Lovely to meet you! Now, are you a fellow Scot or just resident here? Welcome to DM anyway, hope you love it as much as we all do. If you're a Sanderson fan, you might like to check out the Clubs tab up there ^^^ and check out the Cosmere club. That'll save you from any spoilers in the WoT areas. Plenty fans of Middle Earth here too. The Earthsea books are a fond memory from being a kid. Le Guin is a magical storyteller.

Pull up a chair, make yersel' at hame, laddie. 

Also jumped in. For reference, Kiyi's 85 in the current timeline. I think she's the weakest in the OP though. Don't know if that's going to be relevant but just so it's out there. She's a bit...unorthodox...sometimes.

Kiyi's arrival on the scene was achieved very simply and in exactly the same way she arrived on every scene; in her own time.

She was of course also utterly composed. Mostly because she was rarely anything other than composed. It was a fact that had little to do with the typical agelessness of her features, or with her immaculate appearance in midnight blue silks, and everything to do with long practice. Handling the political machinations and manoeuvrings of the various nobility populating the world's courts had made appearing unflappable something of an essential skill. Kiyi had been out of the Tower doing just that for the better part of 50 years. She had only returned, reluctantly, last month in order to touch base with her Ajah and provide a personal report to the Amyrlin. What she had not counted on was being dragged into some random fact finding mission within Tar Valon when she'd much rather be heading back out on the road. 

The diminutive woman was quite certain she could be researching and observing these rumours perfectly well alone, but when orders were handed down from not just one Sitter, but two, it would take an idiot to demur. And so, here she was, primed to co-operate and work with Sisters from outwith her own Ajah. She scanned the two women already present as she joined the waiting group, cataloguing their appearance and bearing, right down to the minutest detail. She was unsurprised to discover that she knew neither of them. Her overall instructions left much to be desired and hadn't even included names.

Kiyi inclined her head politely at the White, which made a few loose, coppery curls dance merrily around her delicate features. Their Ajahs were allies after all and more importantly the woman was stronger in the Power. It wasn't for Kiyi to speak first but she did offer a warm smile that included the Yellow too. Age has to have some privileges after all, the thought was laced with humour. As usual, everyone towered over her, but she'd kept far enough back that she wouldn't have to spend her time with a crick in her neck. That tended to be very inconvenient.

Speaking of inconvenient heights... Kiyi's forthright look directed itself to the youngest member of their party, sweeping over him in a quite thorough examination from head to toe and back again. She nodded approvingly as if matters had arranged themselves particularly to please her. Tower Guards were supposed to be tall. She'd always said so. That was just as it should be. She had no idea what his name was either. 

Random extra characters that Liitha intends to kill off or retire. Active at the moment for padding out RP's as required.

oWial - Freelanders - CotL

https://drpsw.fandom.com/wiki/Owial_Volor_Merran

Aurora - Freelanders - Sea Folk

https://drpsw.fandom.com/wiki/Aurore_Boreale

T'an - Freelanders - CotS (Darkhound)

https://drpsw.fandom.com/wiki/T'an

Elmira Dean - Freelanders - CotS (Darkfriend)

https://drpsw.fandom.com/wiki/Elmira_Deen

The Rascal was filling up now, Ely noted, tilting her head back by the smallest increment to better enjoy the sensation of the warm, amber liquid flowing down her throat. The slow burn as the warmth spread through her chest and stomach was satisfying. It somewhat dulled the ache in her back, leaving a pleasant, hazy buzz behind. She took another sip for good measure and placed the glass back on the table. Training would be largely over at this hour, theory classes coming to a close, troops returning from patrol as yet others headed out; men and women would be seeking hot food and strong ale to wash the day away. Down time. Those few hours with little to no responsibility and the comfort of a little camaraderie.

Her mouth twisted in self mockery. She hadn't ever truly found that comfort. Maybe in the bottom of a glass, but not with people. Relationships didn't go beyond acquaintanceship for her. There was too much alcohol and laughter between herself and Arkin for that to be anything more than superficial so far. The closest she'd come was probably with the medic. There'd been a definite possibility of friendship with Jehryn once, or so she'd hoped. For her part at least. She couldn't speak for him. An intelligent man and one, she'd suspected, who had little interest in women which was always a positive. It allowed her to be completely at ease. A rare state. Their few meetings usually resulted in interesting conversations too. But the man had died in the retreat from Tanchico. Ely had taken ill on the road with fever, and missed the entire mission but Arkin had told her later, very reluctantly, of Jehryn's actions. An unintentional hero. It saddened her deeply to think on lost possibilities.

