The Last Battle (open)

[Arani Lepenque Aes Sedai]

Salima Tyhar stood on the parapets of Tar Valon, her golden hair falling to her hair as she surveyed the scene before her.  Dawn was breaking over the city of Tar Valon, whatever dawn there was.  Lightning flashed through the sky, the clouds low and black.  Through only narrow cracks was it obvious that the sky was paling, and even then it wasn't often that these narrow cracks showed up.  Sighing, she looked at the ground, the sight before her was even more horrifying than the effect of the Dark One's taint on the world.  Hundreds of Thousands of trollocs, and thousands of Dreadlords.  How was the power of the Towers, the Seanchan, and even the Kin able to stand against the power of the shadowchannelers, who did not care about killing, and its moral effects?

 

The winds blew, and she sighed.  Even though she was of the Green Ajah, she still abhored unneccesary killing.  Her green shawl flapped around her as a wind rose, smelling of waste and rubbish, and decay.  Trying not to notice the smell, she looked and tried to concentrate her efforts on attempting to see the weak points of the army.  But Light.  It was hard.  The odds were piled against them, and it would take all their skill and ability to triumph.

[GrandpaG]

A distant hum called hypnotically.  GrandpaG felt drawn to the deep rhythmic recants.  Soothing.  Calming.  Healing.  He could feel the goodness embedded deep within the currents of the sound.  Peace.  Tranquility.  Healing.  Healing.  Over and over the sounds crashed into his inner being like the waves of Lake Rhuidean crashing against the shore.  He was consumed.  He must find out where they were coming from.

 

Like a moth being drawn to an unseen flame he followed the hum.  Past burned out buildings.  Through the body littered streets.  Ignoring the fires that still raged he trudged onward toward the heavenly healing hum.  Peace.  Healing.  That was where he wanted to be.  Forget the carnage.  Find a safe haven.  Refuge.  Peace.  Healing.  Come.  Come.  Come.  The humming was irresistible.  He had no choice but to go to it.

 

When he finally could see the source of the hum he could not really believe what he was seeing.  The glass columns were echoing the sound and somehow magnifying it.  However, it was no louder here than when he had first heard it several blocks away.  And the columns were not the source of the sound, they just seemed to collect it then retransmit it.

 

The source of the hum was a young Ogier standing beneath the charred Tree of Life.  GrandpaG had heard of Ogier singing to trees but in his long life he had never actually experienced it.  Throw in what the glass columns were doing with the Ogier Song and it all added up to quite an exhilarating feeling.  With each new hum from the Ogier GrandpaG could feel the waves of healing transferring through the tree's limbs.  As if in response to the healing, the tree was offering the gifts of peace and tranquility.

 

GrandpaG remembered those feelings from a brief visit here many years back when the city was still shrouded in a heavy mist.  He had come in to escape the harshness of the Waste.  He wandered about the city for a while gaping at the wonders that the mist hid.  He was surprised to find a tree growing in the middle of the city.  The brief nap that he had taken beneath it's branches was the best rest that he had ever had before or since.  Peace.  Healing.  Tranquility.  The feelings echoed off from the glass columns and penetrated deeply.  Almost deeply enough to erase the guilt.

 

GrandpaG noticed that he was not the only person drawn to the hum.  Peeking nervously from any available hiding spot were people wearing brightly colored clothing.  "Tuatha'an!", he exclaimed to himself.  Of course.  The wagons that he had intended to visit.  The People would have scattered at the first sign of the battle.  They seemed to be drawn to the hum.  Likewise, there seemed to be a growing number of Aiel, mostly bleeding and limping, emerging from the burnt surroundings.  They moved hypnotically toward the hum, too.

 

Curiosity must have replaced fear because the onlookers were soon encircling the Tree.  They watched silently as the young Ogier continued to sing.  They did not seem to disturb him.  None of them spoke.  His Song seemed to have them all in a trance.  Come to think of it, GrandpaG had no real urge to do anything but listen to the soothing sounds himself.  So, that's what he did for what must have been several hours.  It felt good to forget the guilt for a while.

 

 

[Arani Lepenque Aes Sedai]

The new thread for the seige of Tar valon can be found at

 

http://forums.dragonmount.com/index.php/topic,54748.0.html

[Blackhoof]

YAY! You have returned! At long last! ;D I thought that you had died.  :o Where were you?

