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Arath Faringal

Answering the Call (BT-CotS InterDiv)

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A strong wind flowed through the abandoned field, a little to the west of Fal Moran.  The wind carried the heavy stench of smoke, of battle, of death.  The peaceful appearance of the field was at a stark contrast with the rest of the dying country of Shienar.  No matter which direction one travelled, they would soon find the ravaging hordes of shadowspawn.  The trollocs and Fades pressed on relentlessly, killing many lucky ones, capturing the not so lucky.  Only the most blood curdling screams reached this far, and even then only as faint whispers.

 

A sudden flash of light disrupted the quiet of the field, as a shimmery blue line appeared and began to rotate into a hole in the air.  Within moments, dozens of similar lines appeared, each opening in turn to offer the same scene.  Dozens of black coated men, all with swords strapped to their belts, and many with silver or gold pins at their necks.  Once the gateways had snapped open, the men poured through the holes in the air.  The Asha'man had arrived in dying Shienar, intent upon saving the borderlander nation.

 

~~~

 

Arath led the charge through the gateways with his attack group.  One hundred Soldiers, Dedicated, and Asha'man streamed through the portals onto the plains of Shienar, just outside Fal Moran.  He quickly ordered his men into defensive positions while the remaining forces came through.  It appeared as though the immediate area was safe enough, but if there were any dreadlords nearby they surely would have sensed the use of so much Saidin. 

 

Arath scanned the horizon, face palling some.  Smoke rose in great pillars in countless places to the north, east, and west.  Even from Fal Moran there was a great billowing black cloud arising, though it looked as though men still fought to keep the city from falling. 

 

No attack immediately fell upon the Asha'man though, and soon four hundred men of the Black Tower and their supplies had all passed through the gateways.  The Asha'man fell into ranks, quietly whispering to eachother about their bleak surroundings.  Arath took one last look at Fal Moran returning his attention to his men.  It would begin soon.  Light willing many of them would live through it.

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Martyn stepped through the gateway, and the first thing he was hit by was a feeling he thought he had buried long ago. The feeling of war, of Trolloc raids from the Blightborder. Of burning villagers, desperately trying to make a stand until the regiments could get there. Usually, the quick response troops got there in time to keep the Shadowspawn from returning to the Blight with prisoners. Usually.

 

As it was, especially Fal Moran struck home to him, and it had taken him a few seconds to realise that it was the Shienarian capital burning. Fal Moran, not Jenaan. Still, he felt overcome by anger, the Void forming a last line of defense against losing his self control, years of soldiering experience teling his body that rushing ahead on his own would do no good in the face of battle. Hold the line, hold the village. Those words were ones he had lived by for years, and he found he still lived by them now.

 

Taking a couple of deep breaths, he calmed himself, releasing the fists he had been clenching so that the veins stopped throbbing up to his elbows. The smell and sight of the battlefield did not upset him that much past the initial shock, he had been raised like that. His trial of fire had already taken place decades ago, unlike some others. A face like grim death, he moved over to Arath, voice sounding like ice that was about to crack.

 

- "Attack Leader, what are your orders?"

 

He spoke loud and clear, almost shouting, much like how a soldier would speak to an officer. Outside of the Void, he hoped it would be enough to help others snap out of it. Outside of the Void, he was seething with rage and hatred against the Shadowspawn. But the Void was strong, it had been through this many times already and would many times more. The light of saidin beckoned, and for once he accepted its presence. There were more important things to worry about now.

 

 

Martyn

Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.

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T'an was sleeping waiting for the nigth to come and time to patrol, many moons had passed since they had come out of the blight, at first there had often been battles, but soon enough they had been over. Once the imidiate battles had passed she had had time to heal her wounds by mainly patroling, she fed upon wildlife most of the time, though now and again there was cause to kill more humans, and with game being skithish the meat never went to waste, specialy as hungry trollocs wasnt beyond stealing if they had the chanse. It was different this time, those twolegged with powers was controlling the game and for some reason they did not wish the area cleared out like her elders told that the area so long ago had been that they passed through when coming out. One of her brothers was off somewhere trying to hide and heal a wound given by a flash of brigth light when he had attacked some small two legged trying to run from them huging some type of replica of itself even smaller.

 

She was hiding under some stones, it wasnt good to know where the rest of the pack was off, they disbanded when dawn came to find hiding places for the next night patrol, it was important, because it was in the nigth most of the two legged still tried to come up with no good. But now something felt wrong, more like smelled wrong, she had setled out in nowhere so she wouldnt have to smell those two legged while resting, and now smells of several was drifting to her, it was still light outside, but her stones was heavily masked by tree's and it was a rainy day so there was plenty of darkness under the trees, so she dared step outside to gain a better look, sneaking from shadow to shadow untill she could peek out. Her eyes fastened downwards on an opening, an asemblance of uniformed two legged, and none of the type she had seen before, glimers of metal by their sides, a shivering went through her, this smelled wrong. She itched away to a better place completly hidden and far enough off from her hiding she could scury safely back after and hide.

 

It was still too light down on the glen for her taste, so this one she would be happy to leave to the shadow walkers and trollocs, puting her head back though she knew enough to alert them, and drawing her breath deeply she let out her best howl into the skies to bring the intruders presence to the attention of any other of lords army followers that may be in the area. Then she trodded over soft earth making sure not to tread on any stones as she sougth her little hide out again.

 

 

ooc welcome to the Gate to the Blight ;)

 

------------------

 

Aslan found himself in Araths group, he had never been up to the borderlands, and for him the shadowspawn was but fairytales told by mothers to scare children. He wondered still wheter it really could be true that such creatures exsisted, or if it was an exadgeration by men. He knew soon enough he would learn first hand what the truth was, and he followed through one of the gates made by some of the other Asha'men, no need for everyone to make their own.

 

He looked around and grinned his nose, smoke was in the air still by some torched trees here and there sorounding the plain they were on, traces of battle could be seen, but otherwise for the moment it seemed calm, like the calm after a storm. Was their intell corect, or was it behind schedule, were they too late, though this was not at all what he had heard about of how the bligth was suposed to be, in fact a white blanket all in all hid a lot of traces that may lay bellow it, and it made it easy to spot tracks, though it had rained so the snow was beaten down, it easily hardened under his foot as he steped around.

 

Then a sound broke him out of his thougths as it manifested all through his body and down the spine, it was the most erie sound he had ever heard, he looked around after he had shook it off and located his old teacher, with a few quick steps he had troded over to Arath. "What in the bloody shadow was that?" his eyes was scaning the soroundings looking for an attack, but nothing more happened imidiatly and the sound was not repeated, trollocs from what he had learned was gutural, fades mostly silent, he somewhat knew there exsisted other spawn but it had never been the focus of his study, and he could still hear the ecco in his head of the sound, sudenly the clouds seemed darker and his neckhairs was still standing on edge as he awaited the answer.

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It was a nice quiet day in the Fortress. Many Shadowspawn were gone from around and a large number of Dreadlords and a handful of Adepts had gone on that raid in Sheinar, so it was quiet. Tigara had had a class to teach today, so he wasn't required to go. He found himself teaching a lot lately. Yes, he was very skillful and good at dealing with absolute buffoons trying to channel, but he didn't really enjoy it. He needed to disappear for longer periods of time.

