I'm totally down for a new thread. Heck, I could bring in my Dedicated character. I've been looking for an interdiv for him for a while, anyway. lol.

As to what happened to your ear, I believe it was an infection of some kind.

Whatevs, dorkette.

Whatever you did to fix your ear, it made the upper half of my left ear hurt for two days. Makes it very hard to post without headphones blasting music into my head. And no I don't like most holidays. Don't worry, dear. I haven't read yours either.

As to the rping, Keyholder, I blame Chikara and Phelix. Unless you want me to continue in that thread. In which case, I will! lol

I believe in your recuperative abilities, Raeyn.

And I'm the one who uses "Taste the power of the Dark Side." So? Also, pssh, this thread went off topic long ago. I'm totally allowed to interject my opinions into the conversation. I mean, Christmas? Really? (Humbug, by the way. Possibly bah as well.)

Also some more, neck, arms, AND shoulders? Sweet gibblin' giblets, what kind of crick did you have, Raeyn? How did you get a crick of such power? Because I'm pretty sure my shields can't repel spasms of that magnitude.

*Looks at Rash's post and walks away, slowly shaking his head in disbelief*

No one connected to my brain can possibly have "nice thoughts". My mind is a seething black hole of evil. It draws every ounce of goodness into it's gaping maw, thus destroying them in a horrifying display of strength and brutality.

Also, hi Keyholder! *Waves*

Further woots! Woots all around!

I am totally down with letting Baran getting stomped on for a while.

As the title states, I have a Dedicated, and I'm looking for an interdivisional rp for him. Who's looking for fun times with an Asha'man-to-be?

Already posted there, sorry Clepto. Going for the Finisher Achievement.

Baran took a bite his Power-cooked breakfast, a slab of beef that had been left over from the previous night's meal. The Keeping weave was an amazing thing. He was learning to appreciate the more mundane uses for the Power, the small conveniences that made life in the Black Tower easier, in some ways, than his life had been back before coming. He could heat a bath almost instantly, if he had the water for it. He could keep a meal from going stale until he needed it. He could even light a fire in a hearth without having to gather wood to do so. He didn't smile outwardly, but the warm glow that would have gone with one still rose in his chest. Yes, he could save time doing things with the Power, but all the comforts it provided was nothing next to touching Saidin itself. He couldn't imagine living without it now.

The thought brought to mind all the men who had been burnt out in their training. He pitied them, but at least their losses could be blamed on them, or at least on accidents that happened around them. The lion's share of his pity went to any poor fool the Aes Sedai managed to lay their hands on. The idea of what those women did chased the momentary happiness away. Burn them! Burn them all to ash! Better to be executed than be Gentled by those murderous witches!

He snorted. "Gentling", they called it. What an insult. You gentled an animal, and the animal at least still had the will to live. No, he had no intention of letting one of those...those women get catch him unawares. He was jerked from his angry reverie by the feeling of a man channeling nearby. Not that it was uncommon for men to be channeling in the Black Tower, he just hadn't expected anyone to be channeling that close to him. He turned, and saw Nandiel holding a flame out to a man on a horse. He looked the pair over with an appraising air. Another Andoran. Just what he needed. Was he ever going to see another Cairhienin?

He walked over to them, catching the end of the conversation. A quick glance behind them told him all he needed to know. While most of the traffic was spreading around them, a small number of the carts and mounted travelers were starting to back up. The middle of a street was no place to perform tests. He fixed a stern look on his face and started to speak as he finished his walk over to them.

"You can channel, congratulations. Now why don't you clear the road so people can be on their way?" He gestured further down the road, in the general direction of the Soldier's Barracks. "You can get a bed and a uniform down at the Soldier's Barracks. Nandiel knows where it is." He said, with a nod for the other Andoran.

What? Posting to be done? *Mrgh* Well, if no one else has jumped on it by the time I come back from doing a little Christmas shopping, I'll take care of it.

Baran was deep in thought, still trying to sort out what all had happened, when the Officer assigned to investigate what had happened arrived. Baran heard him approach, and lifted a tired head to see who it was. A slight widening of the eyes was the only sign the young Dedicated gave that he recognized the other man. Skechid, the man who had taught both his first class in channeling, and then his first class in learning the sword. Not a man that had seemed overly concerned in anything other than...well, not overly concerned with anything, really. Why would they have chosen him to investigate the death of a Soldier? A Soldier that was ready to raised to the Dedicated, to be sure, but a Soldier nonetheless.

The Storm Leader explained the reason he had come, which Baran already knew, even going so far as to offer extra healing in return for the information he was seeking. The attempt at...bribery, he supposed, caused Baran's back to stiffen. Really, the idea that he wouldn't be forthcoming without some kind of extra incentive to tell the truth was just insulting. The irritation didn't show on his face, but the words that came from his mouth were definitely heated by it.

