YAY! What a wonderful vote of confidence. I have the post up. It's called Down the Rabbit Hole. Erlene has kinda set herself up for punishment, but she is stubborn.... >.<

The ink was barely dry on the letter to her father letting him know just where his wayward daughter had ended up, when she was rushed into a room full of dresses of every shape and size. Under the critical eye of a sharp faced Tower servant she stripped out of her comfortable green dress, narrow tan apron, and stockings. Then there ensued a kind of tug of war about the green headscarf.

"Would you hand me the head scarf?" the servant had a high pitched voice that was rapidly getting on Erlene's nerves. So much had happened in such a short amount of time they were strung abnormally tight and the idea of having to give up the symbol of her womanhood and respectability as a Murandian was just too much.

"No thank you," she said in a voice that she thought would end this part of the conversation. She watched as fine lines appeared at the corners of the other woman's mouth and eyes from her displeasure. Erlene had not intention of giving up the hair covering. They had marched her off with barely a word of explanation and informed her that it would be years before she had even the slightest chance of seeing her beloved father again. Now they were trying to strip away her modesty?

"Novices only wear white," the servant said and Erlene could feel her anger evaporate. Why hadn't this woman just said so? If she had known that it was just a matter of replacing it... She moved to untie the knot at the base of her skull, a delicate procedure with her curly, blonde hair often tangling around the knot, before she noticed the distinct lack of scarves or even a substitute material. Her fingers froze and she narrowed her eyes at the serving woman. How dare she!

"Do you have white head scarves?" Erlene asked fire lighting behind her dark blue eyes. The other woman's lips thinned at being found out.

"No...,"she began but Erlene didn't give her a chance to finish her internal mercury on the rise.

"Then I shall keep this one until you do," she cut off any further arguments from the serving woman and was soon dressed in a long sleeve white dress and stockings. Even her slightly worn leather shoes where dyed white. The green scarf on her golden hair practically glowed in its shock of color.

"We will see the Mistress of Novices, now," the other woman said with a smug look in her eyes. Erlene wondered what about the woman she was going to see inspired such a look. But she was not going to give up the head scarf. She marched behind the serving woman, the anger fueling her determination beginning to waver the further up the Tower they walked. She saw other young woman dressed in all white and none of them had head scarves. Some of them actually stared at her as she walked by. Maybe keeping the head scarf was a little foolish, but this was the path she had set out on. The serving woman stopped before a door with the flame of Tar Valon on the door. She knocked three times before leaving to complete her other duties.

Tywin listened as the other man spoke, his face unusually somber. It was important to him to be able to hold onto what little bit of a moral code he had. He had not thought about it in the form of learning how an assassin might go after him or his charge. It was an interesting perspective and one that he knew would be invaluable. He was not being asked to actually stalk and kill anyone-though that could lie in his future if it was a case of getting the other first. He began to realize how well he had done in choosing Visar for his mentor. He hadn't lied to him and tried to reassure him that such a fate was not in his future. He had laid out the facts and waited for Tywin to decide that he wanted more than just a working understanding of the weapon.

"I think this plan has merit," a quick smile curved his lips. "I look forward to this game of cat and mouse." 

~A few days later~

The cold had begun to set in, especially in the poorer sections of Tar Valon. At first, Tywin had thought this to his advantage. The weather forced anyone who had one to wear cloaks and coats that were perfect to hiding any number of knives. However, cloaks also hid the identifiable features on a person and with so many being wore the chances for duplication of the cloak were just about a guarantee. It made tracking Visar, who wore a different cloak each time and never his warder one, a task even with filling a trough with a sieve. But still, he kept on with in.

Tywin waved at one of the tavern owners he had gotten to know on his trips to the city and the rotund if dirty man shook his head. He had circulated a description of Visar among the tavern owners he could either bribe or charm (he had also made sure that they knew he and the warder weren't actually going to kill each other after a concerned innkeeper had sent for the Tower Guard and both of them had nearly spent the whole night in lock up) and he frequently used them as his first line of defense. Not that he relied on them overmuch. He walked inside the lower end establishment and walked the full length of the floor to the farthest corner table his eyes flicking left to right in a search for the gaidan. He caught sight of a man at the bar who, despite the heat thrown into the room by the large smokey fireplace, kept his hood on. Tywin threw his back and then had to join a card game in the corner with a few men he had cultivated a friendship with for their abilities to acquire rumors.

