Weeks passed, and Arcon could see his body growing harder, leaner. He woke up in the morning, stripped to his waste, and after weeks, he saw definition. Physically, he felt like a bull, better than he had before he had ever touched the taint. Mentally was another issue, he missed the source. The feel of molten Saidin running through him, filling him with a life greater than any non-channeler could imagine. But he'd have to deal with it; hadn't a choice. He'd be strong, he wouldn't give that Flaming Goat Kisser the satisfaction of watching him break.

When he came up on deck this day though, he saw lathes instead of the average, and on one faithful occasion above average, belaying pins. Each looked to be about the length of a longsword. Finally; some sword practice. He picked up the 'blade' gingerly. He'd never really hefted a weapon, only filled with the power. This was what he'd come to learn, and so he stepped last in line. IT held the advantage of watching all of his classmates perform, though the disadvantage of having the most attention on him when it came to a close.

He watched how Mr. Sweeper brutally critiqued each member of his pitfiends, and could have growled. Instead, he took his turn.

Unfolding the Fan- He drew it from his left with his right hand, edge swinging outward in an initial cut, his foot moving forward to put his new found weight behind the blow. It seemed clumsier than when that aggravating first mate had done it, but he had no time to stop and think about that. He pulled the sword back infront of him, and

Lion on the Hill - the wooden sword moved up to shoulder height, his elbows bent sharply, and the blade angling out in front of his face. It all seemed to leave him terribly open; yet it'd probably allow one to attack a fraction faster, at least if they swung high, like when he moved his sword to

Arc of the Moon - slash almost straight across, keeping both hands firmly on the hilt. Instead of forward, he took a step diagonally forward, aiming to get the tip to cleave at least half way through his opponents neck. Half was as good as completing the job in this instance. With a rotation of his wrists he moved on to

Courtier tips his fan - split the skull. A simple, but brutal move. He thought he'd found a fondness for it. This time, he chose to simply sidestep; knowing better than to stand in one place for to long. With that done, he retracted into guard position. Though quickly he moved to

The Falcon Swoops - He drove the sword forward, another simple forward step, and retracted. Repeating the overhand thrust three times, as Mr. Sweeper had done. With a step back, he brought his sword up, moving to finish all with

Hummingbird Kisses the Honey Rose - a jab straight into the face. Blinding, impaling, and cutting off the light from those fools who worship it. Satisfied, only one move remained.

Folding the Fan - He turned his right wrist, and swung his arm as to sheathe the blade. Holding it there for a moment, it wavered a bit, before bringing it across to the proper side.

His gaze locked on Mr. Sweeper, who shook his head. "Not a damn spark of skill in the entire lot. I want you to repeat again, and again, till your all old and blind enough to be playin' stones with Rat over there." And so it began, each student redoing the forms, Mr. Sweeper  draging elbows, wrists, knees, and ankles into the proper position, even if Arcon could hardly see the difference of the adjustment. He practiced until the sun went down, till his muscles screamed torment. He fell into a deep slumber that night; knowing not what to expect the next day.

((Haha, pestering you worked. ;)))

Sereth eyed the man who'd been sent to train him; Drak. There was something very unnerving about the man. Something that put him more than on edge; that was saying something. He grew up with an insane male channeler as a teacher. Still, this man held knowledge that he needed.  That was reason enough to overcome any uneasiness.

The man barked at him, and for once, the loose tongued boy kept his mouth shut. He doubted Drak would cope with his long rants. Further, he wisely held his tongue when he was told to assume the void, and uttered only a single word in the Old Tongue, "Ko'di." With that, he assumed the void with little trouble. His teacher had taught it to him long ago, it was a supreme concentration technique, that he'd often used in philosophical debates. Without the burden of emotion, the mind could more freely wander. That, at least, was what his teacher had said.

His voice was cold, as he spoke, "I have assumed the void. Please, let us begin further lessons." Even in the void though, Drak still unnerved him. He couldn't help but feel like he was being measured, as a carperter does his chisels. What use would Drak try to use him for? Or was it simply that he wanted to see how the new weapon would preform? Sereth, for once, was quite unsure.

Nah, about two hours into this, I relized I was a sucker. =)

Shoulda read the fine print. :D

Vincent's eyes narrowed. "I have left my family, what little friends I had, all of my life, to make this journey, and along the way I've learned just how inexperienced I am, but that matters naught. Forgive me, but this is insulting." His tone was level, even though he had an idea of the price of displeasing this woman. If it came down to blades, he doubted he'd have a chance to draw his own. Still, he was never one to back down, never when he was committed.

