Battle Tactics (Everyone)

[Arath Faringal]

Storm Leader Arath Faringal paced the training grounds, his plans rolling around in his mind.  He had known that the training programs needed changing after the first wave of Trollocs in Shienar.  He couldn't believe how sloppy it had been.  There was no reason whatsoever for shadowspawn to get within fifty paces of a fully trained Asha'man, but they had.  Sloppy training.  Arath intended to fix that now.  He intended to fix it every single day until the Asha'man worked together without thought.

 

The announcement had been made the previous evening.  Everyone was to assemble at the training grounds the following morning.  Arath and the other officers had spent a large part of the night preparing the 'battlefield', raising stone manaquins and other targets from the earth.  The trolloc 'army' took up most of the eastern end of the training grounds.  Today, the Asha'man would learn to fight as a cohesive unit.

 

Air and fire amplified his voice, allowing the hundreds of assembled men to hear him with ease.

 

"For the most part, you have all learned how to effeciently kill a single enemy.  We have spent a great deal of time teaching you how to destroy the enemy on your own."  To emphasize his point, Arath spun around and executed attack weaves on the nearest target.  A fist sized fireball streaked toward the nearest 'trolloc', striking it square in the chest, just as the ground erupted beneath it.  Arath turned back to the Asha'man before the thing had finished crumbling apart.  "At Shienar however, it became painfully apparent how lacking your training has been.  The enemy circles overpowered us, and the trolloc hordes actually came within striking range of us.  Why?  Because you lack unity!  You lack discipline!

 

"What will happen the next time we go to battle?  Can we afford to lose another hundred men at the whims of the Forsaken?  We can't.  And I assure you, I will NOT let it happen again."  Arath paused for a moment, letting his message sink in to those assembled before him.  "You will be learning battle tactics today.  All of you will learn them together, else you will all die together in the next battle we have to face."

 

Arath continued his pacing in front of the group.  "It is of the utmost importance that you work together, not seperately.  If one man falters in his commitment to his task, all those around him may die for his mistake.  We will spend most of this day working on this.  After today, it will become a part of your every day lessons.  Am I understood?!"  The thundering sound of more than a thousand men saluting him fist to chest was sufficient response.  "Good.  Let us begin."

 

OOC:  Okay people.  If you want in on this (and you'd sure better ...) Post your arrival and reactions to Arath's speech.  In the next post, I'll start with the explanations of the Asha'man tactics.  I expect to see them used in our next battle ...

[Sieve]

Valeran had arrived at the field eager to hear what Arath had to say.  If rummors were true then he would enjoy todays lesson.  Being a lancer for so many years and leading troops, this was right up his alley. 

 

Valeran gave Arath his full attention as the Attack Leader addressed the troops.  Arath was young compared to himself yet his voice held an air of command.  It had taken Valeran some getting used to, he went from being in charge of a squad of Lancers to being a regular old grunt.  Even so Valeran could appreciate the need for training and discipline, he would expect nothing less.

 

Valeran recalled that fateful day and the aftermath.  It could not happen again.  He was happy to see that their shortcomings from that battle were being addressed.  Something that Brent refused to do, almost as if he wanted failure.  The Illianer had been too focused on placing blame on others instead of rectifying their problems.  Valeran's respect for Arath and Covai had gone up another notch.

 

Valeran Kertovni

Dedicated

 

---

 

Geirrin was one of the last to arrive on the field to hear what Arath had to say.  He had become lax over the last couple of months which was unlike him.  Usually he was energetic but he had fallen into a rut.  He had even managed to lose the swagger that most young Asha'man develop.  His daily beatings from Brent had taken the wind from his sails.  Even the man's death and urinating on his mangled corpse did not lift his spirits.  Geirrin drank more, gambled more, and let his training slip.  He was beginning to doubt his usefulness as one of the Dragon's weapons.  Geirrin loved wielding Saidin but he had no wish to become a martyr.  Part of him wished he was back sailing on the sea of storms or navigating the fingers of the dragon. 