Had she been lonely all those months? She pondered the question for a few seconds. Maybe a little. But probably less lonely than simply... alone. She'd had to be self sufficient for a very long time. Until now, she turned her head away from her perusal of the room, her eyes flicking to Arinth. He was taking a little time to respond to her question, seemingly caught up in his own thoughts. She'd about given up when he did answer.

"My ribs protest but they know their place. They will be fine. As for the rest, I have little use for that. I avoid it when I can."

The remark was casual, but for Ely, so very telling. It reminded her of their first meeting, and the haunted look behind his eyes that had tugged at her. From all she'd heard of Tanchico it had been nightmare enough, but who knew what other battles he'd seen and what other losses inhabited those early morning hours, taunting him with what ifs and maybes? They all had their demons.

"I am reluctant to ask if you are tired." He said. "You must be, with this being your first time out of bed after your injury. I should tell you to rest but I don't want to lose your company so quickly. That is selfish of me, but I cannot help it."

His words wrapped her around with warmth, comfort and reassurance. Her presence would be missed. By him. This rather miraculous person before her would feel the loss if she wasn't there. His supposed selfishness acted like a salve for all the concerns that had troubled her...was it only that morning? It felt longer. She reached for her glass only to find her hand intercepted and caught gently by his, but his grip immediately loosened.

Anyone trained, as sword fighters were, as they were, to read their opponent's body language, to interpret those minute nuances of movement that could give them a warning, however small, of when and where the next attack would come, would have been able to sense Arinth's imminent pulling away. As finely attuned as Ely was to him in this instance, it was perhaps even less of a wonder that she could, to some extent, interpret the reasons behind his ambivalence. Had they not both done the same a multitude of times since they'd first laid eyes on each other? Searching for contact, needing that contact, yet second guessing it out of doubt or fear of rebuff?

"I am sorry. I have a well developed talent for making a  mess of things it seems."

Ely's own fingers tightened around his hand, preventing the withdrawal, and she leaned further forward. Her demeanour changed like quicksilver as she glared intently at Arinth. "Stop it. Just... stop." 

It was an instinctual protest. Had they not both made their feelings clear? Had she not?

He was opening his mouth to reply, a faint look of puzzlement on his face, but she forestalled whatever he had to say by the simple expedient of touching the forefinger of her other hand to his lips accompanied by a faint shake of her head. There were too many people in the bar now. Bodies were intruding into the safe space they'd had to converse in. Frustration flitted across her expression momentarily. For her to say straight out all the things she wanted to say, without an audience, she'd have to be closer.

Ely's eyes lit with determination as she stood, remembering to make each movement with care despite her impatience. His eyes followed her progress with curiousity, clearly uncertain of her intention, but he didn't have long to wait. She edged the few steps required to reach his side of the table, nudged that highly inconvenient object out of the way a little with her good hip, stepped between his knees and sank onto his lap. She was careful to keep her weight on his right leg and tried to avoid putting any undue strain on his left side at all. Between his broken ribs and the nasty wound on his leg, she didn't want to make matters worse.

She sensed his arm curving automatically around behind her to protect her back from the bustle of the room, and reached around to capture his hand once more, placing it gently on her waist. That she'd deliberately blocked her own sight of the room, giving him the gift of her complete trust by placing her safety entirely in his hands, was a huge step for Ely. One she wouldn't have dreamed she'd take only a few hours before. He had that poleaxed expression again which made her grin. She felt a little that way herself. As if sitting at opposite sides of the table hadn't given her problems enough, this proximity was having all kinds of effects which she struggled to ignore; with very little success. She had to wipe away that hesitation he had once and for all though.

Ely turned her head, placing her mouth next to his ear, pitching her voice low, meant for him alone. "I don't seem to see things quite like you do.  This talent you speak of, is it what helped you to save my life? Does that constitute 'a mess'? Did it make you sit at my bedside watching over my recovery? Was that 'a mess' that you'd prefer never happened?" She lifted her right hand, cupping his face with her palm, tracing a path with her thumb across the scar on his cheek. "Or perhaps you mean this? You consider it 'a mess' that you crave my touch enough to dare to take my hand?"

