Wine, Women and Warsong [OPEN]

[Liitha]

Semirhage looked out the window, the banner with the red bull where to be seen in every direction, the town was decorated at least the parts visible from the castle. She turned and looked into the mirror, her pale pink dress clung to her body before spreading out into layers upon layers in the skirt. Her hair where put up with pins in a way that she had a few locks hanging forth caresing her face the rest where resting down her back.

 

Soon there would be time, she wove the weaves hiding her face behind the mask those who knew her under her cover up was used to see her with. Looking into the mirror again looking so much difrent then herself, seemingly just tanned not truly as dark in the skin as she really was, and green eyes. Then she inverted the weaves, before weaving to hide her ability to channel. It all came easy enough to her and then she stood there ready, she would be happy when this day was over it was far to hot to be dressed in such a ridiculus dress as this, but it had been a gift from the king. She shook her head, just one more day and she could get to work on geting things her way, a grin passed her lips as she walked towards the door.

 

She walked out and the guards outside where ready following her as an escort to make sure she had safe passage as she walked down the stairs towards the throne hall. She had been in charge of that one herself, pink roses and white lillys where decorating it, it had been cleaned from botom to top, making sure it would shine and look its best on this day.

 

She would be waiting in the garden outside it while it filled up so she had a chanse to pass though it once more and see everything was in place before peoples started trickeling in. All of that was acording to her plans, she knew there where witches present as advicors to some of the nobles who where visiting. She had be sure to spread them well out, thus making sure it would be harder to locate where channeling came from, as such they should be asuming it was one of their sisters, that was as long as she used only trickles and hid her abilities when she was close to any of them.

 

Semi finaly arived outside the throne hall and the guards slid up the doors for her, she passed through and heard them close behind her again. She looked around, the huge windows brougth plenty sun in, and making the room sligthly heated, she could but imagine how it would be when it was filled.

 

She passed through it and out into the garden on the left side of it, the curtains in this directions where pulled shut to keep some of the sun out, which ment it was the side it was frying on atm. Semi walked with fast steps through the yard till she came under a tree with some shadow.

 

Now it was but to wait she would soon enough hear the sound as it filled up and the guards she had told to stay by the door and let her know when it was time.

 

[Quibby]

Smiling quietly to himself and seemingly lost in his music, the man known as Jaros Nameros was sitting at one of the tables near the back, entertaining some of the wedding guests. If they would have known what Jaros was smiling about, the man was sure that they would have been fleeing in panic. Finely-woven threads of Illusion disguised his true features to something a bit plainer and less noticable, and a similar web hid his ability to channel; with everything inverted, no one would ever know that the gleeman-turned-court bard bore another face and name. A name that, he knew, would cause just as much panic, if not more, as what he was about to do. The Chosen were loose, and Asmodean was out for blood.

 

This would not be the first time that Asmodean had done something similar. In what these primitives had called the Age of Legends, there were originally more Chosen than what these people knew. Their constant infighting had seen many of them slain, either in defense of their life or in assault of another's life. As a matter of fact, Asmodean had done something similar to this once before...

 

Meldar Ciron Lacrimas had been one of Joar Addam Nessosin's biggest rivals throughout their schooling. The man somehow managed to outdo him in some way or another, be it in classes, in the musical ensembles, or in their composition. Secretly, Joar Addam had always harbored the hope that the man would lose his abilities in some tragic accident, but that had never come to pass. Until Joar Addam had thrown off the foolishness of the Light in order to achieve an eternity of music.

 

Meldar Ciron had been awarded yet again for his so-called talent, and it was during his acceptance speech that the newly-christened Asmodean had struck. Meldar Ciron may have been one of the most renowned composers of his Age, but he couldn't channel. And neither could anyone else in the room. Wartime had drawn most of the Servants to the front, leaving Joar Addam Nessosin as their only representative.

 

In the middle of Meldar Ciron's acceptance speech, Joar Addam rose and moved to the stage, a web of Air keeping everybody but himself from moving. As he stepped to the podium, Joar Addam spared Meldar Ciron a sneer before hoisting him into the air. "Too long you have taken from me what is rightfully mine. Too long you have wrongfully believed yourself my better. No more. I serve a new master now. For your arrogance, I sentence you to a world without your passion."