 

Geirrin half heartedly placed his hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn. He would not even have turned out for this if he wasn't ordered to do so.  Arath voice startled Geirrin so that he nearly jumped.  Had he been paying more attention he would have noticed the Attack Leader channeling.  The seriousness of Arath's words had a sovering effect on Geirrin, his full attention was on what the Attack Leader had to say.

 

As Arath went on Geirrin began to feel guilty, since that horrible defeat he had not taken any action to improve himself.  With Brent gone it seemed as though the Black Tower was going to take a new approach to training.  Arath's words struck home, Geirrin even found himself saluting enthusiastically with the rest of the men.

 

Geirrin Hale

Asha'man

[Kalthandrix]

Vykor has been standing at the edge of the Traveling Grounds for some time, unsure if he should head over to see if his cabin was still standing, report in...his orders has not been specific whom he was to report to. He had wandered far enough from the ground so that anyone opening a Gateway would not cut him in two, but so far no one had arrived and nobody seemed interested in coming over to meet him.

 

Thinking that it would be best to go to his cabin first and freshen up, he began strolling in that direction. Other men in black coats walked by with a purpose or sauntered past with an air of haughty nobility depending upon if they wore no pins upon their collar or if they carried the sword and dragon.

 

As he walked, he tried to compose his report in his head, but soon found himself wondering where the sudden rush of people was going that he found himself with.

 

'S'not like I had much else to do for now', he thought and allowed himself to be carried along.

 

He arrived upon the edge of the training grounds, set up with various training dummies and a large formation of men standing in ordered ranks. Vykor himself kept to the edge of the training field and did not join any of the formations, but watched and listened to the gathered men talking among themselves for a time. The appearance of a single figure at the front of the formation stilled tongues and then a booming voice began to address the assembled men.

 

The upbraiding of the Asha'man and their fighting abilities in Shienar...he had heard a little of it but had been doing other tasks as directed by the Lord Dragon, so it was mostly just a bunch of hot air being spewn about right up until the end of the tirade. Vykor could not believe that this fellow was berating the assembled Soldiers, Dedicated, and full Asha'man because they lacked unity and discipline! He almost laughed aloud, but decided it might not be the best time for such.

 

If this fellow was the leader of these men, Vykor could not see who it was and was sure he did not know him, then obviously he was yelling at these fellows for something he himself has failed to instill in these men and had received an ear full already from whomever he reported to for the failure at Shienar. Unity was a trait that must be fostered from the top of the ranks down to the low, not mandated to men standing in formation.

 

A good number cheered the fellow’s speech. Sycophants and other boot-lickers, but from the back of the formation Vykor could see several men grumbling or whispering to their neighbor, an angry look set upon their faces that was hidden from the fellow at the front.

 

[Kura]

Sereth stood near the back of the bunch, checking out the men who chose to stand there. As Arath spoke he felt a personal spark of guilt, and more than a touch of memory of Shienar. Lightning...thicker than a man, slaughtering whole squads. He shuddered at the thought, and acknowledged Arath's point whole heartily, even if he did have a couple suggestions for the man.

 

He was broken out of his thoughts by the grumbling around him. To his surprise it was full Asha'man who grumbled the loudest. Sereth was at Shienar, he was convinced he knew the face of every man who went with him. None of those men were present. "You are all fools who don't realize the weakness we had. We weren't beaten, we were slaughtered. The moment we did the most damage was that last minute, before Covai pulled us back, and we channeled ourselves nearly to death. That is not how it should be. We are a military organization, yet we act as if we are all trained assassins, arrogant, invulnerable assassins."

 

A few of the men looked surprised at his cold tone, knowing or at least having heard of the Asha'man who would rather read a book than grapple with Saidin. Those men knew how friendly and open Sereth was, and how wise. Others looked at him with rage, others embarrassed. None rose against them, he was the only one present to have participated in a battle... It gave him some kind of seniority, or at the very least a hardness that people didn't like to challenge.

