His time so far at the Black Tower had gone faster than he would have expected.

Once the basics of how to seize saidin had been shown to him, and the five powers explained and demonstrated, much of the time he’d been left on his own to “figure out” the rest of it for himself. It was certainly a dangerous, high-risk method of training, but at the same time it forced (or allowed, depending on one’s view of things) initiates to progress rapidly. It also resulted in some creative ways to use the Power, some of which in turn created impressive new weaves. Most of this was inconsequential to him, but he had picked up a trick or two. Also, he was still maintained wild enough façade to not earn suspicion despite his obvious abilities, which was imperative. And fun, too, he had to admit.

But today, he wasn’t working on his own. Today he was working under the supervision of Arath, and working with Tai’Dashan, another relative newcomer to the Tower.

Arath had turned out to be a man that he respected and actually could see himself becoming friends with, if the Attack Leader weren’t his superior, of course. Discipline had to be maintained in an organization as violent as this, and Drak understood completely. But he had certainly come to like the man.

Tai’Dashan, on the other hand, he enjoyed teasing. Mainly because the guy was so eager all the time. Drak was reminded of an excited puppy trying to be a big dog every time he looked at the other Soldier. It always brought a slight smile to his face, and his blue eyes often flashed mischievously. Teasing him was a lot of fun.

Looking over the plans that Arath laid out and listening to his instructions, Drak wasn’t too worried. Earth was something he had demonstrated a high amount of strength in, even though he hadn’t shown his true skill… but more importantly, Tai’Dashan was horrible with it. Today promised to be VERY entertaining.

While Tai’Dashan walked over and began struggling to work his Earth weaves, Drak winked at Arath. Unnoticed by his fellow Soldier, he walked over to a nearby tool shed, where he entered and retrieved a suitable tool.

Walking back to Tai’Dashan, he stood next to him and watched silently as his “brother” struggled mightily. After several long moments passed, Drak patted him on the back and, smiling like a jackass eating saw briars, handed him the shovel.

“Maybe this will help.”

He thought Arath was going to hurt himself laughing so hard.

Cor looked around suspiciously. This didn’t make any sense… Why is he giving up without a fight? he thought to himself.

Quickly scanning the rooftops that overlooked the alleyway, the young Aiel Stone Dog saw no subtle movements, no unusual shadows, no telltale signs of a trap. The submissive shape of his prey just sat their forlornly in the dust, his head held in his hands without the slightest hint of resistance. Well, so much for a merry chase, he thought reluctantly. Still, he had a job to do, and he needed to find out what he was dealing with. But it didn’t appear that there would be any death dealt today, so he lowered his veil.

He approached the man without the slightest hesitation, but he kept a careful eye out for any hint of a threat. When he was within a few feet, the man sighed and muttered helplessly, “Make it quick.”

Wondering what under the Light the man meant, Cor nudged him with a toe. A bit of honor gained, in an otherwise dismal turn of events, he joked with himself. Touching an armed enemy earned more honor than killing him, but the nudge was more of a joke with himself than any real achievement. This fellow seemed ready to wake from the dream for some reason.

“Look at me, prowler,” Cor commanded. “I won’t kill you without reason. But I will take you before the magistrate to see that justice is d---” The caught cat burglar looked up at him balefully, and the face Cor saw momentarily stunned him to silence.

“YOU!”

Smiling broadly at the unexpected turn of events, Cor urged him on to his feet. “I think I’ve got someone you would like to meet, my would-be-killer. We’re going to the tents!”

The strange pair walked through the night toward where the Aiel were camped, one with despair apparent in his slumped posture, the other with a bounce in his step that broadcast happiness. There was a certain young lady that was often in Cor’s tent that the young Aiel was suddenly very eager to talk to. This night turned out to be pretty interesting, after all.

The Aiel’s blue eyes twinkled mischievously in the moonlight.

Mat stood there with his helmet in his hand. “What the hell?”

In the midst of the strange scene of Mouse “defending” him by running out of the stands, and the uproar that followed, including the bit where the coaches shouted everyone down, somehow one of the linemen's feet had become firmly lodged in the soil of the practice field. It was very, very strange…

Wiping his sweat-drenched hair out of his face, he looked up into the stands to see Mouse being joined by another boy, this one in a long trench coat. It seemed Mouse was totally lost to the world, because he nearly jumped out of his skin when the other dude patted him on the shoulder.

It seemed as if they were friends, because Mouse seemed to relax a bit and started talking to him, but it was a very strange scene. Could Mouse have had something to do with the lineman's being buried? he thought to himself. Nah. He’s probably just rattled from the fact that he ran onto the field and had everyone yelling at him. He couldn’t possibly have done something like that. It would be…

“It would be what?” a little voice in the back of his head that sounded strangely like his grandfather’s said. “Like something from a comic book? Like a boy who can set himself on fire without getting burned?” Stamping out the voice in his head, Mat admitted to himself that anything was possible. But it certainly wasn’t likely.

Looking back to the stands where the strange little guy was sitting, Mat decided to take the opportunity to get another swig of water and make sure Mouse was okay. Trotting over to the sidelines, he grabbed a water bottle, and squirted a long stream of high quality H2O into his mouth. Several other players joined him while the digging out of the quarterback continued. He took the chance to ease over in front of where Mouse and Trench Coat were sitting.

“You okay, Mouse?” he asked. “Thanks for watching my back out there, but I think I can handle those guys.” Smiling broadly, he went on, “Still, thanks. I appreciate it. Hey, did you see what happened with that dude's feet? Weird, huh?”