 

He had felt large amounts of saidin being used all morning during the raid, but when it suddenly stopped, he naturally assumed the raid was over. Some Dreadlords came back to the Fortress already, as well as all of the Adepts.It was then he felt a very large amount of saidin being used from the same place as before. He was certain every sadin channeler in the Fortress could feel it. They hadn't felt it long before a dark-skinned dreadlady, who he never recognized, came into the common room demanding all Dreadlords be on standby. And he knew right away what it was. Those "Asha'man" were a very large threat, but a Trolloc axe would kill them as easy as any person. They were just harder to get close enough to to do such an act, that's all.

 

His pace was more brisk than usual as he descended the steps to the Traveling room. Others were there as well, but many of them were off to prepare the Shadowspawn...again. Tig wasn't fond of Shadowspawn, so he usually went to assess the battlefield. A silver line opened into a Gateway and he stepped through. The raid from before had been very thorough. The ground was coal black and smoked infrequently. Larger billows of smoke were in sight to the sides and the sky was very hazy. He could sense saidin a few hills over and stood his ground, waiting for the others.

 

Tigara Kazim

Dreadlord

 

~**~

 

A poor farmwife lurked around in a near-dead grove of leatherleaf and watched a host of Gateways open. Hundreds of men in black coats flooded through and formed into rank. She was behind them and her eyes narrowed. She rubbed her pale nose and stroked her blonde hair in her hands. This was certainly a predicament that she didn't want to be a part of. Not directly, of course. No, she was far better suited to covert operations. She embraced the Source and wove a Gateway for Skimming. She was not particularly gifted in Gateways. Hers were barely big enough for her small self to fit through comfortably. Se stepped onto the simple platform and Skimmed to the Fortress. They needed to know.

 

A dark-skinned woman with a certain grace stepped through the Gateway in the lower rooms of the Fortress. Terra Cyrene was very good at what she did, and what she did was disguise. If there had been a Talent for the Mask of Mirrors, she would have had it. Although it was not a Talent as such, long years of practice had given her a skill no one could laugh at. Even without the One Power, she could easily make herself look like a different woman with make-up, clothes, and mannerisms. She took confident strides towards the Mashadar's chamber. "Lord Mashadar, Asha'man have arrived at the raid sight. A few hundred of them." His answer was quick. "Ready the armies. Send for the Dreadlords." "Yes my lord." she said turning away and running down halls to rouse the Dreadlords.

 

It hadn't taken long before the entire Fortress was armed for Battle. The Shadowspawn hadn't gone far since the last raid ended, so they were quickly turned around. This job was done. Now it was the fun job. She made her way to the armory and found a sword that wasn't too heavy, then wove another Gateway and went back to her thicket. Upon stepping out of her Gateway, she emerged not a she, but a he. Dressed in a Asha'man's coat, she wore the silver pin on her coat collar. Her skin, hair, and eyes remained the same color, but they were altered enough that they were definitely the facial features of a Tairen man. She even added an oiled beard for effect. Once the battle started, she would just slip into their ranks and work her magic. It was time to play a very dangerous game. She knew they could sense her channeling, but hopefully they would assume it was another Dreadlady. Very dangerous.

 

Terra Cyrene

Temp Dreadlady

 

~**~

 

Ikki stepped out of the Gateway and nearly vomited right there. The smell of death was heavy. He could see all the destruction that these Trollocs caused. He didn't know what they looked like, but they were very good at what they did by any means. He formed into rank and embraced the Source. Feeding his nausea into the Void did help. But even feeding his nervousness into the Void didn't stop him from visibly shaking. He wasn't ready for this, no matter what his teachers said. he prepared a strong shield weave to go off at a moments notice. Paranoia? Yes!

 

Ikkiliad sur Paendrag

Dedicated

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Geirrin stepped through the gateway and nearly lost the contents of his stomach.  The foul stench filled his nose forcing his hands to his abdomen.  He quickly formed the void pushing everything into it.  The taint dancing around the edges of the void seemed more prevelant today.  Some just stood there like him while the veterans of battles filed around him to take their place in line.  They were part of the main assault group and would likely be the first to see battle.  He was not sure if it was that thought or the cold climate of the borderlands that sent shivers through his body. 

 

His saidin enhanced vision suddenly took in the torn shapes that littered the ground.  Not all of them were human and not all of them were whole.  Trollocs and Lurks carpeted the ground as well.  Gruesome twisted shapes and body parts were everywhere that he looked.  He closed his eyes though the visions formed on the inside of his eyelids. 

 

Geirrin very nearly wove a gateway wishing he was back at the farm.  No forget the farm, he would have made one to his childhood home and forgot all about channeling saidin.  Back where Trollocs and Lurks were just wives tails meant to scare children to do their bidding.  Geirrin stood there, his body stiff as a statue with the exception of his shaking hands.  The Light help us he thought then said a prayer to the creator.  Not just one but several.

 

 

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Sereth found himself in the flanking wing opposite of Arath’s group. The unfamiliar Attack Leader barked his orders before stepping through the gateway, but the Asha’man couldn’t force himself to listen fully. His mind was elsewhere, preparing himself for what was to come.

 

He wove his own gateway, laying it only a few inches next to the attack leaders own by accident. The officer didn’t seem to care about how close they were, more concentrated on organizing the men into a rank and file alignment, Sereth found himself on the front lines with very general instructions. “Hit a lot of them hard Asha’man Sereth, I’ve seen you channel, strong but clumsy. Big attacks, nothing fancy.” The Andorian nodded his head, sinking into himself.

 

He was about to throw away his life as a quiet intellectual, studying books and people with equal glee. He knew that what he was going to be forced to do today would forever mar him, but he accepted that on the day he came to the farm. He accepted that when he first learned he could channel, and that the taint would eventually consume him. Still, he knew it would be a hard transition, and he couldn’t let what he was doing affect what he was doing. He needed to remain focused, sharp as a blade’s edge. The void would provide some protection from the mental barrage, but it wouldn’t be enough. Or would it?

 

A theory he had, about reaching a true single minded determination, relying upon Ko’di as a base, only stronger. Most minds wouldn’t be able to achieve it, that much he knew. He however, wasn’t most minds. He began slowly, picturing the candle flame, and began feeding his emotions into it, but stopped, realizing he’d need something much stronger. He pictured a forge in his mind, feeding himself into the fires until he was consumed. The void enveloped him, but still he brought the forge with him, adding the din of a hammer to taper the edges of the sphere that was the void in his mind, making it angular, sharp. His entire consciousness was focused into a blade, a blade filled with Saidin. He embraced the source, the taint still making his stomach curl, and he knew his mind was being sapped by the contact, but while he was in this state he felt none of it.

 

His entire body relaxed in response to this change, ready for whatever the shadow could throw at it. He held only a fraction of his power, waiting to see his foe before he would draw upon his full strength and lay waste to rank upon rank of his foes. Somewhere outside the blade, revulsion at what he had done to his magnificent mind flared. A revulsion that never touched him…

 

((Just to be clear, this won’t really add anything to his ability to channel, it is more to temporarily get rid of the shock of tearing apart ‘living’ beings, basically throwing him into shock. If there is a problem with it, let me know, and I’ll change it. Either way I have plans. ))

 

---

 

Arcon Dadread was in Fal Moran, busily trying to attach himself to the blademaster chosen, working his way up the ladder so to speak. It was one of his many self-assigned duties, and he attacked this one with the same determination as he had all the rest, living to serve the shadow the best way he knew how; political intrigue. The Trollocs could take the field, for all he cared, he’d use the mask of mirrors, gentle sleep weaves, assassination, and his skills at Daes Dae’mar to do what they never could. He’d work at the head while they fought the rest of the body of the light.