 

One particular person stood out to the Asha'man, a man he didn't reconize. This was surprising, Sereth could often be found training or hanging out at the traveling grounds. Sereth had a good education, that much he flaunted, but a much more seldom talent was his emerging ability to read people as readily as words on a page. He wasn't the innocent student he was when he first came to the farm... Something he had mixed feelings about.

 

All of that was a discussion for a later time, between him and his journals. This man was a cause of concern at this moment. He knew the type, one who despised those who readily stepped in line, those who played the game. Sereth had personally always had mixed feelings about them, at once admiring their desire for freedom and originality, while laughing at their attempts to be 'edgy' and stand out. He'd have to talk to this one who stood at the edge of the grounds... Get a true measure of him.

 

After all, it wouldn't be the first time that he'd been wrong. Just one of them.

[Jehaine]

Martyn walked to the central training grounds where a meeting had been called by the new Black Tower leadership. Asha'men, Soldiers and Dedicated alike could be seen gathering, and unless he missed his guess there were also quite a number of civilians present trying to catch a glimpse of the person leading the Tower after the demise of Brent and his henchmen. The chain of command had been dealt a strong blow, but it had also purged the faulty links from it, and from the remains a new, stronger one would be built, he was sure of it.

 

Still, he knew of his block, and was aware that whatever chance of actively participating in the exercises to come would be slim. He had not even considered staying behind though, at times like these it was important that people see the Tower unified, that everyone in it had the ability to move as a single unit regardless of rank, a weapon poised to strike where the Dragon ordered it. Though he was still a Soldier, he believed his reputation as the resident weapon instructor gave him a certain amount of respect with the men, which in turn meant he would need to act accordingly.

 

Noticing Arath a ways off, he listened to the speech the man made, sounding much like a drill sergeant in the army. And perhaps, that was what the Asha'men needed the most right now: Someone to actively lead and expect others to follow, not the almost lazy casualness where Brent had expected others to do all the work for him. Arath and Covai, he believed, would be the examples showing the people under them what to strive for, a glimpse of the weapons they were told to become.

 

Even though saidin still eluded him -- a status quo he was uncomfortably comfortable with -- he did notice the references to Shienar in Arath's speech. It made sense, it had been the most recent encounter and therefore the one that was still fresh in everyone's memory. And given that the massive amount of targets that were made supposedly represented Trollocs, perhaps his role in this gathering wasn't as much on the sidelines as he thought it'd be. Walking up to Arath, he made a suggestion.

 

- "I've... probably got the longest experience fighting Shadowspawn, if you need someone to explain their tactics, just give the word."

 

He talked in a hushed tone, careful not to be overheard by anyone else. Though Arath was most likely the only person alive other than himself that knew of his true age, and as such would understand the full scope of his comment of having the longest experience, he was still very careful about where he coule be overheard. It had been the reason he had made Arath swear an Oath on salvation and rebirth not to tell after all, and he didn't want to have the man get caught between a rock and a hard place if questions were going to be asked.

 

 

Martyn

Trying to help out

[TaiDashan]

Tai sat stiffly on the stone stool he had pulled from the earth, and waited for the rest of the men to arrive. He had walked with Arath to the Training Grounds as directed and sat lost in thought. He was not however, pondering why he was supposed to be here...

 

The last two nights he had spent awake when not tortured by nightmares of Aria's death. After the first night of waking up screaming, he had woven a silence ward around his room, tying it off for the night. No use waking Arath.

 

Her death haunted him. He knew it was his fault for allowing her to stay. She had grown angry and dared him to make her leave when he had suggested it. But he should have made her, somehow...

 

Men started to trickle in and Tai turned his blank stare on them. It hardly registered that the men were there, let alone that their numbers were growing. Numbly he allowed the stool to unravel as he stood, allowing for more room behind him.

