I'll link my bio, but it looks like the two might have some things in common.  How old is Ellisha at the main timeline?

Her research into weather is so she can weaponize it.  That's why she maintains a secluded cabin; it's hard to practice deadly weaves when there's even the remotest chance of breaking the Third Oath.  Hobbies like gardening and research into the various militias, armies, and mercenary groups give me plenty of opportunity to go to the Tower and, thus, RP.  I didn't want a Green who was so focused on the Last Battle that she became one-dimensional.

Does she have any interests that might overlap with a Green?  Janine's kind of a different one; she's academically interested in weather and botany outside her duties and interests as a Green.  She does a lot of research in the library, so she can be found there.  Otherwise, she stays at a secluded cabin, where she works to perfect weaves to support micro-climates for exotic plants and flowers.

Hey, folks.  Got a Green Cloud Dancer who needs something to do.  Hobbies include walking in the rain, tending the gardens, and keeping a weather eye on the various militias, armies, and mercenary groups in the world.

A wild The Don appears!

Quibby uses Nail Foot to the Floor!

Sorry, my brain wrote both posts at once, but didn't bother correlating the two.  We're in Whitebridge.  Needed an urban environment to make it easier for the Darkfriends to find us.

I've got an eternal corporal working research and development for the Band now.  I can always use somebody to bounce his social awkwardness off of.

"I know it's not common practice to stop for a couple of well-armed people, captain.  I really appreciate your help."

The captain of the ship Firefly nodded, then held out his rough hand.  "Gratitude is all well and good, but I do be needing payment.  You did say that you were able to pay."

Mehrin nodded back, then withdrew two gold crowns, Andoran weight, from a pocket.  Placing them in the captain's hand, Mehrin replied, "That should cover the ride."  Reaching into a different pocket, he then withdrew a further three crowns.  "And that should cover any added expenses we may have created."

The captain's face remained expressionless, despite the coins.  Mehrin knew that it was far more than the journey and food had been worth, but he could afford to be generous.  The ship needed several repairs, and what he had paid the man would go a long way towards making them.  I can afford to be kind.

Of course you can.  You have to assuage your conscious somehow, don't you?

Shut up.

Mehrin also knew that he was taking a large risk by paying so much.  Anybody who had seen him pay the man would consider the fact that there was probably more in his possession.  Mehrin was not worried about the crew of the ship; they had seen him and Eb exercising and sparring together on the deck.  He doubted that any of them had a desire to end up wishing that they were dead.

With practiced ease, Mehrin slung his travel sack over his shoulder and climbed the gangway up to the docks, Eb following behind.  Once again on land and amongst people, Mehrin could feel his perception shifting, his eyes slightly unfocusing in order to take in as much peripheral vision as he took in direct vision.  Immediately, two men in an alley drew his attention.  One was fingering a knife, and the other looked as if he had a small club.  Normally, he would have ignored a threat as miniscule as the two would offer, but Mehrin felt a need to vent some pent-up frustration.  Stopping in his tracks, Mehrin turned to fully face the two, causing them to start upright from the walls where they had been leaning.  With an exaggerated stretch he allowed his coat to open, revealing the bullwhip and knife at his belt.  When he was sure that they had seen the weapons, he smiled coldly and tipped his hat in their direction, then turned on his heel and walked up the street towards the inns.

"That was foolish, I know," he said to Eb, "but I feel better for it.  Nothing like a good threat to calm the nerves."  Stretching again, he fell into step next to her as they proceeded up the street.  "We should find an inn for the night.  I could use a bed that doesn't rock.  Besides, it-" 

A flicker of motion in the corner of his eye caused Mehrin's head to snap around.  Taking in the full detail of the alley and buildings next to it, Mehrin saw nothing of interest.  There was a clothesline hanging in the alley, and the clothes were moving in the breeze.  Nothing to worry about.

"Anyway," Mehrin continued, "we can ask around, find out why the Whitecloaks are interested in me.  I should probably not be the one asking the questions, though.  Might lead to certain awkward conclusions."  Something started gnawing at the back of Mehrin's mind, something that worried him.  In a low voice he added, "Take care.  There's something wrong."

Glancing into the next alley, Mehrin saw another clothesline, and the worry suddenly dawned on him.  The clothes hung still; there was no breeze.  Eying the clothesline carefully, Mehrin muttered, "We're being watched."

OOC: Go ahead and bring us to the inn.  Noting weirdness is a good thing.

