What’s this? Lillian asked herself, staring at Aiden in shock. There was a general murmur of interest all around. She glanced around, painfully aware of the crowd’s interest at the names bandied about, and the spectacle of Giles' body.

“That’s all; please leave.” Lillian said turning to the people gathered around them, eyes flicked back and forth as she drew herself up. Even the big, powerful young men wearing guard jackets and pale pants who met her gaze shuddered and looked away; the group broke up, muttering to one another.

She looked back at Aiden. Those were some storied names Aiden mentioned, and she didn’t want it getting out. Light, but he was Matalina’s boy?

Lillian pulled on Matalina's warder cloak, unbuckled the clasp, examining the intricate workmanship of the beautiful cloak. She had to yank it firmly from Giles’ body, then she cleansed the cloak quickly, skillfully with a wicking weave: checking that the clasp gleamed once more, as the threads of the cloak stitched themselves together deftly, as if a wide greatsword didn’t pierce through the fabric mere moments ago.

Lillian sighed, then passed the cleansed cloak to Aiden. She noticed the look in Aiden’s eyes when she picked up the cloak while fixing it. “Here. I’ve only got your word for now until we can confirm it with Raeyn and Mistress Loari.”

She gestured to Giles’ body, "As for this man's theft of your mother’s cloak, he can’t bloody well admit it now can he? You’ll want to keep silent, if you’re lying, before it gets out. Believe you me, they’ve got all the rope they need as it is. Don’t give them any more." 

What next?

“Yeah, we'll tell the Master at Arms,” Lillian answered aloud, simply. “If you’re uncomfortable about speaking now, to me, you can think about what you want to tell him, in confidence. I’m Lillian - now, Aiden, do you mind if I heal your injuries before we go?"

Not sure if we post activity in the pinned thread so started one for all white sisters :)

June 2018 RP's

Lillian witnesses a duel between Aiden [Matalina] and Giles, in which the latter dies

Ironic Accusations

Lillian has a conversation with Nox [Matalina] and Merdyn [Oddpositions]

Path of Thinking

“Right, thanks. We can go back then." Ful nodded, turning away embarrassed by compliments paid to him, the rain water dripping off his nose as he kicked up the wet gravel under the wet trees. The rain was trickling to a stop, but the air was still filmy and damp. Water gathered along the uneven grass and ruts of the lane. He could smell the stove fire and the faint aroma of meals cooking. Although he couldn’t see them yet, he could feel the eyes in all the windows of the back alley, watching them . . . there were black tower sentries everywhere.

Ful turned his gaze round and directed it at the taller soldier. He had always admired and liked Merdyn, even though he was the first noble Ful ever met, befriended. But for a moment, during their fight, he was terrified of the others’ ingenuity. Why hadn’t he thought to slam a shield on the other? He totally lucked out!

They walked into the light of the hall where their kitchen was. 

“A chance to eat your cooking? Do you even have to ask?” said Ful wiped his face with a dry towel, then pulled on a spare shirt and apron. The prospect of being fed a scrumptious meal made him smile. “I'll help you. Maybe tomorrow, if you’re not too tired, you could show me your weave of illusions again and I can try shielding to counter it.” 

It would be nice to hold regular spar practices, to test himself against Merdyn. Maybe the other would be able to evolve the weave further. 

Lillian sedai, with a little 's' because she was off duty, walked down the steep set of steps, away from the armorers with their steady sounds of forging . . . clank . . . clank . . . whirr . . . clank!

A reputable bladesmith was sharpening knives on a whetstone. Sparks flew up. The aes sedai saw the men and women in line waiting for their blades to be edged. She smiled. Lillian’s own blade had already been rubbed in oil, and was now set at the grinder, sparking. 

She moved on and, with a rising curiosity, made off down a wider street. Her dark-lashed eyes were bright and vivid as she looked around at the growing crowd, then followed the throng of people flowing into the public square. The place was busy. She edged her way in between guards and arguing trainees, paused briefly, then called out to a young man who looked stiff in his dress uniform.

“Master Giles is fighting Aiden!” The freckled young man replied, with obvious awkwardness. She didn’t know this Giles, but Aiden, Aiden - why was the name familiar?

“I hope they’re having a good time,” said Lillian with a reflective smile. 

“Aes sedai, I—” the other fumbled for words; his eyes wide.

