Daevis was a little taken aback by the woman's angry tirade.  Women ... he thought with a mental laugh.  Next thing I know it will be my fault she was captured in the first place.

"My motives?  Saving a beautiful damsel in distress isn't good enough?"  He got the distinct feeling that flattery wouldn't work in this circumstance, but it certainly couldn't hurt.  "Lets just say I might know a thing or two about being persecuted for being a little bit ... different.  And I'd rather not let someone die because of the fearful ignorance of that rabble.  Trust me.  I have no ulterior motive in saving you.  No desire to manipulate your strings.  I'm no bloody Aes Sedai trying to make the world dance to my tune."

Daevis stared at the ground in front of him for a while.  Taking note of how late it was getting, and the chill setting in, he began to channel to create a comfortable fire.  Flows of air pulled in fallen branches, razors of air and fire breaking them into suitably sized pieces.  More air to drag them into a pile, and an only slightly over dramatic weave of fire to set the blaze alight.  Light, how he loved Saidin, even with the cursed taint.  A wonderful campfire started without ever leaving his seat.

Enjoying the heat of the fire, Daevis tried once again to start up conversation.  "I would still like to know how you were caught.  It's obvious from your wounds that you didn't go down easily.  But I also know that you wolfkin are bloody impossible to sneak up on.  Even when your ... friends ... aren't around."  An unsettling thought suddenly occured to Daevis, and he looked around a little apprehensively.  "Speaking of which, you will let me know if any of them approach, won't you?  I'd hate to save your life only to have one of them accidentaly rip my throat out."

The girl was tough.  Daevis had to give her that.  He'd expected far more than a stifled groan when he set the shoulder into place.  Still, he could see it had taken a lot out of her.  With the rest of her injuries, she might be looking at a very rough few days.  "I can do something for the rest of your wounds ... if you wish," he said.  "It's not exactly comfortable, but it's better than what you're looking at in the next couple days."

Daevis saw caution warring with reason behind those golden eyes, but eventually she nodded her head.  With amusement, Daevis noted that she braced herself again, as if he were setting the shoulder for a second time.  Placing a hand on her head, and the other on her injured shoulder, Daevis wove the complex flows of healing.  The wolfkin woman gasped and shook under the weaves of the lesser sort of healing.  As always, Daevis was fascinated by the wounds closing before his eyes.  Only the worst of the injuries left any sort of scar, and those were faded as though caused a very long time before.  Not as good a job as some of the Black Tower restorers could have done, but far better than nothing.

Gently releasing the still shivering woman, Daevis sat down a little ways away.  "If you don't mind my asking," he began cautiously, "how did you wind up in that cage.  I've never known your kind to be captured easily."

Rochel felt her jaw fall open in disbelief as Pia spoke.  How had she forgotten about this?  As a novice she'd heard of these one hundred weaves.  She'd thought they were perhaps the most foolish thing she'd ever heard.  Thankfully, Pia seemed to take her surprise for the number of weaves, not their uselessness.

Without stopping to give Rochel even a chance to argue, Pia began to weave.  Rochel had no choice but to quickly embrace Saidar and watch.  The first weave didn't seem overly complex.  Mostly air, woven in a fairly tight spiral, and threaded with touches of fire.  Once complete, Pia pulled on both ends of the weave and it collapsed into a tight ball which made a small popping noise.  Rochel frowned down at the weave.  She actually hadn't expected it to do anything at all.  But all of that for a tiny pop?  She already knew a vastly simpler weave that did the same thing.  Nevertheless, she set to work duplicating the weave.

It wasn't bad for a first attempt.  She thought it looked right ... almost.  Something was a little bit different though ... she couldn't put her finger on it.  Oh well, she thought.  I'm sure I'll be corrected on it.  Giving her weave a final tug just as Pia did, Rochel listened for the tiny popping sound.  The weave collapsed into a ball, though much smaller than Pia's had been.  And it gave off a roar like a thunderclap.  Rochel fell out of her chair in surprise.  Pia only smiled, removing the air plugs from her ears.  "It was too big.  You did two extra spirals of air.  Try again."

