Lesson 3 - Water

He’d grown up and lived his life on an island in the center of a lake. In his city, it rained often. There were rivers that fed into the lake. He liked to swim in these things… why was weaving water so difficult?

He sat there staring at the bowl. It was a muggy day, and he was sweating… he wished they would let him keep a proper handkerchief, something with lace and made from silk of course… but no. Soldiers did not get lace. He wiped his brow with his sleeve, grimacing about the necessity.

His bowl was still empty. He was filled with the Power, and knew that if he wanted to, he could cause the bowl to explode in fire and shards. He could dissolve the clay of the bowl, turning it into sand and dust. He could create a tremor to knock it to the ground. He could do so many things… but not one of them would fill that bowl with water.

The weave was a simple one… but most men had some difficulty with water. He knew he wasn’t the only one struggling with this issue… but when the other Soldiers were a decade younger than he was, it felt like every failure was worse.

Humming a quiet tune, he completed the spherical weave and let it collapse into itself, hoping that this was the time it created the perfect knot and drew water from the air to fill his bowl… but it wasn’t. The weave fell apart, threads sliding like eels then dissipating into nothingness.

He tried for days. Weeks. At one point, he gave up for two weeks, and only began working at it again when Dedicated Tollian said the only water he could drink is water he collected from the Air himself. He was also forbidden wine or ale.

After two days of eating his meals dry, Rhys was angry. He grabbed the threads of water and forced them into place, not caring about the beauty or symmetry. This time, he didn’t allow the weave to collapse, he took hold the threads and pulled them taught into the knot he wanted… and it worked. The weave formed.

Rhys felt a tear trickle down his cheek as he watched his bowl slowly fill with water. When he picked it up to drink it, the water was cool and crisp.

He did it.

Lesson 2 - Spirit

After weeks of being in the Tower, the Dedicated had determined he had an affinity for weaves of Spirit, and so they were training him in the basics. Like most lessons in the Black Tower, this was a harsh one.

Rhys was normally able to seize the source half of the times he tried, but today’s lesson had begun with the Dedicated shielding him, cutting him off from that joy and power.

“A shield will cut a man off from the Power, holding him away from it, indefinitely… the person holding it can hold this weave as long as they are awake. If they need to leave, they can tie it off, knotting it, leaving you blocked until they remove it. Very skilled people can break through tied off shields, but that’s well beyond you or I.” This Dedicated was calm, dispassionate… almost like he didn’t care that he was there at all.

Rhys watched the weaves flow into a knot.

“Now, try to break through this knotted shield.” The Dedicated said as he sat in a chair and began to drink his tea.

“But you said this was beyond my skill?” Rhys asked in a confused tone. He gasped when a flow of Air struck him across the shoulders.

“Question a direct order again, and you will be given menial labor. Do as I said.”

Rhys closed his eyes, and began feeling the flows of the power that made up the weave that had been knotted between himself and the Power. He could feel them, like the tight fibers of a well used rope. Nothing he tried could make them budge. They simply were. He tried harder, working to force them to move. He scrabbled at them, like a rat trying to escape. He could feel tears leaking down his face and sweat down his back.

Eventually, he gave up.  He opened his eyes when he heard the Dedicated clapping.

“Good effort. You did nothing wrong, it’s just beyond you. In the future, we will try this again. And again. Until you are able to break a simple, tied off shield like that one. Then the weave will become more complex.”

