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A WHEEL OF TIME COMMUNITY
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Kael

Sealing the Deal (Open to all Band and BT)

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Kedyn shifted nervously in Arrow's saddle as the column of soldiers spread along the main road of the Citadel waited for the Ashaman at their front to make these gateways. It wasn't as if he didn't believe these things could happen but....Kedyn had a tendency to be suspicious from his time as a Scout and he had only heard storied of these gateways and yet to see one.

 

This would be the first tour of the Black Tower that the Band had created the deal between the two entities. Moving by gateway would be faster as well as create less suspicion, but Kedyn also had ideas that it would be a way for the Black Tower to show what they could do. These gateways had been a large reason behind sealing the deal between the two.

 

The column consisted of members of each of corps, members selected by expirience and suggestion from their commanders. Spread out by corps with the Commanders at the head of the column, and the Captain Generals at the head of each of their divisions in the column.

 

Kedyn led out a small whistle as the silver line formed in the air and spread creating a window into the mysterious Black Tower. A breeze came flowing through the hole sending a shiver down Keydn's spine that was not only from the cool spring wind. Booting Arrow foreward Kedyn rode with the rest of the scouts at the head of the column, taking in the surroundings as they went through out of both reflex and his inbred suspicion. The channelers stationed in the Band were sane enough, but they were surrounded now and Kedyn did not trust places where he had never been. Of course you're only a Sergeant, not much you can do about it.

 

Kedyn looked over his shoulder with a grimace as the window in the air closed and then back to the turning heads of those clothed in black. The Band of the Red Hand had arrived to the Black Tower. Now the only thing that remained to be seen was the welcome they recieved.

 

 

Kedyn

Scout Sergeant

Band Division Leader

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Dashiva had been surprised when he was asked to make a Gateway to the Farm for some of the Band to see the grounds of the Black Tower.

 

He'd been surprised for only a few heartbeats, before he nodded in understanding. He could understand why they would wish to know their allies better, but to willingly walk into the Black Tower's grounds took a great deal of courage.

 

Going to the gather point, he selected 3 other Asha'men who were strong, and could make large Gateways. After waiting to make sure every Band member who was going had arrived, he nodded to the other Asha'men and seized saidin himself.

 

Quickly taking control, he wove Spirit and opened a Gateway to the Farm, and opened it as large as he could. He was full of the Power, but not all of it was going into the Gateway. He held back a good portion of his strength so he could Shield the other Asha'men if he had to.

 

He heard a whistle, and watched some of the Band use his Gateway, while he kept his attention on the Asha'men holding other Gateways open. Once all of the Band going had gone through, he nodded again and waved his arm forward.

 

Stepping through the gateway, and pulling his Shienaran charger after him, he swung into his saddle and closed his Gateway. They were a short distance from the main gates, and he looked at the Asha'men and waited for them to release saidin before releasing himself.

 

Riding ahead a little, he settled in near the front so the gate sentries could see him.

 

OOC: The asha'men who opened the Gateway's will be NPC's in this instant. Isha if you join in, you can take the place of an NPC since you are an Asha'men with the Band embassy.

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There were times that Mehrin hated his rank more than usual. Like when it meant leading a group of men and women into unfamiliar, possibly hostile, territory without reconnaissance. The group was an assortment from every division in the Band, all of whom seemed to be ill at ease. Mehrin couldn't blame them; months living alongside male channelers didn't erase millenia of established tradition.

 

Mehrin had actually dressed for the occasion, in his own way. Instead of his typical cloak, he wore a long black leather coat with silver buttons and trimwork. His breeches were freshly laundered and his boots polished. Upon his back, a new scabbard held his claymore, which had received its first polish job in years. Instead of the hilt being above shoulder level, as it normally was, it was midway down his back and angled so that it could be easily drawn at a moment's notice. Despite his need to impress the leadership of the Black Tower, Mehrin did not believe in being unable to defend himself. Even Mehrin's hat had been given special treatment.

 

Nobody really spoke as the Band's embassy gathered itself into a simple parade formation, with Mehrin and Amon at the head. Mehrin smiled at a sudden thought, the scar on his face making the act slightly disturbing. The night before, Mehrin and Amon had tossed a coin to see if Mehrin would be on foot or on horseback. Mehrin had won.