Ely drew back, holding him with the fierceness of her gaze, allowing him to judge the honesty in her words, in her eyes as they demanded his acceptance of their equality in these intense reactions one to the other. "Did I not invite you here because I wished your company? Grasp your hand first, because I wished your touch?" She felt his fingers tighten possessively at her waist in reply and pressed home her point. "And now... when I see your wish, to touch me in turn, do you think it offends me? You know better. You sense better if you ignore the games your head is playing with you. Do not apologise for taking what has already been freely given. Your touch is wanted, Arinth. You are wanted. If there is any 'mess' here then it is surely one we are creating together." 

DM Handle: Nargbert

Character Name: Nargbert

Age: 20 in trolloc years

Physical Appearance: Belonging to the Ahf’frait tribe, Nargbert has an eagle head with bright, piercing eyes. He is about average height for a trolloc and has a very muscular body. With that muscular body came speed. While not anywhere near the fastest in his tribe he could hold his own in a race.

Character History 

Nargbert grew up living in the Ahf’frait tribe. Becoming a great warrior was all Nargbert grew up hearing. Because of this he started early trying to prepare himself to be the best that there was. Of course this was mixed in with his vicious attitude. He did strength training by throwing boulders at the younger trollocs. Anything he killed he would rip into with his beak tearing at any meat he could find.

Personality 

Loves to kill things. That is the whole reason for striving for the rank of blademaster. He tires of the same old meat. He desires the blood of true warriors. He wants to kill the best of the best and will do anything to achieve that.

Update 2010

What would the trollocs do without Nargbert? Would they give up, lay down on

the ground, and be eaten by blight worm? Would they run around like hoo-mahn

monkies, throwing poo at all in existence? Don't they do that already? Don't

matter, they are all fools. Look at them... drooling, grunting, rubbing up

against rocks. Fool trollocs. They not know what they have in the great

Narg, eagle head and all!

Hmmm... Narg's throne getting kind of squishy. Smells just right... killed

worm only three weeks ago. Maybe time to kill another. Only killed 500

trollocs last time. *sigh* How did Narg come to lead such fools? Yeah, Narg

start as lowly trolloc, running through the lands with those two fools, Monca

and Noggy. But Narg rose, because he was great. Narg invaded the hoo-mahn

lands, killed scores with his Claw! Then he invade again with his Fist. The

blood letting was wonderous!!

Soon, Narg became Tribe leader as Monca and Noggy fled from his greatness.

True, they ended up with their own tribes, but Nargy still greatest. He then

was able to subjugate other tribes and became great overlord! NO! NARG NOT

WANT LEG OF MALE HOO-MAHN! FOOL! Ahem... where was Narg? Ah yes... Noggy,

Roka and Nargy split the trolloc lands between them... then Noggy and Roka

disappeared.

Was it the war with the foolish clean Tower... wait... hoo-mahns call it what?

Ahh, yes... White. Nargy would have won that battle too if it not for silly

Vern... Curse him! Narg bravely made his way back to blight with his

tribes... now he greatest trolloc left.

Tremble before the great Narg! And not just because he smell so rank and

wonderful. Tremble because he great one! He lead trollocs to the promised

land. Narg carries the bleeding sword of greatness! Who cares if it is limp?

It is still great! The Clan leaders of the Ahf'frait still come at his

screech... but Nargy gets bored. Too many female trollocs just want to play

with his pink tail feathers... Narg needs action! Killing! Sliding down

mountainsides and barely surviving!

Uh oh, is that Saar'Eve???? Darn......

She remembered the sounds. The crack of her jaw breaking. The distant strains of music. The crash as a chair overturned. The thud of her body hitting the wall and the thump as she landed in a limp heap on the floor. The ominous sound of heavy footsteps. The sound of her own grunt as a booted foot made contact with her stomach. The loud ringing in her ears as her wind pipe was slowly constricted.

And the satisfying gurgle that issued from his mouth when she slit his throat.

They were all there, those sounds. To this day. Ingrained and preserved in her memory.  The physical pain did less damage and healed more quickly. The emotional pain...

Ely pulled her mind away from that path into darkness and stared at her handiwork in consternation. She'd taken Arinth's fork from him with the intention of cutting his food into bite sized mouthfuls. It seemed the least she could do given some of his injuries were the result of protecting her. She had, however, hacked everything into miniscule morsels during her mind's wanderings.