 

Her name burned like molten gold in his mind, blanking out anything around him. Arath had expressed his concern for Tai, but Tai had mumbled something non-committal to him and Arath seemed content for now to let that suffice. Lack of sleep, combined with her death, made him into one like the dead.

 

Arath's Power amplified voice crashed home and brought him out of his reverie. He turned his numb stare to Arath as his commanding words poured over him.

 

"For the most part, you have all learned how to effeciently kill a single enemy...At Shienar however, it became painfully apparent how lacking your training has been." Arath had told Tai some of Shienar, and Sereth had told him enough to fill in the rest. It had been a massacre. "you lack unity! You lack discipline!..." Tai found himself nodding woodenly. From what he had been told Arath was right.

 

~If only we had been there to die!~ Howled Chaos. It was the first time he had spoken since Aria's death, and Tai was shocked by his sentiment. It was dark and fit his mood.

 

"You will be learning battle tactics today.  All of you will learn them together, else you will all die together in the next battle we have to face." Once again, Chaos lamented darkly about the fact that he wished to die.

 

"...After today, it will become a part of your every day lessons.  Am I understood?!" The sound of thousands of salutes compelled him to do the same. He was slightly distracted, but for the first time since her death, not by thoughts of Aria. Not exactly. A new thought had blossomed in his mind...

 

The Shadow had Tainted Saidin... It was the Taint that had Driven Wulwind mad...It was that madness that had killed his beloved Aria. He would learn to slaughter the Shadow's forces as he had Wulwind. He would harden himself into a blade sharper than any Power wrought weapon...

 

At any cost...

[Arath Faringal]

"Your first lesson, will be something that I hope is very familiar."  Arath paced up and down the lines, power amplified voice still ringing out.  "All of you learned this is soldiers.  You will form your battle lines.  Healers will be in the back, lending combat support in weaker parts of the line until they are needed.  Soldiers and Dedicated, you form the front ranks.  Every fifth man will form a solid barrier of air, floating a few paces above the ground and overlapping his weaves with the shields on either side of him.  There should be no reason for an arrow or spear to reach you."  Arath noticed a shamed look pass over the faces of many of the Shienar survivors.  Few of them had bothered to use air shields, assuming that the fortifications they had made would suffice.  As a result, many had taken injuries from arrows or thrown weapons.  Too many had died simply from that one mistake.

 

"The rest of you," continued Arath, "will focus on destructive weaves.  Initially, use fireballs and lightning if you have the strength for it.  Cause as much devestation on the enemy as you can from a distance.  If they are foolish enough to come closer, change your weaves.  Turn the earth itself against them.  Spikes, pitfalls, ... whatever you can manage.

 

"If they make it close enough for you to begin to pick individual targets for your weaves, begin killing in the most burtal but efficient way you can.  Cause them to explode, or combust, rend the earth beneath their feet.  Quickly shift your weaves from one target to the next, working with the men on either side of you to make sure nothing gets close.  And remember to shield yourself from metal and bone fragments.  Being killed by a piece of the trolloc you just ripped to pieces would be embarassing to say the least."  He noticed another uncomfortable ripple through the survivors.  Far too many of them had forgotten such a basic rule, and had neglected to cover themselves from their own blasts, ending up drenched in the acrid blood of trollocs and pierced by pieces of armor.  One soldier had died after being showered in the blood of a Fade he had destroyed.

 

"Although all of you carry a melee weapon, you shouldn't have to use it in a major battle.  If the enemy comes closer than ten paces, it is time to break their advance.  Those of you maintaining the protective barriers will lower them to the ground and bar the way forward.  You will only have a brief respite though.  The purpose is more to allow the enemy to gather up as thick as they can before unleashing a rolling ring of earth and fire.  All of you will work in tandem, overlapping your weaves and pushing them forward in a wave of fire and death.  Keep it up until the enemy retreat, then switch back to your longer ranged weaves."