Two attempts later, Rochel finally finished the first of her one hundred weaves.  She should have felt satisfied when her weave gave off a soft pop, but she just felt frustrated.  Were they all going to be like this?  Overly complex weaves that had no useful function, and unpredictable side effects with the slightest variation?

The second weave was no better.  This one was mostly water, though there was a fair amount of air in it as well.  The form the weave took on reminded her of a star.  It was much more complicated than the first weave.  Rochel watched intently as Pia carefully wove, then grimaced as the finished weave collapsed, leaving a tiny puff of mist in the air.  "That's all it does?" she said angrily, blurting the words out before she had a chance to think.  "Why?"

Full Name: Dashiva Somtaaw

Age: approx. 20

Height: 6'6

Weight: 130 pounds

Build: Slender

Eyes: Deep Brown, almost a Black

Hair: Black

Description: A tall, slim man sporting many scars especially on his

body.

Bio: Dashiva enlisted in the Shienaran Army as a Scout when he was 17 years old, proud to serve his nation in keeping the Blight and Shadowspawn away from the southern nations. Dashiva did his training ruthlessly, never letting anything stop him, from being the best he could be. If he couldn't do something, Dashiva kept working at it, long past the time any other person would have stopped. Dashiva eventually became a scout, and led a small team of other Shienarans

in raids, and scouting missions. Dashiva seemed to have a curse though. On one raid, Dashiva's team got ambushed, and everyone except Dashiva died. Dashiva managed too light a fire, when he concentrated on a piece of wood and cooked the bodies of his dead team-mates so that he could survive. Dashiva made his way back to camp, and got some medical care.

When Dashiva lead a scouting team out, he was ambushed once more, and yet again everyone but Dashiva died. Dashiva managed to light more wood, by looking at it again and concentrating. This happened to Dashiva another 6 times, before on a raid, he was ambushed. Dashiva along with 4 others managed to live this time. Dashiva was thankful that others than just him managed to live. By concentrating on a piece of wood, Dashiva lit the wood and was abut to start cooking their dead team-mates like they had all been taught, when they muttered amongst themselves about male channelers. Dashiva turned around glaring, and all the men ran. Dashiva hunted them down ruthlessly, and killed them all to keep the dreadful secret. Dashiva made his way back to camp, and reported that everyone died in an ambush. Dashiva resigned saying that after so many missions where everyone else died, he couldn't continue. Dashiva collected his pay, and stayed in Fal Dara, and trained with his short-sword and his throwing knives. By the time he resigned, he was a few months from his 20th name day.

After resigning, Dashiva spent some time, deciding if he wanted to go to the Black Tower, and learn to use his abilties. After spending nearly four months thinking on it, he decided to.

Meeting some friends who he had kept, Dashiva quickly organised a 'hiking' trip to the south, visiting Cairhien and other southern nations. After working out the details, Dashiva went home to his bedroom.

Pulling out a large pack with a metal frame, Dashiva smiled and was thankful for having paid a blacksmith to make the frame for the pack. Into it went some clothing, weapons, food, and money. Stuffing the pack as full as he could, Dashiva left it on his bed, and pulled out a smaller bag. In the small bag, he tossed some mementos, a journal and writing charcoal, and more clothing. If things got bad he'd throw the small bag and keep the large one.

Letting his two brothers know he was leaving for a hiking trip, Dashiva belted on his sword belt, sheathed his katana and short sword, and hung a quiver from it. Slipping his arms through the large pack, he lifted the heavy pack easily. Picking up his horse bow, he lifted the small bag with his free hand and moved to the family stable. Quickly saddling his Shienaran stock charger warhorse, Dashiva met his few friends.

Riding out of the city, they headed south, and ran into trouble. A large storm appeared out of no where, and he quickly became seperated from his friends. Trying to make his way south, Dashiva headed for Cairhien like they had agreed.

On the way to Cairhien, Dashiva stopped to camp, and found a corpse. A closer examination revealed a Warder's color-changing cloak, and a pair of fine blades. Wondering what could kill a Warder so far south of the Blight, Dashiva took the cloak and packed it away, thinking it would be useful.