She hastily moderated her actions, finishing up and sliding the plate back to Arinth with the fork balanced on the side nearest his good hand, hoping he'd noticed naught amiss. She favoured him with a weak semblance of a smile, not quite meeting his eyes, and offered some murmured commonplace before busying herself with her own plate of food. She did little more than shuffle the food around though, appetite diminished by whirling thoughts of the past that, until now, she'd successfully kept locked away.

It was too soon for some subjects to be spoken of, but with those carefully balanced emotions of hers so close to tipping point, the temptation to confide was growing.

How did he manage to get under my skin so? I scarcely know him... and yet... is it fanciful to feel as if I recognise the soul of him?

Even so, the last thing she wanted was to share any details of her past that could make this man see her any differently. It would be so very easy to become accustomed to the look he'd had in his eye only moments earlier.

Ely recognised the intent behind the look; she'd been subjected to such often enough, and her response was always the same. Dismissive indifference. Whether it was fellow guards on the road or Banders in the Citadel, the entire subject left her cold. When others indulged in intimacies, Ely found her way to the nearest bar and indulged in alcohol instead. You knew where you were with a pint of ale. She'd always been that way. Experiences since leaving home may have heightened and honed her avoidance of such encounters, but they hadn't caused it. Her fingertips touched briefly to the scar crossing her temple. That process had begun on the Rahad's streets many moons before.

She glanced surreptitiously at Arinth from under thick lashes. His eyes were tight and his skin had paled in the past few minutes. He was clearly in some pain but there was nothing anyone could do about broken ribs much as she might wish to wipe his discomfort away. Hopefully the healing process would be swift.

Her visual inventory continued, slowly, making the most of his distraction as he wrestled deftly with the process of one handed eating. She was under no illusion. He knew her attention was on him. For one thing he was too good a soldier for his senses not to be attuned to observation, and for another they were each far too deeply aware of the other to not know. Whatever his reasons, he kept his own eyes focused on his plate and allowed her to look her fill.

Which is no hardship, she admitted approvingly, veiled eyes tracking the fall of black curls brushing against solid, broad shoulders which in turn became the muscular arms of a sword wielder. Large, capable hands were covered in the usual array of cuts and calluses resulting from his profession. It brought sharply to mind once more Tris' description of how apparently effortless it had been for Arinth to lift Ely and carry her one armed into the Lodge, despite serious injuries. Ely doubted it had been half so effortless as it had appeared to the young girl. But she could believe, that in full health and with the use of both arms, it certainly would be. She found a deep regret for her unconscious state at the time. The thought slid far too conveniently into speculation about just how those roughened hands might feel on the softness of her own skin, heating her blood and bringing a faint flush scoring across her cheekbones.

 She'd never experienced such instantaneous reactions to anyone before, and that knowledge coalesced into a realisation that was suddenly, blindingly, obvious. When other men looked at her, what she read in their eyes was lust. She was merely a convenience, an object upon which they affixed their wants with no regard for her. And she hated it. Had even come to somewhat resent her own appearance for the enticement it seemed to offer. It had been better to be alone.

But she'd actively welcomed Arinth's attention, and more than welcomed the clear intention expressed in his eyes, because it was rooted in genuine desire. For her. Not for any woman who crossed his path. Quite how she knew that, or how she could be sure it went beyond the purely physical, she couldn't really say. No more than she could say just why he felt so about her in particular. But she knew it for truth.

Yet there remained that lingering doubt. Doubt in her own judgement. She'd been sure she knew something once before. The depths of how wrong she'd been haunted her still. She had no intention of rushing...whatever this was destined to become. Even so, when she dragged her gaze upwards finally, it was to find Arinth watching her carefully in turn. Any pretence or prevarication was immediately impossible. It seemed they would demand honesty of each other no matter the cost. Ely's lashes lifted, her return look direct, hiding none of what she had felt in the preceding minutes and she wondered if he would recognise the raw emotion for the reciprocal desire it was. If there was any fairness in the world his skin should be scorching from the heat of it. Scorching as hers had when he brushed his lips across her hand.