OOC: Over the next few days, I'll be posting my asha'man's progression from newbie to full rank. This thread will be his lessons in saidin as a Soldier.

~~~~~~~~~

Lesson 1 - Embracing the source

“Try harder. You must reach out and seize saidin. It won’t come and climb into your lap like a coddled pet.” The Dedicated growled, his face inches from Rhys’ face. The new soldier breathed deeply and tried… as hard as he could.

He could feel saidin, just there… that glowing warmth, covered in a skim of nauseating taint, and yet he wanted it still… but every time he tried to touch it, he felt the fire and ice and avalanche of power moving and writhing… and he couldn’t grasp it. He’d never wrestled as a boy. Children in Far Madding were taught not to fight, unless they were to be guards, and then they learned to use proper tools to catch criminals and repel invaders… brawling simply wasn’t done.

“Keep trying, you mewling bag of suet.” Further growls. Yes, he was softer than most of the men here. Flabby even… but there was no need to insult him.

“I heard that you had to ask your wife for permission to come here… that she says you’re dead now… how does that feel, weakling?”

Rhys felt a seed of fiery anger in his heart, growing… the Dedicated was insulting him, his wife, and their entire society… he had no right. Just because people outside the city did things differently.

The Dedicated continued to barrage Rhys with insults about the women in his life, about where he came from, about his complete lack of skills in the things the Asha’man value… and that seed of fiery anger grew and grew, and then something snapped. The fire inside him matched the fire in saidin, and he was suddenly filled with the One Power… and he glared at the Dedicated, standing there looking smug.

A burst of fire flared up between them, singeing the Dedicated’s coat and hair. Rhys chuckled while the younger man danced around trying to put out the flames… he didn’t notice when he lost the Power, but now that he knew what it felt like, he would keep working until he could claim it at any time on his own.

Thanks folks!

I've replied to Cass' email with some updates, and I think the novella route will be the best option, then I can jump into the RPs.

I'll look for your reply to the bio email soonish. :)

Months had passed, and Elin had learned more discipline, learned more skills in this fantastic world. The little details about herself rarely changed now, unless she wanted them to change. She occasionally let her flights of fancy become literal... including letting herself fly through the skies of Tar Valon.

Tonight, she was investigating the deep libraries, looking at some of the oldest tomes and books in the Tower Libraries. These books rarely moved on their own, likely because they rarely moved in the real world. If she came here in the real world, she might run into the Browns that manage the Libraries, and then she might have to explain why she was reading papers on the theories of linking with Men. Tomes on the complicated intermingling of saidar and saidin when a balanced circle worked toward a unified task.

She turned the page and began to scan again, digging deeper into the writings of Nurzine of Essenia, and barely noticed the flicker of shadows. She looked up, looking to all sides for someone who shouldn't be here. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the flicker again. Then it was behind her. 

Suddenly, the quality of the light shifted, becoming darker. Elin reached for the source, wishing to weave a globe of light... but she found nothing. There wasn't a shield blocking her, the source simply wasnt there. 

Shocked, she let the book drop and it faded into thin air. To her left, she saw the shadows moving again, and this time she recognized the slug-like pale skin of an eyeless Lurk. Elin started running, if she could not channel, there was no way should would even give the fetch a fight. It followed behind her, leaping from shadow to shadow.

Running through the library, she tried to leap ahead of the fade, but couldn't. Nothing seemed to be working... what was this thing? How could a mydraal get into the Dream? 

There was a thunk noise as a pitch black blade sank into the wooden shelf just as she passed it. She could smell the wood begin to burn from the corruption of it. The fade was silent as it pursued her, and nothing she could do shook it from her trail.

After what seemed like hours of running, she was sweating and weak, and she turned to face the thing.

"Light, this can't be real... this can't be happening here... this isn't real." She murmured to herself, and as she did, the lurk began to slip... his form wasn't quite as solid anymore... he surged forward at one moment and back the next. If it works, keep doing it... so she took on a more commanding tone, turning her fervent prayer, denying the reality, into a solid command to the creature that is simply did not exist.