“We don’t bite, despite what you may have heard.” Was she so intimidating, or aloof at the tower, her very presence brought fear to the eyes of young people? She’d like to think of the guards as allies. She'd look in the yards more often, get to know more people, she promised herself.

“Excuse me,” said Lillian, moving past him politely toward the edge of the crowd. She made her way slowly through the press on the square and, for the first time, caught sight of two men fighting. The young tower guard she recognized from the tavern some time ago. There had been a fight outside too, although he had not been a participant then. Aiden, ahh never mind, that was the face of a promising young man. Lillian stood looking at the two fight for some time, Aiden dueling the bigger, stronger man whom she knew not, and realized she couldn’t think of anything to say or do. Come to think of it, she wasn’t even sure why she’d come. Brawls never interested her, so how come she was pushing her way closer to the front?

She was halfway on her way there when Aiden slew his opponent, the other impaled on his own heron marked greatsword. Lillian had pushed people aside at the front of the crowd to get past them to the fallen man. The smell of pain was inescapable, and so was the low, background murmurs of groans and gasps. She hurried but it was too late.

“Dead?” she said softly, sadly confirming this as she crouched next to Giles. The big man laid lifeless, his limbs were sprawled around the great sword propped into the ground from his chest. She reached down quickly, closed Giles' eyes. His gaze had bothered her enormously, and there was a grim-set scowl on his reddened face like he wasn’t ready. Like it wasn’t his time. Like he was not going to let go. “Light."

Lillian breathed out deeply, and straightened her jacket. She shook her head and looked straight at Aiden, who was bleeding freely from his wound, yellowing bruises all over. She so seldom saw men dueling to the death in the yards, it was a shock. There were plenty of witnesses about. She knew from that evening of tavern celebrations Aiden was well-liked and that he was a good fighter. But this was open and shut, a closed case. The tower guards were a remarkably well-behaved and strict, disciplined group of people. Sure they dealt with brawls, a few feuds and thefts, but death in the yards was beyond rare. Of course, this incident was minor compared with the nature of the battle aes sedai were undertaking, and if the dead man couldn’t be healed then she shouldn’t be wasting her time on this. That was what the guards were here for, taking care of things while letting the sisters focus on the bigger picture. This was squarely a warder yard matter. A matter for guards . . .

The shocking sight of a blood soaked warder cloak around the corpse’s broad shoulders gave her pause.

“Is . . . was he a warder?” asked Lillian, warily. 

If the dead man with the fan cloak was positively identified with a bonded aes sedai, she would have a difficult conversation inbound . . . Yet this was not a time for rebukes. The boy would pay for his mistake here soon enough. Lillian could wash her hand of this incident, put some distance from this and move on. But she was wasting her free time here, precisely because this kind of thing was so uncommon here.

What in the blazes was a possible warder, a blademaster at that, doing fighting a tower guard? Light, what was going to happen to said tower guard who might have messed up winning a fight this way?

Lillian Tremina

Aes Sedai of the White Ajah

The combined squads - some cavalry, others infantry or scout he wasn’t sure of their insignias - of the band moved in through Nox's silver slashed gateway and joined up with the black tower units. It was all very calm, very matter of fact. There were a few handshakes and greetings. No whooping, no cheering, nothing to betray the pact, this tentative alliance they forged. Nothing to acknowledge the incredible fact that there was one of the kin, the farm, and the band embassy all gathered together under one goal. There was something infinitely strange but awe inspiring about watching the band approach. He heard the bells jingling from one of the men’s hair as he came through, gently joining the low wash of voices from all the different people gathered on this side of the platform.

“Quite a sight,” noted Ful. He couldn’t quite shake the notion of intrusion. Intrusion into their black tower regiment. First, there were women. That was rare for the black tower. Some of the men on the farm had wives or sweethearts, and camp followers to fulfill the men’s needs, but they mostly lived in town not at the black tower itself. Most of the black tower men had left their loves and lives behind. Ful was well aware his brothers-in-arm genuinely welcomed the citadel group, but there was indeed a strangeness to see friendly faces from the band particularly that of the distinctly looking females. The only females he encountered at the black tower had been two forcibly bonded aes sedai in attack leader Isha’s house before they too went away. He shifted uncomfortably at the remembrance. He resented them a lot, and he had been sure the feeling had been mutual. The fact that he would never, ever see either Faile or Eqwina Sedai didn’t seem to matter to Ful. Try as he might the last few months they wouldn’t leave his mind, and certainly wouldn’t leave his dreams.

