Via nodded gently at Daemon's request. He lowered his lef hand across to his sword on his right hip. while his right arm looped around underneith the scabbard. Via's grip tightend instintivly on his sword hilt. He felt a prang of worry and guilt creep up his spine as he slowly drew his sword over his arm, its hilt pointing towards Daemon in offering. He hadn't ever handed his fathers sword over to anyone since it was taken from his father's hand.

This man Daemon certainly offered him no ill will and seemed genuine. He looked down at the sword cradled in his arms, it was a simple sword but it meant alot to him. It was an arming sword which is a shorter equivilant of a long sword. Its blade about as long as his full arm but its weight was mercifully light due to its length which meant speed at the cost of length.

(QUALITY NOT QUANTITY. NO APOLOGIES NESSICARY MY FRIEND)

Suddenly as if out of nowhere he was was approached by a curly haired well dressed woman who he assumed ran the yard. He was about to say 'Hello' but before he could offer a fake smile his eyes widened as he took in the enfilade of words like 'pledging your life' and 'full weight of commitments' and 'being a sword and shield'.

She barated a young trainee and then turned her gaze back to him. He readied himself for another torrent self-important blather but aside from calling him child, she limited her wrath to two simple questions: His name and his commitment.

He looked at her outwardly showing a display of respect although he felt none. Not that he dis-repected the woman but he knew better than to judge people on their first apperance. It had cost him a few scars in the past and he had realised this was a woman not to be under estimated or under respected, even if she did see her job as important as the Queens personal guard.

He inclined his head and spoke quietly though he prefered it when he didn't have to when he did it was never loud, "My name is Via Than, son of Meacham Than of Andor." he repressed a sigh at his fathers name as he felt a stab of pain in his heart. He looked up to avoid letting it show he looked her in the eye and nodded gently, "I am still here and willing. My sword is The Tower's.."

Gently putting down his burdens by the wall where he wasn't going to knock them over he stood away from the wall resting his hands on the pommel of his sword. He lowered his eyes for a moment and thought best about how to proceed. To explain straight out most folk would consider him a murderder or a physcopath.... Maybe he was perhaps to sidestep the details with a favourable account of the truth.

"This was my step-fathers weapon and I grew up with him. I know how to tend for it better than I know how to tie my laces. He was a guardsman of city.. In a way, so was I.. I specialised in the protection of women who couldn't protect themselves. It could be a bloody business, Though I lack finess of those with formal training I am adept with the basic slash, thrust and block. I never had need for much more mind as most that I dealt with during my time back home were little more than footpads and excited drunks."

He finished and supressed a grimace wondering if he had said too much, often feeling a little uneasy when having to say as much as that in one go. Ever since he was a child he prefered silence to talking. Always worried about oversteping his mark or saying the wrong thing. Sometimes he just remembered the silence following a violent part of his childhood. Silence brought him a warped sense of peace from scars that run deep.

Moving out of the sun he stepped casually a little closer to the wall and turned to look at Daemon wondering if his answer was going to be sufficent and to try judge his reactions, out of the glare of the sun.

Walking into the armory he felt the cool hit his face as the sun seemed to be beating down alot more of late which might make training hard but it was better than in the freezing cold. His first impressions of his mentor were good, he seemed like a reliable man, uncorrupted and seemingly happy in his job. He walked through the armory and saw a man in uniform sweeping up the floor. He looked up and smiled and said, "Hello there! Fresh meat for the walls aye with aspirations of being a warder." He chuckeled to himself and Via wondered if all were so happy in this city. He nodded a hello back and the man piped up again, "Looking to upgrade your broadsword for something with a little more kick to it?"

Via didn't bother to explain the correct name is an arming sword and that it was quite sufficent for what he did with it. He simply shrugged, "Just browsing" he found a table full of small corked bottles of oil and folded rags. He picked them up and chose out a good sharpening stone. Putting a couple with cracks to one side. He was about to leave then stopped infront of the armour section and picked up a aketon for training Via heard a cheerful, "see you!" as he was walking out the door. He didn't bother resopnding to the over enthusiastic man inside. Walking upto Daemon. The folded up aketon under his arm he held up his right hand holding his oil and rag while the other held his sharpening stone. He simply said, "ready.."

