So I wanted to apologize to the black tower at large and specifically to folks who were in the threads I was participating in. Life took an unexpectedly busy turn for me, and though it was a good thing personally, it did take me away from the boards for a while.

I wanted to make sure that it was kosher for me to just jump back into the swing of things and start posting again.

Lir was of two minds about the second stage of the training that the Storm leader had set before them. On the one hand, Lir felt well suited to the task. It would give him a chance to make an impression on the other Dedicated. On the other hand, setting the three of them above the others could lead to feelings of resentment and worsen the feelings of distrust so rampant amongst the men of the Black Tower. Then there was the bit about applying their lesson to a direct spar with Arath himself. Lir sighed, well the best he could hope to do was leave a lasting impression with the Storm Leader.

Lir had regained his breath by the time the rest of the dedicated had finished their run. Many of them were casting dark glances at Lir and his two companions. It would not be a friendly or receptive crowd. Burn it, nothing to do but get on with it. He stepped into the clear space that the Storm Leader had occupied before. He maintained his stiff backed stance, and kept the void so that his nerves were pushed aside.

“Storm Leader Faringal has asked me to tell you why I won my bout.” He tried to look each man in the eye in turn. “Skill had something to do with my victory, though I am sure that many of you know Vincent Inago to be a very skilled swordsman. So if skill were not the main component of my victory, what was?” He saw Vincent nodding, and some of the others as well.

“Aegelmar Jagad once said ‘If you know the enemy and know yourself you need not fear the results of a hundred battles. “ he paused and waited for the men to have time to think over the words. “I knew about Vincent’s skill with the sword just like the rest of you. I knew that he thought he was better than me, and that gave me an edge in our battle. I was prepared in that I knew his assumption about how things would go.”

He began to walk around the raised space as he talked, becoming more comfortable as he went on. “What else helped me win a fight against a more skilled opponent? Subterfuge. Artur Hawkwing said that all war is based on deception. Because I knew Vincent’s assumption about the course of the battle, I could lull him into thinking that things were progressing exactly as he expected. I could feign weakness, and tiredness and he was not suspicious because he expected me to be weak and tired.” He thought that some of the men were getting him, others were still disgruntled that he had not had to run with them. Interestingly, Inago himself seemed to be listening intently. Lir thought that the Tairen would leave this practice field a better warrior, and found a lot more respect for the man. It was hard to maintain reason in the light of defeat.

“What was the last thing that aided me in the fight? ‘He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious. ‘ Adaptability is key in both personal combat as well as larger operations.” He held up his air shielded sword. “ The situation on the battlefield is always fluid, and often beyond our control. I found myself in a duel with swords that did not behave like swords at all.” He swung the sword in a powerful arc. “This weapon behaves like a club, moves like a club, injures like a club. The key victory was adapting to the conditions of the battlefield.” This time he saw more nods, and many of the men were waving their own weapons through the air. “Now I will attempt to demonstrate these principles against the Storm Leader himself.” He cracked a smile at the assembled dedicated. “At least this part of the lesson shan't take very long.” He was rewarded with a few chuckles.

He squared off against Arath, his sword held at the ready. Now, how would he try to use the principles outlined in his speach against a foe who was so much better than him as to be in a whole other realm. Know the expectations. He knows that I am going to try and use these three principles. He knows the start of my plan. Ok that was one principle down. How about deception? Lir wracked his brain as he circled warily around his superior. He had a feeling that Arath would lead him on a bit and let him try to demonstrate his points before launching any real assault. Lir licked his lips nervously.

He darted in towards the storm leader, swingning his sword in short powerful arcs designed to crush instead of slice. He made his attacks tentative, and darted away again to dodge the Asha’Man’s obviously held back attacks. In and out, quick and furritive, he was making himself seem more intimidated than he actually was. This was deception as well as adapting to the circumstances. Lir was perfectly aware that he was participating in a one sided un-winable fight. his only real hope to make any sort of impression was to use that knowledge to his advantage, and make Arath assume that he had won before he actually had.

And so Lir continued his tentative attacking, waiting for any hint that Arath was going to turn the fight in a more serious direction. It was his plan to wait for that moment, and be “beaten” quickly in order that he may catch the more skilled, more experienced man off guard for even just a moment, to launch even a single successful attack.

Early morning light played across the Tower grounds. The sky was clear, and the air was sharp and crisp. Though it was as bitterly cold as normal, the seemingly ceaseless wind had died down, and Lir was grateful for it. He stood at attention, floating in the void as he often did now. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he looked as if he were awaiting the inspection of a superior. He was not, he was alone this morning, or nearly so. He stood next to a small outbuilding at the perimeter of the grounds. There, fifty or sixty feet ahead was the object of his study. The Traveling grounds.