He might’ve missed it if he hadn’t been watching closely, but he was paying very close attention to Damon. Without a doubt, he flinched when he mentioned it. Maybe he has a secret, too, thought Mat. Several whistles called an end to the unexpected break before he could follow that train of thought any further, and the coaches returned to yelling for everyone to get back to work.

Strapping on his helmet, Mat said before he followed his teammates. “Hey, Mouse. If you aren’t busy after practice, maybe we can hang out.” Turning slightly, he added to the other guy, “Nice coat, man,” then sprinted back to take his place on the field.

OOC: edited to correct my mistake. whoops!  :P

Mat noticed the looks Mouse gave the loud group on the other side of the cafeteria, but he didn’t pry. If the other boy wanted to talk about whatever it was, then he would. Otherwise, Mat would let that sleeping dog lie. I need to figure out where I stand, before I worry about everyone else’s problems, he admitted to himself.

When Mouse got to the jokes, Mat couldn’t help but laugh. The little guy was funny, if in a weird kind of way. It would be fun to play along, just to see what would happen, so Mat relaxed a bit and had a go. Purposefully adopting a blank-eyed stare, very much like a bastard cat, and letting just a little drool run out of his mouth, Mat responded with the dumbest sounding voice he could manage.

“Dumb? Not me! I be real smart, and I get to ride on my own bus as proof! It is short, like my own car, and it even says ‘Special’ on the side! So take that, big shot!” Laughing out loud, he went on. “And I can count to big numbers: one, two, four, five! And I talk good, too.”

Laughing heartily, he couldn’t go on with the character. Judging by Damon’s own laughter, he thought it was pretty funny, as well.

“Seriously, man,” Mat went on, “I really do enjoy playing sports. As a matter of fact, I’ve got football practice the last session of the day, and I’m not too bad. But there’s more to me than meets the eye.” Much more, he thought to himself. “I’m not as dumb as I look, but that would be damn near impossible, wouldn’t it?”

Chuckling a bit more, he added, “Actually, I’m a bit of a nerd. I like science and math and reading and all that. But nobody’s perfect. Right?” Smiling brightly, he once again bit into his pizza, and talked around another mouthful.

“What about you, little Mouse? How do you keep from getting stepped on? And what do you do around here when you’re not coming up with clever nicknames for new kids?”

“GAH!”

In an instant, he went from enjoying a leisurely stroll with Owen to getting knocked to the ground, attacked by one of the many dangers the tall, ghost-like Ranger had warned him about. He couldn’t move, which was odd even pinned to the ground as he was.

It took him a couple of moments before he realized the “attack” was really only a joke that Owen and his companion Ice had played on him. The long, warm licks on his face were certainly not threatening now that his initial shock was gone, and he heard Owen laughing out loud just a few feet away. Even the look in the wolf’s face seemed amused at his predicament.

Turning red with embarrassment, Speed joined in the laughter. It was funny, after all. “I’m pinned like a turtle on its back,” he admitted, laughing at himself all the more. “But what is that clanking sound?”

Looking down at his still immobile body, the young Wolfkin saw that his entire body was covered in the thick, steel plate armor often worn by Children of the Light. “So that’s why…” CLANK!

To add insult and more humor to the situation, a metal faceguard fell into place suddenly. So I’m wearing a helm, too. Blood and bloody ashes, he cursed in his head.

“I’ll never live this down, will I Owen?” he asked sheepishly, the grin on his face both amused and embarrassed. Chuckling at the scene, and at the happy wolf still standing on his chest, he added with a long sigh and almost uncontrolled laughter, “Like a big shiny steel turtle, indeed!”

He hoped Owen didn’t hurt himself laughing so hard.

The giant Ogier trudged along silently in the midst of the heavily armored soldiers that surrounded him. His hands and feet were bound by heavy ropes, but they weren’t what was keeping him hostage. He could easily have broken free of those bonds, but the unconscious man on the horse in front of him was going nowhere in his current state.

And honestly, I am tired of carrying the lazy, Light-cursed fool, Forge thought to himself, the amusement in his mind a stark contrast to the imminent danger his current situation presented him. I don’t think I could survive the fight with all these Children of Light, either, not without killing them anyway… and I’d hate to do that unless they forced my hand. And it wouldn’t be easy with my axes strapped to the back of a horse instead of in my hands.

With the thought, he flexed the hands tied behind his back to keep the blood flowing to them. The heavily callused pair were as big as large hams, and strong enough to crush granite and bend steel, but the tightly knotted hemp were annoyingly cutting off the circulation. The mammoth arms rippling visibly with muscle despite the coat he wore defied the captivity that the pitiful cords that wrapped him assumed, but his mind was what truly restrained his strength. Now was not the time to be hasty. No, it is best to wait, he thought sagely, the voice in his head sounding eerily similar to his old master blacksmith. He could almost see his master Stonemason standing behind nodding agreement.

Ogier can be patient, and that is what I must do, added the voice. Then he began ticking off the points in order to make a plan and keep his hopes up. After all, death could be waiting just over the next rise in the road. These Whitecloaks were capable soldiers, and a foot or two of steel run through his chest would definitely ruin his day, as well as prevent him from having any other days to make up for it in the future. We have several days before we reach our destination. An opportunity will present itself to both escape and save the unfortunate human. I must be ready, but until then, I will remain quiet.

Speaking up had done nothing but earn him a spear butt to the stomach when he had corrected the Questioner for labeling him as a Shadowspawn. Apparently, the fool was too stupid to know the difference between an Ogier and a Trolloc, and the patrol of Whitecloaks was lock-stepping right in line with the vile little man’s wishes.

