Sereth carefully studied Tai'Dashan, the man seemingly lost in thought. Hmm, now what do I make of this? The asha'man prepared to slam a shield into place, knowing that he could overpower the other man if it came down to it. Then all four of his boulders exploded, setting him back on his heels. I wouldn't have had a chance...

The seats formed, and Sereth sat, weaving a small bit of air to make his seat a bit softer, and selected the darker stones for use. He began sorting them with the power, setting them down one by one, a grin on his face as he did so. "Oh, really? Those are by far the least popular things to talk about in this desolate place! And I've put so much thought into it..." He pushed his chair a bit closer to the table, before releasing the source. He hardly felt that twinge of regret anymore, excepting it as just another horrid thing he'd have to deal with. There were so very many now...

He closed his eyes, steadying his mind, knowing where those thoughts were leading. He hoped it came off as he was simply organizing his thoughts, no sense in making Tai think him mad, or at least not madder than he was in the first place. "Well, the taint. You of course know that The Dragon and his one hundred companions are responsible for tainting the male half of the true source. Of course he very likely saved the wheel at the same time, but that has no bearing on this theory."

He made his first move on the stones board, taking a safe route to begin, watching Tai's reaction, trying to get every piece of information he could out of the man. "This taint effects us in two ways, it rots our bodies, assuming we survive long enough we will eventually fall apart into a blackened heap of what people can only assume was once a man. This I'd call the worse of the two effects, but many would disagree. The other, of course, is madness." His eyes left the stones board, casually glancing at the dedicated as he spoke that word.

"It is what tends to affect us first, and once signs are shown, we are required to put that person down. Though personally, I've always simply wanted to shield them and have a nice chat with a truly insane man. You see my old philosophy teacher I learned was a male channeler, and I'd love to find out if this disease was the cause of his genius." He scratched the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed by the admission, and knowing he must sound like a raving lunatic.

His hands methodically moved the stones pieces, only paying the game half a mind. He had played so very many games in his short life that it had become second nature to him. Though in truth, he had only ever beaten his teacher once, in the last game they ever played. Just before the crazy old man had tested him for the ability to channel. "Now, I have always wondered why this happens. I know the simple answer is it is allowing the dark one's to touch us, but I feel it is slightly more complex than that. Why? Simple, dreadlords would be touched more directly by him than us, yet they seem sane." He laughed, realizing what he just said, "Or at least not driven mad by the power. Now, I am a bit thirsty."

He always gave warning before embracing the source; he was never quite sure how another man would take it. He wove two earthen cups, and filled them with water. After floating one over to his friend, he promptly released the source, and took a sip. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Thinking of the dark one not as evil, but as chaos in our world of order, I have a theory on how the taint affects us. We fill our bodies with Saidin, the taint, or pure chaos as I'd call it, is drawn into our bodies."

"Our minds, used to thinking logically, no matter how logical any one person may seem, are introduced to this chaos. Of course it rejects it, but as more and more is drawn in, it would seem the chaos overwhelms the order in our minds, and gradually starts to replace it. Giving us hallucinations, letting us hear voices that aren't there, or simply being stark mad to anyone else who watches us. The same can be said of our bodies of course, the order in us is disrupted, and we begin to die. Both slowly and horrifically, and us unable to stop it on the grounds that even tainted Saidin is so beautiful not a one of us could live without it."

Sereth pulled the cup to his lips, taking a deep swallow and setting it down. He looked up at Tai, looking almost embarrassed. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to rant. It is just a habit of mine, back home I got quite accustomed to voicing my thoughts, and I'm afraid not even all the time I've spent here has erased that habit." His face reddened as he realized he was doing it again, and he scratched the back of his neck. "So, your thoughts? Think I'm on to something, or just, pardon the pun, a raving lunatic?"