An Asha'man standing in the grounds seized Saidin and wove a complex pattern of spirit. Lir was almost certain that he could follow the weaves, and yet each time that he had tried it, the pattern simply dissolved into nothing. He thought that he simply lacked the strength in the Power to form the weave. It was frustrating, just before he had been raised to the dedicated, his strength in the Power had grown dramatically all at once. He had spoken with some of the other dedicated and Asha'man, and they all confirmed this to be a typical pattern of growth. It appeared that he was on a plateau, well he intended to push himself even harder.

A vertical line of light appeared in the Traveling ground, it rotated and became an image of the Tower's front in Tear. When the Asha'man walked through, the whole in reality closed behind him leaving behind only the trodden snow. Lir made his way towards the empty patch of ground. He moved with a grace that he had not possessed when he arrived here. He was only skilled enough with the sword to be called competent, but the weeks of training showed in his body. Along the way he emptied himself of emotion and pulled Saidin into him. It's filth rolled through his brain, he was beginning to fear that he could feel the taint even when the Power was gone. Such thoughts were far away when the dangerous beauty of life itself was searing his veins. He pulled in nearly as much as he could, the warning tingles of pain reminded him of his first brush with the power, an incident that left his arm blackened and burned. No matter.

He wove air first. He was not particularly strong with air, and yet it was not beyond him like some of the other men he knew. The weaving was about as complex as he could manage, and it had taken so many hours of practice to memorize the pattern. He worked a fine thread of earth into the weave, easy that. Earth and fire came more naturally to him. Last he added a thick cord of spirit. When the weave was complete, he used it to bore a whole into the pattern, and he was rewarded with a thin line of light that hung in the air for a brief moment before rotating. The Gateway opened into a pitch black space less maw. Before him, just inside the Gateway, there was a small paved patio with a stone bench. He stepped inside and took a seat. Excitement and fear rolled across the edge of the void, finally the weave had worked. He exhaled slowly and closed the Gateway. There was no sense of motion, and yet he knew that he was moving towards his destination. In mere moments the Gateway opened and he stepped out onto an outcrop of rock located on the far side of the Tower compound. He had come to study this spot on many occasions, and just as he'd been told, the skimming had brought him right to it.

His fascination with Traveling, and thus with skimming had begun shortly before he was raised to the dedicated. It had been sparked by an offhand comment from Gavin. 'Fight for the Dragon Reborn, and see the world.' The gleeman's words had spun about for days in Lir's head. Lying in bed one night, it had hit him. Artur Hawkwing had written about scouts and information gathering. Knowing more than the enemy was the key to nearly every battle. The ability to Travel cut the size of the battlefield down considerably. Lir had been thinking about it quite a bit lately. The obvious applications were in troop movements and securing supply lines. Both of those things would be invaluable contributions to battle brought by the Asha'Man in addition to the terrible destruction that they could unleash. But Lir felt that information gathering was an aspect of the Power that had been somewhat overlooked.

The problem was, as he saw it, one of numbers. A single Asha'Man could only cover so much ground, no matter how mobile he was, where as a group of male channelers was far to valuable a resource to commit simply to reconnaissance missions. So what was the work around? Lir had an idea, but how far he was able to pursue it would depend on several things. First he wanted to discuss the idea with some of the dedicated that he had closer relations with.

He completed the skimming weave again, and rode the stone bench back to the training grounds. He made his way briskly through the unpaved streets of the town proper until he arrived at the inn. It was somewhat less grand than he had been led to believe as a soldier, and the wine was rather less good than he was used to. Yet it was the economics of scarcity, it was the closest inn for miles and miles and he did not know of any dedicated who could really Travel yet. He made his way into the common room and ordered a glass of wine. He took his customary table near the center of the room. In the strange paranoid climate of the Tower, the table in the center of the room was nearly always free. He looked around to see if there were any familiar faces about.

Sorry it took a bit longer than usual for me to get that posted. I swear between the broke down car, fifty hour work week, toddler, and pregnant wife, I'm amazed that I have time to think, much lest try to post everyday.

Lir attempted to memorize the weave that cushioned their weapons with air. He was not sure that he got it. Air and water were both weaker for him than the others, but it was more his difficulty at reading weaves that prevented him from picking this one up on the first try. He resolved to make time to practice it, after the power wrought weapons though. When the Storm Leader called for them to pair off, Lir's eyes shot straight towards one man.

Vincent Inago.

Inago was one of the only other dedicateds to come from a noble family. Though he had renounced his blood claims just as Lir had, Vincent was much more proud of his past. He came from a larger household than Lir, and a richer one if not as old. He had been closer to the high seat for his house as well. And he still wore the ridiculous oiled and pointed beard so fashionable amongst the Tairen nobility. They were of an age, though Vincent was maybe five years his senior, and the man seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in being just slightly better than Lir in nearly every way. He had been raised to the dedicated faster, by all accounts he was stronger in the power and he certainly had an easier time learning weaves. He also counted himself a great swordsman, and made sure that everyone around him knew it as well. He had been trying to goad Lir into a duel ever since he'd gained the sword pin.