"But if I must answer you directly, I know the price, I know what I am signing up for. To give my life without a second thought to another, to a cause greater than myself. Chances are, by showing up here I've effectively shortened my lifespan, but I don't care." Again, that no nonsense tone of his was used. Every word would be forced to be taken as it was, the truth. Vincent had no second thoughts about his choice. He came here to be a warder, and that is exactly what he was going to be.

Hehe, thanks Ashara. And yeah, there be plenty to read up on, and see what needs to be changed, and the like lol.

Should be a wild ride.

Arcon let his facade slip an inch, a smile crawling over his features. "Yes, dreadlady, we will behave better than we have been." Of course, that meant very little. They were killers in training; misbehavior should be expected. He could have laughed at her dismissal, but wisely held her tongue. She knew as well as he did that there was very little chance of any of them actually behaving; so she gave advice that was just as sound.

As they filed out, Arcon took his customary position of the middle of the group. It had the dual effect of letting him blend in, and protecting him from any who might want to harm him after his little charade in the pit. As they left, those who hadn't turned to his side went in an opposite direction, Arcon doubted he'd seen the last of them.

What remained turned to him only just out of earshot. "You know, Arcon, we always thought you were a loner, and not at all friendly. Now we know the latter to be true, but you seem to know how to keep us alive. I think that the way for most of us to survive, is to stick together." Arcon looked at him; he'd expected things to return to normal after the pit. Still, this did offer new advantages. "Fine. I'll advise you where I can, but don't rely on me for every little issue, and let's not go flaunting me as some valiant leader; I won't tolerate it. In private though," he looked over his ragtag group of followers, "Well, we might as well have a name for ourselves. I think Pitfiends, will do just fine." Others nodded, and they separated.

This was a whole new game.

Hehe, pranked you say? We'll see how that turns out for you. ;)And yes, I always want to RP.

Also, thanks, RPing on Redpath's ship is fun. :) I'm gonna do what I can to get Mr. Sweeper back...

Oh, wonderful. A customized belaying pin, no doubt weighted and, was that a sheen as it caught the light? By the Great Lord this man was trying to kill him! He refused to look down at his pitiful Carhierien frame; but that didn't stop him from wondering how it was going to get the job at hand done. Still, with almost no pause, he walked over and took the Belaying pin from Mr. Sweeper, whom Arcon had fondly named flaming goat kisser, and proceeded to watch his arms nearly fail off as the man's massive muscles stop contributing. He'd spent to much time in his books.

He stepped slowly to the shroud, already unsteady due to the slight waves of the ship, and took a deep breath before climbing up. He even managed a few steps before the greased pin slipped from his hand, and clanked loudly onto the deck. By the Great Lord I'm going to kill this man... But before that, he either needed to kill most of the channelers on board without the source, or learn the blades well enough as to be able to kill Mr. Sweeper at his own game. Bloody tough choice.

With these thoughts in mind, he tried again. This time he got five steps before dropping it, and so began a pattern in which Arcon climbed, dropped the pin, cursed Mr. Sweeper and the woman who bore him, and tried again. After a full hours worth of exertion, sweat staining his fine woolen clothes, he had nearly made it, before he again dropped the pin. This time, it managed to hit his toe on the way down. With a yelp, he lost his balance, and fell. Franticly he grabbed for the shroud, but all he managed to do was hit his chin on the way down.

Black specks danced across his eyes, and later he would remember with a bit of satisfaction that the click of his jaw was gone, right before he slammed into the deck.

His training was done for the day.

Woof.

Now that thats done.I'm Kura, and I've just wandered into the stedding with my new wolfkin Raithgar Urion, great guy, I bet your all dieing to meet him (please!).

Lets see, I'm warm and fuzzy, enjoy being petted, and some other traits that I just realized I share with my monster of a pooch. -eyes him with a new bond of kinship- Anywho, I'm always up for an RP, and out side of my obligations to a once-a-week club, I'm always here...

So what are those 'lifes' some of you people talk about again?  ;)

So, questions, complaints, hellos, and the like for me? Please? -gives puppy eyes- (Last dog/wolf reference I swear)

Arcon woke up with one hell of a head ache, and for some reason his jaw clicked when he moved it. Then he remembered; Mr. Sweeper. At the thought he reached for the source, intent on burning down the boat, but when he reached, he hit a wall. His eyes widened, shielded. Then he noticed the small man in his room, well, larger than he, but small none the less. "Dun be tryin' dat again, boy. Ye 'member wha happened da last time?" It took the Acolyte a few moments to puzzle out the mans words, but when he did, he gritted his teeth. It had all come back to him by this point, feeling an incredible surge of the power, and then being thrown overboard.

