SG RP - The Gathering

[Wayfarer]

Duram Laddel Cham was slightly surprised to find that he was the first of his fellows to arrive at the meeting to which they had all been summoned. It was a surprise to find that Shaidar Haran, a Myrddraal, could walk the dream, and it also served to confirm his earlier suspicion that something was new when Shaidar Haran had first revealed himself and demanded the sword from him, as well as the cour'souvra. He could have brought the rest to heel or destroyed them with those items, yet Shaidar Haran had levelled the playing field, quite deliberately.

 

Still, the matter of the meeting place was at hand. For the moment, it was nothing but a formless grey, without shape but easily malleable. Whoever arrived first had the right to create the meeting's 'place', for lack of a better word. Whoever arrived first could form it into any shape they wished, and create anything they wished within it. Anything that wouldn't harm another, or so had been decreed after a Chosen had used the right to create the setting to create one that was lethal enough to kill those who weren't quick enough when they arrived. That individual had been killed shortly afterwards, and the prohibition enacted.

 

Besides, Duram had a much better idea, a memory to draw on in fact. Unlike Lanfear who had a penchant for meetings under an endless night, Duram chose a different setting everytime and this time he chose one that was a bit more personal for him. Rather than something famous that all would recognise when they entered, he had decided on something a bit more humble, the livingroom of his first home in M'jinn.

 

His home had been shared between ten people, but the livingroom had been designed to hold twice as many with four lounges of varying colour and a couple of rocking chairs. The livingroom also merged into the kitchen, as there was no wall between them, just a white marble counter. Behind it were a pair of appliances of particular interest that no longer existed in the current age, but were used to keep food and more importantly, drinks. Such were the wonders of the age long gone.

 

Helping himself to a couple of bottles, he took a seat at the lounge closest to where the drinks were. Twisting the first bottle open, with the second sitting at his feet on the dark floorboards, he took a sip as he relaxed. There was alot to be said for his first home. He'd just come from one of the nearby villages, and not having the resources to secure a home for himself, he'd ended up moving into the floor of an apartment building with separate rooms but a common living room and kitchen.

 

He'd been lucky in the floor he had ended up on, they'd all been rather friendly and parties were quite common between work. While he'd been studying both as an Aes Sedai and a legal advocate, the others had been long friends who had been aviator mechanics and pilots. They were the ones who had gotten him interested in sho-wing racing, in particular competing during the Festival of Winds. Ah, but those were the memories of another day and age, or so he mused to himself as he took another sip from his bottle.

 

It was then that something else occured to him. When he'd been living in this house, none of his fellow Chosen had even been born. So help him, the thought just made him feel even more ancient. That thought fled from him as he realised what else he had recreated in the room. Finding the remote, he switched on the box before him only to burst out laughing.

 

He hadn't been quite so retro with his setting as he realised. While what surrounded him was definitely the M'jinn of his childhood, what he was watching was from much later, during the Collapse as it had been called. A particular show had risen to prominence, The Family, and it had pushed all 'reasonable' bounds when it came to depictions of violence as well as the improper nature of their jokes and satirical comments, all communicated through a single family just making its way.

 

That and it was damn funny. Duram eased in his seat as he proceeded to laugh the time away until the next person arrived, surprised that his memory for such things was still so good.

 

 

Duram Laddel Cham

Be`lal, The Netweaver

 

 

 

Meetings between the Chosen were always a big ordeal, you never knew what underlying plot there would be. Who was striving for what and why were they doing it. It was a game of Power, who would be the best amongst the thirteen most powerful men and women of the Age of Legends, and now of whatever this age will be called in the future. Semihrage preferred to go by her new identidy in Murandy. It lessened confusion amongst her servants. Through her victims knew who they were dealing with.

 

Semihrage left the blood covered room and the woman screaming behind her to ready for the meeting. Wearing blood to a meeting was less than tacky, there were standards to uphold, even in the World of Dreams. Semirhages room was laviously decorated in red and golds. They were the kings favorites and she intended to impress him enough to marry her. Her own plots and schemes would unfold one day. Discarding her blood stained leathers she doned a black gause dress of the finest degree. She prefered to be opposite of Lanfears shimmering whites.

 

The time drew near and Semirhage made her way into the World of Dreams in the flesh. The fool Aes Sedai of this time had lost the skills that Aes Sedai of her time once knew. Her thoughts were scored with distrust and anamosity towards any who claimed to be Aes Sedai, particularly those of this time. They were weak. The chosen meeting place was constructed in a home and since Bel'al was the first there probably in form of his own home. Semirhage smiled at the man as he watched the box in front of him. The days of technology were gone and there was no point trying to live in the past, even if it is only in a dream. "Duram, your home I take it?" It was a bit guady in her opinion but she wouldn't say it to his face. Drinks were freely available and Semirhage mixed a strong gin and tonic and sat down in a lucious blue lounge chair. Semirhage sipped at her drink as she waited. Conversations amonst her peers were not something she enjoyed, she prefered one way conversations interrupted with screams of pain and agony.

 

Semirhage

 

 

 

Aginor sighed, as he slipped into the World of Dreams. He had always hated Tel'aran'rhiod, where reality was as malleable as thought, and natural law meant nothing.

 

He found himself in the Blight, where he quickly moved to the meeting place. Before he did so, he clothed himself in the traditional garb of a scientist, a simple coat, with several protection measures underneath, in case something went wrong in an experiment. His mind went back to the day of the Sharom's death, and the Great Lord's release, and chuckled, quietly.

 

He stepped, and found himself in a house. It was a small house, with a pitiful array of what once was. He dismissed his old garb, dressing himself in a nondescript cloak, and other clothes, and walked grimly into the room. The other Chosen sought to strive between themselves, to gain power. He had simply stopped playing. At the moment, his only goal was survival, rather than to become Nae'blis. He ruled the Blight, and controlled hordes of Trollocs, and, in the end, it was Trollocs who would shatter this fragile little Age, his creations who would further the Great Lord, not their pitiful schemes.