The other men in the class were pairing up quickly, and many of them were avoiding eye contact with Inago, doubtless because they had heard many of his self praising tales. Lir however saw this as a chance to improve his reputation as well as take the Tairen down a few notches.

"Vincent Inago." Lir made a bow every bit as graceful as he would have offered at court. "I do believe you've been waiting for this for some time." He kept his face calm and maintained the void. Saidin calling to him from beyond reach threatened to break his resolve, and he supposed that was the point of the exercise.

"With pleasure Gilbearn." The older man smiled and raised his own curved sword, the weapon of nobility in many nations. The glint in his eye did not bespeak of calm, but rather of malice and anticipation. He slowly approached in Cat Crosses the Courtyard.

Lir leaned forward with his knees bent, assuming Leopard in the Tree. He'd never liked the more defensive stances, and as Vincent approached, Unfolding the Fan met Parting the Silk. Lir grunted, Vincent was nearly as fast as he was, and stronger to boot. The meeting of the swords felt off to him, the padding of air threw off the feel of the blade, and his timing suffered. The Tairen brought his sword down quickly, but altered the blow in mid swing, and only a quick Parting the Silk kept the blade off Lir's ribs.

Just like that, Lir found himself in a defensive fight. He was forced backwards into Lion on the Hill, and the defensive stance allowed him to block many of the strikes that came over and over again. Light, I never would have thought his boasting was true. Lir furiously thrust at Inago's face. The blow was parried easily, but it bought him just enough time to feint a few more attacks and clear his head.

Ok then, Inago was clearly the better swordsman. Lir realized that he was not going to win this fight by thinking like a swordsman, he would have to think like a tactician. He poured all of his efforts into blocking his opponents attacks, making no effort at offense. What was his advantage? Inago knew that he was the better swordsman, and Lir could use that to his advantage. He let the speed of his counters diminish, as if he might be tiring out. Don't let him think you have a chance. What else did he have?

Lir's back foot slipped in the frozen mud, and Inago's sword slid against his shoulder in a drawing cut. The Tairen gave a snarl of pleasure and redoubled his attack, but sudden understanding came to Lir. This was not a sword fight at all. It was a duel with clubs, and the man in front of him was too locked into his own way of thought to realize it. Vincent thought of the draw cut to his shoulder as a point of victory, and in a real duel it would be sapping his blood and strength, but here and now it was simply wasted effort.

Lir began to present opportunities to the Tairen lord as he continued to feign a growing weariness. Over the course of several strokes, Vincents sword struck him in the thigh, and an exposed bicep. The look of hunger was growing on the man's face Lir knew that Vincent was feeling confident and ready to strike to end the bout.

Lir jumped back and with his best attempt at feigned desperation, he assumed Heron Wading the Rushes, his sword held high. He wobbled slightly as if off balance.

"Stupid," Vincent growled, "think you're faster than me eh?" He stayed on the balls of his feet, just out of Lir's striking range. "You'll never take my head before I gut you."

Lir said nothing, simply waited with his blade, no, his club held high. The Tairen charged, and plunged the tip of weapon straight into Lir's stomach. The force of the blow knocked the wind from him, but the point, blunted by air rolled off the curve of his body. Lir brought his club down onto Vincent's head with just a bit more force than was probably necessary. Inago's eyes crossed and the forward momentum of his thrust sent the man tumbling into the mud.

Lir nearly sheathed his sword before realizing that it would not fit in this state, and drove it blunt point first into the mud. He walked over to his fallen classmate and looked down at him.

"You mistook this for a duel Vincent, there are no duels in real war, just circumstances and the men who react to them." He held out his hand.

Inago stared at him for a long moment before taking his hand and rising to his feet. Lir saluted him, fist to chest. "That said, you're bloody good with the sword mate." Inago saluted back, and they both grinned.

"And those spindly arms are stronger than they look."

In this thread, there are a couple of Aes Sedai looking for someone to rp with out in the world. I had the idea to make an Aiel character who fell to the bleakness by putting on white, and seeking out an Aes Sedai to serve. I wanted to float the idea over here before officially sending in my bio, to see if it sounds like something that would work.

I have a preliminary bio worked out, and I want to float the idea over on the Aiel boards to see if they are cool with it.