"What happened? My friend, Jholan, went mad, and tried to kill me. I killed him first, though." The last sentence was softer, quieter, as though Baran still couldn't quite believe what he had done yet, himself. He went on to give a mostly accurate account of the fight between himself and Jholan, though he left out that they had both been practicing outside the walls of the Black Tower. No need to get himself in any more trouble than he was likely already in. Besides, if they had already talked to the other Dedicated on the scene, they probably already knew where he and Jholan had come running in from.

As he spoke, Baran looked down at his hands, still twisted from a cave-in at the mine he had worked in before coming to the Black Tower. Maybe the man could really do something about them, about the way they ached whenever the weather changed, or the way they hurt when he gripped anything tightly. He quickly pushed the ideas out of his head. No, he would do his duty because he had sworn to obey, not because he was offered a reward for doing so.

"I wouldn't want the scar gone at any rate. Something to remember Jholan by." Baran actually grinned. Partly at the idea of a scar being a gift from a friend, but more at what Jholan would most likely say about it. The tears that suddenly filled his eyes surprised Baran. He blinked them away by reflex, more confused than anything else. This wasn't him! At least not the way he acted. If a man cried, it was alone, away from where others saw him! There must have been something in his eye, that was all. Probably some dust, or maybe a bit of something lodged in it from the fighting.

"Oh, are you?" Baran affected a surprised tone, his voice rising slightly in pitch. His face, however, he forced to smoothness. If this was all it took to break his self-control, he would have to work to remedy the weakness. He had to be harder than that, had to remember that Soldiers were tools, means to an end. In this case, as he hoped would be in most cases, that meant they had to stay alive. He glanced at Lir's arm. "Well, I see you've been Healed. No problems there, I hope? How about your head? Not in a hurry to try drawing too much of the Power again?" He formed the Void, and his voice grew colder, emotionless. "Follow me."

Baran strode quickly towards the hill he had felt the men channeling behind earlier. They were still there, them or others like them, at least. His pace quickly took him up the side of the hill, managing to avoid rocks hidden by a thin layer of snow not by any trick of the Power, but by experience born of walking uphill in the dark of the mines. He stopped his march just before the hill crested and turned back to Lir. "There are men filled with the Power on the other side of this hill. You probably won't feel them yet, since today is your first day of channeling. That doesn't mean you can't learn something of the Power from watching them, though. You see, every weave of the Power can be rendered down to five individual components. Fire, Earth, Air, Water, and Spirit." Baran recited, ticking the elements off on his fingers as he spoke their names. "Men can see the weaves of other men, can see how the weaves are made. Women can't see what we do, though we can't see what they do, either, so I suppose it balances out in the end."

He pointed over the crest of the hill. "When we go over that hill, I want you to Seize Saidin again - just a trickle, mind you - and see if you can't make out the elements being used. Just the elements. The weaves we'll deal with later." Finished with his short lecture, Baran strode to the top of the hill and looked down on the men channeling. Another class of Soldiers, good. Nothing too complicated for another Soldier to have to try to puzzle out.

Baran simply watched, listened as the young man told his story. It was hardly unique. He had heard others like it after coming to the Black Tower. He knew well the pain caused by the untimely death of a loved one. At least here, it sounded like the girl might be alive. Or not. This Gavin might be holding something back, or maybe forgetting the death was simply a symptom of his madness. Glancing at the tree, Baran decided it would probably be prudent to not ask him about the fate of his sister. At least not without someone Shielding the fellow.

"I think," He started, then paused, thinking his words through carefully. "That the loss of a loved one is never easy. However, that is no reason to allow your emotions to cloud your judgment." He gestured to the tree. "What if there had been someone hiding behind that? You might have injured them. It seems to me that self-control is one of the most valuable tools an Asha'man has." He stopped again, letting his words sink in.

"That said, don't give up hope that you won't find the people you're looking for before the Last Battle. I've heard that things tend to go...strange around the Lord Dragon. They say the Pattern twists around him. Maybe you'll prove yourself skilled enough to get assigned to him." Baran marveled at the words that had just come out of his mouth. Barely seconds after he had told the Andoran not to let his emotions get the better of him and he was already offering an incentive to push through the training in a way that appealed to the fellow's emotions. There was no way that it would work.