 

However, at this time, it was wise to make allies. He sat down, reclined, and looked at Be'lal, ignoring Semirhage completely, and spoke. "A lovely little abode, Be'lal. Yours, I presume?"

 

He sighed, and gave the impression that he was relaxing. As it was, his nerves were incredibly tense. He'd never had the mettle to attack someone without overwhelming odds on his side, and the rest of the Chosen knew it. However, his command of the Fortress would bring the jealousy of some, and.. Well, no-one here would not jump at the chance to bring another down for even a petty slight, let alone power.

 

He pulled at his robe, finding it rather uncomfortable. He looked at the wine, and mentally declined. Even a second of unawareness, although it would not mean death, could mean valuable knowledge lost. He sighed loudly, and reclined further into his chair, waiting for the arrival of the other Chosen..

 

Aginor

 

 

 

Joar Addam Nessosin stepped through the gateway he had woven and into the Unseen World. The gateway closed behind him, and Joar Addam looked at the meeting place created by the first arrival. Apparently, someone did not want to let go of the past. The furnishings were those of an average home in what the primatives of this current Age called the Age of Legends. Joar Addam took in the comfortable surroundings and those who had already arrived.

 

Duram Laddel Cham was seated on one of the lounges nearest the kitchen, sipping some sort of drink. No doubt he had been the first on the scene, judging by his relaxed demeanor. Nemene Damendar Boann was seated in a blue chair, with some sort of strong drink. Her black gauze dress was attractive, but Joar Addam couldn't help feeling nervous around the woman. Ishar Marrad Chuain was shifting in his chair as if he had just sat down.

 

Nodding and muttering greetings to those other Chosen, Joar Addam sat in one of the cushioned chairs and concentrated. Conversation was not likely in this company; none wanted to give anything away that could be useful to those among them. And Joar Addam Nessosin hated silence. He had also hated the show 'The Family.' He took up the pen that he had manifested and began writing notes. The tension that was beginning to mount was inspiring.

 

Time had lost their names, but these primatives remembered enough. They remembered the names given to the ones who survived. Dead were Duram Laddel Cham, Nemene Damendar Boann, and Ishar Marrad Chuain. Dead was Joar Addam Nessosin. They were Be'lal, Semirhage, and Aginor; he was Asmodean.

 

Asmodean took a moment to manifest a bottle of a fine wine of which he had been fond. Despite the danger he was in simply by appearing, there was no reason not to enjoy things while he could.

 

Asmodean

 

 

 

Smiling to herself, Karamile held up a few dresses as she gazed in the mirror. Most of her "allies" dreaded meetings between the Chosen, but she was never so defensive in her mind. Of course, even she understood the threat that would be presented if an argument got out of hand or one them felt they had the upper hand, but she didn't worry too much about the headgames. Those were her area of expertise. As she turned to look at one of her servants, she smiled wider. A dark green would be the perfect color. Besides, she liked the way the light shimmered off of it. She turned to kiss the servant who had handed her the dress before she walked off to her room to be alone.

 

When she closed the door, Karamile turned around and concentrated a bit before entering Tel'aran'rhiod. The warming sensation coming out from the room that the others were meeting in was very pleasing. She closed her eyes and allowed the feeling to wash over her as she gently pushed the door open and walked in. After she took a few steps, Karamile opened her eyes and smiled serenely at the others before saying, "Good evening Be'lal, Asmodean, Semirhage, Aginor." With each name she smiled wide at them and nodded before choosing the perfect spot. There was a chair with a long ottoman covered in a fine cloth that felt incredibly soft. Daintily, Karamile sat down on it and swung her legs around her, smoothing her dress out before she allowed herself to relax with her hands clasped in her lap.

 

Inwardly, she smiled wider. The air was so tense she could almost smell it. This was almost funny how pathetic the others were being. At the same time it was almost cute. Closing her eyes for a couple of seconds, Karamile let the smells and feelings of nostalgia wash over her. This place would almost be cosy if it weren't for the others being poised for a full assault on each other, she thought to herself. "So, how have you all been? Still finding new ways to torture your friends, Semirhage? What have the rest of you kept yourselves busy with?" Karamile smiled her usual coy smile to each of the others as she looked at them. Might as well put them on the defensive now, she figured. "This is a nice place. Who created this image? Oh, I hope whoever it was thought to put something to drink in here. Would anyone be so kind as to mix me something?"

 

Graendal

 

 

 

Aginor stood, and poured her a drink. He normally didn't bother disguising his contempt for Graendal, her and her pets, but, right now, it paid to be civil. At the very least, it'd rein the mood in. Of course, he could've always simply created her a drink, but he preferred not to showcase his ineptitude in the World of Dreams.

 

As Graendal spoke, Aginor replied. "Of course. Keeping busy is the only thing to do until the Day of Return". He smiled. "What about you, Graendal? Still... playing with your pets?". As he sat back down, he relaxed once more into the chair. Absentmindedly, he used Tel'aran'rhiod to move the cup over to Graendal, as it hovered in front of her face. Ostentanious, but, hopefully Graendal would simply think him somewhat rude, rather than unskilled.

 

He formed his face into a smooth mask once more, and waited. This myrddraal, this... thing, that called itself Shaidar Haran, was bound to arrive soon. He almost snarled at the thought of it, someone tampering with his creations, even if it was the Great Lord..

 

Aginor

[Guest Allisa]

Lanfear floated in the Dreamspace, blue eyes intent on the sphere hovering before her. Warded, and very skillfully. It vexed her that she could not work her way past it yet. Still there was time…

 

She always did like to make an entrance and having the others already assembled would give her the opportunity to get a lay for the land. Alliances among them shifted and collapsed so rapidly…and this newest oddity Shaidar Haran was more than troubling. Hand of the Dark indeed, Lanfear sniffed dismissively even as she suppressed a shudder. The way the thing had smiled at her….she had long ago overcome the fear most men and women felt when confronted by a Fade. Mydraals quailed before the Chosen not the other way around but Shaidar Haran’s gaze made her want to squirm. Worse she suspected the thing knew.

