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DRAGONMOUNT

A WHEEL OF TIME COMMUNITY

Kura

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  1. Sereth Arian followed the Storm Leader Covai through the hole in reality. He couldn't believe what was happening. Though he still didn't personally like the man who formed the skimming platform, he had to say he respected him, and, as all people were, cowed by his presence. All of these thoughts were in his mind as he followed Covai, recognizing at once their destination. Oh... Oh my. This, this will be interesting... For the umpteenth time today he swallowed the urge to ask any questions. Though he was no longer the ranting child who viewed Saidin as some great beast to poke and prod at, he would ever be curious. Ever the philosopher, the historian, but most of all, a student to the world. These answers will come in time Sereth, just let them lie for now. Much unlike that previously mentioned boy, he was fully aware of his surroundings, and when they were within the room of the M'Hael, he was fully aware of the glaring, raging illinair. He stood firm as the man spoke back to the Lord Dragon, Sereth's hands tightened into a white knuckled grip upon the sword on his hip, an unusual move, seeing as how he almost never appeared to be aware of the instrument. The Dragon's rebuttal however, forced the air from his lungs. So much power... He could incinerate us all. What truly took him back however, was the Dragon's proclamation. Peace with the White Tower! Finally! Floodgates of possibilities surged through his mind. Talking with Aes Sedai, who lived for hundreds of years, the bookish browns, the logistical whites, the world wise blues, the anatomy wise yellows, the negotiators of the grey, the battle hardened greens... And the reds. The women who hunt his kind. It was... a sobering thought. He'd taken lessons from a grey in the arts of negotiation... Maybe that would help. Still, it was worth it. The Library of Tar Valon was actually an option now... His attention was ripped back to the present, preparing himself to defend from what was bound to be one angry M'Hael...
  2. Adamin had to resist the temptation to laugh as everything unfolded. He was being defended by two women, two rather attractive women at that, from a burly bull of a man. It was deliciously ironic, truth be told however, it did rankle his pride a fair degree. . Still, he decided to take his sister’s path though, and used his natural talent of stealth, trained through years of being a black market supplier. When his sister picked up Cassie, an odd mix of emotions filled up. Glee, of course was present, after all she was a stunning soprano, however a bit of some strange emotion crept in. It wasn’t jealousy exactly, just a sense that she shouldn’t be there. This was the twin’s great escape, their last moment of glory before a life of swordplay and hardship, maybe even being separated if some whimsical Aes Sedai decided to he liked Adamin’s well turned calves… Of course this didn’t mean he wouldn’t capitalize upon the situation. He stole a few moments between saddling the horses to steal that kiss he had wanted, literally sweeping her up off her feet, and throwing her against a support beam. He felt that sense of pride stir in him when he set her down, leaving her breathless. He tossed her another flirty wink, and each escorted a horse out to meet back up with his sister. He watched the scene behind him with a hint of disinterest, faked of course considering his life could be on the line if Bart decided to charge like the bull Ada had compared him to. He mounted like he did most things in the presence of women; a bit flashy, without being overly dramatic about it, and making sure to show off his well muscled frame. Something made considerably easier with the lack of a shirt. He rode off with his sister, pulling a shirt from his saddle bags somewhere along the way. He laced it reluctantly, grinning over at his sister. Not the flirtatious smile he had demonstrated for the singer, no, a genuine smile that he reserved nowadays almost exclusively for his sister. “Quite an interesting night, wouldn’t you say Del?” His sing-song voice turned up at the end, giving it the same fox-esque qualities that his sincere grin was taking on. He took the rebuttal he knew he’d receive with a laugh, and steered his horse closer to his sisters, using exclusively his knees. He lashed out, grabbing his twin around the hips and pulled her onto his horse side saddle on his knee, every now and then having to reassert that was in fact the male of the pair. He cut off her protests, “What do you think is ahead of us, Del?” She’d have to grow serious; how could not, when her brother’s similar moods were so rare. They chatted about it for a while, Ada holding his sister’s horse’s reins with one hand, the other looped around her waist. He snuggled up to her and sighed, “I love you Del…” He waited for her response before adding, “But where are we going to sleep?” Dogs howled, cats yowled, and birds fluttered as she screamed his name into the night…
  3. The woman was a bladestorm. He rested within Ko'Di, fighting with both daggers, doing his best to parry every lightning strike that came his way. He knew that this woman put no value on his life... and he began to fight for it. He believe he made it three minutes before the void shattered under the stress of the assault. Abruptly the assault stopped, and his teacher looked... disappointed. Rage welled up, but he quickly fed it to the void, and took his stance. Again she assaulted him, challenging his snake-quick reflexes, her blows straining his corded muscles. He fought hard, floating in the void. Countering where he could, deep down knowing that she was holding back, treating him as a child... The thought again shattered the void, and yet again the woman's attacks ceased. Dhjorn was breathing hard. He fed his contempt into the flame once again, noticing that it was coming easier as he repeated the exercise, if only by a fraction. He held his daggers at the ready once more, and the assault renewed. Dhjorn moved his hands as he had before, defending, every now and then launching a quick thrust, forcing her to parry to buy himself a bit of time on the defense. He let the void do its work, detaching himself from the fight at the same time living every moment of it, from the points of his daggers to the woman's own spinning wrists. He lost track of the time, until he was savagely struck on the head, sending him sprawling out. By some miracle he maintained both consciousness and the void. Looking up at her, he searched her for an answer, before realizing that he must have made it the full twenty minutes. He stood, his head throbbing, but all the same waiting for her to continue. The fade ignored the emotion skirting the edge of the void, before it was consumed by the Flame. It had no place in his dead heart...