Arcon quickly dressed, taking a fine woolen garment instead of his normal silks. As true as it was he didn't take care of the clothing as he should; it still didn't deserve the beating he was bound to get. Before he could move out of his room though, a man entered, one of his. An Andorian Acolyte, a couple years older then Arcon. What was his name again? Oh, Erian, thats right. "Arcon, your up, finally. We'd thought you had been put out for good." Arcon's eyes widened, "How long was I out?" Erian shifted his feet, "Two days." The Leader of the little group, whom referred to itself as the Pit Fiends, took a steadying breath. "Don't do anything rash, Erian-" The young man's face lit up, it wasn't often Arcon used a name. "We are shielded, and these men know their blades better than us. So let us do what we came here to do, and learn weaponry." He glanced at the man in the room, whom wore a large grin. "We'll deal with the rest later."

With that, Erian was rushed out of the room, and Arcon soon followed. He squinted at the bright light when he came to the deck. Mr. Sweeper was there. The boy could have screamed, but he had learned better. He awaited his first mind numbing assignment..

Arcon ground his teeth. This trolloc wannabe was irritating him beyond even his ability to mask his emotions. He took a steadying breath, and assumed the void for the control it offered. The light of Saidin pulsed, but he resisted. There must be dreadlords aboard the ship. Powerful ones, most likely. Then, something happened that caused him to loose it.

"Until then, allow me to acquaint ye all with two friends of mine:  bucket, and mop. Are there any questions?"

He seized the source.

He knew he had to be quick, and also realized that fire would be a very bad idea. So, he lashed out with another of his most powerful elements. Air. Throwing his full strength behind a single club of air, he threw it at 'Mr. Sweeper' with every intention of cracking that insolent, common skull of his. At that moment, someone with incredible strength took control of the source. Arcon could guess who this would end.

Sure enough, his weave was sliced, revealing to the boy exactly how that weave was done. He didn't have much time to celebrate, as flows of air wrapped around him, and tossed him back over the deck. All Arcon could do was straighten out, feet first and dove into the cold water. Seconds passed before he resurfaced. He thought briefly of boring a hole in the Raker, but his men were on board. It wasn't that he was afraid of that mystery channeler, never that.

The Acolyte fumbled for the rope ladder, and climbed swiftly. He had little faith in Mr. Sweeper, and doubted the man would hesitate to cut the rope if he knew that an attempt was made on his life. Scrambling over the top, he fell onto the deck sopping wet. He stood, and refused to look ashamed, or even chastised. "Mr. Sweeper, sir. May I embrace the source to dry off?" His tone was level, but rage skimmed the edges of the void...

Oh the advantages of the Shadow! So very far a distance, traveled in a heartbeat, and the brief ride from the Tairen country side to it's capital was a short one. It reminded Arcon a bit of his youth, on those rare occurrences that his father taught him anything but plotting. Except, his father had obviously kept different company. That thought required him to suppress a smile, looking at the men who had come with him. All were from that rather satisfying stay in the Pit, and even though one or two actually ranked above him, they took his advice for orders. That advice had kept them alive.

They rode through the bustling city of Tear, their horses catching some eyes when they traveled through the perfumed quarter to the docks. He wondered briefly why he had even bothered to accept these lessons. If a situation occurred where he couldn't channel, then he was most likely up against those that could. A sword would be of very little use at that point. Still, it would hone his body, and the extra stamina would be useful, not to mention appearances. Most Lord's at least carried a blade, even if they never had the intent to use it.

These thoughts in mind, he found himself hurried off of his horse, and ushered into a small rowboat. His followers said nothing, though Arcon doubted they were pleased. Still, appearances, he knew it would do if the entire Fortress any good if they knew the influence he had over his small group.

The man who manned the oars gave him a dirty look, "Those fancy clothes won't last very long on board, ye might be thinkin' to change them." Arcon gave him a level glare, "I've come prepared." He was surprised when the man laughed, didn't he know what could have been done to him at that moment? He must, and that thought was unsettling. Why would he not fear an acolyte, a future dreadlord? He squashed the thought, as they came to the huge Raker.

