For me it makes sense to do one thread tied by the foul wind.

unless you feel like different locations would be too confusing :) we could put at the beginning where the character is 

A nice looking man with chestnut hair and a scar down one cheek looked out at her from beyond the gateway. His black uniform weeded around his tall, thin body as he stepped toward them. He seemed faintly amused, as if someone Tris couldn’t see had told him something funny just before he’d walked to this side.

She waited. She could hear the clatter of armor and voices in the distance. Near her, the man in black asked a beautiful woman, the person in charge for instructions.

Out of the blue, a thought struck as she watched the silver gateway wink out of existence. Surely this was what other, normal people were thinking too.

Tris fixed the man with her amused look this time. 

“Thanks for your hard work. Compared with you guys,” this she said while gesturing at the black tower crew, “aren’t we just window dressing?” 

Tris looked up at Nox and smiled her sweetest smile in expectation.

Tris Landorin

Troublemaker

Lillian shrugged a no-matter, and decided against asking, right this moment at least, why it was that the Andoran noble said neither towers had any interest in meddling. She didn’t want to offend a dedicated she’d lunched with just moments before. 

And the truth was, she hadn’t known the aes sedai advisor at court long, though she was a semi-regular face that frequented the tower now and then, and she didn’t know the queen of Andor well. Lillian had a feeling the fact that the queen tolerated the presence of the farm on her territories meant something.

Merdyn was affable, a good conversationalist, and expressed an attitude toward duty that Lillian found appealing. He’d openly shared his background and attachments, and considered seriously the conflicts of interests in his service to M’Hael, the queen, and the world at large. Over lunch in Merdyn’s company, she could see clearly the way he thought about these topics.

Over the same period of time, Lillian could see also that Nox had not volunteered anything of the sort, which meant that he was either a remarkably private person, or he was concealing something. No matter, she turned her mind to other things.

For one, the trollocs attack that injured Nox this far from the borders was disturbing. And, had Merdyn mention the two trollocs being separated from a horde? Impossible for a fist of trollocs to move this far without earlier detection, unless by way gates, which meant the forceful presence of a fade.

Lillian paused, then agreed. “True, the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. We but try to comprehend. These days, strange events crop up in the Pattern more and more.” 

She looked up from her cup and held the other man’s gaze. “How would you like to practice Linking, Merdyn?”

Perhaps, the experience would change Merdyn’s mind about linking and bonding. In any case, she was curious how saidin felt after being cleansed.

Lillian Tremina

Ful hesitated for a second before he allowed himself to be led away from their group. Merdyn had come into this with his attitude set to ‘confident’ and it was the first time Ful had seen him falter. 

When Ful stared at Merdyn — he was a handsome man who deserved to be looked at — he saw how off the other was behaving . . .

He decided to respond with an agreeable smile and curteous nod. The smile and nod combo was inspired by two things. For one, Merdyn helped him tremendously and Ful felt like giving back since the other confided in him.

For another, the man, this Andoran noble, had an air about him, something that said he was more than just dangerous. He was still and contained, and his gestures were small and restrained, but Ful felt that was because an effort of pure willpower was going on beneath the schooled facade. Merdyn's face, half-lit by the morning light, was calm, unreadable. As if the other man was used to keeping his feelings and flesh in check.

So Ful did his best smile and nod, and clapped a hand on the other man’s broader shoulders. He assessed the three others around them a little further. There was something off about them too. It made him pretty uneasy to watch, so he glanced back at Merdyn, wondering if perhaps the others in their party were nervous.

“Oh absolutely,” he said in a light, accented voice. “I’m looking forward to seeing their abilities as our work gets underway. Many hands make light work."

Ful Haert

Tristram Landorin, rebellious tomboy, had lied about being of age and attached herself like a barnacle to the Band during their rescue mission in Tarabon, and she had never let go. Nor had the Band of the red hand ever had the heart to scrape her off their hull. Owing to this persistence, habit, and foremost — convenience, she became a private at the Citadel. 

Tris was inconsistent, ill-tempered and unpredictable. Also, her youth, attitude and inexperience made the girl generally troublesome to deal with. On paper, in reports from her teachers, it was often hard to justify her continued association with the unit.

Tris rocked her head from side to side and waved her dust-smeared hands in some half-hearted business as she saluted her elders.

