Roast trolloc, Lurk stew, jumara-kabobs ... good stuff.

Settled comfortably against his tree, Daevis rolled his eyse at the sword being brandished at him.  "Put that away.  You know very well that it's useless to threaten me with it.  And I didn't follow you.  You simply stumbled into the place I was watching from."  Close enough to the truth.  He'd rather not tell her that he could point to her with his eyes closed for the next few days.  Women were so touchy about such things.

"I'm guessing your companions are behind that," observed Daevis, gesturing toward the village which seemed unusually busy for the late hour.  "The town is in an uproar over something.  And you were going to ... what?  Sneak in and free your friends?"  He laughed softly.  "I have a problem with letting people I've just healed run off and get themselves killed."

You might get more bites if you told someone how this encounter will end.  Which side calls the retreat first? 

Looks good.

*BT STAMP*

Listening thoughtfully, Arath considered what Skechid told him.  Strange that the man no longer wanted part of healing others.  By all accounts, the man had been very good at it.  Though he was correct in his assumption that a new generation of healers had come up.  It did raise the question of what to do with him though.

"To start, I want you to reacquaint yourself with the Tower grounds, and the Asha'man.  I'm sure things have changed quite drastically in your absence.  Even after losses in Shienar we have well over a thousand men here.  More pour in every week.  Many of them have been trained hearing the legends of the previous leaders.  Ragnar, Andar, Koras ... I've even heard one or two about yourself in the infirmary.  You can do much to strengthen moral.  And a man of your experience would be invaluable on the training grounds."

Arath rubbed at his chin for a moment.  "I'll need to speak with the rest of the Storm Leaders about your rank, but at this time there are no openings on the Council.  You'll likely be returned to the rank of Asha'man, though if you're willing you will probably be first for consideration should a spot open up."

OOC:  11?  7 Storm and 14 Attack Leaders ... :D

"You'll have your chance to present this soon enough.  The Council does meet as often as we can.  The Storm Leaders at least.  And we DO have a leader.  Although there is no M'Hael exactly, the Council reports directly to the Lord Dragon.  We do as he commands, which is more than can be said for what happened under Brent's reign."

Arath leaned back into his chair and rubbed his eyes.  "We know the Last Battle is coming.  We fought the opening blows in Shienar, and we were woefully unprepared.  Two borderland nations fell because of it.  Do you have any idea what kind of force would be necessary to slaughter a full hundred of our men?  It took the dreadlords less than half an hour to do just that.  The circles are what killed us.  Circles are why we need the White Tower.

"Right now, the plan is to foster cooperation and trust between the two towers.  Learn how to fight alongside each other rather than against one another.  Try to regain some of what has been lost for so long.  Bonding was the best way to achieve this quickly, even if many on either side don't like it.  I still don't know what the Aes Sedai are hoping to get out of the deal, but the Red Ajah was quick to offer up one of their own Sitter's to be bonded by one of us."  Arath shook his head.  It still didn't make sense to him, but he didn't believe they had an immediate need to worry about the Reds.  

"As for what you can do, well ... you probably know far better than I do.  What exactly was it you did before you left?"

Hey!  What do you mean I haven't responded yet.  I posted about ... 6 hours ago.

Arath quickly glanced over the scroll Skechid had unrolled before him.  It was ... thorough.  Though events occuring inside the Black Tower itself were mostly absent, it gave a decent sketch of what was occuring in the rest of the world.  It was all quite impressive.  Especially his knowledge of events with the White Tower.  "You're remarkably well informed Skechid.  No wonder the M'Hael's used you as they did.  Burn me if things wouldn't have been different these last few weeks if Brent had only been as wise.  I suspect he only asked for a tiny fraction of what you had to offer him."  And the light blinded fool had probably passed on only a fraction of what he recieved.  As far as Arath and the others had been able to determine, Brent had no spy network of his own.  He'd led the Black Tower blindly right up until his death.

"We're more than happy to have you back with us.  And if you're willing I would like you to resume your position as Spymaster."  Arath considered the scroll for a moment, then added, "Although maybe you should be caught up on events within the Tower first.  It might help fill in the few gaps here."