Even Arcon's couldn't hide his shock, though all he did was widen his eyes. A Raker? We are to be trained by Sea Folk? As they climbed up, Arcon expected to see beautiful women in brightly colored trousers and blouses, with chains hanging from nose to ear, along with matching men. When he saw people of a more familiar origin instead, he was even more amazed. They stole a Raker? Impressive. The Dreadlord who had accompanied them spoke up, "Listen to whatever the Captain says, or you will face a fate much akin to that in the Fortress." With that, he climbed back down, and was rowed back to the docks. Arcon and the others waited, not sure what to do.

((Bleh, hate to submit this, but I've been a long time coming with Raith's intro.))

A moment of shock caused him to inhale sharply. A smile spreading over his lips, and he looked to the rugged man who had took him thus far. He smiled, and spoke in that deep Shienarian accent of his, "Peace, you going to stand there all day grinning like a pup at his first kill?" Raithgar shook his head, the man's normal gruffness wasn't in it today. They continued tracking through the forest, the heavy foliage and heat not faring well with the native Shienarian boy. Still, the most disturbing thing was knowing that he was being watched, worse yet was that he could feel the watchers. "Don't worry, they are just patrolling." He nodded, and tried very hard to ignore them. To his surprise, it worked. Wish I'd known that sooner... It was nice to have his head to himself again.

A bit further in, he noted a building, and looked to the tracker, "The sages will explain everything you need to know. Just keep up, we're almost there." Raithgar again nodded, and his smile only grew. Finally, he'd get all the answers he needed. The tracker led him to another cropping of buildings, specifically to the largest one, and took him inside. Once inside, he was told to wait, and both men did. Raithgar perhaps, a bit more impatiently..

Currents of air swirled through the sand, twisting them, spinning them into a fine mesh of fire and air. The Darkhound saliva evaporated, and was strained like a meal of noodles. Holding the two low power weaves didn't prove too much of a strain, at least for the first couple hours. Though it did add up on the would-be dreadlord. The fact that he was only paying half a mind to it probably didn't help. His attention continued to shift to the girl. She'd tried to kill him three times now, her and her growing faction.

The pit channelers had been separated into two basic groups, mostly by gender, though a few of the opposite sex sprinkled each side. He thanked the Great Lord for that. From them, he knew that some of the women had linked, "To do the task with more power." He could have cursed, the bloody creator had denied him that ability, and he refused to submit control of the source to the women who had offered. He feared treachery. Still, he had to admit, that high pressure weave of water and air that they had formed, blasted darkhound prints right off the walls and floors was rather effective.

He let down his straining weave, and instead let the air carry the cleaned sand away from the rest. Piles of darkhound defecation littered the now bare stone floor. He drew fully on Saidin, and wove fire into each, burning them to ash, and then used air to blow them into one of the many bins. He looked at his quickly tiring males, and called a break. Each immediately released the source, and he believed the women had too. He was becoming quite the leader. Father would be proud... He quickly squashed those thoughts, thoughts of home lead to one thing... Oh god Alice! Quickly he assumed the void, and then let it falter. He could not show weakness. Not here.

He and his men ate a pitiful meal, and he glared at the still channeling females. She was smiling smugly at him. Though he knew she didn't control the weave, so she was of little threat... A single air razor and.. Again he let the thought drop. All they'd have to do was turn that weave. Thought, after ten minutes, the girls too stopped, and the prickling on his skin faded. Good. Shouldn't be long now... Channeling in groups was more tiring, they should take a cat nap soon.

And sure enough they did. He considered a weave of air, to quickly snuff out her life, but knew it'd be too obvious. Instead, he turned to one of his specialists. A devious genius of a man, who pulled a vial filled with green goo inside.. Nothing to harmful, just a distilled mixture of herbs that made you sleep. Though, they were power distilled, and the sludge had a habit of letting people take naps that lasted for weeks. The man took the cap off, and floated it to her mouth, and emptied it. More air clamped her jaw shut, plugged her nose, and stroked her neck. His women had told him their beliefs that opposite side didn't have any with a real proficiency in healing. Arcon claimed them from the get-go.

With that, his voice boomed, "Alright, we should get back to work. We can finish this tonight and get out of this place." All awoke, except the girl. Arcon suppressed a grin, and seized Saidin. "Wake her up already..." With that, he and his men turned to the pit, and formed their favorite cleaning weaves. He heard them shaking her, to no avail. One, he was told, tried to heal her, but the pathetic weave only made her shift in her sleep. "Leave her.. It's probably this bloody place." A few of the women nodded, and went to Arcon's side. Traitors, he had to love them.

