A short time later, Vykor heaved a sigh of contentment and pushed his plate away. Isha had been right, the food was very good and the ale refreshingly cool. Looking across the table at his scared mentor, he felt a moment of unease. 'I should not have lied to him.' he thought. 'I need to be able to trust these men and have them trust me too if I am to learn to wield the One Power.'

 

Swirling the last bit of ale in his mug, Vykor gazed into it like a man searching for answers. Unfortunately, there were none to be had in the bottom of his drink. Sighing again slightly, he tipped his mug and head back, savoring the last bit of ale and letting it slide down his throat. Setting the mug down, Vykor looked again at Isha, the tall man was looking at him as if trying to make up his own mind about something. 'A man who has no friends stands alone in the storm.' his grandfather had always said.

 

'I am here to learn and to hopefully make up for the wrong I have done, and I cannot do that without Isha and the others here at the Black Tower.' Nodding to himself, Vykor cleared his throat and looked the tall Asha'man in the eyes and said "Asha'man Isha sir, I have not been completely forthcoming about...well about how I came to be here and I would rather you know the full story then to begin my training here with a lie on my lips."

 

Looking away, he focused his gaze upon the hearth where a fire was steadily eating away at the logs within it. The he began his story; telling Isha how his old life had ended that fateful day in his village and how he had killed his best friend with the One Power. Telling the story of that day, Vykor could again taste the ashes of Aaryon's body upon his lips and wished he had more ale to wash the taste away.

 

He told him about that day and the whole year of running and traveling from place to place, but he did keep a few details to himself. He did not tell his mentor about the hours immediately after he had began running or about his thoughts of ending his life in the river. Nor did he talk about the day after. 'There is no reason to mention that.' he thought to himself as he shifted his satchel into his lap and laid his hand across the smooth, faded leather.

Estel

 

Isha stood in the courtyard on his home waiting for his two mentees to return from their breakfast at the inn. While Vykor had already been there a few days, Noy had only arrived yesterday, yet the two were becoming fast friends.

 

Leaning against the house, the Asha’man wondered whether these two would learn as quickly as he had. It was so much easier when the students were willing, and though Noy was Amadician, the boy seemed eager enough. Vykor, however, had a more fervent reason to learn to control the Power he was able to wield.

 

’You’re going to teach more men to touch Tainted saidin’ Isha was having trouble discerning whether these thoughts in his head were his own or were from some sort of external power. Wherever they came from, they scared him to death. ’Better for you to…’

 

’NEVER!’ Isha screamed.

 

Just then, his two concerned mentees entered through the archway. With half fearful, half curious looks, they stared at him. Isha just smiled weakly.

 

Then he abruptly began the lesson.

 

“Well now, you two are finally going to learn how to control the Power you can wield. Not that I’m going to teach you too much that’s useful right away, but by the end of today you should be able to seize saidin.â€

 

He talked amiably with the two men, but all at once his demeanour changed. No longer was he the approachable friend that he usually was. Instead, he was the drill sergeant of an army: hard as steel, unsympathetic and aloof.

 

‘Follow me.’ was all he told the two, but it was cold as winter and spoken like a king giving judgement- the prisoner was to be forced into hard labour.

 

He led them to the edge of the woods near his home. Stopping, he seized the Source and felt the effects of the Taint. Like fresh manure it oozed into his very soul and only his iron self-discipline kept his breakfast from ending up on his polished, black boots.

 

With an enormous club of Air, he smashed it into the tops of the trees and a cracking of wood and rustling of leaves followed as the entire tops of a dozen trees came smashing to the ground. A light wind blew the thousands of loose leaves towards the three black coated men, leaving a carpet of green where there had been only bare earth.

 

Finally, as if the rest of the mess wasn’t good enough, Isha wove together an enormous, explosive ward around the topless trees and the mess he had made. Then with a glance at the two boys, he picked up a stone and threw it to the centre of the ward.

 

The stone never made it.

 

It was incinerated in midair as were the tops of the trees, the leaves, and the dozen or so trees themselves. The explosion had been contained by the ward, and left a huge circle of ash, dotted at the far edge by the tree stumps.

 

“I believe you two have your work cut out for you, I want his entire area cleared to bare earth.†The jest was cold and no amusement sparkled in the dark brown eyes on that iron face. “May I suggest you remove your shirts, coats and boots before you commence your work. You can gather the ashes into a heap. Any tools you need, such as brooms, shovels or ropes can be found in that shed†he said pointed to a ways away from where the ward had left the site of devastation “and I’m only a call away. But I’m not going to help you two, and I expect this to be done. Oh, and don’t forget to remove the stumps.â€

 

With that, he strode away to the inn for an ale and to perhaps talk with a few of the other Asha’man without classes.

 

ooc: remember that neither of your chars can use saidin yet, so this is all done manually.

 

Kalthandrix

 

Vykor shut his mouth with an audible 'click', almost taking the tip of his tongue off in the process.

 

The destruction around him was...astonishing and horrible at the same time. With the thunder of the explosion still ringing in his ears, he heard Isha giving Noy and himself instructions to clear the debris with a voice as cold and hard as steel. This was a side of the Asha'man that he had not seen before. “I believe you two have your work cut out for you, I want his entire area cleared to bare earth. May I suggest you remove your shirts, coats and boots before you commence your work. You can gather the ashes into a heap. Any tools you need, such as brooms, shovels or ropes can be found in that shed and I’m only a call away. But I’m not going to help you two, and I expect this to be done. Oh, and don’t forget to remove the stumps.â€

 

Remembering his words on the first day he met the huge Asha'man and also Isha telling him that he expected whole hearted effort. Vykor's only reply was a salute and a "Yes Sir!" and off came his black coat and undershirt. His satchel was placed under both the layers of the clothing he had just removed. The boots he kept on- the explosion had made some of the tree into very sharp looking slivers and stakes of jagged wood.

 

Vykor then went over to the shed and pulled out some rope and shovels. 'It would be best to drag the larger material out of the way before getting started on the rest.' he thought as he came back. He said so to Noy and the two of them got to it.

 

At first it was almost fun. The heavy labor of moving the larger sections of wood out of the way loosened up Vykor's sore muscles and reminded him of the time he had helped Ned Briel expand his field after a huge windstorm had knocked down some of the trees on the south side of his land. But after a while, the rope dug into his shoulders while the ash and other small debris flew up into the air. The ash was thick upon his body and clogged his nose. The worst part was the taste though, and the memories it stirred within him. Images of the line of fire streaking from his hand and incinerating Aaryon threatened to unman him. The ashes of his friend had flown thick in the air that day too; covering his body, clogging his nostrils, and coating his lips. Vykor paused to spit the taste from his mouth, bile rising again, which he swallowed back down before it could spew forth from his mouth.

 

Panic was setting in!