 

With a wicked grin, Asmodean set a web of Fire and Air around Meldar Ciron's hands and feet while fine flows of Fire entered the man's ears, boring out the nerves and organs essential to hearing. The agonized screams of the man were more pleasant than his music had ever been. The screams became more frantic as a web of Air seized onto his tongue and pulled it taut. A wild look entered Meldar Ciron's eyes as he tried to shake his head and beg for mercy. There would be none. With a wet, tearing sound, Meldar Ciron's tongue left his mouth, which immediately filled with blood.

 

Manipulating the flows of Air that suspended him, Joar Addam forced Meldar Ciron's head into a position where he could see his hands and feet. Then he touched each web with a flow of Spirit to activate them. The hard gaze never leaving his eyes, Joar Addam watched as Meldar Ciron's extremities reddened, then blackened, then burst into flame, bringing a bubbling scream of agony from the bloody opening that was the man's mouth. Soon, there was nothing left but heat-twisted bone. Another web of Air snapped away bones like twigs. "Thus is the price for rising above your place, Meldar Ciron Lacrimas," Joar Addam said coldly, bringing the man's face close to his. For a moment, their eyes met, agonized and panicked blue gazing into the cold and dark. Then two flows of Air plucked those cursed eyes from Meldar Ciron's skull.

 

Returning to the present, Asmodean realized that his music had taken on a decidedly unpleasant tone. With a rueful shake of his head, he addressed his audience, "I apologize for that. I felt that I would give you a preview of a piece that I plan to perform later today. Never fear, it has a cheerful and happy ending." Gathering his velvet cape around him, Asmodean moved on to the next group of guests, his fingers picking deftly across the strings of the harp.

[Liitha]

M'bela looked down her uniform as she walked through the halls, she would have grumbeled hadnt she seen the sence in a low profile. Her job would be serving wine during the wedding, disguised as young blonde girl, the weaves inverted long before she entered castle ground. Tricky buisnises staying close to witches, but it would just be for the day.

 

She longed back to her hut in braem wood where she intended to go as soon as she where done here, she still had buisnises to attend to, and to much needed to be writen down, some things she had fogoten had come up as she was questioned when giving her report to her mistress.

 

Slowly making her way into the throne hall that was decorated for the event she started walking around with her tray offering up wine to the partisipants who had already arived.

[Guest Estel]

Entering the gates, Carnhain could hear the sounds of celebration. Drunken shouts, laughter, music and peoples’ voices filled the air. The streets were packed and despite his horse- or maybe because of it- he could manage barely a snail’s pace through them. He even occasionally wondered whether he was being forced backwards. And yet a grin split the cavalryman’s face ear to ear. He looked forward to a day of drinking and carousing.

 

After hours, the Band’s ‘honourary detachment’ arrived at the palace. Mehrin, for some reason or another, was not coming himself and had sent this group in his place. Carnhain had been nearly ecstatic to have been chosen. His experience in large cities was limited to Baerleon and the short stint in Caemlyn where he had had to help rescue Miria. Not exactly his favourite memory by half. He had immediately jumped at the chance to visit Lugard and be inside the palace itself. He had seen the Queen’s palace in Caemlyn, but he had not been inside it.

 

Only those with invitations were allowed within the palace and while that was still a great many people, it allowed Carnhain to at least walk Black Fire to the hundreds- being challenged in the arithmetic department he had no idea whether the insane amount of liveried men and women numbered in the thousands- of servants and groom waiting to take the mounts of the arriving dignitaries.

 

Flipping the groom and silver mark and refusing aid in dismounting- he was a bloody cavalryman, not some lady- he barely restrained the urge to run right into the festivities and instead made towards them with his usual swagger. While doing so, he stared wide-eyed at the wonders around him, betraying him for the country-bumpkin he was.

[Liitha]

Semi looked up to see the sign from the guard and then raised, she gathered the skirts in one hand to not stumble in them and walked to the door. Steping inside she let the skirts fall to the floor and slid forward gracefully untill she found her hand in that of her king.