Hours later, they finally finished the cleaning of the pit, and M'Bela's servant lead them out, the still unconscious woman left in the pit. When brought before the dreadlady, whom Arcon had developed a rather personal grudge against, he smiled, "We're one down, someone wouldn't wake up. I guess she wasn't strong enough, Dreadlady." He bowed his head respectively, hiding a smile, before they left, an air razor had finished the job. Perhaps that would teach some of these fools...

"Well, I had to learn how to cook. My teacher hated cooking, and didn't trust anybody he didn't know to cook for him, and well, I was the only one he really talked to. I swear the old man would've starved if I wasn't around." He stepped in with Annias' okay. "Heh, it wouldn't be the first time my stomach has ruined a grand gesture, the damn things out to get me." With a chuckle, he found the kitchen. Thankfully, it was small and simple. He quickly found the eggs, bacon, butter and bread. Going to the stove, he almost embraced the source, but reached for the flint and steal instead. No sense in setting anybody on edge.

"I see your point, but then again, I have no doubt that the M'Hael tried to intimidate you by doing something with Saidin. Something as simple as floating over a cup of tea, or water, or whatever you drink to quench your thirst. Speaking of which, what would you like to drink?" He set water to boil, he at least, wanted tea.

The pan getting up to heat, he chopped off an end of butter, and cracked eggs into the pan, with several strips of bacon Wow, this takes longer without the source... "How does the White Tower want to be viewed? To be honest, I don't know. I've seen Aes Sedai bully people, showing off their rings where they'd be recognized, and then I've seen you. I've never been on the receiving end of your negotiations, but I doubt you'd rely only upon your ring and shawl to get the job done." Perhaps he should have bit his tongue there, but he didn't regret the words. They expressed his opinion quite well, showing that he acknowledged both the good and bad of the White Tower. Besides, who could get angry at a person who was making them such a fine breakfast?

Speaking of which, he added the herbs to the tea, and cut up the loaf of bread into thin slices. By the time he'd finished this, the eggs were ready to be flipped. "White cloaks? I've never seen them do anything but threaten, and they do show your point. Who wants to deal with one of them?" The main hot meal done, he emptied them out onto plates, and emptied the grease out of the pan before throwing in the bread to toast. "And Tinkers? Have they negotiated for anything? They ask for things to mend, and tell how they live to those who ask. Such a peaceful life, one could envy them..."

With a sigh, he grabbed the toast from the pan and stacked them on a plate. The tea was done, "The stronger party might not win if the other was more skillful. Like the difference between you and I, Annais. I'm willing to bet I will be stronger in the power than you, of course we can't be sure unless you dueled me when I reach my full potential, but I bet your weaves would dance around mine with little trouble." While talking he brought out the three plates, plates and silverware for each person, and the tea kettle, two by two. "Anything else while I'm up?"

After a second's pause for their response, he continued speaking , "And what is the stronger party? Well, it'd seem to be the one with more to offer." He served out two eggs, six pieces of bacon, and two slices of toast to the two women, before doing the same for himself. "Oh, and how do you like your tea?" Again he served it how they preferred. He was proud of himself; he hadn't done medial chores like this without the power since he'd been here. He still had it. "Am I close, or do I have an even larger mountain to climb than I thought?"

Well, lets see.

Sereth-My BT solder, is motivated by a pursuit of understanding. Mostly in philosophy, but he doesn't exclude any knowledge. Assuming he lives till the clensing, he'd use all 600+ years of his life simply learning. Its what and who he is.

Vincent-My Warder Trainee is motivated by the idea of something to die for, namely Aes Sedai. He wants to sell his life dearly, in the name of an honorable cause. So, he trains night and day to achieve that goal.

Arcon Dadread- My Dreadlord Acolyte was fed the shadow through a pair of perfect lips. Ever since he was a toddler his nanny would tell him of the glories of the shadow, and he fell in love with her, and when she was discovered, he learned he can channel, and so continues fighting for the shadow because of her. That, and a personal sense of superiority. He channels tainted Saidin, and so he is better than the Aes Sedai who can only handle a 'pure' source, and the Asha'mon who will succumb to it. He's vain like that. ^_^;

Sereth suppressed a laugh, another point to him. He was getting good at flustering Aes Sedai. "Breakfast? Oh, that'd be lovely. I uh..forgot to eat." His face again flushed scarlet, luckily she turned before he did. Light blinded fool Sereth! Control your emotions! He took a deep breath while she took her time getting dressed, partially forming the void, and then letting it go. No need to sound cold around her.