Over? OVER? Just let me get something to eat and we'll have that fourth post done in short order. *Trundles off to Wendy's*

Baran sighed and looked up at stacks of raw material he had to sift through. It was a task that might have been a bit more intimidating back when he had been a Soldier, back when he was still learning to use the One Power. The wood had been shipped in from the Braem wood, just north of the Black Tower. The stones...well, the stones hadn't needed to be shipped in. Those were easy enough to find, though Baran had to marvel at the amount of boulders the Asha'man managed to unearth. Some of them reminded him of the rocks from back home. He had heard tales of a giant statue being unearthed near Cairhien. Maybe some of the boulders were sold off from that project. He smiled wryly and shook his head. No, not that possible. It would make more sense for the Tower to use local stone. It was free, and so was the labor. Still the pile would take some time to get through, especially because he wasn't sure how he was going to turn them all into blocks for use in the walls.

The wood pile would be a bit more easy. He just had to make beams out of the giant tree trunks. Beams of varying lengths, to be sure, but it nothing too difficult. Razors of Air would do for most of those. The only hard part would be making sure none of them were too damaged for use in whatever projects they were being allocated to. He had been given a small corner of the practice yards to work in, so he didn't even have to worry about Soldiers and townsfolk scurrying about underfoot. He unbuttoned his coat and tossed it down next to his sword and sheath. He was going to work up a sweat in this task, and in his opinion, it was far easier to get mud out of the coat's wool than the stink of sweat. As to the sword, he wouldn't need it for this work.

As he got to work, Baran had to wonder if he was being punished for something. Such massive piles weren't exactly common in the Black Tower, what with having plenty of Soldiers to do the work usually. Unless they had lost more Soldiers to burnout and death than usual, there was no reason for a Dedicated to have to do this kind of job. He didn't mind the work itself, it was easy enough, but the connotations that went along with having to do it. It was beneath him, wasn't it? He hadn't seen many Dedicated other than him doing this kind of work. Most of them worked more in a supervisory role than as laborers. Another wry grin crossed his face. No matter how far he got from home, he always seemed to be thrust into the same role.

Lifting things with the Power had gotten much easier soon after his promotion. That didn't mean that lifting the tree trunks was exactly easy, though. They were large, larger than the small logs and rocks he was used to moving around. The first one he moved made him break out in a sweat, and he was already straining halfway through the large pile. He continued though, glad he had taken his coat off. Maybe he should have removed his shirt, as well. He could feel the dampness spreading down the front, back, and sides as he continued to lift and cut logs. Flows of Air swept down the center of the trunks first, separating them into halves, then quarters as the same flows of Air and reversed direction. Flows of fire burned the bark off what had been the outer shell of the tree, leaving the wood beneath only slightly browned. As much as he wanted to guess at the length, he had to measure and mark the cutting points when cutting the massive beams into smaller planks and even logs for fires. The last he didn't worry so much about burning. A little fire damage would just make them easier to light later. The stack of firewood was by far the largest. It was a cold winter, as though the weather was making up for the long, hot summer by making it colder, faster than it had in...well, longer than he could remember, at least.

At last, he was done with the wood. He was drenched with sweat. His nose wrinkled at the smell before he realized what he was doing. When he did realize it, he almost laughed. He had spent almost his entire life in that smell, how was it that he even smelled it anymore, much less find it unpleasant? The last thought made him chuckle, and he shook his head as he walked over to the pile of boulders.

It was even larger than he had thought, as were the boulders themselves. Yes, there had to be an Asha'man somewhere in the camp with reason enough to hate him. Or maybe whoever it was was starting to go insane from the Taint. Whatever the reason, he had been given an inordinately large amount of work to do by himself. He looked over his shoulder at the sun. It wasn't there. He looked up, surprised. The sun had already hit it's zenith and was beginning to arc back down towards the horizon. Where had the time gone? He channeled again, Earth this time, and pulled a boulder down from the pile. As it bounded towards him, he channeled Earth again, causing the rounded stone bounding towards him to split in two, falling to the ground in pieces well short of where he was standing. Baran, starting to get an idea as to how he was going to complete his task, continued weaving Earth. It was one of his strongest elements, so the work went much faster than the wood had gone. He continued to weave, the flows almost dancing around the boulders. Large stone blocks almost seemed to drip off the two halves of the boulder he had split. When he was done, he stacked the blocks of stone next to the beams and logs.

He turned back to the pile of boulders, smacking his lips in anticipation. His lips, he realized where dry, almost to the point of cracking. Surrounded by the Void, with Saidin coursing through him, his body often seemed distant, like the flesh of another man. Still, if he was thirsty, he needed to drink. The shaped a small cup from the scraps of the boulder he had just finished reducing to usable blocks. He wove again, Water this time, spiraling out into the air and down into his newly-made cup. The cup filled slowly, Water being one of his weakest elements. It made new beads of sweat pop out on his face, but it needed to be done. He actually had to stop a few times and toss back what he had to wet his throat before continuing. He had a full cup soon enough though, despite his best efforts to keep it empty. He drank until he couldn't take another sip, no use in having to do this again before he finished, and set the cup to the side. He would fuse it into another block soon enough.

