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DRAGONMOUNT

A WHEEL OF TIME COMMUNITY
jwillis7

Rand vs Jaime Lannister

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this is dumb, cant we just agree that Rand kicks ass, and can beat anyone.  I can not believe anyone would disagree, if they read WOT, but anyway, who the heck comes up with this garbage?

 

I did vote on every computer at my school: there like 45.

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And it is official!!! After 2 hours past the closing time... (methinks they were hoping jaime to come back THEN close it)... Rand, and his many fans, have pulled through for us! Final score

 

Rand Al'Thor 50%  (15407 votes)

Jaime Lannister 50% (15227 votes)

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Poll's closed! The final results...

 

Rand Al'Thor .....15,407

Jaime Lannister...15,227

 

Votes were being counted for approx. 2.5 hours after the "deadline..." but no matter, even though both Suduvu and GRRM did writeups in Jaime's favor, it's Rand by 180 votes!

 

Way to represent WOT's awesomeness, everybody!

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Just so you know RJ, we got your back.

 

A gateway opened, Jahar stepped through and looked down at the badly injured Lannister ...... "Kneel, before The Dragon Reborn ....or be knelt"

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A gateway opened, Jahar stepped through and looked down at the badly injured Lannister ...... "Kneel, before The Dragon Reborn ....or be knelt ..."

 

It's so F'n good to have bragging rights.

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Yeah, as long as we don't have to weather calls for "RECOUNT! RECOUNT!"

 

What would be the Internet equivalent of a hanging chad?

 

Sorry, GRRM, I'll pick up your next installment of A Song of Ice and Fire if it ever comes out, but you've got nothing on WOT. I'm not sure I've ever re-read any of ASIoF except for perhaps A Game of Thrones... 'nuff said.

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Looks like Rand pulled it out! Take that you foul Lannisters!

 

Be sure to read GRRM's write up. It is awsomeness. Of course he has Rand losing, but that is to be expected. He even pays tribute to RJ, bless him. *tips his hat in GRRM's direction*

 

 

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From one of the last comments, not sure u can heal yourslef, even if u find some fancy weave like that :P but still its a nice read

 

 

Closing the book he had been reading, Rand Al'Thor yawned and channeled his lukewarm wine hot again. He had been trying to unnerve himself after realizing what he had been doing. killing other men for an audience? He grimaced in disgust, and looked to wherre his heron-marked sword lay at the foot of his bed, which had been carefully polished by the servants. Cleaning it couldn't block out the image of blood smeared across Laman's blade clung in the back of his mind, a new curse that he bound to himself. Barely shifting his eyes, he turned his attention to Callandor. Reaching through it to grab the Source, no sickness coming to him this time, he found comfort and remembered that it was the key to saving the world. Or rather, his world.

He began to sink back into his chair, but a soft knock came from his door. Another yawn cracking his jaw, and a voice at the door called out, "The fight is about to begin." He listened as he heard the footsteps echo down the hall.

With a sigh, he rose and buckled on his belt, smiling at the buckle engraved with the sinuous form of a dragon, remembering that day long ago when Aviendha had given it to him.

He chuckled at that thought. How things had changed. Then he turned his mind to the task at hand. Taking up his things, he made his way to the door. It was time to end this madness.

--

Jaime sneered as the small man slinked back into his room down the hall, the stench of the unwashed wretch still filling his nose. He turned the object he had received over in his hand. What had he called it? He thought it was a 'Terror Angle' or some nonsense like that.

It sure didn't look fearsome, just a small, plain orb of some odd material, light yet somehow very hard. And this was supposed to help him? Unlikely. He looked to his sword and smiled darkly. That was all he needed.

--

The gates swung out into the large arena, the unoiled hinges creaking loadly. Rand put a hand to his brow to shield his eyes from the blinding sun. As his eyes adjusted, he strode out to the roaring din of the watching crowd. Crazed, blood thirsty savages, to the very last.

