I'm a bit more worried about that civie corrupting our soldiers, not the other way around :P

Just one.

Are the sa'sara and tiganza lessons still mandatory for all female civies?

Or was that just a nice dream I had?

Yeah ... I'll be having none of that 'red justice' now ...

That would be a fun return RP ... show up at the Tower only to find your quarters turned over to the Asha'man warders :P

Daevis hated teaching these classes.  The students who fell behind enough in their training to warrant one of these lessons usually fell into one of two categories: the dense, and the arrogant.  Daevis wasn't sure which was worse.  The dense student who simply couldn't learn, or the arrogant one who wouldn't learn because he was sure he already knew more than his teacher.

As he approached, Daevis noticed that some of his students appeared to be showing off for the other soldiers.  A fairly large section of the training grounds had been cleared of snow by vastly oversized heating weaves.  Several of the others were beginning to try it as well.  Daevis ground his teeth as he hurried closer.  While it might be easier if the lot of them incinerated themselves before he even began the class, it would mean a lot of paper work.  Paper work was worse than the class itself.

So rather than watch the class burn to death, Daevis began to lay about with sharp weaves of spirit, slicing all of the weaves apart and watching with some satisfaction as each soldier recoiled from the unpleasant sensation.  It felt rather like having your brain slapped with a wet towel.  There was no actual damage, but it was definitely something to be avoided.

"As much as I wouldn't mind watching half of you kill yourselves with bloody flaming weaves, you will not be doing that again.  Fire is not an element to be played with.  The amount of power some of you were using would have made your weave burn you to ashes on the spot in a few more moments."  One soldier in particular was lucky he had released the weave before Daevis had come within range.  Heating was NOT supposed to be done with cable thick strands of fire!

"You're all here because you lack control.  Control of yourself, or control of Saidin, or some mix of the two.  Lack of control will be the death of you, and probably for many around you.  Lack of control caused you to weave with this," Daevis drew on the One Power and produced a thick weave of fire, "instead of this."  The thread of fire vanished to be replaced by another much finer one.  "So we're going to work on your fine control.  First, I mention your meals.  The inn has been informed to not serve hot meals to any one of you.  If you want hot food, you'll cook it yourself, using only Saidin."  Daevis looked up at the dark, snowy sky.  "That might be an important one to figure out.

"Next, we have your first exercise of the day."  Digging into his pocket, Daevis pulled out a large packet of needles and threads.  Tossing this to one of the dedicated, he continued.  "Fine control.  The dedicated will be passing out a needle and a length of thread to each of you.  Your first job is thread the needle, using only Saidin."  He noticed a sneer cross the faces of several soldiers.  Daevis hid his own grin.  Threading a needle with the One Power was many times harder than doing it by hand.  Weaves fine enough to pass through the eye were difficult for many full Asha'man, let alone for a new soldier.

"To make sure that none of you cheat, we will also be binding your hands behind your back."  Daevis stepped forward to the pair of soldiers who had started the dangerous fire weaves, and wove air.  In moments, their hands were secured in the small of their backs, and a needle and thread had been placed on the ground in front of them.  "None of you are moving on to anything more interesting until this is done.  And none of you are leaving until you've finished all of my assignments.  You'd best get moving."

Arath straightened from his workbench, knuckling the small of his back.  He had been at this for hours, with no apparent results.  Ter'angreal were bloody impossible to make, at least without a model to work after.  Trying to create something entirely new was like trying to build a house using no tools and only your feet.  Slow, painful, and ugly. 

It was somewhat a relief then when one of the dedicated came running up to Arath's home and pounded on the door.  Carefully depositing the half finished ... well, whatever it was ... in a small box, Arath warded the room and went upstairs.  The dedicated on the front step looked agitated, and after a brief explanation, Arath could see why.

M'Hael Haran?  Who would still claim that title?  Arath siezed Saidin and wove a gateway directly to the front gates.  He doubted that this was an attempt to take over the Black Tower; surely someone planning on a coup wouldn't inform the Storm Leaders of his arrival?  Nevertheless, he maintained a firm grasp on Saidin as he stepped through the gateway and let it collapse behind him. 

The sight before him was not quite what he'd expected.  A small cluster of soldiers and dedicated, not a bloody one of them holding Saidin, stood in front of a man who himself stood in front of a large wagon where a woman remained seated.  As could be expected, Arath recognized this 'M'Hael Haran'.

