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A WHEEL OF TIME COMMUNITY
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Weapon or Healer? ((Attn: Ikkiliad....OPEN))

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Valeran walked towards the infirmary completely lost in thought. He sat staring into the cloudy sky lost in thought after the battle with the Shadow in Shienar.  Valeran had known defeat, it was a bitter pill to swallow but 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 a leader's feet.  He had been a leader before he came to the Black Tower.  As a leader you had to get past it for the simple fact that the soldiers, dedicated, and Asha'man would be looking to their leaders for reassurance.  He was a weapon now,  a dedicated not a leader though he would do what he could.

 

He sat up and winced, his hand involuntarily went to the bandage on his head.  It was not bad enough to merit healing.  He saw Storm Leader Covai barking orders, he respected the man, he knew his duty to his men.  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, actions that commanded respect.  He had covered their retreat and had to be half carried from the field. 

 

The Storm Leader 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.

 

Valeran's eyes followed the little Dedicated who moved between the injured men healing what wounds he could.  The Dedicated whose name he did not know had nothing of the look of a soldier.  A tiny reed thin man about ten years younger than Valeran.  Valeran respected soldiers, men who could wield a sword or lance.  Men who could protect their homestead.  This man did not look like he could last a day in the Borderlands though size meant little, it was heart and courage that counted.

 

Valeran walked into the infirmary seeking the man who had healed dozens of injured Asha'man from the battle in Shienar.  It was only a few days since the battle and there were still plenty of injured who needed attention.  Valeran had swallowed his pride and decided to help out where he could.  He wanted to be a better weapon though the sad fact of the matter was that he was weak in the power.  All skills were needed at the Black Tower and he would help where he could.  He had seen the weaves the Dedicated had used and thought perhaps that he could learn.

 

Valeran walked over near the younger black coated man who was tending an injured soldier.  When he stood, Valeran was surprised to see the dragon added to the man's collar.  The man barely came to his chin and was reed thin where Valeran was stout.  Judging by his size many would not have believed that Valeran had been a Saldaean Lancer for over twenty years until they saw his bowlegged walk.  "Pardon the intrusion Asha'man."  Valeran spoke to the shorter man respectfully.  "I am Valeran Kertovni.  I saw you healing the other day, after the battle.  I saw the weaves and thought that perhaps I might possess a small ability to heal.  I am not certain though, I did not want to attempt the weaves without proper instruction."  He stood there patiently hoping the Ash'aman would agree to work with him. 

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Stormladies, Creator, Father of Storms...

 

Something along that line just kept repeating inside Simmen's head, somewhere. He knew it would be hard and harsh right from the start. He just did not know how hard. He ached to just lie down and sleep. If the cramps and pains wouldn't be all too firmly in his mind, then, doing nothing.

He did not have much time to think. It had only been a few days now since he had come to this place. Via a "gateway", he seemed to recall these other men calling it.

 

From his weapons training onward, days had gone by in quite similar fashion. Get up before the sun was well up, exercise in the cold air outside, receive some drill, some stick-beating together with other Soldiers...Hadn't Simmen known better, he would have thought this an ordinary army-settlement or something. He knew better, though. Much better, even.

 

He had not received any "lesson" in "channeling" yet, as the Silverpins would call them. And some of the other Soldiers that seemed to know what they were about. He would receive those soon, though. "Not fixed yet", some instructor had said.

 

For the moment, Simmen's task was to get to the "infirmary", carrying some clothing and bandages there.

Moans and a smell bordering on a stink were the first sensations that he got from the insides of the infirmary. Entering was worse.

 

Simmen made a point of looking away, of staring straight ahead, of not listening to the moans of the men.

He had enough fields to clean right now. More than enough.

Now who's in charge in this...mess?, he wondered, wondering what fell Father-wrought stroke had come down on some of the wounded he still could not help but notice at the corner of his sight.

Shaking himself awake, he approached the two blackcoats that stood out in the middle of all that suffering.