If nothing else, Tris had been with the Band, stubborn, all the way since Tarabon. She’d seen, if not jumped in,  many fights, brawl and games of chance; she’d survived the tour to Tarabon and back. Every step of the way, her lot had been tied to the Band in a way that was not easy to undo. 

And Tris went along whenever she got the chance to get out of the Citadel. That morning, the girl followed the senior officers - the scouts and the sergeants - wiped her grubby palm across her equally grubby cheek uncertainly, and found a position near the back, and listened. After the meeting broke up, their line advanced steadfastly through the asha’aman’s gateway. 

Tris paused. She furrowed her brow, breathing deeply to keep her hands from trembling. Oh, certainly. No problem. She hadn’t gone through a gateway before. But she didn’t have to show her fear. Bite me, Tris challenged the gateway in front of her as she anticipated her turn.

When the tall, thin private in front of her, halting and clumsy, had gone through the gateway, she frowned more deeply and tapped her grubby fingers against her chin.

. . .

Tris hurried and made an over-hasty run at the treeline on the opposite side, reckoning if she didn’t hurry that silver gateway would cut her in half.

Yes!

Having charged through alive, Tris turned around and stuck her tongue out at the gateway. She’d beaten it; she knew she would.

Tris Landorin

New or Returning: Returning

Name: Evelyn Shirale (NSW)

Freelander Guild: Inquisitor, CotL

*are there any active children of the light wanting to RP? Evelyn was mostly created for training purposes so little pt to bring her back if not.*

New or Returning: Returning

Name: Lijah Opeth

Freelander Guild: Voice to the blood, Seanchan

OOC: Heh, couldn't resist the Dark Tower reference in the title 'Childe Roland to the Dark Tower come'.

Open to any Band people, particularly if s/he wants to train Tris. 

The new girl smiled, checked her reflection in the looking glass, straightened her tunic, and headed for her lesson. Just remember Tristram, for the moment, you’re a boy, she reminded her flat-chested mirrored self as she stopped and looked back at the empty room. “Off I go then.”

The mirror Tris seemed a good looking boy, with the dark hair and pale skin of her parents. She’d only been with the Band for a few nights, was on probation still, and she hadn’t yet revealed her real self to anybody except the medic who brought her in, and ‘grandpa’ Burgandy, and that was by accident. 

Well, Tris mused, both of them obviously got bigger problems than Tris on their heavy shoulders. She felt sorry for the medic Jehryn — he seemed in a particularly foul mood and she took care to keep her distance from the bandaged-up man.

She left her room, and walked to the far end of the street past a sour looking officer, and then on a windy corner, checked the directions that’d been written on a scrap of paper. Right at this corner, past the rowdy tavern, and up the steps into the main area of the Citadel. She was amused to see training sessions were already in progress all around her, complete with attentive students of every age and description.

Training was all very new to her. She had to try her best not to screw it up. There were many nice-looking men and women who seemed honest and good hearted, but Tris couldn’t trust them right now. But she wouldn’t run away again, not until she found her mother.

At times, Tris despaired of ever finding the bloody woman outside of dreams . . . 

There was no point in thinking like that. She’d come too far to turn back. 

Tris Landorin

Thanks Cass and The Bard Babe! Perfect. Tris actually needs 2 more WS RP's to advance to corporal rank, so if Arkin wants to train her in weapons or scouting that'll be great. She's already learnt basic hand-to-hand combat and how to march LOL.

Rank: Private

Current WS: 4

Progress to Corporal

Reqs:

WS 6 + 2 RP's

-Intro RP: complete

(Jugglenauts in Baerlon) - In which Tristram meets Jehryn a medic who brings her to the Band 

-1st Weapons Training RP: complete

(WS training with fellow banders) - Face, fist. Fist, face. You'll be Friends, I'm sure (Hand to hand combat) 

-2nd Weapons Training RP: complete

(Snatch the pebble from my hand young un) - stamina training a.k.a. a lot of marching orders from Burgandy -

-3rd Weapons Training RP: (incomplete)

-4th Weapons Training RP: (incomplete)

-Choice of RP: complete

(A Night in the Tavern (Open)) - In which Tristram meets Burgandy an older man whom she dubs 'grandpa' oh and there's a brawl.