The barmaid, a painfully thin blonde woman who might have been pretty once, swung by to put a dented tankard of the watery brew that passed for ale here next to his elbow as he was dealt in. Tywin reach out and grabbed her wrist-behavior he would use if he was not in the establishment that he was-and pulled her into his lap. "Smile," he hissed in her ear as he slid a few coppers into her apron pocket. "The man at the bar with the hood..." he described Visar rapidly, " laugh if he matches my description." The woman laughed and bounded up from his lap the second that he let her go. Good. Now all he had to do was wait. He also made a note of the fact that the tavern keeper would change sides as quick as the money could land in his palm.

ooc:that ended up horribly long, but oh well. I intend to have much fun with this...

Alrighty then. One very bewildered novice heading your way...

So, Erlene needs to meet the MoN and I have no idea how to go about this. Should I just start a thread and label it Attn: MoN? Erlene has been tested, but it was done at the tower, so should I still RP that?

Weapons Score 1 to 2
 

An Uncertain Welcome

Decisions, Decisions

Try no to trip Tywin
Tywin's first few days at the WT along with basic fitness and movements. Movements portion still in progress

Weapons Score 2 to 3

Grappling with the knife

Visar trains Tywin in how to use his knife and urban warfare. In progress

Weapons Score 3 to 4

Missing music

Tywin steals an Aes Sedai's music box and reveals his hidden talents. In progress

Things were going better with the knife than Tywin had dared to hope. Living in the streets had given him an unforeseen understanding of knife tactics. The fact that he had managed to punch the other man, even if it had been a calculated move on Visar's part, raised his spirits. It had been so long since he had felt like he was learning something useful-his swimming lessons actually-that he was ready to jump from the city walls into the river if it was asked of him. He didn't miss the amount of trust that was being placed in him with the note as he pocketed it. It meant that they didn't think he was going to run. They actually thought that he had a future here. The idea delighted him and his characteristic half smile became a full blown one. He sobered up a the thought of the task before him, though. He had done his best to avoid assassination work while he had been in Caemlyn. He thought the work the worst kind of sin.

"Visar Gaidan," Tywin began hoping the other man would not think him a coward for his objections, "I do not wish to become an assassin. If I do as you ask, won't that be my fate?"

Tywin was eager to get back to training. The time off had been nice-he had used the chance to get to know the city of Tar Valon. It was a beautiful city and the amount of public spaces had been dizzying. He found himself enjoying the solitude of the gardens and parks almost as much as the rowdy crowds at some of the shadier taverns. The amount of respect his uniform gathered, however, was something that had made his skin crawl. He couldn't wait to be able to put on some normal clothing and not be noticed again. It went against ever instinct he had cultivated over the years to draw attention to himself.

He walked over the lathes, running his hands over wood that had been painstakingly polished over the years from use. He looked at one about the size of his whole arm and shook his head. He knew it was supposed to emulate a sword. While it was likely something he was going to have to know just because the weapon was so common and so many people wouldn't take you seriously as a threat without one, he had no intention of making it his primary weapon. He needed something like himself-something that could be hidden or used in close quarters. A slight smile curved on his lips as his fingers lighted on a smaller lathe. It was actually the smallest one there-the length from the tip of his fingers to his elbow. He gripped the slightly rougher end and twisted his wrist to get a feel for the weight. It weighed more than the type of dagger he was used to-those could fit in his coat sleeves with none the wiser.

"I'd like to try this one," Tywin said moving away from the lathe rack and into the practice ring. He moved so his feet were slightly more than shoulder width apart and waited to see what Coraman had planned.

YAY! Mistress will keep Elle.

And hello happy person!

Ok.

I like him. Course I hang out in the SG social group most of the time these days....

I hope things work out better. I'm really excited to try my hands at a ash'aman.

R&U

Do they have to be finished to be documented? Cause if not he should be around a two or three...

Elle has much practice in the cleaning. Elle is a good novice. Elle will get a pretty banded dress and then earn Elle's freedom...

Oh, what a splendid idea. I really like it. It could be tons of fun. And I live on the interwebs, so I tend to check in here a lot.

*Squeeeeeeee* Oh the bouncy funs!