Baran got back to work on the stones. The sun was definitely setting now, glaring down into his eyes enough to blind him. He put a hand up to shield his eyes and continued his work. He stopped pulling them down from the pile, just shaping them where they were and using some of the leftover stone to form a sloping slide, where the blocks soon started to jumble together in an uneven pile. Not all of the blocks made it all the way down the slope, though. Quite a few slipped from the sides, landing in giant squelching splashes of cold mud. Baran grimaced as mud spattered across the front of his shirt. He didn't relish the thought of the laundry he would have to do.

He continued to work, only stopping when he realized that he was squinting to see what he was doing. The sun had gone down, apparently. He channeled at the air overhead, Air and Fire twisted together to make floating Orbs of Light that glowed bright enough to let him see what he was doing.

The young Dedicated grimaced as he adjusted the slide. He had hoped to finish this work before supper. That time had obviously passed. The other Dedicated were probably gathered around the table at the Barracks, tearing hunks out of pieces of chicken and laughing about the work that “the boy” had to do. The irritation threatened to shatter the Void, fragile as it was from hours of concentration and work. He was quick to berate himself for his weakness. There were sure to be battles that lasted for days, and a fist of trollocs wasn't going to care if he had been channeling all day. With that in mind, Baran soldiered on.

Finally, finally, the stone rested in tall piles next to the wood. Reorganizing had actually been worse than making the blocks had been. His work done, Baran finally let go of Saidin. Without the Power filling him, Baran fell backwards into the mud. He could feel the mud seeping into his clothing, but it was cold enough that he didn't even care. After what seemed like a few minutes, but was probably more like an hour, Baran stood, caked in mud, and tucked his jacket and sword underneath his arm, stumbling out of the yard and towards the barracks. Light, he was tired. If there wasn't anything left to eat in the barracks, he would...would....well, he didn't exactly know what he would do, just that it would be unpleasant for the other Dedicated.

He soon reached the door to his barracks. He looked down at himself and grimaced. Better go and get himself clean. He had already taken a step when he realized he didn't need to trouble himself with washing. The drying weave was too much for him to handle in his current state, but what about weaving Earth in a similar fashion? He thought for a moment. It would look something like the Shaping weave, he supposed. He Seized Saidin again, gasping at the strength of it, at how weak he was. It was dangerous to channel as tired as he was, especially for something as menial as dealing with mud. Still, it would likely be just as tiring going and dunking himself in water, then drying himself. He would have to channel anyway, wouldn't he? Better to do it now, with an element he was stronger with.

The mud sloughed off him in thin sheets, plopping around him in what sounded and looked like piles of cow manure hitting the ground. His clothes were still wet, still brown in places where he wouldn't be able to get the mud out of the fabric until he could channel more effectively. Mud still squelched in his boots, but he didn't dare to channel any more. Not that he could, tired as he was. He let go of the power, leaning heavily against the side of the building to support himself for a moment before pushing off and stumbling to the door. He let himself in, stumbling more by memory than anything else to his bunk, offering mumbled apologies to the other Dedicated as he bumped into other bunks and tripped over boots tucked up next to the beds in question.

“Dholwin,are you drunk?” One of the other Dedicated asked incredulously, his voice still thick with sleep. “Oh no, you didn't do all that work in one day, did you?”

Baran blinked. Weariness had dulled his wits to the point of confusion. “What?”

A low chuckle rose out of the darkness. Apparently the talk had woken another Dedicated. “You didn't finish reading that letter with your orders, did you?”

Baran turned his head to face the other voice. Sounded like Rashma, though he wasn't sure. “No. Reading takes me too long, and I wanted to get the work out of the way.”

This time both voices laughed. “Baran, that work was supposed to take you the next two days. Remember, all the Soldiers are out learning formations.”

Baran gaped, the rare display of emotion ample evidence that he was both tired and forgetful. The other two laughed again before he felt one of them Seize Saidin. A simple weave of fire made a small flickering candle flame that danced on the fellow's palm. It was enough light to let Baran stumble the last few feet to his bed, where he allowed himself to fall. He was asleep before he even hit the thin mattress, his booted feet hanging off the edge of the bed, much to the amusement of his fellow Dedicated, who, after a few more chuckles, turned over and got back to their own slumber.