And there was a physical bursting sensation and the light returned to what passed for normal in this world, and the fade was gone.

Not wishing to wait for another, Elin stepped quickly back into her own body, where she woke up drenched in sweat and tangled in her sheets.

Later, she learned that one of the Browns that lived in apartments in that library had grown up in Shienar and had a deathly fear of fades.

Elin watched the Sitter leave, and as soon as she was truly alone, she pulled out her journal and frantically scribbled a few notes.

Chora Trees ~

- Require enhancements from Power?

- Require saidin and saidar?

- Perhaps combining simple healing with additional flows of water and air might strengthen a plant?

- Should a live plant be woven into a Chora?

- Should a seed be modified before it germinates? 

- Was a ter'angreal required?

Finishing her notes, Elin made plans to go to the Libraries. The Browns managed them, but she could still research to her heart's content.

The more potential ways men and women could work together, the more benefit would come of this project... and hopefully, they could guide the world to a place where men who channeled were not feared and loathed by all.

Thanks. :D

Hey there,

I was looking at building an Asha'man, and the progression through the ranks seems like it will be rather difficult with the current level of activity. Is it possible to start as a full Asha'man (with a fully vetted bio)? Or is it possible to write a novella about his time as a Soldier, then a second novella for his time as Dedicated?

Will do! I'll get myself settled with Elin before taking on a new PC. :)

Elin rose and gave the Sitter a curtsy. She waited for the Sitter to take her leave, but her mind was already racing up and down paths that she could research and develop. Things she could learn that no sister had learned for millennia. Perhaps since the Breaking itself.

Her fingers itched to write down her notes. She also made a small mental note to practice cutting weaves and shielding. If these men were really given their final ranks after one year... they might be more boys than men, and boys like to play tricks.

A blush rose to Elin's cheeks. "I apologize for misunderstanding your meaning."

Elin imagined the rose opening under the light, letting the serenity of the practice calm her embarrassment. 

"I will request that my rooms be packed and relocated so that I can be next door to whomever I bring back to the Tower as my warder." She paused. "If you think that wise?"

Tilting her head. "I will not confirm any rumors, Jagen Sedai. However, if we have the men here, that will be more than rumor."

Elin knew several of the Red sisters who could be very dogged while ferreting out secrets. She did not look forward to having to hide things from them.

Sorry, it's been a long time since I played here. I apologize for the confusion.

I dug through everything, and found documentation for raising and what not, Elin had been accepted into the Red. I really don't mind retiring Gera (the Blue I played before) and Themis was an NPC Sitter, but again, I haven't played her in more than seven years. Both can be retired and I'll focus on Elin.

Elin's face sags a little at the callous treatment given to life among the asha'man. Then she steels herself.

"I will be ready, Sitter, whenever you decide we should leave." She takes the final sip of tea and sets her empty cup down on the saucer.

"Once we have bonded them, will they be returning here with us, will we stay there, or will we take up a third location?"

"A single year?" Elin gasped. "How can they be prepared to handle so much power with just one year of training?"

Her mind flitted back to her first year as a novice, and then several that followed it, and then her years as an Accepted. If someone had tried to make her an Aes Sedai after only one year, she would have failed every test and expectation.

Elin centered herself, breathing calmly and thinking of herself as a rosebud in the sunlight.

"When do we go next?"

The spoon paused mid stir at the Sitter's question. "I am assuming you stand ready to link with them, and learn what we can?"

It felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice. Her only choice was to leap and trust in herself and the strength of the Tower to make sure that she landed correctly.

"I do stand ready." She finished stirring the honey into her hot tea, and took a sip. "Do they have men pre-selected who wish to bond, or are we to meet many of them and select from amongst all of them? How skilled at using the Power are they? Have they begin a training regimen? Is it standardized, or does each learn as he is able?"

She barely noticed that she had launched a volley of questions at the Sitter, the answers would begin to feed her plans on how to prepare for this task.

*Several nights later*

~tel'aran'rhiod~