  4. Arcon drew his sword. "Final warning Dhjorn." The Fade turned his frightening gaze upon Arcon; Arcon met his eyes without flinching. He had practiced on that wretch Calaun, and would not be intimidated again. The Fade spun Shadar out of his grasp, putting the student on his ass against a wall. Some hurt pride, but he'd be alright, thought the dreadlord. "Now Shadar, watch closely. I use a slightly different weapon group than you, but the basics are essentially the same for all bladed weapons." He drew on Saidin, weaving a dagger of air and fire into his left hand, and tied off the weave. Arcon fought with both power and blade, and he'd teach Shadar to do the same. Arcon shifted the weight to the balls of his feet, as he was taught to do when he entered combat. It was a method known as Cat Crossing the Courtyard, and it maximized his reaction time. The Fade charged at him, a double thrust aimed for his chest. Arcon countered with "The Cat Dances on the Wall," and named it for the benefit of Shadar. It was a series of lightning fast thrusts, slashes, and parries, and a great defensive maneuver for those with the wrist and feet speed to perform it. Arcon shifted to offense ,"Cutting the Clouds," a strike at his opponents wrists. The Fade leaped back. Arcon held his sword ready at the hip, his dagger at chest level. The Fade attacked again, "The Dove takes Flight." A thrust from the hip, with high power. It went on like this for a while, neither warriors gaining ground over the other. Arcon's skill was matched by the Fade's faster, stronger body. Arcon's training met with Dhjorn's instinct. It was far from a blade master tournament to be sure, but both knew the pointy end of the blade. Arcon ended it with "Courtier taps his Fan," a savage downward cut to the skull, and when Dhjorn blocked, he added in a gust of air to knock him onto his back. "Shadar, I demonstrated many sword forms, though I doubt the Fadeling here picked any up, concentrated as we were. Stand up, and face Dhjorn again, and try to incorporate some." He knew how challenging this would be, not even having the chance to practice the forms, he doubted even Shadar's amazing learning ability would hold out. Still, he'd know what it was like trying to learn and adapt in real combat, and that was a valuable lesson. One he had learned from his first teacher Mr. Sweeper, may lionfish make a meal of his innards...
  5. Sereth wove simple weaves. Rocks fell and exploded do to the grenade weave, forcing his leaping adversary to change direction to dodge. Caltrops rose to slice open her boots and feet. Small fireballs, meant more to scorch than to destroy the lass fell. He got more aggressive as she moved on, sending larger earthen projectiles, even causing the earth to move under her feet. He was pleased to see his student doing the same, even weaving lightning at his sister, though Sereth knew he had no intent of hitting her with that deadly bolt. She disappeared in a hole in the wall, and Sereth moved to the other side of his platform. She had advanced to the second stage of the challenge. From here she'd have to climb up, and leap to the next platforms to advance. It gave the defenders ample time to hit her, it'd be difficult to change direction while she was airborne. Sereth threw more light weaves at the Blademaster, more grenades, more fireballs. He was tired, having exerted himself far to much when he had risen up this maze for her to practice in. He switched tactics suddenly, throwing clubs and bands of air at the ever agile target. A small smile spread over his lips as one connected with her, slamming into her left ribs. You won't be able to see everything a channeler throws at you Thera. He took a moment to watch Mathis' reaction, as he thought he wasn't amused with actually striking his sister. Sereth had given him his warning, he'd need to keep up and adapt in order to give his sister the challenge she deserved. Sereth moved a platform back mid leap, forcing Thera to extend herself and scramble for the edge. He thought he had her there, and prepared himself to throw more clubs of air, aiming for her arms... It was a short fall, perhaps six feet, and a small tunnel led back to the first stage of the challenge, allowing her to try again if she did succumb...
  6. Sereth Arian was searching through a dusty back room of a book store. He had heard rumors of a surviving copy of Stemming the Black Tide, a book on war wrote during the Trolloc wars. Sereth thought it relevant to be up to date on the known tactics of the enemy, even if they were incredibly outdated. The book seller looked nervous. "You... You arrived by stepping out of the air, that means you... You are one of these Asha'man, right?" Sereth sighed, he doubted he'd like where this was going. "Yes... yes I am." The man did a full turn around, making sure no one else was around. "Yes, yes, thought so... This means you can use the power, like the Aes Sedai..." Sereth's eyebrows rose, and was about to correct the man, "Well, technically..." The seller snapped, "Yes, you have the male half! The part that destroyed the world! You will eventually kill us all, but for now, yes now you are sane, right!" The Asha'man had seized Saidin half way through the man's banter. "I am as sane as ever, book seller. Why do you ask." He still used his casual words, but for the first time in a long time, he embraced the emotionless tone of the void. He liked the effect it had on the deranged man; he shrunk in response to the harsh tone. "Oh, so sorry Asha'man its just... Ah, I know I should have gone to the wise women, those red belts have helped before, but... They don't have the power... and I'm sick, real sick..." Sereth relaxed a hair. He wanted healing. "Been going around. People start behaving crazily, and then they just die. I'm... I'm sure you've noticed my mood swings." The black coat nodded. "Now I don't know if you can, so far as I've heard the male half is only good for killing, but could you... Could you try to heal me?" The pleading tone in his voice was heart wrenching. Still, he couldn't possibly help the man, he knew only the lowest forms of the healing weaves, and doubted they would be enough. When he told the man this, he broke down into tears, going to smash his head into the books. Flows of air stopped him, both the scholar and the humanitarian within Sereth couldn't have allowed him to hurt himself. "Let us go to these red belts as you called them, herbs can do amazing things." Another band of air, this time around the book seller's mouth; he couldn't deal with the screaming. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stemming the Black Tide and picked it up, leaving a full Andorian Crown in it's place, before moving out into the throngs of people. There were perks to this black coat, Sereth thought. The people parted before him on his way to help the floating book seller.