 

Trying to calm himself, he thought back to the day he met Isha and the feeling of emptiness he was able to attain by feeding his emotions into the flame that the large man had conjured. He had found himself doing this a lot lately, staring into the flames of Isha's huge hearth and last night while in his room, watching the fire burn in his rooms smaller fireplace- trying to burn out those memories.

 

Needing to escape his rising panic he tried to envision the flame in his mind, focusing all of his will on keeping that flame there and throwing his jumbled emotions into the greedy fire. It was hard, the image of the flame slipped from his mind time and again, but each time he brought it back and began again; this task alone helped calm him as he sought the flame.

 

jasonr

 

Noy was concerned over Isha, he was struggling with himself again. He hoped the madness wasn't taking his Mentor. Isha told Vykor and him to follow, his usual friendlyness gone, replaced by a stern outer apperance. Noy supposed that if they truly were to learn, then Isha could not baby them forever.

 

They stopped abruptly and without anything Noy saw, branches fell and made a huge mess everywhere. Isha glanced and them and threw a rock where the branches were. There was a huge explosion. Noy's face was hanging open. Amazing how could

one person create such a huge mess.

 

Then amazement turned to horror when he was told that they were to clean it all up. Light there was no way. It would take all day. Well they had better get started. Isha gestured to where they could find the equiptment they needed, and walked away. But not before telling them to remove the stumps also.

 

Vykor first sugested that they move the large stuff out of the way first, and Noy agreed. So they got rope and some shovels and began their work. After about two or three hours or so, all of the large debreise was out to one side. The explosion had created more waste, but it had also nad the chunks into smaller, more manageable sizes. The rest was small enough to be lifted by the brooms.

 

Noy picked up a broom, to sweep away the ashes. Light, the broom was a woman's job, he was still tyred from moving the large waste, and sweat was starting to appear on his body. The routing of the stumps would be easyer for Noy. At least he knew how to do that. Sweeping was a mystery, Noy observed how Vykor was doing it, one hand guiding, the other down low to get the power of the sweep. Soon they were raising little flurries of ash.

 

This amused Noy, Air was a wonderous thing, you breath it, your entire life relies on it. Noy wondered if when he learned to channel whether he would be able to control the air itself! With a start he realized that most of the dust was mostly gone. Light the dust had not taken very long. Noy looked up at the sun and realized that it had taken about as long as the big stuff had! He never realized that sweeping was such work. His arms and legs burned, and his back was suffering from stooping down so much.

 

He was pouring sweat, and panting hard. Light this was harder that he had worked in a long time. But all there was left was to clear the rest. Laughing, Noy continued his work. He could say that the rest was all there was left the whole time. The clearing of the ashe revieled the large stuff they had missed. Noy groaned, he thought they had gotten close, but the real work was just begining.

 

ooc: sorry, I just made your gut able to sweep a little, that way we are not completely lost.

 

Kalthandrix

Most of the debris was cleared and all that remained was the stumps. Looking at them, he realized that there was no way the two of them could remove these things without some chains and a team of horses.

 

Vykor sighed and wiped his hands off on the legs of his pants. 'Well, there is no other thing to do bu...' he stopped. The ease with which the huge Asha'man had torn down these trees raced through his mind. 'I... I could do that too, if I knew the way.', he also rememberd what Isha had said before leading them over to this place, “Well now, you two are finally going to learn how to control the Power you can wield. Not that I’m going to teach you too much that’s useful right away, but by the end of today you should be able to seize saidin.â€

 

Taking the chance of looking the fool, he set his tools aside and walked over to the inn, where his black coated mentor was taking his ease at one of the tables and sipping on a mug, ale most likely.

 

"Asha'man Isha, sir! I am ready to begin now. Just tell me what I must do and I will remove those stumps with the One Power."

 

jasonr

ooc: Aww, I was looking foward to Noy's first night, oh well. That is smart though, I honestly didn't think of that, I figured that the cleaning was just physical training, maybe to irritate us enough to acsess the Power. I thought that Isha was at the Inn though?

 

Noy was suprised when he saw that Vykor put down his tools and walked right up to Isha. "Asha'man Isha, sir! I am ready to begin now. Just tell me what I must do and I will remove those stumps with the One Power."

Noy hadn't thought of that. He was just going to hack off the roots, and pull. Like he usually did. It would take days to do that though with all of the stumps here. It was so simple, brilliant really. What better way for Isha to teach them than this. He was testing their wits as well as their physical capabilities, brilliance, sheer brilliance. That is, unless they were both completely mistaken.

 

It could just be sheer physical labor, but it was impossible to do this by the end of today, and Isha had said that by the end of today they would be able to seize Saidin. Noy wanted to have caution, but in the end his curiosity prevaled. "Yes Isha, could that be the answer, or are we just sitting here wasting time, and looking like fools?" Noy winced, he had adress Isha as purely Isha, he should have said Asha'man Isha like Vykor.

 

Light Noy hoped that that was the answer, he didn't like being a fool, not hate, he was not a noble, but it was never very pleasent. He knew he looked like a fool now, just standing there waiting for Isha to answer, a frown was fixed on his face. He waited for Isha to answer, ready to get to work.

 

Estel

 

Isha turned to see the door of the inn emit his two very dirty mentees. He grinned, so they were smart enough to ask for help in something they wouldn't have been able to do by themselves. Good.

 

Nodding, the huge man stood and as he arrived at the place where the stumps were, he used Air to lift them out of the ground and drop them right back where they were. Loose though.

 

"Now I've done the hard work, finish the job." This time he didn't bother to go back to the inn, and merely sat in an invisible chair of Air waiting for the boys to finish.

 

jasonr

 

ooc: uh... Vydor asked you to teach him to channel, not help him I kinda agreed with him, but whatever... here goes the lifting of stumps from the ground.

 

IC: Isha smiled at them when they came into the Inn and asked for help. He came outside and lifted the stumps from the ground with the Power. Amazing, this must be the power of simple air. Noy was looking foward to learning to channel, that way he would be able to control air. In Noy's perspective, he needed air to live, and so air controled his actions. Say, he would not go underwater all day because he knew that air held him from doing so.

 

If Noy gained mastery over Air, then he would be one step closer to controling his own life. Time to get to work. Now it was simple, all they had to do was move the stumps from their places to the side of the new feild. Not that it was easy, just a simple consept. After an hour of grunting and groaning, they had cleared away about a third of the stumps. Noy grinned, just about two more hours to go now, then he would learn to channel.

 

.................

Noy looked at the sun and the feild, as he had expected it had taken them two more hours. Noy was on the point of colapse, but he was so close, just one more stump. He grinned so close, he sommoned all of his reserve energy and lugged the stump using ropes, but this stump was awkward, the ropes would always slip off. So Noy cursed and grabbed it with his hands, so close.