Elin wandered the streets of Tar Valon, looking in on different shops and homes. A part of her felt guilt at invading the privacy of other peoples' homes and stores, but here in the World of Dreams, nothing was quite as it was in the waking world. As long as she did not dig through their belongings or use what she learned here for her benefit, then there was nothing wrong with what she did.

Out on a main avenue, she saw someone flicker into the dream up on the walls above the gates. For a moment, Elin thought it might be another Sister, and she wondered if she could get closer to find out who it was. Suddenly, she lurched forward, the world a blur around her, and she was on the wall with the other woman, shocking both of them. The other woman gathered her shawl and frowned at Elin, then popped out of existence. 

Just another dreaming woman skimming across this world.

But that motion... in a single moment, she crossed a hundred yards. Could she do it again? 

From her vantage on the wall, she looked down to the furthest north edge of the river town above the city. And she willed herself to be there.

And with a sickening blur, she was. Elin allowed a small smile to show on her face. She was learning the rules of this place. But how far could she go? Did the world always blur, or could she simply BE somewhere else?

Gathering her will together, Elin focused on being in her room in the Tower, and she instantly was. There was no blur this time, no sickness. She had traveled miles in a blink... could she go further?

She thought about her father's mill, and formed the image of the place in her mind, and willed herself to be there... it took more effort, and when she arrived, she realized why... the mill had changed. There were two stones now, and a second house had been build outside. Perhaps her younger brother had built a family here... or perhaps a new family had taken over the mill... one son killed by the village for being a man tainted by saidin, one daughter run off into the night, likely a witch herself. Elin had not ever written home, not wanting to shame her parents with a letter from Tar Valon. Perhaps she should arrange for someone to check in on her family, to make sure they prospered.

But that was work for the daylight, when she did not have this wondrous world to explore.

With an effort of will, she found herself back in Tar Valon. The only other city she had ever visited had been Caemlyn, but she knew that the libraries had maps of all the cities. With some work and focus, she should be able to travel to any of them... but it would only be their dream reflection. Still, this was an amazing tool.

After a quick jaunt to the Library, Elin focused her mind on a map of Tear, and she blinked, finding herself standing in the Stone of Tear.

She began to wander the fortress, intrigued by many things here.

The North Garden had always been a place of contemplation for Elin. From that garden, one could see until the horizon, which hid from view the Borderlands where men guarded the passes that kept the hordes of trollocs penned into the Blight. One day, the women of the Tower would march to the Last Battle, and they would fight those hordes... but while she would join that fight, she was no Green to spend her life preparing for it.

When the Sitter asked about forgotten feats, Elin nodded. "Yes, I've begun researching what I can, working through lists of hidden, lost and forgotten knowledges. There are many things that are written about where the authors speak as if the knowledge is commonplace or as if it is foundational to a complete education. I have created something of a list of foundational principles that must be researched before we can move on to more complex projects. Every writing agrees that a woman alone or a man alone simply cannot match the effects of a man and woman joined together."

She takes out her journal again, flipping to a page, pointing to notes from early in the book. "I found a partial record from a researcher during the Trolloc Wars. Tyrenia Sedai, of the Red, worked with men who had been Gentled, asking them to describe the process by which they embrace the Source and weave its flows. I was only able to find a few pages, but from the descriptions, it sounds as if saidin is entirely alien to saidar, but I think with an actual link between bonded partners, we should be able to teach each other how to weave the opposite half of the power... and from there, I think we can make leaps of discovery."

She looks to the Sitter to try to gauge her reaction.

Sitting on the edge of her bed in the White Tower, Elin slowly brushes her hair, taking long, smooth strokes. Her hair rarely tangles, but the calm, soothing ritual of nightly brush strokes helps calm her. When she is done, she ties her hair into a neat queue, then forms that into a bun, held together by ribbons and pins. Her nightgown is white wool, and it moves softly against her skin as she does her final tasks before bed. Once in her bed, under the duvet and feather comforter, she channels a bit of water to put out the lamps.