Sereth remembered the man at around the same time he did. He was always pushing himself. His grin only widened. "Hello Tai, well, I was thinking I'd create some rocks and float them around to work on your accuracy with either sword of power. Maybe test your defensive abilities with some weaves of my own- don't worry though, I won't injure you badly, and will heal you afterwards." He thought back to watching Tai'Daishan screaming as he drew on the source. "Or maybe I could help you work at your higher output; I saw you screaming and was quite concerned I'd have to shield you. Men with your..." he searched for the proper word, "Zeal are rare. It'd be a shame to lose you to the will of the power, or, well, to anything." He reached his hand behind his head and scratched his neck; a habit of his when he realized he was rambling.

Sereth embraced the source, scooping up five large rocks and rotating them around Tai'Daishan in a lazy circle. "So, what will it be?" A glint came into Sereth's eyes, "Of course, we could always just talk. I'm afraid there is a disturbing lack of intellectuals willing to blather on about anything besides how to make a bigger boom with less power. Its quite disappointing really." Sereth was happy to simply be talking to someone, Shienar having thoroughly shaken the young Asha'man. Perhaps this would be a chance to heal, scab over the nightmares he had of blue fire...

Sereth was walking through the forest, humming a children's song, his hands in his long black coat. It was a cold day, not that he minded. Hot or cold made little difference to him; he knew he could ward off either with Saidin if he desired, but not today. The nipping of the cold distracted him, which helped him think. It helped keep his mind from wandering... Lances of lightning, falling, shredding black coats...

Sereth's thoughts were blessedly interrupted when he stumbled upon a boy using Saidin, and stopped to watch for a moment. He was out in the middle of nowhere, tying off weaves that made his little clearing silent, and alerted him to the presence of others. Sereth's eyebrows rose as the dedicated through back his head, obviously screaming. The Asha'man almost reached for the source right now, feeling the strain the man had with holding Saidin. He is pushing himself... harder than even the farm demands... Why?

Eyes were fixed upon the raising stones, wrapped in air. Watching, Sereth had his answer. He is one of those who has embraced being a weapon, or so it seems. He shook his head, unsure how to feel about that. On one hand, they were weapons, and accepting that was important, still, it always saddened him to see human life lowered to such a base level. Kill or be killed. Unfortunately, he couldn't deny the truth of that statement any longer. He had seen what the shadow could do. Indigo flames... He shook his head, he was getting good at ignoring the memories, not quite ready to accept the truth of what had happened.

The stones demolished, the asha'man stepped forward, embracing a trickle of the source, and extended a thin tendril of spirit towards the barrier, no sense in catching a man loaded with Saidin off guard. This done, he let go of the source and stepped inside the ward, a smile on his face. "Hello, training hard dedicated? If you want, I could help out." His eyes went down to the man's sword, "of course you'd probably cut me to ribbons with that thing, assuming it ever came down to that." He didn't laugh, swordplay was good for the men, Sereth just never took it up himself. He trained himself to react with the power first, and wanted to keep it that way. His mind was faster than his hands, after all.

More importantly, his mind was faster than even a Myrddraall. A fact that had saved his life.

Heh, I've been a bio checker a few times, never come across that before..

Anyways, the NSW is going to be put on the ranch. For darkfriend training purposes, and to help out where needed. Not to mention an NSW there would add another dimension to ye ol' Rashad Ranch story wise, and give more RP opportunities there.

But yeah, as far as I can tell, mostly training.  ;)

Name: Dalek Kasavyn

Username: N/A (NSW)

Subgroup/Guild: Darkfriends

Age: 29

Country of Origin: Ghealdan

Physical Description:

Dalek stands at 5 ft 5, and weighs roughly 140 pounds. He has light brown hair and hazel eyes, and going by his looks one wouldn't notice any distinguishing traits to speak of. Though the trip from Ghealdan to Cairhien has built some additional muscle, most of it is still just for show as he still prefers to flee rather than fight.