 

Noy let out a weak woop when he had gotten it over to the pile of other stumps. He colapsed in a heap, lying on the ground with his arms spread wide, and a huge grin fixed on his face. He watched the sun, there was a good three hours of sunlight left. (ooc: worked from 7-4) Light, there was still time to learn, happiness welled inside of Noy.

 

He wondered if... there was... time for just.... a little... nap. Almost as soon as Noy finished the thought, he was asleep.

 

ooc: if you are thinking Noy is weak, trust me, if you did nine hours of strait hard, physical, labor, you would be tyred too.

 

Kalthandrix

 

'Light blasted wool-brained fool!' Vykor thought as he watched Isha lift the tree stumps from the ground. 'You thought you were so cleaver, but you are nothing but a farm boy doomed to go mad from a power you cannot control, dealing with men more worldly and experienced. How could I have been so thick-headed as to think this was a test?'

 

Disappointment was a bitter fruit for him- he had honestly thought that this work was to break them down a bit and then open their minds to the possibilities that the One Power provided for those who could control it.

 

'Oh well! Nothing to do but get it done.' he thought when Isha said "Now I've done the hard work, finish the job."

 

Moving forward with Noy, he threw himself back into the heavy physical labor of moving the huge tree stumps. For the next several hours the two young men sweated, swore, pushed, pulled, and strained to move the shattered remains of the Power-blasted trees. Their whole world was nothing but the next stump, moving it a bit further, pulling harder. When finally the last of the stumps were cleared and the rest of the broken trees and ash were removed from the site and segregated in their separate piles, Vykor looked up and noticed that the sun was on its race to kiss the western horizon. They had worked all day and, as his stomach rumbled and thickened tongue swiped his parched lips, they had missed lunch by several hours.

 

Wearily putting the tools back into the shed they had come from. That finished, he went over and picked up his shirt and coat and drapped them over his arm; he did not want to put them back on until he had some time to clean up, and looped his satchel over his head to hang at his side. Noy was currently stretchd out on the ground and snoring softly ,'Light! Is he asleep already?' Shaking his head in wonderment, and bone-weary himself, he walked over to the Asha'man, who was sitting on nothing but air!- and said "I believe that we are finished sir."

 

Estel

 

After watching the boys for about an hour, Isha had went back to the inn and gotten some food and ale for them after they finished. Upon returning and hour later with the food- he had stopped and had a fewd drinks in the meanwhile- he found Noy asleep and Vykor on the verg of collapse.

 

Setting the food down on a table of Air, he strengthened his Earth weave with Spirit to make two earthen chairs. "Eat Vykor, I'll continue the lesson as you do." With another weave, he used Water and Spirit to draw water from the air and dump it on the sleeping Noy.

 

"Morning, sunshine. Time for a late lunch. Eat up." Once Noy was awake, threads of Air dried him off.

 

"Now, on with the lesson. Why do you think I made you clean up a mess I couldn't have doen in minutes with the Power?"

 

jasonr

 

Noy was dreaming. Funny that was just a simple statement. Noy was dreaming. but it could tell you so much, there is a huge blank that can be filled with anything. Just another way our smallest choises can inpact something huge. Noy knew he was dreaming, that happened sometimes, he couldn't think about what he was dreaming though. That also happened sometimes. It was like floating in nothingness, he was dreaming, but he was dreaming of nothing, amazing what you can acomplish while asleep.

 

His pleasent thoughts were interupted by water being dumped on him. "Morning, sunshine. Time for a late lunch. Eat up." Noy felt like he had been sleeping for hours, but a quick glance at the sun proved that it hadn't been that long. Noy sat down at the table and took one look at the food, then a look at Isha and jumped strait in. Noy felt like he hadn't eaten in days, but he knew that if he ate to fast, then he would get an upset stomach.

 

Then Isha said, "Now, on with the lesson. Why do you think I made you clean up a mess I couldn't have doen in minutes with the Power?" This was an easy answer for Noy, but he hoped that it was the right one. "Well, for the same reason you made the mess. I'm sure you don't go out everyday and for fun just decide to destroy part of the forest." Noy barked a laugh, he wouldn't put it past Isha either.

 

"Perhaps for physical training, you said before, I beleive, that we would have to train our bodies in preperation for the vigors of Saidin. Perhaps also our determination, to see if we would just quit, or perhaps beg you to let us stop. If we wern't determined enough to clean the mess, then we arn't determined enough to handle the Power."

 

Noy was proud of his speach, he had seen pritty deeply into Isha's words. If he was completely wrong, than he still proved that he was worth the effort of teaching. He proved that he could think, and use that brain in his head. The women he knew were convinced that he didn't at all.

 

He looked expectantly at Isha. Patence is a virtue, but not one that he was lucky enough to posses. Noy hated waiting, but it was a neccesity.

 

ooc: the 'dream' thing in the beggining had nothing to do with dreamwalking, I just felt like putting a little something in there.

 

Kalthandrix

 

Waiting until Noy finished, which gave Vykor more time to eat, he put his thoughts into order before replying.

 

"Well sir, my grandfather always said 'Men are like steel; you cannot know the strength of either before you test it.' So I imagine that you wanted to see how we would approach the job at hand. Some might have complained about having to do it or been lazy in the effort they put into their labors. We did neither so you know that we will do what we are told without complaint and with all of our ability. When faced with getting the tree stumps pulled, some might have been too proud in asking for help and tried to get the stumps out themselves. Noy and I came to you when faced with an obstacle we could not overcome ourselves and asked for the help you had offered. This, I believe, shows you that we know the limits of what we can and cannot do, and are not too proud to accept the help that is offered."

 

"So all in all, I believe this was a test designed to show you our temper sir." Taking a long drink from his mug, Vykor kept his eyes on the Asha'man, trying to read his expression and see if he was right or was once again shooting in the dark.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Vykor was staring at the three things on the latter backed chair across from him. Taken separately, they could have been just things, but together, sitting there on that chair, they were more then just objects; they were his life and death. An odd combination to go with an unadorned worn, leather satchel, a long hilted steel sword in a brown leather scabbard, and a high necked black wool coat. Such innocent looking things really.

 

Shaking his head, he threw off his reverie and stood up. He had a class to get to and heading out now would be better then sitting in his room. Usually, he would have been out before the sun began lightening the sky of a new day, practicing with his sword, but instead he was taking his sword-work in another direction. His fascination with the blade had led him to ask question- a lot of question. Some had been answered politely, some not so, but all of them had helped him and taught him something. Battles were fought anywhere, anytime; without regard to your health, fatigue, or pleasure. So he no longer held his extra morning training in the traditional manner- in an open clearing he had found with level ground and space to move through the forms. He was forging his own path.

 

Shrugging on his coat and buttoning it up all the way he focused his thoughts back on to this mornings class. Today he would work with sadin and use it as a tool to shape the weapon he was becoming. Looping his satchel over his head and taking up his sword, Vykor walked out of his room and shut the door behind him. He moved silently through Isha's big house, most likely an unneeded precaution as it seemed the whole Farm rose before the sun, like the more common place it took its name from. Except weapons were grown here, not corn, wheat, or livestock.