Unsure what the other man was up to, Arath approached cautiously.  "Dashiva," he said warily.  "I didn't expect to see you here."  Indeed, Dashiva was one of the very few Asha'man who hadn't been recalled after Brent's death.  Mostly because nobody had any idea where to find him.  Rather than being exiled to some far away post like most of those who hadn't been in Brent's favor, Dashiva had simply been exiled under pain of death for rather vague charges. 

None of that really mattered anymore with Brent gone, but a certain measure of caution was needed.  Especially if anyone was dredging up the title of M'Hael again.  No, Arath needed to find out what Dashiva knew about events at the Farm, and his motives for coming back.

"What brings you back here?  I assume it's not for a friendly chat with Brent."

Wet t-shirt contest at the inn.

...

What?  It's a suggestion ...

Full Name: Racelle Colford

Age: 21

Height: 5'6''

Weight: 120 pounds

Build: Slender

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Light Brown almost blonde

Description: She is of average height and slim but sturdy build. She is pretty but not overly beautiful.

BIO:

Racelle Colford was the third child of Ariel and Branlet Colford. Her parents ran an inn in the Outer City and Branlet also traded horses. Racelle was attached to her father's side at every horse sale. She road in a saddle better than she could walk during her early years. Her first horse was a small gelded pony named Tiny. Her mother had paddled her behind for riding it through her common room one memorable summer day.

She was fourteen when her mother told her she was old enough to stop fooling with horses and earn her keep in the Inn. However, after putting her in the common room to wait tables for a day, Ariel nearly sent her back to her father's stable. Racelle fell completely twice, stumbled and dropped plates three times, and when one of the plates landed in the lap of a Guardsman, Ariel had her washing dishes the rest of the day. Ariel gave her husband a severe lecture for letting Racelle ride a horse everywhere she went before letting her learn to balance on her own two feet properly. It took Racelle almost two years to learn enough grace to wait tables without dropping things or tripping over her own feet, yet by the time she was sixteen her feet didn't seem to be her enemy anymore. She danced with the young men and even sang with the musicians when her mother would let her. 

As a young adult she developed a routine of taking a ride outside the city walls most mornings to escape from her duties in the inn. Her father's horses enjoyed the exercise and Racelle felt freedom riding away from the city gates. These excursions reminded her of the adventures she read about in storybooks. The inn wasn't far from the eastern gate and each ride she took found her going farther and farther from the city. She tried to not be gone too long, her mother got antsy when she was not back by midday, so she started her journeys as soon as the city gates opened in the early morning.

One such morning, she took her own red roan mare, Rose, on her morning ride. Racelle kicked her to a lope as she waved to the guards at the gate. She normally stayed on the road, but on a whim she strayed down a lane that led through the thick forestry a few miles from Caemlyn. She was enjoying the scenery, keeping the mare at a crisp trot, when the trees gave way to what appeared to Racelle's eyes as a community of some kind. A man stepped out in front of her horse.

****Updated:

Racelle had walked headlong into the Black Tower Farm unknown to herself. The man that stepped in front of her horse was the current M'hael Haran, Dashiva Somtaaw, whom she later came to know as her captor and jailor. The Farm is a closely held secret of the Black Tower, and in order to maintain the secrecy, she was forced to reside there permanently. Dashiva gave her a place to sleep in his own home, even if the only space available was his own bed. Despite this, Dashiva treated her as fairly and with as much respect as a prisoner could be treated.

The first months of her residency were rough; they allowed her no contact with the world outside. She made a total of six escape attempts. Between each escape Racelle became more and more fond of Dashiva. Sleeping in the same bed with him did not help, but despite this, he had never acted untoward with her or expected anything from her. The fifth escape attempt nearly cost Dashiva his life. Using this to her advantage, she made her sixth and last attempt shortly after Dashiva's Healing while he was still barely able to walk on his own. When he came after her again, in his weakened state, her heart shattered with guilt. Before he could reprimand her for escaping again, she spoke the strongest oath she could think of, vowing that she would not leave again.