  7. The thought of asking another man for help with a woman, or at the very least an issue over a woman, rankled the deep sense of pride that the male twin held onto... He hadn't even used a wingman in...No, don't think about him. "But sister..." He was stunned to see that she cut his normal charade of begging short, opting to speak to the man herself. Adamin blinked. Twice. Oh my...is my sister...? He chuckled to himself. "Well, well D'Ashan, looks like my sister finally found someone to..." At that moment he noticed Addison, and thought that the shock of seeing his sister chasing a man must be affecting him more than he originally theorized. He was about to introduce himself, but found her already deadlocked in conversation with Adamin's new friend. Now, say what you want about the man, but Ada would never steal another man's girl; as long as he was aware of the relationship ahead of time. Still, his choices for enjoying the last night outside the yards were getting fewer and fewer. His sister was chatting up some new toy, this other man was in conversation with a pretty girl, and the previous object of his affections would get him beat with a ham-sized fist. Adamin sighed with his typical stage flair, seeming to shrink three sizes with the movement. He looked up to the stage, seeing her looking down at him with a puzzled expression. By the Light, she is pretty... His smile was suddenly back on his face. He knew how badly Del wanted this to be a night for them, a twin's last stand, if you will. A last night where one could get the other in trouble, and they could run away laughing, her slapping him on the back of the head, before giving her slightly younger brother a hug as soon as they were out of the immediate danger. So he turned the charm back on, again using those beautiful midnight blue eyes to their full effect, motioning for her to join them. "D'Ashan, just do me one favor, when the bull at the door leaves for this table, give me a bit of a warning." He ribbed the man playfully, tossing him a friendly smile. When he turned back to the stage, he was exuberant to see her apologizing, saying she'd be back again another night, and climbed down. Adamin's smile grew wider, again showing her a hint of perfect teeth, flattering her as she approached. To Ada's complete surprise, she got the first word in. "You’re three kinds of fool," her voice was light, her tone playful. Still, the twin knew she was right. "You know all about Black Bart, and you’re still chasing me?" Ada's answering chuckle had a musical note, "Well, I'm going to study at the Warder's Yards, didn't think now would be a good time to start being intimidated." She laughed; he laughed, it continued for a bit like that. She broke the usual, flirty conversation first. "The Yards, though. It's a shame." Ada motioned for her to continue. "Yeah, they'll ruin that pretty face of yours... Suppose that means I'll have to enjoy it while it’s here?" The man knew his cue, and let off another chime of laughter, "Suppose so," and leaned in for the kiss. It was at this moment that he felt himself being lifted into the air by his coat collar. "Oy there pretty boy." A baritone, big hands, strong as an Ox in mating season. Didn't take a sharp wit to know it was Black Bart. "What do ya' ken your doin' with ma' girl?" The singer, what was her name again... Ah! Right, Cassie, such a plain name for such beauty... Back to the present Ada! Yes, Cassie spoke up for him. "I'm not your 'girl' Bart! Now set Adamin down!" "Oh, I will..." Again, Ada knew his cue; his nimble hands drew the dagger at his side, and put it to its ghastly work. No, he didn't stab Bart, though someone undoubtedly should, he used it to cut open his coat and shirt, and promptly slipped out of the ruined garments, the dagger discarded for the maneuver. Ada came out of a roll, and stood with a flourish, having picked up the dagger half way through, and sheathed the blade. It was... a well practiced move. His temptation to take a bow was over ridden for the concern of his own immediate safety, as the big burly bouncer charged at him, much, to Adamin's amusement, like the bull he had been compared to in the younger man's mind. The agile twin dove to the side, enjoying the tendency of people to form a circle around combatants for its increased room to move. "Now now, come on... Bart, was it? I'm new to town, didn't know you had any claim to Cassie..." A blatant lie, but he hoped Bart didn't know that. "Her name is Cassandra!" He roared, advancing and throwing one of those previously mentioned Ham-haymakers. Ada jumped back, having barely missed being laid out. Damn her... gave me a pet name to start. This was never good when dealing with a particularly slow jealous bull; it implied a closeness that simply didn't serve the flirtatious newcomer. To put it simply, there was no chance of Ada talking himself out of this one, and after another roll, he tossed his twin a wink. It was an old gesture for the two. She'd know now why he got into this mess, and likely slap him twice for it. The short wink however, took a moment to long, and Adamin took a fist to the gut for his efforts, a fist that sent him flying back a couple feet. Winded, he still tried to scramble away, as the bigger man approached him, a malicious smile on his lips. This is going to hurt...