 

Walking out of the house and into the cool morning air, Vykor breathed in deeply and began the walk to the area where the class was to be held. He arrived a bit early and so he crouched down in the trees on the edge of the clearing off of the path and began a mental exercise- trying to recall all of the details of things he had seen in his walk to class, training himself to be more observant and to remember the things he had seen. When class ended, he would walk the same route he had taken here and see how well he did with his memory game, but for no he waited.

 

Not long after sunrise, black coated men began to drift into the clearing and so vykor stood up, smoothed his coat and ran a thumb under the two leather strap crossing his chest- one two his satchel and the other two his sword which he had began to wear there after an incident that happened last week during morning exercise class.

 

When everyone finally came together, Dedicated Zorrander told them what they would be doing and Vykor's heart gave a bit of a flutter in his chest. 'Lets see what you can do he says!' he thought to himself. He remembered his last several classes working with sadin and the time he had spent with Isha working on his control, which was shaky at best. 'Not this time.' he growled mentally. 'I will do it and do it well this time.'

 

But what to do? He could feel the weaves being made around him, a skill he was just picking up and understand. Standing there he was lost in though for a time, filtering through those weaves he knew and those being attempted by his fellow Soldiers.

 

"You going to weave something or just stand there Soldier?" came a voice from behind Vykor, starteling him to the point he actually jumped a bit. Spinning around a bit and cursing himself for not being more aware, he seen that it was Dedicated Zorrander who had spoken. Composing himself he said, "Sir, I am just thinking about what to do. I...uhha...do not want to burn anything down sir."

 

"Burn what down Soldier? The trees! Do not worry about them. Most likely they will come down anyway as the Tower grows. What you have to do now is weave a ward- at this point in time that is your only purpose and reason for living. Everything else is nothing. The doubts you are having about your abilities make you hesitate and second guess yourself, and in the battle of controlling the Power, those doubts will burn you out or kill you when you hesitate with the One Power. Wielding sadin is a battle and one that you cannot afford to lose. You know what you supposed to do and I do not want you to think about it. I want you to do it Soldier!"

 

Face turning red from embarrassment, Vykor clenched his jaw and gave a sharp nod to the Dedicated. Turing back around he dove into the Source and took hold of the raging storm that was the male half of the One Power with a vengeance, diving though the filth of the Taint and tapping the Power before he realized it.

 

Ignoring the urge to spew the contents of his stomach out from the wretchedness of the Taint, Vykor began weaving, taking strands from all five elements for his ward. Sweat instantly broke out on face as he began to weave. Never before had he attempted to take up so many strands of the Power at one time, but he refused to drop any of them with the Dedicated standing at his back looking on.

 

Strands of Fire twisted Air and were in turn anchored to the earth with cords woven from Earth and Water. At the same time, several strands of Spirit were all wove between each of the other strands and stretched tight, pulling the other lines of Power into a shape of a net or a web. At the center of the net and also at the corners Vykor wove the stands together into knots. When he stopped his weaving, Vykor was sucking wind in like a race horse and he could feel his body shaking and sweat streaming down his face. His discomfort and fatigue were all fed into the Flame in his mind, allowing him to remain slightly detached from his body's weakness as he examined his work.

 

In a voice that sounded slightly slurred to his ears, Vykor said "I do not really know what it will do, but I do not think anything passing through that will no come out happy!â€

 

OOC: I was aiming for this weave to be an explosive ward. It would be a very difficult weave for Vykor and hope this is okay. Oh- I hope I wrote you character alright Asfaloth. I was kind of unsure how you would have handled it but you did say we could use Nakor a bit.

Name: Vykor Temmer

Rank: Soldier

Class: Basic Offense/Defense, Basic Elemental Manipulation, and Phys Ed.

 

I am currently in all of these though (or will be after I post to the offense/defense class tonight.

 

The basic elemental manipulation class has stalled though and needs a kick start. :D

Name: Vykor Temmer

 

Rank: Soldier of the Black Tower, but also RPing him as a Dedicated with special permission.

 

Special: Aspirant to Blademaster and holder of the Talent Awesomeness.

I hope it is not too late for me to join- I will post my entry tonight if that is okay.

 

Thanks.

"Vykor, fifty push-ups for your tardiness, once he's done boys, follow me."

 

With nothing else to do and knowing that arguing would be a pointless exercise, Vykor threw himself on the ground and began counting off his punishment. He was still warmed up from his morning sword practice and run to formation, but the strain of the push-ups further wore down his strength and made his arms and chest burn. A fresh batch of sweat was already forming on his brow and he had not even really started the morning run. Another late Soldier dropped down beside him and began knocking out push ups as well.

 

Vykor finished as quickly as he could, but already he had lost sight of the formation of runners. Not wanting to leave a man behind, he waited for the other Soldier to finish his punishment as well and then fell into step with him as he began to run. Vykor did not know the other Soldier's name, but he had seen him around the Farm. Shaking the errant thoughts from his head and focusing on running, Vykor began to wish he had taken the day off of his early morning sword practice. The other man quickle pulled away from Vykor, who was having problems with the sword sheather at his waist. The weapon kept smacking against his legs and catching up his legs, forcing him to keep a tight grip on his weapon to keep it from swinging about wildly, which slowed him because he could not swing his arms properly.

 

Disaster struck on the beginning of the second lap.

 

As he tried to shift his belt a bit and keep the sword out from between his legs, Vykor stumbled slightly as his toe caught on a small tree root. Instinct took over and he released his grip on the leather bound hilt in order to catch his balance. This allowed the sword to swing free and catch between his legs, dropping Vykor like a sack of wet wool. His momentom caused him to slide face first through the dirt of the track. Flailing around slightly, he got himself untangled from his weapon and stood up where he discovered that his misfortune continued.

 

As soon as he set weight upon his right foot a sharp pain stabbed into his ankle. 'Blood and bloody ashes!' he swore to himself. He had sprained it in the fall, and as he looked down at his hands and body, Vykor could see that he was covered from head to toe in dirt and his hands now bore bloody scrapes that began to throb in time with his injured foot and face, which had also suffered some damage from its contact with the compact earth of the track.

 

'Burn me!'he thought. 'I cannot quit and walk back and I cannot afford to show weakness now. They might turn me out like you hear the Aes Sedai do to those women who cannot make it. I have nothing else!' The thought of being turned out heated his blood more then the run did and he quickly decided on a course of action. He unbuckled his sword belt and looped it so that the blade now hung from his back, sword hilt jutting out over his left shoulder. This done he sought the Void and when he had the flame centered in his mind, began to run. As soon as he wounded foot hit the ground, a stab of lightning laced pain show out through the Void, lashing at his calm center and threatened to break him. With each footfall, he took that pain and burned it in the flame of his mind.