Waking up in his shared quarters in the trainee’s barracks he realized it was still about an half an hour before his mentor was scheduled to arrive. He lay on his back staring up at the ceiling, watching as the rays of sun slowly crept across the ceiling and touched the far wall. Getting up he realized the two beds in the room were empty: Early risers perhaps. He shrugged off his bed clothes and walked across the stone floor. It was a crisp morning to be sure. Though the sun was warming the room, the temperature was nothing on being in bed. He fought the temptation to get back in with better judgment.

He watched the water pour hot from the pitcher into the large bowl in front of him. He dunked his head under the water, his daily ritual before washing. Washing and shaving certainly helped get rid of the morning cobwebs. He looked into the old mirror in front of him and looked down at his scarred body. He had the occasional scars on his torso and his forearms looked like a one clawed cat had thought he was a post. He lent forward and took a deep breath almost gasping as he gripped the table in front of him. The wood creaking under his fingers as his knuckles whitened. His eyes went wide and his reflection seemed so far away and the room seemed so alien. He closed his eyes for a moment and he breathed heavily as his world returned to normal and his reflection once again became just his reflection and the room; only a room.

Blinking he let out a sign and he straightened up, “Today I become something he always wanted me to be but I never wanted for myself. And in a city with no crime no less.” Frowning, “at least I might learn a tick or two.” He shrugged and turned back to his pack he pulled out a pair of undershorts, dark brown pants and a white shirt. He threw them on and ran his fingers through his hair before picking up his sword belt. He held his sheathed sword in his hands and sat down on his bed, “I hope your happy, Father. But rest assured my work isn’t done yet” He almost smiled at the silliness of talking to his stepfather through his sword and swung the brown leather belt around his waist and hung it from his right hip.

NICE thanks for the advice. Got assigned my mentor today which is cool. can't wait to crack on. Though I don't think Via would be very good on the lovin front. hes pretty emotionally scared but having said that he does have an idolisation of women almost so I don't know how that would work out really. Hadn't thought about it really. Hehe I'd love to play but it might be abit premature for Via as hes barely arrived :P

oh thats cold. lol

unfortuantly my warder to be still hasn't even gotten into the gate. :P still waiting at the training yard for MoT :P

Thankyou my friend :)

Just posted my first post. Been working on it since I finished my bio about a week ago so it turned out fairly long :P

The carriage rolled through the gates of Tar Valon having just past the bridge he jumped down off the back as it slowed to a stop out front of a modest but respectable inn seemingly populated by merchants from all corners of the land. His aunt had paid the driver before hand and gave him a small purse with 10 silver pieces and a note. He walked off down the streets of this strange new city. The driver called out goodbye but as Via didn't turn he just shrugged and grumbled about strange folk and let him be.

Via walked down the strange road and read his aunt's small curving writing as he walked dodging carts, horses, carriages and people as they came closer out of unconscious awareness as he read,

Dear Via,

With the death of your father due to your actions; you understand, you can no longer stay with our family. It's not safe for you, for me or my son to have you living here where you've been so known to the criminal element. Please accept this small amount of silver I could gather up and let it be some help in starting a new life in your new city. Please do not rely too heavily on your father's sword for it has brought you nothing but death which will eventually be your undoing as it was his. There is a place for people like you in the world and you can do great things... Follow the life of the shield, not the sword.

With terrible amounts of love,

Auntie Sahar

Folding the paper over he put in it his coat pocket. He was modestly dressed in a pair of dark brown slacks and a simple white shirt and dark brown coat with simple arming sword with a blackened wooden grip and a brown scabbard. He adjusted his large knapsack on his shoulder that contained 3 change of clothes and what little remained of his food packed for the trip along with a shaving kit.