  8. Adamin was doing his part admirably well. He managed to give her his full attention without leering, or seeming obsessive. His smile was a slightly crooked, sly seductive grin, with a hint of tooth to show off his shining white teeth. Still, he knew it was his eyes that were winning her over. Midnight blue, almost black. Those eyes, eyes he had only ever seen among his siblings and father, promised so many things. Passion, experience, but most of all desire… A desire to please. He hardly noticed the other man at the table after he sat down, using him as a vessel to give her an off hand compliment. Only one thing shattered the trance that this woman had put him in. The voice of his sister. Always the charmer, Del. He turned from the singer, those eyes making another promise. I’ll be back in a moment. “Don’t mind her friend, a couple bad experiences on the road and a life with a wonderful brother like me as put her a bit off as to men.” Adamin chuckled, and patted the man on the back. “Now, Adela,” he used her full name, god forbid the man tried to use the pet names the siblings had developed for each other. She was armed after all… “Just give the guy a chance,” his eyes moved to return to the singer, meeting eyes with a man in a shining red cloak for but a moment. The man unnerved him slightly, and it took a half heart beat to get him back on the ball. “If he tries anything fresh, I’m sure you’ll give him the normal star treatment.” Another chuckle rolled off Ada’s tongue, an almost musical note. He turned his gaze back up to the singer, a hint of question now in those midnight blue eyes. Adamin didn’t like the way she smoothed her skirts. Ah… damn… From here he had two obvious choices. Those being rather to proceed and potentially having the time of his life for the last time in god knows how long, or to halt his advances and save himself a potential beating… He searched again for the man who had met his eyes, finding him; he breathed a sigh of relief. His eyes were neither seething with anger, nor giving him an icy death glare. In short, it wasn’t his girl. He decided to reach out, and mouthed a single word. Who? A simple nod to a rather large man at the door caused Adamin’s heart to sink. He turned his attention back to the singer, who was in the middle of a stirring song. By the light, she was beautiful… “Dearest sister, sorry to interrupt, but you remember that time you caught me with Rilke? At the inn a few years back.” It was a memorable night. She had caught them when ordering a room for herself, the inn keeper having chosen to show the pretty young girl the room himself. A kind older man, not trusting the local ruffians to leave her completely alone, he accompanied her for protection. Rilke was his daughter, and had taken a spare room with Adela’s twin… Adamin nodded to the bouncer with a sigh. It was going to be a long night.
  9. Hrm, I recently shut down a bio with white hair... but my grandfather actually had this condition from a traumatic birth, so in his memory, I'll stamp it. CC'd by CotS
  10. Dhjorn was not amused. This and every other dreadlord he had met here showed but a moment of shock... Never before had his own weaknesses been so apparent. He needed to cover that hole... To make up for his lack of a paralyzing gaze attack with his twin daggers. Then, when that gaze did choose to gift itself to him... Dhjorn almost smiled at the thought. Almost. "Good, Dreadling. Now let us begin, shall we?" Irritably, Dhjorn turned his head as the dreadlord spoke up. "Dhjorn, less banter. Move through basic sword forms." Sword Forms? The Fade felt a worm of hatred and confusion spread through it's pale chest. He'd never been instructed on the forms, his daggers lashed out by instinct, and hours a day of hard practice. "No, he would cut off his own foot if he tried even the most basic of forms, look, he can barely hold the daggers in his hands." To the Fade's sharp sight, it was true, though still a thin cover of his own lack of knowledge. His own daggers seemed to disappear as he approached Shadar. He gripped the young man's wrists tightly, letting him feel the unnatural strength corded within the Fade's tall, wiry frame. "Like this Human..." That snake-through-snow voice of his hissing into the cowl of the would-be assassin. He adjusted the man's grip, placing the thumb along the hilt, as opposed to wrapped around it, the tip bent slightly to rest against the hilt. "More power on a thrust, as well as a better guide for a slash," he explained. Despite his hatred, he would do his job. He was a servant of the Great Lord, as were these humans. As long as he was commanded to, he would aide them. The Myrddraal took a few steps back, his daggers again materializing in his hands, as if they'd always been there. "Now, come at me human, use that pathetic, frail body your whore mother gave to you, and try to strike me." Keeping true to the dreadlord's threats, he would not counter attack, only parry, instructing him on his mistakes after each blow. Though if the chance came, he would take the chance to embarrass the youth...
  11. Arcon watched carefully as Alliveer bundled the elements into the tight, useless spirals. The man's weaving was clumsy; very clumsy. Arcon nodded all the same, at the very least, he was getting the job done. As the new acolyte continued to weave, a sense of dread filled him as he continued to weave. That last spiral was degrading in odd ways as Arcon's student continued to over extend himself. It was forming a lightning weave. The dreadlord slashed the weave after it fell apart, seemingly shorted out by the addition of water to the already unstable base, and almost certainly saved his student's life. Though a spark had managed to strike down Alliveer, rendering him unconscious. Amused, Arcon stood over Alliveer until he woke up, shielding him. "You over-extended yourself. Let it be a lesson for you. Never strive further than your abilities can carry you. Now, give me your arm." The dreadlord took the proffered arm, and wove a light healing into the scarred flesh. If he extended himself, he might have been able to completely erase the wound, but Arcon Dadread chose not too. He'd let the man carry the mark, to show him his place, a constant reminder of his failure. Just as Arcon bore two such scars, the pair meeting at the empty socket of his left eye. "Return to your rooms. This lesson is over. I will be sending other students of mine to teach you." Arcon gave Alliveer a cold smile, "Until we meet again, Acolyte." His job done, the dreadlord returned to his rooms. Terra had recently reached the rank of dreadlord... his plans were coming together.