Personality:

Dalek is a sore loser. He thrives to be the best, but found a lack of talent and potential barring his way. Rather than train and get better, he'd prefer to take out those better than him in order to jump up the ranks, something the Darkfriends only seemed to encourage. A born pessimist, he has a negative image of those around him, often emphasizing their weaknesses to himself to boost his own self-esteem. This is also why he prefers to pull rank and order people around rather than do anything himself; he got to this rank, and by the Great Lord he'd order people around as he'd see fit! Though he seems to fit the stereotypical image of a Darkfriend, watching and plotting evil huddled in the shadows, he either doesn't know or doesn't care what people think about him.

Quote:

History:

Dalek was born as the middle brother in a family of three. From his birth on out, he had been continually outdone in everything, never really excelling at something. In terms of strength, his older brother outdid him. In terms of speed and agility, his younger brother always had the upper hand. But it didn't stop there, almost anything he did was fated to be only average at best compared to others.

Disappointment changed into jealousy, before moving on to hatred and ultimately contempt. Soon, his darker moods were getting the upper hand, and he was estranging more and more from his family and friends. Not that he missed them, of course, they were living reminders of his inability to be good in anything, proof of lacking a way to be better than them. Soon after his fifteenth birthday, he ran away from home. If he was missed, Dalek never noticed it.

He was eventually found and taken in by a Darkfriend circle, and the boy recognized them as kindred spirits due to the way they hid their activities from the outside world much like he pulled back into his own little world every time he lost at something. Soon, he was ordered to make his first kill, and as the body cooled on the cold stone he watched the blood flow down the blade and onto his hand, feeling warm to the touch.

And then, he had it. It was so simple, really. If there were so many people outdoing him, he would simply assassinate them all to become the best by a simple process of elimination. Due to his zeal, his star in the circle quickly rose and he was made head of the circle after the old head had had an unfortunate meeting with a dagger. Though Dalek's hand in this was never proven, he was a capable leader though a bit odd at times.

Still, the occasionally random targets eventually brought the local town militia down upon them. Though he managed to take an eye from the first guard that rushed into the room, they were too quickly overwhelmed for him to finish her off and he was forced to flee. Of his circle, he was the only one that had survived, and he was forced to start rebuilding his network once more when word reached him of a ranch somewhere that was looking to hire new hands after having suffered a Whitecloak attack.

Given that he needed a new place to lie low for a while -- the guards in Ghealdan were passing along his picture throughout the country, it seemed -- he started on the long journey northeast through Andor and into Cairhien. It took a bit longer than it should have for passing north of Tar Valon. While traveling through the city itself would definitely have been faster, there were limits to the risks he wanted to place himself at, and being recognized meant an easy catch with the witches everywhere. Nevertheless, he managed to reach Fairhaven, contacting the local Darkfriend circle and joining them, only to move on to the Rashad Ranch later on.

Yeah, I'm not sure I can go in and change that one without Liitha's okay without some proof of the reqs being done. I'll ask her about it when she gets back.

Once again, Serien found herself elbow deep in a pot, scrubbing for all that she was worth. She held mixed feelings about this, on one hand it felt like demeaning work for someone who would one day help run the world. On the otherhand, it reminded her of home and the mother she missed terribly. Either way, she knew she’d be scrubbing pots for a long time.

No one told her how long it took to gain the shawl, or the low chances of actually attaining that elusive rank. She would though, she knew she would. She looked around, dying to have someone to talk to, and found a fairly tall novice with locks the color of honey and pale skin just a bit further down. Serien scooted closer and smiled at the girl, “You’d think these pots would be paper thin after all the times we wash them.” She let a chuckle slip through her lips, looking at the girl to see if she’d be rejected, which happened far more often than she’d like to admit, or accepted and could start up idle chatter.

By that of course she meant complain about being a novice, but that wasn’t the point.