For the next several minutes, Arath explained what had been happening at the Farm.  The disasterous assault on the shadow's forces in Shienar.  Covai's meeting with the Dragon, and Jarron's subsequent visit to the Farm.  The Dragon's ultimatum to make binding peace with the Aes Sedai.  Brent's insanity, and death at the hands of Arath and Covai, and the formation of the Guardian Council, the group of seven Storm Leaders and fourteen Attack Leaders who now governed the Black Tower.

"So, there is no more M'Hael position," Arath concluded.  "The closest thing we have is Covai, but don't let him hear you say so.  He's adamant that he not be treated above the rest of us, even if the other Storm Leaders defer to him a little."  Looking back down at the scroll, Arath grinned.  "So how much of this did you already know?  And do you have any questions?"

Hmmm ... as long as we're not smashing up Arath's office, I'm good with anything.

Your turn, by the way.

Arath stifled a yawn as he began to pack away the various projects strewn over the desk in his office.  He should have gone to bed hours past, but he'd never been good at listening to his internal clock.  Besides, he could let himself sleep in a little.  He didn't have any responsibilities in the morning.  

In a surprisingly short time, all the various papers were filed away in whatever place seemed appropriate, and most of the ter'angreal he had been tinkering with had been stowed away.  Turning the last one over in his hands, Arath's mind began to wander again.  Maybe if he laced a touch of Earth into the Spirit matrix, it might stabilize the effects of-

A knock at the door drew him out of his contemplations.  Surpressing another yawn, he unceremoniously dumped the half finished ter'angreal into the drawer with the rest of them.  Tomorrow.  "Come," he called out as he siezed Saidin and quickly warded the drawer.  He supposed it was dangerous to channel so near the half finished things, but so far it hadn't hurt him.

A young dedicated poked his head around the corner of the door.  "Storm Leader?  There is a man here wanting to see the M'Hael.  An Asha'man Skechid Teobon.  He's dressed as a Storm Leader ..."

Arath blinked in surprise.  It had been a very long time since he had seen Skechid.  A very long time since anyone had seen him.  "Very well, send him in."  Making one last check on his ward, Arath released Saidin and relaxed back into his seat.  A few moments later the door swung open the rest of the way and the one time Storm Leader walked in.  Arath examined his guest for a moment.  It did indeed appear to be Skechid.  "Well then," Arath said in a friendly tone.  "What brings you back here after all this time?"

Yeah, it's that time of the year again.  Go make your votes on the illustrious Empy awards.  Make sure you fill in all the RP categories at the very least :D

The One and Only Empy's

Sure thing.  Lets stir things up a bit.

Posted your bio just a little bit ago, so you're ready to go. 

Go forth and cause mayhem.

Character Name: Skechid Aran Teobon

Nationality: Cairhienin

Age: 21

Physical Characteristic:  Lean and athletic body. Exceptionally tall for a Cairhienin, about 6'. Dark, almost-black straight haired and dark-brown eyed. Fair and smooth skinned. Baby face without any trace of facial hair. Not very handsome, but attractive in a relatively pleasant way.

Physical Description: Has a scar running the length of arm, from a fall during hunting. Well groomed, like a typical High Seat Lord.

Personal History:  The blood of the House of Teobon ran strong. For three generations, the House had stood on its pinnacle, overlooking the city. Steeped in Daes Dae'mar, Cairhien was no place for the foolish, even less so for the inexperienced. House Teobon had once had its humble beginings, but that had long been passed off as history. The reckoning of its reputation could be seen in the impressive guestlist that had been showcased as the who's-who of the then-society. For years, the High Seat of house Teobon had ruled the other Houses. Sometime pitting one against the other, sometimes relying on the pure force of will and prestige to stand it's grounds as the strongest of the Houses.