  12. Adamin's scowl never quite left his face at his sister's comment. She'd pay for that, that much she could be sure of. "Another girl, sis? Fiona was a perfectly suitable one, wide hips... pouty lips..." His eyes glazed over a bit as he remembered her, and came crashing back to reality as his mind came to their abrupt departure. He grumbled the entire time as his sister led the way into the Tavern proper. Immediately he fell in love with the place. It was well lit for one; a change of place compared to the dingy places that he and his sister had stayed on the road. He hoped it meant that the... problems he encountered out there would be left there. If one more man reached for his sister like that... Adamin turned himself back to this surroundings, admiring the smoky atmosphere, and the sound of voracious laughing. He grinned squarely at his sister, who complimented it with a groan as they both noticed the small stage. A beautiful girl was singing in a stunning soprano over the sound of the men's laughter. They both knew what that meant; Adamin had to have her. "Hey Del, you get the drinks, I'll find us a table." The twinkle in his eye confirmed it; it'd be one near center stage if he could manage it. His compact, nimble form weaved easily through the crowd as he set out on his chosen task. He was in luck; the table directly in front of the beauty was open. He promptly took it, gazing up at her with a twinkle in his nearly black eyes, and a grin on his lips. She smiled back, and Adamin set out to wait, flirting without words until she chose to descend from the stage and join him. Hearing some curses behind him, he knew his sister was on her way through the crowd. A private joke flared through his mind; he seemed to have inherited the femininity of the pair, shown through his light feet and long nimble fingers, while she took after the father. The fact that despite the gender difference, they were almost of height, only served to aide the joke. When his sister did finally find his table, he turned his disarming grin upon her. "So glad you could join me, Del. Oh, and you brought drinks!" He took it from her hand and tapped her glass, "Thanks, it was brutal getting up here, really made me parched." He chuckled, preparing to dodge a mug...
  13. Arcon held a smile in check as Shad spoke to the fade. Good, he will learn control easily enough… Though in truth, the glee was from another source; he loved how the Fade’s pride was wounded at not forcing Shadar to cower in his presence. It was a site the dreadlord thought he would relish for years to come. “Good, now that you have introduced yourselves. I will set the rules, Dhjon. You hurt him in any severe way, and I’ll find ways to make even you wide eyed.” His voice was cool as he delivered the threat; businesslike, efficient. He found it had the greatest effect when he was effectively threatening to take someone’s life. Though the tone and words had another reason, as most of Arcon’s actions did. It was meant to reassure Shadar; Arcon really did have his best interests at heart, and the Fade’s impromptu introduction was not a part of the plan. He needed his loyalty, much to Arcon’s shame, for many reasons. “Apart from that, I want it clean on both ends. Simple instruction, basic sword forms that can be adapted to dagger use, footing, stances, the works. I want him to leave here prepared for further instruction.” Again he drilled the fade, letting Shad know that he cared little of the reverse. If by some miracle his favored apprentice managed to slice this maggot-fleshed menace, Arcon thought the world would be just that much better. “Now, I’ll leave you to your instruction.” Arcon stepped back, standing with his hand on the hilt of his longsword, almost daring the Fade to make a move. He was confident that even without the power; he was a match in blade for this one. With it, he’d tear him apart… --- Dhjorn found himself resenting this particular dreadlord above all others. His impudence was astonishing, the way he spoke, and moved. He should have respect for one who would later be able to walk into his room from a mile away and slit his throat… Still, what bothered him most was the weakness he was displaying. Shadar was looking him in the ‘eye’ without batting a lash, he knew the fear was doing its work, but somehow this wretch resisted it almost perfectly. It urked the Fade, his new found racism offended by an initiate not fleeing in terror before him, despite the fact that he was only a Fadeling. His black clad chest moved almost imperceptibly as he took a steadying breath, throwing all this useless emotion to the wind. He drew his other dagger, and began to speak to his opponent, no, his ‘student’. “Well, let me see Adept Al’Niende. Do you have any skill, or will I be telling you that the pointy end is bad?” The Fade couldn’t resist the jab. “Since you carry hidden weapons, I assume you at least don’t draw blood when you draw them? Though I could be wrong…” He waited for the goaded man to respond, keeping a wary eye upon the dreadlord… He did not like the relaxed way he held his sword…
  14. Arcon had shielded Alliveer again. Why? A few reasons. The increased pace of their class meant that the boy was not getting the practice time at seizing Saidin that most required, this was a way of helping to correct that issue. Secondly, he deeply enjoyed cutting this pompous rat off from the source, his reactions were priceless. Which led into the third reasons; he'd need to learn control if he was to become useful. "Very good Alliveer. You've correctly identified every element, with only minimal assistance from me." Arcon released the shield from the man. "Seize Saidin, one more lesson and I'll be done with you for the day. Basic weaving. I don't think I'll be teaching you any actual weaves, just practice ones that are hard to make something explode with when you mess up." Arcon's grin came back into play, again probing the man for a reaction. "Take any two elements, and simply twist them together as so." He demonstrated, selecting air and fire, and spinning them together into a string of Saidin. It did absolutely nothing. "Weave as many of these as you can, alternating elements, and even throwing in more after you get the hang of it. I'll be watching to make sure you don't accidentally stumble upon something you could hurt yourself with." Again a chuckle. He was babying Alliveer, at least compared to the lessons he had given Shadar. He pushed that one every time, knowing he would take it simply because the dreadlord willed him to succeed. It was perfect, he had a literal cannon of Saidin, ready to wait in the shadows and do his bidding, and he even genuinely liked the man. His almost eerie silence, and desperate battles with his emotions appealing to the Carhien. He found himself gladly accepting the almost paternal bond they shared... Arcon snapped himself back to the present, giving little to no outward sign that his attention had shifted. "Well, begin already."