Serien blinked, she had expected some sort of reaction from the green sister, but received none. The young woman couldn’t quite figure out what she thought of that, but decided that it probably worked in her favor. At least this time her mouth hadn’t stirred up any dust…

She thought hard about Rasheta’s offer, and back to her meeting with the mistress of novices.  She had informed her of quite a bit, but had been light in most areas, probably figuring that the Ebou Dari would figure out most things on her own, or even learn from her mentor. “Thank you Rasheta Sedai that is a very generous offer.” She saw every novice and accepted scuttling to be as polite as possible to the full sisters; even others who wore the shawl spoke very politely. That would take some getting used to for the tavern raised girl.

“I have heard snippets of the different Ajahs that the full ranked Aes Sedai are divided into. I know the green sisters are the battle ajah, and the yellow the healers. Other than that though, I couldn’t catch much. I was um,” she searched for a proper word for panting after running through the halls, trying not to lag behind a long legged yellow sister. “A bit distraught at the time it was being explained to me. Could you please explain the ajahs to me?”

Serien was escorted through the tower to the green ajah quarters, taking in the sights of this part of the tower as she followed the Accepted. She was proud of herself, she was learning the ropes quickly. Her eyes fell to her own dress, plain white, labeling her as a Novice. She chuckled to herself, like I even deserve that title! The Accepted eyed her coldly, the only acknowledgment that she had from the older girl. Serien decided she didn't much care for her, but that was minor. She doubted she'd see the woman again.

At the Aes Sedai's dismissal of the Accepted, Serien let a slight chuckle escape her, and curtsied low to the full sister, before doing as she was told and sitting. "Well Rashete Sedai, there isn't all that much to tell... My name is Serien Miarade of Ebou Dar. My mother owns a successful inn there, where I waited tables." She tried to recall what she heard of the woman's Ajah. What was it called... The Battle Ajah? She decided to take a chance, "That and got into scruffs with the other girls." She smiled, looking up at the woman, waiting on her response to that, a blossom of fear growing as she feared she shouldn't have admitted her... habits in front of such a dignified woman. After all, they were the battle ajah, not the brawling ajah... She thought with a suppressed sigh that this would be the first of many times her large mouth would get her into trouble..

Alright, I'll get it up, probably meet in the places o' the food, or maybe cleaning place o' the food making. I'll think of something. (I write this 10 minutes before going to lunch..)

Bleh, is there anyway to set up a temporary WS since we are kind of dead ended here? >_> Say, assign a WS to my char, and then if Ata likes it we're good when she gets back, if not, we change it?

Lol, strength vs. speed, sounds like it'd be fun. Though I can't get my WS until our dearest DL comes back lol, so I'd say open combat is a bit out of the question at the moment. Maybe get into soem mischeif with some trollocs? Get treed by a worm, then have to fight off the tree... Gotta love the blight.  :D

((Sorry for leaving in the beginning, had some problems to keep me away))

Sereth had been there when it began, within the city, fighting with a knot of about 15 black coats, only two others wore the dragon on their lapel, the rest an even mix of soldiers and dedicated. When they entered the city, Sereth’s hardened mind sensed something amiss. The people weren’t in the streets, where was everyone? He wrote it off as some borderland tactic, and continued. Then he felt a huge surge of Saidin, and he knew that he and the men in his group had fallen into a deadly trap. He immediately yelled, “Scatter!” He used large power tactics, nothing compared to this, but he knew what he’d do. Blast the groups, pick of the stragglers as they appeared.

The men obeyed, immediately spreading to the winds, but not fast enough. A group of two soldiers and one of his fellow asha’man were consumed by a pillar of blue fire. Sereth was immediately awed by the attack, looking at the weave that formed it… seeing gaps where there shouldn’t have been. Circles… His mind raced to his conversations with the negotiator, asking about the linking of men and women, and achieving wonderful things for the good of the people.  This though… this was horrible. He was almost sickened at the idea of linking now, the devastation he could accomplish with his own horde of Saidin just barely tolerable. How can we beat this…

The survivors ran off in groups of three, each running in a cardinal direction, his group holding a soldier and dedicated. They blasted shadowspawn as they came across them, leaping out of buildings, attacking form the shadows. He felt as much as saw the devastation born from the lightning and indigo infernos. His hardened void shattered, leaving him with a tentative grip on the normal, knowing that to lose Saidin was death. Some part of his mind knew that he would forever associate that color with death. That was, assuming he got out of this hell hole. They ran into another group of channelers, hard pressed against the shadowspawn. Sereth recognized the man in the lead as Krissian, and began weaving his destruction on the shadowspawn, summoning lightning from the sky, and throwing his fireballs with a hint of earth to harden them.