In Cairhien, Dashiva sat in a bar, and a man came up to him, trying to extort money out of him, using lies. Punching the man, Dashiva caused a bar fight, and in the resulting fight, he channeled and the bar turned into flames with most of the people. Staggering away, coughing, and trying to sick up, he was picked up by an Asha'man recruiting party, and was brought to the Black Tower, where he was told he would be trained to use his abilty.

***

After years of training, Dashiva had turned into a fully trained weapon, and had been given the rank of Tsorovan'm'hael; and was secretly the M'hael haran.

After a few mis-haps that could not entirely be blamed on him, the M'hael stripped Dashiva of his position as the M'hael haran and demoted him to baijan'm'hael.

After his shameful demotion, which Dashiva took badly, he was all but banished from the grounds, on what amounted to discrete spying. With a large wagon he used to supply the Inn, he disappeared in the middle of a night, without letting anyone know where he, or his wife Racelle, were going.

Spending his time as a trader, he built some contacts in one city after another, never knowing whether his reports were getting back to the M'hael, or if they were even being read.

Hearing some rumours of Shienar; he made his way there only to witness his fellow Asha'men losing. Vowing to find out what happened, he quickly left, and purchased a large quantity of supplies before turning his wagon south; planning to return to the Tower.

Rochel Dion

Accepted

First post is up.  Be gentle :D

http://forums.dragonmount.com/index.php/topic,49926.0.html

Rochel hurried down the hallways of the Accepteds Quarters, not wanting to be late to her lesson.  She'd already learned that tardiness was treated much more harshly for an Accepted than for a Novice.  In fact, everything seemed to be more harsh.  And to think that she'd imagined Acceptance would bring a little more freedom!  Yes, she could choose her own studies now, but everything else was far more ... brutal.  Though come to think of it she hadn't had much of that freedom yet ...

Soon enough, Rochel found herself in the Grey Ajah quarters, banded skirts swishing as she approached the door of Pia Sedai's rooms.  She'd not yet had a lesson with the woman, but everyone said that she had infinite patience.  Rochel certainly hoped so.  She'd been known to stretch thin the patience of more than one instructor in her years at the White Tower.

With more than a little apprehension, Rochel knocked on the door.  She hadn't been told exactly what this was for, only that the Mistress of Novices wanted to see her for an important lesson.  She wondered what exactly Pia had heard from Lavinya about her that would warrant a lesson like this.  Frankly, the thought was a little disturbing.  Lavinya's trickery was the only reason she was wearing her banded dress right now.  Surely a Grey would be ... less manipulative?  Rochel grimaced at that rediculous conclusion, then winced again as she heard a call from within.  Pushing open the door, Rochel cautiously entered the room and dropped a perfectly acceptable curtsy.  "You summoned me, Aes Sedai?"

Arath resisted the urge to rub the goosebumps on his arms.  It was a pity he could't tell exactly which one of the Aes Sedai was holding the source.  He doubted that they all were, but it was impossible to tell for sure.  He didn't blame them for it.  He held onto his own connection with Saidin, so at the very least he would know if they tried to shield him.

As Covai spoke, Arath kept his eyes moving around the room, constantly watching for unexpected movement.  From what he had observed of the Aes Sedai 'guests' at the Farm, most Aes Sedai used small gestures in many of their weaves, tell-tale signs that they were up to something.  All the while he listened carefully to Covai's words.  He had his own part to play in this and had to be ready to pick up seamlessly where Covai left off.  Soon enough one of the red shawled Aes Sedai, one with constantly twitching fingers, spoke up.

"Circles can be formed well enough by well trained Aes Sedai.  Certainly we don't need a bunch of boys to march in here and tell us how to handle Tarmon Gaidon with the Dragon!"

Arath couldn't help but bark out a laugh.  "Yes.  Your Aes Sedai wisdom has certainly been flawless regarding him so far.  What with kidnapping him and stuffing him in a box.  And then attacking the Black Tower which exists to fight for him in the Last Battle.  One would think that the White Tower would leap on any oportunity that he extended for peace.  But now you would discard his attempt to reach out to those he has no love, or even respect, for?  That sounds like petty prejudice rather than vaunted Aes Sedai wisdom."