 

GrandpaD, do you think that your guy is going to join the siege? Can he, please? I have smething really god planned for him and Pherno.  :D

[GrandpaG]

YAY! You have returned! At long last! ;D I thought that you had died.  :o Where were you?

 

GrandpaD, do you think that your guy is going to join the siege? Can he, please? I have smething really god planned for him and Pherno.  :D

 

I answered over there.

[GrandpaG]

The young Ogier appeared to be near exhaustion.  After all of that singing his throat had to be really dry.  Previous experiences with Ogier told him that they had healthy appetites.  Things being as they were there probably wasn't enough food left in the entire city to provide a proper snack for this young fellow.  He could almost imagine Lake Rhuidean dropping a few inches to quench what had to be a monstrous thirst.

 

"Food!  And water!  Quickly!  As much as you can spare!  Go!", GrandpaG shouted to any who were close enough to hear him.  In response he caught plenty of movement out of the corners of his eyes.  Gleemen did not often bark orders...when they did, People responded.  Satisfied that the resources would soon be available to offer the Ogier a proper "thank you", he started making his way toward the youngster.  Youngster.  He was probably crowding a hundred human years.  That was still considered young for Ogier.

 

"Please sit and recover your strength, tree brother.", GrandpaG urged as he motioned to a nearby stoop of a burned out building.  The top step would be just about the right height for the Ogier's behind.  "We should soon have an offering here to repay for your act of mercy.".  GrandpaG offered a grandiose bow, slowly ruffling his cloak to cause the patches to flutter.  He really did want to convey his appreciation.

 

"You are of the People?", the young Ogier strained to get his words out then swallowed some non-existent spit.  GrandpaG slowly arose from his bow and nodded affirmatively.  "I have not traveled with the wagons for two centuries now, but I was born and raised Gredorian Goolaska of the Nestley wagons of the Tuatha'an.  Over the years I have come to be known as GrandpaG.  I no longer have wagons to call my home.", he ended rather sadly.

 

A young Aiel girl appeared with a leather sack of water and quickly offered it to the Ogier.  He nodded thanks to her and emptied it quickly.  Trying not to offend her hospitable offer, he pretended that it hit the spot when in actuality it probably didn't even dent that enormous thirst.  Clearing his throat, the Ogier spoke as best he could.

 

"Thank you, tree sister.  That was most refreshing.".  He gave her a nod of thanks.  Ogier voices normally range very low and rumbling but it was apparent that his throat was still quite dry.  Rather than strain his voice further, he sat back on the stoop to rest.  In short order more water was delivered and consumed along with enough food to feed five healthy humans.  It made a nice snack for the "teenager".

 

OOC:  yes, this is Loial, Rand's friend.  I think I read something about not using characters from the book?  I'll call him Royal.  Roy for short.

 

"I am Royal son of Arnold son of Rick.  I am pleased to meet you at last GrandpaG.".

 

GrandpaG's eyes got wide and his jaw dropped.  "You have knowledge of ME, tree brother?".  He tried not to sound concerned.  What KIND of knowledge?  From what source?  Wait.  He said he was pleased.  "If I may ask, please, how have you heard my name used and where?".

[GrandpaG]

OOC:  although I've thoroughly enjoyed posting here, I think my kind of stuff belongs in a different thread.  I'll pick up over there where I left off here.  Here's the link:

 

 

http://forums.dragonmount.com/index.php/topic,54770.0.html

 

 

Thanks for your indulgence...you can go back to annihilating each other while I go to try to pick up the pieces and give mankind a fighting chance at recovery.  ;)

[GrandpaG]

OOC: to better understand this post, see "Communication in Randland...uhm...stinks." over in the General Wheel of Time discussion.  This post is meant to show that the Light forces could benefit greatly by Elayne discovering a way to make walkie-talkie type communication boxes.  These would be ter'angreal that did not require channeling but that did require a daily changing code.  ENJOY!

 

 

 

"Colonel Reeves.  Can you hear me?".  Silence was the answer.  General Jones didn't like it at all.  Looking at his aide, he shrugged and decided to try something different.

 

"Major Nolan, are you still there?".