The ever present wind howled through the grounds of the Black Tower. The black wool of his coat swirled around his legs. Lir stood straight backed and proud, his hands clasped at the small of his back. His shoulder length golden hair was held back by a steel circlet on his brow. His calf high boots were polished, and his black trousers pressed and sharp. The silver sword at his throat shown with high polish. In countenance and bearing he was every inch the proud, even arrogant Asha'man that the world was beginning to expect. That he held himself so even when alone, as now, was perhaps a mark that he took himself too seriously. He was honest enough with himself to recognize the flaw. He was adamant in the thought that the Asha'man would be leaders in the coming war, and he was determined to look the part. He stood outside of the dedicated dormitories. When he saw Baran go jogging by, he made his way out to the training grounds.

It was odd to be on the same level as Baran, the man who had introduced him to channeling in the first place. Lir had talked to many dedicated and Asha'man, and they all confirmed what he himself was experiencing. Growth in Power came in fits and starts, several weeks ago his ability had surged and he had been raised to the sword pin. Dolwhin was an ambitious man, and a dangerous one. Rumors said that he had murdered one of his close comrades just before his own raising, though Lir had discovered that the official verdict was self defense. Lir would never forget that the man had shown him compassion even through the rage he had felt at the time.

He strode across the grounds confidently, in Cat Crosses the Courtyard, balanced and with a hand on his sword's hilt. He was still only just proficient with the blade, but his weeks of harsh physical training here at the Tower were visible in his young and athletic body. He maintained the void, and let both anxiety and excitement wash over him. He arrived a few minutes after Baran, and was surprised to see a Storm Leader, and one so politically powerful leading the class. Asha'man Faringal was deeply involved in the Black Tower's maneuvering with the White Tower. It was a subject that Lir was intensely interested in. He was convinced that the conventional armies of the world were going to be insufficient to the needs of Tarmon Gaidon, and that both Saidin and Saidar would be needed in the coming years.

He felt Arath seize the source, and was not overly surprised. After all, the One Power was used for nearly every task here on the grounds. He recognized the net of spirit that the older man wove, and was simply shocked at the speed and complexity of it. Before he could even try for the Source, the shield was around him and tied off. Lir probed at the knot, he knew that it was possible to work through one, they had tried on simple knots in one of his classes. He did not think he could untie this one without many hours of uninterrupted work. Fear rolled along the edge of the void. How long had this man been collecting the taint? What could any group of dedicated do to stand in the path of such a man if he snapped.

"Today, you learn battle plan B. What to do when you can't channel. Go to the weapons shed at the north end of the training grounds and grab your weapon of choice. Move!"

Lir wore his sword now, as he did at nearly all times. He slept with it next to him in bed, and when he bathed, he hung on a peg of air within reach. Increasingly, he felt uncomfortable when the weapon was not within arms reach, and the last time that he had been away from it for only a moment, he had broken out into a cold sweat. It made him nervous to think about. It was not a rational behavior he knew. Holding firmly to the void, Lir pushed such thoughts aside. He stood at attention and saluted the Storm Leader, hoping he would not get a scolding for staying when the other men went running.

Asha'man Faringal began to channel, and Lir leaned in to pay attention. Threads of earth, fire, and air. Lir thought he saw how they went together, reading weaves was still tough for him, but he was persistent and getting better. He thought he saw how the weave could be toyed with to give different results. He was constantly amazed at the complexity of the Power. How much had been lost over the course of three thousand years with no culture of Saidin use. It pained him to think that they had to relearn it all from scratch. It also annoyed him that so much of the teaching here was based on oral tradition, and technique passed down from man to man.

Keeping his face calm and impassive, Lir stood at attention silently watching as each new man made his way to the training ground and was shielded. They would begin soon enough, and he would need every ounce of energy. Out of a hard lot, Storm Leader Arath was a hard man, and they would be pushed to breaking this morning. Lir was determined to impress the man. He wanted very badly to be involved in the communion with the White Tower, and this was the first chance that Lir had ever had to interact with him. He shivered as the wind flared up again, and could not wait until they showed him the weave to ignore the cold.

Dedicated:

Name: Lir Gilbearn

Learning RP: Saidin Related - 0/5, LINK

Other Learning - 2/5, Martial Weaponry 201

Using Saidin: Number 0/5, LINK

Inter-Divisional RP: 0/8, LINK

Asha'man Duel: 0/4, LINK

Lir is ready to improve upon his now mighty WS of what...4? That sounds like a great idea, and I love the interactions with this whole class, we've had some great rp moments already.

Woot, I appear to have met my reqs.

Having yet another man in the black coat call out almost casually that he could channel brought it all crashing home for Lir. It was real. He was here and could channel, and their was no way out now. The cold wind that howled through the muddy streets was cold and lonesome, and that suited him just fine. He was led through what really was small town on it's way to becoming a large town, and eventually came to a squat barracks. Soldier here, soldier there...some things never change.

There were a number of men packed into the building picked out for him. They were from seemingly ever corner of the land, here an Arafelan with his silver bells, there an Illianer with his squared beared. They were probably from all walks of life as well, but the ubiquitous coats made them all equals. There was a man here with a sword on his collar and he was obviously in charge.