 

Then he heard the darkhound’s howl, and for a brief moment the thoughts of who to bribe, who to kill, and what to say left his mind. It was a signal, that much he knew, and connected with the huge amount of Saidin he felt being channeled only moments before, meant one thing. The Asha’man had arrived. He went to the stables and barked at the stableboy to saddle his horse. Riding wasn’t a skill he had held for very long, but he was quickly becoming skilled. When his horse was complete, the stablehand left, leaving Arcon to weave a hole in the Weave, and travel a few miles back from the shadowspawn encampments closest to the Asha’man’s arrival. There was no sense in letting them know that there was a Dreadlord in the area.

 

He quickly gathered the Fades to him, as he seemed to be the first Dreadlord in the area, and drew up some quick battle plans. “They are new to the area; don’t give them a chance to settle in. Move the trollocs in and do what you can to overwhelm them, and don’t count on Dreadlord support.” The eyeless’ glare still cut through him, but from all of his years in the Fortress he had gotten used to squelching that fear. The Fades obeyed his commands reluctantly, using their holds over the beastmen to quickly organize them to move out. They had miles through the brush to traverse before they reached the field that the Asha’man had assembled upon, but still, the shadow was marching to meet this new threat…

 

((OOC Note from Ata, dreadlords aren’t to be involved to much with part one, this is BT’s time to shine. Arcon is just there to observe and call in help when it’s needed, and to get the ball rolling from the shadow’s side.))

 

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Covai spat on the corpse of a trolloc as he rode past. Partially it was in disgust, but mostly it was an attempt to get the foul taste out of his mouth. He knew the borderlands could be bad but this.....this was on a whole different scale.

 

Nudging his horse back towards the rest of their forces, Covai tried to weight the situation in his mind. Close to four hundred men were assembled. It was the largest war gathering of male channlers for hundreds of years...and yet the thought brought no solace to the Storm Leader's mind. Half these men had never seen a battle before. And few of the one's that had had any real strength in the One Power. True, they knew how to kill. But stone manikins were different to flesh and blood.

 

"Arath, Kirrisin, to me!" Covai barked his orders. The Asha'man assembled had spread out to form a perimeter, and dotted amongst them were a handful of Soldiers and Dedicated still trying to hold their lunch down. It was not a welcoming sight. Saidin was hard enough to command for most when calm, the fear of the taint keeping many holding back. Still, he knew soon enough the threat of madness would give way to the threat of a blade. Even the most hesitant would fight when cornered. And they also had safety in numbers.....for now at least.

 

As the three commanders assembled between their forces and the blight, Covai motioned then closer. "Listen, we don't know that the light we're in here for." Covai spat, still unable to get the stench of the place out of his mouth. "Kirrisin, I want you to take two teams of fifty men each and head west to Fal Moran. See what survivors there are, if any. Report back within the hour." Covai grabbed the man's coat as he turned way "And in the Creator's name watch your back. This is no ordinary Blight raid. We're dealing with something new here. If it looks human but won't respond...kill it."

 

Covai could feel the eyes of the two Attack Leaders on him, but he ignored them. "That does for you too Arath. I have a feeling this will be Dumani Wells all over again, and I don't mean fighting Warders.." Covai left the threat to hang in the air for only a moment before continuing, his eyes narrowing in anger. "You saw the wound on the Asha'man they brought back. There's no way an Asha'man would get that wound from a trolloc's blade."  Kirrisin nodded his understanding stiffly before saluting, barking his own orders for men to follow him to the Shienar capital.

 

Stretching his next from side to side, Covai nudges his horse around to face Arath better. "The same goes for you friend. Take two fifty man squads and and spread to the west and be back within the hour. I'll decided after Kirrisin makes his report what needs to be done.. In the mean time I'll have the men start making foritications here. I have no idea how far away this horde is, or how much of is it left, but I do NOT intended to be standing in the middle of the open when the arrive."

 

"But Covai, wouldn't the city..." Covai shook his head to cut Arath off. "No good. If they've already taken it once, it won't stand a second time. Besides, they already know where the weak points are, so we'd be at a disadvantage. This way we'll at least be able to count out a sneak attack from the rear." It was a hollow advantage to speak of and they both knew it. They were still exposed from all sides. If the hoarde had returned to the blight they could focus their defence. But if they had continued on, or were still in Fal Moran, they effort would be wasted. The best they could do was cover all sides and wait.

 

Returning the salute as Arath turned away, Covai nudged his horse back to the men that were left. "Get moving people! I want fortifications up and weapons ready. Trenches! Walls! Spikes! This is basic training all over again men. Any slackers will be put on the outside when the battle starts! Work in teams. Those of you not fortifing, get those supplies together. They rest of you keep an eye out. I want to hear to moment you spot ANYTHING. And make sure you're ready to move in an instant!"

 

Covai crossed his arms has a sat on his mount, his eyes scanning the distance near the capital. Part of his mind was urging him to send all the troops he had to the capital, that there was still time. But something inside him held back. If the city still stood, only one Asha'man was needed to bring the message. The fact that five came back at once, one of them heavily wounded could only mean one thing. The city was long gone, and they had been the final vanguard.

 

The Storm Leaders knuckles turned white has he gripped the reins in his hand. They were Asha'man, Guardians when all else was lost. Creator or not, Dark One or not, Covai swore they would not leave until every last shadowspawn responsible for this was dead at their feet. If it was too late to save the city, vengence would still be theirs.

 

OOC: Get ready guys. To help sort things out from our side, Attack Leader Kirrisin is the NPC who the Shadow get to kill. Storm Leader Covai the commander of the Black Tower's forces, and Attack Leader Arath's team will be backup. Its up to the Congress of Shadow to decide where they turn up from (Gates, marching over the horizion, party still in Fal Moran, etc) The outline is this: (Stolen from the CotS board  ;))

 

Phase 1: The Black Tower gets wind of the events in the borderlands, particularly along Arafel’s border. Knowing that this is exactly what the Dragon created them to do, they mobilize. Sending a force of Asha’man and Dedicated to aid the armies of the light, they claim early victories. The onslaught of the power tears through the ranks of shadowspawn and darkfriend alike, and it seems that this will be an easy victory for the light.

 

Phase 2: As the Asha’man destroy ranks of shadowspawn, the shadow quickly regroups, forming a team of dreadlords and dreadladies, with batteries from the lower ranks of their elite order. When they enter the fray, a stalemate ensues. Neither side being able to take any land from the other, it seems that the battle will come down to endurance over tactics.

 

Phase 3: Of course, that is all changed when the Chosen hear of the stalemate. The new alliance of Sammael and Semirhage comes to the aid of their minions. Quickly they take the strongest of both sexes, and form a circle in order to overwhelm the Asha’man, while other lords and ladies of dread group together to add support to the chosen that have come to their aid. The Blacktower is quickly pushed back, and travels to safety. The shadow reclaims the lands, while the Light nurses battle wounds, and worse, hurt pride.

 

If there are any quesions, post them on the OOC board and we'll answer then ASAP.)

 

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Calaun Ontrix Seyr felt... anxious as she surveyed the battlefield. This was her first time seeing actual combat, and even though she had orders not to take up a position in the frontlines she couldn't help but grip her axe as she watched the fleeing peasants, the few among them with any amount of bravery trying to hold back the Trolloc hordes that flooded them. All things considered, they were holding out longer than she had expected, making her feel a certain amount of respect for her adversaries.

 

Yet, respect alone did not win battles, From the corner of her eyes -- had she had them, of course -- she spotted several Gateways open up, men in black coats pouring out on a nearby field. For once, the Myrddraal didn't need to feel the itching between her shulder blades to know that these were channelers, and judging by their location on the battlefield not ones fighting for the Shadow. Raising her axe, she urged the Trollocs onwards. A pity she was not yet demeed fit for a mount of her own, but it was no use complaining over what was not, rather than focus on what was.