 

"Yes, General, I'm here.", came a reply over the talk box.  It was as clear as if Major Nolan were standing on the ceiling with his ear next to the General's ear.  ;D (OOC: there's a commercial like that on TV).

 

"I've been trying to contact Colonel Reeves but he is not answering.  Do you have a visual on him?".

 

"No, sir.  About half an hour ago there was a large fist of trollocs a couple of hills over that were giving Lieutenant Colonel Mares some trouble.  Colonel Reeves went to give him a hand and hasn't come back, sir.".

 

"How many of your heavy horse do you have left, Nolan?".

 

"I'm at about two-thirds strength now, sir.  Last count was just over 600.  I also have about 350 light cavalry for harrying...I lost a lot of them springing that last ambush.  Sir, I still have several companies of pike and crossbowmen if that will help.".

 

"Stand fast for now, Nolan.  I'll get back to you."

 

Jack Jones had dreamed of being a general in a grand battle since he was a teenager.  It was in his blood.  His forefathers had all been military men.  He had been trained by the finest military trainers in all of Tear.  Now, here he was leading a multi-national force in the defense of Far Madding and he felt like he wanted to run and hide.  If not for the Andoran talk boxes, he probably would have.

 

"General Jones!  General Jones!  Come in!  This is Colonel Reeves!  Are you there Jack?  Please answer me!".

 

"This is General Jones.  I've been trying to contact you.  What is your status?".

 

"We're in a helluva mess, general!  Walked right into an ambush!  Hey, you!  Close up that seam over there!  Don't just stand there!  Move!  Sorry, general.  As I was saying, we thought that we were going to chase down a few strays and take care of them.  They led us into a valley then turned on us.  More shadow spawn popped up over both hilltops and still more cut off our retreat route.  We're outnumbered greatly and completely surrounded.  The foot are holding them off for now, but we sure could use some help if you have any, sir.".

 

"Hang in there, Stan.  I've got some help that I can send.  Which direction do you want us to attack from?".

 

"Well, sir, it's a little past noon.  I'd suggest hitting their west flank so that you're coming out of the sun.  That will also be to my rear.  Yes.  That would reopen the retreat route.  That might also be their weakest spot.  For sure, general the west would be best.".

 

"I'll hit that flank in about fifteen minutes.  Can you hold that long?"

 

"Yes, sir, I can.".

 

"Very well.  Nolan, did you copy all of that?".

 

"Yes, sir, I did.  I have Ashamen readying the gateways as we speak.  I'll hit them hard with the heavy horse and send the foot to either side to cut off their retreat.  The light horse can keep any outsiders off from the backs of the foot.".

 

"That sounds good to me, major.  OK with you, Reeves?".

 

"Yes...but, please hurry...I'm not so sure about the fifteen minutes.".  Sounds of metal on metal, yelling, screaming, and horses whinnying could be heard in the background.  The fighting was getting closer to the colonel.

 

"General Jones, this is Lieutenant Colonel Mares.  Do you hear me?".

 

"Yes, I do, Richie!  It's good to hear your voice!  I thought you were done for, son!".

 

"No, sir, I'm fine now.  Colonel Reeves saved my bacon.  I've managed to regroup some of my troops.  I have a couple of hundred lances and maybe 500 foot.  I only have one Ashaman, but I'm thinking that I might be able to distract the colonel's north flank by tickling them with a few arrows, sir.".

 

"It's good to have you back and wanting to fight, but I think you'd be of more use helping at the north side of Nolan's attack.  Can you do that?".

 

"Yes, sir, I will do that."

 

"Nolan, did you hear all that?".  Generals can't afford assumptions.  Leave little to chance.  Must be sure.  Cross the "T" and dot the "I".

 

"Yes, sir.  I'll have help on my north flank.  Glad to have you along for the fun, Richie!  I'll give you a sip of my ale at supper!".

 

"Save the chit chat for later, fellows.  Sounds to me like we can counter the ambush OK if we can put this plan to action.  The problem then will be where to push this bunch.  Or do we want to try to finish it?  Suggestions, gentlemen?".  Jack gave his guys time to think.

 

"If I may interrupt, general, this is general Quim from Saldea.  I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I was resting my troops nearby and overheard quite by accident.  I would like to offer you my assistance.".