"Fresh blood eh? Another bloody Andoran." His accent proclaimed him to be a Murndian, and Lir groaned. It had to be a Murundian. "All right Sally," He pointed at Lir, "there are coats in that back closet, find one that fits. Find a bunk that doesn't have a chest next to it and bed down, there is a curfew for soldiers. I'll try and make sure someone comes to make sure you don't get lost in the morning.

A wicked grin came over the Murundian's face as he looked over a schedule. "Looks like your first class is weapons with Storm Leader Skechid." He chuckled, "See if you can use that pretty sword eh?" Still shaking his head, the man walked out of the barracks.

Well, Lir thought, it could be worse. That trolloc could have just killed him and gotten it over with.

Something in Gavin's comments struck a chord somewhere deep in Lir's head. Join the Black Tower! Fight for the Light and the Lord Dragon! See the world! What was it about that statement that made him think of his book on Rodel Ituralde. He made a note to remind himself later. The gallows humor about madness did not bother him, it was something of a specialty here on the Tower grounds, and if a man could not make light of the taint what hope did he have.

Staring down at the stones, Lir contemplated making a suboptimal play to draw out the game, he was enjoying the conversation. In the end, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Perhaps he was as guilty of pride as any man here in his own way. Just like forswearing his titles could not strip away a lifetime of self image.

"To be fair, not many at court have probably heard of my house. Still, you have seen much of the world and had many different experiences. If we live long enough to be put on recruitment duty you will have a leg up on me then." He placed white stone in the optimal position to capture most of the remaining black ones."

Lir glanced up at the sun, it was a good idea to end the game soon anyway. Asha'man Tolliver would do unpleasant things to him if he showed up late for mid day patrols. "Let me know if you and Haver ever need another sparing partner. I've been thinking of ways to incorperate Saidin with swordplay. I've been watching some of the dedicated getting ready for their duels."

Yes I nearly apologized to Mr Martin in the sub heading, but thought that might be going a hair too far in the actual rp board.

Lir watched Gavin play from the confines of the void. The young man played reasonably well, he had good instincts and tried to keep the initiative, he simply kept getting distracted, or moved to early. His tale was not dissimilar to many of those in the tower. A quiet and peaceful existence did not lead many men to their certain death and madness. Lir channeled a small weave of air to move one of his white stones to capture a black one, it took a second try to get the piece onto the right cross.

"House Gilbearn. What part of Andor is that? I'm not familiar with your family." Lir rose an eyebrow at the inquiry. It had been his experience these past weeks that most folks in the Tower rather looked down on nobility. After all, with the Power, a farmer could be the equal of any lord. Then again, Gavin may have more interest due to his own nationality.

"Gilbearn, the Bronze Boar of the north. My grandmother Seargase owns several mines in the north, though my particular branch of the family was well removed from the house seat. Staunch Queens men the lot of us though." The pride in his voice did not match the dawning look of remorse on his face. "At least until I swore allegiance to the Lord of the Morning. Well it is said that the Dragon Reborn severs all ties is it not?"

The wind picked up, threatening to blow the little mat off the table, and Lir hastily wove a small shield of air to protect it. He smiled at the success, no matter how small. "Essentially my father could spare just enough coin on me to get me into the Queens Guards." He removed one of his own pieces when Gavin made another bold attack. The game was winding towards its conclusion. "I've always wanted to be soldier, long as I can remember. But Gavin I'll tell you this, when the shadowspawn come boiling out of the blight..." He shrugged, "Well both Towers, white and black will need to be ready. Steel counts for only so much."

Awesome. I'll go through and edit everything to show that he's at least set aside the gleeman's cloak until later. And I'll get couple more posts in the aforementioned threads.

 

It looks like once I get those done, all that's left is finishing the Game of Thrones (Stones) with Lir and I'll be about done.

 

Again, thanks for all the feedback.

Hmm maybe my madness will manifest in the form of literary puns.

By the way, if anyone wants to put a post on my intro thread Focus, I could finish it up. I've got three posts there now but Corlock has been mia for a few days.

Lir was not thrilled that Baran had sent him off to be healed. Sure his arm was pretty badly burned, but he had a feeling that healing was not all that he'd receive. He made his way across the grounds until he came to the place that functioned as an hospital. Along the way he was able to once more achieve the void, which was nice because it pushed away the pain from his arm, made it periphery. He breathed out a long sigh, he had not let himself contemplate the fear that he'd felt of losing his connection to Saidin. It was still there calling to him.

The Asha'man on duty was an older fellow named Hardin, and he was not impressed in the slightest to Lir come walking in with a half burned coat.