 

Dashiva stepped forward and began ordering the gathered Asha'man. As silvery slashes began to appear, a few murmurs and whistles escaped the gathered troops. Apparently they were just as nervous about what was happening as Mehrin was. However, he allowed nothing to show on his face. It would be his first time using one of these 'gateways,' but there was no need to cause a panic.

 

As the gateways opened to their full size, Mehrin raised his right arm and waved a wide circle, then pointed forward- his signal to advance. Unexpectedly, a pipe struck up from somewhere in the troops, accompanied by a drum and a few other instruments. Someone had decided that the Band would arrive to its theme. "Here we go," Mehrin muttered. As the first musical phrases of 'Dance With Jak o' the Shadows' sounded, Mehrin and Amon stepped through the gateway and into the Black Tower.

 

-Mehrin Deathwatch

Commander and Band DJ

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Early that morning, Drea had contemplated over wearing civilian clothes -which she had become acustomed to over the past week- or her Band uniform. As she buttoned up the shirt of her dress uniform, Drea was sure it was the right choice. First off, she felt more comfortable in her typical garb, and also it was more professional and pristege than the civillian clothes. After all, this will be her first real mission back with the Band so she better look good.

 

Now she sat on the back of Blazing Glory, awed at the fact that her mare was still in the band's posession, and following closely behind Mehrin and Amon. Behind her were the scouts, some she recognized, some she did not. Most of them did not recognize her though, and those who did merely gaped with disbelief. She offered a nod and a smile, then turned to face forward.

 

When Dash opened the gateway, Drea looked away. She remembered going through them before, and was not looking forward to another. It wasn't a horrid experience, she'd definitely gone through worse, but she wouldn't volunteer to lead the band through herself.

 

Drea heard the music in the background and saw Mehrin jump slightly in his saddle. She grinned and surpressed a giggle. He must be as tense as everyone else. Was she the only one looking forward to this? Despite the unknown territory, and the fact that these men can weild the one power, Drea found excitement and adventure in both those aspects. Biting her lip and smiling politely to Dash, Drea forced BG through the gateway. They have arrived.

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When Amon arrived at the appointed place he was somewhat taken aback by the Commanders attire, and had it in mind to come to attention in front of Mehrin and hold the salute until Mehrin returned it, but then Amon remember it was never a clever move to embarrass the Commander when he was nervous. Amon was dressed casually, black leather trousers, black knee high Cavalry boots and a baggy long sleeved dark green wool shirt. His long dread locks were tied back, and around his neck was the medallion he wore at all times, it’s meaning only known to him and one other.

 

Amon watched with something akin to wonderment and dread, all mixed up together, as the Asha’man seemed to create a hole in front of them. Amon had no problem trusting the men in the black coats, he had seen their work before and knew they shared a common cause, a common enemy. But, seeing the hole suddenly appear in front of the group, did have a sobering effect on most of the soldiers but Amon’s grin just spread further on his face, and a small chuckle escaped his lips. Mehrin looked sidelong at Amon, no doubt wondering about his state of mind and why he should be grinning as if he was listening to a Gleeman’s tale.

 

Noticing the expression on Mehrin’s face, Amon let him take the first few steps then quickly caught up with him and stepped through the gateway just before Mehrin did, laughter bubbling up from Amon’s lips, and sending shivers down the spines of those who knew what it could signal.

 

Amon(Tik-Tik) Turamber

 

Under Commander,IC,BotRH

 

Berserker for Life

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Arya woke at dawn, as she looked out from the stable through the loft window she saw it was still dark outside, but she couldnt sleep she was so excited and instead climbed down starting to muck out some of the stables while waiting for ligth to apear. Some of the horses looked sleepishly on her and then turned away as she left for the next boxes. As soon as ligth apeared she was out of the stables seeking a shower, she had the morning off to prepare for later in the day.

 

As she returned to the stable climbing up she changed into the new atire she had purchased. A white shirt, green pants with a silver patern, though her boots was the same old ones of deerskin, but she had washed and oiled them so they looked nice. She had been here for two months and was so excited that she was allowed to come on this trip. She couldnt wait to see her fathers home. Down in the stable she sadled Silver Arrow herself as the others where occupied readying the other horses for the trip. Leading the small mare outside she mounted and rode towards the meeting point, several others where already gathered.