 

Jack didn't hesitate.  "SURE!  Your timing is perfect, general!  Nice to make your acquaintance.  Just how many troops are you resting, anyway?".  Jack thought to himself that anything could help.  Especially if his guys wanted to finish the fight.  His guts grumbled at the thought.

 

"Just over 2,000 armored heavy horse, 500 lancers, 5 Ashamen, 10 female channelers, and a few thousand foot.  Just enough for a really BIG dinner tab!".

 

"HOLY CRAP!!!".  Jack had not meant to let that slip out over the air.

 

"Well, I guess that means that you'd like to finish this job, right general Jones?".

 

Jack tried to keep the excitement from his voice.  Once again he said a prayer of thanks to Queen Elayne for coming up with these talk boxes.  "You bet your ass, general.".  He couldn't help smiling.  "As I said before...suggestions, gentlemen?".

[Blackhoof]

Naltark kept yelling into the talk-box that his agents had stolen and replicated from the lightfool forces.

 

"WE NEED MORE TROLLOCS! GET ME MORE TROLLOCS!"

 

"But sir, the nearest fist is 7 kilometres away, it will never get their in time!"

 

"IF IT DOESN'T, HALF THERE PAY!"

 

"But we dont pay trollocs, sir!"

 

"....WELL START PAYING THEM, THEN HALF IT!!!"

 

"Sir, yes sir!"

 

"Darel, have the new dreadlords arrived? THEY BETTER HAVE!"

 

"Fresh from the Fortress, sir."

 

"GOOD!!! Get them BLOWING SOMETHING UP!"

 

"Blowing what up, sir?"

 

"EVERYTHING NOT SERVING THE GREAT LORD, DIMWIT!!!"

 

"Fair enough, sir! Anything else?"

 

"YES, A COFFEE AND A PLATE OF SOMETHING UNHEALTHY! NOW!!!!!"

[GrandpaG]

I think this was my favorite post.

 

 

 

GrandpaG felt his stomach rumbling.  The exiting ale had left his tummy empty.  On a nearby stump that was a massive oak tree the day before, he spotted what appeared to be a chunk of left over roast mutton.  He carefully sliced off a smidgen and tasted it.

 

"Chicken."

 

A little over done, but it definitely tasted similar to fried chicken.  As hungry as he was, he didn't care if it was moose meat.  It tasted good, didn't appear to be spoiled, so he happily gnawed away at it as he wandered through the town gazing at the carnage and trying to decide what to do next.

 

He turned a corner and saw a large open field burned to a crisp with piles of dead trollocs littering it.  Nearby were a few trollocs which had apparently exploded.  Trolloc pieces were spread in all directions including the direction he had just come from.

 

:o

 

"Oh, well...meat is meat."

 

He took another bite of his free meal and continued to ponder his next move as he walked along waiting to regain enough strength to form a gateway.

[GrandpaG]

Danger. Chaos. Near misses. Victory after victory. In this game, a loss meant game over.

 

In Gherim's way of thinking, there was nothing that could ever come close to the thrill of hand-to-hand combat. Ever since he was a young lad growing up in the lowest filth of the Maul in Tear he had thrived on the rush of confrontation. His father was a thief. He had been a thief's apprentice. Not getting caught stealing was nothing compared to not getting killed. With that thought he noticed the black axe coming swiftly toward his left ear. Adrenaline rushed and gave him strength and speed enough to dive away from the axe and roll bringing his long two-handed sword upright in front of him in anticipation of a follow-up swing from the axe's owner.

 

His instinct was answered by the ring of the axe against his blade. The axe's wielder, a goat faced trolloc coming nearer on hoofed feet, squinted in anger at missing the mark twice in a row. In a half growl, half BBAAAHHHH, mixture of trolloc oaths the beast raised it's axe high over it's head and advanced with every intention of splitting Gherim neatly in two from head to groin.

 

Gherim smiled. His patience had paid off. The monster was twice his size. It's drool made his eyes burn. The smell of it was nearly enough to burn his nostrils and upset his stomach. For being a dumb animal, it had fought with unexpected skill. One would not believe that those huge muscles could be so agile. Now the moment was at hand. The end was near. One of them would feel the thrill of victory. The other would know the agony of defeat.