Mehrin did not bother trying to overhear Eb's mutterings as she stormed back to where she had left her pack.  Knowing her, it consisted of several well-chosen words describing Mehrin's character, his intelligence, and the current anatomical location of his head.  Subtlety regarding her feelings towards anything she considered to be idiocy was practially non-existant.

Thinking in long words, are we?  You only do that when you want to distract yourself.

Mehrin shook his head, a futile attempt to silence his own subconscious.  She does have a point.  You're hanging on so tightly to the past that you're not thinking of the future.

A linen package flew into Mehrin's vision, and he barely managed to shift himself to avoid catching the package with his groin.  The smell coming from the package caused his mouth to water; it had been quite some time since he had eaten anything, and if his nose was to be believed, there were good things awaiting him in-

"Here," Eb's voice cut into his thoughts, and a bottle was shoved into his hands.  "Proof of our escape, and the fact you chose to live.  Enjoy."

Without thinking, Mehrin opened the bottle and lifted it towards his lips.  When the new smell hit his nose, though, he stopped himself.  It was brandy.  It was his brandy, distilled in the Two Rivers.  It must have come from the Whitecloak camp, it and the package that had first tempted his nose.  Mehrin forced the bottle away from his lips, cursing himself silently as he did so.  You stopped this for a reason.  You nearly ruined the Band with your drinking, and you almost lost Drea with your drinking.  Don't start that again.

Yes, said the dark voice in the back of Mehrin's mind, you did stop drinking for the sake of the Band and the sake of Drea.  Where has that gotten you, then?  You've been banished from the Band under threat of death, and Drea has abandoned you.  Why not-

"One day I'll beat you, you know," Eb said from next to him.

It was suddenly easier for Mehrin to recap the bottle and hand it back to her.  With a small grin, Mehrin replied, "Sure you will: when I can't lift my arms above my shoulders."  Digging into the package- definitely from the Whitecloak's commanding officer's tent- Mehrin ate sparingly, enjoying the flavors that would all-too-soon be gone.  "We should head towards Whitebridge," he said between bites.  "We can catch a boat heading there and increase our lead against the Whitecloaks.  From there, we can work out where we're going.  I don't know what set the Whitecloaks against me, but I'd rather avoid finding out from them."

As he thought, the food in the package, shared between the two, was gone all too soon, leaving the two sitting quiet on the side of the river.  Someday, I'm going to have a house in a place like this.  Nice and still, and no need for that damn sword.  Mehrin sighed.  Time to get going.  Patting Eb on the knee, Mehrin said, "Whatever happens now, it's nice to have somebody to talk to again.  Now, let's get out of here."

OOC: Mehrin's pretty much done for this particular thread.  I'll try to get the next one up and running either later this week or next week.

The Band is still at the Citadel; I have plans relating to that, but I don't have anything concrete to share yet.  Timeline is about even with the rest of the board, which is somewhere around Winter's Heart, I believe.  DM's version of Mat is now in charge of the Band for the sake of not having to replace the commander every time real life drags somebody away.

As for what's new, well...  I've been a bit behind on everything, so I'll leave that to the rest of the group.

Are you planning on staying of your own free will, or will I have to nail your foot to the floor?  I'd rather not do that; the Admins get upset when I get too much blood on the carpet.

Shepherd's another one of the Ancients.  We are few in number, but terrible in our... er... ancient-ness?

Hey, folks.  Sorry for the long absence.  My computer died last year, and I've been without access except through my phone for quite some time now.  Let it be known that I have been paying attention, so I never truly abandoned you.  (Shh.  Just let me keep my delusions.)

Anyway, I now have access to a library computer on a pretty regular basis, so I should become much more active in causing trouble and generally maintaining the typical Band atmosphere of superiority to those other, lesser RP Groups.

Anyway, here's hoping this works as well as I expect it.

So say we all.

Sorry for the radio silence, folks.  I've been without a computer for a while, but I'm back and ready to be a pain again.

Rank: Captain

WS: 17

Progress to Next Rank:

(To Be Added)

Dammit, I knew that I'd forgotten something...  Thanks, Tay.

Pahl grinned widely.  Finally, somebody showing some actual interest in the research he was-  Wait, no.  Pahl's mind made brief contact with the world in general.  The woman was caged.  That was why she was always hanging around his laboratory.  The realization shocked Pahl out of his concentrated mindset, and he found himself once again grounded in reality.

