cool

I'm in

what board and whats going on?

anarchy is my favorite kind of archy! mwahahaha

thats cool congrats, my friend. I'm in the middle of planning a wedding myself. Vegas baby!

Its good! Going back to school and getting paid for it so I'm only working like 2 days a week. Its funny cause I demoted myself which I would think Jaem had done. If I could come back even as just a sergeant or lieutenant that would be cool. If not maybe I'll just start a new character.

Hows it goin with you?

Is Jaem dead or did he just step down? I think it might be about that time...

JC

I still have the Special Reports board, but nothing else. I'm ready to come back, as a new character if I have to

Is there anything going on that I can jump into?

I should change to Myrddraal I'm such a Lurk!

But I'm here... just moving... again

I was doing a dream lesson, but it might be way late for that. Anywho... I'm for hire

Slaya

Ah ha! Look I'm here!

*scampers*

lol... that sounds long

*thinks of what he can torture you all with while he's still in charge*

*goes back into hiding*

lol... its not that important, just something I noticed. I don't look too much into numbers and such anymore.

I have one too... not that it really matters, but Peaten hasn't had a 15 WS since 2000. He had gotten up to 20. But like I said, it doesn't matter.

The Tower of the Black Dawn

The following week was long indeed. Memnoch was not so talkative as that first night, and the sun was relentless. The horrors of the Blight seemed to be of no concern to his guide. He walked with the deadly grace of a seasoned warrior. His sword seemed almost an extension of him. On the third day, as they made their way over the mountains, a Myrddraal joined them. From then on, they were indeed left alone... and the journey was made all the more uncomfortable.

He had heard stories of the Eyeless, yet they hardly did Kjasic any justice. He was terrifying. It took all the strength he had not to turn and run. Again, Memnoch seemed to have little to no concern. They seemed to know each other, which made Peaten both relieved and afraid. What kind of man was this?

On the eighth night, they slept in a Trolloc camp. This was apparently their territory and to not do so would be a high dishonor. Again, Memnoch seemed un-phased. He was able to communicate with their Cheiftan in its own Tongue. The mystery of this man kept growing. Memnoch and Kjasic were treated as honored guests. They looked at Peaten like food. They made eatting noises all night outside of his tent. He heard Memnoch laughing as if it were some great joke. Needless to say, Peaten didn't sleep that night.

In the morning, Peaten and Memnoch left alone. It seemed now that they were in friendly territory Kjasic didn't see the need to continue with them. And it didn't like the place they were going.

At around noon on the tenth day, Peaten caught his first glimpse of the Tower of the Black Dawn. At first it looked like a pile of dark stone in the distance. As they got closer it turned into a mighty fortress, that looked like a cross between the White Tower and one of the Borderland strongholds. It was breathtaking. By the time they came to the gates, it was nearly sunset. Peaten could hear the ringing of metal on metal coming from inside.

"Who would come into the Tower of the Black Dawn?" A voice called from on top of the gate.

"Memnoch, Apprentice Blood Seeker. I come with a candidate for training."

"Then under the name of the Great Lord, enter."

As the gate opened, Peaten's mind started racing. Memnoch was only an Apprentice? And Peaten was a candidate for some kind of training he had never heard of? There was no choice, though. How could he say no? Even if they let him go, he would die by sunrise. So he stepped in after Memnoch.

He was too mesmorized by the Tower itself to more than just notice the hundreds of men and women in a deadly dance all around him. How could such a structure be in the Blight? And who would want to put one here?

"Apprentice Memnoch." A voice called to the left of them. "So I see you've come back with a friend. Was this your great quest?"

Both Peaten and Memnoch turned towards the voice. Memnoch saluted with a fist to the chest. The man made Memnoch, who Peaten had already given the title of 'world's deadliest man', look like a cub next to a full grown Alpha wolf. "Master Silence. Yes, I believe he is my great quest. He is a Friend of the Dark. His name is Peaten al'Kar."

"Al'Kar, you say?" Silence nodded. "Perhaps his blood will get him through his training. Take him to one of the empty chambers, get him proper clothing and a meal." He sniffed the air. "And a bath. His training begins tomorrow."

just letting you guys know I'm alive. Got your PM Quib.... s'all good :D That would acctually be a relief to Jaem IC.

This was definately not his scene anymore. Six or seven years ago, Jaem Caran would have been feasting and drinking and dancing with all the rest. Things were different then. He wasn't the Commander, first of all, only a Banner Captain. Even as Captain General, he would have let himself have fun though. It wasn't his rank. He had seen the best and the worst life had to offer. He had seen the glory of the Light at it's finest. He had also looked into the very heart of the Shadow. This little party was for the young and inexperienced. He looked over to his command staff. They were seeming to have a good time. They were far from inexperienced... or young. He bit into his mutton and sipped his water. He felt a hand clap his shoulder. "Drink up, Jaem." Modi handed him a mug of ale. "Its a party!"

"Modi, you know I don't drink anymore." He couldn't. It made him into a pitiful shell that he had to live in for five years. Besides, he was in training. He needed his body to be finely honed to maintain the skills of a Blademaster.

"Aw, come on! One drink won't kill you."

He looked into the cold mug. It had a nice fizzy head on it. The color was a perfect gold. It wouldn't really kill him. He could drink five and not be drunk. "Ah, why bloody not!" He took a sip... and it was magical. Once it hit his lips... so... good...

its up. and I decided to finally bring in my ter'angreal. its a red hand that inspires courage, sort of like the crystal throne inspires awe. its only supposed to be for battle, but hey, why not add a little bravado to our little night.