 

All thought, emotion, and pain went into that flame; when the cuts in his face and hands began to flare up; when his breathing became labored and a painful stitch formed in his side that threatened to double him over; when the muscles of his legs and arms began to burn.

 

His focus was complete. His whole being and universe was that flame in his mind's eye and feeding the other things around it into the raging fire.

 

He was the flame.

 

And then it was finished. He rounded the final stretch of trail and seen the rest of the Soldiers all in groups, gulping air like a fish; heads hung low and hands on knees as they tried to get their breathing under control.

 

Coming to a stop, Vykor was blowing hard himself, but wrapped in the Void as he was, the pain and discomfort he felt were echoes that only sounded in the back of his mind. One thing did catch is notice though. The smell of smoke, like something left too close to a fire to dry. Looking down, he could see little spots on his black coat that looked as if someone had burned it with a hot coal. Some of the little burn holes actually had a little bit of heat to them. Quickly he patted those areas out and went to stand off to the side so the smell of his burnt coat would not carry to the other men. As his hands smoothed out his coat and shifted his satchel, Vykor noticed that has coat and undershirt were both bone dry but heavily crusted with salt from his sweat. Unsure of what happened or what he should do, Vykor dusted himself off a bit more and waited, wrapped in the Void.

 

Added to the pain of his injuries was the fear of what he had done; all of which was fed to the flame in his mind.

Kalthandrix

 

OOC:

Hi all- here is my arrival, kind of mixed with my bio. I hope you have fun reading it.

 

IC:

Rising up, I brushed the loose straw from my clothes and grabbed up my blanket and satchel. The sun was an hour or two shy from rising, but it was time to leave- better to walk out of the old stable now then to sleep a bit longer and risk having a groom or the stable owner come in and wonder about why I was sleeping on his property. Also, the sooner started; the sooner finished, my father had always told me.

 

Today I would find the Asha’man that were said to be in Tear and I would join them, or I would finally find peace.

 

It seem almost a lifetime ago, but I used to run free in the low hills of the southern most region of the Black Hills near the mouth of the River Kaevin. The village I lived in was little more then a flyspeck, consisting of about twenty-five or so families, but it is my home, or at least it had been before…well, before I killed my best friend Aaryon.

 

We had just both turned seventeen earlier that season and our two families lived so close together that we basically had one very large farm that both families worked. Life was hard but good, getting by with the crops we grew and wool from the black sheep we raised. Aaryon and I were on the small town Green with the whole village, celebrating another season passing and a decent clip from the sheep, laughing and dancing with a couple of the al’Bren girls who we had a fancy for. Light but it had been a day to remember!

 

Burn me but it is all ashes now!

 

I do not know when, but the Meric boys and their cronies had gathered near us on the Green, talking and drinking the young beer that we made locally. Aaryon must have heard what they were saying because he broke off dancing and began shouting at Ryan Meric, the oldest in the group at just shy of turning eighteen. “You had best shout your gob Ryan!†Aaryon yelled, “My family has no reason to be taking anything from your family’s pastures.â€

 

“Well how do you explain that ten of our sheep went missing before the clip, only to show up again less their wool? And how do you explain that it is your families that have the most wool?†Ryan bulled his way through his friend and stuck his finger in Aaryon’s chest. “I can tell you how. It is because you are bloody thiev…uuha!†The last bit coming out as a grunt due to Aaryon planting his fist in the older boys gut.

 

From what I have heard, most battles are a blur, happening quickly and often fading from the mind soon after, but not so for me. Each detail of those second stands out as clearly as a stained-glass window. When Aaryon lashed out, Ryan’s friends rushed in with fists and feet already flying and I charged in to aid Aaryon, and to stuff those filthy accusations back down Ryan’s throat. It turned bad for us quickly! I had no more then kicked Jak DeArn in the V of his legs when pain bloomed in my jaw and stars dance across my vision. I went down like a bale of wet wool and the shoes and boots of those above me started raining down for what seemed hours; one foot grazed my temple and split my scalp, another loosened my teeth, and a host of other boots bruised my body.

 

I remember calmly thinking that I was going die, but that I would not go without a fight. My anger surged and it seemed that the world was freezing and burning at the same time. Striking from the ground, I broke one man’s knee and cleared a space into which I rose up, swinging. My vision narrowed and my blood seemed to burn with the heat of my fury, making my stomach twist as though I would spew everything I had ever eaten on to the ground. And then it happened. I locked eyes with Ryan and raised my hands toward him as I surged forward, intending to throttle him good, but instead a ray of pure fire seemed to fly from my upraised hands.

 

Time seemed to stop and all eyes were on that beam of fire, watching as it sped towards Ryan. Everyone was frozen, except for Aaryon who shoved Ryan aside and took the full blast of fiery fury. I do not think he felt a thing, as his body instantly turned into a cinder that seemed to explode, showering everyone in the area with a find coating of ash and flaming bits.

 

I ran then and have been running and moving from place to place for a good year now.

 

Looking at myself briefly in the glass of a tailor’s window, I could see that the boy I knew had been replaced with a stranger. Standing just a few inches over five and a half feet tall and with dark blond hair, which was going a bit shaggy on me and needed a cut, I was nothing the gleemen would sing about. Farm work had let my body moderately well built, though my cloths were a bit looser now. Moving as I had for the last year, I had taken work when I could and foraged as I could when there was o work to be had, but I always kept moving. The kick I had received to my head had left me with a back-facing crescent shaped scar three inch that began at my temple and curved toward my eye before hooking back. It had also done something to my eye as well, for even though it worked fine, the color had all but bled out of it, leaving me with one eye white as snow and the other a deep emerald green. That eye had kept some folk from giving me work, fearing I was cursed or ill. Light! If only they knew the truth!

 

Turning away from my reflection, I began walking again. I had found out the day before that there were several black coated men staying at an inn called the Silver Pike down by the docks. Traffic was light, as early as it was most decent folk were still abed, so I was making good time. Making a turn down another street, I collided with another man walking around the corner. The first thing I noticed was the black coat with a silver sword on one side of the high collar and a sinuous looking, enameled serpent on the other side. Recovering quickly I stepped back and bowed. Straightening I said, “I heard a rumor of the Dragons Amnesty for men that can channel and I am here to claim it. My name is Vykor Temmer, and all I ask is that you either train me or kill me; at this point I could care less which one you choose to do. Keep me and I will be your man for the rest of my days, or kill me.†And to myself I finished ‘…and let the Light take my soul for killing my best friend.’

 

Estel

 

Walking back to the Stone, Isha kept his head high. To those on the street he would seem nothing more than an insolent veteran, grizzled well before his time. But to those who knew what the black uniform and two pins on his collar meant, he was nothing short of a madman.

 

He kept his mind from the people around him as he waded his way through them on the way to the Stone. It wasn't that he thought himself so far above them, it was just that they couldn't see him as human.

