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DRAGONMOUNT

A WHEEL OF TIME COMMUNITY

Licking our wounds (Attn: All Sheinar Peoples)


Covai Seriba
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OOC: This just a copy of the end of my borlands post. Post everything here after you've made it back through the gateway. Anybody who wasn't present at the battle in Sheinar, grab some bandages and come help! :P

 

IC: I must be more tired than I thought... Covai mused as he was carried towards the gateway. He must have mentally blanked out for a moment, because he couldn't even remember the two men picking him up under each arm and carrying back towards the gateway. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, the familiar smell of the tower grounds brought him back to his senses just in time to see the final gateway close.

 

Finding the strength to stand, the Storm Leader of the Black Tower surveyed the damage the tower had recived. Almost a quarter of their men dead, and the rest exhausted. Their first battle should not have been like this. He hated to admit it, but they had suffered a resounding defeat. Grabbing a fresh Dedicated by the collar as he passed, Covai didn't even bother trying to hide his anger. "Get the medics now. Drag along every man you can find who can use healing weaves and get them here too. Then go get that damn Illianer and bring him to my quarters."

 

The man's confusion at the last order really made Covai angry. "Get the M'hael and tell him to come to my Quarters!!" Leaving the man to his duties, Covai managed to find his way over to Arath. The two of them waited for a few mintues, watching to make sure the men were being tended to. Covai had never though he'd see the day, but even the civilians had turned out in force to help. Sisters, brothers, sons, daughts, wives and lovers. It had been years since Covai had felt such pain as he did watching them search for those who had not returned.

 

Covai didn't have the strength, or the cruelty to push the pain aside. To do would only be an insult to the men who had died under his command this day. It was all he could manage to keep a straight face infront of the people who had lost loved ones this day. As soon as everyone had been taken care of, Covai fully intended on getting reaquainted with an old bottle of wiskey, and reaquainted Brent's face with his fist. Truth be told, he still wasn't sure which would happen first.

 

 

OOC: Go where you like with this people. Its good time to start reflecting on what was for most of you, your first battle. Arath and I will carry on the main storyline for the RPs in another thread, but feel free to come talk to us before we head off :P

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Ikki was one of the first to close his Gateway behind him. Thank the Light, he got out of there! Those dreadlords were starting to put the pressure on. His knees still felt shaky and his stomach queasy. His first taste of battle. It was a horrible experience. He hated that he had to harm, not Heal. On the bright side, he was suddenly very capable of the Healing he so badly wanted to do.

 

He was suddenly jerked away by another Dedicated. "The Storm Leader orders all the medics and other healers to get busy." Ikki nodded and trotted over to where the injured were being congregated. He knelt down to where the closest one was and quickly delved him. It was a pretty bad case, but he could manage. he was sure of it. He had just began to weave when an Asha'man yelled at him. "Hey! Let someone else handle him. He's too wounded for you." Ikki shook his head. "No, I've got it covered." The Asha'man was about to yell again, but then saw the wounds of the man knitting together and appearing as new. He nodded and gave a "Carry on, Dedicated." then went to administer Healing to a Soldier with an arrow in his shoulder.

 

Ikki went about the mass of injured men, Healing all he could. There were a few he couldn't handle. Myrdrall blade wounds were very tricky to Heal properly, and he was not gifted with the skill to perform that Healing. Suddenly, he felt very sore, but ignored it. The Asha'man near him suddenly approached him. "Dedicated, you're bleeding across your ribs." Ikki looked down and he was indeed bleeding on his left side. There was a small cut in his coat and a long, thin slice diagonally from his second rib to his shoulder. Cold rushed through him as the other Asha'man Healed him. He felt much more tired now, and rather hungry, but not enough to prevent him from his duty. He knelt beside a Soldier with a mace wound on his leg and began to Heal.

 

Ikkiliad sur Paendrag

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Despite Gale's protests to the following, he was one of the first of the men through the Gateway. Not that he didn't want to leave, exactly, but that he didn't want to leave while there were still wounded. Seeing as he had taken no grave injuries, a few scrapes and bruises hardly qualified him for Healing, he knew he could still help pull men free of the horrors of battle.