"Su-sorry about that," he stuttered.  "I wuh-was just trying t-t-to t-test some of the things I'm wuh-working on."  Kicking shyly at the long line of char on the ground, Pahl continued, "Thuh-that was something that the Illuminators yuh-use to start their fuh-fireflowers.  I'm testing it to see if-if it can be used fuh-for other things."

Standing to his full not-very-impressive height, he said, "I'm puh-Pahl.  Pahl Ebersol.  I'm a corporal!"  The rank still excited him, even if he knew that it was only a formality.  Any attempt to order anybody would probably be laughed away.  "Yuh-you seem to be im-im-imprisoned, Miss...  err...  Miss..."  Pahl covered his eyes and his one remaining eyebrow.  "I'm suh-sorry.  What is your name?"

Mehrin was only slightly surprised by Eb's sudden assault.  She had always been a bit short-tempered.  Just a bit?  You are truly a master of the understatement.

Shut up.

Even with the distraction of his mind's constant bickering, Mehrin had little trouble matching Eb stroke-for-stroke.  An onlooker would have been amazed at the speed of the two's attacks and parries.  Instead of focusing on defeating her, Mehrin settled into a more defensive stance, attacking whenever Eb started to flag, keeping up the fight.  There seemed to be... something off about the fight, something strange.  It was as if she was-

A gap opened in Eb's defense, and instinct honed by years of combat forced Mehrin's hand.  His flamberge held at an angle, Mehrin rested the blade against Eb's torso, the point tickling her chin.  At the same time, he became aware of a cold point against his own throat.  Mehrin's eyes met Eb's, an intimate moment only found between two combatants, a moment where each could truly see the other.  In Eb's eyes, Mehrin found exhilaration, rage, and confusion.  He could only guess what she saw, though he felt cold anger conflicting with amusement.  He had missed training against Eb.

Before he could say anything, Eb spoke.  "Did you ever stop to consider all of the people you haven't yet killed?"  So that was what had triggered her assault.  Mehrin was slightly flustered.

"Like those you've protected, and, perhaps without even knowing it, those you taught how to live?  What about them, Mehrin?"  Eb's voice had dropped from a snarl to a quiet, almost hesitant timbre.

The question hung in the air between the two, each trying to decide what they were going to do.

Mehrin finally broke the tableau, slowly withdrawing his blade to avoid startling Eb, which would probably have led to something rather uncomfortable and, possibly, permanent.  He let the silence stand for a moment longer.  "I have thought about them, yes," he finally said, grounding the flamberge and leaning across the hilt.  "They're the only reason why I still live.  I hold no illusions about how many have survived due to my actions.  It's just that..."

Just that what?  Just that your life choices have led to nothing but pain?  That your choice to live by the sword has led to the deaths of those you cared about?  That you've lost lovers because of who you are?  That you lost your own daughter simply because she was yours?

"... It's just complicated.  I don't have a good answer for you."  With a heavy sigh, Mehrin hung his flamberge across the harness on his back.

OOC:  A couple more posts and we can move onto something that should be a bit more amusing.  (To be read: Oh, dose silly Darkfriends!)

Nope, I just forgot to do one.

Those of you still waiting for a usergroup add should be taken care of in the next couple days.

You may now continue with whatever it was that you were doing.

When he saw Eb making for the river, Mehrin turned away, though not until after a couple seconds had passed.  Admit it, a part of his mind whispered as it enjoyed the view, it's been a while, after all.  You're enjoying yourself.

Shut up.

You say that all the time.  Consider that I might be right every once in a while.  It won't kill you.

Shut up.

With a resolute nod of his head, Mehrin forced his attention away from the woman at the river and began the long process of rearming himself.  Two knives in the boots, one across the small of his back, and a small one down his back.  A few practiced moves proved that they were all sitting properly and would not hinder his motions.  Buckling his belt back around his waist, he checked the two knives sheathed there.  Again, a few movements showed no hindrance.

Mehrin was checking the knives in his greatcoat when Eb returned from the river, seeming to be nearly calm.

That lasted for a handful of seconds.

Eb's hands were shaking with rage as she pointed her mace at him and shouted, "Calder sent me, Mehrin, but blood and bloody flaming ashes, I'm here because of you!"

Mehrin opened his mouth to protest, but the woman's rage was beyond anything that mere words could soothe.  "And for luck of Light and Shadow, it's just as well I am - seeing as you never seem to stop trying to get yourself bloody killed!"  In a show of anger, Eb hurled her mace at Mehrin's feet, causing Mehrin's hand to twitch towards the handle of his whip, still on the ground.  No, dammit!  She's not a threat.