 

Maybe it was his appearance, or maybe his rank, but to anyone who didn't know him- or who couldn't command the Power he could- he was different. Too different to be human.

 

Standing 6'9", he was a good half a foot taller than anyone else. For all he knew, he was the tallest man in the world, never had he met anyone near his height. If he were more concerned with the way people viewed him, he would have cursed the day his mother had given birth to the unusually large baby boy and then died from the rigors of birthing.

 

However, his incredible hieght tended to augment the width of him. Every bit of him was muscled to the point of making him appear almost as large as an Ogier. He would have fit in any managerie as a strongman- or even a freak.

 

The few times he glanced at a man or woman as he passed them, they shivered. A cold, angled face- schooled to hide most of his emotions- held hints of sadness. What could have been a handsome man was marred by scars running the length of him.

 

After half a year of heavy solo missions in the Blight, thin scars crisscrossed every inch of him, though leaving his face bare except for two that he had recieved before ever hearing of the Black Tower.

 

It was these two that destroyed any hope of ever being handsome in the least bit. One curled the edge of his mouth in a sneer as it ran to where it stopped at the corner of his eye. The end of the other was hidden beneath the Shienaran warrior's topknot, and then ran to where it clipped off the tip of his ear.

 

As for the coat and pins, they marked him an Asha'man. A Guardian, in the Old Tongue. Men of the Black Tower were weapons of the Lord Dragon Jarron al'Tannin, Lord of the Morning and saviour of the Earth. A man like them. A man marked for madness and certain death. Men hunted by those who misunderstood them were they.

 

Few things scared Isha Talcontar, a man sworn to giving his life in repayment of a debt he could never achieve. The thing that terrified him most was succombing to the Taint.

 

'The Taint. You feel it already don't you. You feel it now, ebbing away at your sanity...'

 

An angry snarl twisted the scarred face into a bestial expression as he shook his head to rid himself of the thought. As he did so, he knocked down a young man.

 

As the man stared at his black uniform and pins, Isha picked him up as easily as any normal man would a sack of grain and set the boy back on his feet.

 

"Watch where you're going. I doubt you'd want to run into the likes of..." but what he had been about to finsih was cut off as the boy rushed to adress him.

 

"I heard a rumor of the Dragons Amnesty for men that can channel and I am here to claim it. My name is Vykor Temmer, and all I ask is that you either train me or kill me; at this point I could care less which one you choose to do. Keep me and I will be your man for the rest of my days, or kill me.â€

 

The obvious pain in the boy's eyes was something Isha had seen time after time in other young men with this one's strange, desperate request.

 

"Train you we will. Though don't give your loyalty to me boy. I'm not the one who's amnesty will protect you from death at the Reds' hands, though their murders might very well be kinder than the one you will recieve. Light, I sound like Onyx. There is hope yet though. There are things we can still accomplish. Things that we could never do alone without honing our gifts. Yes gifts. Gift and curse, opposites yet so much alike."

 

Grabbing hold of the boy's shoulder- feeling the young man twst in his grip, he loosened it, it was hard to know how hard to hold when you were so much stronger than the average man.

 

Turning into the Stone, the guards nodded to him not bothering to ask his identity. Few men forgot Isha.

 

"You can channel?" he asked, siezing the Source. "Stare into the flame." Isha easily wove a candleflame. Fire was his best element. "Feed all you emotions into it. You are the flame. There is nothing but the flame..." his deep bass voice droned on as Vykor stared at the flickering bit of saidin in his hand. Finally, the towering Asha'man felt the echo of the boy's ability.

 

"You have the ability. Welcome to the ranks of the Black Tower Soldier Vykor Temmer. Welcome to the Lord Dragon's army, and to the handful of men who can 'Weild the Lightnings.'"

 

Kalthandrix

 

Vykor was silent as the huge Asha'man led him into the Stone of Tear, a fortress that had never fallen or been breached- until the Dragon came. He refused to stare or look around like a country yokel, it would not due to be seen as weak or frightened in the presence the Shienaran.

 

"Stare into the flame. Feed all you emotions into it. You are the flame. There is nothing but the flame..." Isha's deep brass voice droned, calming Vykor with his steady cadence.

 

Vykor stared into that Power-wrought flame and let go. He let go of the flood gate holding back his emotion and fed it to that fire; the pain and guilt of killing Aaryon, the rage he felt over the fight that led up to his death: everything went into the fire. He fed that flame with every remnant of his old life, shedding it like a snake sheds it skin.

 

Soon, there was nothing. Nothing but the flame; he was the flame, sitting within this void of nothing, a solitary monolith of calm and peace. Almost quicker then a thought though, there was suddenly a raging sea of fire and ice assaulting his calm, attempting to shatter him and consume everything that he is. He fought to keep those churning seas smooth as glass, to bend this primal force to his will, and for a moment of time he had it, he held that raging sea within him and it was his to do with as he will.

 

Triumphant, he began drawing in the power, but his concentration slipped for but a second and it was gone, whipping around him again. He sought to grab a hold once more, but it was like attempting to catch the wind in a tornado. This raging sea tore at him and began rising up to smother the flame within Vykor's mind, when he just released the flame and opened his eyes.

 

He had not realized that he had closed them, or that he had sat down, but he was seated on the cold stone floor of a hall of some sort within the Stone. He was panting as if he had just run the whole way to his old village from his parent’s house. Sweat soaked his tunic, making it stick to his back and chilling him.

 

Asha'man Isha stood towering above me. "You have the ability. Welcome to the ranks of the Black Tower Soldier Vykor Temmer. Welcome to the Lord Dragon's army, and to the handful of men who can 'Weild the Lightnings." Gazing up, I smiled briefly. There seemed to be a slight look of concern on the other mans face, which was very calm, along with his voice- a calmness that seemed to stiffen up the scarred man, cutting off all emotion. 'Could that brief glimmer I seen in his eyes been worry...or something else.' Well whatever it had been, it was going instantly, almost like a dream.

 

Pushing myself up from the floor and back to my feet. I said, "I live to serve, sir, and thank you. As strange as it may seem, I am eager to begin training and to learn to control this...gift. Lead the way sir and I will follow."

 

Estel

 

"Not strange Vykor. Not strange at all. Most wish to start training quickly for varying reasons. I myself threw myself into training as soon as I arrived at the Black Tower, though for different reasons than you I think. And please, call me Isha. Only in the field should you use titles."

 

Isha wondered whether the man would have any idea by what he meant by 'field'. It was apparant from the boy's apprearance tha he had been on the run for a long time, though what he was before Isha didn't know. His shabby clothes would try to mark him a farmer or tradesman, though few ever kept anything of worth when they were on the run, and silks and weaponry could buy them room and board.