Hardly the most diplomatic speech, but Arath was hardly a diplomatic person.  Not that he didn't have the subtlety for it.  He just lacked the patience, especially with these women.  "We learned something about circles from your sisters who were our ... guests.  And trust me when I say your paultry circles won't even give pause to what will come.  What is already coming."

Cool.  Welcome back Dash.  Hope you feel like sticking around for a bit.  We could definitely use an experienced hand around here. :D

Yeah, the first shot at them would be fine.  That will be the most interesting one :D

I want a lot of it to be Rochel's disgusted reaction to the whole thing.  And her frustration that there is nothing to be done about it.

Alrighty, I'm ready to forge ahead with Rochel again.  So I need someone to work with me on the 100 weaves shtuff.  Anyone willing to put up with the headache of teaching 100 useless weaves to an accepted who doesn't like uselessness?

On the same note, I'm interested in teaching an Intro to Saidar for any novices that need it.  Lemme know.

Just so you know, our RP is not yet caught up with the books.  We're currently somewhere in book 8-9.  Not yet to the cleansing.  So be aware of that when making mention of certain generals in their various locations.

To start RP here, yes, you will need a bio.  It doesn't have to be super elaborate.  Name, physical description, little bit of history, and you're good to go.  By the looks of things, you'll probably want to go with the Freelander Div.  They get just about everyone who isn't with a specific group. 

Though if you want your character to become a channeler, the Black Tower would be more than willing to take you :)

http://aliciawilkerson.com/dev/opweaves.php

Enjoy.

There were so many perks to being an Asha'man.  Wielding fire and commanding lightning were great, but the overwhelming confidence those abilities granted was ... awesome.  Daevis' already commanding stature was greatly augmented by the sheer arrogance that came from command of Saidin.  The mob in front of him, who only moments before had been loud and murderous, now looked more timid and subdued as they registered his presence.  Most of them anyway.

"Hardly.  We don't let her kind near our village, let alone near our inn."  The speaker was a large, particularly dirty man.  Daevis imagined that he was normally the sort of person the rest of the villagers didn't want near the village.  Every village had their version of him ... the kind of man who was always trying to cheat his neighbors, and was the first to start pointing fingers for Whitecloaks.  The sort of man Daevis despised.

"Her kind huh?"  Daevis turned his gaze upon the man, eyes narrowing slightly.

The other man flinched slightly, but continued on.  "That's right.  Filthy darkfriends have no place here.  We're good people who stand in the Light!"

Daevis considered the man for a moment, then vaguely nodded.  "I'm sure you are.  But how do you know she's a darkfriend?"  It was always a possibility that they were right, but a little digging couldn't hurt.  "I mean, if she is a darkfriend then she should die.  There's no question about that.  But what if she isn't?  Doesn't that make you just as bad as them, murdering innocent folk?"

"There's no doubting it.  We found her in the woods, living like a beast.  She attacked us.  And her eyes ... no human ever had eyes like that.  She's shadowspawn, mark my words."

Daevis moved forward toward the cage.  The crowd rippled back, leaving him a clear path.  Peering through the wooden bars, Daevis got his first good look of the caged woman.  She looked terrible.  She'd been beaten badly, bruised, bloody, clothing torn to rags ... he was surprised she was still alive.  She hardly looked dangerous though.  Why would they accuse this woman of being-  Daevis' thoughts cut off abruptly as she met his gaze.  Glowing amber eyes looked up at him, only for an instant, but long enough for him to understand exactly what was going on.

"Blood and ashes," he whispered.  Turning back toward the crowd with a sigh, he frowned.  "Have any of you ever seen shadowspawn?  I can assure you, they look nothing like her.  So other than her appearance, do you have any evidence at all that she is a darkfriend?  Anything at all other than your own fear?"

The dirty man spoke up again.  "I don't see that this is your concern stranger.  Why are you so quick to defend a darkfriend anyway?  Maybe you're a darkfriend as well, huh?"  He turned to his friends and yelled, "Should we lock him too?"