 

With the arrival of the Lightfool channelers however, it would have been inevitable that she would get a firsthand view of what the Dreadlords she had heard of in the Blight were capable of. Though dying in battle was an honorable death, she would very much prefer to leave the channelers to the channelers, though she herself would prefer a weapon over this One Power business any time. As she prepared herself to make a quick status report for when the Dreadlords would arrive, she decided to keep a close eye on the Asha'men, and leave the village to be mopped up by the rear guard. May the Shadow swallow this accursed itch!

 

 

Calaun Ontrix Seyr

Myrddraal

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In the push through the Gateways, Gale lost sight of Geirrin again. He, again, found himself one of the latter to slip through the Gateway. The sword strapped too him felt heavier than usual, oddly enough. He did his best to pay it no mind, having no real intention of drawing it. He'd been drilled hard in the One Power the sword a second thought in his training thus far. He knew what end to hold but talent ended there.

 

The first thing to hit, of course, was the smell. Gale scrunched up his nose for a moment and promptly put it out of mind. A sailor could deal with bad smells easily. Aside from this, there wasn't much to see. Ravens circled the sky a few miles away from them. Plumes of dark smoke littered the sky, darkening the horizon. It was a bleak setting and much chillier than at the Tower, Gale noted. A shiver ran through him at the change in temperature.

 

With no standing orders at first, Gale was content to search black coats and tanned faces for any familiar faces. He had yet to see Jas anywhere near nor Asha'man Alean. Perhaps they'd show their faces somewhere further down the line. Attack Leader Arath got pulled to the Storm Leader along with the other Attack Leader whose name Gale already forgot. The booming voice was hard to miss and drew him momentarily from his searching frenzy.

 

"There you do be," Gale said quietly as he slipped up beside Geirrin, "I did think I lost you and the battle do no even start yet." The smile on his face didn't touch his eyes. This was not a time for jokes but Gale could not help his tongue in the face of this evil. It had always been a way to relieve tension when anger or alochol didn't do the job.

 

Then Arath was choosing his men and Gale found himself not selected. This wasn't really a surprise, he had only brawling experience in tavern bars to back him up. His experience with the Power spanned only a few months. So, when the Storm Leader's command came up it was time to start on the trenches. And start he did.

 

The One Power filled him as much as he could allow it, having no reason to restrain himself or hold back (and when did they here at the Tower? Hold back was not a term often used.) The sickly sweet taint overwhelmed him like the thick foam of an unruly wave. Gale felt another cool shiver run down his spine and this time it had nothing to do with the weather. He pressed on, working with another Soldier in line only familiar by face. They started tunneling their way down several feet to begin on the fortifications while other men in black coats began on the rest.

 

With no concept of how long they had to work, Gale didn't see a point in wasting time. Thick weaves of Air started ripping up earth, hollowing out trenches four or so feet deep and thick enough for two men to nearly walk through side-by-side. The work wasn't wildly challenging yet that was preferred. Gale suspected he'd have to exert himself much further than his usual limits today. No sense getting all the wind pulled out of his sail now.

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Geirrin listened to the Storm Leader's words, he was eager to begin making fortifications.  At least it would be something to do to keep his mind off the gruesome field that was littered with corpses.  Black and grey smoke rose on the horizon adding to the already gloomy setting.

 

He had not noticed Gale's approach until he heard the familiar Illianer accent of his friend.  Geirrin nodded and smiled to the man but he still felt like voiding his stomach.  "I've gutted every fish imaginable Gale and nothing compares to this stench.  Forget gutting fish though Gale, I think we just abandoned a ship in perfect sailing condition and jumped head first into a school of Silverpike."  Geirrin took a deep breath to calm himself while trying to ignore the stench.  He tried to seem confident or at least like the horrific sights did not bother him.  "As the saying goes...When there's work to be done, you either haul nets or gut fish."  He smiled at Gale, well he tried at least.  He was unsure if it ever reached his face.

 

Geirrin was still holding the source afraid to let it go.  As soon as the Storm Leader was finished with his instructions, he and Gale got to work.  Gale began digging trenches so Geirrin dug out the side that would face the enemy lining them with earthen spike.  Gales trench would offer them protection from the onslaught while offering them a clear view of the battleground.  Geirrin's trench and spikes would make an obstacle to hinder the Shadowspawn in their efforts to reach them, if they ever reached that far.  Light send that they did not.  He and Gale had worked together before so it wasn't long before they had a protective barrier several spans wide in either direction.  Behind the trench, he and Gale made an earthen mound with more earthen spikes.  A second rank could fight from that position plus it would give them a place to fall back to if their first line of defense was overrun.  Every ten paces or so there were cutouts for them to fall back through.  If it came to that then they could seal it with earth as soon as the last of them were through.  If not they would have to defend those areas which would become funnels of death for the shadowspawn.

 

Geirrin scanned to either side.  Others were doing the same as he and Gale.  In a very short time they had an earthen fortress that seemed near impregnable.  Impregnable from conventional attacks though who was too say that would be all they would face today.  He had no idea what they were in for this day. 

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ooc this happen in shinear, the fortress being days off into the blight i doubt you'd feel the channeling all the way in there ;), use word of currier and make sure it is timed in such a way to make it realistic for those of you that are dreadlords when phase 2 come, or place your dreadlords in the sorounding area either hearing the howl and going to investigate, or again rescive word by currier. phase one is spawn and darkfriends, and basicaly seting the scene before arival of dreadlords, asumable the spawn and darkfriends do not know they are facing channelers when they rush in to chase of the army ;) so they would discover it first, those not close enough to feel the channeling and conect it to trouble, would then rescive words through fades or curriers from the human army as they realise they are in over their head. Also shadow wise remember the intell and the story for different sides are always different, so base your shadow rp on the shadow view not the info and view of the BT...thats their avaliable info and how they see it..."our" view and info is as the latest plotline update which you can read on the rp board or on our own boards. (the truth of course being probably somewhere in the middle as always ;)), and remember our Nae'blis is hiding under a 'nick' which is what you would know her as in all likelyhood.

 

Elmira sniffed her nose, she was up in shinear for buisnis only having delivered a sending in the place of a hurt man. The collections had been orgainsed underhand, and collected at her farm, when the leader had fell ill she had taken his place, leaving the guy at the farm with her kids and leading the chart train up herself through backroads. They had used oxen to pull the charts, traveling at night, it was risky but they had made it, the suplies had been delivered to a campment of darkfriends, and with empty wagons going back half the oxen had been driven over to an encampment of trollocs.

 

She did not trust the beings, and was happy the fades had been out of view, she had met those beings only a couple times in her life and they terrified her. She was about ready to retreat with the men of her company when the howl went through her every bone, she had never heard such a sound. It was obvious it was stiring up the encampment and she did not wait to ask, just spurred her horse around shouting to the men to follow her, she was not ending in a cookpot if she could help it, so they would get out of there now.

 

An hour later rounding the hill to the encampment for the soliders where she was to pick up the rest of the group, she found the camp in full activety, she looked around when someone janked her reins, she looked down to kick of whomever and saw a man "over there if your are ready to go", she looked questioning at him, "we just rescived word, there is an army coming in, we are to go back up the shadowspawn" and then before she could ask other horses was around her and she found her small group goaded into a larger company of horses, weapons was being passed around, and it was obvious no more questions or objections would be heard.