After making the oath Racelle discovered that she was not the only one who had developed feelings for her bed partner. She began spending her days in Dashiva's inn just as she had in Caemlyn. On occasion, she even managed to talk Dash into taking rides with her in the mornings after his exercises. It was not long before Dashiva's demotion that the two were wed. When Dashiva was banished, the two left together and spent their days travelling, making their money trading spices and other merchandise. Since she left Caemlyn, Dashiva was the only family she had. She often wished to go see her parents, but she would have no way of explaining where she had been or why she had not come back to explain sooner. So, Racelle followed without question and she was comfortable and at home as long as she was next to her husband.

Dashiva continued to send reports back to the Black Tower but there was never any sign that they were getting back to the M'hael. After a trip to Sheinar, Dash was convinced that it was time to return to the Tower. So the two began another journey south, back to Andor.

Daevis wasn't quite sure what happened, but ending up with a very large and angry wolf standing on him was not quite what he'd expected.  A little bit late, he siezed Saidin to protect himself.  A solid weave of air protected his exposed neck and face, and another far nastier weave was ready to fling the beast away.  Probably in several messy pieces.

"Don't hurt her!" came a cry from the wolfkin ranger.

Daevis held his weave in check and turned an incredulous stare at the woman.  You must be bloody joking, he thought in disgust.  Flaming thing is about to eat me and she tells me to stop?!

A few moments later the she wolf stepped off of him.  Daevis watched the thing back away from him warily.  He'd always been fascinated by wolves.  Like many borderlanders he always appreciated seeing them along the blight border.  But it was one thing to watch a pack rip apart a stray trolloc, and quite another to be the one about to be ripped apart.

Maintaining a firm grip on the source, Daevis hauled himself back to his feet.  "I'm sorry. She thought you were trying to hurt me. She doesn't like it when people touch me," said the wolfkin.  She looked ... amused.  Burn her.

"Well thank you so very much for the warning," the Asha'man replied, more than a little irritation in his voice.  "I'll be sure to ask for her bloody permission next time I keep you from falling in a fire."  Daevis limped his way back over to where he had been sitting, his knee having twisted badly when the wolf dropped him.  "I go out of my flaming way to help someone," he grumbled to himself, "and she goes and feeds me to the goat-kissing wolves.  Bloody women ..." 

He supposed this was what came of trusting strange women.  All women were strange, but this one more than most.  Dropping back into his seat, he began to dig through the small pack and pulled out a packet of food.  He bounced it in his hands for a moment, then tossed it in an arc well over the wolf to the startled wolfkin.  "Food," he said simply.  "Not that you're likely to eat anything I give you, but you need it.  Probably why you fell over there."  Well, he'd done all he could now.  If she died from starvation it was her own stubborn fault.

"But I-" Rochel cut off as Pia simply arched an eyebrow.  "Yes Aes Sedai.  I apologize for my outburst."  It was good to be able to lie.  She'd miss that, if despite her attitude she still managed to reach the shawl.  

Settling into her seat she began to replicate the foolish little weave.  Several minutes later she finally managed to copy Pia's weave.  More or less.  At least it produced a little puff of mist.  Rochel suspected that she had missed something though, and a single glance at the Mistress of Novices confirmed it.  With a sigh, Rochel began again.

I still do not understand why the testing has to be like this, she thought bitterly.  What does it prove, other than the fact that one can memorize a long series of needlessly complex weaves?

When she finally completed the mist weave to the Aes Sedai's satisfaction, Pia wasted no time in moving on to the next.  And the next.  And the next.  As she began the sixth weave, a complex braid of air, fire, and spirit that produced a swarm of tiny lights that danced light fireflies for just a moment, Rochel's patience was running thin.

"Pia Sedai, what are any of these weaves good for?  I've seen far more simple ways to do almost every single one of them.  The only one I haven't seen anything similar to is this last one, but for the life of me I can't think of any time I'd want to do that either."  With a supreme effort, Rochel managed to keep her tone under control.  A voice suitable for asking a perfectly reasonable question.  Her face hurt from keeping an experssion of disgust and exasperation at bay.  "It seems strange to me that to become an Aes Sedai, potentially one of the most useful people in the world, you have to go through all of this ... uselessness."

Alright.  Odd as it may seem, the reply I put on that thread has vanished.  And both of you replied again without me, so I'm kind of at a loss of what to do.  I'd originally written in Daevis slicing apart that rather foolish heating weave just before it vaporized the both of you ...