 

Arya brushed a strand that had loosened from her braid behind her ear. SA caugth the stir of other horses and Aryas eagerness and started chewing on the bit her head nodding up and down. Then all was there and as silverlines started apearing Arya could hear a melody she had come to know in the months she had been here start up, a smile crossed her lips as she waited her turn.

 

Though she had seen the gateway before SA hadnt and as she directed her closer the mare started triping, but Arya kept a firm hand on the reins, she was not a new rider, and knew her horse, then she was through and gasped at the view spreading out between her. So occupied taking in the view she almost rode into Drea. It wasnt till the last moment she discovered where she was going as SA started balking that she managed to draw in the reins, pating the mares neck for stoping.

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Eb stood with the small contingent of Infantry gathered on the road to the Citadel, her sword at her hip and a pair of knives flicking unconsciously in her hands. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and her skin prickled as if she were sitting dangerously close to the fire. The Asha’man made her nervous.

 

With no warning that she could detect, a silver line split the air in front of the column and widened into a gateway. Her knuckles whitened on the hilts of her knives. Every fibre of her being screamed at her that these people were dangerous, an insurmountable threat that should be eliminated before it could strike. What are we doing?! Gritting her teeth so hard that her jaw jutted out at a strange angle, she followed the rest of the column towards the hole in the air.

 

Somewhere in the mass of people a small group had started up with “Jak o’ the Shadowsâ€, and from somewhere else in front of her, a chuckle wafted down the line. She spat, a shiver running up her spine and a grimace settling on her face. Knuckles still white on the hilts of her knives she stepped through the gateway. A cold chill engulfed her. She took a sideways glance at one of the Asha’man, swathed in black and manipulating the very air. Oh, we’ll be dancing with Shadows alright. She scowled, thinking an alliance with Asah'man was indeed a dangerous game. Slowly, as a precaution, the knives in her hands began to twirl...

 

(OOC: Just to clear things up, Eb's not about to start a fight here, she's just extremely on edge.. :wink:)

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Guest Dalinar

Word had been sent well ahead of the contingent that was arriving from the Band of the Red hand, however it was not enough time for the Tower to recover from the horrific night that had quite literally torn the Black Tower to shreds. Dalinar shook his head at the disturbing memory of that Shadow-cursed night, his mind drifting to the three soldiers, seven Dedicated and two Asha'man still recovering in the Infirmary.

 

He had, thus, decked himself out in ceremonial garb for the occasion. That's not to say his attire was fancy or flamboyant, but rather the clean cut, straight and well maintained lines of a slightly fitted black coat with high collar, Dragon's wrapped in silvery-blue thread around the sleeves and straight legged black trousers tucked into well-kept black leather boots. Tower's Honour hung at his hip, the hilt placed deferentially in a gesture of good will. The truth was he would probably fare better in a fight without it than with anyway.

 

The M'Hael waited with several other senior Asha'man in a space that had once marked the Traitor's Tree and surrounds. The area had been smoothed and flattened now, black scorch marks had been swept away and smears of blood and broken bodies reclaimed by the earth. It was as good a place as any to greet the delegation that had come to view the Black Tower. And in truth, it was a most auspicious occasion... The first outsiders to ever see the Farm grounds for themselves. Dalinar wished, with some small amount of injured pride, that those grounds were in better repair.

 

He wondered how the Farm dwellers would respond to the 'invasion' by this foreign force, albeit by invitation, given the insular secrecy that the Black Tower had shrouded itself in for so long. Well, it was high time that that facade was dropped, and perhaps this meeting would be the first step of many.

 

Dalinarius Traachanshield

M'Hael

 

OOC: I'd urge people to get involved in the thread. Post your responses and such to the arrival of the Banders. We'll take it from there.

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Miria sat straight-backed in her saddle, atop her 'borrowed' mount. She still felt a tinge of guilt, knowing the horse she called her own was stolen. Light, she hadn't even been able to bring herself to name it! By rights she should try to return it, but something told her that would only make things worse, and she had no desire for another stint in a dank jail cell. Just the thought was enough to make her shudder, though strangely it was easier to think about than where they were going today.

 

Nervous was a good way to describe the feeling in Miria's gut, as she cast her eyes over the ranks of soldiers waiting for the 'gateways' - whatever exactly they were. All Miria knew was that they were made using the one power, the tainted male half of the power at that. Were they mad? Deliberately choosing to walk into a place filled with male channellers? Having some such men around the citadel had been one thing, but going into the enemy's territory, as it were, was a very daunting prospect.