"Out with it boy, what mule brained accident caused this?" He gestured sharply at a table and began to strip off Lir's coat. "Try to put out a bonfire? Or start one?"

Hesitantly Lir recounted the tale, and Hardin's wizened face took on a grave cast. "Forget mule brained, your bloody lucky not to have taken that dedicated out with you. I want you back here before dawn every morning this week" He kicked the chamberpot under the table, "Every inch of this place will be clean before the sunrises do you understand soldier?"

"Yes Asha'man Hardin" Lir saluted and winced with pain.

Hardin grabbed him with both hands, one to either side of Lir's head, and Lir could almost swear that he sensed something change about the old grump. Then power surged through him, and his flesh began to knit together, Lir gasped and writhed beneath Hardin's touch, but the gnarled old hands were strong enough to keep him in place. When it was through Lir felt as if he had run thirty laps around the farm. He stretched his arm out, marveling at the lack of a wound, and when he stood he almost fell down again. There was no pain in his hip, the nagging not quite healed injury from the trolloc scythe was completely healed.

"Thank you Asha'man."

"More than you deserve you young idiot. Go finish your class and quit wasting the time of those more important than yourself."

Lir saluted and returned to the practice yard at a run, his torn and burned coat fluttering behind him. Light but it felt good to really run, run without pain. When he saw Baran waiting for him, and the state of the ground around the angry looking young man, the smile ran away from his face.

"I'm ready to finish the lesson dedicated."

Lir watched as the gleeman cum soldier approached his table. From what Lir had been able to find out,the fellow had only been at the Tower for a few days longer than himself. He was an Andorman, something particularly common considering their location, and was of an age with Lir himself. From what he could remember, the gleeman had not fared particularly well during weapons class, perhaps he should offer to help out with his and Haver's practice sessions.

"I haven't had a game in what seems like ages. My name is Gavin, by the way. Gavin Mortisane. Gleeman, ladies man, and Soldier, though not necessarily in that order."

Lir smiled, even within the coldness of the void, it was good to hear someone retain their sense of humor in this place. Gavin had a strong voice, and Lir thought that it would be pleasant in song. He shook the other young man's hand.

"Lir Gilbearn, formerly of the house Gilbearn, soldier by trade until I became a Soldier." He nodded to the stones table. "I had to trade three days of stall mucking to get those stones off a dedicated, so by all means I intend to see that they get used."

Lir rotated the board so that Gavin could use the black stones and thus go first, and advantage given as token of friendship. He watched to see how Gavin reacted, some men were very proud and would be offended at the offer. Others would be shrewd and try to guess at the reasoning. It was said that you could learn more about a man by playing stones with him than talking for hours. Of course you could do both at the same time.

"So tell me Soldier Gavin, what could bring a showman to this particular lot in life? It seems a rather complicated way to gain access to preform at yonder inn." He smiled and gestured towards the forbidden inn of soldier legend.

Lir was glad to see that his demeanor at least had pleased the dedicated. He had learned early on during his studies of military life that a man's countenance was just as important as his actions. Artur Hawking himself had said 'Defeat never comes to any man until he admits it.

His brief encounter with Saidin had been terrifying and exhilerating all at once. Just that one touch had erased the hours of frustration he had built up while trying to seize it. Though he was terrified still, he could not wait for the next opportunity. He did not really dwell on certainty of looming death and madness for in times such as these who could hope to avoid such. When the drums of war beat out the marches of the Last Battle no farmer, no goodwife would be safe in any corner of the land. And if the light were to fall to shadow, well madness would be a far better fate. Now that he knew he could do it, he felt such a relief, almost as if a weight were taken off of his shoulders.

Baran spoke to him in way that was almost comforting, and Lir wondered if there was something like a bond of brotherhood that could only be realized after proving that he could touch the source. Perhaps he was reading too much into things again, always a fault of his. The dedicated commanded him to hold onto the source for longer this time, and Lir was as determined as ever to really get it right this time.

“Until I lie dead, I will never cease trying, dedicated”

He had to work very hard to assume the void once more. His emotions were a tangled mess, and a wind had picked up cutting through the black wool of his coat and distracting him. Finaly he was able to form the flame and feed his feelings into it. The void curled around him protectively and Saidin sang to him. I'll get you this time, burn me if I wont. Confidently he reached out to seize Saidin, and it slipped away from him. He nearly growled, and tried again. And again. Light but it was just like the first time, he kept getting so agonizingly close only to fail. Maybe this was what put all the Asha'man in a bad mood. He had lost the void by this point and had to start over from the beginning.

Grim purpose showed on his face, concentration to complete a task that he knew he could do. He reached for it, and Saidin almost rushed to meet him. He was unprepared for sucsess, and the first avalanche of life bringing power nearly washed his soul away. He got a grip on himself and began to fight back against the scouring force. His mouth curled in distaste as he pushed all thoughts of the taint to the back of his mind. He opened his eyes and really took in the beauty of creation. He could feel the sharp wind moving across his body, and feel the individual pebbles beneath his boots. As usual, one hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and the suede leather there was a symphony of texture against his palm. It was more than worth the walk across a razor's edge that was holding the True Source.