 

Hopefully this would happen quietly, steping up on the dais where the throne sat she focused on looking on the man she where to wed. Her instinct was to let her eyes roam the crowd of nobles and other guests. The nobles was not used to be lead in this country, and she had had to play soft and meek so far to make sure this could happen without troubles. She smiled sweetly behind her facade. It was but the first step thoug, she would twin him around her pinky even more and then teach them all to be quiet and do as told.

 

Her ears listening to the quiet small talk, then finaly it seemed to be quiet enough for the man her husband had set to perform this wedding, and she listened to him drooning on, he seemed to love his own voice even more then what was nesicary even for a royal wedding.

 

At last he came to an end and her moments away from beeing husband took the word, in his hand a ring apeared and she almost caugth her breath in her troath. Such a small thing and she knew it was the festiveties after to attend to, but then then she could start working on her plans.

[Quibby]

Such simpletons! One of the greatest composers and musicians of the Age of Legends offers them an original piece of music, and they turn it down in favor of some country dance! It had been all that Asmodean could do not to incinerate the whole tableful of idiots. But then again, why not? He glanced at the table. They appeared to be a part of some sort of army, all in matching uniforms. One of them had asked for "Dance with Jak o' the Shadows," a tune with which he was unfamiliar until one of them hummed a few bars. All of it out of tune, of course. Was there no sophistication to be found in this Light-blinded Age?

 

A brass fanfare suddenly blared from the dais where the king and his master of ceremonies waited. With a small smile, Asmodean's eyes followed everybody else's to the back of the large hall. His smile brightened expectantly as his eyes fell upon the woman slowly striding towards the king, a happy and expectant smile on her face. There was no mistaking that smile, those confident strides. She was taller than him, which was nothing new. Her skin had changed to a much lighter color, but there was no mistaking Semirhage to one who knew her.

 

Moving as naturally as he could, Asmodean danced his way around the tables towards the dais. He would need a clear view of the dais. Not to mention the timing that only an artist could provide. Seating himself in an empty chair, Asmodean relaxed as the master of ceremonies began speaking, allowing the man's droning to lead him towards the Oneness. As he hands her the ring, that's when I'll strike... The thought bore no emotion within the emptiness of Asmodean's mind. Had he not been deep within the Oneness, Asmodean would have been giggling maniacally. Another of the Chosen out of the way, his path to Nae'blis would be much smoother.

 

Time passed, and the man was still droning on, though he seemed to be getting to the heart of the discussion. Even in the Oneness, Asmodean felt a bit of irritation trying to form. You droning fool, get on with it! Asmodean found himself wondering whether he could eliminate both targets in one fell swoop. It would be worth it. Finally, the man finished, and the king, with a bright smile on his face withdrew a rather extravagant ring from the pouch on his belt. The sudden catch in Semirhage's breath was priceless. Now!

 

Saidin flooded into Asmodean as he stood, electricity coursing through his body. Stretching a hand towards the dais, the final flow of Spirit wove into the web that he had created, and arcs of lightning flowed from his outstretched hand to the dais. In his excitement, Asmodean forgot about the basic laws of nature. Instead of hitting the Dark Lady, as Asmodean had planned, his web centered on the small ring in the king's hand. The backblast flung the master of ceremonies against the stone wall, where his head struck with a sickening smack, leaving a trail of ichor as he slid to the floor. Semirhage was leaning against the railing which had caught her fall. And the king... The blackened and twisted shape that had been the king had been blasted into his throne, where the impact had shattered his charred body.

 

"Tsag!" Asmodean cursed, as his still-living target stood tall and furious, her disguise shed. Not good, Asmodean thought within the Oneness. Webs of Air threw everything and everyone seated or standing near him away. Asmodean barely even noticed the red-haired woman who fell directly in front of him, her eyes full of the terror she had felt as her body rushed inexplicably to the unmoving ceiling. He had to distract the woman before she could strike back. He had to get away!

[Liitha]

It was when everything happened at once, she fell backwards and only the rail saved her from faling on her back. Her control wagered a moment as she lost hold of the weaves and her aparence droped. Her eyes quickly found its target as all stilled in a moment seeming ever so slow, all but the disapointed hiss. Her eyes found its target easy enough even with the thiner face, and saidar already flowing strong in her as she wove.