Tonight, we will see what sort of precautions they take… who knows what may happen? But the time will come, and I will be ready. The determination was rock solid in his mind, and the vow to himself was as unbreakable as good steel. The time would come, and he wouldn’t mind if he could smash the little Questioner in the process… the man had shown nothing but brazen contempt for Forge’s compassionate sparing of his life. If that is how he wants to play the game, then that is how it will be played. But be careful where you go, little man. Or else a mountain will fall on your head.

The Whitecloaks nearest him gave each other strange looks when the smile spread across his face. 

“Yes,” Forge responded, his deep bass voice resonating with obvious pleasure. “This is the Stedding.”

It was like the first whiff of his mom’s apple pie after a long time away. It was like seeing a friend he’d not seen in ages. It was like his dad giving him a big bear hug. It was like coming home.

The mystical dividing line that separated the rest of the world from the sanctuary that a Stedding provided was invisible, but its effects were readily apparent, not only to all who experienced the crossing, but to anyone who looked at the surrounding countryside, as well. The woodland growth was more lush, the trees taller, the grass more green, the scattered flowers not so rare. The Stedding was like a fertile basin that showcased the landscape’s flora in its most glorious.

To those who crossed into the Stedding from Outside, it brought a sense of peace and contentment, a knowledge that while things wouldn’t always be easy, any struggles one might have could be dealt with. It didn’t erase the knowledge that the world was often a terrible place filled with violence and death, but it reminded you that the world also held beauty and life, and worrying about the tribulations was pointless if one didn’t appreciate the joys.

Sighing deeply, happily, Forge turned to the lone human amongst the troupe of Ogier Stonemasons, and smiled in a grin that nearly split his face in two. “Welcome to the Stedding, Isha. May it help you find peace in your soul. Lay your burdens down, for here is a place to rest.”

Paying heed to his own suggestion, the giant, young Ogier, dropped his travel pack to the ground, as his fellows were doing as well, and found a likely place to relax for a bit before making camp for the next few weeks. Here, they would rest and recuperate away from all the trials that they dealt with in the world of men.

He sighed contentedly again as he reclined comfortably against a large maple tree, stretching out comfortably in the hopes that he might take a nap. “It is good to be back.”

“Hmmm?” Forge asked rhetorically, lost in his own thoughts as he was. Then, recalling the words, he answered without the need for Nerome to repeat them.

“Sorry about that. I was lost in the moment.” His ears twitching with his slight embarrassment, the giant Ogier responded, the deep bass of his voice sounding like a bumblebee the size of a large pony. “I don’t know how long I’ll be staying in Tar Valon, to be honest. It will be several days at the least. I’ve a few small errands to take care of today, but other than that I will be enjoying staying in one place for more than one night.”

Grinning at the thought of relaxing and getting away from the troubles of the road, Forge continued. “I will be traveling with Dilora Fashelle, the peddler. You remember her, I’m sure.” Nerome nodded, and the Ogier went on. “She is planning on heading to Cairhein, I believe. Although, she said her business here may take a while. What did you have on your mind?”

Leaning back against the tree, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the restful moment. Too few humans appreciate the quiet times, he thought, as he savored the stillness that came so rarely in the world of men. That is why they get me into so much trouble!

OOC: sorry for the delay, Vera.  :-\

The giant Ogier smiled at his little sister’s choice of words, the grin nearly splitting his face in two. Difficulties indeed, he thought cheerfully. He knew Tirzah, and she was proud and free as a wild horse running in the wind, and he doubted that succumbing to the strict rules and tedium of the White Tower’s ways had been easy for her to adjust to. Of course, the Aes Sedai would’ve had a hard time adjusting to Tirzah, too. He chuckled richly at the thought.

As he listened to her story, he wondered at this Gray Sister. She must be a formidable woman to have gotten Tirzah to be wary of her. Rubbing the tuft of hair beneath his lower lip, the Imperial he wore in remembrance of his time in the Borderlands, among other things. Lily! he thought, before mentally stomping on the emotions that he tried to keep buried. Now is not the time! Tirzah needs my help, and I don’t need to worry about things that are dead and gone! I miss you, Lily… He forcefully gave himself another mental kick or three, before returning his attention to Tirzah’s words.

Forge considered her tale, but he was stunned by her final pronouncement.

“What?!” he boomed, sounding like a thunderclap, his surprise echoing in his deep bass voice. “You want to become a blacksmith? I would be glad to teach you, although you are starting very late in life…” Pondering the possibilities, Forge froze as the realization of what she meant hit him like a hammer between the eyes.

“You mean with the Power, don’t you?” At her nod, he let out a sigh of wonder at the mystical forces that dwelt within his little sister. “I will be honored to help in any way I can, Little Sister, although I don’t know what that will be,” he said reverently, adding a bow that he spoiled with a mischievous wink. “Working metals is complex, but you’ve a mind that is quick enough to catch on pretty fast, I think. What do you want of me? And when do we begin?”

Aginor looked around thoughtfully as he sat back against the wall of a tool shed within viewing distance of the earlier conflict. He wasn’t worried about being recognized; because the simple Illusion weave he had woven was of an old serving man. Certainly, he wasn’t worthy of even a second look in his thin, stooped frame and threadbare garments.

He was interested in what would happen next. Surely the madman will return to the scene of his breakdown, the Chosen thought coldly, watching as the black-coated Soldiers and Dedicateds swarmed over the scene like ants when someone had kicked their hill. He had plenty of time to wait, and in the meantime, as the day drug on and the night grew long, he reflected on the day’s events. It had certainly taken a while to get to this point.

He had uncovered a lot of intriguing bits in his tenure at the Black Tower, and the history of Isha the Giant was certainly a succulent morsel to one such as himself. The odd blend of honor, anger, and guilt in the big man made for an inherently unstable mind, and it had all come crashing on down on his large head earlier this morning. Such a waste… he laughed silently, the feral gleam in his eyes belying his otherwise harmless facade. I could have had so much fun with him.