He took a deep breath.

"G-good sirs, the clothings, and bandages?"

 

It wasn't the sight that was the worst of it. It was the smell.

And one question that started forming up in Simmen's head:

Lightning strike us down, what happened to these men?

 

Had they gone mad? Or someone else?

 

Simmen did not want to think about it. Yet it wouldn't go away.

 

EDIT: OOC: Forgot...Hope this is appropriate enough. You two can tell him to get the hell out else.  :D

Or I can just delete/rewrite it.

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Ikkiliad wearily dragged himself from his bunk and dressed himself. He and the other Healers had been working non-stop since the battle in Sheinar. All were exhausted and sometimes only kept going by removing each others' exhaustion. At least they had taken care of all the urgent and terminal cases. All was left were smaller cuts, minor burns, fractures, and so on. He made his way to the infirmary and was about to begin work on a Dedicated with burns down his whole back, when suddenly someone else was there.

 

"Pardon the intrusion Asha'man. I am Valeran Kertovni.  I saw you healing the other day, after the battle.  I saw the weaves and thought that perhaps I might possess a small ability to heal.  I am not certain though, I did not want to attempt the weaves without proper instruction."

 

Ikki blinked uncertainly. Someone wantes to learn Healing from me? he wasn't sure how or where to start, but he wasn't about to object.

 

"Ummm, I suppose I could show you how and see what kind of skill you have for  Healing. Everyone can Heal, but the amount of skill one has varies. Some of the Asha'man can Heal almost any wound, but the next one may not be able to do much more than scrapes and bruises. Now watch closely..."

 

"G-good sirs, the clothings, and bandages?"

 

Ikki turned to see another black-coated man with no Dragon or Sword. From the look on his face, he seemed like he was a fairly new Soldier put on Infirmary. He might not even know how to channel yet. Well, he could learn something, in any case.

 

"Umm, yes. Right here. Now both of you, watch closely." Ikki entered the Void and embraced the Source, that eternal struggle, the wild torrent of fire and ice. Taking large amounts of Water, Air, and Spirit, he slowly wove the complex Healing weave. He put his hand on the patient's shoulder and the weave made contact with the burned skin. The Dedicated gasped and gave a small spasm while the purple, black, and red burns down his back faded into his normal, tender pink skin. He released the weave and let go of the now very tired Dedicated.

 

He turned to the Soldier with the bandages. "Solider, fetch some food from that counter for this Dedicated. This type of Healing uses part of the patients energy, so it leaves them very tired and hungry."

 

He herded Valeran down the next patient while Simmen fetched the food. "Now, you can try. This soldier has a cut down his forearm." Ikki slowly unwrapped the bandages from the forearm and gave it a quick examination before proceeding. "Just use the weave I showed you and don't forget to make physical contact with the patient, or it won't work. If you mess up, I'll just cut your weave off and flick you in the forehead, so don't worry." He gave a small grin and motioned for the Dedicated to begin.

 

Ikkiliad sur Paendrag

Not an amazing teacher

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"Umm, yes. Right here. Now both of you, watch closely."

 

Simmen understood. At least, he thought he did, Father be damned.

 

When Simmen saw the fellow do...something...to the patient on the ground, he could not help to blink. And shudder, once the wounded black-coat convulsively sat up.

 

It must have been the power. Simmen was sure of it.

But where's the wound?

 

Simmen didn't have time to dwell much further on that:

"Solider, fetch some food from that counter for this Dedicated. This type of Healing uses part of the patients energy, so it leaves them very tired and hungry."

 

You fellow are a doctor? Thunders strike!

Still, Simmen obeyed. He looked around wildly, hastily, found nothing and got to his senses again, running to what had looked like a baker's tray when he had passed it on the way to the infirmary. With an "On Asha'man's oder" and a finger pointing- something he was taught to do on his first errand some days ago -, he had a bread in hand and hastened back to the infirmary.