 

Her voice the cold of ice as she fliped her hands leting fireballs fly as she spoke, "A grave mistace Joar". Anger was steaming inside, though litle would show except from in the darkness of her eyes.

 

A simple web of Fire and Spirit was all that was needed to extinguish that the Dark Lady had hurled at Asmodean. Pasting an arrogant smile on his face, Asmodean replied, "I'm sorry, Nemene. Did I come at a bad time?" Without a second thought, Asmodean hurled a web of Air at the woman, hoping to knock her out, or at least distract her.

 

The shield she had thrown up blocked something as she hurled a chain of ligthing towards the man, he had some stumock showing up here with his patetic strength. Something must have happened to drive the rat out of his tunels where he usualy hid. Then she felt others grasping saidar and quickly wove air and water in masses leaving the room in a tick fog, she had no time to strengthen the weave and knew it would be gone in moments. Moments was however all she needed as she entered the garden, let him fry in the chaos braking out in there as peoples regained their wits. Opening a gateway with inverted weaves so as not to be followed she lept through and closed it behind her.

 

ooc have fun peoples... let the lord of chaos rule

[Quibby]

The sudden feel of static in the air was all that warned Asmodean about the oncoming attack. Wrapping himself in a web of Air, Earth, and Fire, he felt the blast of the lightning hurl him across the floor. And then it stopped. Releasing the shield, Asmodean took a gasping breath, replentishing the air that the shield would not allow through. Standing up, Asmodean found himself face-to-face with one of those half-trained children they called Aes Sedai in this Age. She obviously knew what he was, by the open fear on her face. Without a second thought, Asmodean slammed a shield onto her and tied it, a web of Air already tossing her to one side as he moved.

 

No more attacks came from the dais, and the air was rapidly filling with mist. Which meant that Nemene would be fleeing. I think I've probably overstayed my welcome, as well, Asmodean thought. An inverted gateway suddenly sprung open in front of him, neatly cutting one of the fleeing guests in two. A quick dash through the portal, and he allowed it to close. Looking around, Asmodean took stock of his location. He had chosen a quiet place in the middle of a swamp that they called Haddon Mirk. From here, he would Travel to five other locations before choosing a final destination. He couldn't afford to be found by the Dark Lady; that would doubtlessly be the fate of his dreams for a long time. He had failed.

[Caeran]

Caeran let out a couple of words he had just recently learned-being in the Band had its good sides- while running and dodging, trying to make the exit. He couldn't understand too much of what was happening, as he had never met anyone who could channel before, and of course, couldn't channel himself. However, that something not too good was happening, you had to be a trollock or something not to realize. He ran past something who had been cut in half, with an unusually clean cut, but then stopped. He looked around and realized that he had no idea where the exit was. Where had they entered? Then he remembered that there were other Banders here too. How stupid had he been not to think of that immediately? He knew that a cavalry lieutenant was here, what was he called again? Carnhain, thats right... If he only could find him, they could probably figure out something to do. "CARNHAIN? LIEUTENANT? ANYONE?" he yelled at the top of his lungs, hoping to be heard above the screams of the people running around. What was the poin of screaming wordlessly anyway? It did them no good, so why not just stop with it? Either scream for help, which would have been stupid in this situation since no help would come, everybody was too busy helping themselves, or dont scream at all. Irritating, it was. Of course, doing anything Caerans way was the right way.

[Guest Estel]

ooc: I took some liberties here with the situation and please tell me if I should edit it...

 

ic:

Carnhain silently thanked Rowul for his dancing lessons as a young noblewoman caught him up in ‘Dance with the Jack o’ the Shadows’. Lucky for him, dancing took concentration which diverted his thoughts from where her hands lay hot on his shoulder and his own hand. More mortifying was the way he managed to blush every time he remembered his own hand on her slim waist. Light blind him! Why could he have Kedyn’s ability with women?