 

So he grabbed the second arm of a wounded Dedicated and hoisted the man up a little higher, helping to clear him through the Gateway and back to the Farm. "Healers!" He shouted with a few others though he really needn't bother. The Black Tower was many things but lazy and stupid it was not. The men knew their tasks and were there as quickly as the Gateways had opened. Gale helped lower the man down, out of the way of the oncoming foot traffic.

 

Then he hustled to the Gateway to help grab another wounded man, doing much the same. In this way he worked while the Asha'man poured their way back from battle. And all the while he searched for Geirrin. Granted, the man should be safe. Despite being from Tear, he was no fool. He'd hold the Gateway and make it out safely. None of this revenge business. Now wasn't the time.

 

That time would come, though.

 

That do no be now, Gale thought to himself. He still held strong to the Void, but saidin had long since left him. He was too weak to even think about seizing the Power and he had no skill with Healing. Not yet, at least, if he ever would. A few of the wounded were carried on stretchers made with the Power but a great many more of the Dedicated and Soldiers were as tired as he. He just hoped he didn't get yelled at for not using the Power on most of these tasks, pulling open coats and tying off wounds as best he could. It was not pretty work and Gale had little in experience. But it wasn't hard, for most of it, making these men safe enough that they could wait an extra moment or two for the Healers to arrive.

 

So Gale had his first taste for battle. It tasted of ash and death. Gale was glad to have it done.

 

For now, at least, the Light send it was done.

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Geirrin slumped on his knees not more than a pace from where his gateway had been.  He had held it until he was ordered to let it go.  He felt as though he was too exhausted to lift his head let alone do anything else.  Saidin was still there, he could sense it though he could not have embraced it for all the gold in the world.

 

Someone inquired if he was injured, he could not make a sound or lift his head so he simply shook his head.  The slightest movement from side to side to indicate that he was not injured.  He was barely aware of the person moving on as the days events played out in his head.  Gale had to be well, he must have made it back to the farm for only a few Asha'man had remained on the battlefield when Geirrin let his gateway wink out.  Well those few Asha'man and the dead.  He would not believe that Gale was dead.  The Illianer was well when Geirrin and the other dedicated who were capable of making gateways were ordered to make gateways back to the Black Tower.

 

Geirrin had enough of battle, even though it was his first it was enough.  Until now wielding Saidin had been fun and exhilerating yet now it was different.  He felt a great weight on his shoulders, one that he did not want to bear yet it was too late for turning back now.  You did not simply walk away from the Black Tower.

 


 

Valeran sat up wincing as his hand went to the bandage on his head.  He saw Storm Leader Covai barking orders, he respected the man.  They had just been soundly defeated and the Storm Leader seemed to seethe with anger as a result.  The Storm Leader seemed tough as nails and he had heard murmurs of his actions at the end of the battle.  He had covered their retreat and had to be half carried from the field. 

 

Valeran had known defeat, sometimes the cards were just not in your favor.  You had to take the bad with the good.  Still nothing made it easier to stomach.  Unless you had been a leader you could not imagine the feeling of having deaths laid at your feet, feeling as if you could have made a decision that could have changed events.  The sad fact is that there were always casualties.  Decide one way and certain people died, decide another and it was just a different set of people.  There was not much to do about it though friends, family, lovers, and acquaintances would all lay the blame at his feet. 

 

On top of all of that the soldiers, dedicated, and Asha'man would be looking to him for reassurance.  The Storm Leader had to appear confident.  He could not waver or else the Black Tower would be broken.  The sense of defeat would pass in time.  They had a job to do, the Shadow had to be defeated.  The fate of the world was at stake. 

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Sereth found himself in just another mess. Chaos surrounded the traveling grounds, medics rushing around, treating the injured. One looked at the arrow wound in his arm, strain obvious around his young eyes. He can't have to shave everyday yet... The arrow was rudely pulled from his arm, causing him to cry out, before ice filled the wound. Instantly he wanted two things, bed and food. Never before had he been this bone weary, but he forced himself to move, searching among the faces for two men.

 

He found Arath, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The man was a pillar in the Tower, without him many would have fallen apart. After finding him though, he ignored the man's existence. He had hardly ever spoken to the man himself. His eyes scanned, finding a group of the civilians knotting together, and walked towards the mass. Even his tired brain knew what he'd find at the center.