(Punishment Time for Burgandy) - follow up the next day, but incomplete

Tristram - Private . Undecided, probably scout.

Across the table, Lillian chuckled as she imagined Jagen together with Nox. There was a look on his face at mention of the red. 

"She’s got things to do; although I suppose paying your respects is a courtesy to do since you do know each other.” 

She said, putting down the sugar tongs. Lillian considered going for another helping of pie, but decided against it. Face facts, she was getting old, and she didn’t want to end up looking like a fruit pie.

“Wait, are trollocs this far south?” asked Lillian, with a touch of concern. Judging by the other men's widened eyes and the growing fervor of their whispers, the nature of Nox's injury was not common knowledge. “Are you ok, Nox?"

People hovered beside the table where the three of them sat. There was a chorus of general laughter at Nox’s quip. His self-deprecatory remark to his student had helped dispel some of the tension in the air. It had taken years for them to get this far with the male channelers. 

She paused, and changed the her line of questioning to be more palatable for their audience. “You’ve got many recruits to whip into shape, and I hear the asha’aman are very keen on mentoring roles. It must be strange for you to do your active duty by teaching. How do you get your students through training, particularly considering the unstable nature of saidin? How do you test in order to promote your students through the ranks?” 

Lillian had felt saidin through her link with asha’amen prior to the cleansing. The memory made her stomach turn. Even without the taint, instead of embracing or surrendering the flows into the one power, one always had to constantly seize control over saidin or lose oneself. She had to give these men some credit for that.

She was curious also if, similar to aes sedai of the white tower, the asha’amen now used objects of power to test the soldiers and dedicated.

Lillian Tremina

“Burn you, you’re clever!” Ful tossed back at the grinning soldier, speaking tooth-fully through his big bite of the 'stir-fry' Merdyn plated. “Light knows I can careful remember my name most days, let alone have time to think of inventive weaves.” 

But even as he spoke, he thought of the huge dedicated he trained with, particularly one who Ful had likened to a snake in character, though he was bigger than two Ful’s put together. Perhaps guile and creativity with saidin would help with Ful’s sparring against the wily dedicated, to make up for his lack of strength: in the one power, lack of bulk, and reach physically.

“I never heard of such a society, but if you start one, I’ll join you.” He raised his hands as if in surrender, "It’ll help us become better weapons.”

Ful shrugged as he finished the meal. He pulled out a flask. “There’s apple brandy in this,” he announced as he took a long swig, then passed his flask to Merdyn.

Lillian poured herself more tea from the new pot. She sat back on the bench and sipped her drink, smiling. Outside the ornamental window, the sprawl of the buildings spread out, many parts of it busy with people comings and goings. Settled in her seat, she looked around the room, taking in the curious looks and general whispers around them.

“Thank you,” she told the white haired, copper skinned volunteer who served them the fantastic apple pie as the same man came around to pick up the empty dishes. The man paused, uncertain; after a moment he smiled back. He was missing a few teeth, probably due to poor diet or past fights. The man had shrouded the weapon at his hip, as was the custom inside households.

Lillian turned her thoughts toward Merdyn’s earlier answer. She couldn’t help looking ahead at Merdyn with interest. He wouldn’t deny a direct order if the conditions were desperate enough? She cleared her throat as her green eyes fixed on the dedicated's across the table.

She spoke as the fire of the tea warmed her body. “A child born of aes sedai and asha’aman, potential heir to the lion throne if female, such a person might become a popular and decorated figure in gleeman chants and prophesies. But I am sure, all the glory achieved will become hollow for this child who needs to reflect the confidences of his or her heritage."

She knew leaders whose fierce eyes and hard gazes were the subject of barrack legends. Leaders who were personally calm, quiet and inspirational, wise in decisions and popular with those who follow. She also knew leaders who approached battles politically rather than tactically, appointed leader who appeased nobles rather than the lower classes. What kind of leader would such a person who’d been born to aes sedai, asha’aman, and the heavy crown of nobility become answerable to, in difficult circumstances?

But that was still some time until the final battle. They must be strong. Fast. Secured well with allies before then.

What did it mean to be strong?

She considered this as the room became deadly quiet. It seemed that their conversation was private no longer.

Lillian Tremina

Hello Arinth, when are you cool cats and Keyholder coming to our neck of the woods?  