Daevis laughed loudly as a small group gathered their courage and closed in on him.  Siezing Saidin, he channeled a small amount of fire and created a fiery red blade in his hand.  "Believe me when I say that it is the last thing you would ever do."  He knew that he probably shouldn't, but he felt a great amount of pleasure in watching the loud mob leader wet himself as he turned to run away.  "I am the farthest thing you will ever find from a darkfriend, fool.  I am a Guardian of the Light.  I wield lightning and fire to protect people like you from the coming storm.  And I am death to all those who would harm the innocent.  So I ask again.  What evidence do you have that she is a darkfriend, and not just a woman who would rather be left alone?"

Nobody spoke for a long moment.  A good number of people shuffled nervously from foot to foot and refused to meet his gaze.  "That's what I thought."  Daevis turned back to the caged Wolfkin and channeled.  A quick weave of air and fire severed the rope holding the cage aloft, and a net of air slowly lowered it to the ground.  Then, always dramatic, Daevis used the burning sword to quickly slice away the bars from the side.  Everyone in the crowd gasped and took a few steps back.

"I came here in the name of the Lord Dragon Reborn to find those with the courage to become like me, to serve him and fight in the Last Battle.  I doubt any of you here will do so, but anyone willing to fight for the Light had best come with me."  Not surprisingly, nobody moved at all.  "Very well then."  With a mocking bow to the crowd, Daevis returned his attention to the newly freed woman.  "You had better come with me.  At least until we find your ... friends."

DM Handle:  Hallow

Contact Info: aleksander2001@hotmail.com

Character Count: 0

Character Name: Terolan

Nationality: Altara (Ebou Dar)

Age: 22

Physical Characteristic: Dark blue eyes, currently shaved bald, although his hair is black, 1,9 meters tall.

Physical Description: Has a long scar down the right side of his face.

Personal History: Terolan was born and raised in Ebou Dar, a place where women were traditionally the one in charge. He was never much of a peoples person, preferring to avoid other people if he could. His life was fairly uneventful up until the Seanchan invaded Ebou Dar. As the Raken were dropping troops all over the city, Terolan bumped into three Seanchan soldiers when he passed a corner. Seeing as he was armed, the soldiers quickly drew their swords, ready to fight him. While Terolan knew how to use his sword, he was certainly no blademaster, and could not hope to beat three trained soldiers in a fight. When they closed in on him as a group and prepared to attack Terolan lifted his right hand and closed his eyes, he heard an explosion and opened his eyes again. That's when he saw all three soldier's dead, severly burnt. Quickly disposing of his sword he scurried out the alley and went into hiding until the city was opened up again. Luckily the damane and Sul'dam at the gates were not looking for men who could channel and he was allowed to leave peacefully, quickly making his way east to where he had heard of male channelers gathering.

Alrighty, the question is:  Have our Seanchan taken Ebou Dar?  I'm not 100% sure on it.

DM handle: Kit

Contact info: virtualstranger[at]hotmail[dot]com

Character count: None

Character Name: Aldon Highgale

Nationality: Andoran

Age: 23

Physical Characteristics: Fair complexion, fine blond hair, blue eyes, average height and lean build

Physical Description:

Considered dispassionately, Aldon Highgale is a very good-looking young man. What's more, he takes extraordinary care with his appearance. No matter what the circumstances or hour of day or night, a hair never seems to be out of place on his face and his clothes are always perfectly ironed and unruffled. Despite this, not many people feel very attracted to him. His good looks are classical, cold and unsmiling and his concern for his appearance seems less an expression of the natural, human urge to impress others and more an attempt to adhere to some impossible standard of perfection set by himself, for himself. His manner is wry and aloof and he maintains a distance between himself.

Personal History:

Aldon Highgale grew up in New Braem, the only child of prosperous local merchants. He was agreed by all to be a strange though gifted child. He developed an early passion for the game of stones and soon became very skilled at it, but he rarely chose to play against any one else. Instead he played long games against himself, spending hours simply staring at the board before making each next move. His parents paid for him to recieve a good education, engaging various tutors and even sometimes paying for the books which he ordered from Caemlyn and Cairhien (a common complaint in the town was how the Highgales spoiled young Aldon). He also took up the flute, practised it dilligently and reached an impressive level of skill, before suddenly ceasing to practise and giving the instrument away. Intensely solitary and secretive by nature, he spent a great deal of time walking in the woods alone. He had a great deal of casual friends, would-be fashionable young men and a few young women, who admired his casual confidence and strove to emulate his eccentricities, but no intimates.