 

...I'll just cut your weave off and flick you in the forehead, so don't worry."

Simmen was panting, and only listened to the first bit of it. His first reaction was shock, since he feared to be stricken down now. He was numb with the fear. But when the Asha'man gave a nod and seemed to grow impatient, he carefully stepped forward, presenting the bread with a "Here's some bread, Ash-asha'man sir" and trying that fist salute he was continuously teached. He hoped it looked...acceptable.

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Valeran thought the Asha'man might refuse to train him, his initial response had not been reassuring, blinking uncertainly as if he was shocked to be asked.  Valeran stood there patiently as Ikki seemed to be deciding whether or not to train him.  It was only seconds though it seemed like a lifetime.  Maybe he would not be able to learn after all.  Maybe he was just another weapon, that was something he understood.

 

"Ummm, I suppose I could show you how and see what kind of skill you have for  Healing." Valeran let out a breath in relief.  "Everyone can Heal, but the amount of skill one has varies. Some of the Asha'man can Heal almost any wound, but the next one may not be able to do much more than scrapes and bruises. Now watch closely..."  Valeran watched eager to learn the weave.  For the first time in a very long time he was nervous.  This was foreign to him.

 

"G-good sirs, the clothings, and bandages?"  He glanced at the soldier breifly then directed his attention to Ikki again.  The soldier was none of his concern, he only had eyes for the Asha'man that was about to show him the weave.  "Umm, yes. Right here. Now both of you, watch closely."  He was going to show both of them?  What could the soldier be thinking, the weaves Valeran had seen the others use after the battle seemed complex.  Maybe the soldier could grasp it, who knew when it came to the power.

 

He watched as the Asha'man embraced the source and felt a pang of jealousy.  Holding Saidin made you feel alive, more alive than could be imagined, even in spite of the constant struggle to maintain control and the ever present nausea.  Valeran watched the weave, large amounts of Water, Air, and Spirit.  He very nearly gasped as he saw the burnt skin became tender pink.  Wonder of wonders Valeran actually thought he could do it.  Not yet though, he needed time to make sure he had the weave memorized correctly.

 

Apparently time was not a luxury they had. After giving the soldier instructions, Ikki herded Valeran to the next patient.  "Now, you can try. This soldier has a cut down his forearm."  It was Valeran's turn to blink in surprise.  What if he got it wrong, the pressure was immense.  He watched Ikki remove the bandage and study the wound.  "Just use the weave I showed you and don't forget to make physical contact with the patient, or it won't work. If you mess up, I'll just cut your weave off and flick you in the forehead, so don't worry."  Ikki flashed a grin then motioned for him to begin.  It was easy for the Asha'man to appear confident, he had probably used the weave hundreds of times.

 

Valeran took a deep breath then sought the void.  He embraced the source, fightin, pushing, pulling Saidin to do his bidding.  The weaves began to form...physical contact he reminded himself.  It seemed natural to put his hands on either end of the cut.  The weave fell into place and he nearly lost it due to the amazement of watching his weave work.  The cut skin mended itself then became pink, when he pulled his hands away it was as if then man had never sustained an injury.  He stared at Ikki with a look of uncertainty then looked down at the palms of his hands.  

 

 

 

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Ikki nodded in approval and was almost a bit jealous. He hadn't been that good at healing at that stage of his training. Maybe this Valeran also had the Talent, or maybe this was as good as he was going to get. With saidin, a man can grow in leaps and bounds at any time. The theory of that was quite complex and he had never really gotten into that. He preferred solid knowledge over squabbling over ideas and possibilities.

 

"Well, it seems you have no small Talent, but who knows. You may grow stronger in healing as your strength does, or this may be where your potential stops. Light only knows and only time will tell."

 

Now, to figure out what to teach him next. Delving is always good, as it's the forerunner to any Healing process. "Next, I'll show you two how to Delve. Delving is the building block or all Healing. It's how you find out exactly what's wrong with the patient. Watch closely."