 

He didn't have the heart to shove his way through, and instead waited his turn. When he stood in front of the storm leader, he nodded his head and spoke, his voice ragged, but still seething with unspent rage. "Storm Leader Covai, I'm Asha'man Sereth Arian, and I'd like to thank you for giving me one last shot at those bastards. I... I was part of Kissian's group, I saw him fall, and I couldn't have left without repaying a fraction of the blood debt."

 

That done, he left the mass of people, heading for his personal quarters. Each step took every bit of will he could muster, but he carried on. His bed was waiting, and unfortunately, so were dreams.

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There wasn't much Martyn could do after stepping through the Gateway. Tentatively reaching out to saidin, he found his block firmly in place again, that mental barrier that was still keeping him from actually wanting to wield it. He still remembered that weave he made, the very thought of the devastation it had caused was still enough to send a shiver down his spine.

 

As he looked at the Asha'men and Dedicated, survivors of that lost battle, he knew what he needed to do now. Walking over to some of the more emotionaly shaken members of the Black Tower, he'd crouch down near them for a small talk, helping them to accept the batles he had gotten himself used to long since. Most of them had never seen a Trolloc before. Most of them hadn't even believed in them. They had gone in as green as fresh recruits, and like recruits they would need a more experienced person to help them come to terms with the carnage of battle. It was something that only experience could form a shield against, and in future battles that shield would be as important as any barrier they'd weave for protection. It was a shield against shock, against panic. Mental scars could not be healed, but like any soldier they would have to learn from them for survival.

 

 

Martyn

Healing mental damage

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There was no better way to cure the mind than alcohol in Gale's opinion. Thankfully, now that a good majority of the Healing was underway the Black Tower was moving somewhat back to normal. Albeit a little bit of a numb, uncertain normal. Most of those that had gone into battle walked in a haze now, going about a few average tasks - checking this or adjusting that. Gale only had eyes for the men slipping into the tavern for a drink.

 

Drinks were all but forced down throats with a couple guys behind the counter just filling mugs for the inevitable. Gale grabbed two and slipped outside of the tavern, eyes searching. When he found Geirrin, he  slipped over to the man quietly and just offered the drink without a word. There wasn't much that could be said.

 

Whether or not Geirrin took it, Gale slumped down beside him and started to drink from his own tall cup. The alcohol tasted strong, perhaps more of it than usual, with only hints of any other flavor. He swallowed another, watching Healers mill about and the knot of Asha'man around Storm Leader Covai sort out the next move for the Tower.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Ze'el dropped the man that he had been carrying on the ground, now that the Healers were coming around to help the wounded. He had no skill in healing, but just for appearance sake he wove pathetic strands of Air, Water, and Spirit, until he was shoved aside by an Asha'man who was obviously skilled in the art. Glad to be relieved, Ze'el released the Power for the first time since he had first grasped it in Sheinar. He couldn't hold back a gasp as the rush left him; combine with the lack of adrenaline, Ze'el realized for the first time how utterly exhausted he was. Not only was he physically exhausted from doing more physical exertion than he was used to, but he had also used more of Saidin and for longer than he had ever done before.

 

His shocked caused him to collapse to the ground, and a man who he recognized slightly came up to him. "Kassian, are you alright?" he heard as if through a fog. Ze'el managed to nod his head slightly- he wasn't wounded other than a multitude of scratches. He was physically alright, but... he was a bit odd. The death of his comrades didn't bother him at all- even in battle the normal emotions of anger or despair didn't touch him. However, Ze'el could honestly say that that was the first time that he was genuinely in danger, and also the first time that he was in genuine desperation. That battle taught him the true boundaries of his strength. He had always known that he was weak in the Power, but it had never truly meant anything to him. Ze'el resolved to be more creative in his use of the Power, the blunt grenades that he had thrown at the shadowspawn had worked, but they were extremely draining.

 

Also, as he wandered over towards the Inn, Ze'el realized that Kassian was in no way able to do what needed to be done. Kassian was too stupid to come up with creative uses of Saidin. Kassian was too weak to better himself, and too weak to take care of himself in battle. Ze'el grimaced, the disguise of Kassian had been very useful, and very helpful, but it appeared that he would have to let a little bit more of his true self shine through. He finally managed to make it to the Inn, and around him he saw the fatigued looks of the men around him, and the awed looks of those who hadn't been there. He almost barked a laugh right there, but refrained. He would definitely have to better himself, if just to have the power to silence the whispers of the fools around him.

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