The years passed by. Aldon took several trips abroad, overseeing some of his father's wagons on trips to the south and north, and seemed all set to take over his father's business in time. Strange news was beginning to reach New Braem. There were rumours of riots in Caemlyn, of wars in other lands, of Aiel seen west of the Dragonwall, of strange soldiers in the west, false Dragons declaring themselves and gathering forces, of famines and droughts and huge packs of wolves moving through the wilderness.. One by one, many of the town's young people slipped away -some after tearful goodbyes, some simply leaving a note behind. They went south, to join the Queen's Guards or north to seek employ with the Aes Sedai of Tar Valon. Some simply took to the road with no plan whatsoever in mind, feeling that the end of the world had come and all bonds had been broken.

Aldon remained in the town, until one day, news came that the Dragon Reborn had declared an amnesty on all male channelers, and asked all those men who could channel or wished to in order to serve the Dragon and the Light, to come to Caemlyn to join the new 'Black Tower'. That night, Aldon slipped away without a word of goodbye to his parents, and made his way south to Caemlyn.

Since he has not yet manifested any ability to channel, why does Aldon voluntarily wish to condemn himself to certain insanity and death? Under the surface of cool irony, does he in fact believe in the cause of the Dragon Reborn and his Asha'man? Does he simply wish to taste the power of saidin for himself, even at the high cost it demands? Or is he simply acting on an utterly perverse whim? Enigmatic as ever, Aldon has not so far revealed anything of his motives to the Black Tower recruiters. Only the incredibly harsh, brutal regimen of training at the Black Tower may be the one thing that can strip away all of Aldon's layers of poise and irony and reveal, once and for all, what kind of man the merchant's son truly is.

Sorry ... was too stunned by Elgee being a good little bonded to reply :P

I'm still here, poking the appropriate backside when needed.

Daevis stifled a curse as he stumbled over a hidden tree root.  Daevis hated the woods.  It was too hard to keep an eye on your surroundings when there were so many trees in the way.  For the hundredth time he cursed the necesity of opening a gateway away from a town.  The razor sharp edges could make for some rather horrific accidents though, so he had to put up with the bloody forest. 

This wasn't the kind of thing Daevis liked to do anyway.  Recruiting was so ... dull.  Boring.  Especially in these out of the way towns.  Towns that rarely saw peddlars, let alone strangely dressed visitors of his particular type.  Looking for new soldiers in places like that was always awkward.  To make matters worse, he'd been sent on this trip alone.  A small village like this wasn't supposed to be a problem.  A tranquil, quiet place.

Several minutes later, he stepped into a place that was neither tranquil, not quiet.

A large group of rather dirty looking men, bearing an ill assortment of weapons, stood in what looked like the village green.  The mob was centered around a cage of some sorts, dangling in the air with a rather dirty prisoner inside.  Daevis wasn't sure exactly what he had stumbled upon, but he wished he hadn't.  Getting involved in small village matters inevitably made his job harder.  Not that convincing men to wield tainted Saidin was easy in the first place, but it was still a complication he just didn't want to deal with.

On the other hand, he couldn't really call himself an Asha'man, a Guardian, if he didn't try to protect those in need.  That implied a responsibility to find out who was in need.  Bloody Covai and his speeches ..., thought Daevis with a sigh.

Quickening his step, Daevis approached the group and cleared his throat, drawing their attention.  "What seems to be the problem here?"

A large number of the men spun around in surprise, wondering where this black coated stranger had come from.  "That's no concern of yours stranger.  Why don't you move on?"

Daevis looked up into the sky, toward where the sun hung low in the sky.  "Thought I might stay here for the night.  I hope that isn't your innkeeper in that cage ..."