 

She was trapped, and she saw no way out, her thougths went to her children, she was not suposed to be here, not part of this, what if she didnt survive.

 

Elmira

DF (through time warp)

__________________________

 

M'bela scratched her head as she was reading the reports, all was well mostly in her region, with Sammael before having setled into old Shienars capitol, it had been natural for Semirhage to setle into Shol Arbela. However even in an alliance chosen never trusted eachother too much, so the dreadlords serving under them was evenly situated in a mix throughout the area, though it seemed the two was even more at peace after this new character had turned up in the fortress. M'bela looked out the window, Mistress of the Dark, it was clear the woman was Nae'blis, and as such one of the chosen, but whom she didnt know. Semirhage had not been willing to disclose the info either, and the woman must be using some type of weave masking her aperance cause the few looks M'bela caugth of her she didnt recognise her, either that or she was reborn but who, and even more so who was Cyndane, she and Osan'gar was from rumors among the Mae'shadar and Elite dreadlords what spent more time around the high personalities, behaving like lapdogs of the new leaderess.

 

It was a fiddle, she knew what the name ment, and it was likely that one at least was reborn, rumors had it also while stronger then dreadlords still, not very strong compared to some chosen. She didnt like the unsertainty, at least she had a good view from her house up in the mountainside. She was not easy with the fact having dreadlords around not under her servance or that of her mistress, not even that of Sammael, but the orders was clear, aparently they were all on one team now, it was easily spoken words from their leader, but hundred, nay thousands of year old traditions of factions within the shadow didnt die over night. Mayhaps some of the newer generations would fall for that more easily, but she had been around more then a couple centuries herself, and old habits died hard, even after serving with Semirhage it had been an adustment serving closely with others that was sworn not directly to herself and have to trust them to some extent.

 

Niamh Pass, she was situated close to it, it was a just in case situation, they did not want anyone falling out of it and endanger either Fal Moran or Fal Dara. The upside was it worked well, she could organise transport of resources easily enough from the wetlands through her daugther who lived well a days ride out of Tar Valon on a lone farm in the midle of woods, from collection there they could transport things in along the Kinslayer's Dagger and up along the Spine to her areas. It was the perfect scheme, even more so as the farm was owned by a light lover of such position no one would contemplate suspecting things going on there as long they were carefull, because the owner herself seldom visited the farm.

 

There was a knock on the door, "What?" her voice was sharp, she was not in the mood for sillyness, a servant entered and handed her a report, she frowned, some of her outlaying forces was engaged in battle near Fal Moran. "Where is the messenger," the door was opened and someone tread in "will you explain to me how a bloody army managed to get all the way to Fal Moran without us hearing of this before? and why this report is obviously hours old" she curled up the paper and tossed it in the face of the currier. She frowned as she listened to his words, something was amiss when he didnt know, a fade could easily have delivered news to them faster, why word been sent through human curriers. Looking to the servance she ordered the her to find a dreadlord, as the man arived she told him to return with the curier through faster means and find out what was going on and if further assistance was needed from their forces, and to be quick about it.

 

"Bloody mess" she wandered over to the map on the wall, where had they goten through, which area had failed, Looking on the pins she concluded it had to be one in yellow marking a newly raised elite dreadlords leadership, one of those sworn to neither of the guardians. Guardians, pah she had seen the twitch in Semirhages eye corner upon being informed, her Mistress had not liked the new title it was for sure, Guardians of the Gate, she wondered if the cities would be renamed in time as well. Strolling over to the window she looked out to the building place, they had torn down some houses in the way and now was building a new bigger house in the mountainside beside this one, by spring she hoped to move into more acomendating facilities, and it kept the lightfools bussy. There still was rebelions of course in her area, but in other towns, she had soon cleared out the filt of this one, and made sure the ones kept around knew better then to try object. Really it had been easy, with the leadership taking up residence here there was a strong presence of highly compitent persons and beings prescent. Still, she looked back down on the reports in her hand, she would be more pleased when her whole area of responsibility had stilled and accepted their new fate. It was exected of her to be one of the first to have complete quiet and calm.

 

M'bela wa Askari

Mae'Shadar

Dreamwalker

Servant of Semi.

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The trenches went quickly enough with the Soldiers hard at work on them. Falling back in line with Geirrin after the first trench had been dug, Gale paid attention to the sharp spikes driven up by the man. He watched it twice and started copying the weave, quickly developing a sense of it either out of necessity or simplicity. It didn't take long for them to have rather decent fortifications against ground troops created.

 

Still, recalling how easily he'd been bested in every shielding excersize... Well, he put it out of mind. These were much stronger and from what they'd heard so far (at least what he'd heard) there were no channelers among the ranks they were facing. So these should hold well. Knowing what he did of attack weaves and assuming the Asha'man knew much more, Gale assumed this battle should be over long before the Shadowspawn could draw near.

 

"Fortune prick me if they do no find trouble getting to us," Gale said while they were building up pockets of earth to fall back in should they be overrun. Bottlenecking was a smart tactic, he knew, though he'd hardly seen it used on a grand scale. Air sheilds would have to make up the rest of their defenses if arrows should come. There was no other way around it, truthfully. Gale ran his hand over the near unfamiliar handle of his sword, not relishing the thought of brandishing the silver blade.

 

"If we do see a gathering of Ogier that do be mistook for trollocs, I swear on my aged mother I do be ready to beat the fool that do carry the message here." Gale had not seen the body of the man that had come from the Borderlands. While there were plenty of midlanders that might mistake an Ogier for a trolloc, Gale suspected the Borderlanders would know the difference if they fought the mythical creatures on a daily basis. The dark mood of their current setting almost forced them to lighten the load a bit, however. Still, no smile floated above the Illianer's beard as he looked out over the horizon, unsure of what lay ahead of them.

 

Saidin was a thing alive inside of him, filled half with the Power and half with the oily taint it seemed. He could feel it all around him as if the entire valley were channeling. He sensed the ability in Geirrin, the man holding more than Gale himself could. And there were others, some stronger and some weaker, that walked among them. It was almost like being at the Black Tower and yet Gale felt so... open. So unprotected and exposed here. It wasn't long ago that men like him were brought to the Tower to be gentled and here they were about to fight for the Dragon Reborn and help hold the world against the Shadow.

 

These were different times. Gale found himself he had been born under better circumstances. Or just born in a bottle of Andoran wine. The Tairen stuff made people do funny things.

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Rebecca had no couriers, no messengers or spies that were scouring the lands for reports to send back to her. She believed they formed a weakness of their own, possible weak points that would point at her at the right pressure. No, her specialty over time was gathering information through... other means. Thus, when the Fortress started to stir as a number of messengers all seemed to arrive at once, it didn't take a lot of effort on her behalf to realise that something big was going on. One of the servants passed her with a tray, and exchanged a piece of parchment with her so fast it would be easily missed even had someone been looking directly at them. She had trained her own spies well.

 

Stepping into her room, she quickly read the coded message, and smiled at the chance to test, truly test the abilities she had honed for so long. A Gateway appeared in her room, the weave inverted so not even her female kin would sense it, and the few seconds it took her to grab a dark cloak and slip into some wooden Tairen clogs to hide both her form and her height, snow started blowing into her room. She stepped through, hood shadowing her face, ad the portal closed behind her as soundlessly as it had appeared.

 

Once there, she surveyed the battlefield, and noticed a Myrddraal standing not too far away from her. Strange creatures, though their abilities certainly had good uses. Good sight was one of them, meaning the one in front of her shoud do just fine to give her a report. Pointing at the Myrddraal, voice altered through an inverted weave, she spoke up.