 

The blushing cavalryman barely contained his sigh of relief until after she left him to join her House near the front of the Great Hall. Luckily the Band had been near the back and he had made the excuse of checking on the rest of them to get out of having join her at the front. He understood little of politics and did not understand until it was explained by one of the other Banders that the girl had obviously been sent by her family to try and make a connection to the Band- which was apparently a topic of gossip among the nobles here.

 

Only five minutes into the ceremony and his attention was elsewhere. While the Master of Ceremonies droned on, he lazily inspected the crowd of people, all nobles with their servants and retainers. In short order he had gotten a quick lesson in Murandian fashion and had decided that he definitely preferred Andoran clothing. Not only that, but he got a few tips on Murandian politics from the Corporal beside him who had grown up the son of a Murandian Lord’s retainer.

 

What fascinated him equally as much were the handful of finely-dressed women in shawls all at the very front, sitting amongst the most powerful Houses. Aes Sedai. He had only ever glimpsed one from afar during the first battle of Emond’s Field at the very beginning of his career and now could not help but stare. Light, to have that power... Asha’man had the same access to that power, and he had seen many Blackcoats, but theirs came at a terrible price. Light, their gross amount of power intimidated him nearly as much as Jarron al’Tanin had- and that was saying something.

 

ZAP!

 

He was suddenly blinded by the brightness of the light that had suddenly encompassed the entire front of the hall. Even in the back he felt every hair on his body stand on end and could feel the heat sear his skin. Screams assaulted his ears as his sight slowly returned to normal and the familiar smell of blood and burned flesh stung his nostrils.

 

Instinctively he was out of his chair, his broadsword out in a flash. He cursed himself for leaving his horsebow and quiver in his saddle bags as he could do little from the back otherwise. Not completely sure of what he was doing, he sprinted for the front of the hall as more screaming ensued.

 

Chaos erupted as a strange fog enveloped the area. He was jostled by fleeing, screaming people until he had lost all sense of direction. Unsure of how to proceed, he simply stood scanning the grey blanket around him for some sort of clue or divine intervention. There was none.

 

As soon as it had come, the fog disappeared and if Carnhain had thought the place chaotic before, it held nothing against the scene taking place now. The closest thing he had ever come to this sort of panic and chaos was the second battle of Emond’s Field in which the Band had fought an exact replica of itself that had been attacking the village.

 

No one seemed to know what had really happened and as they came to their own conclusions it seemed that ancient grudges and hatred burst into flame. Murandy’s noble Houses had forever been at political war with one another and now each had the perfect excuse to draw weapons against one another. This was like no battle Carnhain had ever fought in; in a regular battle there were two opposing forces and only a handful of lines of engagement. Here each House fought ten others with the backing of one or two. This was politics at its best, Houses fought openly and alliances changed in a heartbeat with little rhyme or reason except that perhaps the two had been fighting the same group at the same time. Of course, with all politics, these alliances lasted only as long as both parties benefitted and as soon as the common enemy was thrown into retreat, the two turned on each other.

 

Unfortunately, the Band was in no better position, excepting that they were better trained, equipped and had larger numbers. Murandian lords with no one to blame sought out the Band as a scapegoat. Carnhain stood in the middle of it all as the realisation of just how alone and vulnerable he was dawned on him.

 

Almost simultaneously he was parrying the overhand swing of a retainer in blue and black armour. The man was skilled but was not as quick as Carnhain and the blonde man used the time the retainer gave him to disengage and start moving towards the Band which was slowly making a retreat as a rear-guard of infantrymen covered their getaway.

 

Above the din of the fighting her heard his name but was distracted from replying by the pressing need to block two oncoming retainers. Just as their sword began their downward arcs, he jumped to the side knocking a third man, who had his back turned, unconscious with the pommel of his blade. “SOLDIER! WHERE ARE YOU! TO ME! COME TO ME!”

[Liitha]

As all hell broke loose M'bela drew forward in the crowd, against the stream of first fleeing and then figthing peoples, she moved with grace sliping away from and around peoples. It was a skill she had learned as a street child and still remembered centuries later, trying to keep oversigth. Like the rest though shoked not beyond her wits of hearing what was important, Semirhage by what she knew should be stronger, besides it was not the time to think on now, her added help or any at all could make out difrences, power batles was nothing new to her. Though before she could reach the front the fog waporised, she registrered Semi flying out the side door and some peoples moving there to flee out. But they where armed and once outside migth get their heads back, using air she flung her tray over to stop them in their tracks as it hit the leader in the head and the ones they where fleeing from caugth up with them.