It was a night of nights. The grounds shimmered with the glow of a thousand candles. Although the invite had called for solemnity, who could have resisted the charms of the nights. A feast was held only once every long while, and an opportunity to be invited to a celebration at the manor of House Teobon, not even the rudest of guests could refuse. It was a night of nights indeed. For that night, the forth generation of Lord Teobons was to be born. Or so the physician had said. To be timed perfectly, he had foretold as physicians do, with the last night of the winter solstice. And indeed, it seemed to befit the unborn child to be born into festivities. Befitting indeed, for the next High Seat. Gifts to lavish his first sight of the world, the sweetest perfumes and the most beautiful maidens beside him. It was all to be perfect. It had to be perfect.

High Seat Armandauss stared at the clock on the wall. His eyes drifting first from the candle then to the painting beside it. His wife's portrait was a sorry representaton of her. Lady Arimella Teobon's beauty while royal in the painting, set hearts pounding in real life. Armandauss Teobon prayed a quick prayer for her safety. he would never be able to live without her. And a child. That set his heart apounding. He was to be a father. He had never even come close to imagining how it felt like to be a father. The sensations ran through his head. It was a nauseating thing to wait. But that was all he could do for now. Wait.

The house seemed to shush for just the bare second before a baby's first cries filled the night with cheering and much congratulations. As Armandauss Teobon looked down at the bloody bundle that had been brought before him, he smiled. He seldom smiled, but when he did it made him look boyish again.

"I shall name him... Skechid Aran Teobon." He touched his finger first to his forehead then to the baby's, christening the baby. He smiled tenderly as the little thing gurgled slightly and then closed its eyes. Armandauss nodded and kissed his child, then handed it abck to the wetnurse. He looked into the bedroom to see his wife's smile. Then she too closed her eyes and fell asleep.

For the first time in his life, Arimandauss felt true joy. Honest joy. And for the first time in his life, he was a father.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That had been 17 years ago. At the age of 19, Skechid had been proclaimed the High Seat of the magnificent house. Three tutors constantly by his side. One to teach the ways of the wild, one to teach the ways of world, the third to teach him the most timportant subject of all, the ways of the nobles. To the delight and surprise of many, the boy had been far more intelligent than most. Daes Dae'mar being his particular forte. It had been amazing that as a child, he had been one of his father's sharpest counsellors, many a time seeing things form a perspective most failed to notice.

He loved the ways of the world as well. Loving tracking and learning about medical properties of wild plants. And how to make the best meats taste the best after much time of stewing. With the right roots and leaves, even the roughest meats could turn out to be irrisistable. It worried Skechid not whenever he saw anyone who was sick or unwell. He had learnt how to make tinctures and poultices. It was a childish fantasy of his to be a healer some day. And it didn't seem so impossible after all.

As a Noble, he was well mannered and kind. A heart of gold, but a mind that sometimes was overly shrewd for his own good. Of course, growing up a Noble, he knew much of the ways of the Nobles. The ways of handling a sword. Horses loved him and his little titbits. In his own way, Skechid learned to be well loved by many things. And many people.

He had not been very handsome, merely pleasantly attractive, lean and athletic was his body. Exceptionally tall for a Cairhienin, dark haired and dark eyed. His skin was fair, a fact he hated. He wished he could have been born dark skinned and slightly beefier. But one had to live with what one had. And then came the introduction of women to his life. They seemed to love him. Women were the one thing he had headaches understanding. But Daes Dae'mar required civility towards them. Skechid was always civil. And so that was that.

He never understood the concept of destiny, making friends dozens by the dozens, never for once caring if any were "meant for him". In life's journey, one must learn to make do. And that was what Skechid did everyday. With a smile he woke up each day. And everynight, he thank the Creator for the day, smiled and then slept. He is fairly simple in appearance. So many think so. But they'd be wrong. For he never follows what most think of as right, nor does he meddle as a delegate of the Dark. He does what he wants, and more often than not, that has the best results.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skechie eventualy entered the Black Tower at the age of 26, having been discovered by the False Dragon Dramon as being able to channel. His first task was to set up a full Eyes and Ears system for the Ashaman. Drawing from the existing system he had for his House, he soon rose to the rank of Storm Leader, becoming one of th most respected and trusted members of the Tower.