He marked that last thought, though, as he scanned the people sitting high in their seats above the arena. He spotted a man that had a hat much like Mat's, but with clothes as worn out as that, he crushed any hopes that it might be him. He knew Matrim Cauthon, and Matrim Cauthon wouldn't wear those rags. That man had a look of indifference to this, as if he had been dragged here, probably by the small woman who kept looking back at him as they got to their seats. She certainly looked excited!

Continueing his scan, he saw more people, looks of indifference spread across their faces, most woman, although occasionally he saw a man with a face of stone looking out at the stadium, or an elderly man who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in the stands.

Suddenly, someone caught his eye. There was a woman with short, red hair amongst a group of rowdy men. She whispered to the woman who sat next to her, who sported the same red hair as she did. Maidens of the Spear? the thought came to mind, but he quickly damped it down. It was silly, and he knew he was wasting time. Looking forward, he saw his opponent, clad in golden armor, a well-forged sword resting easily in his hand., his other arm missing a hand. He felt a sting of sympathy, unconsciously clenching his own missing hand. Sighing, he focused.

It was time to start.

Unsheathing his sword, Rand strode forward to meet his adversary. A pouch dangled from the belt that was strapped around his waist. He could see the man's eyes sparkle through his helmet's eyeslits with a light of what seemed to be eagerness, which gave him pause. Is that what he had looked like in earlier battles? Eager?

Pushing it from his mind, he nodded to his adversary, who nodded back. Jaime Lannister, he remember him being named by the servants. Remembering another thing he heard of him, he galnced around behind him, then saw a shadow hunched over in the shadows of the opposite side. A dwarf of a man, he heard that this man was cunning to the core. Even if that was an overstatement, he in mind to look out for him.

 

He heard a voice call out from the stand to the side of the arena, and he wasted no time. Springing forward, he thrust out his sword in Kingfisher Circles the Pond, which was easily parried by Jaime, who jabbed forward in a form rand was unfamiliar with. He met it with Lightning of Three Prongs, then thrust out with the Swallow Rides the air, which was parried by something reminiscent of Ribbon in the Air, and yet again Jaime came at him with unknown forms.

Steeling himself, Rand knew this would be no easy fight. Finding the Void, he kept fighting, relying only on his blade. The Rose unfolds became Unfolding the Fan, which became Water Flows Downhill, which came into Watered Silk. And still, not one blow had been struck.

Amusement slid across the Void. He hadn't fought in a long while, and he had forgotten the rush. He began to fall deeper into the void, finding a pattern to his enemy's attacks and parries, which were much like th forms he learned from Lan. It seemed that his opponent had learned his style as well, for he seemed to be falling into a comfortable pace as well.

Glancing at the warrior's face, puzzlement slid across the Void. Jaime had a look of impatience. Perhaps he hadn't expected the fight to draw out like this. At that thought, he reasoned that this had gone on for many minutes. Shrugging it off, he continued his dance, moving thorugh the forms against the Lannister.

--

Jaime continued to glare at Al'Thor boy. How could someone as young as he be so good? A smirk crept across his face as he remembered how he can't be much younger than himself. But still, at this rate they would both tire out before the end. Pushing past his pride, he decided that perhaps it was time to shake things up.

At a signal to Tyrion, he broke off from Rand, who showed a sign of confusion for once on his face. He caught a flash in the roaring crowd, and da wicked smile crossed his face. He saw more flashes, and knew it would be over soon.

--

Rand, who had grabbed a firm hold of the void once more, caught sight of each flash, and even out of the corner of his eye he could see crystal clear the crossbows beaded on him. He quickly turned back to Jaime, pretending not to notice, steeling his face. Floating in the Void, he reached out to saidin…

And found nothing. He could see it, like a blazing fire scolding his back, but he couldn’t feel it. The Void shattered, and panic flooded into him. Jaime must have seen the look on his face, for a grin spidered across his face. Then he knew. Taking a glance down to the pouch at Jaime’s belt, he could suddenly feel the power of the ter’angreal hidden deep inside. He didn’t dwell on it though, as he heard the sound of crossbows let fly. Clawing at the Void, he dove to the side, the act bringing a sickening pain to his side as his unhealed wounds began to open up. It flew across the Void, and he quickly got up from the ground.