Yes, she is.  You taught her, remember?

Shut up.

In the intervening seconds, Eb had drawn her two short swords, their blades held rock-steady.  "What is it Mehrin?  Do you really want to die?" she growled at him.

Though he was far from angry at her, Mehrin felt the need to arm himself.  Reaching behind him, Mehrin lifted his flamberge free of his greatcoat and held the blade point-first towards Eb's throat, the blade never wavering.  "I imagine that Calder- the bastard- did not send you here to lecture me on how I conduct my life.  He lost all rights to that the moment he told me to never come back.  You have the same right that he does.  What I do now is my own."  Mehrin could feel himself becoming angry, now, a cold rage that was settling into his stomach.  His voice dropped to a growl.  "Do I want to die?  Possibly.  I've killed enough people that I probably deserve it.  Is it any of your damn business?"  Mehrin's anger finally reached his face, his eyes going cold and hard.  "No."

Rank: Private

WS: 3

Progress to Corporal

-Intro RP: (incomplete)

-Weapons Training RP: (incomplete)

-Weapons Training RP: (incomplete)

-Weapons Training RP: (incomplete)

-Choice of RP: (incomplete)

Rank: Private

WS: 2

Progress to Corporal

-Intro RP: (incomplete)

-Weapons Training RP: (incomplete)

-Weapons Training RP: (incomplete)

-Weapons Training RP: (incomplete)

-Weapons Training RP: (incomplete)

-Choice of RP: (incomplete)

That's my fault.  RL's been doing its damnedest to keep me busy.

Hello, Lavi.  Long time no harass.

DM Handle: Bela_theDO

Character’s Name: Silene Belain

Place of Birth/Origins: Tear

Age: 19

Height: 5’2

Weight: 125 lbs

Hair: Very long, dark brown

Eyes: Big and blue

Skin: Very fair

Build: Slim, yet very athletic

Distinguished Features: She has a big scar shaped as a slash, starting from the left corner of her left

eye, covering most of her left cheek.

Division of Choice: Scout

Primary Weapon: Knives

Secondary Weapon: Her legs, she is rather good at kicking and running.

Skills: Stealing, hiding, fast eyes, hands and legs. She uses her physical features to her advantage, she

usually passes by unnoticed.

Physical Weakness: She is really weak, even for a woman. She has little knowledge of using knives

properly, she just uses them to stab people and run.

Knowledge Weaknesses: She barely knows how to read, and only knows some math through using

money. She does not know anything else, and even lacks the basic skills that everyone should know,

such as cooking.

Description: She had always have such small features, her hands and feet, her whole body, so it is

hard to notice her in a crowd. Although she has beautiful eyes, hair and a little nose, she is never

found pretty, or even cute by others. She prefers to wear black, plain, Tairen-style cut dresses, a plain

flat topped hat, and wooden clogs. She always carries two knives, both of them are in her sleeves.

Character: She is very skilled in stealing and hiding, a result of having no parents and living in the

deadly streets of Maule. She is very courageous and very careless, often finding herself in troubles,

but she survived to the date thanks to her running and hiding skills. She is not really smart or

trustable, because she has a habit of lying often, even at times she does not have to. She is usually

happy and cheerful, a contrast to her tragic life. She has never noted angry or sad by others.

History: Silene never had any real family. She never knew anything different than filthy, muddy

Maule streets, horse poop smell, dead fish smell, beggars, some nobleman’s horse riders’ whips, pain

and hunger. She never remembered a father, or a mother, or any possible siblings. Streets were her

home, has always been. Her first memory was with Craine, her one and only friend. He was thirty

years old, an ugly thin brunette Taraboner, with the surname Belain. He was homeless, and poor, and

with no family or friends, a bankrupted merchant. He found Silene in a backstreet, in trash, crying. At

least that was what Craine told her, and she always believed him. Craine took her, fed her, looked

after her, and named her after his one and only love, Silene, who was his childhood friend, was about

to marry him, but left him when he lost all his money and belongings to gambling. He was half-
brother, half-friend for Silene, but never was like a father. He taught her reading, gambling and

stealing when Silene turned five, though she had never grown an interest in first two. They lived in

the streets together, made a little home for themselves in a narrow backstreet with used cartoon

boxes and some bad quality wool that they found in a trash bag for nine years together. They were

partners-in crime soon enough, with Silene’s extreme stealing skills, and Craine’s mind. Craine knew