When she reappeared, his smile was back in place. He would offer little else to her, unless they once again crossed a dark topic of conversation. "Well then, good morning Annias ((;))) Sedai. As I doubt I will be blowing anything up with these lessons, your residence should suit fine." He thought for a moment before answering her next question. "Well, I beleive negotiations are essentially arguments, one side going for everything they want, and the other the same. You must keep a careful tongue, admittedly something I fail miserably at, and also I'd think it prudent to keep your emotions in check as well. Also, an advantage I have against the weak stomached is Saidin. The knowledge that I channel would aid me greatly, especially if I took an aggressive approach." He dug his mind for anything else, coming up practically empty, "I fear you are working with a mostly clean slate, I know very little else."

For the first time he looked past Annias, to the woman who was also in the house. The way she wore her sword, it was like it was simply a steal appendage. This puzzled Sereth, not that a woman wielded a sword, he'd learned of the Maidens of the Spear of the Aiel, but why is she here? Annias was surrounded by five-hundred male channelers, there was little a single sword could do. He supposed it was comforting to Annias, and so he left it alone. "Hmm, so, Annias, may I come in? I'll even make a nice breakfast of bacon and eggs to pay for your tutoring." He tossed her a wink, and laughed as his own stomach growled its agreement.

((OOC: Hmm, looks like I messed up in my other intro thread, but I'll edit that as necessary to include anything from this.))

Vincent walked across the bridge to Tar Valon, a smile splitting his face. His once fine cloak was tarnished and tattered in places, he had run into a few issues along the way. He'd even managed to have his horse stolen, but here that would all change. Here he'd learn to wield the blades at his hip, and he'd learn how to defend those he'd spent years idolizing. Aes Sedai.

He walked down a main road of the city, its architecture stunning him. You were wrong father, there is a city more impressive than Camelyn. If only by a little... Warder-to-be or not, he was still an Andorian. The buildings stunned him to the point, that he took a turn down a smaller road, and another, and soon found himself not knowing which way was towards the center, where he envisioned the tower to be. Your no better than a Farm boy in his first city Vincent.. His own thoughts berating him.

He found himself wandering, trying to find his way on his own, his pride not letting him ask for directions. Each step echoed by a mental oath. He kept his hands on his sword hilt the entire time, his eyes constantly scouting for thieves. Yes, bad experiences on the way. After an hour of aimless wandering, his stomach threatened him with a rumble, and all Vincent could do was sigh. "If its not one thing, its another." He quickly found an inn with the sign "Green's Advocate" painted in a dark green. A shrug, it looked clean.

He pushed open the doors, and quickly shoved his way through the throng to the inn keeper, and ordered some nice hot mutton stew. The fat man nodded, his extra chins dancing with the action. "Will you be needing a room tonight?" Vincent looked out a window at the setting sun, and regretfully nodded his head. This was going to break him. The inn keeper's smile only widened, and he was given a table with three other men at it. Each eyed him up and down, there eyes turning when they noticed his weapons.

Vincent shook his head, not sure whether to think the men cowards, or himself lucky. This inner debate soon ended, when fresh, hot meat was put in front of him. The smell made his mouth water, he hadn't had a warm meal in a good while. He devoured it in record time, a smile crept over his lips as he thought of what his mother would say to that. One of the men turned to him, again eying him. "So, kid. What're you doing in Tar Valon?" Vincent smiled, "I'm going to be a warder, you?" The man's eyes widened, and he again eyed that sword. Vincent could practically see him think, rob him, and piss off a future warder, or leave him alone, and miss whatever goods that Vincent carried? His mind decided, he looked at Vincent's face once again, "Just a local." Vincent's smile widened, and he did his best to put as much menace as he could. He had had enough of thieves.

The man glared back, but eventually turned. Not wanting to risk his luck, he stood and went upstairs, being led to his room by a pretty serving girl. She gave him a wide smile when they reached her door. "Well, this is your room." She eyed the body he had trained night and day for since he was a small child with lustful eyes. "I don't suppose you'd want some help getting that sword belt off?" She offered him a wink, and he shook his head. "Maybe some other time, its been a long time since I've had a bed, and I don't plan to share it." She pouted, but left him alone. As he stepped into his room, he locked his door, and forced the hilt of his sword under the door knob, no sense taking any chances someone would have the key.

With that, he hurriedly got undressed, and fell into bed. A deep, undisturbed slumber, filled with dreams of himself in gleaming armor, and a color changing cloak wrapped around his shoulders. A women with an ageless face, and a golden  great serpent ring on her hand. He awoke with a grin, remembering where he was and how far he had come. Suddenly, the problems he'd had along the way seemed minor, and he got dressed, absently noting that the end of his sheath was further ahead than he had left it, and retrieved it to belt onto his waist.