“Whatever you can do is better than nothing. You’ve been educated by the best tutors in the city, so I feel certain you can teach me many things. And the cheating game sounds fun, if unorthodox. Please show me some day.” 

Ful relaxed a little, seeing Merdyn so relaxed. He sat in the softly lit, warm room of the tavern, and pushed aside his spoon with a content sigh. The ‘moose’ was the best thing he ever tasted. He wondered idly if ordinary retainers got to sample the meals their nobles couldn’t finish.

The food and wine made him feel hot. He took off his black, belted floor-length coat and brushed aside the strands of hair that itched his brow. He should cut it soon.

There was a commotion in the common area where the musicians set up. He was young, only fifteen, short but cleanly handsome, from a good merchant family, and the men here liked him. He ignored Merdyn, looking past the graceful Andoran to - as he called it - the haggard woman and her band in the far corner of the room. Just a few steps beyond the musicians was a space open on display, and observers all around the cleared area, most of them soldiers and dedicated from the farm. 

He looked around for a moment, his hand on his hips. The satisfaction he had gained from the evening’s extraordinary meal was ebbing. There was something akin to dread creeping into him as he turned back to confirm with his etiquette teacher. 

“I . . .” he began, then paused. 

Light, he needed time to think. 

Aiden had gotten everybody up. They stood up and looked around, groaning and stretching and bemused. The boy next to Ashley got up so suddenly, his big goblet fell on the ground with a clatter that echoed through the dripping glade.

Ashley smiled, spreading his hands in a shrug at the boy. He knew about the weight of the goblet, as he was the one to fill it earlier, nearly dropping it into the stream himself. He nodded in the direction of the trees on the far bank of the swirling, clear stream. The water tasted fine, and after the pair filled up everybody’s canteens, Aiden had praised him for volunteering. This made him want to try taking more initiative. Aiden’s praised fired him up. And it was Loraen who inspired him to help—what she’d done for him. He glanced over and thought, she was always tough and looked more like a guard now than ever.

He walked in simple gratitude as their group crossed the clearing and walked lightly into the trees, taking care to listen as Aiden gave commentary on local flora and fauna. There were signs of life, insects, small animals, some rabbits and lizards. The trees, the matted frond plants and vines, were alive. They trudged on, as birds called to them from above, and frogs croaked and splashed nearby. 

He paused at one spot, listening. He stared into the distance of the treeline behind them. Ashley shook his head. He could have sworn he heard something familiar. But there was nothing there.

Some time later, they arrived at their next resting place that Aiden had chosen. Ashley hastened over to the boy who didn’t bring much - he hadn't eaten anything so far - and asked cheerfully while joining him. “I packed too many rations. Can I give you some?"

Hmmm. Ful sniffed and thought about this. He turned around, hesitated, then turned back again. He put a slender finger to his lips pensively. The dedicated had, had it all and it was taken from him, and now he wanted it back? 

Why’d Merdyn tell him that? He knew Merdyn was rich, but wasn’t aware until now how insanely rich the noble really was. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“Honestly I can’t think of any sane reason why not,” Ful agreed, and turned to look out at the busy street, “Probably the only real objection is regarding your duties to her majesty? Will all the loyalties you swear to her represent the interests of the black towers? It makes it easier to cut ties.”

He ducked back from the middle of the street as someone, just a tanned ragged child, ran up the street and vanished into the nearby street. There was a smell in the air of spun sugar. 

Ful turned to face Merdyn, smiling. “Sometimes I can’t believe I’ve spent my entire life wishing to be here, serving the dragon. I’m young, stupid, and desperate, but I’ll serve how I can.” He raised an arm and pointed. “Let’s buy the cart from there."

Ful was content to fall into step as they began walking again. He was glad that the other man had been able to guide them, as all the streets looked the same to him. Their boots sifted quietly next to the small, rolling cart. He had bargained down the price of the cart to a fair price paid with Merdyn’s coin; they were ready to make the supplies purchases.

They came along a particular shop flanked on either side by tea houses. Half a dozen men appeared in front of the shop door and turned their way. Suddenly the shopping streets seemed emptier.