Silene was not as quick-witted as him, and never become a con-artist like him, and that she had zero

chance to marry with a guy who has a decent income because of her looks, but he never cared, and

loved her unconditionally. Sometimes, when Silene became too careless and too courageous about

her stealing, he scolded her, yelled at her, but never raised a hand, which was something Silene

would always be grateful. Once, she tried to steal a noblewoman’s pearl necklace in daylight in front

of everyone’s eyes. She tore off the necklace from the noblewoman’s neck, and ran away as fast as

she could, but her tiny legs could not carry her as far as a grown-up, big yet athletic guardsman, one

of noblewoman’s. He caught her, accidentally cut her left cheek with some keys that was attached to

his belt, leaving a terrible scar, and beat her terribly. The crowd in the street were suddenly gone,

and no one ever dared to stop the guardsman. Craine was shoplifting at that moment, pretending to

buy some lettuce from a grocery merchant, and did not realize Silene was gone, until he heard a

terrible scream. He forgot everything and ran as fast as he could, never as fast in his life, tossed

Silene aside, and stood in front of the guardsman. He shouted “RUN SILENE! GO! NOW!” in a

trembling voice that Silene never heard from him before. Silene ran as fast as she could, never

turned her head back. Somehow she knew that was the last time that she saw Craine, and cried while

running back to her home. She was right.

And at nine years old, Silene was left all alone in this world.

That guardsman never had an inch of punishment for his murder, Silene would find out soon

in an inn, eavesdropping to some fishermen. The noblewoman told the court that his guardsman was

only defending himself. Later on, Silene would think noblewoman might bribed the court anyway,

she looked rich. That was how the world. Poor died on the streets every day, anyway, did murder of

one of them make a difference? Despite these bitter thoughts, she never held a grudge against

anyone, never tried to get revenge. She would always blame herself for that incident.

For ten years, she continued to live in Maule streets, stealing as usual. She often got in

trouble with other thieves in the city at first, but never got a beating again, since she ran really fast.

Other thieves soon liked her and respected her because of her stealing and hiding skills at such a

young age, and let her join to their “crew”, but she never considered them as her friends, despite

living together with them in an old abandoned house. She was the only girl in that group of thieves,

though no one ever abused her, or attacked her. Instead, they protected her, as she occasionally got

too careless and needed to be saved. This went on like this, but as Silene got older, she started

thinking about her life, her future more. “I do not want to be a bloody thief for the rest of my life”

she once said, when she was playing a card game with one of her fellow thieves, Thien. “I want to be

something more than that.” “What?” Thien laughed. “Like a noble or something? Or a bloody Aes

Sedai in a shawl? I cannot even begin to imagine you like that.” He laugh harder, and Silene

immediately joined him. “No,” she said, after their laughter finished, “like a soldier, or a

guardswoman for a merchant. I would definitely live a bloody better life then living in a smelly fish

head of a house.” Thien got serious. After a long silent moment, looking at the cards rested in his

hands, did not make the next move. He suddenly looked up Silene’s face and said “We both know we

would not endure a bloody merchant more than a day or two. I have been thinking about this lately. I

want to save up some money and join the bloody Red Hand. What do you think? Don’t stare me with

that bloody gaze. I know you must have thought the same.” Thien was right. Silene was thinking of

joining to the Band lately, as she heard a lot of the Band from the streets and inns she usually went.

She thought Band was more of an adventurous army than any other, and she liked the Jak o’the

Shadows song, even though she didn’t know why. The conversation between them finished, Silene

did not say a word, and they continued on playing the game. But the seeds of thoughts of joining the

Band planted in her mind.

After a year, she saved enough money and food to travel to Andor. “Well, if you have to gut a

fish, no need to wait until it rots.” Silene thought. Thien had lost his right leg as he got unlucky while

tried to steal some meat from a butcher, the butcher caught him and cut his leg off, so he could not

accompany her, though he didn’t hold grudges against her. She said goodbye to her fellow thieves.

She never thought of them as her mates for these ten years, but it was still sad to leave, and a bit

scary since she never even had a trip out of Maule, but she hid these feelings behind her usual big

grin. She caught a ship in the docks, leaving the very city she was born, lived, and lost her only friend,

Craine, trying to stop the tears from her eyes.

And so, her journey began...