It was so tempting to pull it into himself, and he found that he just could not resist that temptation. He drew more deeply of Saidin, and it came willingly. His senses were on fire, and his soul was alive with the pure potential of the power that he held, he drew more and began to feel pain. He was full to the bursting and yet he could not stop himself, he was caught up in the lust for it. He began to panic, he'd heard stories of men killing themselves with the Power, and he tried to let it go but found that he could not. Frantically he grasped for the power with his will and push it out and away from himself. The next thing he knew was that a terrible heat engulfed his body, and the void crashed around, and Saidin fled.

His world flared with pain when the void left, and he could smell burned flesh, his own burned flesh. There was a long burn down his right arm, as if he'd stuck it into a fire, the coat was still smoldering. Lir grit his teeth, he would not scream but could not completely hold back a moan as he pulled himself to his feet. Stars blocked much of his vision, and he was nearly as nauseus as the first time he touched the power.

“I apologize once again dedicated.” Lir hung his head, light but it had felt amazing until the end.

Life at the Black Tower was not altogether uncomfortable for Lir Gilbearn. The organization was essentially a freestanding military whose allegiance was to the Dragon Reborn, and Lir had spent his whole youth readying himself for a military career. The biggest difference between the Asha'man and the Queens Guards in Caemyln was one of discipline. The Tower was simultaneously more and less strict than the Guards had been. The soldiers for instance were kept on a strict leash, worked nearly to death and pushed even harder than that when it came to channeling Saidin, while those raised to full Asha'man were given a great deal of freedom to pursue their own interests. The punishments here were definitely different. Lir had seen a young man whipped to bleeding with flows of air for a prank that had gotten out of hand, and he shuddered to think of what the Black Tower did to those it deemed 'traitor'.

Channeling itself had gotten easier in the several weeks since he first touched the True Source. Sure he still had to eat the occasional charred sausage or bowl of cold porridge for breakfast, but he found Saidin most of the time that he attempted to seize it. One thing that frustrated Lir was just how much work he had to put into the process. He'd grown up feeling generally smarter than most of his playmates, and generally quicker if not necessarily more athletic. He'd taken well to his studies, and sword forms came easily to him. He had never before taken up a task and not excelled at it, but channeling took from him everything he had to give. Learning to see weaves and differentiate the five powers had been an extended exercise in aggravation. Handling multiple weaves was still beyond him, and he was only now getting the trick of tying off weaves. At least he was possessed of the dogged stubbornness endemic to the Andoran people, and spent nearly his every waking moment working to gain more skill with the Power.

This morning was as cold as most as Lir rolled out of his bunk. He stood shivering in his small clothes, waiting in line behind the other soldiers for the small basin that they shared. When it was his turn, he filled the basin with icy water and assumed the void. He seized Saidin and wrestled with the invigorating force of it. It was so very vast and wonderful to hold, and yet he felt as if every moment he were about to be consumed. He drew in nearly as much as he could for the sheer joy of it, but as always the taint nearly gagged him. He wove a thin line of fire around and through the water, counting three seconds before letting the weave disperse. He'd learned quickly that with five soldiers behind him there was no time to wait for water to cool down. He shaved quickly and returned to his bunk to don the uniform that was now the only way he really imagined himself dressing. He maintained the void, he did so as often as possible of late, even when not holding Saidin. He supposed that he'd probably picked up some of the stiff reserve that many of the men held themselves with here. He could live with that, there was a certain amount of detachment one had to have in this place. He'd seen several of his peers turned out after burning out, and at least one fellow killed by rock shrapnel. He particularly disliked that one, the light would need every willing soul come the Last Battle

Today was a good morning though, he had a bit of time to himself between early exercises and mid day patrol. He opened the small trunk at the foot of his bunk. It was here that he kept his prized possession, the second of two items from his previous life that he had been allowed to keep. The first hung at his side. In the trunk was a six volume study on the lives and battles of the Five Great Captains and the Hawking. Usually he spent his painfully small amount of free time studying those six books but today he was after a different goal. Rolled up on top of the books was a cloth stones mat and little baggy full of black and white stones.

He made his way down the main street towards the heralded inn, much talked about but rarely seen by the lowly soldiers. While they were not permitted inside, and light how he wished for a good bottle of wine, there were a few tables in the open space around the building. Lir nodded to the various folk that passed him by, and diligently saluted any man with silver on his throat. Many of the people were civilians who lived within the walls, sometimes family members and sometimes folks who had nowhere to go once they learned they could not channel. Lir chose one of the tables with just two seats and rolled out his mat. He emptied the stones onto the table and arranged them into their starting positions. He had tried to come out here at least once a week and get in a nice game or two of stones. He was determined to get to know the other men of the Tower, convinced that camaraderie was the one aspect of a truly effective military force that the Asha'man lacked. And so he waited with the game of stones ready before him.