The crowd hushed for a second at the sight of the pincushioned ground where Rand was standing, but not for long. A renewed roar arose, both of excitement and a lesser bit of outrage, which he noticed came from the two red-haired women and the man with the hat. They all stood, the two women picking something up from the ground in front of them, sunlight glinting off sharp spearpoints, and that man hoisted a spear himself, a black shaft sporting a blade that could have belonged to a wicked short sword. He saw more people get up, hardened men in armor who brandished swords and lances, and climbed down into the arena. About a dozen red-haired women followed suit, black veils wrapped around their face, holding short spears and raw-hide bucklers. Aiel, Rand thought. He would never truly get away from the Maidens as long as he lived.

He saw two others climb down as well, and at once he recognized Mat, and… the Daughter of the Nine Moons? The small woman had a dagger in her hand, eagerness spreading across her face, but he saw Mat push her aside, putting a word into to her. She frowned, and with his heightened senses Rand could hear her spout a foreign curse and made some odd hand signals up to someone he couldn’t see in the crowd. Her frown deepened after a second, most likely from a response, and crawled up the side of the arena and into the crowd to watch.

Mat came over to join him, an exasperated frown on his face. “Flaming woman,” he muttered to Rand, who clasped his shoulder and gave him a comforting smile, which was returned with a halfhearted curse as he went over to hold off a group of warriors who had come down from the stands, where chaos seemed to reign as blood-thirsty people roared and cheered or carnage. He saw the Maidens form a circle around him, and he sighed despite himself, which earned him a warning glare from Sulin, who he knew would give him a talk after this was done.

--

Now it was Jaime’s turn to be confused. Where had these new people come from? Had this Dragon Reborn also come prepared? Did Al’Thor plan to overrun him? Did it matter? Shrugging, he rushed in, a group of his fellow warriors following in stride. After he had dealt with these women, he could focus on the boy. Jaime didn’t know Maidens.

Dancing spears met their swords, even going past their defences, seeking the seams of the armor. One of his men fell, and he grimaced as the woman who had put him down simply jumped over him to beginning fighting another. He looked to Al’Thor, who was engaged with a couple of men himself, and rage boiled over in Jaime Lannister. How dare they try to take his fight!

He gave a great roar, which turned the heads of a few, including Rand. Grasping the Maiden he was fighting by the hair, he brought her up to his face, her spear wildly jabbing at him, one time going through his eyeslit to scratch his cheek. Sneering, he brought his sword up and slit her neck, and she crumpled to the dust. One glance at the pain on Al’Thor’s face and he knew he had struck a cord. Smiling, he began to stride over.

--

Rand looked on in sadness. Another woman had died because of him. He knew her, Haarlah of the Shaarad clan; another name to add to his list. The Void wavered, and suddenly anger replaced his sadness. The pain was still there, but now rage built up in him. Not bothering to put it down, he met the two men in front of him with Lizard in the Thornbush, dropping to one knee as they both fell to the ground. Rising, he glared at Jaime, who twirled his blade nonchalantly at his side as he kept a steady advance. He then leapt into action, thrusting his blade out in front of him straight for Rand’s heart.