 

Miria's gaze rested for a moment on the handsome profile of Kedyn and she relaxed somewhat. It was because of their relationship that she was often included on these missions she knew, considering she herself was only a private, and not a very experienced one at that. Still, she was not about to complain, she had no desire to let him out of her site, just having him near made her feel safer, not to mention the other effects he had over her. It was crazy, she was supposed to be a soldier, a brave warrior, yet the thought of losing Kedyn made her feel weak as a kitten. It was amazing what love could do.

 

Dashiva made some signal to the other black-coated men, and Miria adjusted her hold on the reigns, eyes wide as she watched as a...a...hole appeared out of nowhere in the air. Her mouth fell open in wonder, the reality of what she was seeing far more amazing than she had imagined. They were going through these holes? Swallowing, Miria brushed her blonde tresses out of her eyes and heeled her mare to follow the other scouts, unable to help ducking as she rode through the gateway, even though it was plenty tall enough for her to ride through. Instinct and curiosity had her eyeing their surroundings closely, astounded at the change of countryside. Had they really just travelled as far as they had? It was all a little much to take in, but she would be lying if she didn't admit it was exciting too. Allowing a tiny smile to touch her lips, Miria led her mare to Kedyn's side and followed the others towards what was called the Black Tower.

 

Miria

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Glancing back towards the rear of the Band, Dashiva waited not to far from Mehrin and kept his horse up with the head of the Band's column.

 

He gave a bare hint of a nod towards Drea, and twisted around as one of the asha'men rode up. "Your supposed to be in the rear of the column," he said softly, returning the salute the asha'man gave.

 

"There's a few soldiers in the rear, some calvary and some infantry who look... jumpy sir. They might snap inside the grounds if they're this jumpy after just walking through gateways."

 

Flicking his gaze from the asha'man to Mehrin and Drea, he looked back and shook his head. "Keep your eyes on them. If anything should happen, you act like you did as a Black arm. If anything lethal happens, I vow I'll Shield you myself and hand you to Mehrin to do as he would to you, am I understood?"

 

He turned away from the man without really paying attention to what he said, and nodded at Mehrin. "Whenever your ready to go s...," he bite off the last.

 

Just because your back at the Tower doesn't mean you automatically reassume all old habits he told himself.

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Instead of being able to work on his training, Nakor had drawn guard duty today. He was in command of ten soldiers and had responsibility for this part of the wall. The soldiers he was working with today seemed competent enough to add to the feeling he had that he was wasting his time. These boys could handle themselves well enough in most situations and they were perfectly capable of calling for help if need arose. Besides, nothing ever happened here anyway. Nobody even knew where the Tower was.

 

On a day when he wanted nothing more than to train with his mentor Covai he was stuck here bored out of his mind. Truth be told he was starting to get a bit complacent when he saw a large number of people on horses coming toward them. He recognized Dashiva riding toward the front and relaxed fractionally. If dash was riding with them it couldn't be a threat, but who were they.

 

Nakor called the soldiers with him to attention and waited to see what would happen. Down below he saw the M'hael and several senior ashaman waiting patiently where the Traitor's Tree once stood. It looked like his prediction had turned out false, today would be an interesting day after all.

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The sun shone brightly as Jora and Elayne came running to their old father, Dovan, who was busy clearing away some of the last vestiges of wreckage left over from... well, it was a night best forgotten. Strange, he noted as an aside, that he could see further while he held saidin than he could when served as both scout and battlefield doctor in his youth for the Queen's Guard. It was a small blessing among the mountain of curses brought on by the tainted Source.

 

"Papa!" they yelled in unison, but after that they both broke into two different voices, babbling about the Light knew what as they tried to out-talk the other.

 

"Girls," he said as he held up a finger to silence them. "One at a time. Two ears doesn't mean that I can hear two mouths." That made them giggle a little. "Jora, what has you and your sister so excited?"

 

"Horses, daddy!" she said, bouncing up and down in place, her brown curls bouncing with her. "Lots of them! With people on their backs."

 

Dovan's eyebrows lifted in alarm. "How many, Jora?"

 

The young girl squinted her eyes in her attempt to concentrate and count in her head. Nodding she held up both hands, all ten fingers pointed upwards, and said, "More than this many, papa!"