He’d never spoken about them to anyone. He felt vulnerable. He felt open. He couldn’t for the life of him explain why the memory of them refused to fade, except for maybe it had to do with Isha’s memory . . . Ful hoped if he didn’t talk about them, some day they wouldn’t remain so bright in his mind. Maybe, somehow, this was the way. It made him feel better to think of it like that.

Ful was used to the presence of men and their activities, relaxing, cleaning kit, stripping weapons, smoking, arm-wrestling, talking, comparing stories, comparing wounds, drinking. The unexpected presence of this many women put him on edge. Of course there would be females in the regiment, and every last one of them was most likely the object of at least one bander’s affections by the way the men looked at the women . . .

He rejected the idea, flushing a little. He’d never courted, and it didn’t really appeal to him at this moment. Turning back to their mission, Ful was sure they’d be called soon to assist with whatever task at hand.

Ful Haert

Thank you so much @Matalina! Looking forward to this class so much 

The corridor wound away, passing mystifying turns, stairwells, and series of empty chambers. It was a maze. Ashley’d turned so many times, he wasn’t even sure of the basic compass orientation above ground anymore. But he was confident here. There wasn’t much to feel cheerful about in his grim-set trainee life in the yards, but now he was happy he didn’t even consult the map anymore. Occasionally he paused to check the stenciled wall signs, and once backed up and rerouted to an upper level via the stairwells. But his confidence never wavered.

He came at last to a small side hall that seemed particularly dingy and long out of use. He was, by his best estimation, in the very basement levels of the city, lower than even the cellar levels. Racks of old work uniforms and crates of surplus equipment had been stacked there out of the way. Ashley pushed open a metal door, painted blue. The tower guard, an older man with greying hair shaved in close to the sides of his head, looked him over then nodded. He looked dangerous even while sitting at a writing desk, and super alert considering how ungodly early the time was.

“What do you need?"

Ashley blinked away the dust that filled his eyes, then coughed to clear his throat. It was absurdly hot in there, but the tower guard on duty wasn’t even sweating. “Sir I need supplies for wilderness survival class this morning. Can you help me?"

The tower guard shook his head as he waved to the racks all around him. “Take whatever you like. But I can’t advise you as to what to bring. It’s part of an exercise to think for yourself.”

Ashley had worked that much out from Aiden’s instructions. He thought fast as he looked desperately around at what he had to work with, envisioning every possibility, all the tight situations they might be in. For a moment, he imagined himself and Loraen lost in a dark forest without Aiden to guide and protect them.

No. That was just fearful thinking. Ashley snapped around from his reverie and randomly grabbed some items he thought might be useful: tinder, rope, a container for boiling water, some netting for catching fish. He carried his axe, as always, and his steel dagger. He silently prayed his lucky star was with him, as there’d be no point regretting anything while in the wilderness.

“Anything else?” the man asked.

There was a long pause. Ashley felt his pulse racing. He felt a sudden gnawing in his gut and realized it was fear. Fear of the unknown and the unknowable. Fear of leaving the city he’d grown familiar with. He suddenly remembered the things that made him join up with the warders in the first place.

The tower guard laughed and patted him as he gave Ashley some food packs to put into his rucksack. “Ah, you'll be okay since you’re in a group. Just work with what you have. You don't want too heavy a pack. Weighs you down.”

Ashley thanked the man fervently and jogged his way outside the barracks to meet Aiden and his classmates. He wondered what Loraen and the others prepared . . .

Ashley Wilkes

Trainee

“Fortune prick me,” Ful hissed; he couldn’t hear anything but the shrill screams from within the fancy carriage, and his own frantic breathing. He was perspiring so hard now he felt like his whole skin might just slip off. He moved on, slightly more comfortable with the idea of Adrim and Merdyn flanking him. His sharp eyes suddenly caught something moving within.

As a rule, Ful didn’t do brave. He liked to lie back, positioned in good cover behind something, and leave the hero stuff to the likes of Nox and Merdyn. But he was getting edgy. He wanted something to do before he snapped, or before the tension dredged up one of his killer headaches.