"Light!" Baran swore as he felt the amount of the Power Lir was handling, far more than any Soldier should have been safely able to unaided. He Seized Saidin again and wove a Shield. Before he could throw it between Lir and the True Source, however, the young man had already let go and sunk to the ground, smoke rising from his body. Baran Shielded him anyway, just in case the fool kept trying. Having his first student die would be just what he needed. He would never be allowed to teach again. He wanted to punch the Light-Blinded idiot in the mouth, but given his current state, it would probably be a bad idea.

He grabbed the Andoran's head instead, holding it between his hands. He wove Spirit the way he had seen the men in the Healer's Tents use it. Delving, it was called. Unfortunately, he didn't really have the training to know exactly what the weave told him. He knew it probably wasn't good, though. He let go of the fellow's head and stepped back, releasing the Source and looking him over. Part of him wanted to keep going with the lesson no matter what the man's arm looked like. He was only a Dedicated though, and that was more an action for a full Asha'man, or maybe a Storm Leader.

"What possessed you to-" Baran paused, collecting his thoughts. It would do no good to let his anger get the best of him. "I hope you will learn from this experience. You are lucky to be alive, much less still able to channel." Light, could he still channel? What if the goat-brain had managed to burn himself out? "Never draw more of the One Power than you can handle, and never, ever try to push past that pain. Mother's milk in a cup, I told you to try for length, not-" He stopped again, mastering his emotions.

"Go get yourself Healed and then report back here." Baran said, his voice tight with suppressed anger and the fear it masked. He pointed back the way they came, out of the Training Field.

"And Soldier? Move quickly."

Baran spent the time waiting for Lir to return getting himself under control, eventually mastering himself to the point where he could form the Void and Seize Saidin. Anger still raged outside the Void, just as Saidin raged within it. Baran took it out on the ground nearby, weaving Earth and Fire until he was virtually surrounded by craters. With a deep breath, Baran let go of the Power, pushing it away until he could no longer hear it's call. Unfortunately, he was still angry.

“Bloody, goat-brained fool.” He mumbled as he turned around to see if the Soldier had returned.

OOC: Excellent. Thumbs ups all around! *Distributes the thumbs in upward positions.*

IC:

"Yes, I believe you have." Baran said dryly, nodding slowly. In truth he had felt the exact moment the other man had Seized Saidin. He wasn't sure if there wasn't something beautiful in seeing another person touch the One Power for the firs time or not. On one hand, the man had sentenced himself to a horrible, horrible death. On the other, he could do things, feel things now that most people could never imagine. He could still remember his first reaction to feeling the Taint. He had done almost exactly the same thing that Lir had done.

"The question is: Can you do it again? Will you be able to hold it longer? And the next time? And the next? You've only taken the first step towards becoming a contributing member of the Black Tower." Baran paused for a moment, wondering if perhaps he was being a little too hard on the fellow. "But it IS a step." He clasped his hands behind his back again and stared thoughtfully at Lir before speaking again.

"If you think you are able, I want you to try to take hold of Saidin again. If you can, I want you to hold onto it for as long as you can. You will find that the more you practice with the Power, the more you are able to do with it." He glanced at the other man's sword. "Like working the forms with the sword"

Baran looked in the direction he felt other men channeling, on the other side of a nearby hill. They were close enough, for now. No need to try to get the Soldier to Seize Saidin and walk at the same time just yet. He looked up at the sun, now just starting to rise above the horizon. Hopefully they would be able to finish this up before he ended up with the light in his eyes.

"Don't worry if it takes too long. The first times are always the hardest." He wasn't sure why he felt he needed to say it again. Maybe it was because the other man seemed worried about wasting time, or maybe it was because he felt that people did better work when it wasn't rushed. No need to put the other man completely at ease, though. "The only time you'll need to start worrying is if you stop trying." The grin he offered was a bit cold, but warmer than Skechid's had been back when Baran was learning to channel.

It was hard for Baran not to frown at the frank admission from his trainee. What was the point of training for the man if he already knew the Flame and the Void, not to mention the fact that the Andoran could already sense the True Source? It was enough to make him want to growl, or at least sigh in frustration. Even if it meant not having to spend time coaching a Soldier through assuming the Void, or describing the feeling of Saidin floating just out of reach, it was irritating. He had almost been looking forward to abusing a recruit learning the first hard lessons of the Black Tower. After all, he had had to go through the same thing when he had first joined the Black Tower.

Instead of growling, Baran exhaled softly- not a sigh -and continued walking. "There is a reason most men call touching the One Power Seizing. You certainly aren't going to get Saidin to come to you. As to the Taint...well, I would say both the Taint and Saidin are each things that need to be experienced rather than described."