As if summoned by the Great Lord himself, the gigantic Asha’man appeared in the darkness before the dawn, staggering, crawling on hands and knees, pulling himself toward the scene of his utter failure.

Wriggling like a worm in the dirt, the Chosen thought triumphantly as he looked around to ensure that no one was around to see. There was NO ONE. The fool’s crazed behavior yesterday had scared away any who might have helped him, and the hour prohibited most everyone else from being about.

Too bad, thought Aginor without the slightest hint of pity. Hehehe, his mind laughed with unbridled glee at the fun he was about to have.

Grinning predatorily, he picked his way through the rubble that was left of his old home and toward the prone giant amidst the ashes of his own ruin. Hapless, hopeless, helpless, he was…

Aginor strode toward the sobbing man in the bottom of his pit, licking his lips like he was about to taste charbroiled steak fresh off the grill, although to a man such as himself, if there were other such men, this was ever so much more delicious. He was standing directly over the shattered remains of the towering giant, sobbing and shaking as he was, before Isha noticed him. Looking up at him through a mask of tears, dirt, and ash, the Asha’man said nothing through the gasps of anguish, a look of loss and confusion painted across his filthy face.

“Awww… are you missing your daddy?” Aginor asked, the sweetness of his tone adding even more menace to his words.

“Wha…? Who?” Isha began, shying away instinctively as the humble servant before him rippled and became the man he had killed so many in order to destroy. The look of horror on Isha’s face was enough to make the Chosen dance for joy, if he were into that sort of thing. As a madman, he most definitely was.

Slamming a shield into place over the fallen Asha’man and binding him with Air, Aginor bent down and looked closely into his face, the soft cackles of mirth bubbling up from him like a happy, but mad, little stream.

“Hehehe!!! Awww… did you miss me?”

not me. i am very much alive. *grins*  8)

cranks up the volume on the CD player and plays "Staying Alive" by the Bee Gees.  ;D

He couldn’t help but smile as she boldly cast aside her raiment and leapt into the creek. He couldn’t help but enjoy the view even more when she stood there in her soaking wet shift and gave him a smile. It was so teasingly sheer, it left only a little to the imagination, and the body that moved beneath the thin garment was enough to set his blood afire, despite the early hour.

She returned to the water with an enticing glance over her shoulder, so he stood and casually strolled toward the water’s edge. She lay back coyly in the water, making playful patterns across the water’s surface as he approached, the smile on her face as radiant as the first flower of spring. He took his time, enjoying not only the beautiful day, but also the lovely, and charming company he had to share it with.

When he made it to the creek bank, he crouched down on his heels, and smiled devilishly at Zoe as she playfully splashed water at him. “I don’t know,” he said teasingly. “What’s the water like?”

She laughed, a crystalline glimmer that somehow aroused him even more, while at the same time fitting in perfectly with the songbirds playing their own romantic games in the treetops. With only her head above the water, she winked naughtily at him and slowly lifted one arm out of the water with a balled up cloth in her hand. She flung it at him, and he caught it, getting soaked in the process. Before he could do more than get wet and acknowledge that it was her shift, she ducked completely out of sight before re-surfacing.

Only this time, she slowly stood up. Inch by lovely inch, she rose out of the water, the beads of water gleaming on her skin like liquid diamonds. As she finally emerged, with only her feet being lightly caressed by the flowing water and nothing between him and her but a few feet of air, she posed for him, the smile on her face as wickedly playful as her teasing innocence of a few moments before. “Why Drak, the water is just fine. Why don’t you join me?”

He tore off his clothes in record time.

He held the pin casually in his left hand as he listened intently to what the Captain had to say. If anyone was paying attention, they would have noticed that his grip was exactly like that of the sword form Unfolding the Fan. He thought the Captain noticed, but he was too focused on the task at hand to be sure.

Looking over the large crewman that the Captain had chosen to be his opponent, Drak smiled softly. “You’re a tall drink of water, now aren’t you,” he said softly. Shifting his feet slightly to get more balanced, just as the Captain had taught him, the young channeler focused intently and assumed the void. All that made up his existence was both outside the Void and at the same time a part of it. It was an odd paradox, but now wasn’t the time for philosophy.

The suddenly raucous crowd of crewmen and women were a vaguely noticed buzzing that bounced along the edge of his awareness, as was his own anger at failing so miserably at the training session that the Captain had just put him through. At the same time, the feel of the deck beneath his toes, the slight breeze carrying with it the ever-present sea salt, the rough hewn, water-soaked pin in his hand, and the gigantic beast of a man holding a belaying pin just across the open space from him were all as much a part of him as his own skin.

He stood silently, waiting for the big man to make the first move. Drak didn’t know the giant’s name, but he’d seen him around enough to know that while he wasn’t very fast, his hands were like large lobster claws if they were to ever latch on to him. The man’s shoulders were like huge boulders of muscle, and his arms were thick enough to be used as a spare mast in a pinch. But all of that meant nothing if Drak used his training and his own physical abilities as he had been taught.

With the man’s first tensing of muscles, Drak exploded into motion. While the man-mountain was still raising his club over his head and letting out a guttural “RAWR!,” the young channeler fluidly replicated the sword form that he had practiced so many times, only this time with a lead-weighted belaying pin instead of his sword. Unfolding the Fan caught Gigantor right under the chin with a painful CRACK!

The huge man was already out on his feet, his broken teeth grinning like a discarded saw blade and his jaw a mess of shattered bone, blood from his mouth spurting like a crimson fountain. In one smooth motion, Drak pivoted on the balls of his feet, and followed his first strike with The Courtier Tips his Fan. The overhead blow connecting with a sickening SPLAT as the behemoth was already falling on his way to the deck like some giant oak tree after a woodsman’s axe had been at it.