Each division has a different way of doing training and advancement in the ranks, so it's easier to be organized that way.  Asha'man characters are all under the Black Tower Division, Aes Sedai under the White Tower Div, Wolfkin and Wolves under the Wolfkin Div, and so on and so forth.  It keeps things organized, and lets us keep track of members easier.

Generally, a character has to stay within one division.  That being said, there is nothing to prevent you from having multiple characters.  You can have up to 3 in each division, and in each sub division I believe (groups like the Kin or the Aiel are under the Freelanders, Shadowspawn and Dreadlords under Congress of Shadows).  I currently have 3 characters.  2 Asha'man and a Freelander (Freelanders are for those undecided folks :) )

Admins just keep the peace between divisions and make sure that things run smoothly.  And crack down on the occasional rule breaker.  Those weirdos who want to balefire every other character. :P

Wow.  I'm gonna vote for that.  I suppose it falls under 'other'?

*thwaps Tai*

He had it right.  Go to Tear if you hear about the amnesty and go looking for the Black Tower.  If you want to be picked up by a recruiting party, just head straight for the Farm.

*prepares a big scathing lecture for Tai'Dashan about misleading newbies*

rr

*debates between pouting and the finger*

Eh ... I'm here at any rate.

DM Handle: stp0128

Contact Info: stp0128[at]gmail[dot]com (ScottPalmer65 on AIM occasionally)

Character Count: 0 (First one!)

Character Name: Rian Tareth

Nationality: Cairhienin

Age: 21

Physical Characteristics: Dark brown shoulder-length hair, green eyes

Description: Rian is tall for a Cairhienin, standing at 5' 10”. His brown hair has a wavy nature to it, and Rian is usually brushing it out of his eyes when it isn't pulled back. Generally laid back, he's shaken about the recent events that have brought him to the Black Tower, and wants to understand what he can do before it drives him mad. The weight of the innocent dead in his past hangs on him like iron chains. He hears the screams of the women he accidentally killed when he involuntarily does something with saidin.

Personal History:

Another year passed, another to come, Rian thought idly to himself as he wiped down the length of the bar inside The Dawn's Pride, an inn inside the city. As patrons occasionally wandered in for a mid-afternoon drink, Rian could hear excitement steadily building in the city outside, and rightly so. Tonight was the last night of the year, tomorrow the first of the next, and that meant the Feast of Lights. Rian was sure that in a few hours' time The Dawn's Pride would be packed with locals enjoying the Feast in various states of shamelessness.

Passing a patron a mug of ale over the bar, Rian chuckled to himself remembering last year's celebration, where a man in not but a necklace from the waist up snatched the gleeman's harp right out of his hands and began to play a different tune much to the delight of all of his fellow Cairhienin in the place, and much to the gleeman's discontent.

Well, I suppose “play” is the kinder word for what that racket was...

At 21, Rian felt he must be one of the youngest innkeepers in Cairhien if not all the world. At least, it certainly felt that way sometimes the way patrons would ask to see the innkeeper not the stablehand or the cleaning boy, and continue to disbelieve him when he insisted he was the innkeeper they sought. Though not easy to temper, the few times he had been truly angry it had felt as though there were another in his head, a presence telling him to let go, hand his anger over and the other would take care of the situation for him. It had never been terribly difficult to ignore that question of submission and calm down, but the fact that it was there in the first place was a point Rian liked to keep quiet about.

The door to The Dawn's Pride opened and a youthful man, no older than Rian, yet in a stunningly well-woven coat and a manner of carrying himself that all but screamed of nobility, entered and approached him.

“Afternoon m'lord,” Rian greeted, airing on the side of caution by adding the title. This seemed to please the youth greatly, as he nearly beamed back at Rian before reining it in.

“Yes, hello. I had planned to bring a good number of friends into the city tonight for the Feast, and was just having a look around at all the inns, fetch the innkeeper for me will you?” Rian's jaw twitched slightly in dread of the conversation he was surely about to have, but luckily the youth did not notice, and Rian went on as warmly as possible.