With a bounce in his step, he walked himself down to the common room. His last coin spent on some stew for breakfast. Finishing it, he leaned back in his chair. Relaxing before his day began again...

aww, no one taking me up yet? I'll probably close this up this weekend, so take advantage while its there. ;)

Thanks mat, and I'd like to apologize for being so rude and impatient, bad times IRL, and I fear my old habit of taking my anger/frustration out on others came up again.

((OOC: Forgive the pun. Couldn't resist. ;)))

Three hard knocks rattled the door where Annais was staying. A smile worthy of an Ogier splitting Sereth's face. He was to receive what she had offered on their very first meeting today; lessons. Another subject for his mind to delve into and explore, another facet from which to view the world. He'd learn a portion of negotiating today, a subject that he needed. After all, a piece of the skill was when to talk, and when to keep your mouth shut.

Oh, he knew he couldn't possibly master the subject in the time that Annias had to spare on him, but without a doubt it would push him in the right direction. Give him a starting place from which to grow, to practice on. Though would the end result be him becomming a sort of pseudo-grey, instead of the white or brown that he already mimicked? Perhaps, but without proper guidance young Sereth's mind was bound to explore far different avenues to reach whatever goal he set out for. Of course, that was a part of being a philosopher, to introduce new ways of thought, of understanding, and negotiating to Sereth would be a skill of the mind. So why should the two not mix?

All these thoughts flourished in his mind, taking turns that had been taught to him at a young age. So engrossed was he in his thoughts, that he hardly noticed when the door opened, showing Annias. After a moment of him standing dumbfounded, he shook his head. Bringing his consciousness back to the world of the living. "Ahh, uh. Sorry there Annias Sedai, I was just thinking. You know, like I always do." A chuckle, as his face grew scarlet, and his hand raised to scratch the back of his head. A habit his teacher had passed on to him. "I hope it is not to early." The sun was just starting to creep over the horizon, "I am a bit eager to begin my lessons, but I will return later if you wish." Realizing where his hand was, he promptly dropped it to his side, ruffling his hair in the process. Perhaps eager was to weak a word...

Most likely to say several wrong things in a row: Sereth

And we're counting Linten as a good guy?  ;)

Hehe, I'm probably going to be accused of hogging the negotiator, but I want another RP with you. ;)

Non-learning RP is one of Sereth's requirements, and it seems like the two have already set up lessons on negotiating. So, what do you say Annias, another round with he who speaks far to much? (Who needs the car'a'carn. ;))

Sereth grew a bit somber. He knew when his tongue wore on peoples nerves. At least this one hadn't responded to negatively. He'd make a mental note to use a more clipped form of speech, which of course meant talking like everyone else, but hey, that was clipped for him. "He lit a candle, with his back to me. I couldn't see it being lit, but he moved his arms as if he meant too, and told me to focus. After some time, he laughed and told me I could channel." His head bobbed when Arath told him of his position. He'd already accepted that he was alone now, only leaving a note and a mad old man to explain everything to his parents. It wouldn't do good for their customers to learn that they bore a 'monster'.

"So, I have almost not chance of survival? My mind so used to exploring the finer parts of thought, shall be reforged, sharpened, and hardened into that of a weapon? If it must be done to learn, than I will. As to rank, I'll make sure to step in line. The more decoration, the more cautious I must be."

When Arath asked him that simple question, his mind buzzed with hundreds. Where will I stay, what are the chances of me living, when will my body start to fall apart? He suppressed them all, he was sure he would be told the answer to most, and find out for himself with the others. "No, continue with the tour and training." He stood, waiting for Arath to move and show him around. So, his first accomplishment in the Black Tower. A tour, it was a step in the right direction.

Sereth laughed, his fingers running through his hair. "And I thought I was the one who was supposed to be asking questions. The answer quite simply is, no. I wasn't scared, I didn't know, I don't care for the knowledge, and no he isn't an Asha'mon. He hadn't hurt me before, why would he begin with the revelation that he could channel? He hid his ability quite well, though in retrospect I can see times when he had channeled. As for me being tested, I didn't have a choice. He simply got a candle, made a move as to light it with his back to me and the candle blocked from my view, and told me to focus. He was my philosophy teacher, I was used to such things and so didn't suspect. Though I wanted to learn to channel for its own sake, from all the descriptions of channeling, a shear mental challenge, it sounded like great and wonderful thing. And as far as I know, my teacher has never stepped foot in the black tower. Though I do assume he will."