Rand barely got his sword up in time to block, and he didn’t go without getting a scratch on his right arm, tearing his coat open to show blood begin to stream down. Not hesitating, Rand pressed on. His sword made the form of the Falling Leaf, which was parried out wide, and he flowed straight into Cutting the Clouds, which slid into a crack in Jaime’s armor on his side. With a slight grimace of pain, Lannister went into a series of thrustes and slices, putting Rand on the defensive, which made him almost trip over Mat, who was also backing up. Without even a glance, they spun around each other, switching positions. Rand found himself facing two men, and he could see three others lying sprawled on the ground behind them. Taking advantage of their momentary surprise, Rand went purely on the offensive, Leopard’s Caress used twice to put each on their heels, followed by the Heron Spreads its Wings, which cut them both down in one fluid motion. Glancing back, he saw that Mat was handling Jaime effortlessly; this seemed to infuriate his enemy. He joined his friend, using the Viper Flicks its Tongue, a bold strike that left an opening for Mat to spin his asharandei to get a cut in on the arm that was missing a hand. He then thrust his spear out in front of him, and Jaime took it with his sword, and Rand used that to his advantage.

Wind and Rain was followed by the Wind Blows over the Wall, which found another crack in Jaime’s armor. With a snarl, he pushed harder, swinging wide towards Rand in a feint to lead into a shoulder push that sent Mat sprawling to the ground.

Rand couldn’t look to see if he was alright though, because Jaime had spun around to him. Blood flowed down his side, but in the Void there was little pain. He tried using Threading the Needle, but his hand slipped on the blood that had flowed onto the hilt, and it flew from his hands when Jaime knocked it aside. Not loosing focuse, Rand reached back and grabbed behind his belt for the only thing left.

--

Jaime was sure he had this battle won, and almost laughed as he saw what Al’Thor brought out to fight with; a long, crystal sword. He had to admit, it did look amazing, but who could fight with something like that? Feasting on thoughts of this fifght being over, the final fight, he came in with a powerful overhead slash, and Rand brought the crystal sword up to block. He smiled at the thought of it shattering.

He blinked as he felt his sword was twisted aside by the crystal sword, which came around and was thrust out, Catching him on the hip through a seam.He blinked in amazement, but brought himself back together and began to parry another thrust, but it was only a feint, which left him open for another shot on his side. He fell back a short distance, and he could feel many wounds underneath his armor, his breath coming in short rasps.

Looking up at Rand, he saw that he wasn’t much better. He had a gash on his right arm, and multiple cuts along his chest and sides, which heaved with the effort of standing. And yet his face remained steel. He felt weariness begin to grab him, and he knew he had little left in him. Clutching his Valyrian steel blade in his good hand, he rushed forward with every ounce of strength left.

He was met by the crystal sword, which knocked his sword aside and plunged straight through his beat up armor, boring through his heart. He felt darkness creeping in, and the earth rushed up to meet him.

--

Rand let go of the Void and nearly collapsed as pain flooded over him. Mat and Sulin ran up to catch him, but he pushed them aside and strode to where Jaime lay. Reaching down, he tore off the belt pouch and dug inside. Pulling out the ter’angreal, he stood again. Without a second’s hesitation, he threw it far outside the arena with his last ounce of strength.He fell a bit, and this time let Mat and Sulin hold him up. He saw a woman come down from the stands, and he recognized her immediately; Nyneave.

She strode over, pulling her braid a bit too hard, and put her hands on his forehead. He felt a tingling sensation, and goosebumps appeared on his arms as she channeled, and a soothing feeling came over him. It was odd, Healing used be very painful and takes exhaustion out of the Healed person. Perhaps Nyneave had found a new Weave. Not dwelling on it, Rand once again went over to Jaime. He could see the light leaving his eyes, and the dwarf, who was off being held by two Maidens, showed no remorse. Odd.

Hoisting Callandor, Rand reached for saidin. He sighed with relief as he found it, but alone he could only hold a trickle. The ter’angreal must still have a little effect on him now. A thought struck him then. How had Nyneave channeled enough to Heal him with the ter’angreal stil in effect? Then he noticed the golden belt around her waist, and remembered that the Well could store the One Power. Smiling, he turned back to Jaime. There was little time left, and only he would do this. He didn’t want to bother Nyneave with this.

