woan from the bar. Seiaman had the captain called her? Either way her attention was on the other woman whom he had been fighting. Why was she restraining him? He hadn't started this! Either way he could hardly do much about his situation.

 

"Enough blood has been shed tonight." Her voice was low and cold and once the words were out of her mouth she turned her gaze to him. He faught to keep his face blank through the pain in his wrist though anger was still very predominant and it likely showed. She took a look at his face and suddenly something seemed to occur to him and she released his wrist. It took a fair deal of effort not to rub it but a few quick sureptitious rotations and it felt alright again. Sheathing his sword he turned his attention back ot the two women and made sure the small girl was okay. Seiaman was now staring straight into her friends eyes and for the first time Moridin got a good look at her face. He had noticed she was scarred before but the extent of it had not been visible. No wonder that girl was so terrified. Light!

 

"Morgan. You are safe?" Morgan nodded to her and that seemed to satisfy the questioning. Seiaman turned briefly to him and asked if he was hurt but he merely shook his head. It was obvious enough to the eye that he was cut but it was nothing serious. Simple light cuts from the knife. His knife! Suddenly he noticed Morgan disapearing into the dark and when Seiaman turned her attention to the girl he took off after her. The girl would be fine now.

 

"Hey!" He yelled as he drew closer. He wanted her to know he was coming so she didn't bloody spin around with that flaming hook of hers again. "Hey, I'm talking to you! What in bloody light was that?" His temper was still somewhat up and she had taken his flaming knife!

 

OOC: Just to clarify though i'm not coming back for round two. just felt like opening some extra RPing doors with you cale. If you don't care for it just ignore him or do whatever.