 

And so she prepared herself carefully, mentally, emotionally and physically. As she stepped into the room she noted those already waiting and nodded sardonically at each one. Grandeal lounged in a nearby chair, one foot swinging idly while Aginor hovered nearby. Asmodean seemed to be trying to fade into the background while Be’lal and Semirhage talked quietly nearby.

 

“Already laying our battle lines are we?†Lanfear laughed and extended a hand. A silver goblet appeared in it and she sipped, “And to think I had hoped to be fashionably late.â€

 

Lanfear

Daughter of the Night

“I aim to misbehaveâ€

[Seiera]

Kamarile smiled when Aginor rose to make her a drink. Just as cute as ever, she thought, he wants to make it look like he's doing it under protest. As she waited, she began to let her left leg dangle off of the ottoman and swing it back and forth, watching the silk move with her skin. She looked up just in time to see Aginor walk over to her with a glass in hand and saying, "Of course. Keeping busy is the only thing to do until the Day of Return. What about you, Graendal? Still... playing with your pets?"

 

Unable to help herself, Kamarile let out a small laugh. "Actually, for the past few days I had been playing dress up, if you must know," she said. That would not have been such a bad statement had it been false. She enjoyed experimenting with fashion. "You might find it interesting however, that I have been devoting more time to work lately. The Seanchan are really an agreeable people once they get to know you." Kamarile smiled again in her sweet, casual way. Again, the way she said that in such a serious and yet innocent manner seemed to carry throughout the room. She was about to ask another question when she saw the door open and Lanfear strolled in the room and looked over them.

 

“Already laying our battle lines are we? And to think I had hoped to be fashionably late.†she said. Kamarile gave a small laugh to Lanfear as she waved her over. "Battle lines? Not at all, my dear Lanfear. I was just beginning to relax myself. Have a seat! Fashionably late has always been your style." As she finished her statement, Kamarile looked over at the others who were secluding themselves in the far reaches of the room and looking almost suspiciously at the rest. Okay, so maybe battle lines WERE being drawn.

 

OOC: Edit, OMG I can't believe I misspelled my own name..

[Marak]

Aginor chuckled dryly. "Ah, the Seanchan. I understand they managed to push back their little Blight. Personally, I've been helping along our Blight. Remember Kandor?"

 

He squirmed in his chair, trying to get more comfortable. It was hard to relax in such a room, but he tried. He just wanted that damned Shaidar Haran to turn up, so he could get out of here. It was infuriating, being stuck in this room with nothing to do, being expected to socialize with the other Chosen, who would no doubt leap at the chance to undermine him.

 

Aginor sighed deeply, and refilled his cup with a thought. It was inconvinient having to stand, and, although it may've been somewhat strange-looking, it was convinient. He drained this cup, this time with water in it, in a single, long, gulp, and then turned, and looked, at Lanfear. "Ah, Lanfear. Another fashionable entrance, I see. Why don't you sit down? We're still drawing up the battle lines, it might take us awhile yet."

[Wayfarer]

Chatting away pleasantly with Nemene, Duram waved to each person as they arrived. Mierin annoyed him by creating her own drink rather than going to the stash he had specifically made for everyone, but Mierin always did have particular tastes. It also annoyed him that people had so quickly taken the spare chairs he had made, then were proceeding to create new chairs for themselves. He'd thought it would be such a nice change to have people on couches, but only he, Kamarile and Nemene seemed to be using them currently.

 

Perhaps others that came wouldn't be quite so fearful at sharing a seat with others and maybe speaking in a relaxed manner. Then again, the others were far younger, and most of them hadn't climbed the heights until after they had sworn themselves over to the Shadow. The heights of their professions perhaps, but the heights of power? Only a few had, and none of them were present yet.

 

Of course, that was a rather general assumption. A more simplistic and accurate answer for the tension was that they all feared one another's power, some more than others such as Barid's little half brother, and Joar who focused on trying to create a new piece of art rather than confront it. To Duram, all their power concentrated in one place wasn't a source of fear but safety. No one would dare turn on anyone else in fear of exposing themselves to counter attack. After spending nearly three thousand years in the Bore, no one was willing to throw it all away on a careless toss of the dice.

 

That was why while the others were being cautious or sitting on their own chairs, Duram was still comfortably sprawled on the lounge in a singlet and shorts, drinking, watching the family and talking to Nemene.

 

Having said that, the clever repartee was beginning to wear early on. That was one of the reasons he did not like coming to the meetings, the posturing. Why they couldn't just interact with people like they had before the Great Lord had deigned to give them a name was beyond him. Maybe because they began to believe in it too much, Mierin in particular, probably because she was the only one to pick her own name.

 

If he were the Great Lord, he would've let her pick her own name as well to save himself from being stalked. After the way she'd stalked Lews for months, most people had realised it wasn't wise to say no to her.

 

Still, while they may be intent on such entertainments, Duram was happy to remain quite comfortable. Taking a swig of his drink, he stretched on the couch lazily as he spoke up loud enough for everyone. "It seems all the ladies are dressed impeccably as usual, you're particularly ravishing tonight Joar."

 

Grinning at the man as he looked up from his notation, Duram waved off the retort that was forming. "I'm joking, can't we all relax? We're the last of a dead age, one would think we could put aside the usual animosities for at least a single meeting. Its rather nostalgic in a way, being able to talk with people who lived as we did, learnt as we did. The people of this age have their limitations."

 

"Besides, something new is happening." Duram's tone was more contemplative as he continued. "This Shaidar Haran... To say he is no ordinary Myrddraal is to state the obvious, but I have no answer as to why he is. I don't know what the thoughts of you all are, but myself I am concerned. I cannot remember any of us having to answer the call of a single Shadowspawn before."

 

 

Duram Laddel Cham

Be`lal, The Netweaver

[Dias]

Sammael and Rahvin strode into the room in the World of Dreams side by side, chatting amiably, at ease. It was a cool, calculated move, discussed and decided beforehand, designed to instantly show the others their alliance, simultaneously deterring others from attacking either of them, and setting them on edge. Chosen were never this informal in their dealings.