The conversation continued, him mostly nodding his head as she spoke. "I'd like that a lot. I fear my knowledge has been rather restricted since I've gotten here. Its not that they prevent me from learning other things, they just don't focus on it. I truly have no desire to destroy with the power, though I'm so clumsy with it that I fear I would not make a good healer." Another laugh, and he itched the back of his head. "As to my routine. I get up, and I usually have a lesson. Though I get less than some, because my talents aren't as common as the others. I show more ability in air and spirit, than earth, though fire is just as easy as the first. I hear thats uncommon, and it seems to be true." 

He nodded, "If our two towers are on that good of terms, then yes it makes sense. Though in truth, I wonder how many sisters it'd take to hold me at my full strength.I told you I'm clumsy with the power, but I make up for it in strength. We can only guess, men can't tell another's strength unless he has reached it, and is holding it, can women?" He gave her a moment to nod or respond more vocally, before continuing, "But my teachers still call me an ax. I can do more damage than a sword, but I'll never match that grace or speed."

"Again I digress, I can always find a free space in my schedule to learn from you, and negotiation hasn't been something my teachers had taught me. The closest I've had were arguing my views against my teacher. Though I usually lost, surrendering to one who has found a greater enlightenment than I, even if by questionable causes." Yes, he called the insane man enlightened, he had even admitted that the taint had made him as such. That was why Sereth could so easily talk about the insanity that was bound to catch up to him, he thought that he too could find a form of it. "Though negotiating for something, that I imagine to be a bit different. Trying to get something, or keep, would add a different level."

Sereth saw her blink at his question, and inside his head he was proud, though he carefully kept it from his face. He had heard all about Aes Sedai serenity, how you could almost never surprise one, but he had done it. "It makes sense, but in truth I see a competition. I don't doubt your abilities, but we men have something to prove. We're not monsters, and we are just as good as the Aes Sedai. Again, I mean no offense, but Aes Sedai have been at the top of the social ladder for three thousand years. I do not believe your sisters will surrender that very easily." He carefully kept her out of this grouping. To both show his faith that some sisters would accept the men, and more specifically she could. He knew she had her biases, it was the reason he hadn't accompanied his explanation of his skill and strength with a demonstration, but he believed she could overcome them.

A smirk crept over his face, "Yes, I suppose it is only fair that you know the man I am leading you to. Well, as I said he is Attack Leader, meaning assuming his sanity remains mostly whole, he will lead Asha'mon into battle. He will only have to take orders from Storm Leaders, who are above Attack Leaders, the M'Hael, and of course the dragon reborn. Around the Tower, he mostly trains us solders and dedicated. Though I'm not so sure that is an assigned duty. As to the man, he has a sense of humor though I don't recommend using that to much in the beginning. I wouldn't expect to be blasted or shielded, but perhaps a bit of coldness until he gets to know you a bit. I'm no negotiator, but I'd try to give him a reason to trust or like you. Once he gets comfortable with you, he should warm up and talk to you like a human being, instead of some zealot off to slay us monsters. And as with most Asha'mon, do not embrace the power. He'll be suspicious, I don't know your exact strength or his, but as men tend to be stronger, I would place my money on him. Not to mention our different specialties."

He looked into the distance, resisting the temptation to seize the source to aid his vision. "It isn't much further. Assuming I must leave you and you need me, ask around. I'm usually in the barracks, or in one of the practice fields I showed you. If ever you have time to teach me a portion of your trade, collect me from anything but a lesson with Saidin. I fear my teacher may lash out with you, and call it an accident." He sighed, thinking of the two men they had passed. She hadn't done anything to them, and from what Ihe could tell, she was here to help both towers get along. Still, the ring on her finger would mark her as a target. "I hope Attack Leader Arath won't mind if I stick around when he talks to you. After all, it would be a pain for you to find another solder to guide you around." He chuckle escaped him yet again. "Either way, we should move on." He began walking to the left, toward Faringal Manor. He didn't try to strike up to much more of a conversation, mostly since he'd regret it being cut off by the building that was coming into view. Still, he'd answer any last questions she had on the walk there. When he reached the door, he'd knock hard once, and if it opened he'd respond with a curt. "I'm here with Annias Aes Sedai, her guide around the Black Tower. She asked if there was anyone she should talk to, so I brought her here. Also, I'd like to stay. If not while you talk to her directly, to practice in your yard. It would be an inconvenience for her to have to find another guide." His voice was still its light, almost whimsical self. Yet it held a certain respect as he talked to Arath. Of course he respected Annias, but Arath shared a common goal with Sereth, a common path, and he was a great in the field.