The men were big fellows, swathed in scarlet clothing and black iron armor. They saw the two uniformed dedicated walk toward them but paid them no mind. It was quite a spectacle, but during his brief yet intense career at the black tower, Ful Haert had witnessed plenty more intimidating sights.

It became clear that those men surrounded the same tanned child who ran past them before. Perhaps the child stole something? Either way, it wasn’t their business to interfere or draw attention to themselves.

Ful frowned as he put his arm in front of Merdyn’s chest. “Wait, maybe there’s another shop." 

Prompts from the book sound fun!

I like at night. I'd like to bring my bander Tris back to play this hehe.

Both of these work for me. Even if you jumped Emrin in the farm, I'd love to do a separate meeting either in town or with the band at this alliance healing internship thing  

Awesome. Lillian's going to be interested in how saidin is compared with before, thanks. :) 

How far [retro] back in the timeline is the cleanse of the taint on saidin? I'm curious bc to speak with an asha'aman who's experienced the taint and then after would be a dream for my white. She's linked with BT'ers before so kind of felt tainted saidin second hand.  

Ful nodded along during Adrim and Merdyn’s practical discussion about how they were to proceed. He gave himself up to somewhat uneasy thought over that remarkable weave, this work-in-progress by Merdyn. Of course, Merdyn seemed a confident and excessively talented student, and Ful noted this fact, despite an upbringing with servants, for the reliable manner in which Merdyn could be trusted to take initiative and do things for others. He would like to know just what it was happened to Merdyn to make him so dependable— and not a spoilt, pampered young man.

It was interesting how Nox chose not to heal, and perhaps Adrim was too exhausted - or perhaps he couldn’t - travel. Ful examined his uneasiness more closely. Presently, he considered the possibility of Merdyn’s skimming weave failing as the technicality of skill and strength seemed high. Then there was Ful’s worry about his immediate future: he did wonder if he’d be good at saidin and perhaps stumble on his specialty soon.  

He sighed, then brightened. If Merdyn succeeded, things would become easier now. These women, for instance . . .

Lillian passed tactfully from the subject of Nox’s preference for bed partners. Her mind raced back over the details of the aes sedai delegation here. She didn’t remember Nox.  Although many things happened in a short period of time that sometimes she wondered, had all that really happened? She was too interested in her work and could get carried away sometimes. 

She looked at Nox inquiringly, “I gather you’ve encountered several aes sedai before? What is your thought on asha’aman-aes sedai partnership, not physical but as two partners mentally linked to one another?”

She added with a grin “I’ll be coming back with a few red sisters as led by Jagen Sedai. Maybe we can have a meal together then.”

Something smelled good, and she hadn’t eaten yet today.

Ooc: Haha, sorry. I'll be clear 

The rising wind caught his hair. He screwed up his eyes while he brushed it aside and looked up at the dark clouds chasing across the sky. He stretched out his hand with the palm up, frowning. There was a storm in the air, thought Ful, let’s move before the rain comes.

At the gate marking the main merchants street, Ful stopped walking and turned to look at his friend, in wonder. The disguise was quite convincing, in particular the changes in his facial hair. “I don’t know if I can get used to your moustache, Tal’sin.” His voice trailed off as he allowed himself to be led to their destination. 

He glanced around at the colorful stalls-covered street, and after a moment, agreed “only if you'll let me make the bargains.” 

Ful really didn’t want Merdyn’s coins to feed them and clothe them and look out for them as long as his personal stash could. As dedicated, and some day asha’aman, they drew pensions from the black tower. That part wasn’t much, particularly in terms of charity, and they’d have to take care of their needs by making meager funds stretch.

Ful Haert

Ooc: thrifty son of merchants. Feel free to have him haggle like a Parisian fishwife at market :D

They toasted—as Ful pursed his lips as if stifling amusement. His battle skills, second to none? He laughed and shook his head, “Do you believe that about me? I’m average, definitely not as strong or creative with saidin as you. But I take a lot of risks. I don’t think sometimes. Just charge in and that’s my style. That’s why I got promoted. It’ll also get me killed one day.” 