 

Weaving a moderately complex web of Spirit, he scanned the nearest Asha'man for injuries. "This Asha'man has a few broken ribs and a cracked forearm." Ikki said. He then wove Healing into the man, who began to convulse, then went limp as the healing was done. He often wished he could use that new Healing. He hated the way patients reacted with the normal Healing.

 

"Now you try Delving the next man. Soldier, can you touch the Source? If you can, try as well."

 

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"Now you try Delving the next man. Soldier, can you touch the Source? If you can, try as well."

What in the Pit is he talking about?

 

Simmen felt axed. For not knowing what he was to do as much as for being where he was right now. And for what he was seeing.

 

He failed to describe it: It seemed to be light, noise and smell, all things together. Or something more than all those.

Above all, he could...smell...and see...

But then again, that likely were the wounded.

Ladies and Father take me, I am...mad...

Or was he? He did not know. But then again...who could possibly remain sane here, among channelers doomed to madness and death?

 

"I..."

He gulped. Hard.

"I-I was no intr-introduced to the...Power?...Yet. Asha'man. Sir."

 

He thought that he could make out some sort of...pattern...in that mix-up of light and darkness and...was it filth?

 

He thought he could sense something, somewhere in the back of his head. Or not really that.

Something was calling. And he knew it. All too well.

 

Yet, he wouldn't grasp it. He feared what it meant.

 

No, not again, not...yet...

The place felt...hot. Too hot. He wanted to get out.

 

He endured, though. He was committed, after all. Storms take me.

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"Well, it seems you have no small Talent, but who knows. You may grow stronger in healing as your strength does, or this may be where your potential stops. Light only knows and only time will tell."  Valeran's hopes were lifted high then dashed as the little Asha'man informed him that this may be the extent of his abilities.  He hoped that it was not though even a minor ability could be of some use. 

 

Watching as instructed he paid special attention to the web of spirit that Ikki wove.  Valeran cocked his head to the side brushing the hair from his face as Ikki described the injuries detected by the delving.  He continued to watch as Ikki healed the man's injuries.  The body convulsed violently then went limp.  Valeran wondered why a patient reacted so to the healing but he held the question for another time. 

 

Ikki instructed him to delve the next patient though the weave was complex enough that he had to ask to see it again to make sure he understood it completely before using it.  He was here to learn the way of healing not to make the patients suffer.

 

Placing his hands on the next man Valeran delved him.  It was obvious without delving the man that his arm was broken though he discovered the man had a fractured skull as well.  He advised Ikki of his findings though he was reluctant to try to heal the man's head wound without further training.  "Perhaps you should heal this one, his skull is fractured.  I'm not sure my ability is sufficient enough to heal this wound."  He shot a questioning look at Ikki hoping that the Asha'man would take over.

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As expected his little mentor nodded at the wounded soldier indicating that Valeran should do it himself.  It was the only way to learn.  Valeran could teach battle tactics to new soldiers but they didn't truly understand until they had experienced battle for themselves.  It was much the same as learning new weaves.  You could not become proficient without practice.

 

Carefully Valeran formed the weaves to heal the injured man starting with the skull fracture.  It would be pointless to heal the lesser of the injuries only to fail with the more serious life threatening one.  It was calous but true.  Years of war on the blightborder had left Valeran numb to such things.  Men and women died daily in the borderlands, it was a simple fact.  If he could save even one person who would otherwise die than it was worth the risk.

 

The body convulsed as the weaves took affect though the soldier remained unconscious.  Valeran sighed in relief then moved his hands from the boy's head to his injured arm.  It was unnecessary to do so but Valeran preferred to do so.  It helped him visualize the injury and form the proper weave.  The body convulsed again this time the boy's eyes shot open and he let out a gasp. 

 

"You'll be fine son"  Valeran found himself saying then moved onto the next patient already forming the weave for delving. 

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