 

Shifting the focus of his discussion, Arath continued.  "Asha'man.  You are the elite troops, the most advanced.  Therefore, you will be expected to deal the most devestation.  Where the soldiers and Dedicated rend the earth, you will break it.  Where they burn a trolloc to the ground, you will incinerate an entire fist to dust.  Unleash molten earth upon them.  Let the lightnings fall as rain.  And most importantly, protect those of lesser rank.  You have more freedom to choose your actions, but do not use that freedom irresponsibly."

 

Returning to the front and center of the group, Arath surveyed the crowd.  "Disappointed in what I've told you?  Maybe so.  This is exactly the same thing that you've been taught before.  But it seems it didn't take last time around.  We'll see that it does this time.  This is only our most basic method of combat.  It will need to be adapted for circumstances and enemy tactics, and we will work on that later, but this is our basis.  If you do not know it, you will fail.  Let's get started."

 

He waved his arm over the trolloc army arranged over the training grounds.  "Since these trollocs are unable to move and advance, we will go through the waves in reverse.  Form battle ranks ten paces in front of the enemy line!"

 

As the men scrambled into position, Arath grimaced to himself.  He disliked this method of training, but it was necessary this time.  Even if the Asha'man had worked in perfect unison in Shienar they would have lost, overwhelmed by the Dreadlord circles.  But not nearly so many of them would have died.  As the last of the men fell into position, Arath walked forward and joined the line himself.  Channeling air, he wove the first of the protective barriers that would save them from any projectile weapons, placing it several paces in front of the line and curving it up gently.  As quickly as the men could count off, more and more barriers joined it, overlapping and providing an impenetrable wall of defense.

 

"On my mark, raise the barrier and unleash the rolling ring of earth and fire!"  He felt Saidin surge up in the men all around him.  "NOW!"

 

OOC:  Alrighty, sorry this took so long.  Post more speach reactions and then go through the 'battle'.  Remember that you're working in reverse order from a normal battle though, and adapt your weaves to match those of NPC's on either side of you.  If you're a healer, you're still doing battle weaves, though you can heal some idiot who still doesn't shield himself. :)

 

So get to it.  I want the training grounds to look like a freshly (if badly) plowed field by the end of this :D

[TaiDashan]

"Your first lesson, will be something that I hope is very familiar...." Arath's voice continued on as Tai tried hard to listen to the man berate the Asha'man for their lack of discipline. It was not disrespect or lack of conviction that caused his lack of focus, rather an abundance of distraction. Chaos continually cackled darkly in the back of his mind, gleefully reveling in the death and destruction spoken of.

 

Tai had taken his thoughts of Aria and locked them away. Pushed them into the cold and stony prison of determination to no longer let himself be affected. Had he been more self aware, he would have noticed a similarity between his current mindset and that of himself prior to Arath's warning. The warning  had come while still a dedicated, pushing himself harder than anyone else...dangerously so.

 

He would push himself again. He could no longer afford to be soft. He would hone himself to a razors edge and beyond. He would not fail.

 

Once before he had pushed himself to this limit, training with the resolve to never be broken in the face of battle. To be a tool used with good purpose in the name of the Dragon and the Light. He held no illusions that he would single-handedly defeat the Dark One, but given the opportunity his failure would not be for lack of effort.

 

The death of Aria and the actions of the Storm Leader Tenim Wulwind, had driven him to the brink of madness. Chaos laughed harder at that thought and muttered darkly about him already being there. He had pulled himself back from that brink by promising himself he would perfect himself in the flames of his agony.

 

He would be forged to perfection, he would not fail again against the forces of the Shadow.

 

"Asha'man...." Arath's words broke his reverie and eyes now stony found his friend's. "...Unleash molten earth upon them.  Let the lightnings fall as rain.  And most importantly, protect those of lesser rank..." Tai nodded, he was right. The Asha'man were Guardians. They were the tools that the Dragon would use if he were to emerge victorious at Tar'mon Gai'don.