 

Then, turning away from Vykor, Isha seized saidin and wove a Gateway to the Travelling Grounds. It was early morning, and he saw another flash as one of the Recruitment Parties arrived- empty-handed. "The M'Hael will not be pleased with that. Nor Dash." Isha muttered to himself

 

"Follow me." he told the young man as he stepped through the Gateway and stepped over the rope separating it from the rest of the Tower- the rope was waist high on most men, though the giant of a man had only a little trouble getting over it.

 

"This is the Farm, what we affectionally call our home, better known as the Black Tower. The only place in the world we know of that harbours men like ourselves who can channel. Few dare to live here, and the world thinks little of those who call this place home but that is what it is once your training begins, and every man who wears the black is your brother."

 

He pointed off through a sparse trees to the ramshackle farm buildings and hastily built barracks. The Black Tower was the beginnings of a large town or small city, though it had far more order to it's buildings and too few women. Not to mention the general lack of tradesmen, though a few brave souls had set up shop.

 

Kalthandrix

 

"This is the Farm, what we affectionately call our home, better known as the Black Tower. The only place in the world we know of that harbors men like ourselves who can channel. Few dare to live here, and the world thinks little of those who call this place home, but that is what it is once your training begins, and every man who wears the black is your brother." Isha said.

 

Vykor gaze around him as Isha strode off. The Black Tower was...nothing he had expected. It appeared to b nothing more then a growing village. To one side there were several low, thatched roofed buildings that had several groups of men going in and coming out, all with black coats on, though none bore a pin that Vykor could see. 'Soldiers.' he thought, 'Like I am now.'

 

Isha had been in rather deep though when he had stepped over the roping that correned off this area, and had disappeared from Vykor's sight. He stood there, unsure of what to do, and took in all that he could see. 'This is my life now. The old one is nothing to me now but ashes and dreams that have been scatterd by the wind.' Shivering slightly from a chill that had crept upon him he decided to try and find the huge Shienarian. Picking the direction he had seen Isha heading, Vykor started off. He had no more then taken his first step when a hand settled upon his shoulder.

 

"Where you off to, sonny?" The hand, calloused and heavy with liver spots, was attached to a wizen figure of a man. Intense, watery blue eyes that were as sharp as a hawks, peered out from beneath thick shaggy eyebrows. Long white hair was held back from the old mans face by a braided leather cord tied around his brow and a beard, split by a grin, fell almost half way down the fellows chest.

 

"Well...I...uhaa...truly have no idea grandfather." I admitted, slightly flustered that this old man had gotten the drop on me like that. 'Light! I must have been standing there with my mouth open and straw in my hair!'

 

"Ha! It's just like them to leave a raw recruit dangling in the breeze as it were. Not that they do not care, the Asha'man that is, because they do. It is just that there are so few of them with the strength to Travel and they are the ones that have to run the recruiting partys. And oversee the training of the Soldiers and Dedicated. And, well, whatever it is that they must do. Don't you fret thought sonny, I will get you squared away. Names Braen by the way!" The old man's offered hand was hard with calluses and the grip surprising strong.

 

"Vykor Temmer." was the only reply that came to his mind.

 

Eyeing Braen's clothing, a thick weave of good wool made up his tunic and throusers, with a clean cotton shirt underneath. He old man did not wear a cloak but though it was brisk enough to call for one. "Uh..so are you.."

 

"One of the blackcoats? Oh Light no. I came to serve the Lord Dragon in whatever manner I could, but the ability to use the One Power is beyond me. No, I run some of the work crews here on the Farm and oversee some minor aspects of the day-to-day operations. Like seeing that new recruits left on the traveling grounds get off of them before another Gate opens and cuts him in two! Follow me sonny." Vykor did as he was told and refrained from pointing out that he would have been off the... Traveling grounds... minutes ago if not for being stopped by the old man. 'Some battles are better left unfought.' his grandfather used to say when one of the women at the farm would get on the men for tracking dirt into the clean kitchen.

 

Vykor was led off the Traveling grounds, none too soon it seemed for another of those vertical lines of light appeared and seemed to turn as it opened and two men stepped out. Turning back to ensure that he did not loose sight of Braen, he shook he head. 'So much to learn. It is like being born again.' But with that thought he tasted the ashes of his best friend upon his lips again and smothered his feelings.

 

Braen led him through a storeroom, pulling out several sets of small clothes, a new pair of black boots, a belt, cloak of black oiled leather, and two sets of pants and shirts. From another he threw a blanket, sheets, a mess kit, and several other items on the growing pile of things that was threatening to completely block the young man's sight. He was then led to one of those single story thatched roofed building that he had seen upon his arrival.

 

"This will be where you sleep." Braen said. "You have a bed, footlocker, and those hooks to hang your cloak and coats on."

 

"Uh, sir..." I started.

 

"No need to sir me to death sonny, names Braen, and that will do well enough!" the old man interjected.

 

"Well then...Braen. I do not have a coat."

 

"I know that young man. I am old, not senile! You will be given your black coat by your mentor. Now follow me! I am sure that I heard Asha'man Isha tell you to follow him. I will show you to his house." The last was said with a slight grin, telling Vykor that he was most likely in for it when he found Isha. Putting all of his clothing and gear, except for his sachel, into the footlocker, Vykor practically ran out of the barracks to catch up to Braen.

 

The walk was rather short and before Vykor knew it he was standing before a door with Braen knocking on the thick wood.

 

Estel

 

Wondering where the boy could have possibly disappeared to, Isha waited for him in the small courtyard his home made. He had just been informed that the boy was to be him new mentee, so someone would eventually have to direct him towards the house.

 

It had taken Isha over a month to build the entire home, even with Linten and Ben's help, all assisted by the use of the One Power. It was large- compared to the houses of the other Asha'man- about as big as Dashiva's. Completely made of stone, it almost had the lookings of a tiny fortress.

 

After campaigning hard in the Blight for the last six months, Isha had become more and more concerned with the safety of the Tower. The Dark One wouldn't let them gain strength unopposed for long. Sooner or later there would be a clash, and Isha would be ready.

 

The small house was on the North end of the Tower Grounds, with the small archway to the miniature courtyard- as large as a medium-sized room- facing south. His living quarters made up the North wall of the fortress while his stable fabricated the west wall. Attatched to both stable and home was another wing running North-South opposite the stable consisting of rooms for four men-in-training.

 

The giant Asha'man had been forced to create the house to match his size, and therefore the cielings had ended up being ten-feet high to accomadate him. With high doors, and broad hallways, you'd have almost thought it was built for an Ogier.

 

Though the entire house was only one floor, two tiny towers created a second floor, the roofs standing twenty feet above the ground. From each tower you could see the entire Black Tower spread out around them. With a windown facing each direction, you could rain destruction on any enemy coming at you from the forests.

 

Leaning against the wall of his home, Isha awaited his new mentee.