He’d been made to think that way by this place. The things he learnt here could well make a difference in the end. And his was a style Ful learnt from Isha - the giant attack leader, brave and loyal, led from the front, which was a good way of getting himself and others killed. He’d always wondered, if Isha was still alive somewhere? Since Isha, Linten, and the two bonded aes sedai left home, all Ful had thought about was their situation, if they’re safe, how unfair it was that Isha wasn’t with him. He knew Isha was steeped in saidin’s taint for some time, before it was cleansed. Perhaps he had been led astray. Please let it be a moment of weakness, not the residue taint, prayed Ful. He wondered if the attack leader was scared, wherever he was. Perhaps it was a dumb way to think that way, a risky way to soldier, but it was the only way he had been taught; the only way he knew how. 

He sipped slowly at the wine as the other moved their conversation toward baking. It occurred to Ful, there was something else he should think about. When he was done with this place, that’ll be fine, and maybe he’d see Isha again. What if he did something dumb and died in the midst of it all? How would that be for Merdyn? For Nox and Adrim? His students? It hadn't occurred to him it might work the other way around where he’d be leaving friends and mentors behind . . . Perhaps the way he was acting was a warning of things to come. Would the day come, if they defeated the shadows, would they then have to turn and fight one another, destroying everything they’ve built?

Ful, who had been opening his mouth to speak, held his silence. He took another sip of tepid wine. He was annoyed to notice the petty human emotions in his own heart. He turned his attention to Merdyn again. 

Ful hadn’t known any nobles except Merdyn, so couldn’t tell if Merdyn was an odd sort of noble or not. For all he knew, all highborn males were like Merdyn, skilled at needlepoint and in the kitchen. But Merdyn was also bold enough to act instantly when the opportunity presented itself, and - perhaps without even realizing it himself, he believed in Nox and Ful completely. And by teaching Ful, Merdyn was helping him move that much closer to Ful's goals. Ful could see in Merdyn a true and faithful friend.

“Games? I can play chops (card game). And my brother and I always tested one another in stones." Ful answered as it dawned on him, stirred up by memories. The memories of people he loved.  How long had it been since he had last played Gavin? He loved his brother, but he couldn’t show much of himself to Gavin, not anymore. “Do nobles play these commoner games? If not,” Ful shrugged, “I can listen.”

And yet. 

He thought: And yet this was how children of the light felt about channelers. Gavin would have been indoctrinated in a similar fashion the black tower trained Ful. Did he really want his older brother Gavin to come home from the fortress of light in Amador, Amadicia? Would he have turned out like Ful, if he’d also had the ability to channel? Or would he be arrogant? Aloof? But Ful was assuming that Gavin cared whether the world was a better place. What if all he cared about was his own survival or advancement? The only question that would matter would be, could Gavin use Ful to advance his own plans? Gavin never told anybody anything they wanted to do, unless it would be useful to him for them to know it. But whether or not Ful trusted Gavin had more to do with the kind of person he was, rather than what Gavin have become . . . maybe living in the light far apart from one another wasn’t such a drawback.

For some reason Merdyn blushed. Even that looked pretty on the fair skinned dedicated. Ful looked down at his plate of roasted lamb, feeling the warmth of his own cheeks in response to the other’s giggling. He was thinking of the openness of Merdyn, the way Merdyn wanted to know more about him, and the way he knew the noble. It had left Ful almost gasping, the unguardedness of Merdyn’s conversations with him. 

Their conversations together. Comments at meals. He heard Merdyn’s ideas. Of what nobility was. Integrity and honor. He’d seen Merdyn do things that were very hard, not just for show or fun, because he believed in what he was doing. 

What made him tick? He advised, forcing his voice to be light despite the weight of his thoughts. “No hobbies or any interests so far. I just sleep when there's free time. I guess . . . I’d like to grow into a good person. A person my simple merchant family can be proud of. That’s why I always know the value of coins you squander.” Then he could find Isha; he could some day watch over his beloved brother, and find ways to help him find such things, like goodness and honesty, within himself. In life the only thing that brought happiness was binding yourself to other people you cared for, all other ambitions brought only momentary pleasure. That was what he wanted to get for himself.

For now he didn’t want to open himself to conversation; he couldn’t, not tonight. He directed attention to the second course smoothly.

“Yumm. This is indeed tender,” he said approvingly as he cut easily through the meat. Were it the normal fare from the canteens he’d be sawing at it for a half hour. And this, this just melted in the mouth! 

“I’m not sure if I can handle dessert. Depends on if it's your speciality pie?"