Ely's humour sparked at the idea and she arched an eyebrow at her companion in amusement. They would find their way through this quagmire somehow. Finding that she was hungry all over again, she applied herself to clearing the now cooled food on her plate and then signalled to the serving woman.

"Another couple of drinks, please, Janya. No, not the ale. Spirits. And if Nowal's about, tell him I need a word later, would you?"

With a satisfied sigh, she pushed her chair back a little from the table and stretched languorously, if carefully, crossing one booted ankle over the other. "I may sleep for another month," she commented to Arinth, her smile the kind of sultry that was all the more potent for being completely uncalculated. "Do you need to rest? I can see those ribs are bothering you so don't even deny it."

This was the part of the course Rhya liked least. It was tough. Tougher than all the rest put together in her opinion. She'd completed it many times, and failed it many more. She'd never come to characterise it as anything other than exhausting and unpleasant; unlike the previous section of the Folly's trials which she so much enjoyed and regularly referred to as fun, thorns and all. From the stories told by the other Rangers, they each had their very distinct opinions on which parts of the course they loathed and which they would happily repeat regularly. She knew Owen, for instance, loved surfing the water flume at the end. 

She was about half way up the 200 foot sheer face and feeling the strain in her shoulders when the light rain started. It was that kind of misty damp, drizzle which one could hardly even see, let alone identify as rain. Somehow it managed to soak through to the skin in a matter of seconds and left the rock face slick. Finger holds became incredibly tenuous and every movement was a dance with death. 

Course time be damned!  Rhya thought in aggravation, her keen eyes scanning the granite outcroppings ahead for likely routes. It was more important to complete this round than to do it quickly. Getting herself killed in a cliff face dive was not part of the plan. Slow and steady wins the race.

By 300 feet, Rhya's calf muscles were objecting, the extra time holding positions to ensure her grips were secure was taking a toll, and now she was starting to shiver from the cold. Adrenaline and exertion were no longer compensating for the onslaught from the elements. She rested her forehead briefly against the rock, regulating her breathing as best she could and mentally preparing herself for a last concerted effort.

She'd no sooner begun her next pendulum-like swing, from a position of one handhold and a bare toe hold, attempting to reach a slim ledge that would provide a double handhold, than she found herself in a free slide downwards. Her fingertips slipped as easily as if they'd been attempting to grip ice and her toe was already free of its previous safety. The rock before her seemed, to her panic stricken mind, to fly past far too quickly, though in reality she'd only slipped about 10 feet before her other foot found purchase on a branch protruding at a strange angle and her finger found the tiniest of holes to wedge into. The jarring sensation along her arm told her she'd raxed the muscles and would pay for it later. Better some small pain than lying dead at the bottom of the cliff!

Bit by creeping bit, Rhya moved onward and upward, neither rushing nor delaying but certainly using much more care than before. Her nerves had been well and truly jangled by the incident, not to mention she was nursing the arm injury as best she could. Images of hot food and falling asleep safe in Owen's arms urged her to continue, sparking her natural determination. Her goal here, her reasons for facing this test, were still every bit as valid. One slip was not going to lead to failure. 

Twenty minutes later, Rhya dragged herself painfully up the final foot of the face and onto the top of the cliff. She lay there for long minutes, gratefully gulping in lungfuls of air, fingers clutching tightly at the grass in relief and waited for the burning in arms and legs to subside. She knew she couldn't stay so for too long or she'd risk getting ill from the temperatures. The air was thin up here as it was, and with nothing to break its path, the wind had picked up significantly. Best to get the whole thing over with. C'mon girl. Move.

Finding her feet and persuading her legs to hold her upright was no small achievement but as she finally made her body co-operate, Rhya headed unsteadily for the top of the water flume. Surfing down this turbulence was the only way off the cliff top so it had to be done, but it took some care and attention not to be simply battered off the rocks. She took her time finding the right spot to start from, keeping all of her limbs tightly clamped to her body in order to provide less resistance, and then took off. It was exhilarating, and terrifying at the same time. There was barely time to notice and avoid obstacles as the water moved at such a pace. In fact, time ceased to mean very much as she focused every bit of energy into navigation. 

Finally, movement slowed and the crazy tilting of the world around her stopped as she washed ashore at the usual spot...literally at Owen's feet. With a half laugh of relief and disbelieving shake of her head, Rhya took his offered hand, helping her up onto the bank, and demanded whether she'd passed.