  15. Sereth cut the weave for amplification and turned to his student, ignoring the woman whom he was to test this day. "Mathis, you are my friend and housemate, and I value the time we spend together." His voice was oddly hard, given the words he spoke. "But let me make this clear, if I have been to gentle on you before. You are in the Black Tower. You are a potential Asha'man; but if you ever threaten my life again I will cut that potential short." Sereth's hard tone grew into granite as he spoke, and he left no doubt as to the sincerity of his words. Suddenly, he brightened. Not to his normal chipper self, but to the working, task oriented man that had developed given recent events. "Now, soldier, I want you to demonstrate what your sister is up against. I want platforms built up around the walls, and I want fresh walls strewn out. We'll be building a multi level maze here, I have a rough plan, but its open to improv." His instructions done, Sereth Rose up even higher earthen walls, pulling out shelves from the mounds, and punching in holes for her to dive or crawl through. He chose to jump through the course himself where he could, not wanting to waste the energy forming a gateway. He did his best to work around Mathis' work, updating the schematics in his head every time the man changed the course. Sereth made sure to include ten-foot plus gaps, holes he knew he'd have to sit and ponder about to get body through, and plenty of higher elevated decks from which he could channel at the poor lass. Finally, after a good twenty minutes of excruciating channeling, Sereth stood above the entrance of his maze, and called for Mathis to join him on a lower deck. From within his coat pocket he pulled a long strip of jerky, and munched happily on it. He'd need to keep his strength up; Creator knows he'd probably done too much of the set up too close to the main event. So what was the end result? Sereth sitting atop of a precariously perched fourth story of risen earth, walls only as thick as his study of architecture said that he could get away with. Filled with several levels of pitfalls, observation decks, and walls, lots and lots of walls. He did his damnedest to make sure that she would almost always be within sight, while at the same time keeping her too busy on the path ahead to worry about keeping an eye on him. The way she held her sword though... Sereth took a steadying breath. "Thera, it’s ready. Begin when you are ready." Sereth pulled out another stick of jerky, throwing it down to his young friend. It was going to be a test... for all of them.
  16. Alright, alls well and its beautifully written. CC'd by CotS.
  17. Dhjorn turned his piercing gaze upon his instructor, soothing himself over being ordered around. You are hear to learn, whatever nuances of her personality you will have to put up with for now... The end result will be worth it. These thoughts in mind, he sat cross legged. His cloak was pulled aside by the movement, revealing the dyed black trolloc leather he wore underneath. It was taken from those he and Calaun had slain. He moved his thoughts back to the present; thoughts of Calaun could only distract him from the task at hand. At her first words, a tremor of amusement swept through him. "I doubt I'll be able to perform your first command, Shar Mahdi." It was the closest thing to a joke he had ever uttered in his short life. Then he fell into step, forming the flame in his mind. He fed these new emotions into this flame. It was a slow process. Though what he felt was mild compared to humans, each was a new experience for him, he had no background from which to deal with them. Eventually however, he accomplished the task, and floated within what his teacher had labeled the Void. It was liberating, being without the burden of emotion. "Test my will then, Shar Mahdi." Their was no perceptible change in his voice.
  18. Arcon walked into the small room, a soft grin on his lips. "Greetings Shadar. I trust that everything is well?" Taking the chair opposite the younger man, Arcon met his student's eyes. "As I've told you, this won't be a typical class, one of several different ones I plan on teaching you now that you have earned a bit of responsibility, and can study Saidin without my constant guidance." He chuckled; there wasn't an acolyte in the fortress that stuck to that rule. Every dreadlord knew it, after all, they were once young. They remembered what it was like to have this new power shown to them... "This will be an introductory class in the use of weapons. The daggers on your person won't just be for show after today; those admittedly I wouldn't go warder hunting without the power." Another soft chuckle from the Dreadlord. "For today, I will be shielding you from Saidin." He had been in the habit of warning Shad since his adept test, it had changed him. He had always had strong emotion, though so far suppressed it took all of his Carhienen skill to read the man. Now though... it had come to the surface, and he liked to avoid startling the volatile man. That done, Arcon did as promised and shielded Shadar, and stood. "There is another purpose to this class however..." Arcon caught a shadow detaching itself from the wall out of the corner of his eye. "As you know, we are dreadlords, and we are the leaders of shadowspawn. Generals to the lieutenants of the Myrddraal and foot soldiers of the Trollocs. You need contact with them, and so I have summoned..." Arcon nearly winced as the black cloaked man-shaped shadow put a shining steel dagger under Shadar's throat. "A Myrddraal, though a young one. A Fadeling its called, Dhjorn is it's name." Arcon's voice grew cold as he looked at the half-man. He had experienced their ilk before, and the experience had left a bad taste in his mouth. He kept his hand upon his weapon, confident he could slay the beat if it came down to it. "Remove the dagger Dhjorn, and Shad, stand, and face your instructor. I will be watching over you for the duration of the class. Introduce yourselves." Truth be told their was a whole other matter that had prompted this decision. He needed to test the depth of Shadar's fear, see how he would react in the face of it. The man would never show it here, not when he knew the Peace of the Shadow protected him. A Fade on the other hand, had its ways of drawing it out, even a youthful one such as Dhjorn... --- Dhjorn was not pleased. He had been cooped up in this loathsome Fortress for to long, the itch of channeling a constant bother to him, distracting him from his plans. He had found documents, and confirmed it with Dreadlords of an agency within the shadow. One titled the Shar Mahdi, and of the woman who bore that title. Cari Al'Caar... He desperately wanted to set out and meet her, but no. He was to teach these runts what he knew of dagger play instead. This Arcon Dadread was one of the worst, his oiled tones putting up a front of respect as he requested his services... Though the cool undertones, that icy threat mixed with distaste for he and his kind was evident to the young Fade. He had heard from Calaun that this one was not long in the full ranks of the shadow, and had attended her class upon their race. After the initial shock, he had performed well. Still, if she was to be believed he was spiteful, and needed to prove his superiority... He broke himself from the reverie, and did as he was instructed. "Fadeling Dhjorn of the Dhjin'nen." His voice was that of a snake slithering through loose packed snow. At once sickening and icy. He had heard that this Shadar had once been nearly without emotion, and the thought brought a small worm of excitement even to his dead heart. His gaze would seek out the truth of that matter. And that was the test, he sensed. How would the human stand up being face to face with a Myrddraal? It was a question that needed to be answered quickly, and so, he turned his eyeless face upon Shadar, meeting his eyes with his own pallid skin...