Reaching through Callandor, Rand felt the saidin come over him like a flood, like a burst of frost and fire that threatened to destroy him. He battled against it, the battle every male channeler had to face. But then the sickness came back, and he emptied his stomach where he stood, his vision blurring. A vision of Moridin came into his mind again, but he pushed it down. Nyneave started towards him, but he put a hand up to her. He went down to Jaime, and with an intricate weave he had learned from Lews Therin, life seemed to spring back into his eyes. He sat up slowly, his sword still in hand. He looked over at Rand, and a look of horror and anger crossed his face. “What did you do to me?” he roared, and as quick as lightning plunged his sword straight into Rand’s stomach. There was a gasp from the crowd, and everything went silent.

Darkness began to creep in, and Rand thought this was the end. No, he thought, his world needed him. Callandor burst to life suddenly, and Rand wove complex weaves, despite the ter’angreal’s force and the darkness of death looming close over him. A sphere appeared which shone brightly in front of him. Tying it off, he crawled in, and his wound healed completely. Everyone stood in silence as Rand stood and walked towards Jaime, who had gotten up and was watching him, brandishing his sword.

“I had been going to let you live becauses this arena is nothing but savage,” Rand’s voice boomed, weaves amplifying it to a high magnitude. “But I have won, even brought you back, and now I will end this!” With the power corsing through his very being, Rand wove a simple, deadly weave. He raised both hands, or his right hand and stump, and a bar of white fire shot out at Jaime, he screamed, the wail piercing everyone’s ears. Mat cursed, children cried out, and even the Maidens brought hands to their ears. Rising to the occasion, Tyrion’s twisted form lumber over the wall into the crowd, lost to all eyes. But all eyes were centered elsewhere.

Jaime began to twist, his form contorting. Then, it was done. Where he had been, there was only a burnt afterimage. Lowering his hands, Rand slumped to the ground. Glancing to the side, he saw Haarlah sit up, glancing around curiously at her surroundings. She went over to join the other Maidens, and they flashed handtalk amongst themselves. Smiling, Rand sat down, Mat sitting down beside him. “Blood and flaming bloody ashes, I thought you were dead a couple times there!” Mat said.

Rand chuckled, and Tuon, the Daughter of the Nine Moons, came over to sit with Mat. Nynaeve also came over to them, and they all began to talk amongst themselves, as the crowd cheered for the victor, who was so plainly sitting on the battlefield. Thus had Rand Al’Thor won the final battle, and it was time for him to return to saving the world. His world.

 

 

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Yeah, as long as we don't have to weather calls for "RECOUNT! RECOUNT!"

 

What would be the Internet equivalent of a hanging chad?

 

 

Accusing the other side of using bots?

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The only person I ever have to listen to here is Jason. =)
People listen to Jason? When did that happen?

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Kneel to the Lord Dragon or you will be knelt!

 

Go Rand go! We are the best, we won even though they closed the poll 2 hours later! Clearly they wanted Jaime to win...

Anyway, Rand won, that's what really matters! 

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Whenever he posts, probably

 

When he's thanking you and praising you for your contributions to the fandom over the phone, you definitely listen.

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Whenever he posts, probably

 

When he's thanking you and praising you for your contributions to the fandom over the phone, you definitely listen.

 

Or email, for that matter.

 

The only person I ever have to listen to here is Jason. =)

 

But not Jimmy?

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Whenever he posts, probably

When he's thanking you and praising you for your contributions to the fandom over the phone, you definitely listen.
I'm not convinced. Personally I just tune out what people are saying about/to me on the assumption that it must surely be praise. Maybe I just get praised more than Kath or you.

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Jason doesn't usually call to thank or praise me. It's usually something more like "Hey, they are announcing the new WoT author tomorrow and the boards might crash. Don't tell anyone!"

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Kneel to the Lord Dragon or you will be knelt!

 

 

 

No words were more appropriate than these  ;)

 

No one can do anything against The Dragon Reborn!

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We won we won we won we won we won!!!! GOOOOOOO RAND! Give us a R giveus an a giveus an n give us a D GOOOOOO RAAAANNNNNND!!!!!

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