As he spoke, Baran's thoughts drifted back to the first time he had touched Saidin. It didn't seem like it had been all that long since he had first begun to channel, and to tell the truth, it really hadn't been that long. Still, he had grown in strength and skill since then, and his first, bumbling attempts at channeling seemed almost laughable now. No doubt this Soldier would be any different. Unless he had somehow had an Asha'man for a sword instructor.

"Don't forget that Saidin wasn't always cursed, only after the Lord Dragon sealed the Dark One in his prison was it Tainted. I sometimes like to think that we'll have an opportunity to pay the Dark One back for cursing us at Tarmon Gai'don." He allowed a brief smile to cross his face. He had heard some of the other Dedicated say that bonding with the Soldiers was a good way to get them through the first few weeks of training without giving up and trying to run. It certainly couldn't hurt to try, though it went against his own personal tastes.

Baran suddenly stopped, standing in a half-frozen patch of mud like any other in the field. "Now, why don't you try to touch the One Power? Be ready for a fight, and don't worry if you lose the Void a few times." He stepped back and Seized the Power, readying a Shield just in case the other man looked as though he were about to burn out.

Baran looked at the older man, surprised at the fellow's age. It made sense that they would be accepting anyone who could channel, and the Andoran was still by all accounts a young man, but Baran had never expected to be training someone older than him. At least the man wasn't taller than him. That would have been almost unbearable. Lir greeted him as he drew closer, even going so far as to salute him. In response, Baran arched an eyebrow, surprised. His new rank was going to take some getting used to. He had learned something of how to act and react by watching other Dedicated. Hopefully that would be enough until he learned more through experience.

"I have very little in store for myself, Soldier. You, however, will not be nearly so happy to see me after today." Baran hefted the pork in his hand as though weighing it. "It is customary in the Black Tower for Soldiers to eat their food uncooked until they have learned enough of the One Power to cook it." He Seized Saidin and wove air to levitate the meat and tied it off, leaving the pork to dangle in the wind. He unbuckled his sword from around his waist and left it under the prospective breakfast to mark it as his.

"If you progress to my satisfaction during this session, I will cook that food for you. If you do not, you will eat it raw, the way the rest of your fellows back at the barracks are probably doing as we speak. As to what you will be doing..." Baran held his hand out, channeling a small flame into existence, allowing it to dance atop his palm. "You will be learning to do this."

He gestured for Lir to follow and began to walk further into the Field, towards where he felt other men channeling. Other Soldiers and Dedicated channeling, no doubt. "Now, what do you know of channeling Saidin? It's important for me to know where to start with you."

I believe a woot is in order?

Let the madmen ride the Winds of Time!

Well, there goes my plan to throw exploding Narwhales at the White Tower. Sorry, Marquis. Anyway, here's the thread, as promised. Have fun!

http://www.dragonmount.com/forums/topic/53827-introduction-to-channeling/

It was dark. Good. Baran Dholwin strode northeast, towards the Soldier's Barracks. One of the responisbilities that came with his new rank was to participate in the instruction of new recruits. Most Dedicated held large classes in order to get the most training done with the largest amount of Soldiers. It was a fairly efficient method, but not one Baran had chosen to follow. Instead, he had decided to pick one Soldier at random out of the fairly large pool of new Soldiers and devote all his energy to training that one Soldier. He could train one Soldier more quickly than a large group, which would leave him with more time to pursue his own studies. It also meant he was almost guaranteed to produce a living, channeling Soldier rather than a pile of ash.

He soon found himself at the Barracks where his randomly selected target was no doubt sleeping soundly. He adjusted his coat, making sure the high-collared affair was straight, as well as making sure the freshly-shined silver sword pin was prominently displayed on the left side of his collar. With a deep breath he opened the door and stepped into the darkened interior of the building. He was greeted with the snores of sleeping men. A rare smile crossed his face as he Seized Saidin and wove Air into a thunderclap. The noise reverberated within the walls of the large building, actually causing a few panes of glass to shatter. He grimaced at the unintentional destruction. He would no doubt be replacing those as soon as the higher-ups found out who had done it. Well, someone would have to. He might well be put to work somewhere else entirely. There was always work to be done in the Black Tower.

The men reacted in a wide variety of ways. Some bolted upright in their bunks, other bounced straight out of bed. Others screamed and leaped straight out of their beds, some even landing in crouches that made Baran think they had seen combat. He channeled a small globe of light into existence above his head, making sure that everyone's eyes would be drawn to him. After he was sure he had been noticed, he wove again, this time amplifying his somewhat quiet voice so that it would carry to every ear in the room.

"Soldier Lir Gilbearn, you are to report to the Eastern Training Yard in fifteen minutes. The rest of you should go find something to eat and some work to do."