 

"Form battle ranks ten paces in front of the enemy line!"

 

Tai grimly took his place, opting to leave the healing to those more experienced. True he had been told his strength in healing had been remarkable, but he would attend should the need arise. For now, he would be the weapon he had been forged to be...

[Kalthandrix]

“You there!” Vykor heard a voice call out and turned to look for its source. A black-coated man with both Dragon and Silver Sword upon his collar was making his way around the back of the formation. The fellow’s eyes were upon him which made the younger man realize that he was perhaps the only Dedicated not in the assembled formation.

 

“You too good to fall in with everyone else, Dedicated?” came the fellow’s sneering remark as he drew closer.

 

“No, sir,” he replied with a salute. “The Lord Dragon gave me leave to return to the Black Tower for a time to…rest. I only just arrived and have not been assigned to a file, so I did not want to break ranks, Asha’man.”

 

“Well, you look rested enough for now, what with you cooling your heels while others are working. Fall into the front rank and follow along with the training or I will take you in hand personally if you need some more coddling.”

 

With a direct order he could very well not disobey unless he wanted to set about flashing the paper the Dragon Reborn had given him, Vykor saluted again and moved with alacrity while the ranks were reforming into the battle line.

 

As he took hold of saidin, the raging torrent of fire and ice that raged within like a storm seeking to shatter the world, he was at the same time filled with life that was the sweetest joy he had ever known. The struggle with it was now exhilarating because while fighting to hold and control saidin a man knew he was alive. He was not the fifth man, but wove an air shield none-the-less before readying himself to begin his combat weaves. Another Dedicated and a Soldier were situated upon his left and right respectively and both held the Power as well, though if they were holding as much as they could, Vykor was the stronger by a good margin. With this in mind, he extended the weave of his shield to cover both of these men as well.

 

“You two,” he said looking to the men on either side of him, “focus your weaves in on churning the ground with Earth. I will take care of the flames.” He had met few with his own powerful affinity for Fire, and as much as it made painful memories of his friend surge to the surface of his thoughts, he did not allow him to wallow in that pain. As they came, he fed them into the Flame within the Void. As he wove the flows of pure Fire, he only barely registered the bitter taste of ashes upon his tongue while his thoughts hovered in the stillness of his mind and awaiting the command to unleash hell.

 

“NOW!” came the order, made into a booming command by use of the One Power.

 

Without hesitation, Vykor let the flows he had held in check surge forth into a wall of pure flames that burned white hot with the power of his talent. He kept the wall low, no more than chest high, but was able to weave the conflagration into a line that stretched for well over twenty paces to either side of his position. He felt that he could go further, but kept it in check.

 

The men as his side and back set the very earth to roiling with their destructive weaves, sending whole sections of the training ground to buck, explode, and churn while his wall of fire crept forward in time with their arch of destruction. He was sure that the dirt his weave touched would be seared to molten glass and the stone of the fake Trollocs turn to slag as well.

 

As he channeled, he was mindful of keeping his shield of air in front of himself and the two men on his flanks, but maintaining the two separate weaves was not as hard as it used to be and he was sure he could manage at least another at the same time if necessary.

 

[Arani Lepenque Aes Sedai]

(OOC: I fast forward since I didn't join in the beginning)

 

 

There was a loud shout of "NOW!" from Arath just as Seyneru managed to get somewhere in the front.  Immediately, Seyneru wove a shield of Air in front of him with all his strength, which was not very great at the moment because he had only just started channeling several weeks back, but he was gaining strength at an alarming rate, but his skill was dismally low.  But he had enough to make a shield great enough to support himself as the earth in front exploded as they rent the earth.

 

Joining those who attacked, Seyneru suddenly knelt and jammed his fist into the ground, weaving Earth in as large an amount as he could, then forced the weave outwards in front of him, again and again, retrieving it back delicately but fast so as not to make the ground under him buckle.  There was a heave in front of him as the earth heaved and rushed out forwards, dying after a few dozen paces.  Fortunately the weave did not require much skill, so he was able to weave another weave of the same type to cause more earth ripples as the others rent it.