 

Kalthandrix

 

Braen knocked several times, but there was no answer. "Hummm. Well maybe we should try around the other side. His house is pretty big and it could be that Asha'man Isha is occupied at the moment. So around to the front it is for you sonny. You shouldn't be lurking around people’s back doors anyway. It's rude! Go on now; I got some other work to get finished before I break my fast for the morning." And with that the old stick of a man walked off, leaving Vykor to once again swallow his words. Shaking his head and signing softly, he walked around the house to find the front door.

 

He was reminded that he had yet to break his fast for this day yet when his stomach rumbled. He sighed again. He had a heel of dark bread and a half of a sausage in his satchel, along with a bit of coin and other personal items. The small bit of coin he had was salvaged from the few jobs he had had that actually paid, hoarded against those times of dire need. Signing, he knew food would have to wait.

 

Vykor turned the corner of the large stone house, realizing that for the first time that is had a bit of wall encircling the sides and front of the house- like a small fortress. He found a small archway that led into an open courtyard and there, lounging against a wall of the house was Asha'man Isha, looking for all of his ease like a huge lion, watchful and ready to strike.

 

With nothing else to do, Vykor walked in, head held high and all signs of emotion gone from his features. Locking his mismatched eyes on the Asha'man's scared features he stopped a pace away from the other man and bowed slightly, unsure of what was to come next.

 

Estel

 

Isha nodded as his mentee finally showed. Gesturing with his head, he opened the door and Vykor followed. "You can put your things in one of the rooms in the East Wing. You'll be living in my house during the course of your training, which I suggest you throw yourself into whole-heartedly."

 

Isha sat down at his high-backed armchair and began to read a book- on tactics used in the Blight by some of the greatest campaigners to ever grace the Borderlands. The rooms Isha had built onto his home to house mentees were relatively small, with a bed, wardrobe, and chest of drawers topped by a basin of water and a mirror. Each of the fours rooms were only about ten feet by ten feet, with a small window facing east in each one.

 

When Vykor returned, Isha closed his book and scrutinized the boy for a minute before telling him to sit down in one of the other chairs that were crowded around the fireplace.

 

The boy was decently built, which would help with his physical training, and he seemed quiet and reserved, which was quite different from his former mentee Linten. Isha couldn't place his dialect, which meant he wasn't a Borderlander.

 

"So, you are Vykor Tremmer. From where, and what drove you to flee?"

 

Kalthandrix

 

"So, you are Vykor Tremmer. From where, and what drove you to flee?"

 

"Well sir, there is not much to tell really. On the day I discovered I could channel I left my village." 'because I killed my best friend with the Power, damning my soul!' The words beat at his mind but he refused to give voice to them. "I had been wandering from place to place for about a year when word of the Anmesty came to me and I headed directly to Tear."

 

It had been a lonely year too. Never staying in a place too long or getting too close to anyone. His first thoughts when he fled the Green in his village was that he should die for what he had just done and he ran until he could not run anymore and just collapsed in the dirt. He did not sleep; the sight of that ray of fire hitting Aaryon kept running through his mind. He was covered in a fine gray ash, streaked where runnels of sweat had made tracks, but the taste of them was still thick on his tongue. When he was able again, Vykor had gotten back up and ran again. He had no particular place he was headed, but his feet took him to a bend in the river that had a thirty foot high bank and a field of sharp rocks the water thrashed through, whipping the water into a white fury. Looking over that bank and at those rocks, he stood there for hours, just looking. 'I deserve to die.' was the thought that kept running through his mind, but in the end, his courage had failed him and he was not able to throw himself over that edge.

 

Looking at Isha and then swiftly refocusing his gaze to the fire he said, "That is about it really, sir."

 

'Better to keep it buried.’ he thought, ‘I do not think I could stand it if he knew the truth.' So he sat there, rubbing the leather of his satchel, and watched the flames lick at the logs in the fire.

 

Estel

 

Isha simply nodded. Then after a moment's silence, he broke it and spoke. His voice sounded tired and worn, and so he was for the topic of which he spoke always left him that way. The war he could not win and the debt he could not repay.

 

"You are one of the lucky ones then, boy. Few can tell of such an easy life here. Most were driven here, or taken from their homes. Others ran from deeds they did, and others came to learn to command Power for their own benefits, and still other to gain Power that could help them better accomplish something that could not be accomplished. I am one of the last."

 

Rather than look at Vykor, Isha stared out the window. North, towards the Blight and where his work lay.

 

'You truly are a madman to try and win this war. You won't settle for anything less will you. You are mad. MAD!'

 

Isha didn't quiet the voice though, and it was difficult to ignore it. Was it true? Even if it wasn't, how far from the truth was it?

 

Kalthandrix

 

"Something that cannot be accomplished, sir?"

 

The fire popped suddenly as the sap inside ignited, sending a blazing ember shooting out of the fire and on to the floor before the grate. Hopping up from his seat, Vykor took up the small coal shovel standing beside the fireplace and scooped it back into the fire.

 

As he put the shovel back in its rack, he said "My grandfather always said 'Do what you can, when you can; Light willing, it will be enough.'" Taking up the fire iron, Vykor stabbed it into the flames, poking and shifting the burning logs. It was not something that needed to be done, but it kept him from looking at Isha. "I guess I don't know much of the larger world sir, but those words always seemed to ring true to me, if you don't mind my saying."

 

Estel

 

Isha shook his head bitterly. "This is something I must do, though I know it is impossible. ' Duty is heavier than a mountain, death lighter than a feather.' This is my duty, and I will die doing it. The scars of my body attest to the fact that I am working, but Blight's existance mocks me. It is the very thing I'm trying to destroy, and yet nothing I could ever do would destroy it."

 

The Asha'man suddenly felt old and tired. He knew what his life held: nothing but war- blood and steel- and madness.

 

Kalthandrix

 

Tugging on the neck of his new black coat and looking into the fire, Vykor reflected upon the grim comment made by Isha. 'Is this what awaits me?' he thought.

 

Before he could continue he contemplation, his stomach gave a huge rumble. Turning red with embarrassment, he smiled sheepishly at his mentor. "Ahha...sorry. I have yet to break my fast sir. I did not have time this morning and well, with everything that has been happening so far today, my head spinning with it all and I plumb forgot, though to my embarrassment it appears that my gut has not. Is there anything to eat around here?"

Thanks Aldazar- I was really getting flustered becasue I would not post!

 

Its all good now and Kalthandrix the Dread, Flayer of Halflings now walks this board... Know fear mortals and...short people

 

Wait. Wrong board! This is not Dark Sun. :D

 

Oh I guess I will be Vykor Temmer here, Soldier of the Black Tower then (but you should still be scared).

Hey all- I know that some of you know me from the other board, but for introductions sake, I am Kalthandrix, aka Lord Kalthandrix (because I typed the wrong e-mail and had to add Lord to my screen name).

 

Anyway- I cannot seem to be able to post to the RP area.

 

Help please.

 

Oh yeah- SPAM! (just to keep the continuity of the messages so far)