 

“Sorry I’m late,†Sammael said.

 

Tel Janin was sure he detected some pause, some change in the atmosphere of the room, when he and Rahvin were seen. Seasoned schemers as they were, however, the Chosen hid it well. Be’lal waved cheerfully from his couch across the room, the only one to make such a gesture. Sammael tapped two fingers against his forehead and waved them vaguely in Duram’s direction, with a wry smile of his own, twisted by the scar that marred his features.

 

The hand gesture was an old military salute from the days before the Breaking, when both men had served on the side of the Light. Now, Sammael delivered it rather sloppily, of course. The generals who would have admonished him for it were three thousand years dead. Be’lal kept smiling, appreciating the joke.

Rahvin nodded to Sammael, and they parted. Tel Janin headed for the cooler where the drinks were kept, merely for something to do. Also, it brought him closer to Semirhage, whom he wanted to observe.

 

The Netweaver was seated beside Nemene, the giver of pain. She was a frightening woman, to take so much pleasure in causing pain. Sammael himself didn’t go in for that. Pain was only a side effect of things that needed to be done, for him. When he fought people, they felt pain, because he was killing them. When he fought battles, both sides felt pain, because they were being wounded and killed. The pain was not the important thing. It fell away under the call of duty.

 

 

Except for when it came to Lews Therin. Tel Janin would give him pain. Sammael roared in his head when he realised his hand had risen to the scar on his face, given to him by the Dragon, and wrenched it away, grasping instead one of the drinks provided in the lounge. Turning again, he saw Be’lal still grinning at him, raising his own bottle in salutation. Sammael ignored him.

 

Rahvin and Sammael had allied before the events in Kandor, and had thought carefully after Demandred’s destruction. They had known even before that had come to pass that strength lay in numbers, in unity. For this reason they were considering offering another of the Chosen a chance to join them. All great things of the One Power were done with both sides of it, but at the moment there alliance consisted only of saidin. For safety, and strength, they could do with a female ally. This meeting was the perfect opportunity to scope out potential friends, and enemies. This was why Sammael wanted to watch Semirhage. This was why Rahvin had sat so close to Graendal.

 

Sammael sipped his drink, and waited for the world to do something.

 

 

 

Tel Janin Aellinsar

Sammael, the Destroyer of Hope

[Deiria]

OOC: Moghedien's body was destroyed but her mind was transfered to another body, her name is Eden. You have not seen Moggy since. Now, she is very tall and has long blond hair tied to a pony tail...

 

Moghedien shivered, not because it was cold - here, where she was, was never too cold or warm. She just didn't want to meet every Chosen like this - looking like this. If she was suppose to meet only the Chosen ones, she could have been like she used to be, the look and body she had had thousands of years. But she was too afraid to transform her look now: HE had called them to the meeting and HE might not like it. She didn't want to get punished because of that! So, she was forced to use Eden's body and look.

 

She looked at Eden's - no! her own hands. The fingers were too long and slim. That woman don't have any character and willpower, she thought, even her fingers are bland. Sour (and childish) thouhts annoyed her mind making her even more cross and nervous. She was sure everyone had arrived already, and hoped she was not too late. She wondered if that peculiar myrdraal was there too. He made her uneasy - not it, she used to think every myrdraal as not human - but that myrdraal was something different. He was too human to be just 'it'. He defenitely had strange powers to be just a messenger. She bit nervously her fingernails, something she had never done before, and something Eden never did. I have to go now! She sighed deeply, then shaked all deperate thoughts and feelings away and focused on what she was and why she was called Moghedien. At least Eden had not stolen my mind! I'm Moghedien, one of the greatest, one of the Chosen!!, she strengened herself before stepping in to the place they were suppose to meet.

 

She stepped in, but no-one noticed her. They were too focused to chatting with each other, or perhaps 'chatting' had too affirmative tone. They didn't like and they didn't trust each other, and every time there was a chance to remark, they took it cladly.

 

Or, perhaps they were chatting, times change and she herself had been forced to join with Be'lal - of course other's didn't know it, and they did their best to hide that. To her amazement, she noticed being glad about the alliance. ...Was that her own feeling? Or was that cursed woman, Eden, pushing her thoughts through Moghedien's mind.

 

"Have you lost your touch, darlings?" She said aloud "...just anyone could slip here without you noticing it..."

 

They turned and looked totally strange, very tall and blond, woman in front of them. Women grabbed the source, and Moghedien was sure men did that too. Even Duram looked suprised, very well acting, she had to admit.

 

"Take it easy! I'm Moghedien" she said but could see their doubtful faces and glares. "There was this unfortunete accident, I got killed" she said bluntly making it sound a joke, and in strange way it was a joke, and continued "I was restored, but not to my own body, but to this very unconvenient body" She hid the bitterness well, but probably this charming group was not fooled.

 

"Anyway, it is your problem if you don't believe" she turned to the table with drinks and took some "HE will surely punish me if I got lost to wrong jubilee..."

 

 

Moghedien

Appearance is done :D

[Quibby]

Despite himself, Asmodean couldn't help but chuckle grimly at Be'lal's comment. Before he could voice his defense, the older man continued. The man knows what's going on, I'll give him that, Asmodean thought before returning to his score.

 

If only the great symphonies of his Age still existed! If this piece did not tell of the Chosen, then nothing ever would. As far as he could remember, Asmodean had associated people and things with music. Be'lal brought to mind a baritone sound with movements that reflected speed and rapier-like wit. Semirhage made him think of the screeching of violins. Aginor was an assortment of instruments vaguely resembling the background noise of a lab. Sammael was a smart snare cadence and bugles. Then there was...

 

"Have you lost your touch, darlings? Just anyone could slip in here without you noticing it..." In his suprise, Asmodean's head whipped toward the source of the comment, his hand following, dragging the pen across his work. He had already seized saidin and was making ready to throw some very nasty weaves when the newcomer, a tall blonde woman, spoke again. "Take it easy! I'm Moghedien."