  19. Arcon's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Let me tell you something, Alliveer. Learn to control that temper of yours." Arcon slammed the shield in place, cutting off the younger man from the source. "Or you will expose yourself to one of two things. You will goad those who hold power over you to act against you, or you will be goaded into giving up your own power." As if it never happened, the relaxed smile slipped back into place on his well groomed, if skeletal, features. "Now," the dreadlord dropped the shield, "Seize Saidin again. Standard procedure is for you to seize and release until you do it at will, and never fail. Quite frankly I don't have time for that." He had experimented once like this, and despite his misgivings towards this power hungry whelp, he had a good feeling that he could push this one as well. "So we are going to skip a step or two, and push you straight into channeling. Try not to kill yourself, it is a good bit of paperwork if you die under my watch." Arcon widened his grin, again goading Alliveer. "Now, you've been holding Saidin long enough, you should be able to tell that it has several tributaries feeding that molten chill you are experiencing. These are the five elements. All I want you to do, is focus on one, grab hold of it, and extend it outwards. Don't try to do anything with it, just pull it out from the main current." Arcon wove a series of cutting weaves, as well as another shield; he had been attacked before. "The elements are fire, air, water, earth, and spirit. Try to tell me which each one is, and which are easier to draw. We won't stop until you've correctly identified all five. Begin."
  20. Arcon nodded. Well, he doesn't appear to be completely helpless. "This next step is a bit trickier. Inside the void, there should be a light, a bit of a sickly light, but you can tell its radiance all the same." Arcon held back a smile. There, he had warned the child of the taint. Whatever happened next would be done of his own initiative. "This is Saidin, the male half of the True Source. What you need to do is extend your consciousness towards it, and seize hold of it for all your worth. I will warn you now. Women surrender to Saidar, and let it flow through them. That is not the case with us men... It will fight you, and if it wins, you will die or be burned out, never to channel again." Arcon chuckled, "And I believe your usefulness will drop a good bit if that happens." For his own part, Arcon wove a powerful shield, readying it to slam into place on his young student. He himself had needed to be shielded on his first attempt, not that he would admit it to anyone. "Begin Alliveer."
  21. Sereth released the source as the dragon stood, and berated Covai. Every moral fiber in him screamed that the Dragon was wrong, that dying for a cause was a noble death. The philosopher, and more so the emerging tactician were forced to agree with their savior. Still, something about the cold dismissal of their battle, and the holes in their abilities rankled to Sereth. This is a hard man... What will life be like when the entire world mobilizes for war under his banner? The thought didn't set well with the Asha'man. When the Dragon opened the doors, he did what all those present did, and followed the Legend down the halls to the Heart of the Stone. Despite all that happened, a thread of excitement wormed its way deep into the man. To see all the place where so much had happened, the resting place of Callandor, what was reported to be the most powerful Sa'Angreal for males. Where a Forsaken fell, and the Dragon embraced his destiny... It took the void to keep a shiver from crawling down his spine. The dragon approached the sword, and seized Saidin. Immediately Sereth knew just how outclassed he was. He wove all five elements effortlessly, seeming to unbind weaves that Sereth didn't know were there. But if the key was any indication as to the lock... Suddenly he felt very foolish at seizing Saidin in front of the man. The Dragon opened a skimming platform, and waved them in. Keeping a conscious eye on Callandor, Sereth took the initiative and stepped through the hole in reality.