 

- "You! Give me a report, now!"

 

 

Rebecca

Dreadlady for the day

 


 

"You! Give me a report, now!"

 

Calaun looked up, much to her surprise noticing a human standing there. She hadn't heard her arrive, and assumed from the way the woman had spoken to her that she was one of the Dreadlords she had been expecting. No itch had come off of her though, leaving the Myrddraal to wonder whether she had been stealthy, or had simply found a way to avoid her senses. She didn't know which of the two she actually preferred. Kneeling, she proceeded to give her report.

 

- "The village has mostly fallen, Dreadlord, the last remnants of resistance are being dealt with. I sensed many channelers on the hill on the far side however, and i counted several hundred before the earth rose up to hide them from my view."

 

The silence that followed was an uncomfortable one, not in the least by the increasing itch she was feeling, caused by so many people channeling saidin within visual range of where she stood. Th human in front of her seemed to think on the information that was given however, contemplating the options.

 

"Very well. You are to take a Fist and attack them, i shall leave the how up to you. Success will be rewarded, to fail means death. Understood? Then go."

 

- "As you command, Dreadlord."

 

etting up, she looked around, spotting a Fist of Trollocs from her own Ahf'frait tribe not too far away. They were assigned to be reserves, and due to their tribes very nature they were starting to become restless. Raising her massive axe, the Myrddraal shouted her orders.

 

- "Ahf'frait, to me!"

 

Eager for a reason to join the fray, the Trollocs gathered around Calaun swiftly. There would be no need to bond them to her, they were eager enough as it was. On the field, the main force started advancing towards the Asha'men, but she took her Fist along a different route, into the forest. Too many channelers on one spot made her nervous, and she would focus instead on circling around the entire battlefield to attack the enemy in the rear. It would be taking them a while until they'd find battle, but properly done there would be much glory to be had for the Ahf'frait this day...

 

 

Calaun Ontrix Seyr

Myrddraal and Fist Leader

 


 

Martyn was not enjoying himself. He was watching the Trolloc army like a hawk, trying to read their tactics from how their troops were positioned. Though the memories were rusty, he tried to recall every possible Shadowspawn tactic he was familiar with, comparing them to what he saw and praying they hadn't changed much over the past fifty years. As it was now, trenches were being dug to form a defensive line, and te Trolloc horde before them was reforming their ranks to face the new threat that appeared: Them.

 

Should Arath ask for it, he would give all the information available to him, share every scrap of experience his memories held. In the tension of the moment, his attention wasn't on saidin, and had he bothered enough to notice he would have realised it would be the first time since he had started sharing the Void with the strange light that he simply allowed it to be there. There were more important things to worry about than his own discomfort. Looking around, he shouted a couple of defensive pointers to a couple of Asha'men standing a ways off, and got an odd stare in return, his block being known in the Black Tower. He didn't take note of it though, keeping an ear open for signs on where he could be of use.

 

 

Martyn Stonebridge

Soldier rank Asha'man

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Arath murmured incomprehensibly to himself as he led his troops to the west through another series of gateways.  He didn't like this.  Not at all.  He had hoped that the trolloc armies had only begun their attack.  Now he realized that the recruiting party must have come from the southern parts of Shienar.  They were probably far too late.  He couldn't help but feel that this mission would turn into an effort to save whatever survivors remained.

 

Nudging his horse forward, Arath and his group entered what remained of a small town.  So close to the capital, they hadn't had much in the way of defenses, assuming that they could reach the safety of the walls well before any enemy was upon them.  It was hard to tell if anyone had made it out.  A blanket of snow covered everything, including the tracks of those who had last been here. 

 

A loud squawk to his left drew Arath's attention.  A raven was perched upon something which lay mostly buried in the snow, glaring at him indignantly.  He moved his horse closer to the foul bird, expecting it to dart away.  Instead it held its ground and squawked again as though challenging him.  It shifted it's black feathered body a hair as though settling in for a staredown, allowing Arath to see what it was perched upon.  A child.  A young girl, no more than five or six years old.  And it looked as though he had interrupted the raven's meal.  With a snarl, he wove spirit and fire at the evil bird.  It seemed to realize what was about to happen to it and flapped its wings frantically for a second before exploding in a small cloud of blood and feathers.

 

Revolted, Arath turned away and led his men onward.  His gaze kept returning to Fal Moran, only a short distance away.  He could see the walls and western gates, and could vaguely make out the tops of buildings beyond them.  Something didn't seem right about it.  He puzzled at it for a while before moving on, knowing that something important was eluding him.

 

It wasn't much longer before the first shouts and sound of battle reached him.  A bestial roar and the clash of metal drew him like a fly to honey.  Shouting commands to his men he raced through the remains of the nameless town and found the cause of the disturbance.

 

It was over by the time he reached it.  A pair of trollocs lay dead in the street, one with its throat slashed open, one with a smoldering hole right through its head.  One of the dedicated clutched at a bloody gash in his arm.  A pair of Asha'man stood at his side, one cleaning blood from his sword, the other already tending to the dedicated's wound. 

 

"We saw something moving in the trees behind that building there," said the one cleaning his sword as Arath reined in.  "Jumped out at us when we stepped closer to have a look."

 

Arath nodded.  "Next time, blow it up first, then ask questions later.  I don't think we're going to find any survivors here."  Turning away, his gaze fell on the city in the distance once more.  What was it that was so wrong about it? 

 

There were a few more incidents with shadowspawn afterward, where his forces stumbled upon trollocs who were attempting to spy on them.  Fortunately, there were no injuries among his men, though many of them looked rather ill upon seeing their first trolloc.  Messengers arrived from the groups he had sent north and south, reporting more of the same.  Telling the messengers to give the order to return, Arath called in his own group.  As they gathered to him, he wove spirit, opening the silvery blue gateway that would lead him back to the main group.  Giving one last look at the distant city walls, Arath hurried his men back through the gateway, eager suddenly to be back to the relative safety of numbers.

 

OOC:  I'll try to post again later tonight.  With something much more fun and interesting :D  :o

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Geirrin looked up taking a momentary respite from his labors.  The strong wind still flowed through the corpse ridden field in front of them carrying the heavy stench of smoke, of battle, of death.  The acrid coppery metallic stench of Shadowspawn blood mixed with the scent of burnt flesh and Light knows what else it contained.  Geirrin toyed with the idea of releasing saidin, that stench combined with the normal ill effects of the taint threatened to overcome him.  It was difficult enough forcing saidin to do as you wished without feeling the need to void the contents of your stomach. 

 

Gale's voice, thick with the accents of Illian snapped him out of his thoughts "Fortune prick me if they do no find trouble getting to us," Would they? He thought to himself.  He had never seen a Trolloc or Lurk in his life aside from artists renditions of them.  He had no idea what they were capable of but their defenses did seem insurmountable.  "Lets hope they don't get this close Gale." He said trying to manage a smile for his friend. 

 

Light what did he know about war? Absolutely nothing he thought.  Before he came to the Black Tower he had not sparred a thought for war.  Fishermen from a small waterfront community simply did not think on it.  Now though, now was a different matter.  He had been taught the weaves.  Dozens of weaves that had one singular purpose, destruction.  He preferred those weaves that allowed him to create things though they would be of little use today except for those he used now.