Hi. I'm new. Pleased to meet everyone. *hands out snickerdoodles*

And Tywin was glad he had not used the last of the bruise balm Coraman had given him. On top of the new bruises, there was tingling down in his fingers from the wrenching of his shoulder. He absorbed the lesson, though. Commit to your attack. And something he should know all too well: never let them see it coming. Oddly enough, it was a little like running a trick or con. Perhaps if he treated it as one? Though this knife was far too big to shove up a sleeve... He picked up his own weapon.

"Understood," he replied moving so that they were not so close together. "Although this is a rather large knife to hide. Wouldn't the attack have been better with a palm sized dagger?" He made to demonstrate the size using his own palm and while the other man's attention was on his free hand he moved he knife towards Visar's ribs. He knew his move would not hit-warders seemed to have an odd sixth sense when it came to attacks. He waited until Visar committed to the same wrist grab as before, no doubt wanting him to learn to block such a move, and brought the fist of his free hand now fisted up to connect with Visar's face.

ooc: you're great on the god-moding bit. And I have no clue what I am doing, so short it is.

Mother's milk in a cup, could this get any worse! Tywin did his best to make his nerves look like the result of being in the presence of the Aes Sedai and not the fact that he recognized her as the one who had left the music box in the first place. He shoved suddenly sweaty palms into his pockets and nearly jumped out of his skin as the Aes Sedai described the music box laying near his feet. Why had he been so foolish? He should never had taken the box. He felt like he was standing balanced on a razor blade as he thought of all the work he had put in to adjusting to life here and everything was in jeopardy because of his rashness.

He looked up as the Aes Sedai cut off and felt his heart jump into his throat as she moved towards the box. Not thinking-far closer to outright panic than he would ever admit-he moved to stop the Aes Sedai and collided with her. They ended up in a heap on the floor with Tywin attempting to snatch the offending box off the floor.

Tyr stared at the candle over the top of his black linen veil with a look he wore only when concentrating on a very difficult trade deal. Unlike the merchants who normally got nervous from the look the candle stayed there lit- the little flame swaying slightly. Lighting the candle had been easy enough with the little bit of practice he had. Putting it out was harder. Drumming up that little bit of air or water to douse it was frustrating. He sat back in his chair at the sound of someone knocking on his door.He called for them to enter and rose when he recognized the sword on the man's collar. Such emphasis was put on rank here you'd think them all Tairen.

"You're wanted in the infirmary," he was told before the other man left. It was not an altogether odd request-the acting head was also in charge of the infirmary. It was just that he couldn't think of any reason for him to be summoned. It was after dinner which meant free time generally and he had not done anything of late that should've garnered him notice. He shrugged and licked his fingers to put the candle out. He stuffed his hands in his pockets the left closing around the hard shape of a small locket. He'd best be getting on.

Cool. So I can't burn out by accident. Can I blow up stuff by accident?

Did Coraman think he was planning to sneak off in the middle of the night? The idea repulsed him in a way few things had. He took the balm with a polite word of thanks, mind boogled by the idea of a whole nation of people who were bred to do this, and wandered towards his room to put the balm away. Tywin hadn't reacted that way to anything since some blackguard had approach him about murder for hire. Why was the idea of leaving here, of sneaking off in the middle of the night, some how worse than that blasted course? Maybe, he thought as he put the bed in the small chest at the foot of his bed, he really was making a home here despite the bruises, sore muscles, and endless amounts of weird protocol he actually liked it here. Huh. Well, if he liked it here, he'd better conquer that Light blasted course.

~

The next day found his muscles less sore-there was a dull ache that he had a feeling would likely never truly go away-and his spirit in much better cheer. He would not be beaten by an inanimate obstacle course. He was here to make his dad proud, not for his pride. True, he would have setbacks, the first run of the day was full of them, but it wasn't about conquering those. It was about dragging himself-dripping wet, dirt covered, and sore-across that finish line day after day. Muscles would stop being sore eventually. The knowledge of just how to complete an obstacle would become second nature. Speed would come with confidence.

~

Tywin inhaled the autumn chilled air with his characteristic half smile once more on his face. Ever since he had begun letting go of his pride things had been going better. He still woke up in the mornings more sore than not. He still thought that enough water to swim in was a trap invented by the Dark One himself, but it no longer felt insurmountable. It helped that as time went on he got to know other trainees who were in similar situations to his. He had someone to grip with and about the instructors and the course. Coraman even stopped by from time to time to make sure that he was still alive.