 

From the corner of her eyes she saw the asassinator flee through a gateway. Grumbeling her priorities was now changed and she needed to get out of her, even more so she realised as she felt other hold saidar reminding her of the Aes Sedai present.

[ashara]

When Vera Cadsanome had been sent to Murandy with just one other Gray, she had been proud. She had smiled, glad that her Ajah trusted her, enough indeed to go into the depths of a political labyrinth of Murandy, where loyalty lay to House and mansion and hallowed halls of the King was a strange and fluttering dream. Long years ago she had been taught by one of her teachers of the instability of the rule, of the greed for power and mostly of how suspicious a race they were and how easily they got thrown into black moods. And so when Vera set off, she had been secretly relieved that she was taking another Sister with her. Not due to any doubt in herself, but rather a comfort that another of the Tower would be there to share worries with, and that to someone who would understand her, being an Aes Sedai. On their journey together they had discussed the risks, the powerful rival Houses and the King. Mostly though, they’d discussed the sudden wedding that was the cause of all this and the chaos it could entail.

 

However, little could have prepared Vera for what she saw now.

 

It had all started perfectly, beautiful impeccable decoration, traditional to the boot. A lovely bride who was quite the vision with her King. Nobles both overly and elegantly dressed, quick and stupidly obvious. Smiles cemented on everyone’s faces, small talk and wine the core of the event. Vera had allowed herself to relax slightly, but only a little. A dagger here, poisoned wine there and there would be strife. What did happen though, was something worse that any Oaths testing could offer.

 

It began with a loud crash, which was then followed by screams. Trouble. Without bothering to turn around, Vera quickly embraced Saidar and looked for a moment towards her companion before turning hastily to look at where the noise had first originated from. With Saidar in her grasp, everything was heightened tenfold, shrieks included, and even after years of training, Vera found it almost unbearable. However, when her eyes did fall on the throne, such trifles faded into oblivion and Vera Cadsanome, servant of all, knew fear. Stories of the past, of classes, of books came back in mad vivid rushes, and had it not been for the fact that she had duties to attend to, there would’ve been a seemingly young chestnut haired maiden who would be sitting transfixed by the company she was in.

 

Turning, all that she had never expected at such magnitude she found. Chaos. Blood. Madness. A woman she had been talking to a moment ago, tinkling wine glasses and ears attune to the lilting, was now on the ground, eyes closed and smothered with a look of death. Men were gathering towards her left, the valiant ones who believed they could make a difference. Others, the smart ones of course, were fleeing, wild and frenzied. They would be the ones who would need the most care, she thought, making a mental note. That was when it struck her. Where was Evaida? Surely..not..?

 

It got her then, slipping in deftly like a shadow that suddenly became night. She needed to think, to act fast. Evaida could easily be assisting elsewhere. She had to do what she could at her best. Again the pale woman who was breathing hard loomed out at her with her gaudy dress, and Vera hastened towards her. She had always been a strong healer, ironically enough considering all her days in the infirmary. She could still save her, perhaps even to the escape that she could escape decently…

 

A tingling sensation, nothing more. Evaida? The thought barely registering, but whether it was instinct or not, she decided to keep her head low while looking for the channeler. There. Blond hair, milky skin and the glow of Saidar wrapped around her. A Wilder, could well be, Vera hadn’t sensed her before this. Whoever she was, she needed to be stopped. The last thing they needed was a channeler who was unsure about what she was doing. Quickly weaving threads of Spirit, she shielded her without a second thought and turned back to the woman beside her. Time to focus.

 

Vera Cadsanome

Gray Sister

[Liitha]

As M'bela turned she could feel the weave come to her and then the shield trying to cut her from the source, instinct made her lash out with her strongest element spirit and cut the weave, then search for whomever had aimed in on her and who would surely feel the weave beeing cut, already was she weaving a ward and starting at making some other weaves as well.