 

"If we do see a gathering of Ogier that do be mistook for trollocs, I swear on my aged mother I do be ready to beat the fool that do carry the message here."  He thought on Gale's words for a moment.  "Let's just hope there are no mistakes today Gale.  No," He shook his head, I'm no bloody hero!  "I would rather it were all a mistake.  I'd like it very much if we just created gateways and went home."  He sighed looking off in the distance.  "I'm thinking we'll not be that lucky today."  He fixed Gale with a hard stare trying to steel his nerves.  "Alls I know is that anything coming towards us that is not wearing a Black Coat is the enemy, at least to me they are.  They will get the nastiest weaves that I can make.  I recommend you do the same!"

 

Geirrin looked around at the fortifications a slight frown forming on his face.  He studied them trying to determine their worth, much like he would have when trying to determine if a ship was seaworthy or not.  Light send that it was enough. 

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Gale was much more comfortable with the tasteless jokes and dark humor than with the dark thoughts trying to creep into his mind now. He held saidin tightly, struggling with control. The revolting smell of death and destruction came all the stronger with the Power inside him and the taint made nausea leap to all new heights. Gale had never been in a fight this grand - Light, a fight this big could only be called a battle. Gale had no experience with battles.

 

Yet, who here did? Even with the silver sword pin adorning Geirrin's collar, the man seemed to know as much of war as Gale himself. The seriousness of Geirrin's words hit him and Gale could only nod gravely. The tension in his shoulders seemed unbearable. Light, but he wanted this to be over already.

 

"They will get the nastiest weaves that I can make. I recommend you do the same!" Geirrin finished.

 

"That I do promise," Gale agreed and clasped the man on the shoulder. Gale didn't want to see these things any closer than he had to. "You just do no go disappearing again. We do have a ship to finish and I do plan to see it done." He squeezed the man's shoulder and let his hand fall. The Light send he didn't have to bury any friends today. Gale preferred just burying the enemies.

 

Then again, with the weaves he intended to use, there wouldn't be much left to bury.

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"That I do promise," Gale agreed and clasped him on the shoulder.  "You just do no go disappearing again. We do have a ship to finish and I do plan to see it done." Gale squeezed his shoulder then let his hand fall.

 

"That we do my friend, that we do.  Then we have to find a way to get her to the river and down to the Sea of Storms.  Perhaps we will take her out and find the oil shoals though we may have to make a larger ship.  We do that, find the oil shoals I mean and we'll be rich.  Imagine that!"  He said it with all the youthful excitement he possessed overflowing in his voice.  For a moment he had completely forgot what they were about.  For just a brief moment the killing field and the horrible stench were gone replaced by happier visions. 

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Calaun looked around at the troops she had managed to gather. Some of the Trollocs had muttered about wanting to do some killing, and she had sent them into the village at a group of three or four men. She knew they could channel, she had sensed it from there, but she had remained hidden while allowing the Trollocs she led to see the outcome of the battle. Muffled shouts were heard as the humans almost literally blew the Trolocs opposing her leadership away like rags, and she then turned to the rest of her Fist. Though she didn't say anything, no words were needed. There was no need even to use her fear gaze, the example she had shown them was more than enough to show that survival depended on their ability to do as she told.

 

After this silent exchange between general and soldiers to confirm her authority, she turned around again, leading them through a deeper part of the forest. There was no resistance to her leadership now, as long as she made sure there would be a suitable reward for them lying in wait at the other hand. A suitable reward in spilt human blood, that was, and if that happened to be te blood of those that could channel even better.

 

 

Calaun Ontrix Seyr

Tactical Myrddraal

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Looking around at the defenses that had sprung up since he had left, Arath coudln't help but be impressed at the speed which with the Asha'man worked.  He idly wondered why nothing was ever built so quickly back at the Farm.  He wound his way through the spikes and clustered Asha'man as he rode toward Covai, who was busy overseeing the final touches on the defenses.

 

Covai saw him approach and with a last shouted command turned toward him.  Arath shook his head as he approached.  "I don't like this.  They know we're here.  And they can't be too far away.  A fade must have seen us by now and relayed a message.  We ran into maybe a dozen pairs of trollocs, scouting us out.  We probably missed some of the smarter ones."  He quickly rehearsed what had happened on his brief foray to the west, then paused for a moment and stared out to the west again.  "There's something about the city that makes me nervous.  It almost seems like there isn't enough damage done to it.  Has Kirrisin returned yet?"

 

Covai didn't have time to respond to the question before the awful sound of a trolloc horn rent the air.  As one, their gaze swung to the north, to the source of the sound.  Cresting a nearby hill came a swarm of shadowspawn.  Trollocs with their hideous, bestial faces and cruel, massive weapons were quickly crossing the distance to the Asha'man's defenses.  Spurring their horses forward, the battle leaders yelled commands to the Asha'man.  "Keep them at a distance!"  "Fire and riven earth!" 

 

Leaving the front line to the Storm Leader, Arath turned off to the west and rejoined his own squad, just as the first volley of fireballs left the grim faced channelers.  It looked as though this wave was a relatively small one, only a few fists of trollocs, but doubtless it would be the first of many.

 

OOC:  Lets get this rolling.  Start blowing up shadowspawn!  And make it look easy!

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ooc: FINALLY! I've been waiting for Gale to see these little guys and get scared. Haha.

 

Gale found it pretty easy to imagine himself rich. It was a thought often entertained when his life were simpler. He supposed that was just the way of it with the common folk. He opened his mouth to say something, perhaps about what he was going to do with his cut, when the Attack Leader showed his face again. With the Power in him, Gale could hear and see things much more clearer than without.

 

Still, Gale wasn't about to eavesdrop. Okay, he was. And he listened to what had to be said seeing as Covai was not far off from where Gale and Geirrin stood. So there were trollocs. Gale felt something outside of the Void, something discomforting, something nerve wracking. He had a feeling he was in trouble. The horn sounded and Gale felt himself jump, at least in his own head. Gale had a strong stomach, years on a ship helped in some areas, but nothing could have prepared him for what started over the hill.

 

From this distance, with the Power at least, he could make out the mis-shapen human features on those hybrid bodies. The all-too-human eyes glaring over beaks or snouts or tusks. They stood about the height of an Ogier, hard to judge at the moment, but the resemblance ended with the broad shoulders. The wicked weapons they carried sent a shudder through Gale and he felt himself tug at the black collar of his coat as if it were too tight. They moved fast, as one might expect, and Gale felt himself take a step backward as if they were upon them. He almost forgot he held the Power.

 

"Fortune prick me, they do be ugly," Gale muttered as he came back to himself. "Now we do see if these weaves do bloody well." He was not the first to channel at the orders to come from above. Light, he wanted to turn tail and run. But no one else was running and this is what they had been trained to do. With Geirrin at his side he felt a little at ease.

 

Gale's weaves were no where near impressive in comparison to the Dedicated and Asha'man throwing fire and erupting earth as if it were child's play. Still, what he wove killed as easily as any other weave if not as many. Fire and Earth wove so and so made patches of earth erupt with loud explosions, tearing through half human half beast bodies almost laughably easy. He threw Fire with hints of Air, tossing small balls of flame at the oncoming bodies. Where his strikes landed, shoulders or chests exploded. Sometimes he'd get lucky and nail two or three with one blast before the explosion dissipated.

 

At this rate, nothing was going to make it to the barricades they'd taken so long to put up.

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Martyn looked at the charging Trollocs, for a moment trying to stave off memories of fifty years ago. Unconsciously, he had clenched his fist as the events from the Fall of Malkier replayed in his head, threatening to sweep him away. A thud brought him back to his senses, and he noticed a torn off Trolloc head had hit him in the chest, splattering blood on his robes. As he retreated into the Void, he could smell the fetid blood, notice every detail of that bestial face, and the fist tightened into a white-knuckled grip.