 

The silver-haired, old man could not help but to smile, which caused both her daughters to smile in turn. "Thank you, Jora. That's very helpful. Now, I want both of you to run home and tell your mother what you told me and then say that I told you all to stay inside the house. Would you do that for me?"

 

Suddenly, Jora's face became serious and she saluted him as she had seen other men around the Tower grounds saluting each other. "Yessir!" she said, before her face broke out in a wide grin, and then grabbed Elayne's hand and together they ran off, giggling and laughing in excitement.

 

As they disappeared around the corner of a house, Dovan drew as much of the One Power into him as he could handle, until he could feel the struggle for control of the raging torrent of saidin teeter on a knife's edge and began walking towards where his daughters had pointed. He knew he had not been at the Black Tower for too long, but he was still very strong in the One Power however inexperienced in weaving some of the more complicated battle weaves. And if there was one thing he had learned over the long course of his life is that subtlety killed more people than did brute force, so simple weaves could protect the tower just as much as the more flashy ones could. But as he marched on, the old man hoped that there would be no need for confrontation.

 

Having approached the edge of the Tower grounds, Dovan could clearly see columns of men on horse and on foot making their way towards him. Leading at the head of them all were the M'Hael and other senior Asha'Man guiding a few senior officers. Dotting the following army were other Asha'Man as well. It could not be an invasion, he thought and breathed a sigh of relief; his family was safe, the Black Tower was safe... for now. Coming to his senses, he released his hold on the True Source and waited for the group to walk into town before saluting the passing men and women.

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Caelen heard the clamour as he was working with a sword. He was slone in a small patch of earth that was a bit hidden. He wasn't good with a sword. In fact, he'd never really held one until he showed up at the Farm and they'd started teaching it to him. Somedays he came to this spot and worked to try to improve without anyone there to laugh at him. Caelen loved to laugh and to make others smile, but laughing with him and laughing at him were two differnt things. The difference meant a lot to him.

 

He quickly sheathed the sword (at least he could do that right) and walked over to the fuss. His jaw dropped slightly at what he saw. He went to stand over near another Soldier, a man he had taken a class with. He nodded but didn't give anything else in way of greeting. As the people passed by he was surprised to see women among the ranks of soldiers. Not a place he'd like to see a girl, though he had no doubt they were good at their jobs. You didn't last long in an army if you were just pretty to look at. Light, he woudln't last long in an army and he was a looker. He smiled to himself at that thought. He'd had to remember it later to try out on someone. Maybe Jocelyn would laugh for him. She needed to smile more.

 

Still, he behaved himself as they passed, simply saluting them. And, of course, winking at the occassional female that happened to catch his eye.

 

dmcaelan.jpg

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Guest Estel

Sweetness and pain flowed through him intertwined in a deadly dance to which even his fingers struggled to keep up with. Fingers rolled out chord after chord at a nearly impossible rate striving desperately to keep up with the dancers’ feet. A four-note chord was followed by the same only rearranged and with an added note creating a nearly painful dissonance, contrasting with the previous’ beauty. While his right hand rolled off chord after chord, his left- playing the bass notes- kept up a running ostinato. Those familiar notes were the only rhythm to the music as the melody- if melody it could be called- rubbed against it playing the off-beat as often as it played on the beat.

 

Such was the dance with saidin.

 

Like a sleeping person who had just had a bucket of ice water thrown on him, Isha’s mind snapped out of his reverie. Music? Harp? He knew nothing of those! Where had this foreign knowledge come from? How in the Pit of Doom was he thinking of playing the harp- or creating a comparison between it and the Power- when he hadn’t touched one in his life. He hadn’t even heard one since leaving Fal Dara!

 

Raucous singing grabbed at some foreign part of his mind- the part where the knowledge of music came from- causing it to wince.

 

~That’s not singing~

 

‘Really? I wouldn’t know.’

 

~That’s a crime~

 

‘Why?’

 

~You know nothing of music, boy?~

 

‘No.’

 

~The Creator have mercy upon your soul~

 

‘What in the Light are you talking about?’

 

But The Voice didn’t answer. It simply began humming a bass line to the melody carried by thousands of off-key ‘sopranos’.

 

It wasn’t until he earned a few appreciative- though frightened- glances from passing Banders that the giant Shienaran realized he was humming aloud.