 

In this group, Asmodean never pressed his luck. Still holding saidin, he listened as the woman claiming to be the Spider briefly told her story before turning to the table that held the drinks. "As sneaky as always, I see," Asmodean said lightly.

 

As he let go of saidin, Asmodean turned back to his music... or what was left of it. He cursed lightly under his breath before allowing the music to vanish. He could have corrected the error, but there was no reason to do so; Moghedien's arrival had caused some of the mounting tension to snap and destroy his inspiration. The music he had written, though, would still be there when he returned to the waking world, safe in his mind.

 

Of course, now Asmodean was left with little choice but to acutally participate in conversation with the rest of the Chosen. As long as I don't have to watch The Family.

 

[Seiera]

"Ah, the Seanchan. I understand they managed to push back their little Blight. Personally, I've been helping along our Blight. Remember Kandor?" asked Aginor. Closing her eyes and sipping from her glass, Kamarile let her smile widen. Looking back up at her "companion", she batted her eyelashes as her face transformed from alluring to confused in a matter of seconds. "Kandor..? I don't seem to recall," she said. Tracing the edge of her glass, she appeared lost in thought. "Tell me, Mierin, have I lost my mind? Do you remember Kandor?"

 

As she continued to listen to the conversation, Kamarile allowed herself to become perfectly comfortable in this room. Besides the numerous men and women who had utterly horrible hobbies and a track record for cruel behavior, she had nothing to worry about. Her smile widened again. This was hardly a problem.. As she took another sip from her glass, she heard a surprising voice that said, "Have you lost your touch, darlings? Just anyone could slip here without you noticing it..." Nearly choking and turning to face the new voice, Kamarile held a hand up to her face to make sure none of the contents of her glass made it to her dress.

 

She smiled and almost laughed when she felt everyone in the room but herself and the stranger seize Saidin or Saidar. If this woman had been a true stranger, then her words made no sense. Plus, she would be able to neutralize any threat that she sensed from the girl. Or so she thought, until the girl continued, "Take it easy! I'm Moghedien! There was this unfortunete accident, I got killed. I was restored, but not to my own body, but to this very unconvenient body." Removing her hand from her face, she waved to the woman who must have been Moghedien and flashed her usual alluring smile. "Well, that does explain a lot! I must say, the new body is certainly charming.." said Kamarile as she licked her lips and took another sip from her glass.

 

"Come, have a seat by me," continued Kamarile. "We were just - how did you put it Mierin? - drawing out the battle lines. Though as of yet, I am still unsure as to which battle these lines belong."

[Ranulf Ryan]

He slowly opened his eyes as the moon’s beam lit a part of his face, disturbing his not so peaceful slumber. The wind blew and entered the royal room and swayed the white curtains as it filled the quarters with a comforting cool; the light from the outside escaped the satin sheets and lit a portion of the room. Ared Mosinel smiled and for awhile marveled at such simple creation. He sat up and stared at the sleeping form beside him, Queen Aramila, Queen of Andor, his beautiful lover. Though within his pride he accepted that he only captured the interest of the queen due to his compulsion talent, he also acknowledged arrogantly that should he not need her hastily, he could have gone and did his usual amusement which was the courting game. Nonetheless, he needed her post haste to commence his plans, which already started a few years past.

 

As he stared at Aramila, Rahvin’s emotios was again in a quandary. He is a Chosen and due to that he already had forfeited his right to his destiny. Having even a twinge of an emotion with the queen would surely sour his plans, not to the mention the wrath of his great lord should he deviate from his strategies. He has no right to feel, only to conquer.

 

Frowning, Rahvin removed the sheets from his body, stood up and tried to block his thoughts that make him what he thought as weak. The light from the outside glistened in his naked body which was acclaimed by a lot of his past lovers as chiseled by the creator himself. Quietly and bare-footed, he strode towards the windows and then rested one hand in the pane. He closed his eyes and inhaled, savoring the evening breeze. He opened his eyes and smiled as he surveyed the lands that would be his. The queen’s quarter was situated high in the castle, overlooking a large part of Andor. It is where Rahvin stood and scanned his properties which were now being caressed by the moon’s touch. And then he remembered, he was supposed to attend a rendezvous, a meeting with the Chosen. His face twisted with scorn as he remembered them, the bloody lot. It had been a long time since the same gathering was held. He now wondered what triggered this pending event.

 

“My love.†A lovely lady voice purred behind, disturbing his thoughts.

 

Rahvin slowly turned and face the owner of the voice, who was awed by the sight that greeted her: her lover’s body silhouetted by the moonlight and half of his face, making him look more dangerous complimented by a manly appeal.

 

“It amazes me why I’ve never got tired looking at you.†The queen said as she pushed herself up in the bed and covered herself with the sheets.

 

Although his mind said it’s because of her being under his compulsion talent, he said, “And I you.†He walked towards her.

 

“You’re awake, as always, during this eve’s fine hour.†She asked.

 

He smiled, reached for her lips with his thumb and touched it softly. “Just pensive, my lady. Crops and revenues for accounting, inventory of the arms, issues from agriculture.†He kissed her softly then. “Go back to sleep, my lady.†Rahvin said, but Aramila’s hands snaked into his unmentionable region. He smiled as he took her hand and rather placed it in his lap. “Not now, my dear. I need to attend upon a gathering of lords.†He lied. The queen frowned coyly and Rahvin chuckled. “You wont regret the wait, my lady.†He said and kissed her again in the lips and then in her hands. “Now rest.†The queen smiled in her sleep as he went to don his clothes. Simple but immaculate, he wore his usual white shirt and black breeches, and a black overcoat that has golden streak indicating his nobility.

 

Ready to depart, he wove silken shapes of the power to travel and meet his ally, Tel Janin. They discussed beforehand that they will arrive together and probably make the others see and concur that there was indeed an alliance between them. It was not a concretized idea, only a suspicion. Notwithstanding, they’re strategy was to throw them off the scent when time comes.