Personally, he hated training. Exploding things and making things burn irritated him to no end, for he had always liked to do things indirectly. Either through Daes Dae'mar or by letting things happen. It was six months into his training that he met the second person that would feature prominently in his Tower life. Dalinarius Trachaanshield was one of his best friends, instantly becoming partners in crime in the Black Tower. Both of them were promoted to Dedicated on the same day, and to Ashaman within weeks of each other. But something more important held them together. Their love for the ancient weavings of Healing.

Skechid had always found an aptitude for Healing. As to Dali. Both worked miracles on the Farm, often bringing trainees almost from the brink of death and without the effects of normal Healing. They were both considered valuable assets and were amongst the first few induced into the Inner Council when Dramon set it up. That was a proud, but also sad day for Skechid. For the first time, he found his freedom curtailed. On top of that, each member of the Council had his movements noted and constantly under surveillance. As the Spy Master of the Black Tower, it became his duty to report he movements of his colleagues to Dramon, a task he found personally vile. This also drew him away from his other friends. It was difficult being friends with someone who was responsible for spying on you.

The Council was eventually disbanded, but it came too late for Skechid. He was pretty much spurned by the other Storm Leaders and Council members. Just as well that Dramon was eventually declared to be a False Dragon and the Dragon Reborn took over, it gave Skechid leeway to take a sabbatical.

Having sworn himself to the Dragon Reborn, Skechid took off into the world. Mingling amongst Nobility and feeling right at home in the usual intrigues and manipulations of the Houses. He dedicated his time to the growth of his House, once again bringing to the pinnacle of the Cairhienin Houses. He still threaded the Eyes and Ears of the Black Tower to his means and wrote periodic reports to the Dragon reborn, as was asked of him. But with each of his old friends from the Black Tower dying one after another, either due to war or to the Taint, his heart froze harder and harder, until he no longer felt emotions.

His last straw came when he heard that Dalinarius had fallen. That was the day his heart died, and he no longer lived. He breathed and moved, but he no longer felt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's happening." The man spoke as he bowed.

Skechid stared out of the window. Motionless.

"My Lord?"

"Leave me, Taelondain." Skechid's voice sent shivers down the man's spine.

"Yes, my Lord." Taelondain took a deep breath, bowed and again and almost ran out of the room.

"Taelondain?" Taelondain's feet stopped short of the door and he turned.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Pack my things." Skechid turned back to look outside the window, as Taelondian nodded once more and left.

So Tar'mon Gai'don was finally here. Signs were everywhere. And his Eyes and Ears had reported far too much happening. Skechid would have to come out of seclusion after all. Far sooner than he had hoped. He had hoped it would happen after his death. But it had come too soon. He would have to get off his behind then. Work to be done. Duty called. Heavier than a mountain. Even if it meant he would have to return to the Black Tower again. It would probably not be the Tower he knew. But it was a Tower he belonged to nonetheless.

Perhaps he would die. Perhaps this time he would be at the frontline. He took a deep breath, and nodded. He would do that, yes. He had long given up the Talent of Healing, letting the loved oes around him die rather than touch them with the Taint. After all, he knew that life would not be easy had they survived. And more often than not, this was true. "They would have their own Healers now." He muttered aloud. "Probably stronger and more skilled than I."

Lifting his hand he pointed at the fireplace and seized Saidin. As the pain and life filled him, he wove Fire and Air. Skechid's eyes never unfroze as the fireplace exploded in a fireball, sending smoke boiling into the sky.

Rochel wisely held her tongue as Pia began to show her the next weave.  She'd been about to ask just how old Pia was, as if considering the offer, but knew that it would not end well.  The Mistress of Novices had already given her far more leeway than most other Aes Sedai would have, and it was best not to press her luck.  At least not too much further.

Observing carefully, Rochel watched the threads of air and water meticulously woven together, fighting to maintain concentration on yet another useless weave.  As the finishing touches of spirit were added, the weave spun into a tiny whirlwind before quickly vanishing.  Surpressing a sigh, she obediently watched a second time before embracing Saidar herself.