In the depths of his mind, Drak heard himself think, Timber!, but the joke never made its way to his face before it skittered across the void and was lost.

He strode boldly forward, and heaved the man over onto his back, before dropping to one knee and balancing himself with one hand on the man’s chest. Lifting his right hand high, and with it the belaying pin that would finish his foe, he was halted as an iron grip caught his wrist and simultaneously a shout rang out.

“Enough!” he heard the Captain crisply announce, cutting through the din like a good knife through jam.

Jerking himself loose from Mr. Sweeper’s grasp, he stood, coolly replaced the belaying pin in its nook, and let go of the Void. The “fight” had lasted only a few heartbeats, but he was soaked in sweat from the adrenaline rush, despite the cold weather.

Drak smiled with genuine mirth at her retort. So, this is whom all the fuss is about. Interesting… he thought to himself as he looked her up and down, before winking and casually turning away from her to observe the rest of the crowd.

In his mind, his thoughts were racing, but his face was frozen in a slight, devilish grin. She is truly lovely, he admitted to himself. The innocence of her face is defied by the fact that she is here, and the way she moves with those delicious curves of hers. But it certainly makes for an intoxicating combination, more so than the finest wine. But more importantly, what’s between her ears is what concerns me.

Before he could ponder any further, she laid her hand on his arm and introduced herself. The boldness of her approach, and the fact that she instigated physical contact hinted that she found him appealing. Which was good, but to what purpose did she act? Everyone here was playing their own game, and she no doubt was, as well. Looking down into her eyes, he noticed a thoughtful, calculating mind behind her fluttering lashes.

Before he could answer her request, she ran a wine-stained finger down his lapel. As he opened his mouth to address her, he noticed the suddenly affected slurred speech and facial expression. Ah, so she has noticed the coat… that is good. That means she is not only intelligent and observant, but it should also put her off balance enough to nudge in the proper direction…

Continuing his motion without pausing, he looked down at the stain and responded. “Tis no matter, Eqwina…” he left a brief silence that almost shouted at the unspoken “Sedai” honorific that normally followed her name. “It is easily cleaned.”

Holding out a hand for her to accept, he introduced himself. “I am Drak. It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Seeing her continue the ruse of being very inebriated, he pulled his hand away and wiped it on his already dirty jacket, flashing a brief look of disappointment at her, he continued. “I seem to have caught you at a bad time… Perhaps we can speak again when you are more yourself.” Giving her a curt nod, he walked away, removing his coat and draping it over his arm as he did so.

Once he was outside the ball room, he smiled broadly. If that doesn’t catch her interest, then I don’t know what will. 

“Fair enough,” he responded, as he pushed her away and stepped out of the tub. Drying himself off with a towel, he spoke dismissively over his shoulder before leaving her alone with whatever violence she no doubt had in her heart.

“I shall call you Whore, then. Whore, I will be leaving as soon as I finish breakfast. I don’t know if you’ve ever entered the Blight, but travel there is very difficult, to put it mildly. There are a number of things you should have in order to give yourself a chance at surviving such a perilous journey. Aside from me, of course.”

He quickly gave her a short list of essentials, though he didn’t bother to explain any of them. “Also, you would probably find it easier going if you had a spare horse to carry everything on. But be quick about it, because you know how much I’d hate to leave such a fine and trustworthy companion behind.”

Saying his peace, he exited the bath room with a chuckle and returned to his bedroom.

It didn’t take long to gather his things, and within a few minutes he was downstairs eating a hearty, if not especially savory, breakfast. No doubt, Whore was still thinking of ways she would kill him when she finally got what she wanted, but he paid that little mind. Death was as inevitable as the sunrise, and he feared it just as little. He would need to keep an eye on her, without a doubt, but once they were into the Blight proper, if she gave him too much headache and not enough… well, it would be easy to part ways. Until then, he would enjoy what he could, deal with what he must, and ponder on the unknowable.

That, or just talk to his horse.

jeez!

i disappear and the Aiel die... what gives?  :P

Cor awakened to the sound of birds singing and the soft murmur of Dilora Fashelle as she snuggled against him.

The last day and night had been quite an adventure for the young Aiel. Looking down at the lovely peddler as she slept, he couldn’t help but smile. Her invitation had been quite a surprise, but her charms were not only lovely to look at, they were also very enjoyable to share. She was both playfully innocent and wickedly naughty, and the night had passed with a good deal of enthusiasm from both of them.Sliding out from under the arm and the leg that she had draped over him, he quickly pulled on his still-damp breeches and shirt and silently left the cave without waking her.

It was a morning that the gleeman often told about. After the torrential downpour of the night before, the brilliantly blue sky held just a scattering of puffy white clouds, looking like algode blossoms that were somehow stuck way up in the heavens. The gentle murmuring of the creek in the distance provided a rhythmic counterpoint to the lilting music of the songbirds twittering in the treetops.

He had the notion to make her breakfast, and on such a beautiful morning as this it would surely be a moment that he would hold in his mind forever. He still couldn’t believe he had lain with a wetlander, but his reflections of the night’s passions kept the smile on his face. He didn’t regret it for an instant!

It didn’t take long for him to scare up a rabbit. They were very active in the early morning hours, and he also happened to find a large batch of blue-almost-black berries that a bear had been devouring, at least according to the signs on the ground. Nibbling on one to see if it was safe, the sweet flavor burst onto his tongue. It was delicious! He gathered a large pile of the berries, removing his shirt to carry them in, and returned to the campsite.