 

‘We’ll sing all night, and dance all day,

And on the girls we’ll spend our pay,

And when it’s gone then we’ll away,

To dance with Jak o’ the Shadows.’

 

Another few minutes had gone by before another realization came. He was bellowing along with the rest of them! Nearby Asha’man eyed him strangely. None of them had heard him sing. Probably because he didn’t know he could. He hadn’t really known how either. Isha Talcontar could hum out some low bass notes to a simple melody but he couldn’t sing. Singing was being able to keep his massive lungs supporting his voice. It was taking a breath in the right place, staying on pitch, harmonizing the melody so it was pleasing to the ear, keeping a rhythm...

 

Abruptly he stopped, his usually pale face turning pink. Embarrassment and surprise ran through him. What was happening? What was going on in his head? Was this madness? ‘Of course it’s not.’ he scolded himself. ‘I’m still able to make sense of the world around me and I certainly have no desire to start randomly massacring the men and women passing through the Gateway. I’m still perfectly sane. Perfectly sane.’ He held onto those words as if they would ward off the madness that would some day claim his mind. ‘One day. Not today.’

 

Finally the last of the infantry- most of them looking rather uneasy- were through. With a glace back at the skittish foot soldiers and a whispered order for another of the Asha’man with them to keep an eye on them, Isha went off in search of Dashiva and Dalinar to report.

 

At the head of the army stood Mehrin, Amon, Dalinar and Dashiva all bedecked in clothing slightly finer cut, slightly cleaner and slightly more fitting for their ranks. Isha himself wore a coat embroidered with silver thorns on the sleeves and across the chest. His breeches were a shade tighter, his boots and scabbard oiled and he even wore an eye patch over his absent left eye. It was as though both sides were putting on a performance for the other in a vain attempt to impress each other. Isha almost felt guilty intruding on the quartet, surely a overgrown, battle scarred freak like him didn’t belong in that small gathering.

 

Nevertheless he walked up proudly and saluted hand to heart. “The embassy is through, sirs and all the Gateways are closed.†Dropping his formality and allowing a grin to twist his scarred face he poked a little fun at the infantry- from which Mehrin had originally come. “I daresay the Infantry seem a little cowed by the Gateways.â€

 

ooc: wow...that was long-winded...

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Home. Or whatever came closest to it. Zbynek grimaced at the buildings around him. He had been granted an Asha'man residence and even that minor thing has shown him the mixed feelings his return had stirred into his fellow soldiers. Andar had watched him, he was sure, and perhaps even dug up the reports he had so painstakingly collected. "Nothing good about me in there, no doubt," Zbynek muttered. He let his eyes follow a particularly pretty Bander, pondering if he had perhaps joined the wrong army. No matter, he'd have ended up here anyway. Too many strings kept pulling him back to ever doubt his place in the world. However, he was here to see if one of the strings tied to him but not to the Black Tower had been snapped or not.

 

He stood off to one side, almost hidden in the shadow of the building he was leaning against, and watched the entrance of the Band. Or part of it anyway. The scouts were a quiet lot, observing more then that they were conversing. He looked at them all carefully, watching to see if Cabroci was with them. He would never miss an opportunity like this. He wasn't with them, however. Zbynek grimaced deeply. They hadn't seen eachother in years and people died in armies, but he was sure he would've known if Cab hadn't made it. He shook his head. No. There was a perfectly good reason for his friend to be somewhere else then here. But he could ask. There'd be someone who knew more. He stepped out of the shadows towards the scouts as soon as greetings had been made and asked the first ranked person with them: "Where is Ramzael?"

Zbynek

OOC: any scout wanna be terrorized by their former commanders alter ego??? :)

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Drea sat motionless on her horse, taking in her surroundings and watching as many people as she could. She kept one eye on her scouts and another watched the Asha'man as they watched her just as closely. Just because she'd met one, didn't mean she trusted them all. She heard one make a comment to Mehrin, and kept her chuckle to herself but let him see her smirk as she turned and led her horse toward the scouts.

 

She was about to bark orders when a tall man stepped in front of BG. "Where is Ramzael?" All she could do was stare at him. That was the last question she expected to hear. Her mind raced for an answer, and a vague conversation where Cab mentioned connections with the Black Tower came to mind. Drea had already known of his brother, a Warder, but he had only briefly refered to any such relationship with this sort. Not that she blamed him. His name, however, slipped her mind. She bowed her head, looking more at his feet than at the man himself. "He's dead." came her harsh reply, and she was off to see to her scouts.