He was working his way to the side, when he saw a black coated man turn into a woman. He almost lost the void right then, but held on barely, destroying a group of 5 trollocs with a single fireball. He saw his leader’s heart explode, and the normally passive Asha’man roared, promising death to the vile woman who dared such trickery against the Black Tower!  He began weaving air razors to take off her head, but had to redirect the flow to save a soldiers head from a Myrddraall’s black Thakan’dar blade. He saw another asha’man chase after him, and could only assume the girl would pay for her insolence.

He rounded up a group of the survivors, now numbering only 4 of the huge group which had stood beside the Attack Leader, and rushed them into a building. He prayed that the group that went off with the other Asha'man survived, having no time to search for them. He sensed a small amount of Saidin nearby, and looked in the direction, a one eyed man stared at him, and Sereth threw a fireball instinctively, grunting as he felt it cut, and ducked into a building. He ordered them to throw up earthen walls, as he wove two gateways, having to draw fully upon the source to do so. Sereth managing only two thin lines barely wide enough for a man to fit in sideways. “Injured, back to the farm. Those who can fight, with me.” He  waited for the men to go through the gateways, before leaping through to the fortification and letting the weaves go. He marched up to where he thought the Storm Leader would be, and saw him holding the hilt of his sword with a strangle hold. When the order for Asha’man to come with him came, he got into line without hesitation. He had seen far too many die today; he’d make the shadow pay a hundred times that in the blood of shadowspawn.

But he knew he’d never forget those blue flames…

---

Arcon Dadread was having fun, moving among the city, holding the source and launching attack after attack at the pockets of these black coated fools, his enemy to overwhelmed to locate the channeler and destroy him, or at least tried. He had moved from the armies of shadowspawn to the city, knowing the landscape out here better, and having a far better idea of inner city tactics than he had learned from books of army battles. He was tempted to throw his lot in with his Chosen, but refrained, thinking his power would do nothing to bolster such a fearsome weapon of the shadow.

He watched as Terra dropped her disguise, located high on a building, flow after flow cut by that man with the decorated coat. He laughed out loud as she blasted the man point blank in the chest with Saidar. Good girl… Terra, you were a wise investment… Arcon made his way down to ground level, working his way through the allies, chasing a pocket of five asha’man who had survived the killing ground. As he was about to strike, an Andorian spotted him, and threw an incredibly powerful fireball his way, and Arcon cut it as the man slipped into the building. So confident you’d win Asha’man! Hah It was a nice break from the subterfuge that he normally worked, his blood line and mask of mirrors serving him well.

He chased the man, watching the stone walls go up, and feeling a large amount of Saidin being worked within. Arcon drew fully on the source, planning on bursting through with a pillar of fire, and as he released the weave, he felt the power die within. Peaking inside, he was disappointed to find no bodies. Gateways… He cursed, and went to regroup with the Chosen’s circle, watching as pillars of blue flame consumed the last of the Asha’man…

It was a glorious day for the Great Lord of the Dark.

Alright, I think I was gone for way to long for Answering the Call, which blows, as the original idea was mine... But alas, that really doesn't matter at the moment.

The point is, I have a low skill, high power, philosopher Asha'man who if we play with time a bit, just got back from his first major battle, and is bound to be shaken up. Or, we could go pre AtC, and do something, don't care, I'm bored and desperate for RP!  :P

So, anyone need help with any reqs? Just want to have a ball? I'm open to ideas.