 

As they entered the world of dreams, Rahvin smiled amicably to all the people in the place. His eyes met all on by one and then he nodded to Sammael so they can part ways, at least in the room

 

Rahvin strode near the windows and listened as the conversations started. Listening ah yes, a simple exploit yet a mean to rule them all…

 

Ared Mosinel

Rahvin, The Prince of Dark

[Seiera]

Kamarile smiled and nodded at Mierin as the others began to settle down. Looking over at Ared, Rahvin, she saw him looking rather uncomfortable. Awww, now why would someone feel uncomfortable in this room I wonder. Suppressing a giggle with her free hand, Kamarile once again ventured forth into the silence, saying, "So Rahvin, Sammael.. how have you two been spending your time? I do hope it's been spent wisely? I'm sure you both have incredibly clever schemes that you've been attending to."

 

After a while, it was so quiet in the room that Kamarile actually began to feel a bit uncomfortable. After she had finished her glass off, she refused to open up the conversations anymore. If anyone really wanted to talk, they were going to do it themselves. Of course, that meant it was going to be silent for a while, but surely Shaidar Haran wouldn't be keeping them much longer. Come to think of it, she never was sure why it seemed that they were always kept waiting so long.

 

As she sighed for the third time, looking around the room idly, she couldn't help but wonder why it was Rahvin had sat so close to her. This was not usual. Sure, he was beautiful, but she was not the type of girl to fall head over heels over a man. It was supposed to be the other way around and she intended to keep it that way. Flashing him her usual, alluring smile, she began to busy herself with smoothing her dress and making sure that the straps were on secure. Couldn't have that falling off here, now could we? she thought, smiling again at Rahvin as if to share with him what she had been thinking.

 

Suddenly, the idea of moving closer to Mierin didn't seem all that bad of an idea..

[Wayfarer]

Smiling at their latest arrival, Duram was certain that he saw discomfit on Osan'gar's face. Sort of like the visage of a child thwarted, though at best Duram could only conjure suspicions as to why. The fact that Osan'gar chose not to sit near Aran'gar who had arrived a little earlier sparked his curiosity. The two freed from Barid's control, they seemed to want little to do with each other since they'd been slain. Appearances as always were open to question, but that certain line of thought was worth entertaining at least, even if Shaidar Haran had taken the cour'souvra for himself.

 

Speaking of which, the sudden absence of the one power announced that the very creature was amongst them. Despite having been shielded in such a way before, it still took him surprise. Before anyone could say anything, a darkness appeared in the middle of the room to form into a being that stood easily above them all and dwarfed it's Myrddraal cousins.

 

Shaidar Haran.

 

"It is good to see everyone is here, even if one of your number needed a certain amount of... encouragement." The last said with a dark smirk at Osan`gar, Shaidar Haran claimed the last seat that expanded in size to accomodate him. It was surprising to see a Myrddraal, even one as queer as this, have such command over the dream yet there it was.

 

"You're here for a reason I'm sure some of you already suspect. Demandred is dead, and with his death there is no nae`blis. As Shaidar Haran, I am here to tell you that there shall be no new nae`blis.... yet."

 

"Amongst you all, there is no one person with enough power to be the Great Lord of the Dark's first servant. It is up to one of you to prove themselves worthy of the task. Obey the Great Lord of the Dark's instruction, spread his will throughout the world, do whatever is necessary to raise oneself in the Great Lord of the Dark's eyes."

 

"If it should prove necessary to work with another, you wouldn't be the first to do so. Sammael assisted Aginor in destroying Chachin recently, though of more note is the fact that Sammael has tied himself to Rahvin, a fact which the pair have managed to keep rather secret until now."

 

Duram might have laughed if it wasn't Shaidar Haran who had let slip such information, or if the dark being hadn't pointed to himself and Lillen. "These two in turn have been together for sometime, and storming Chachin's palace together killed Demandred."

 

Acutely aware of eyes studying himself and his partner, Duram kept a rather nonchalant expression. Something which would have been alot more difficult if it had been him and Lillen that had been singled out first. The creature's smirk spoke volumes that Duram could understand, Shaidar Haran knew exactly what he was doing by revealing Duram's part and his alliance, yet the pressing question was why?

 

"Lastly, a warning for those of you that may be considering interfering with the Dragon Reborn. He is not to be killed. Now that I am done, I will leave to let you ponder what has been said."

 

With that the creature was gone, only the oversized seat remaining. It was only once the creature was gone and saidin showed itself willing to acknowledge his call once more that Duram realised that the box that he had been watching earlier had been removed entirely by Shaidar Haran.

 

Sighing, Duram finished off the last of his bottle and getting to his feet, walked over to where Lillen was seated and sat with her. There was little point in hiding their alliance now that Shaidar Haran had effectively exposed not only that they were indeed free from the Bore, but allied. Better to show strength in solidarity now that secrecy was gone.

 

 

Duram Laddel Cham

Be`lal, the Netweaver

 

OOC: Apologies for not getting this up before heading to Res school. Also, Shaidar could have been a little better, but I figured getting this up sooner was more important than taking a day or two to sharpen it up. Now all thats left is to talk, or leave, or do whatever it is you wish to do with all this new information :)

[Osangar]

Osan'gar stared with hatred in his eyes at the empty space where Shaidar Haran has been a moment ago. He could almost feel him holding the cour'souvra. Already forced to come here by the damned mind traps, only to listen to something he had no intention of following.

 

I will find a way out of that cour'souvra, I refuse to have some self important shadowspawn commanding me. As usual at times like this Osan'gar ignored the fact that Shaidar Haran negated the One Power, and that he seemed to give the Dark Ones own orders to the Chosen.

 

Looking around at the other chosen, he despised the mockery of the Age of Legends they were in. The Past is gone, time to forget about ancient relics and continue with our domination of this Age. Looking with distain at the other Chosen he rose, and cleared his throat.