Owen seemed to be considering, his expression giving nothing away and Rhya's heart began to sink. What mistake had she made and missed? Maybe she'd taken too long? Or set off another trap in the woods that she didn't even notice. And then that slow teasing smile she loved, appeared on his face and he nodded. "Yes, you passed, Rhya. Let's get you home and warmed up." Somewhere, she dredged up enough energy to take the two steps needed to sink into the safety of his waiting arms. 

"Thank the Light! I'm in no hurry to do that course again for a long time to come, Owen," she assured him with some fervour. One of his arms fell away while the other supported her waist and they began to walk towards home. 

"And I still hold the course record," his voice was smug enough that Rhya couldn't help but chuckle. 

"Course record or not, you're still making dinner. I could eat a whole horse!" she retorted. Another step on her path to being a Ranger fulfilled, and she wondered what challenge would next be set.

roflmao! That's awesome. 

Post up, folks and apologies for the delay. Let me know if you need anything further.

Shevara turned from her contemplation of the familiar view from her study window reluctantly. One hand stroked absently along the banded stole settled around her shoulders in a movement that had become habitual now. Having started as a reaction of disbelief to her remarkable ascension to this position, it had gradually turned into a seeking after comfort and reassurance. Amyrlin Seat. Even with so much time having passed, she could not quite accustom herself to the title she had not looked to hold. 

Settling herself behind the large, solid desk at the other end of the room, she smoothed a palm once over her pale blonde hair, ensuring naught was amiss with her appearance before her visitors arrived. Outward calm and precision was an important part of seeming in control even when one might not actually be so. These latest tidings had set her on edge. As if there hadn't already been sufficient upheaval in the Borderlands now there seemed to be a potential problem in Saldaea. At least Kandor was somewhat under control again. Her chosen Sisters shouldn't be facing any undue threats and they were capable women, more than capable. 

Shevara focused on signing the few documents left on her desk until a firm, familiar knock sounded on the study door heralding Raslyn's entrance. A brief glance between them was all it took for the Keeper to know she could show the Sisters in and, sure enough, the women filed decorously into the spacious room, dipping suitable curtsies alongside their greetings. Shevara inclined her head in acknowledgement as Raslyn crossed the carpet to stand at her side.

"Daughters. Please take your seats. This meeting will of necessity be brief so allow me to get straight to the point."

She watched each of them carefully; judging reactions, noting tiny details, filing her own impressions away for later evaluation as she continued to speak.

"Word has reached us of a certain situation in Saldaea. It gives rise to sufficient suspicion that I'd like it investigated and handled, quickly and with minimal disruption to the locale, as soon as possible. You will all be aware, of course, of the sensitivity of the situation in Kandor even with the Tower's aid. The last thing we need is Saldaea falling into chaos. Mayhap there is no real problem but my instinct tells me otherwise." Shevara scanned the faces before her, satisfied that she had their full attention.

"A young lordling, presently the last incumbent of the minor House of Chaele, appears to be garnering a surprising amount of influence over the women in the area. We all know how foolish young women can be when their heads are turned by some gallant on a flashy horse," she paused and the women before her nodded emphatically, "but this is impacting women of all ages. Many of whom should know better. Rather than merely making eyes at the man in question, or following him around like lovesick puppies, these idiots appear to be going to extremes. I'm reliably informed that they are actually moving out of the town, which constitutes part of his land holdings, and moving closer to his keep. In some cases, they have moved into the keep proper. Naturally a very noticeable imbalance in the populace has formed as a result of these actions and it's stirring up some unrest, hardly surprisingly, amongst the local men. Particularly those who are relatives of the women."

Shevara carefully folded the sheet of paper in front of her and passed it to Raslyn who in turn handed it to the Red Sitter. "I'm placing you in charge of this expedition, Jagen. All the pertinent details you will need are recorded in that document. Get to the bottom of this, quickly." She fixed the young woman with a firm stare. "And take that Asha'man of yours...what's his name? Aslan, yes... take Aslan with you. It will be good experience for you both to work together outwith the Tower. It will not be said that we shirked our side of that treaty! Now, what else? Ah yes. Additional protection. Conor Palfrey will also accompany the group. Orders have already been sent to him at the Warders Yard. Now, unless anyone has any questions?..." Shevara waited a beat but nobody spoke up, "then we are done here. Safe travels, Daughters."