Her mind begins to relax, allowing her body's rhythms to slow, and she sank into sleep. 

~tel'aran'rhiod~

Her eyes open, and she is sitting in her favorite garden spot in the White Tower. Her dress is thin, good wool, dark in color, but with fine embroidery. As she considers the dress, the embroidery grows more intricate and more bold, moving from the hems of her dress up into the main panels. A part of her is thrilled at this, watching as her dress becomes a tapestry of vines and thorns. She laughed out loud watching the vines grow up her body.

After a moment, she takes control of herself, and the vines retreat to a more reasonable decoration.

She begins walking, watching, looking, seeing the Tower in a way she'd only ever seen it before here in the world of dreams: Empty. Every so often, she would catch a glimpse of another person, but they always flickered away, gone from her dreams. The old books she had found claimed that some people had just enough Talent to skim the surface of the Dream, and so like a flat rock thrown across a pond, they dip in and out of the world of dreams.

Climbing to the top of the Tower takes time, but she eventually finds herself on the roof of the Tower, looking out over the land, and she takes it all in with awe. A thought occurs to her, and she embraces the source... it's pale and weak here, but she is able to form the weaves. She makes a platform of Air and then a second platform ten feet below it.

Gathering her courage, she steps onto the upper platform, and then she breathes deeply, counting on her courage and weaving to hold... and she releases the weave holding the upper platform. I will not fall. She wills it hard in herself, believing deeply that she would float where she was. While focusing on not falling, she had screwed her eyes closed... when she didn't fall, she slowly opened them, and laughed again at seeing herself standing in the air, held by nothing... and that broke her focus on her will, and she fell the ten feet to her second platform.

Her fall wasn't graceful, but she managed to land without much injury... her ankle was beginning to swell. She lifted her platform back to the top of the Tower, and hobbled off of it. Walking around the Tower's top was beginning to hurt. With a sigh, she decided to stop walking the dream tonight, and returned to her sleeping body.

~The waking World~

In the morning, she tsk'd to herself when her ankle was swollen to the size of a small melon. With a frown, she limped to the door and summoned the next Novice she saw running by. "Child, please go get the Yellow sister assigned to Healing today. I appear to have twisted my ankle." 

The girl took off, and Elin began preparing how to explain injuring herself in her own room while still in her nightgown.

Restoring her composure, Elin rises and follows her Sitter. Enjoying the idea of tea and interesting conversation.

"Unfortunately, as you know, one's early years in the Ajah are quite busy. I was not able to maintain any friendships outside the Ajah." Elin says the words calmly, thinking about the friends she had had as a novice and later as an Accepted, and how they had been cut out of her life. They almost seemed to expect it when she returned from her test wearing a shawl with a red fringe. "Perhaps I will be able to restore them now that I have settled in. Or build new ones."

Elin's face shows some of her pleasure at the idea of being able to be more free with her opinions. "I think it might be best to give them, the bonded Asha'man, all the honors and privileges of our more traditional Warders, though. Else they might begin to resent being held apart. And a resentful man is difficult to work with."

She walks along with the Sitter, just a step behind as is proper, following to wherever the Sitter wishes to have tea.

Elin's eyes brighten, "Yes, if you'll take me, yes. I will bond an Asha'man. I think it best to only take one at a time, but if there is need, I could take two or three." She keeps her voice even and firm, confident, at the prospect of taking three warders. When she was a novice, women who suggested that a Red sister might have any warders had been sent to the Mistress of Novices for punishment. Now it was actually happening.

She begins to pack up her note taking tools, but does not rise, waiting to see if the Sitter has further discussion or instruction.

Elin waited for the Sitter to take a seat before reclaiming her own. The question did not catch her off guard, as it was something she had been thinking of for some time.

"No, I have not yet met any of the Asha'man, the Guardians." She let the title hang in the air for a moment while she thought on it. "I should like to, to better understand them and perhaps to bond one myself. I think the bonding of Aes Sedai and Asha'man is a necessary thing, something that will shape our world for the better."