 

“I have more important matters to attend to that this Gathering, I must supervise the Message I have sent to the White Tower.†Noticing several veiled looks of confusion he elaborated, “I have sent my Mae’shadar Caladesh with a very powerful angreal to attack the White Tower, he is as we speak destroying the place.â€

 

Manipulating the dream Osan’gar created a glass model of the White Tower on the table. Then continued speaking which he remodelled it as Caladesh was doing, “He has removed the doors, and put in some windows, and destroyed some of the unneeded columns.†Osan’gar released the model and watched as it faded from view.

 

“Quite clearly unlike the rest of you, I am actually doing something to further our cause, after Caladesh is finished, wether or not he survives, the White Tower will be in shambles, Aes Sedai flinching at the mere mention of the Shadow, and there is now no possibility of a alliance between the Towers,†pointing at each of the Chosen he spoke again, “Can any of you say that you have done something as important to our cause?â€

 

Osan’gar sat back down, waiting for the reply. Perhaps this will bring them out of their bickering and form some kind of unified front against the damned Light Fools.

 

Osan’gar

Chosen

[Wayfarer]

Duram felt his knuckles trying to burst through their skin as his fists tightened. As Osan'gar finished his explanation, Duram could only feel frustration at the sheer stupidity he was being forced to witness. While it wasn't necessarily true what Osan'gar said, it was exactly something Osan'gar would do. Not only waste a pawn in a futile gesture, but do something dangerously stupid to give the opponent an advantage. The very reason why when the man had been known as Elan, he had not been given important commands where possible, commands where his gross ineptitude wouldn't interfere. He had always been a preacher, not a general, even if he fancied himself a warlord of men's hearts and souls.

 

"You fool." There wasn't a hot rage in Duram's voice, rather there was the cold ice that bespoke of an anger that burnt quietly, under control. "Every time I think you have found the limits of your stupidity, you surprise me again. You really are the most intelligent idiot I have ever known in over three thousand years. You've effectively spoiled the White Tower for all of us."

 

"What did you imagine this would do? Strike fear into their hearts so they'd cower in their Tower and do nothing? You've just tipped our hand, and given them an idea of our capability. They might have some fear in them, but they'll be better prepared should any of us wish to do anything in the future. If you were to send anything at all, you would send an army and level them in one blow."

 

"Instead, you've sent one man, and this suggests two things. Either you truly lack any ability when it comes to anything other than your books and rhetoric to the point where it is beyond belief, or you do know better but your minion is a loose cannon and you couldn't control him. As tempted as I am to believe the former, I wouldn't discount the latter because I would hope after three thousand years you would have learnt something. Neither possibility reflects on you well, some would say it could be seen as a... weakness, Elan."

 

Forcing his hands to relax, Duram's face was deadpan save for his eyes, and those eyes glittered with a darkness that he had rarely ever given rein to. Not before his fellows at least. "Still, it is left to us to salvage your stupid mistake. Hopefully it will not drive the Tower's together by making us more visible as their enemies. Go back to entertaining your delusional grandeur amongst your minions, you've done enough damage for one day."

 

Departing the place, he made his way back to the waking world, waking to find Eden beside him. Slipping out of bed, he made his way out of their bedroom to find one of the training lathes stored in the house they currently used. He needed to work his pure frustration at Elan's blunder out of his system. Once again, that fool had made things difficult for everyone else. Yet another advantage lost to rampant stupidity!

 

 

Duram Laddel Cham

Be`lal, The Netweaver

[Marak]

As Rahvin spoke, Aginor, surprisingly, felt himself speaking up. "Hardly, Rahvin. Have you so little knowledge of these White Tower children? They will not see the Shadow striking at them, they will see a madman of the Black Tower trying to destroy them. They will then feel that the Black Tower must be destroyed, at all costs. It is a move not without risk, yet, nonetheless, it is a skillful move. Have you not played shar'ah? Sometimes a piece must be sacrificed, so that the Fisher may be moved to your wishes."

 

As he finished speaking, the man had slipped out of the dream. Aginor sighed, and decided against speaking again. Alliances would have to be made, and many things must be set in motion. He would wait a few moments longer, and then leave the dream..

[Quibby]

Asmodean had always appreciated Elan Morin's thoughts and opinions; the man was the most brilliant philosopher of his Age, and likely any other Age. Even as the entity Osan'gar, the man was still brilliant. At times though, he seemed to be talking down to everybody. You bloody coward! You're only delaying the inevitable. The inevitable. Shaidar Haran.

 

The only warning that he'd had was the sudden disappearance of saidin, a feat that could only be compared to entering one of the Ogier stedding. Then it had appeared. Being the weakest of the Chosen meant that Asmodean always felt a little fear, but it was nothing compared to the terror that Shaidar Haran had brought. That such a creature could command even the Chosen was... unsettling.

 

Bringing himself back to the present, Asmodean listened to Bel'al tear into Osan'gar and his plans for the White Tower, and Aginor's defense. A defense that fell upon deaf ears, Asmodean noticed. Despite being a good general, Bel'al couldn't see the genius in the plan. Of course, a general and an athletic man could not be expected to understand all the subtiltiles that a thinker like Osan'gar was capable.

 

Quietly, Asmodean broke his long silence by saying, "I agree with Aginor. It was a brilliant move. I honestly don't think that your man will succeed against the Tower, but if he is of the so-called Guardians, then there will be no chance of an alliance. But then again, that's the opinion of an artist, not a general." Asmodean had survived the War of Power by playing sides off each other and remaining out of the way. Hopefully, the same strategy would work here.

[Deiria]

Shaidar Haran. It - no, He was gone now. As much she hated to be forced to listen and obey a myrdraal, it made her amused.

Fine, let the Dragon Reborn be under Dark Lord's protection. I wonder what he would say after finding that out she though. She didn't want to be near him right now, anyway. Not that she feared him, or anything. She simply had other plans.

 

The absurdity of the very moment was something unexperienced. A myrdraal keeping the Chosen in his hand and giving orders to them! She just had to laugh! She let others think what ever they wanted, when smiling openly as Duram joined her. But the smile faded faster than a heart beat after hearing what Osan'gar wanted to share with them. His plans to destroy white tower with a angreal was useless and pointless.