 

Suddenly he became concious of his shield of Air buckling under the impact of debris of earth battering it again and again.  Releasing his weave of ripples, he quickly rewove his shield again, this time maintaining it as he grabbed a nearby long wooden stick.  Using it as a staff, he whirled it around his head and jammed it onto the ground, with trembled.  Then, several paces out, the ground erupted in flames as fire burst out, searing the ground black as heat blasted out, making him step back a pace.  With the remainder of his strength, drawing onto so much Power his head hurt, he wove a wall that took away the heat.  But maintaining three weaves at once was incredibly difficult, even for someone who was increasing in strength as he was.

 

Soon he was gasping for breath, and leaning heavily onto the makeshift staff that he had picked up, hand stretched out as if to hold the shield of Fire in place.

 

Hopefully they could take a break soon.

 

Seyneru Yoshan

Crafter of the Five

Worked Out

[Asfaloth]

   Despite a late night with very little sleep Dedicated Nakor Zorrander woke from habit more than an hour before dawn.  He braced himself and seized hold of Saidin, fighting with all he had to keep the contents of his stomach from covering the floor.  He held steady as the Taint threatened once more to overtake him, relishing the fight for survival that made him feel truly alive in a way nothing else could.

   Early on, while still just a newly-arrived Soldier, he'd noticed two disturbing things about using the One Power.  First, seizing Saidin took time.  True, with practice that time could be reduced to almost nothing but there was still a delay, a delay that could one day prove costly.  Secondly, any other male channeler nearby would feel it as soon as one seized hold of Saidin, ruining the element of surprise, a weapon in and of itself that could be used as effectively as any other by one with the wisdom to wield it.

   Recognizing these two shortcomings of channeling as weaknesses he refused to accept, he found a way to train them away.  He'd started seizing the Source first thing in the morning and fighting to maintain his hold on it as long as he thought wise then letting go.  Then he'd rest for as little as was necessary and start again.  It was a difficult and painful training regimen but he'd noticed definite progress as he was now able to maintain his hold longer and recover quicker than he ever had before.  Such progress encouraged him to continue despite the warnings he'd been given that such prolonged exposure to the Taint would destroy his mind.  It was a risk he was willing to take to be forged into a weapon for the Dragon without blemish or weakness.

   Yesterday evening an announcement had been made that every man serving in the Tower was to report to first thing in the morning to the Training Grounds for a lesson in battle tactics.  Curiosity getting the better of him, and needing an excuse to practice his stealth skills, he had woven Folded Light to make himself invisible and gone there to get a preview of what was to come.  Unfortunately, he was not skilled enough yet to perfect the weave and he had been caught before he'd gotten anywhere near the Training Grounds.  He'd spent the rest of the night practicing the weave on unsuspecting woodland creatures.

   After breakfast he went through his morning workout, striving to keep his body fit to survive the strain of channeling.  Then he made his way back to the Training Grounds, anxious to return to training after more than six months with almost no training or instruction at all.

   It was a short walk, yet by the time he arrived his anger was seething just below the surface.  In fact, were he not feeding the fury into the Void he would have lost all control of himself just as he used to when he was younger.  Though, the results now that he could channel would be much more devastating.  He knew the looks he received from those he saw were to be expected and something he would simply have to get used to, but it was a harsh adjustment.

   For over six months he'd had the obedience of Soldiers, the loyalty and admiration of his fellow Dedicated, and the respect of Asha-man.  That respect had been hard-earned but it gained him unofficial sole authority and responsibility of the contingent in Tear.  but now he got scorn and disdain from one and all.  From the Asha-man he expected it, at least until he had a chance to prove himself to them.  The Soldiers still saluted the sword on his collar but it was obvious to all that they resented taking orders from a scrawny sixteen-year old.  And the other Dedicated assumed the lack of a dragon on his collar after so long wearing the sword was due to some deficiency in him rather than the training-absent exile Brent had sentenced him to.