 

Eyes intent on the passed out woman's dark head, Vera began to weave. It would be best if she delved her first, to see what needed her attention the most. It was when she was putting her around the woman as a method to do so, Vera felt a previous weave snap. Dazed, she didn't need to look around to know who it had been. Not a Wilder then. Stooping low, Vera lay herself down beside the woman, feeling a pang about the fact that if she couldn't Heal her soon, things would look bitter. Straining her neck, she found the Blond haired woman was looking around frantically herself. Looking for her?

 

That got her. A quick flare inside her- courage or perhaps even fear. Lifting herself off the cold floor when the woman's back was turned, Vera quickly wrapped her around in thick weaves, using Arms of Air. So faraway, she couldn't sense how strong the other was, but this would give her enough insight.

 

M'bela found her ward penetrated and herself wraped in air, however she had felt where it came from. Drawing on all five powers she let her wrath out in the form of ligthing in the direction she knew it had come. One thing her captivety had thougth her was one didnt need the hands to use saidar, it was something she had been trained a litle in and practised on her own later. As was she had even seen damane without hands or other limbs, punished for things. Her aim was not acurate she knew, however it should be enough to distract the other with so she could get loose and more easily defend herself as she could pinpoint her prey with the use of her eyes.

Just as she let herself open to a small wave of success, Vera watched a complex branch of weaves and lightning crackle right before her, wincing as she saw a fallen body writhe. The person was dead as dead could be, and here was lightning, interrupting the peace. The woman she was agaist whoever she was, was a human weapon. Deadly skill, combined with decent strength in almost all the elements…forcing herself into calm, Vera banished everything from her mind. Herself, Evaida, the screams, everything. Only Saidar remained. And the woman of course.

 

She had felt the wrath that had come down on her with the lightning. Anger often blinds, she thought with a determined smile. The woman was moving, which wouldn’t do. She needed to stop her. Pain wouldn’t stop her, so it would have to be obstructions. She had to get the remaining people out. Once aagain, she used Air, summoning a large tornado and directing it towards the blond. As she watched the woman being swept away, she rapidly began to weave Water and Air together to set a thick fog around the place. It would cause her difficulties too, but it was for the best if her enemy was weakened. Besides, she had a good sense of direction. Once more Vera wove, all five elements this time combining into an Explosive Ward. If she had her predictions right, the Dreadlady would work straight into it.

 

M'bela had been able to get loose of the air and had goten a look of her foe before a tornado came between them and she had to move fastly to get out of its way. Still it brushed close to her and she ended up in a heap on the floor, griting her teeths she rose scaning for the woman. It was time to get out of here before things got organised and this batle drew the attention of that other Aes Sedai she knew was here.

 

She sent of a couple fireballs in the direction of the woman as her eyes found her while she put up an explosive ward securing the entrance out to the yard as she ran out there. She needed not someone following her into the dream, it was dangerous enough by its own to enter in flesh. She made sure to invert it before entering and then was gone from chaos.

[Caeran]

Caeran heard Carnhains response even if he didnt see the man, so he turned and began pushing and shoving his way to where he thought he had heard the voice coming from. He moved his hand to grab the glaive he used to have on his back but then cursed and realized that it wasnt there. Bloody parties, he thought as he pulled out the two throwing knives he had in his arms and began scanning the area. Fighting was all around, it seemed to be pure luck that he hadnt been attacked yet, and he knew that if a skilled swordsfighter attacked, he would be hard pressed to defend himself with only two knives as weapons. As he saw a familiar face among a group of others that he could have seen before, he pushed even more frantically to get into a comparably safe area. Suddenly he saw a flash of metal to his left ad instinctively threw out with his left hand, letting go of the knife so that it flew and landed in the attacking mans arm and wounded him rather much. The wound distracted the attacker enough so that Caeran could continue his motion and finish it with a knife in the mans stomach, He stabbed again, and again, but the man was already dead. He then bent down and picked up his knife again, before continuing against the Banders. Someone in the band group obviously recognized him, cause the let him in without any body scan or the like, and he let out a small sigh of relief for being with friends again.