Shevara Edosian

The Watcher of the Seals

The Flame of Tar Valon

The Amyrlin Seat

(OOC - Hope that'll cover what you need but let me know if you need an edit. Since I don't know who all is participating, I didn't mention specific names. That'll keep it flexible for you. Have fun!) 

On 1/4/2010 at 4:42 AM, sonieb33 said:

I don't have any sources but from what I remember back in the day many marriage rituals included someone watching the marriage being consumated (look it up if you don't know the meaning) because the marriage was not final until they did. A marriage which was not consumated, I think still today but I'm not sure, can be annulled (made as if it never happened).

You are absolutely correct. This was common practice in the Middle Ages when it came to Royalty and people of wealth and/or importance to ensure strong unions and, as mentioned, to avoid annulments. The consummation of Mary Queen of Scots' marriage to Francis, the Dauphin of France, was witnessed in this way. For most people though, it was more of a symbolic bedding ritual (i.e. putting the couple into bed together with witnesses present) rather than a full witnessing of the act itself, or as Cubarey mentioned, it might go as far as checking of the sheets for blood the next morning.

And I can't speak for other countries, but again, you're correct that it still applies today. Certainly in the UK you can gain an annulment of marriage on the grounds of non consummation since the wedding.

It happens. I've done it myself when looking for something. It invariably ends up being somewhere really obvious that I already checked lol.

It's under Other Resources section of the RP Step By Step Guide thread on The Welcome Inn.

DM Handle: Arie
Character Name: Kisathera Nilyron
Returning Character: No
Total PSW Character Count: 6

RP Section: Tar Valon
RP Group: White Tower
Character Rank: Aes Sedai of the Yellow Ajah

Age: 59
Gender: Female
Place of Birth/Raising: Tarabon
Physical Description: Keeping with some traditions of her homeland, she wears her dusty blonde hair in braids of mixed sizes, either pulled back or loose falling just past her shoulder blades. She has large brown eyes, a soft innocent face, and is still too young to show the agelessness of an Aes Sedai.
Strengths/Weaknesses: Despite her time and training in the White Tower, Kisa is preciously naive. Because of her work, she trained under an older Yellow while aiding the Warder Yard victims of training. She has reached the stage where she is strong enough to channel at her full strength, but even still her life is quite sheltered and the Yellows find it both frustrating and endearing. 


Character History

Ok, as long as somebody got back to you. I saw the email notification about the bio. Heading that way next. 

Thanks, lovely. :) And about Conor, did you copy Kyn on that PM as Warder Leader? Was having trouble reading Discord notifications on my phone.

Just home again, will be catching up tonight and tomorrow. Hopefully none of you killed each other or blew any buildings up *eyes Quibs*. Since Kath's on a brief LOA, drop me a PM or tag me if you need anything. 

Thanks for letting me know, Kath. Stay safe.

Greetings @Calindra, welcome to the Role Play Club. If we can help with anything at all, feel free to ask. If any of the members start biting just feed them chocolate. 

Ok, no problems. I'm going to post tonight unless that's a problem for anyone? Can't wait any longer for other people posting as I'm away tomorrow lunch time. Otherwise it'd be Monday.

You can pick any of your characters up and continue on from where they left off sweetie. Not a problem. Find their bio in the Bios (Inactive) board and post the link on the pinned thread on the Bios (Active) board. I'll move them over when I get a sec if it's done before I leave tomorrow. If not, I'll do it Monday. 

Hi Zman, welcome to Dragonmount. You're in a good place to catch all the news and updates, and if you want to chatter about them, there are several Book and TV related boards underneath this one on the main page. Or, if you feel like socialising and chilling, check out the Clubs on the tab up ^^^ there. Lots of topics covered.

I think your concerns are fairly typical of most of the book fans but I like what I'm hearing so far about who's involved on the project. Fingers crossed!

@Arie will it help if the Amyrlin orders Conor along as well to provide general protection for everyone? She may well want Jagen to take Aslan but let's face it, she's going to prefer having one of Tower's own men with the Sisters. That way you can wait until after my post if it's easier for you. Or is it an AS you're having issues with?

Nyn was RGL of the CotL for years, right up to the end of about 2012. Then real life took over and she had to step down. I think claireducky took over briefly and then WolfbrotherKronos, also briefly.