Jaem sneered in the mirror as he fastened the last button on his dress coat. With all the layers and buttons and accesories, and only one working hand, it had taken him nearly an hour just to get dressed. Finally, he put on the last accessory. It was a stone hand, red, oddly enough. At least, he thought it was stone. It felt like unbreakable rock, but looked like laquered red glass. He had never bothered to ask questions when he found it a few months before he returned to the Band. He thought it may be one of those ter'angreal he had seen in the White Tower, but even if it was, he couldn't use the One Power, so it was only a prosthetic hand for him. It fastened with a strap that tied around his forearm where his hand had been cut off. It seemed a flimsy way to put it on, but somehow it had never fallen off unless Jaem untied it himself. As he put it on, he felt a renewed sense of pride. He looked again in the mirror and saw the true image of the Commander of the Band of the Red Hand. He stood straight and tall, taller than most men, especially here in the Two Rivers. The red coat and black trousers hugged his muscular form so he looked once more like the young man who had trained with Warders and killed Myrrdraal. His light sword hung from his hip. With that sword he could fight anything; man, beast or shadowspawn. He was Jaem Caran, Blademaster, Commander of the single most powerful army on the planet.

Smiling, he left his quarters. Even the scar across his face made him feel more deadly. He walked through the light cover of snow on the ground, the reason for the gala. As he mounted his tall red horse, he felt as one of the Four Horsemen of Tarmon Gai'don. Jaem, the Red Conqueror. He liked the sound of that. Then he stopped himself. The Band were not conquerors, they were protectors. Still, they were a powerful force. Idly, he thought of another run at Tarwin's Gap. No. That would come soon enough, he thought, there were other uses for the Band right now.

As he trotted through the streets, he lifted up his red hand, and soldiers cheered. They lifted their weapons and asked when they would have the chance to face Trollocs again. "Soon, my friends." Was Jaem's answer every time. Odd, they never did that when he was riding before, or almost never. Must be the outfit.

He arrived to the hall where hundreds of others waited for him so they could enter and start the festivities. He gave his horse to one of the stablehands and waded his way to the door. "Friends," He finally called out when he was in front of them all, "Soldiers, Officers, Brothers and Sisters. My appologies for tardiness. Enter now, and celebrate!"

yes. my next day off is tuesday, if no one has started it by then, I will

Destiny

The scorching sun blazed overhead, somehow giving off more heat that it should have. He had been in the Blight for no more than a few hours, and he was already regretting coming. Why had he even come in the first place?

Destiny.

It was the only acceptable answer. He was a prince of Malkier once. Peaten al'Kar, son of Bain al'Kar, younger brother to the last King of Malkier. When the Trollocs destroyed his homeland and killed his father and uncle, Peaten's mother fled south with her five children. Peaten was only two.

She took them to a small village on the outskirts of Caemlyn, where they lived dirt poor. How ever much he loved his mother, he would never forgive her for that mistake. If they had gone anywhere in the Borderlands they would have stayed nobility, as was their birthright. Instead the starved more often than not.

When his oldest brother, Marten, turned sixteen he left the family to join the Children of the Light, where he vowed to avenge the loss of his kingdom as the eldest surviving male of the royal family. Marten was a fool. At around the same time, when Peaten was eight, he fell in with a group of street kids from Caemlyn. As the new man of the house, it was his obligation to provide for his family. He started out as a common pickpocket, using what he was able to steal to pair with the game he hunted in the woods. As he grew older, he got bigger and stronger. When he was ten, he was nearly as tall as some adults. Soon he was able to move into outright robbery, as well as taking what he wanted from the other boys.

When he was twelve, he was allowed into the local Theives Guild. At thirteen he was known well enough to have been recruited by the local Darkfriend Circle. There he was taught a new way of thinking. Bad was good if there was a reason behind it. He could now justify his actions, to save his family. Soon he found a greater calling... Malkier.

Which brought him here now. He was going to die soon, he was certain of it. Thirst, heat exhaustion or some monster of the Blight would take him. This was not how it was supposed to be. Truth be told, he didn't know what he'd find here, but this definately wasn't it. Dying alone in the Blight at the age of fourteen was not a happy ending to this Prince's tale.

"You're wandering far away from any towns, boy." A deep voice called from the top of a small hill.

This was it, he had finally cracked. He was hearing voices. He was even imagining the man coming towards him. "Who are you?" Was all he could croak out. His voice held little strength in it.

"I am called Memnoch. You must be the reason I'm here. I was wondering if I had gone mad. The Masters certainly thought so." It was too much. Peaten collapsed into a heap.

When he came back around, it was night. There was a small fire next to him. Across from it sat Memnoch. "No need to worry, boy, you'll live through the night." He was studying him. "Why you, I wonder? Who sent you?"

"I... I don't know. Nobody. I came for Mal..." He stopped, regretting even starting the sentence.

"Malkier?" He nodded thoughtfully. "The Great Lord of the Dark works in mysterious ways. You should sleep. We have a long walk ahead of us, Borderlander."

"Where are we going?"

"To the Tower of the Black Dawn. I think it is your destiny."

well damn  >:(

I wanna kill something *eyes the lowliest darkfriends*

then its settled. The Band of the Red Hand Snow Ball! *wanders off to spiffy up*

No more popping in once a month. I'm back *g*

*pokes Quibby* what now?

JC

El Comandante

back 100%! Anyone need to kill anything?

sweet, now we just need a reason