He had made the one month mark last night and even with the new pains from running the course ten times a day he was still in good spirits. It was a crazy requirement running the whole thing ten times a day and often left had him running before sunrise and after dark because of the other coursework. But he persevered nonetheless.

ooc:it's fine. I'm running out of things to learn from the course, though...

Well, Tywin decided, this was already better than the guy who taught the staff. That was a series of endless drills that he could do in his sleep now and it looked like his chances of actual sparring were somewhere between the Dark One kissing his feet in joy and his dad showing up to practice. He picked up the training weapon feeling the solid weight of the weapon in his hand. The blade was longer and heavier than he was used to. In truth, he had signed up (well made markings that looked like what Coraman had pointed out his name looked like. He could neither read nor write) because the dagger was the weapon he had the most experience with. He had never really learned forms and likely had a bunch of what the instructors referred to as "bad habits," but he had seen far too many cut down in their prime by a child for a scrap of food.

He moved into a stance that had his feet slightly wider than his shoulders and held the knife diagonal across his front in his right hand. His left was crossed behind it and felt weird without the second smaller dagger he was used to. He knew he was going to get into a lot of trouble for trying to block along his left forearm without that dagger against it, but it was habit. He moved forward in a thrusting motion intending to feint, but the knife's reach was longer than he was used to and he had little choice but to commit to the thrust.

ooc: I'm not very good with action sequences and unsure how much I can get away with without it seeming god-moding. You can beat pretty close to the snot out of him, if you so desire. If you want me to try for more action, I will do so.

Tywin wondered if the bit of dust he had inhaled had actually been snakes instead as he took in the sight of the Master at Arms standing in the doorway with her sword drawn. He was going to need to the Dark One's own luck to get out of this one. He licked his dust covered lips and grimaced at the taste before deciding to just go with the excuse he had used on the cook minus the charm. Kilrin was quite immune to it.

"Locked? I was merely trying to get in some early practice...The door wasn't locked," his voice was steady if a little fast-evening out as he spoke. He didn't like lying, but he had too much practice to let his lack of comfort show. A good lie, after all, could be the difference between the gallows and your next meal on the streets. The music box was on the ground next to the scythes where he had dropped it in order to cough. Thankfully, there wasn't enough light yet to reach it and set off a shine. He still needed to pull her attention away from it. "I am, however, a bit clumsy..." Tywin bent down away from the box and made to pick up one of the shields that had fallen. He gritted his teeth a little at the weight. It was a full shield that would cover him from ankle to chin and made of metal. He was glad the rectangular thing was not something he had to practice with.

Tywin woke a week and a half later with dread in his gut and aches in places he didn't know he had. As he sat up he wondered if it was possible for your hair to hurt. The thought brought a chuckle which turned into a wince as the movement contracted his stomach and chest muscles. Right, none of that. He had thought the first course was something from the Dark One's own mind, but he had since learned different. He hadn't fainted on his first few run-throughs of the course-he had far too much caution to go full bore on something so new-but he had spent a good quarter of a bell lying on the ground near the finish line willing his shaking muscles to move properly. He'd walked oddly for the rest of the day and the knowing looks from the instructors were just a hair too close to pity for his taste.

The more he ran the course the more he hated it. Tywin had the distinct feeling that the others who ran the course while he was on it were doing their best not to laugh at his sometimes fumbling attempts-so he didn't know how to swim and had to get up an hour early to go to that special class. It wasn't like there was really water all over the place in Caemlyn. It didn't help that after you got the basics down the instructor then insisted you do it all with your boots and uniform on. The boots were like giant buckets around your ankles and the uniform like a lead cloak.

Tywin checked his boots for scuffs before shoving them on his feet. The only good thing to come of it was that his boots now fitted his feet like they had been sculpted for them. Too make matters worse-and they seemed to only be getting worse-he was now close to the point were he was expected to run the course five times a day instead of just twice. The thought was enough to chase what little appetite he had away. He could only imagine how foolish he had looked saying he had figured out how to become strong to Coraman. No wonder she had laughed so. He must look twice the fool when he struggled so.

But it didn't matter, Tywin decided as he left the barracks to walk towards the bane of his existence. He would conquer this or die trying. Most likely he'd die, but his pride would not let him quit. He nodded towards the other trainees and the few guards who enjoyed running the course before breakfast. They had gotten to know each other in a way. These were the ones, after all, who had taught him to stretch before attempting the course. He copied movements he scarce understood before taking his place at the starting line. He wondered what new pain the course would teach him this day.