   But he fed all the anger and bitterness into the Void, letting none of it show on his face and holding himself aloof from those around him.  He vowed once more to train harder than ever to be the best weapon the Lord Dragon would have in his arsenal, knowing that he respect of his peers would come in time.

   When they had all assembled Storm Leader Arath Faringal began his speech, his voice filling the entire valley as it was amplified by weaves of Fire and Air.  It seemed that they hadn't just been beaten at Shienar, they'd been devastated, the survivors barely escaping their fellows' fate.  He'd heard about the incident of course, but he hadn't imagined it had really been as bad as he now learned it was.  But to hear the Storm Leader speak, it seemed that they'd all forgotten every bit of their training.  Why, fighting in ranks to learn to protect each other and keep enemies from getting through the cracks was one of the first things Soldiers were taught.  Which they would apparently be going over again today.

  Though he'd received little training as yet in the art of Healing Nakor moved to the back row then raised a platform of Earth to stand on so he could see over the heads of those in front of him.  Arath hadn't given him orders to do anything of the sort, but if he were to be effective in this 'battle' he'd need something to compensate for his diminutive height.  He planned to be the best weapon that the Dragon had but he also planned to use his mind in the process and standing in the back of the crowd with a platform raised above their heads would allow him an advantage to feed and develop the building of strategies and tactics that he could then share with the officers.  Besides, if questioned, he would tell them that he was training to be a Healer someday, it was the truth after all, and sharing his real reason would just have him accused of cowardice, a thing that couldn't possibly be any farther from the truth.

  He raised a Shield of Air in front of his fellows, covering a hole where ten Soldiers were stupidly lined up without any Dedicated to bolster their power.  On Arath's command Nakor sent weaves of Earth and Fire, churning the ground and sending it out into the first ranks of manikins.  Eventually the ground for about a hundred yards in front of them looked like a volcano had poured lava over it.

  But they didn't stop then.  Nakor switched tactics and started picking off individual targets, just as Arath had commanded.  The first he hit with a fireball, arcing over the heads of his comrades to hit the manikin square in the chest.  He wove Earth to hit the one beside it with spikes from beneath its feet.  He used Air to slice the head off another, and then he saw the Shield in front of him falter.  He refocused his attention on his weave to shield the Soldiers.

 

 

OOC: I hesitate to go too far into the 'battle' in just one post when it's already so long.  Thought it'd be better to let others write some of it.

[Arani Lepenque Aes Sedai]

Seyneru had abandoned his three-pronged attack with fire and ripples, and instead was now weaving a weave of Air and Fire.  Flame shot from his hands with unbridled fury, passing his shield from the inside and burning target after stone target to slag.  Other less compact earthen targets were simply burnt or blasted to ash and floated gently down.  But because of his earlier exhaustion and also because of his weakness in Air, he found that if he was to keep himself upright, without a staff, though he still held it, he would need to channel at most half of what he could normally draw upon.

 

With such a limitation, his flames died out whenever they travelled to far, and he could only target nearby objects, which were fast running out because they were stationary.  There were only so many targets that Arath and company could create at night, and they certainly wouldn't be creating any now while they were destroying, even if it could make any differences, which it most probably wouldn't, if the whole Black Tower was destroying them, like now.

 

Changing his weave now, he wove balls of Fire and thrust them at the targets, throwing them up into the air before they curved down and hit targets, exploding.  With his height and build, he could throw farther than many other people, especially when he was standing in front.  His fireballs went further than his bars of flame, but they still exploded relatively near to him if they did not hit something first.  They were white in the intensity of the flame, and when they exploded, they did so with great force, leaving craters in the ground below whenever they did so.

 

Seyneru Yoshan

Crafter of the Five

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