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    Reading, games, rping, anime, and tons of fiction novels
  1. Except Mat wasn't necessarily any of those people whose eyes he looked through. Birgitte's comment was that Mat's Old Tongue changed from a high lord of manetheren to a common solder and on to something else with extreme ease. His ability to speak it was an amalgam of all his memories, and to anyone who grew up speaking the Old Tongue it would be the equivalent of someone changing from a heavy British accent to an indian one to southern US redneck. It would stand out like a sore thumb. The Eelfin shoved memories into his head from tons of people. On top of that Mat isn't tied to the Horn of Valere. Odds are none of the memories they gave him were from any past lives of his, just random people who have encountered the Eelfin in one way or another over the years.
  2. Yep, their conversation in the waterfall. Your turn.
  3. "But it's not the profit. It's the pleasure." "Perhaps less pleasurable and more costly than you think!"
  4. Ah, nothing like a fort in the middle of winter. Drafts? sure. Sudden areas of cold? definitely. But there were also a great many warm areas, as well as places with food for soldiers who couldn't make it to the mess hall. One could go to and seek warmth anywhere within, and possibly a bite to eat too. Any port in a storm, and any fort in a snowstorm. Gevin smiled and made short friendly conversations with the guards he passed on his way to the mess hall. Their responses were guarded, but at least they were willing to respond. That gave him a place to start. The words of Gevin's old master echoed in his mind: Always gauge the mood of your audience before you start. Use them to determine what you'll perform. He may not have completed his training as a gleeman, but he still knew a lot about entertaining others. But better yet, he saw little evidence of full supply wagons able to move quickly in this weather, so the fact that this fort was fully supplied and none of the guards seemed stressed or underfed meant someone was helping them out - like an Asha'man who could move across any distance in a blink of an eye. He found his way to the mess hall with the aid of a few soldiers pointing the way. Not many people here at this time, it seemed. For that matter, what time of day was it anyway? The skies weren't clear enough to tell by sunlight alone. Well, no matter. Soldiers needed to eat, and they knew what that time would be. He'd just have to wait here, and warm up for showtime. In the meantime though he walked over to where the kitchen was, conversing with the chefs – who kept a wooden spoon on hand and watched him for any filching, apparently the soldiers here had quite an appetite – and spoke with them for a time, asking questions about their work, what they were preparing, could he sample a bit… no? alright then, but surely they could share something about any other visitors to the fort besides himself. The head cook grew silent at that, then turned and got everyone back to work without another word to the Lugarder. But that was the last nail in the coffin for Gevin, they were here today. Finally, he’d be able to speak with someone who could help him learn to control this… ability of his. Assuming they didn't kill him outright, one never knew what could happen with potential madmen - after all, here he was coming to learn how to channel rather than hiding someplace where this ability couldn't hurt anyone. Gevin found a well lit corner in the mess hall and sat on top of one of the tables, drawing out a number of brightly colored balls and juggling them to warm his limbs up. First it was a simple pattern of three, then four, then five, then swapping out the balls for different colors without missing a single beat. Always advertise your presence before you get to the good stuff. The few guards present in the mess hall now would spread the word, and by the time they came for meals he'd be ready to start performing for real. “Gather round, gather round, I bring tales from afar with news for all! Great deeds in the works my friends, by young and old, man and woman, come hear their stories when the feast is served!” The soldiers present noted him, some of them even smiling a bit and heading out to tell others. Gevin continued to juggle the balls, shifting them to one hand as he prepared other items for the show – perfectly balanced throwing knives, a small jar of lantern oil for the flaming displays, drawing up specific stories by memory, all the things that had been drilled into him over these last couple years. Despite having been separated from his master just a couple months ago, Gevin had picked up a few tricks in his travels that the old man hadn’t quite been willing to teach yet because he was inexperienced as an entertainer. Well, time to see how good he’d gotten. Let the hour approach, he’d be ready for a fine performance – and then a long talk with the Asha’man who were probably up in the lookout or map room, places where he’d never be allowed to go as a stranger. The stage was set, all he had to do now was wait and perform.
  5. Alright, let's try a different quote (mine was from Maverick - the western film about a con artist, not the other one) "11% is more than enough. Any human being would have known that."
  6. "Who here wants to play poker? Who wants to see some guy get killed? No? No. Let's play poker."
  7. Okay, I know that one. Jack Reacher
  8. In that case: Funny, she don't look Druish.
  9. Yep, it's the first Hobbit movie. I said it would be an easy one
  10. Alright, let's do an easy one. "Shut up!" "I... didn't say anything." "We wasn't talking to you."
  11. Aidanna? We're waiting on you to give the next quote.
  12. Four weeks. Four long weeks of hiking, riding, earning a bed at inns by using what gleeman skills he had learned from his old mentor, and here Gevin was headed up to northern Andor following another probably-useless lead. He had been searching for weeks since his recovery from that strange sickness, trying to find them, but he had never been lucky enough to be in a town at the same time as those recruiters. All he ended up with each time was rumors of holes in the air, of those men showing up and taking anyone who volunteered to join the Dragon Reborn's cause then vanishing as if they never were. And those were the tame bits, stories about the Asha'man spread like wildfire even in these frigid conditions. According to his sources in Caemlyn, in the last week or so men in black coats had been purchasing supplies and sending them through those strange portals, and one of them mentioned a place called Oldwater. A little more digging revealed the place to be a fortress on the northern border, useless before the Shadowspawn had begun moving south but now it probably served as a very important lookout point to watch for anything coming southward. Unlike the other stories he’d chased, at least this one had a decent reason for Asha’man to be there, so now it was a simple horse ride and a roll of the dice. As his horse wove her way through the snowdrifts toward a fort that neither of them could see, Gevin tried to imagine what life would be like after he joined up with the Asha’man. Dangerous, obviously, what with saidin being tainted and them being the Dragon’s personal soldiers, but there had to be more to it than that. Daily life, training, would it be like some army drill sergeant or perhaps more like his gleeman training? “Well, however it works out it’s got to be warmer than this eh Tessa?” The horse whickered in response but kept plodding forward. “Oh what I wouldn’t give for a nice hot cup of tea right now, a nice thick wool blanket, a pipe filled to the brim with tabac- wait, is it getting warmer?” He pulled Tessa to a stop as he looked around, trying to find the source of the sudden burst of warmth, but even as he stopped it was blown away by a strong wind. Bloody ashes, I did it again… Gevin shuddered and urged his horse forward again. He really hoped the Asha’man would be there this time, these random moments of channeling were starting to scare him. A voice called out from the snow, “Halt! Stay where you are.” Gevin stopped Tessa again as he was surrounded by a group of soldiers in Andoran armor. “Alright, who are you and what are you doing out here?” Finally! He must have made it to Oldwater! With a great big smile he stood up on top of his horse and gave them his best theatric bow. “The name is Gevin Dallor, sir, glee-well, gleeman in training anyway. I’ve been traveling through this snowstorm for a while and was hoping you would allow me to stay at your outpost until it passes. I’ll happily entertain you and your men in exchange for room and board, and perhaps some extra feed for my horse here.” The guardsman was sighing before Gevin was even halfway done. “Just what we need, another mouth to feed. Fine, you can stay until the snowstorm passes, but if you try anything you’ll be on the end of my sword in seconds. Understand?” “Of course sir, of course, these are dangerous times after all. Now then, which way to the nearest fire?” By the time the patrol brought Gevin into Oldwater with them he already had several of them laughing, and as he stabled Tessa he smiled at his horse. “Well, we’ve arrived old girl. You get yourself warmed up while I see if our friends are here.”
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