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None of the tension had faded from the air as Mehrin found himself on the grounds of the Black Tower itself. If anything, he was more tense than when he had stepped through that hole in the air. He could almost feel the apprehension from the soldiers that had come with him. "A man does not let fear rule him. He rules his fear." "Thank you, Father," Mehrin muttered, his voice so quiet that even he could not hear it clearly. For being a shepherd, Alben Mahrvon had been quite wise; Mehrin was thankful every day for being raised by the man.

 

The tension in the air would have been tangible to even the simplest of men when Dashiva stopped before another man. A brief exchange took place before both men shifted their attention to each other. The man that Mehrin saw before him didn't look much different from the Asha'man that he knew. The man was dressed in flat black, with a similar coat to those that Dashiva, Isha, and the others wore. His sleeves were worked with a silver-threaded serpentine shape, almost identical to the things that had been on Jarron al'Tanin's arms. The man wore a sword belted around his waist, and from the look of him, he could use it if he had to; Mehrin highly doubted that he ever did.

 

The silence grew longer, more tense. Mehrin couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Fortunately, the tension was broken by the most unexpected of people. "The embassy is through, sirs, and all gateways are closed." Isha saluted in that odd way that these Asha'man used, fist to heart. Mehrin was about to shift his mind back to the matter at hand when Isha spoke again, all formality gone from his voice. "I daresay the Infantry seemed a little cowed by the Gateways." The comment from that man, of all people, broke Mehrin of his silence.

 

Grinning widely, Mehrin chuckled and replied, "No, Isha, they weren't cowed. They were waiting to catch the Gateway if one of your men lost their grip. Judging by the lot of them, I'm surprised they didn't have to carry all of you through, too." Those few spoken words were enough to get Mehrin going again. Turning stiffly back to the leader- Dalinar, if what Dashiva had said was true, which was likely- Mehrin did something that he never did: he saluted. "Mehrin Deathwatch, Commander of the Band of the Red Hand. It is my honor and pleasure to finally visit the Black Tower."

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Guest Dalinar

The tension throughout the grounds was highly palpable, and the M'Hael was glad for the light banter between the baijan'm'hael and the Band commander that went some small way to clearing the air.

 

The leader of the party of mixed men and women in an assortment of militaristic garb was an interesting man to lay eyes on. The scar that marred his face made it a difficult one to read, and Dalinar found himself subconsciously imagining the fine threads of the Power that could smooth, flatten and soften the flesh with minimal discomfort or effort. The corner of his mouth twitched as he drew his wandering thoughts into reign - many men with scars like that preferred to keep them as a reminder of how they'd been earnt after all.

 

He took in the rest of the man, well trimmed black leather cloak, the carefully positioned claymore handle that Dali had seen men in the Borderland draw faster than he would have thought possible, even a curious looking hat on his brow.

 

With rigid aplomb, the commander turned from his verbal sparring with Isha and offered his greeting and salute to the Tower's leader. With a smile of welcome and a salute fist to heart with a bowing of his head in respect, Dalinar made his reply. "We are priveleged to be able to welcome you onto our grounds, Commander. Would that I could say I was more proud of their state of repair, but a recent... freak of nature that passed through the Farm has left things in somewhat of a shambles."

 

"Perhaps we can show you around the grounds, or would you prefer to see your entourage settled first? Unfortunately our hospitality is lacking, and we have only beds scattered throughout the grounds in the housing that has not been too sorely damaged. I understand if you prefer to pitch tents as a group, though a kinder bed than the hard ground is difficult to pass up..."

 

 

 

Dalinarius Traachanshield

M'Hael

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Dashiva's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Mehrin saluting to Dalinar, but kept silent and a few steps back and in between both men.

 

Folding his hands behind him, he waited in case either Mehrin or Dalinar requested his input.

 

Unable to stop a soft chuckle at Dalinar's words, he shook his head. "I imagine the Infantry may prefer the hard grounds, and may just bunk down on the training fields just to prove some point."

 

Shaking his head, he glanced around the Farm. He rarely showed his amusement, and his thoughts turned to why that had changed.

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