*This is the part where I get to pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh* ;)

We DO accept men of all strength, but the vast majority fall right on or very close to the 32/28 average.  The weakest a PC Asha'man can be is 26.  Anything below that mark would be considered extremely weak.  ICly, promotions are largely given due to proficiency at channeling, a very important part of which is strength.  A weak character will have to wait a long time before getting his promotion to Dedicated, and unless a large skill score increases their potency enough, they probably won't ever reach Asha'man rank.

Basically, it's safe to assume that any Dedicated you run into will have at least 20 strength.  Any Dedicated weaker than that would be extremely rare, and like I mentioned before he would probably have a skill score allowing him to channel circles around just about everyone else.

Think of it like the Aes Sedai.  They might train everyone they run across, but not everyone they train has the strength to move up in the ranks.

And Daevis punished you suitably for it :D  Go thread your needles.

Just as a heads up, you both need to watch your strength assumptions.  Even with the extra leeway I allow, you would only be at 50% strength at best, meaning 17-18.  Probably closer to 12.  The only time you'd be surpasing a Dedicated would be if he was laughably weak.  But he'd probably have an insane skill score and channel circles around you.  Typically the Dedicated sit at the 22-25 range.  

That being said, the way men grow in strength is unpredictable.  The man you surpased yesterday could end up far stronger than you tomorrow simply by his natural progression.  Makes strength comparison pretty useless until you've fully grown.  Lets keep it realistic.

Don't you get tired of approving so many WT bios?

*Grumble*

*BT Stamp*

*BT Stamp*

I'll jump in and teach with my 2nd Asha'man, Daevis.  Big scary Shienaran soldier ... should put the fear of the light into you rebelious little Soldiers :P

Pfft ... that's only if you get caught ...

Just so you know, there's no official roomie pairings now.  No approval needed, you can just go ahead and do it.  Or so I was led to believe ...

Arath nodded in agreement with Covai's words.  Once the other Storm Leader was finished, he added a few of his own.  "Like Covai said, the previous agreement, made under duress by your side, was more of a ceasefire.  And made by a fool who tried to kill us to prevent this meeting from happening.

"We don't care if you love us.  Light, if the last 3000 years are the result from you 'loving' us, I'm not sure I even want you to like me.  All I want is to win the last battle.  And as things stand, that will ... not ... happen.  Four hundred Asha'man answered the call to go to Shienar.  Four hundred."  He paused for a moment to let that number sink in.  Covai might have skimmed over the details, but Arath believed that some of them were vitally important.  "The mere thought that so many of us exists frightens you, much less if that number had suddenly shown up in Tar Valon looking for a fight.  The dreadlords didn't even pause.  Almost a hundred of us were slaughtered in minutes inside the walls of Fal Dara, in horrific ways we'd never even dreamed of.  The rest of us were driven out with ease not even an hour later.  I doubt we killed more than a dozen of them ... maybe not even that.  You should know by now that we're no easy meat.  How many Aes Sedai do you think it would take to replicate that bit of butchery?

"That, Amyrlin, is why the hostility must stop.  Not for some misunderstood love which somewhere turned into hatred, but for survival.  Respect and understanding are all well and good, but after three millenium of strife, understanding may take decades to achieve.  And we don't exactly have that much time, if you know what I mean.  I don't expect a lasting peace from you.  For all your talk of equality I expect that you'll start gentling us again before the dust even settles from the Last Battle.  All we want is the chance to win it first."

*BT Stamp*

Ooooh ... gruesome.

*BT Stamp of Approval*

Handle: Arath Faringal

Characters: Esyndor Renethil - No guild/rank - Currently in Limbo (not been played for a while) - Blacksmith turned Rogue, needs something to do - WS 5 ... I think.

I'm on DM a lot.  Every day, for more than a few hours.  A lot of that is involved with BT matters, but a great deal of it is just random reading.

No previous positions within the Freelanders.

Generally speaking, its preferable to keep your own PC's seperate.  As a last resort you can put two of your characters together, but since the entire point of the RP is to write and interact with other players, it's best to look for someone else.

Sometimes it has to happen anyway.  I currently have both of my Asha'man involved in one RP.  But I keep their interactions to a minimum.  I don't think they've ever even spoken to eachother. 

Long story short, it's frowned upon, but nobody is going to yell at you for it.

*BT Stamp*

2 years leave?  Wow ... I want a job like the Band ...

*BT Stamp*