  22. Darial took his assignment with a grin. Hurt him, eh? Just don't kill him... Darial entered the small room, and looked at the rather large man who stood before him. The man was from Illian, judging from the mustaches. "And who do..." Darial cut him off with a flow of air, wrapping him in the stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of the man. The mutt chuckled, and spoke with a horrible illianer accent. "I do believe I be the one who'll be asking the questions." Another blow of air knocked him into the chair provided, and Darial wove bands of ice around the man, modifying the sword weave he had been taught. He expected a wince, or at the very least a shiver, but the man stared at him with proud eyes, unblinking. Be glad I'm forbidden to maim you, you arrogant bastard! "I suppose you've been briefed. It is my job to retrieve a parcel of information from you. If you'd be so kind as to turn it over to me...[/i] The other man laughed in his face. A frosted glaze spread over the border of the void in response. "Oh my... You do be as arrogant as they said you'd be. Pompous mutt!" Slit eyes grew narrow, and Darial added another band around the man's mouth. Darial simply stood there for a while, staring at the man who'd insulted him so. He was proud of his mixed heritage, despite the hell it had caused him growing up. Will no one leave it alone! "Southerners. I'm really beginning to hate you filthy, sweating pigs. You sit in your homes, trying desperately to ward yourselves from the heat, ignoring the smell of rotting fish. All the while not dreaming of the the harsh realities of the north. Allow me to show you a few, and then we'll talk." Darial drew deeply on Saidin, using spirit to draw away the heat from the room, putting it in the stones. Slowly the temperature began to fall. "Your coldest winter is nothing to a fall in Saldea... Oh, and the winds!" He wove gusts of air, each driving the chill deep into the now shivering man. He continued to draw the heat, until the water forming from the melting bands of ice refroze, and he was forced to weave a ward around himself, heating it as he was shown. He wove spirit into the man, the weakened form of sleep he could perform, perpetuating the drowsiness from the chill. "Careful... if you fall asleep, the cold claims you." Darial watched as the proud eyes drooped, a touch of fear finally crawling into them. "Not to mention the other things... Horrible things." Bracing himself, he wove the elements to form a black shape in the corner, roughly manshaped. It was supposed to be a perfect replica of a Half-man. Still, to a friend of the dark, who'd never seen one of the Eyeless, and was under the effects of the sleep weave and biting chill... Darial laughed, a cold biting sound, and sliced off the band over the man's mouth. "Now tell me, what was this little piece of information?" The man's answer was immediate, if stuttered. "I... I will learn to respect... my superiors, and..." He steadied himself, "And let go of my spite, lest I be left in the hands of the dreadlords, powerless." Darial nearly lost his grip on the power at the man's words. The Saldean turned at the sound of laughter behind him, and saw the ice melt in a wave of fire, a gentle heating weave placed upon the victim. Michael stared at Darial, "Good job Darial Da'Shan. Return the stone to me, and you may return to your rooms." Without mouthing a word, he handed the small rock over, and back peddled out of the room, thinking of the Illianer's words. Despite the hour, when he finally reached his room, he found it difficult to get to sleep...
  23. Darial chided at Arcon's words... though they made sense. He played to his opponent's strengths, ignoring his own in the attempt. He took a steadying breath, and continued to listen. Dismay filled him as he realized that there was one more challenge... Exhaustion warred with his desire to best Shadar. Maybe he could just throw the match... No! He chastised himself, the saldean would never give into a southern pig like Shadar Al'Niende! Ice formed around the void, the cold rage giving him a focus that could compete with the void on a bad day. Arcon signaled the start, and immediately he was put on the defensive. He moved to slice both weaves, and nearly missed the third in the attempt. He is learning to feint. Another layer of chill found itself in Darial's bones... Though panting, he sliced the shield, having learned better than to try to compete with power. Still, the other man's reserves seemed to be just a hair more full than his own. He needed to sap the man's strength. Put him in an element that he could deal with, but Shadar wouldn't. A cold smile spread over his lips. Perfect. Darial kept a single cutting weave active, and wove spirit, water, and air. Each lowered the temperature in its own way. The spirit drawing it away, water and air both chilling by more nautural effects. He focused the effect around Shadar, every time the weave was sliced he reformed it, and quickly sliced his opponent's own attempt to weave heat. Ice started to form in the courtyard, coating the flowers with a glossy shine. It was a Saldean Spring, and as the cold settled in, it was a Ghealaden winter. Finally the man's rage broke, and he wove harshly, forming a ring of flame that dwarfed anything Darial could do. The mutt didn't bother cutting it, or even fighting it. Instead, he split his flows. First, a concussive blast of air opened up a hole in the ring of fire... and before it could close, a simple ball of ice slammed through, striking Shadar in the skull. The fire stopped, and Darial fell to his knees, breathing heavily. Unrbidled joy spread over his thin red lips, as with a last bit of effort, he wove a shield onto his uncouncious foe... "I win, Southerner." --- Arcon looked over his two comatose students, allowing a grin to spread over his grimly handsome features... Well well, that was entertaining. Seizing Saidin, he wove a touch of healing onto Shadar, stopping the bleeding from the hailstone that had robbed from him his consciousness. Turning his attention to the Saldean, he laughed. The mutt still had a smile on his face. I will have to approach this one again... Arcon drew deeply upon the angreal in his pocket, and wove twin stretchers of air for the two. He took each to their rooms, dropping off Darial first. He wove water to form a chunk of ice, and a ward with spirit and fire to keep the heat from touching it. With an air razor, he chiseled in the words, We will be in touch. He stained them with a bit of his own blood, taken at the point of his dagger. He dropped off his favored student shortly afterwards, and settled into the chair across the room. For all his lack of emotions, the black cloaked man had a sensitive side. He had been beaten and abused, until finally he lashed out against his abuser. Arcon couldn't have that, and as such, he waited for Shadar to wake up, to tell him that he had performed wonderfully, to watch over him. As his father always told him, you catch more bees with honey than vinegar.
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