“Well it should be quite the short walk for me m'lord, seeing as you're speaking with him already!” Rian added a forced grin and, as he suspected, the youth did not detect the forced nature. Much to Rian's surprise however, he was pleasantly surprised to have met such a young innkeeper, and after awhile of conversation told Rian to expect a large party tonight, slipped him a few gold crowns to keep a few tables in the corner reserved, and took his leave. Excited about the potential income he could make that night, the rest of the day seemed to fly by as Rian prepared for the Feast of Lights.

As the feast began, the noble and his friends entered, three men and two women, already halfway into their mugs as far as Rian could tell.

“Evening m'lords and ladies!” Rian greeted them jovially.

“I am Valryck,” slurred the noble who had come in before. He looked a bit less pristine with his coat in disarray and his undershirt buttoned incorrectly Rian noted with a chuckle. “And for the next two days I'll not hear a 'lord' from anyone!” Laughing agreement, Rian led the group of them to their table, and held out a chair for an exceptionally beautiful woman who seemed to be on Valryck's arm, whenever he wasn't wildly swinging it in merriment, that is. She gave him a look of thanks that lasted a bit longer than necessary, and he returned to have one of the serving girls see to their drinks. The evening progressed, becoming louder and louder as was to be expected, and when Alise, one of the serving girls told Rian they needed more ale from the cellar, he happily obliged to get some for her.

Thinking happily about the unexpected happenings of the Feast of Lights, Rian descended the stairs and grabbed some more ale from the cellar. Entering the hallway after climbing the stairs, he nearly ran over the beautiful woman from before. After apologizing to her, she thanked him for the wonderful time they are all having by kissing him. Thinking of how a great night has gotten even better, and how this is most certainly allowed as per the customs of the Feast of Lights, Rian enjoyed the moment, until a loud shout from the common room grabbed his attention. Setting down the barrel of ale, Rian looked up just in time to avoid the punch coming at him from an even drunker than before Valryck.

Leaping back, Rian backed hastily out the stable door of the inn, and into an alley that ran alongside the building. Looking around behind him, Rian saw Valryck's friends and the two women coming from behind him. Seeing no other alternative, Rian struggled to get a good position in which to stop the noble's assault, but as his friends reached the pair of them, it seemed in vain.

Rian felt the first punch that connected square in his gut, knocking the wind out of him. Every subsequent blow helped send him to his knees, where he felt a dagger go to his throat.

“Rian?” It was a small voice from back by the stables. Alise had noticed the back door open and come to check on him. As she rounded the corner, Valryck grabbed her and threw her to the ground beside Rian.

Anger welled in Rian, and that presence nearly demanded that he give over control. For the first time in his life, he allowed himself to take fury and run with it. His head spun, and he heard a scream. Looking up, Rian saw the knife was no longer at his throat, because its wielder's hand was aflame. Small patches of fire began to spring to life around he and Alise, under the feet of Valryck and the two other women. They stepped back, clearly frightened, and Rian attempted to gain control of himself.

Alright, they're scared, and I don't know what in the Dark One's name is happening, so its time to stop now! He thought desperately to himself, but it had no effect. His head continued to spin like a top as flames leaped onto Valryck, the two other men, and eventually the women. Hearing their screams, tears rolled down Rian's face as he struggled to control what he knew he could not.

Suddenly, Rian's attention was snatched away. Alise was screaming too. As his gaze snapped to her, he saw flames dancing about her figure as her screams quickly died with her.

“No!!” Rian cried, but there was nothing he could do to control it. Dizzy from the constant spinning of his head chorused with the screams of the dying, Rian stood and ran as fast as he could out of the alley and into the street. Careening into people as he clutched his head while running, Rian made it out of town and sped off into the forest, trying to distance himself from the atrocity he had just committed.

- - - - - - -

Rian has been hiding and wandering since that night, avoiding all major cities except for a few moments to glean information about the outside world. He constantly relives that night in his head, and finally comes to the conclusion that he has to figure out a way to control this power. Several attempts at self-teaching end in blacking out, waking up hours later, vomiting, and a spinning head so bad it makes him wish he were dead so it would end. After hearing news of The Dragon Reborn's amnesty for male channelers, Rian heads hesitantly for Tear.

*squeeeeeeee!*

I'll take this as an Accepted req!

Lets make it ... Transitions.  Just cuz I've no idea what to do with that. :P