"Now, you try, and once you have managed it I would like you to give me one reason why you should learn that weave." Rochel wanted nothing more than to slap that grin off of Pia's face, but knew she would spend the next year howling if she did.  So she settled for a mean little glare, before jumping into the weave.  After a failed first attempt which somehow dropped a considerable amount of water on the floor and all over her skirt, Rochel managed to duplicate the little whirlwind.  Now came the hard part.  After a few moments of silent thought, Rochel gave her answer.

"Well, if I ever am raised to the shawl, I imagine that I'll somehow end up teaching these weaves to almost every Accepted in the Tower.  And it simply wouldn't do for a Sister to look foolish in front of an initiate."  There.  Sufficiently defiant enough to suit her own purposes, and probably true enough that Pia wouldn't be able to deny it.

I'd love to join in, but what kind of timeline are we talking about for the inn's opening?  A couple years before the main storyline?  A couple months?  Present day?  That sort of determines whether or not I'm bringing my Accepted to the party, or my Storm Leader.

Arath resisted the urge to look over his shoulder as he made his way down a corridor of the White Tower.  Ever since the accidental encounter he had had with the Green Sitter, things had been ... strange.  The Reds had given the Asha'man a little more freedom to move around the tower now and it appeared that every Aes Sedai and her mother knew about the Asha'man.  Something had happened, though burn him if any of the Reds would tell him.  Every time he came close to the subject with any of them they simply looked down their nose or raised an eyebrow.  As if that should tell him everything.  Or maybe as though it was his fault.  Bloody Aes Sedai.

That wasn't the half of it though, not for Arath anyway.  With the new found freedom to explore more of the White Tower and it's grounds, he also found himself ... not followed exactly, but constantly being watched.  Every corner he turned found himself looking at at least one Aes Sedai whom he couldn't recognize from the Red quarters.  He was sure they must be Green Ajah, but he had no way of being sure.  He'd already shown his inability to pick one ajah from another.

Thinking back on that failed meeting, Arath couldn't help feel uneasy about the whole arrangement now.  The White Tower had never been very forthcoming about what they wanted out of this deal.  Evesdropping on the conversation between Zarinen and Jaydena had been very enlightening.  He had been surprised to find that they hadn't warded the room against listeners, and had taken full advantage of the opportunity.  Now he knew at least a little more than he had.  Enough for him to determine that he would never willingly be bonded with a Red sister.  Jaydena's vague offer though ... that had intrigued him.  She had seemed more than willing to bond with an Asha'man.  Though she had also made herself seem like a Red the whole time as well.  Still, her views about what the bond should be were far more to his liking than Zarinen's.  And technically speaking, the arrangement that he and Covai had made with the Amyrlin called for bonding between the Asha'man and Aes Sedai.  Nothing specificly about the Red Ajah and been said, though it had certainly been implyed.

Wandering around as he though, Arath soon found himself outside, and headed for the warder yards.  Unfortunately, there also seemed to be a large number of green glad Aes Sedai in the yards today.  And many of them were watching him.  Looking for a place to avoid so many gazes, the Storm Leader picked up a practice sword and moved toward a less crowded corner of the yards, and soon found himself looking right at the woman who had started this whole thing. 

Arath wasn't quite sure what to make of this particular Aes Sedai.  Clad in green shirt and breeches, she was running around with her hair blowing behind her, and a wooden practice lathe in her hand.  She looked as though she were having fun.  Somehow that just didn't seem like a very Aes Sedai thing to do. 

He was caught a little off guard when she suddenly spun around to face him.  Instinct saved him from an awkward bruise on his face, and he brought up his own lathe bundle in time to block the swing.  Taking a quick step back out of range, Arath grounded his sword and looked quizically at Jaydena.  "You're not quite what I've come to expect from an Aes Sedai," he said after a few moments. 

The silent meal didn't last long.  Lorelai wolfed down her food quickly, and as soon as she was done she was ready to depart.  She still looked a little weak, but it was a far sight better than she had been an hour before.

"Well, I believe this is where we part ways. I... appreciate your assistance. I would have been dead by now, if it wasn't for your assistance and for that I am grateful. May the light shine on you, Asha'man."