He licked his lips, looked over at Merdyn then nodded. He sighed and moved past the downed horses which Adrim was mastering, swept his long flows of air from side to side moving the rubble, peering into the gloom. Dust swirled up in the sickly light that shafted in through the holes in the door. Ful looked into the carriage. He saw a gleam of feline eyes appear.

“You there. Let go and reach out. There’s room right beside you."

He remembered what Adrim advised earlier, and put on a big smile, trying to sound cheerful, even though this was a situation that made him feel anything but. He reached out, and his fingers found reassuringly solid metal. His invisible flows propped the broken roof structure up.

“That’s it, now slide around to me.”  

He reached into the carriage again, pulling out the woman, whose face was pink and sweaty with fear and exertion. Some cuts, scrapes - but thankfully not too much bleeding. “Here. How many are . . .?” Ful murmured to her, still smiling, crouching down to rest and wiping his brow, but not before handing over his water canteen and his handkerchief.

If any WT chars wants to play, I'm looking for a sister or an accepted to assign my warder yard trainee a chore :) Anything is fine and totally up to you. Thanks!

Chores

An Aes Sedai or an Accepted assigns you a chore. What chore is up to them, you need to complete this chore to their satisfaction.

Wow, it'd be great to play a part in the glorious Return! They were so cool with their high lady, sul'dam, seekers, listeners, da'covale and not to mention super long nails lol.

I played a SC character Lijah Opeth, as the high lady Ruan's Soe'feia who I remember played her voice. IIRC Ruan/daughter of nine moons was played by winter mist back then. Actually your sul'dam Cura Tenshi met Lijah briefly at a tarabon kaf house before lol. If you make Ruan an NSW, I'm happy to either revive Lijah to keep working for the high lady, or being stationed in Elmora. :)

Hm he's 15 years old according to his bio. I could age him up as he progresses through the ranks. 

Ok, sounds great! Will post soon.

Thanks @Matalina! Happy Friday and weekend :)

@Dar'Jen Ab Owain yes we're moving to Aiden new thread to learn survival if you're interested would love that!!

Haha ok. Please kindly let me know if you guys need anybody to write blue ajah class format. Thank you!

Awesome! Maybe my fellow trainees will join me? @Dar'Jen Ab Owain you up for wilderness survival?!

Hehe I can't wait to find out. 

Uh, what if ful and Merdyn become asha'aman haha. What's the code of Nox then  besides Adrim would be jelly??

Ok looking for help on WS 3 to WS 4 for my trainee Ashley

he's already chosen his weapons and learnt flame and void

is there anybody in WY who can show him spring philosophy? Or basic forms?

or wilderness survival training? Or we can just plot whatever 

thanks!!

Hm. What I'm wondering now - are there females in that 4 white horse drawn carriage lol  on the other hand it's pride month so gay BTers is the way to go!

Ful's too young to be flirting with anybody male or female haha

Got it, thanks!

if you need volunteers to write outlines might be fun to write the missing ajahs at some pt :)

Awesome post. So happy BT activity is back on! Also, why are common people so scared of us even when we help  

Also can we meet some towns ladies :P

“Who do you think you are? You’ll have to do a little better than that.” Giles snorted, pulling back a little. He clearly enjoyed this situation. Their audience had stepped back, standing down with lowered weapons in deference. “Aiden, you’re a guard. What did you expect, except that you were going to be beaten?” His laugh was light, mocking. “You’re such an idiot, Aiden. You’re far too ignorant and impertinent for the tower guard."

Giles smiled and leaned in close to Aiden’s face, “you’re just full of hot air aren’t you? What do you propose to do about this? Throw a tantrum?"

After running many punishment details, Giles had been trained to know when to goad a soldier and when to refrain. Aiden’s murderous body language seem to encourage Giles, as the blademaster resumed his all-out bladed attack.

Giles

Ooc: not knowing he’s seconds away from execution ? :D

For the second time, Ful Haert washed his hands under the faucet and then dusted them dry with lavender powder. He was fidgety, restless. His mind wound tight, and try as he might, he couldn’t relax.