With that, Baran turned and left the Barracks. He strode back to the barracks he shared with a few other Dedicated and channeled himself some porridge. He ate it slowly, taking his leisure while he waited for time to pass. After twenty or so minutes had crawled by, Baran stood and walked out to the eastern practice yard with a slab of uncooked pork in his hand. He remembered how much he had hated it when he was a Soldier. Here's hoping this Andoran would hate it just as much. It would give him a reason to learn quickly.

He stepped out onto half-frozen mud of the Training Yard, pork in hand. It would be interesting to see how his first attempt at teaching another man to Seize Saidin would go.

Excellent! I shall have something up within the next two days. Be prepared!

Baran stepped out of his barracks, still buckling his sword around his waist. The weapon was fairly nondescript, the slightly curved blade of a simple soldier. The hilt was a solid piece of steel, wrapped in leather to make it easier to grip. It rested at his hip in an equally simple brown leather scabbard. He had been practicing with it almost as soon as he had requisitioned it from the Tower's stores of weapons. It had seemed the thing to do after his first few lessons in using weapons. His growing prowess in both the blade and the One Power had recently been rewarded with the silver sword pin of the Dedicated. He relished the advancement in rank, just as he relished the new responsibilities he had been given along with the promotion. Training Soldiers just meant more opportunities to be remembered, even if it was only as person who had trained a particularly effective Asha'man in his first days at the Tower.

He took a deep breath, enjoying the cool morning air for once. It was easier now that he wasn't in the practice yards, freezing his rear off waiting for an instructor to materialize to provide some kind of instruction. Instead, he and Jholan had scheduled some time to spar. Jholan in particular had been somewhat insistent on setting the time aside. He had recently commissioned a new blade to use. Where he had come up with the gold to commission anything was a mystery to Baran, but seemed to be one of those questions he didn't really want the answer to. He set off not for the practice yards, but for a small section of the forest surrounding the Black Tower. They had chosen the spot soon after they had joined, deciding that it would be better to fall on grass while they practiced than the mud churned up by the feet of hundreds of Asha'man in training over the years.

Baran easily made it through the Tower's walls, still under construction around the perimeter of the Tower's grounds. He broke into a jog as soon as his feet hit the ground on the other side, loping easily through the snow-covered leaves that lay along the forest's floor. The designated spot was a small clearing surrounded by a series of singed stumps, the only remaining evidence of tests with the Power that had left the pair somewhat singed themselves. He slowed to a walk as he entered the clearing, glancing around to see if Jholan had beaten him to the meeting place. He had, of course.

The supposed Ex-Tinker was moving through the forms with a sword unlike any Baran had seen in his admittedly short time in using them. The blade of the weapon was mostly unremarkable, with the slightly curved blade that seemed to be the standard to most swords. The only thing that stood out for him was what looked like the head of some kind of lizard jutting slightly out from the hilt, molded so that it seemed to be holding the blade to the rest of the sword with it's mouth. What Baran thought was supposed to be a ruby was situated at the creature's neck. However, Baran knew a piece of colored glass when he saw one. It looked somewhat like the head of the creature on the dragon pins the Asha'man wore. The hilt, however, was entirely different than what he was used to. A piece of metal connected the guard and the pommel. Was it supposed to protect the fingers? The entire hilt shined as though it were made of gold, except of course for the leather wrapped around the handle. Gold, really? What a ridiculous metal to make anything out of.

“Do you seriously intend to go into battle with that thing?” Baran asked, incredulous. Jholan turned as he practiced, his face blank, the way most people looked when assuming the Void. Baran was pretty sure his own face looked similar when he was concentrating, just as he assumed his voice sounded as cold as Jholan's when he eventually answered.

“I do. And I intend to win with this thing.” It was always strange to hear Jholan talk with that humorless voice, despite the way he occasionally joked from within the depths of the void. Even as he spoke, Jholan continued to move from form to form in an attempt to mimic the flowing motions of the more skilled Asha'man.

Suddenly, Baran became aware that Jholan was holding onto Saidin. He opened his mouth to ask why the other man to doing so, but before he could make a noise, the weaves that formed a fireball swept out of Jholan and sent the ball of flame surging towards Baran. Baran rolled out of the fireball's way, drawing his blade in a clumsy version of Unfolding the Fan. He had sparred with Jholan enough to know that the other man would be charging in behind the weave, hoping to catch him unaware. Sure enough, Jholan had been rushing in behind it. He was forced to break off his attack and circle around, his strange blade pointed toward Baran's heart.