Alright boys and girls, I got a new character that I am dying to play, my new fade Dhjorn, and was wondering if anyone wanted to play? I can't get my WS until Liitha gets back, but that leaves an optional module and a 'learn how crappy you are' thread.  :D

So, any PCs out there who could logically meet up with a fadeling? Or someone want to NSW something up? Higher level fades just sound like fun..

Hmm, I think I just missed someone else requesting this thread...but yeah, I need to get this req done for my new novice (trying to get out of this rank as fast as I can!) So, anyone else need this req?  :)

Serien followed behind the yellow sister as she set a quick pace through the White Tower, not giving the young Ebou Dari woman a chance to take in the breath taking sights that the city and its Ivory Tower had to offer. She was tempted to ask the sister, whose name she had discovered to be Terias Sedai, about the wonderful things she saw, as Terias seemed to have little trouble talking about all the enchanting things she'd be able to do with the power when she was raised. Especially healing, yes, the Andorian Sister loved to talk about the healing arts. Still, Serien remained silent, an unusual thing for her. She tried to tell herself it had nothing to do with the fact that she was practically running to keep up with the woman's much longer strides, no, that wasn't related at all.

Looking down the halls on the fly, the young woman noticed a trend in the clothing, the younger girls usually wearing plain white dresses while the slightly older ones wore dresses with banded sleeves. She reasoned that this wasn’t a random occurrence, but as she was about to inquire about this Terias Sedai stopped at a large oak door. The yellow sister knocked her fist against it three times before Serien came to it. The Aes Sedai looked down at her, smiling, "This is the Mistress of Novices' office; you'll get to know her quite well as a Novice." Making an effort to slow her breathing and racing heart, the Ebou Dari girl nodded her head.

The doors opened, and the yellow sister stepped through, greeting the sister within as Larindhra Sedai, and exchanging pleasantries. "Serien, come in, introduce yourself." The girl stepped in quickly, and curtsied awkwardly to the woman, never having accepted any authority but her mother’s before this moment.  Still, these were Aes Sedai, not some snobby noble women who needed a good beating to set them straight. "I'm Serien Miarade of Ebou Dari, Mistress." She felt a bit like she was on display, but her voice remained firm. After all, it never mattered ones age in a tavern, the serving girls were harassed by someone eventually, or at the very least had lewd eyes upon them. That of course didn't mean she wasn't nervous; she was simply used to it.

Handle: Kura

Real name: Jordan

WT Characters Played: Serien Miarada

email: shadowfreak0000@yahoo.com (But its not the most reliable way to contact me..)

MSN: shadowfreak0000@yahoo.com

AIM: gunhoegod1

Alright Mat, I'll get to fixing this all for the wiki, and I'm not sure I can assign starting WS, I'd have to talk to Liitha and shes on LoA, but I'll look at the bios and give it my best guess, and if she doesn't like my numbers we can get it straightened out later.

Though technically I'm only supposed to work with your initiates, I somehow doubt I'll get called on making sure everything is up to date.  ;)

Edit: I'd judge them as a 3 on WS, but like I said, I can't give you definite answers.

Lol, thanks Liitha. -bows, returning to staff, albeit at a lower position than his last time around..-

But hey, thats not necessarily a bad thing!

Anyways, yes, I'm the Master of Initiates, which sounds awesome I might add!  8) I'll be covering your initiate needs, from approving reqs, to updating the wiki. If its related to you ranking up, or just a question on a req, either post on the proper board or PM me, and I'll get back to you in a jiffy.

I just turned in my Novice Quiz, got my mentor and all, but I'm definitely up for it. I'm dying for an RP. >_>

Updated on the Wiki.

Alright, its logged that your WS 5 now, that thread having enough for the rank up. Enjoy.

http://forums.dragonmount.com/index.php/topic,34556.0.html Learning a skill(teaching)

He is going through, experimenting with different teaching styles to see what suits best when teaching the Game of Houses.

its actually a fun little story involving assault and a broken harddrive..