She folds her hands together but meets the Sitter's gaze. "I think it is inappropriate for sisters who have not focused their lives on male channelers to take them as warders, or even allow themselves to be bound. Just like one who has not dedicated herself to the Yellow Ajah should not rush out to run a hospice in Caemlynn, a sister who has not learned all she can about saidin and those who wield it should not engage in these bonds."

She drops her eyes. "Forgive me if I have overstepped in giving such a strong opinion."

Hearing the footsteps on the gravel, Elin set her pen and journal down on the bench beside her and rose to her feet. She bent her neck to the proper angle and dropped into a curtsy for the Sitter of her ajah. She smiled slightly at the comment about the color of her dress.

"I was thinking on my roots, where I came from when I chose this dress, Sitter. In Amadicia, most of the common folk wear simple black and white." She let a small smile show at the memories of her homeland. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Background Summary: Elin is from a small village in Amadicia, her brother might have been able to channel, but when she developed the Spark, she believed he was still with her (despite having been executed for channeling). She came to the Tower and her Block was broken. She discovered she has the Dreamwalker Talent, but not the Dreamer, so she can enter tel'aran'rhiod, but doesn't get glimpses of the future.

She is still a young sister, only in her 30s, and is below average in Strength (24 strength, skill 33) and Potency (57 total), and she is well aware that many women stand far above her.

Her strengths lie in Spirit mostly, followed by Air and Water, and then Fire, with an abysmal strength in Earth.

- As an Aes Sedai - 

Elin would have spent her first five years after gaining the shawl learning the ins and outs of the Red Ajah, but when news about the Black Tower came and the idea of bonding men instead of gentling them, she would have begun digging into Tower records about how men and women might work together. She hopes to eventually find an Asha'man to bond herself so that they can travel the world, finding folk who need to be taken to either Tower.

Testing and raising write up from my records: https://drive.google.com/open?id=1k5DlTnfAQhEFoV8wO6iiRZ9U0_1J6gAhvz-ye7yP_5c

First RP since coming back: 

The crisp air of late winter made many of the passing novices and servants clutch at their cloaks, and Elin felt a small bit of sympathy for them. It would be years before the novices were taught the mental skill to ignore the petty details of heat or chill. Because she knew the skill, Elin was not wearing a cloak or gloves, or even her shawl with its Red fringe. She was simply walking the Tower Grounds wearing a dress made of fine black wool. There was embroidery in exquisite detail showing red birds on briers, all done in crimson thread. 

She kept her face smooth as she walked, observing everyone around her. Her senses stretched out, and she felt the potential strengths of the girls passing by, and she knew that many of them would surpass her one day. When she saw sisters, she knew that most were stronger than her too, and she politely nodded to them, bowing her head to the precise angle one gives to a sister of greater standing. Eventually, she found herself sitting on a bench under a tall cedar tree. The almost spicy scent of the wood filled her with calm, reminding her of the forests from her homeland.

From her purse, she takes out a journal, and a traveling pen and inkwell, and begins to write:

The river of one's life is much like the One Power. Struggling against it, trying to change what is into what one wishes for, only results in broken dreams and failure. My experiments within the dream have taught me some of this. In the other world, the world that touches all worlds, some things are easy to change. The color of a dress, the jewelry one wears, or creating a pot of hot mint tea with blackberry flower honey. All easy things that can be done with simple concentration and will. 

It is more difficult, however, to alter things that are fixed. A wall can become a door, but it requires much more focus and determination. A wild boar can become a docile lamb, but only if you truly believe it so. Then there are immutable things. The White Tower always stands above Tar Valon. A black stone is always black, even when I will it to have speckles.

So it is in this world. I can exercise my will to change my dress easily, without a thought. I can ignore the heat of summer's height or the heart of winter's chill by simply choosing to ignore them. But nothing I do will change how much saidar I can channel safely unaided. Learning to accept these immutable things is how one can grow.

As she writes, she listens for crunching steps on the gravel.