Well if it doesn't work that is ok, I was just looking at the training reqs on the website and that was one of the examples on the free roleplay section. Though I have another idea that works within the farm itself.

Right then, I'll be ready for a fight. Lir grit his teeth with determination, and put both hands on the hilt of his sheathed sword. He assumed the stance Leopard in the Tree. It was one of the most basic sword form stances, often used before the sword was drawn, and being in it was a physical cue that helped Lir clear his mind. He formed the image of the flame in his head. The dancing flame that he pictured now resembled the ones most often created by soldiers and dedicated. He filled the flame with both his fear and excitement at finally getting things underway. He was left empty and at peace. Truth be known, he was beginning to enjoy the calm detachment of the void. When he floated in the void problems became puzzles to unlock. Only the presence of Saidin beckoning to him disturbed the calm.

Touch Saidin the dedicated had said. How exactly did one go about touching, yet alone seizing something so ephemeral. Lir spent several moments contemplating the issue, the void kept him from worrying about how much time it was taking. He felt as if he could extend his will, push it out just so. Saidin felt further away than ever. Not good enough Lir, try harder. With great effort, Lir stretched his will. It was like working a muscle that he had not even known existed. He felt the warm glow of Saidin just out of his reach. It was almost there, and then gone far away again. He kept at it, trying over and over again. Each time the tempting presence stayed just out of his reach. Time stretched and Lir glanced nervously at the dedicated, Baran was not known to be a patient man.

"I apologize for the delay Dedicated. As Pedron Niall once wrote: Victory belongs to the most persevering."

Frustration floated across the bubble of the void, but Lir was both determined and focused on his goal. He stretched out once more towards the True Source. This was the only way that the coming war would go to the side of the Light, he had no option save for victory. He pushed until he felt something straining within himself and then suddenly and without warning he reached it. Fire and ice and rage rolled over him in torrent, and the entire world seemed to jump out at him in an instant. He exhaled sharply and it seemed to him that each crystal of vapor in the air was a distinct and beautiful thing. Oh light, the foulness of it. The Taint was worse than he'd heard. It's black filth was nearly enough to distract him from the torrent trying to burn him to ashes. In just a fraction of a heartbeat, in just the time it took for that one breath to leave him, the void crumpled around him.

Pain blossomed in his head, and Lir fell to his knees doubled over with retching dry heaves. His face pressed into the cold mud and he continued to try and turn out his empty stomach.

Eventually his head cleared and he regained control of his stomach. Grimacing, Lir stood and resisted the urge to wipe the mud from his face onto his sleeve. No need to make himself any less presentable than he already was. Embarrassment fought with exultation on his face. He saluted Dholwin once more.

"I believe that I have touched Saidin, Dedicated."

I was wondering if any of the more literate folks around here would be willing to give Agardo a little bit of schooling. I was thinking maybe a thread that consisted of several snap shots of the poor Tairen working on what is probably his biggest weakness, ignorance.

Lir, being a well brought up young gentleman of noble lineage, was very fond of the sport of hunting. Now, presuming that soldiers do get at least some downtime, I wonder if he could organize a little hunting trip of soldiers maybe accompanied by a dedicated. Even an Asha'man if one were into the sport.

After all what harm could come of a group of men who have to channel to do anything get into on a little hunting trip.

Lir followed the younger man into the field, careful to keep his footing in slick half-frozen mud. He wondered who Baran had been in his previous life. Some folks at the farm were reluctant to talk about it, almost like a respect for the dead. Others found comfort in sharing memories, as if they were sharing a common humanity that many assumed lost. Lir reckoned he was somewhere in the middle. He was not a particularly secretive person, but then neither was he overly chatty. He judged that Baran was probably not in the mood for idle conversation however.

"What do I know of channeling?" Lir rubbed his chin with one black gloved hand. "Well the other soldiers spent much of last night telling me stories. I would have said they were just trying to scare me except well..they looked more than a little scared themselves. They told me about the flame and the void, a trick I already knew from my sword tutors. It seems that now when I assume the void I feel," He paused looking for the right words, "almost a light hovering behind me, but more intense and not visual."

Lir stopped and turned to the Dedicated, keeping his hands still at his sides to avoid looking as nervous as he flet. "It's so tempting to reach out and grab it. Is the taint really that bad? Can something that feels natural to want be so hiddeous?" It was chilling in a way to think of wanting to channel the cursed male half as natural.

(ooc: edited to bring up wordcount)