By the time the lovely peddler awakened and walked out into the day, looking radiant despite the mussed hair and the sleepy expression on her face, he had the savory scent of fire-broiled rabbit in the air and a slight smear of blackberries on his face. He had only eaten a few… honest.

Cor smiled at the question. He considered his response for several moments as he savored the humid heat of the sweat tent, scraping the staera slowly over his body and enjoying the view of Caliendrha’s lithe, enticing body, as well.

“I have been to the Wetlands,” Cor began cautiously, “but I wouldn’t say I know what it is like there. The people are very different for the most part, and don’t see things as we do… I met some nice folks while I was there, but overall, the wetlanders are a mystery to me.”

Pausing, he crossed his legs and propped his jaw onto his fist as he looked into the Maiden’s eyes and thought on what he wanted to say. “But the land there… it is as beautiful as you can imagine. And water flows without a care.”

He began telling her of the mountains on the far side of the Dragonwall that were purple in the distance, and often were wreathed with clouds. He spoke of trees so tall he could hardly see their tops, even if he craned his neck up to the sky. Like great pillars of wood that held up the heavens, they were, and many were bigger around than ten men could encircle while holding hands. He told of the vast prairies of grass, that stretched out like a sky of green underfoot, that rolled on and on in the distance. And he spoke of the water, always the water.

It was everywhere. In pools, in creeks and streams and little babbling brooks. In rivers so wide, sometimes you could barely make out the land on the far side. In a vast ocean they called it, that was salted and poison to drink and so far it was said no one had ever crossed it. Of the water that even fell from the sky.

His throat grew dry as he recounted the breathtaking sights he had witnessed, but it seemed she drank in every word. When the soreness in his throat caused him to stop, he looked at her with a sheepish grin, suddenly embarrassed for having gone on so long.

“I am sorry,” he added with a blush. “The Threefold Land will always be home, but the beauty in the wetlands will take your breath away.”

His first thought was to look for another way out. But from his vantage point, no doors were visible.

The great vaulted chamber they were trapped in drank up the meager light of his lamp like sand in the Threefold Land soaked up spilled water. His lamp did offer sufficient light to reveal that the dome was enormous though, but what he saw wasn’t pleasant.

The vastness of such architecture amazed him, but the purpose of this room was revealed by the vicious looking instruments hanging from the walls. One didn’t have to use much imagination to glean that the devices weren’t for making people happy, and it kept his mind focused on things other than the genius behind such a colossal work of stone. He was focused solely on learning what he was dealing with in order to get out of here. Clothed in shadows as it was, the room seemed to whisper menacingly from just beyond the edge of the lamplight, the demons of past acts still lingering to haunt their evil domain. This was certainly not a place where he would want to spend his free time.

Intent on the room as he was, he didn’t notice that Shaneevae el’Adware was touching his body in a familiar way. Nor did he notice that his arm had wrapped itself around her protectively. As his eyes searched for more threats and his mind quested for a way out, he was unaware of the soft body his arm was caressing.

If he had noticed, one of two things would have happened. He would have been terribly embarrassed over so much physical contact in public, or he would have realized that they weren’t in public and the allure of such a lovely body would have distracted him from most everything else. The current situation deprived him of that emotional context, however, and his concentration was only broken by her whisper in his ear.

Looking down into her eyes, he winked mischievously and laughed out loud to taunt the evil demons that lived in this place.

“Best we don’t intend to stay here, then.” Stepping boldly forward as was always his way, Cor asked, “You don’t happen to see a door, do you?” Laughing once again at the look she gave him, they began the arduous task of finding a way out of this mess they had fallen into.

OOC: sorry for the delay in my response, mate. could you maybe re-post your last post after this one?  ::)

Cor walked slowly towards the man in the distance. The dark shadows from the moonlight playing in the night prevented him from getting a clear look at the man’s face, but instinctively the Aiel knew something was awry.

Tucking his book into his pack without taking his eyes off the man, the young Aiel warrior had a sudden hunch that his boring evening was about to change. He’s going to run. I know it, he thought to himself as he saw the man’s quick look around and his posture stiffen.

He ran.

With a smile that was bright enough to light up the darkness even without the moonlight, Cor flew after him. Only a person with a guilty heart would have run, so Cor would catch him and see what he could learn from this nighttime sneak. Besides, a good run was always welcome. The idea that he might wake from the dream at any moment because of the uncertainty of the situation was understood, but the Threefold Land had killed all the fearful Aiel long ago. There was no need to worry. What would come, would come, and for now he had the chase!

The fleeing prowler ducked into a narrow street, and Cor followed hot on his heels. He could hear the man’s rapid footsteps in the otherwise silent night here where no other people tarried at such a late hour. Looking ahead, the Aiel saw no way out of the alley unless there was an unlocked door or some other escape route that wasn’t visible from his vantage point. If that were true, this would be a short run.

Pulling his veil across his face as a precaution, he pursued the man into the darkness.

OOC: sorry it took so long for me to get a response up.

For the first time all day, Mat wasn’t the least bit nervous. As he climbed the long hill to the fieldhouse to get dressed for football practice, he knew exactly what to expect. And he was confident that he’d be up to the challenge.

Throughout his first day, he’d been a bit reticent, just trying to check things out before he became too involved. As his grandpa always said, “Before I dive in the creek, I want to know how deep it is.” Mat figured that was real good advice, so as he’d searched out his classes in the giant labyrinth that was his new school, and sat through the various lectures, he’d had to overcome a little nervous tension. But now, with football practice so close to hand, his anxiety faded away. He knew that he’d have to prove himself, and it was likely that whoever was the big dog on the team would challenge him since he was the “new guy,” but here he would be able to cut loose. Grinning devilishly, he couldn’t wait to get started.