[GrandpaG]

Billy Bob looked around and saw the greatest circus in all the land set up near the soldiers camp. None of the soldiers were doing anything but waiting. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he heard the blood-curdling battle cry of a madman. Out of the entrance of the circus came a man riding an elephant for all it was worth. He wore a bright crimson cape that flagged behind him as he charged full bore toward the shadowspawn guarding the gloomy abode of the Dark One.

 

"Follow me! Come on, now! All of you! Join Valan Luca! Today we defeat the Dark One himself!".

 

More people riding elephants, bears, lions, and all manner of critters from the circus followed their leader. As they were consumed by the first rank of shadowspawn, the soldiers looked at each other questioningly and went back to waiting for the order to advance. Billy Bob took another lick of his ice cream cone, settled back against his tree, and waited for the next show.

 

========================================

 

The inspiration for this can be viewed in the Valan Luca discussion on the general discussion board. :)

 

 

 

 

OOC: I wonder where Valan Luca is as of the end of book 13?

[GrandpaG]

Slush raised himself to as close to a sitting position as he could tolerate. The pain was sharp in his side. He could still see the huge trolloc arrow approaching. He could feel the tip of it separating the skin in his lower left abdomen. He could remember that awful pressure as the spear-like projectile forced it's way through. Luckily it had exited his back quickly and smoothly without hitting any bones on it's way out. The shock of all of this had sent him to the ground and out of the battle.

 

He really didn't understand why he was still alive. He should have bled to death in a matter of minutes. He had been one of the early casualties. The shouts and cries of hand-to-hand battle had raged in his ears for several hours. Why wasn't he dead? Or was he? Maybe he really was dead and only thought that he could still hear dying men and trollocs moan? And horses. That thought saddened him. He liked horses. They should not be forced to endure the dangers of a battlefield.

 

With a wince and while gritting his teeth, Slush forced his eyes to open. He spat out the dirt that had entered his mouth when he had hit the ground face first. Then he gritted his teeth even tighter. Not wanting to turn his head, he moved his eyes back and forth to see what he could. Every direction yielded the same view. Death. Slush was surrounded by bodies. Soldiers of the Light. Darkfriends. Shadowspawn. Seanchan monsters. Mounds upon mounds of motionless bodies. Silent bodies. The moans were gone. The only motion was that of a nearby fade that refused to admit that it was dead. Maybe that was what was happening to Slush? Maybe he and the lurk would both die when dark came? Time would tell.

 

Slush would very much like to stand up. He did not know if he could or not. Just the effort of sitting nearly caused him to pass out. And the pain...the pain was horrible. But, having pain meant that he was not dead yet. Grabbing his pike from where he had dropped it, Slush planted it firmly on the ground and stood it upright. Slowly and carefully, cringing all the while, he gradually pulled himself to a hunched over upright position. He clung tightly to his makeshift crutch.

 

The bodies were stacked atop each other all around him. He could barely see over them. Apparently, a greater portion of the battle had been fought not on the ground but atop the bodies covering the ground. Layer upon layer. How many had died here today? He couldn't begin to guess. Many appeared to have been burned or torn asunder...probably by the One Power. That thought made his shudder. A trolloc's arrow was much better than a fire ball or lightning bolt. The pile of bodies ended in a nearly perfect circle all the way around the spot that he had fallen to. He should have been at the bottom of the pile there. He should have been crushed to death.

 

"The Wheel wills...", came the memory of his aunt Claudia who had gone away to study at the White Tower. Slush had always thought that she must be crazy to want to learn to be an Aes Sedai. Much better to be a soldier. Practical. Useful. Honorable. Maybe there was something to all of that stuff that she used to preach to him. How else could he explain the fact that he was not dead? He should be dead.

 

Slush used his pike to help him to climb the nearby pile of bodies. For as far as he could see there didn't appear to be any other depressions in the sea of carnage. His was the only spot that was not level. It appeared that he was the last sole survivor of the Last Battle. Since he walked in the Light, that meant the Light won. Slush allowed himself a brief shout of "HOORAY" in celebration of the victory. Then he found a nice, soft bear-headed trolloc to cuddle up next to. He'd just rest there for a while until someone came to his rescue.