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Arath Faringal

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  1. (Okay, maybe it was a little vague . . . here's some more detail to get everyone started) Arath lay on the bed in the infirmary, unchanging, unmoving, as he had been for months. Ever since the battle at Dumai's well he had lain in a coma, kept alive by the skilled hands of the Asha'man healers. But in his mind, nightmares were forming. The sleeper was about to awaken. A dedicated on duty made his rounds, checking on the severe cases that stayed in the infirmary. He gave only a half a glance at the unconscious Asha'man. There had been no change in this one in the months he had worked here. He stepped past the bed with hardly a second thought, then paused. Looking back he realized that there was something different. The man was drenched in sweat, and his eyes seemed to be twitching. He stepped forward to examine closer. There was definitely something happening. "M'Hael!" he called out. "There's something going on with this one. I think he's starting to wa-". His voice changed to a shout of surprise as Saidin suddenly filled Arath, who began to breath heavily and move his head around, whispering softly to someone. Weaves of Spirit began flying in all directions. The dedicated stumbled backwards in confused shock as one of the weaves slammed into him, cutting him off from the source. Shouts arose from other people in the infirmary, patients and workers, as they saw the weaves and struggled to avoid them. (Any time you want to join in . . . be a victim :twisted: )
  2. Here's something that bugs me about the whole hanging deal. Just how did the 'finns pull it off? Could they walk out the arch, string him up, and then go back in? Or did they just sort of 'poof' him out, and there he was dangling on Avendesora? Perhaps some wierd form of compulsion they used to make him go out and hang himself? It always seemed kinda strange to me.
  3. -shift- The battle raged around him. Encased in the void, Arath felt no emotion as the bodies piled up around him and his comrades. They were incredibly efficient at this work of death. Efficient, but no perfect. Nor invincible. He lost the void as the spear bit through his shoulder. In pain he wheeled around to face his attacker. In shock, he recognized the face of his father... -shift- He was in his childhood home, still facing the father he once knew. The father he had hated so. The spear had changed to a club, and it rained down mercilessly on Arath's child body. Crying and whimering, he pleaded for it to stop. Suddenly he was older again, and he rememebered something ... Saidin... He reached for it, but it seemed so distant, like remembering a dream. Despite all his effort he couldn't touch it, not even the vile taint ... -shift- He stood in the ruins of his home, his fathers body crushed under the charred mes of the small house. An odd mix of horror and satisfaction siezed him. What had he done? Saidin... "What have you done?" Arath reeled around at his mothers voice and saw her standing there, as he had seen her last, murdered in the alleys of Caemlyn. Her body and face mangled by the cruel knives of the darkfriend who had never been found. "You've killed us both!" she whispered "No!" he cried. "I did nothing to you mother!" "You did not save me ..." "I was five! What more could I have done?" Tears streamed down his face as the horrible scene replayed through his mind. His own scars from that nightmarish day burned as though on fire. "You did not save me ..." "Mother ..." Face buried in his hands he tried to block the memories. "You did not save her ... and now she is ours." Arath looked up at the new voice. A fade stood looking down with that awful, eyeless gaze. -shift- Sword in hand, he circled the training grounds of the Farm, battling the Myrdraal. "You are powerless," It hissed at him. "You cannot save yourself, just like you couldn't save your mother." Swords clanged together. The fade sneered at him. "Too weak. Too slow. Always useless." The fades face morphed into that of his father. "Always a disappointment." His fathers sword arced forward, piercing his shoulder, just as his own stabbed forward, piercing his fathers throat. His father vanished from in front of him and Arath fell to his knees. "Too slow." Looking up, his father/fade was there again. Dozens of him. "You cannot escape. You are doomed Arath." The nearest image changed into his mother. "You are doomed my son." In an instant, Saidin filled him. The burning cold and the frozen fire filled him and sickening filth of the taint swept over him. The figures only mocked him. In one terrible voice they cried out "You think that this madness will save you? That it will make a difference, for anyone? Fool ..." In a blind rage he sent Saidin out among the images, hacking them to pieces with weaves of pure spirit. Nothing else would seem to come, but he didn't care. He had to destroy them all, the nightmares of his past. The demons of his past. Hate burned almost as strong as the One Power. The image of his mother fell under the blows, broken and bleeding as she had been so many years ago, eyes glazed over and accusing him. In a teary eyed fury he lashed out at the other images. Confused and surprised shouts arose from them, from all around; sounds that seemed oddly distant, but he didn't care. He had to destroy them!
  4. All oaths have a certain degree of flexibility as we've seen it . . . Recall Nynaeve's first encounter with Siuan. If I remember correctly, Siuan made a sword of air, which seemed to be in direct violation of the oath to never make a weapon for one man to kill another. But when we look at it, she only made it to prove a point, not for someone to kill another. Which of course leads into the idea that the Aes Sedai can make whatever weapons they want for women warders, since they aren't men . . . Anywho, Elaida had a lot of room, and probably a lot of practice of wriggling out of the truth. She said 'I'll do as I'm told', but never said 'I won't do anything I'm not told' It's all a matter of looking for loopholes.
  5. Problem with the portal stones is that they lead to alternate, current realities. If I rememeber correctly, all of those worlds were the worlds that could have happened, had something occured differently (If the trollocs had won the trolloc wars for example). All of our technologies were found in the first age, and many were probably prototypes for AoL technology. But either way that was probably at least 6000 years ago for Randland (if we guess at least 3000 years for the approximate minimum time-frame for an age). Alternate realities on the same time frame would all have changed 6000 years as well, making it unlikely to find our current situation in a PSW. And even should there be one, it would be a VERY unstable reality, since the possibility of it happening was dang near impossible (at least I don't see our civilization making it another 6000 years as is). As for AoL 'electricity' I kind of imagined the OP as the ultimate answer for alternative energy sources we are looking for nowadays. A never ending source of energy that powers the movement of time itself . . . nifty stuff. Beats the heck out of oil anyway.
  6. Sort of an anti-climactic way to do it would be like this: We all know that taveren have a warping effect (sort of) on the pattern. I've always imagined the bore as a hole in the pattern. Sooo . . . having 3 taveren at Shayol Ghul, the focal point of the bore so to speak, would have a sort of knitting effect. Then to make it a little better, the shock of Rand dying would send backlashes through the pattern, straightening everything out. At least thats what I think . . .
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