The medics tent was a quiet vault, well-lit and arranged with rows of freshly laundered beds. Ful checked some more bottles on the shelf, then sighed and walked around. His boots rang out cold, empty beats as he paced the length of the tent. He paused - crunched down and looked around, chewing the inside of his cheek - at the end of the bed the wilder occupied, careful not to disturb the bedroll. His hands clenched and unclenched as he imagined the boy’s future. He wondered if the tension would ever ease. It didn’t feel like it would.

He wondered if the wilder knew what he was heading into as a new arrival, a recruit here. Other than the fever, the channeling sickness, he looked clean and healthy. Ful wondered, when the boy woke, if he ought to stop and share with him about the things he’d seen and things he knew . . . he decided against telling him anything. It wasn’t good for morale. Besides, nobody bothered to warn him. 

Heavy with a full canteen of water, Ful scooped up his kit bag - carrying several extracts marked clearly by their labels prepped with anticoagulant and anti-septic properties, a roll of gauze bandages. Ful thought for a moment longer, then tucked away several field ration packs inside his kit. Times like these, food was as welcome as their healing services.

He walked with careful steps to join his team up the path toward town. His senses were sharp. Sharper than before. Ful looked around; his sharp senses caught their scents, their sounds in the undergrowth, their black uniforms, and the silver, gleaming pins of the asha’aman. 

“Yes, how do you not scare people?” Ful asked Adrim, with a half smile. They were hardly a trio of medicine men.

We are ready for you @Matalina whenever you are free :) also @Cass if you want to jump in with your medic XD

Ful looked sharply at Adrim for a moment, then shook his head. It didn't matter, this closeness between Adrim and his student Nox. There was both a fierce look and kindness in the asha'aman's eyes last night.

He was beginning to know what having a mentor meant. He had been cut free of his roots, and had gone places further away than his family had gone. It left him stranded and adrift. The only place left for him was the place his mentor, and attack leader Isha had given him: standing here in this makeshift medics tent for the wounded. Standing here, under the lamp lit tent, he realized, for the first time in his life, how selfless his mentor Isha's decision had been. Isha hadn't hesitated to take Ful into his family at the farm. Fate had given Ful into Nox's care, and now Adrim's. Light, he saw that now. He wondered if Isha ever resented the responsibility he had been landed with. Certainly, Isha became a proxy parent out of necessity for him and Linten, because there was no other option. He decided that Adrim's relationship with Nox was a particular thing. Without Adrim, or someone like him, Nox would have died. 

This is why healing was important.

He exchanged a look with Merdyn - yesterday's experience hoisting Nox up and carrying him into his house had bonded them somewhat - as the other soldier examined the boy first. He felt the other seize saidin and listened patiently as Merdyn made his assessment. Ful peered closer at the wilder in the bed as Merdyn shuddered and released his weave. Curious, was something awry?

Ful frowned as he laid hands on the patient, bracing himself for saidin to fill him before he delved into the boy with the power.  He could smell the oils that the medics had anointed his body with. The boy's lips were dry and cracked. His throat felt dry and he must have had a headache from the broken fever. After a moment, he reached down and unhooked his half empty water bottle, placing it carefully on the boy's bed, near his rough sandpaper hand. "He's thirsty." Other than that, perfectly healthy. 

Hi Jagen,

Do we have class formats somewhere? Also we need to ask permission each time prior to teaching students?

Thanks for your help! It's been a while for me. :)

Ful yelped. His head hurt. He was not prepared to fight Merdyn and his five identical clones. What an ingenious way to weave illusions. Ful threw himself flat against the ground, ducking another head blow from all six lathes. Thoughts formed slower than actions as he raced around the multiple opponents, scrambling as he tried to detect the source of Merdyn’s attack. He swung his lathe into Merdyn’s shoulder only to have it cut right through air. Sigh. Another illusion.

As they dueled, the rains came. There was no warning, just a sudden assault of fast, fat raindrops. Within seconds Ful was drenched. He looked up, then around him. The white tree trunks washed black. Panic should hit the men as they spread out in bewilderment. Yet the rain had provoked no emotional response from the illusions who surround him. He marked the real Merdyn carefully, turning to face him with his gaze.

Brushing the running raindrops off his face with a calloused hand, Ful said to his friend. “Huh, it’s been some time since it rained.”

His trouser felt cold and clammy. There was no point to put his shirt back on under the deluge of rain. “Great work, friend. Shall we take a break until the rain lets off? Or would you like to keep fighting in the mud?”