Even with his thoughts on the upcoming practice, Mat couldn’t help but notice the facilities as he made the trek up the hill. They were incredible! “It’s almost like a college campus,” he said out loud, though no one else was around to hear him. The field looked to be a verdant carpet of lush green grass, and the top-of-the-line weight room was like nothing he had ever seen. It was nothing like the pit that he had played on at BTW. Wow! was all he could think of.

Most of the locker room had cleared out by the time he walked in, but it didn’t take him long to find his name taped over “his” locker. He had talked to the coach over the phone and knew that today was just shorts, shoulder pads, and helmet. Full pads wouldn’t be worn until after try-outs for first time players, which came in a few days. Everything is so different here, he thought as he tied his cleats. Especially how much they stress the “school” part of school. Laughing to himself at the thought, he shoved his shoulder pads into his practice jersey before pulling them over his head. At his old school, they only attended the minimum number of days required by the state. It was normal to have a month’s worth of practices before the first day of class, but here school started much earlier, and instead of having a game the first week, it wouldn’t come for at least a month. It was cool, but it definitely would take some getting used to.

He jogged onto the field with his helmet in his hand just as the coach called everyone together to get started with calisthenics. As he went through the motions of the various drills, Mat scanned the team looking to get an idea of what his teammates were like. There were certainly some big ol’ boys, and it was easy to spot the starting quarterback. I wonder if they all go to peacock school, the way they preen, he thought to himself with a smile. Every high school quarterback he’d ever known thought he was God’s gift to the world. Sometimes, they were actually that good. Sometimes they were…

The head coach walked up to him as he was on the ground stretching. “You the running back I’ve heard so much about?” Looking up into the burly face of his new coach, Mat responded with a cheerful, “I don’t know, coach. I am a running back, though.”

Laughing and hiking up his shorts over his very large belly, the coach snorted, and replied gruffly, “You’ll be on defense today until I can get you a playbook. It’ll let me see what you’re made of, at least, and maybe let you get a feel for how our offense looks. Think you can handle that?” A simple “yes sir” sufficed, and Coach blew his whistle. “Alright! Let’s get started!”

The first half hour of practice went smoothly, they mostly just ran a lot. But it was when the coach said, “Offense line up! Let’s get a defense over here!” that Mat got excited. He stood on the sidelines as he watched the starting offense, at least they were the preliminary starters, line up and run some basic plays against the defense. The sounds of shoulder pads hitting made the practice finally seem real to him. And, of course, the Abercrombie & Fitch model playing quarterback bitching at his offensive line. Seems like we’ve got ourselves a prima donna here, Mat thought as the quarterback laced into yet another lineman for no reason at all.

Spying Mouse sitting in the stands, Mat walked over to the water cooler so he could talk to him. “You’re a little early, aren’t you Mouse?” he teased. “The first game’s not for another month.”

Damon laughed, but before he could answer, Mat asked him, “Who is that guy?” 

“Who, the quarterback? Matthew Connolly… the Third,” he added with an odd blend of animosity and awe, as if the quarterback was some sort of hateful campus god.

“Adamson!” his coach yelled in what was apparently his normal voice, snapping Mat out of his reverie, “Don’t be shy. Get in there, son!”

Slamming his helmet back on, Mat quickly said, “If you like football so much Mouse, why don’t you try out for the team?” before sprinting onto the field where he lined up on defense at cornerback.

The offense ran a fake hand off - quarterback sweep toward his side on the first play Mat was on the field. He didn’t know if Mr. the Third didn’t think he was fast enough to get there, or he just didn’t see him, but either way Mat didn’t care. Mat crashed down from the outside and hit the quarterback with a resounding CRACK and the ball went flying as the Third was crushed.

The field reverberated with an awe-struck “Ooooh…” at the big-time hit.

Standing astride the prone prima donna as the coaches’ whistles blew, Mat offered him a hand up and said, “I’m Mat. It’s nice to meet you.”

He saw the guy coming to his table, and he wondered what was in store. He doesn’t look like he wants to start any trouble, Mathurin thought to himself around a mouthful of pizza. It was second nature by now for him to be careful of any unsolicited approaches by strangers. His time at his Booker T. Washington High School had proven that. But things here were much different, mainly because pretty much everyone was white, too. Not to say there weren’t jerks here, but there wasn’t nearly as much violence directed at him. Which as far as he could tell was a good thing.

The little guy plopped down across the table from him, and introduced himself with a joke. The smile on his face showed he was only teasing, and that was something Mathurin could appreciate. He enjoyed teasing a lot, as well.

“Tex is it?” he answered with a laugh, after he swallowed his bite of pizza. “I’ll have you know, I’m originally from Colorado. Besides, I thought smurfs were supposed to be blue.” Chuckling at the simple joke about Damon’s small stature, Mathurin purposefully looked his new acquaintance over thoroughly before he went on. “Well, with that hair color I guess a better name would be Mouse. I shall call you Mouse from now on.”

Wiping his heavily callused hand off on his jeans, he stuck it out across the table toward Damon and introduced himself, officially. “Mouse, I’m Mathurin. My friends call me Mat. Or Tex, I suppose.” Grinning like a jackass eating saw briars, he bit off another large chunk of pizza and talked around it. “Yeah, it’s my first day. Anything in particular you think I should know?”

It seems simple, Drak thought to himself as he enjoyed the company of the Attack Leader. Keep my nose clean, follow orders, and don’t do anything that will annoy the powers that be. Arath seems to be a highly competent, and confident man. And surprisingly humble, considering the duties and difficulties that his title requires of him.