As Daevis reached out to clasp her extended hand, wondering what she would be up to now.  Searching for her missing companions perhaps?  She'd said that she would need to catch up with them.  He briefly thought about offering his help, but he knew that she would never accept it willingly.  If the point came where she needed his help, she wouldn't be in any position to ask him for it either.  It was always a shame when someone you had recently healed ended up getting themselves killed soon after.

Knowing Lorelai would never appreciate what he was about to do, Daevis siezed Saidin again.  When his hand clasped the wolfkin's, he began to weave intricate flows of spirit into her clothing.  It was an odd weave, which would allow him to know more or less where she was.  Another one of the Asha'man had discovered it after his wife and refused to be bonded to him, and had placed it on her wedding ring.  The weave worked much better on metals than it did on cloth.  In fact, it didn't seem to ever fade from a metal object.  It would only last for a few days on anything else, but that was more than enough to suit Daevis' purposes.

The weave completed, Daevis released Lorelai's hand and bade her farewell.  He watched her fade into the darkness, but he could still feel her walking away, setting a brisk pace.  Settling back down next to the fire, he yawned and set about to do some serious relaxing.  He had several hours yet before he could travel away from this place, and he meant to take advantage of them.

~~~

A couple hours later, Daevis sleepily checked the location of his wolfkin friend.  To his surprise, she was headed back toward his location.  Well ... not quite.  Her current path would take her well around this spot, but if guessed correctly she was headed back toward that village.

"Bloody woman," Daevis grumbled, pulling himself to his feet.  It didn't take him long to obliterate the fire and gather up the few possessions he had with him.  Soon enough he was setting off at as brisk a pace as he could manage, toward the village.  His knee didn't hurt as bad as it had, but it was still a little stiff.  Walking would help with that.  Checking Lorelai's location again, Daevis grinned to himself.  At this rate he might make it to the village before she would.

Looks good to me. 

*BT Stamp*

Dang ... the books call it algode ... stupid Spanish messing up my Old Tongue now ...

Apart from one little book conflict, it looks good.  Cotton (algodon in the books) is only had among the Aiel.  The people of Randland have never heard of it.  But it's not a big deal.  

I'd be more concerned about the distinct lack of crazy in this one ...

*BT STAMP*

Arath wasn't quite sure what to make of this Aes Sedai.  She wouldn't care who held the bond?  That just seemed odd to him.  He suspected that the few reds who had been bonded by Asha'man had done so under duress.  He'd sooner expect a trolloc to pick flowers than an Aes Sedai to go willingly into the 'wrong end' of the bond as they called it.  What was this one up to?

At the mention of other Ajah's Arath nodded.  “I know something of it.  If the Amyrlin and your Ajah Head weren't so set on keeping this secret I would definitely consider meeting with the other ajah's.  I think many of us might be more comfortable with green sisters."  He knew that he certainly would be.  "I know several would love to speak with the yellows, and I know one man who would sell his soul to study with the browns.”  He laughed softly.  Sereth would probably sell his grandmother's soul to spend an hour in the Tower libraries.

It suddenly occurred to him that he had not introduced himself, and his laughter faded.  It had been intentional at first.  A way to distance himself from anyone looking for a bond.  But now it seemed rude.  “Forgive me Jaydena Sedai, I have not introduced myself.”  He bowed slightly.  “I am Storm Leader Arath Faringal.

“I don't believe I'm one of those who will be bonded,” Arath replied carefully.  So far the Aes Sedai didn't seem to be living up to their end of the deal, as far as numbers were concerned.  Only a bare handful of Aes Sedai had been bonded by Asha'man, while a great many Asha'man had been taken as Warders.  Even a couple of Attack Leaders had been taken.  He didn't plan on adding a Storm Leader to that list.    

"That's what I'm here to discuss actually.  Too many of us are being bonded, without a balance to it.  Some sisters are even bonding two or three of us at a time.  Until things are more balanced, more controlled, I won't let any more officers be bonded.”

He paused for a moment, considering the woman in front of him.  She seemed different from the other Aes Sedai he had met here.  Inquisitive.  It wasn't that the others hadn't been full of questions, but Jaydena's questions had a subtly different feel to them.  It was puzzling.