Baran stood, confused. What was going on? Usually they used practice swords they had carved from the wood of the surrounding trees. Why was Jholan attacking him? He studied the other man's face, hoping for some kind of emotion to tell him what was going on. To his disappointment, Jholan's face was still blank. However, there was a sort of deadness about his eyes, a slackness around the mouth, that made Baran's gut twist. He had seemed fine just a few days ago, and now he was like this? Baran hoped he still had years before he went mad, which was how Jholan seemed now.

Jholan charged, his blade raised to begin the Boar Rushes Down the Mountain. Instead of meeting the attack, Baran turned and ran, channeling threads of fire around him to knock trees down behind him as he ran. Hopefully Jholan could be pinned beneath one. Baran couldn't bear the thought of killing one of his few friends in the Black Tower. Instead of a startled yell he was hoping for, Baran heard a series of explosions behind him. He could feel Jholan fairly blazing with the power behind him. He must have woven Fire and Earth to cause the falling trees to explode. Light, when had he gotten so good with the Power? He had to get back to the Tower. They would know what to do.

A few Soldiers were working on the wall now, watched over by a Dedicated. Baran shouted at them to run, even as he vaulted the waist-high wall of stone and ducked down, narrowly avoiding another ball of fire that melted a patch of snow a few feet from his hiding spot. Jholan jumped over the wall himself, his blade already raised for a vicious overhead strike. Baran raised his own weapon up, parrying the blow and retaliating with Parting the Silk even as Jholan moved into Tower of Morning.

Baran yelped and stumbled back as Jholan's attack caught him across the chest. His own slash, calculated to cause minimal damage, didn't seem to faze Jholan at all. He stalked towards Baran, his sword held up near his shoulder. Baran raised his own sword in a mirror image of his maddened friend, and stepped forward. He felt the other Dedicated Seize Saidin even as he ordered a Soldier to get help.

Jholan channeled again, this time in threads of air that snaked out towards both of the Dedicated. The other man had apparently expected Jholan to concentrate on Baran, and was thus caught across the face by the attack, which drove him to the ground, unmoving. Baran, for his part, Seized Saidin almost instantly and wove a shield to fend of the attack, although the shock of being forced to do so shattered the Void almost immediately. He moved forward as he defended himself, his sword thrusting forwards in Lightning of Three Prongs and slashing down to the side before reversing direction and rising up in Low Wind Rising.

Jholan fended off the attacks and then countered with Heron Wading in Rushes. Baran couldn't help but cry out as the thrusting blade pierced his calf. He dropped to one knee at the unexpected pain as Jholan raised his blade, obviously intending to behead his friend, a low, strange chuckle starting to rasp from deep in his throat. Time almost seemed to slow as Baran looked up at the madman that had been his friend, into the unfamiliar eyes. It was as though someone else looked at him, someone who hadn't spent days practicing with him in the woods. Was this how he was going to die? Alone? Unremembered, save as just another life claimed by madness? Oddly, his last memory of his father came to mind. A middle aged man, hacking his life out on the floor of a dirty little cabin on the edge of a small town forgotten by the rest of the world.

Baran rose from his knees with a shout, his sword flashing up in River Undercuts the Bank. A stunned look crossed Jholan's face as the blade met his neck, even as his own descending blade caught Baran squarely on the shoulder.

Jholan's body fell to the ground, his head landing near his body as Baran sank to the ground, gasping. The blade had cut deep. He could feel the blood pouring out of the wound. Before he lost consciousness he had enough time to wonder if maybe his friend hadn't killed him after all.

Baran woke in the infirmary with bandages wrapped around his chest. His shoulder was bare, the skin unbroken save for a small scar where Jholan's sword had sunk into his flesh. He was hungry, but more than that, he was tired. Light, was he tired. He raised a trembling arm to reach for the glass of water on the ground next to his small cot. It was snatched up by a passing healer before he could do more than touch it though. From the Healer he learned that he had been found unconscious near the decapitated body of his friend. There were questions as to what had happened, of course. Now that he was awake, the proper authorities would be notified.

Baran nodded, sipping gratefully at the glass of water the Healer helped him hold to his lips. When he was done, he laid back in the cot and tried to put the days events into their proper order in his mind. He wondered who would be sent to interview him.

My first act as a new Dedicated will be classes! In order to leave more options for other Dedicated when they pop up, I will take one Soldier and run the Seizing Saidin class exclusively for them! One on one classes should allow people to get through their requirements faster.

As to the second class, the topic will be up to the Soldier. It just can't be weapons, sorry. I don't think I'll be able to train anyone in weapons until well after I hit Asha'man. Level 10 Weapons Skill, I think.

Now, I don't want to seem like I'm showing favoritism, so this'll be on the first come, first serve basis.