The newest member of the Farm’s training system found himself liking his commander, which took him completely by surprise. As they walked toward the practice grounds, Drak was quietly introspective as he looked over the Farm and the goings on of its inhabitants. He saw many things, but his focus was on the upcoming challenge of pretending to be a new channeler.

I can’t pick things up too quickly, or I’ll stand out too much. It is better to be too slow at first, than to be too fast. Fumbling around is the rule of the day. I must be focused, of course, but I can’t be too successful. And numerous mistakes would probably be the best thing. Arath has a sharp mind, and if I’m not careful, he will be suspicious of me. Although, come to think of it, he’s probably suspicious of every new man who walks through the gates. I would be if the situations were reversed. His position is one of constant peril, as I am sure he is aware.

Pausing from his reverie, Drak came up short as another thought suddenly went through his head. Looking around, he asked, “Where did they take my horse? And my belongings? I’d hate to lose everything on my first day.” Laughing at himself, he returned to walking alongside Arath as they continued their stroll, the Asha’man assuring him that his things would be at his temporary lodgings and his horse would be in the stables.

That was good, thought Drak to himself. I’ve probably appeared too composed up to this point, and a bit of confusion probably doesn’t hurt. It will be interesting to see how they go about training their initiates, though. And I wonder about this other man Arath has taken under his wing… but first things first. Focus on the task at hand, or you’ll trip over your feet and nothing will come of your plans but a big pile of nothing.

Firming his jaws, Drak walked deeper into the Black Tower grounds, and one step closer to where he wanted to go.

Drak smiled. He was genuinely amused by her attitude, and he certainly approved of the little show she was putting on for him. He admired those who had courage and mental toughness, and he admired women with the lovely curves before and behind that she presented to him so wantonly. Apparently, she was lacking in none of those areas. However, he had no intention of playing the game by her rules.

“I am not surprised,” he admitted truthfully, “that you have decided to join me. You have much to gain, so it was an easy decision. However, you need to understand something quite plainly. You are only alive this morning on my whim. You will only be traveling with me on my whim. I owe you nothing. In fact, many would think I’m foolish for letting you live. I hope I am not mistaken in doing so.”

Pausing, he let the message hit home. I hope I don’t have to make it more clear than that. I do hate slow learners, he thought to himself before he continued. “You promised to be useful to me, and, while your services aren’t essential, they are certainly entertaining. However, you have your work cut out for you. It is a long journey between here and there…”

Sighing relaxedly in the steaming-hot bath water, he reached a hand out to cup her tender flesh. She needed no further invitation, and immediately she began to make his bath even more enjoyable.

After just a few moments, he thought of something and pulled her head away from his body. “What shall I call you? Your real name or another, it makes little difference to me as long as you answer to it. And as long as we understand each other, you may call me Drak. If you get above yourself… well, there’s no need for that, is there? You may continue.”

Her head lowered again with a wickedly delightful smile as she bent and began kissing his body tenderly. He was under no false impressions. She would kill him if she thought it prudent. He understood that clearly. But two could play at that game, and he had already proven who was the better player.

On this fine morning Drak dressed in more practical apparel, though still of the finest quality. His pants were of a dark, forest green, as was his coat, and his shirt was a pale green linen, very comfortable and light. His black, wide-brimmed hat matched his belt and the knee-high, soft leather boots that his trousers were tucked into. He didn’t bother buckling on his sword belt today, but rather carried his sword in its sheath until he tucked it alongside his seat in the carriage that his serving man had rented for him to use.

He arrived promptly on time, while his men rode ahead to make sure there were no unwelcome surprises, as well as to make ready the preparations for his breakfast and luncheon. His serving man, Paitr was an excellent cook and had assured him that a feast of delightfully tasteful, yet light and sensual, foods would be awaiting him and his lovely companion. Drak had no doubt it would surpass his expectations.  Paitr was an odd bird, but he wasn’t one for boasting.

Drak ignored the guards completely as he waited for his warrior maiden to arrive, and he had eyes only for her as Zoe walked out of the Fortress of Light. She wore a plain yellow dress, but it hugged her curves nicely, and its plainness served only to highlight her lovely features. She looked radiant, as well as very happy to see him.

Drak laughed along with her at the greeting and ushered her to the carriage that he had acquired for them for the day. “Until recently I’ve not come much at all,” he responded with a wide grin. “But it seems of late, I’ve been here quite a lot.” The simple jest and compliment brought a rosy blush to her cheeks, the glow as lovely as the morning.

The carriage itself was small, comfortable, and intimate, and an excellent example of fine workmanship. The black gelding that pulled their transport was very sleek, and his high-stepping gait was pleasing to the eye. The clip clop of its hooves on the road as they left the city was soothing, and provided a calm rhythm as Drak listened to Zoe make small talk, the thrill of the morning escapade evident in the excitement of her mood. He couldn’t help but smile himself. He was already enjoying the day, and she hadn’t yet removed a single stitch of clothing!

Her eyes grew wide when he turned off the main thoroughfare and directed the carriage through an apple orchard. “The mystery deepens!” he quipped, winking at her mischievously.

It didn’t take long before they came to the spot he had picked for them, though. On the top of a large, gently sloping hill under the low-hanging limbs of a giant oak tree, it was an idyllic locale. The quietly bubbling spring that began nearby only added to the beautiful serenity, and a soft breeze carried the hint of the apple blossoms in the distance.

In the shade under the great oak, a large quilt had been spread out for them, complete with numerous dishes in ornate silverwork and a trio of wines for their enjoyment. He was eager to see what Paitr had in store, but by the light in Zoe’s eyes, she was even more excited. He doubted that she had a chance to make many outings such as this with her duties and training, so it pleased him all the more to give her such joy.

And to think, the day had barely even started!