 

What a stupid idea!, she thought and probably said it out loud. She didn't have much desires to deal with the Tower, but with that random attack Osan'gar would not gain anything. Duram was right, it only gave troubles to other's and the outcome of this is utterly unpredictable.

 

"You fools!" she said to Aginor and Asmodean "That powerful angreal and the fact Caladesh is too skillful with his powers reveals instantly that this is not just a ordinary mad man or a Black Tower fellow. There aren't many of those precious things lying around, remember? The angreal and Caladesh himself points too directly to us, the Chosen. Surely you don't believe that this so-called-amyrlin haven't noticed us or at least some of us walking free already. And after this attack, she is sure of it"

 

"I think I've had enough of this farce" she snorted loud and left, not after Duram since he was probaly seeking Eden, but else where in the world of Dreams, to the place where she could think her future plans alone and in quiet.

[Matalina]

Semirhage hadn't paid the others any mind until the strange fade appeared in the dream. Shadar Haran was an odd creature to begin with and Semirhage wondered why he was sent with the words of the Great Lord instead of trusting a more natural being. But the Great Lord did not tell Semirhage his plans, and the information of the nae'blis was good news. She hadn't been passed over for the first servant of the Great Lord, she only had to earn the title.

 

Semirhage vowed to herself that she would make it to be nae'blis and prove herself worthy of the title. The meeting was at its end with the Great Lords words spoken and Semirhage let herself shimmer and fade out of the room. It was time to begin plotting and planning for her new title.

 

Semirhage

[Guest Allisa]

One by one she watched them leave, careful to keep her face expressionless ~ but for the first time, in a long time, Lanfear felt like smiling. Not a sly, disdainful smile or an evil grin full of malice but a truly heartfelt smile of pure joy. He is safe, she thought to herself with relief. And the Dark Lord’s protection would ensure he stayed that way until she could convince him to stand beside her. Together they would rule the world.

 

I will be Nae’blis, she thought triumphantly. Who else after all could the Dark Lord choose? Especially after she turned the Dragon Reborne to the Shadow. That would be the deciding factor, she knew. With Demeadred dead the path was clear. She wondered idly why Moghedien had been resurrected and Demeadred allowed to die. With a shrug she dismissed the thought. She would not mourn for Demeadred, that would be pure hypocrisy but still….she wondered….

 

In the meantime she would do as she was told, even if the orders came from a Fade. Her lip curled into a sneer as she waved a hand and the room around her dissolved, reforming around her as she wished. The bedroom was sparsely furnished but immaculately clean, practical woolen dresses and aprons hanging from the pegs. Lanfear regarded the woman asleep in the bed with cold eyes. This plot of Osangar’s had startled her and she did not like to be startled.

 

She awoke the woman by dragging her to her feet with a flow of Air…by her hair. Her screams muffled the woman struggled in midair, hand clawing and feet fighting for purchase. Abruptly Lanfear let her fall to the hard stone floor. The woman’s eyes widened when she saw the Chosen and Lanfear sneered again. There was no true evil in this creature, only greed and jealousy ~ her oaths had been spoken with a naïve tongue. Realizing she would be held to those oaths had come as quite a shock.

 

“You have failed me, Binnia.â€

 

Groveling on the floor Binnia sniffled and gasped, “In…..in what way, Mistress Tinia? I have done all you asked.â€

 

Lanfear sighed and the woman cringed. The pseudonym was just another of Binnia’s games, pretending she served a highly placed Darkfriend instead of a Chosen. Still, if it kept her sane enough to perform her purpose Lanfear would allow the delusion. They both knew the truth after all. She had made certain of that.

 

“I discovered this evening that certain companions of mine have their own plans for the Tower. You have not caught a whiff of these plans, Binnia.†Bending slightly she tipped the cook’s tear stained face up to her, “But you will won’t you?â€

 

Struggling to stifle her sobs the servant nodded helplessly. Lanfear drew her hand away with distaste, “There is a man named Caladesh, a man from the Black Tower.†Letting the words sink in Lanfear seated herself delicately on the bed. “This is what you will do….â€

 

Binnia’s face paled as Lanfear’ smile grew. With a feeling of despair the cook wondered whether she was more afraid of what she had to do….or the sheer joy on the Chosen’s face as she ordered her to the task.

 

Lanfear

Daughter of the Night

I aim to Misbehave

 

OOC: Deliberately vague ;)

[Seiera]

In the back of her mind, Kamarile was growing tired of this play. It was like watching more than half a dozen try to show off their toys. Running a hand through her hair, she suddenly felt her bond to the one power taken from her as the room darkened a little and one overly-pretentious Fade appeared amongst them. She gasped at the sudden, overly-exaggerated entrance and then settled down, thinking to herself about the absurdity of the situation.

 

I can't believe this simple little Fiend has been given command over us. Perhaps the others need one, but does he honestly believe he's going to scare me into being any more obedient than natural? she thought to herself, cracking a half-smile at the irony of her thoughts. Sure, Graendal was one of the more obedient Chosen, but that never stopped her from having her fun when she wanted to.

 

And to think! it told her not to kill the Dragon Reborn. I never kill good prey. I make sure that they stay alive for a very loooong time. Pretty people are much more useful alive. She leaned her head forward onto her palm, restraining herself from rolling her eyes at the melodramatic creature as it disappeared. "Soooo scary.." she muttered to herself when it left. Hoping for some amusement, Kamarile turned her head towards the others and smiled when she was rewarded with a minor argument.

 

Minor to her at least. Everyone seemed to be done with the meeting, judging by the way they all insisted on getting the last word in and leaving. Rubbing her forehead and then continuing the hand through her hair, Kamarile left the dream; waking up in the middle of her silk, swimming pool of a bed, she thought to herself Well then, guess it's time to get a little more done now.

 

Before she went back to a more peaceful sleep than the one before, Kamarile looked over at her "statues". She smiled at one, staring him straight in the eyes as she saw him flinch. Well... after I finish with him in the morning.