 

- "No more."

 

He looked up, and for a moment all the fire on the battlefield paled in comparison to the intensity of his glare. Trolloc shapes, Myrddraal shapes, all charging in and being destroyed by the One Power. All while he was standing here idle. Next to him, a black cloaked figure fell, struck by a hastily fired Trolloc arrow, and even though he didn't look his mind still registered it.

 

- "No more!"

 

Saidin beckoned, and for the first time he reached out for it, the Taint fueling his hatred to new heights. It was a weapon he had within reach, and if he needed to use it as a mace to swing at the Shadowspawn, so be it! Shienar would not suffer Malkier's fate! For Malkier!

 

- "NO MORE!!!"

 

And, for the first time in fifty years, he channeled. He had seen the flows as the Asha'men had trained, and his body remembered the rest, the Void protecting him from the burning rage he knew was outside it. Earth folded in on itself in front of him, slicing through Trolloc feet and legs, making them fall into this saidin-fueled meat grinder. He swung saidin like a mace, and the blow of air launched Trollocs and Myrddraal alike as far back as the forest edge. He channeled, and the ground exploded as Trollocs ran over it, sending chunks raining down on the area.

 

He was attacking relentlessly now, handling several weaves at once and showing no sign of slowing down anytime soon. They would die. For Masura, for Jerinia, and for everyone he had known and loved, they would all die!

 

 

Martyn

Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war..

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The foul black half human half beast shapes seemed to fill the horizon.  All thoughts of sailing the Sea of Storms vanished.  On the edge of the void he could feel his knees shaking.  His body shivered and it had nothing to do with the could climate of the Borderlands.

 

Geirrin felt like he was stuck in place.  At that moment he couldn't have moved a step had his life depended upon it.  Boar snouts, Goat horns, Eagle beaks, and a variety of animal parts mixed with human ones.  Some charged forward on booted feat, others on hooves or paws.  Light the pictures or descriptions he had seen or heard did not compare.

 

If not for holding onto Saidin he would have missed his friend's words.  "Fortune prick me, they do be ugly,"  "Now we do see if these weaves do bloody well."  That Illianer accent woke him from the trance.  He could hear the Storm Leaders commands and see the veterans following them with alacrity.  He still felt as if he could not move or act.

 

Geirrin saw fireballs streaking from their ranks to rip holes in the black shapes yet still they came.  Walls of flame, Riven Earth , and a few other weaves all tearing into the Trollocs.  Gerrin saw Gale join in and suddenly it hit him.  He had to act, he could wait no longer.  Just like on a ship when you counted on your mates to do their jobs, right now there were people counting on him.  He pushed through the feeling to turn and run, through the feeling that told him to hide.

 

Geirrin formed the weave, flows of fire and air woven together.  He swung his arm forward hurling the fireball at the ranks of Trollocs.  He had another on its way before the other one struck.  He heard himself laughing on the edge of the void.  Just like when he was on the bow of the ship sailing into a storm.  Like when he was sailing dangerously close to a reef on a lee shore.  He laughed like he was mad but it was not madness that made him laugh.  It was the adrenaline surging through him that made him do it.  Something he had always done as a child.

 

As fast as he could, Geirrin wove Fireballs alternating them with Riven Earth.  Riven Earth, flows of Earth and Fire as large as he could make directed into the ground in front of the Trollocs showering them with rocks, dirt and fire.  The acrid, fetid stench wafted to his nose to join the filth of the taint making him want to vomit yet he went on.  As many Trollocs as they killed it seemed as though there were two or three to replace them. 

 

 

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Light, but they were still coming. Gale would have thought this onslaught would have at least slowed the beasts. How could there be more than five of these cursed things left alive anyway? He continued channeling, weaving death as fast as he knew how. It was not easy to handle more than one weave at a time but he pushed himself for more. He had to. They were getting closer and he had no intention of dying.

 

It was the mad laughter at his side that made him feel, oddly, at ease. Gale glanced sideways at the Dedicated beside him, cocking a wide eyebrow in a question he didn't have the time to ask. Before he lost concentration completely, Gale put his eyes back to the fight. Where they winning? Light, but it seemed so. While more and more trollocs kept coming, Gale could see some patches growing in their line. Where a particularly large explosion hit, only a handful of trollocs rose to take the place of the fallen.

 

The ground shook from so many of the black coated men willing it to erupt. Gale felt the shock waves through his feet keenly, as if he were but a few feet from the massive explosions. He knew it was only through peer pressure that he stayed. You didn't abandon ship when there was hope left that you could put out the fire. Still, he knew the trembling in his legs wasn't all from the earth's rumblings. Then he saw the first of the eyeless.

 

Or, perhaps, it was better to say that it saw him. And Gale froze. He wasn't sure what it was at first that sent fear so thickly through him. Light, he was afraid, but this had the void absolutely trembling - threatening to crack. He held tight to saidin the taint threatening to overwhelm him, the Power threatening to destroy him. But his eyes rolled to the face without any, that black cloak only moving from the efforts of the wielder. The fade came forward, seeming to single him out. And it was all Gale could do not to collapse there, scarcely able to breathe. Every part of him trembled and the Void itself threatened to crack at any second.

 

A blast smashed up beneath the eyeless, sending the shadowspawn kicking and screaming to an eventual death. Gale sucked in a ragged breath. Another. But he didn't have time to sit and lick his wounds, comfort himself from what he'd just faced. He had to get back into the fight. For the Light. For the Dragon.

 

Light, for himself. Gale had no intention of dying here. So he wove death as fast as he could and prayed to the Creator that they'd all get through this.

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ooc i'll keep using village then as someone said that, and presume we're in a village somewhere to the west of the fal moran city in acordance to covais post about where to go scout out the area (also since he said to not bother with the city for reasons tactical, and 2 while the bt migth not ic know it there is no way this rp could pass acording to plan if they did go into the city full scale).

 

Aslan was stunned when he saw the first trolloc, he had heard some of them men to the edges had seen and killed some hiding and scouting on them from the trees, and then they entered the village and he had still found himself in such position in the group as to not really see anything untill they faned out more. It wasnt till someone infront of him had the beast blow up in fire that he shook out of it, quickly he swallowed the gale of the taint as he realised he had lost hold of the source in the shock, and opened himself up to saidin.

 

This was nothing like what he had been told about home in Mayene when growing up, focusing he wove strands of air quickly, and shaped the weave into that of crushing sending it off towards another beast he saw, from then on he lost himself in weaving, keeping to that one weave for as long as it worked, it was simple enough and served his usage, not in the least he knew nothing would be rising from it.

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Ikki watched dark, inhuman shapes fill the horizon and began to grow. They were the most hideous things he had ever seen. Fireballs leaped from the ranks as he realized that he had been throwing up at the sight. He just kept feeling worse. They got much closer and his defensive instincts kicked in. Red hot lava burst from the ground, then dozens of lightning bolts shot down from the sky, then the ground shook and cracked with shards of rock shooting up. A Trolloc flew into the sky from a blast from another Dedicated and was set to land on his area. He wove a shield of Air and Fire above him and his nearby companions, then the beast landed on it with a thwap, then burned up.

 

Fear and adrenaline coursed through his veins as more and more of the atrocities came in waves that were quickly decimated by Earth and Fire and many other things. The stench of burning flesh permeated the air and his saidin enhanced nose causing Ikki to take a few more breaks to vomit. It was almost as bad as the feel of the Taint. He just kept on weaving the best he could, not knowing when the onslaught would end.

 

 

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