“As for my specialty … I'm in charge of training.  I over see the basic training of all the Soldiers.”

Arath tugged nervously at the plain wool coat he wore for the moment.  It chaffed him to no end that he had to forsake his standard black coat and his pins whenever he had to visit the White Tower.  He understood the need, or at least he thought he did.  Aes Sedai and their secrets … what difference did it make if the other ajah's knew about what the Red's were up to? 

Covai had told him to meet with Zarinen for today's meeting and discuss the number of bonds being made.  Despite the Amyrlin's agreement that the bonds would be equal in number, the Aes Sedai seemed to be holding far more bonds than the Asha'man were.  So Arath found himself in the red quarters, standing in a hallway awaiting his chance to speak with the red's ajah head.  It was thoroughly aggravating.  Even after several weeks of this arrangement, Arath found it unnerving to be here.  Every time a woman walked by him he half expected her to attack him.  Half of them still looked like they were considering it.  The other half looked at him as though they were considering a horse for purchase.  Unnerving indeed.

It was no surprise then when Arath jumped as a violet clad Aes Sedai approached him.  "Hello, my name is Jaydena. You look like a likely one, why are you all by yourself?"

“I'm simply waiting to speak with Zarinen Sedai.  Since the Amyrlin seems to have left all this in her hands ...” he shrugged.  “I'm alone because the rest of my group has already been snapped up.”  He smiled weakly.  “I guess that makes me the lucky one.”

When the first of the soldiers arrived at the fallen tree, they saw Daevis sitting on the stump, a large pile of charred woodchips strewn about him, and a small wooden carving in his hands.  The Asha'man continued to ignore the tired looking soldiers until about half of the original group had finally arrived.  At that point he blew the dust from the figure and got back to his feet.  

"Well, that took a little longer than I had expected, but at least some of you are here now.  The others will just have to catch up.  This part might take a while, so I hope you're all accomplished artists."  As a confused look rippled through the group, Daevis grinned and channeled air.  One by one, he tossed wooden blocks to each soldier.  The blocks were roughly one foot cubes, roughly hewn, but good enough for the task at hand.

"Your final task of the day," Daevis paused, and looked up at the falling sun, "and maybe tomorrow as well, is to take that block of wood, and carve something out of it."  Holding up his own figurine, he let the class see what he expected.  In his hand, he held a much larger replica of his dragon pin.  The writhing, four legged serpent known as a Dragon.  "I don't think any of you will do quite this well, but I do want to be able to recognize whatever animal you decide to carve, be it a bear, a lion, a frog ... whatever you choose.  But I have to be able to recognize it.  Oh, and you will only be using fire weaves.  No tools of any kind.  You can temper your weaves with other elements, but you will mainly use fire."

More than a few jaws dropped open as comprehension dawned on the group.  A few looked positively sick.  "Don't look like that.  I carved this thing exactly the same way."  True enough, though he neglected to tell them that he'd spent the better part of a week doing so.  Which brought him to the next point.  "The good news," Daevis added with a grin, "is that you have until noon tomorrow to finish it.  And you don't have to stay here until it's done.  Take your block wherever you're most comfortable, but meet me back here tomorrow to show me your work.  If I can't figure out what it is though, you'll be running laps of the walls for the rest of the day.  Understood?"  Most of the soldiers offered a rather half-hearted salute in response.  Luckily for them, Daevis wasn't much of a stickler for that sort of thing.

Dismissing the group in front of him, Daevis settled back onto the stump and resumed work on his own figure, giving each soldier that came along a block of wood and the same set of instructions.  Within an hour, the last of the stragglers had stumbled in, exhausted by the run, and had been sent off to work on the carving.  Despite himself, Daevis was curious as to what the soldiers might come up with.  

OOC:  Sorry about the delay.  Didn't see Kelitor make his last post and forgot about it. :P  This will be the last post I'll require for this class.  Pick whatever animal you want to carve.  It's up to you whether or not it's good enough for Daevis to recognize it and let you avoid the laps of the walls.  And remember, be careful when you play with fire :D