Looking up, his eyes widened as he examined the city proper for the first time. Its huge size dwarfed him as he took in its foreign architecture, strange residents and the looming White Tower, standing tall over all like a finger of the creator. It was beautiful, clean and people seemed generally happy. If only everything in life was like it was on the surface...

Shifting his pack on his shoulder with his left hand he rested his right on his sword hilt and walked off through the city in search of a cheap inn to stay at until he could work out his aunt's somewhat cryptic message. At least it was cryptic to him for he knew little of life outside of Caemlyn and nothing of the affairs of The White Tower.

The prospects of living in such a large city were large in themselves; for Caemlyn was large and footpads were aplenty surely a city that made his old home seemed small would keep him busy in his work for months maybe even years as city guards were surly the same the world over doing the best at what they may but often keeping the streets only to a certain level of safety.

He frowned thinking it might take him weeks yet till he learnt his way around a place like this. Getting to know where the trouble spots were and where he could make the most amount of difference. That was his ultimate goal and has been his goal for the last 9 years. Violent men preying on unsuspecting women just like his father who had killed his mother so many years ago. He would protect, he would save.. Maybe this was why his aunt had sent him here. A city of this size offered him the chance to really make a difference.

He realized he was fingering the pummel of his sword and stopped, gripping the wooden grip. He had helped in his own way cutting down the footpads in Caemlyn but surely in a place like this his skills were more needed as was suggested in his aunt's letter.

Stopping in the street his nostrils filled with the scent of fresh steak and pastry as a large barrel gutted man rolled a cart with fresh pies down the road. He wasn't particularly hungry but his watering mouth got the better of him. Strolling over he re-adjusted his pack and forced a smile the best he could, "Just one, my friend" My friend was one of those phrases he found was usually good to slip in before you started asking questions.

Handing over a sliver for the pile he got back a small mound of lesser coins which he casually dropped into his pocket. Being handed the savory he took a bite out of it and almost cringed at its fatty slightly undercooked texture, "Mmm! Just like my aunt's back home...Thank you... Say... working on the streets selling you must have a fair amount of thievery to worry about." The merchant laughed, "Thievery... you obviously are new to this city!" and he trotted off down the road leaving Via there with pie in hand and a puzzled look on his face.

Perhaps he would have to buy a few cheap drinks in a few cheap taverns and see what he can find out about the workings of this city and where the biggest difference can be made. One would think that the pie vendor would be adept to spotting the city thieves but obviously from the hawkers reaction it was worse than it seemed.

It seemed funny to him as he walked through the bustling streets of Tar Valon, why did his aunt emphasize in her letter that she didn't support his work yet send him to a new city where he could 'do great things.' Maybe someone in this city could shed some light on the whys and hows.

That evening he frowned stepping out of a tavern. He’d lost count how many he’d been to but he’d spent half his coins buying drinks left right and center and still the most he had to show for it was a few laughs in his face and the occasional advice to visit a training yard near the large tower at the city’s center. He certainly didn’t want to spend his days guarding city gates but with depleting funds and no family to rely on he might just have to do that. Hopefully hunting tonight might prove more successful. Relieving a footpad of a couple of coins made no difference to him. Stealing stolen money was helping contribute to its prevention. He had always rejected the philosophy out of hand but it may have to be the case.

He shook his head and walked back into the inn, “The Last Stand… the borderline irony…” he realised me must’ve been mumbling as he looked up and saw the inn keeper smiling back at him polishing a shiny steel mug, “decided to stay for another round did’ja?” Via’s head lightly shook and he quietly asked, “Do you have any rooms for rent. I can pay up front.. by the night. Not sure how long I’ll be able to stay…” the Inn keeper’s smile broadened a fraction and he put the mug up on the shelf, “Pay up as you leave, I trust you… You have a look about you…” Via forced a smile and the inn keeper offered to take his bag upstairs.

Via handed him the bag and bowed his head with a quiet, “Thanks” and then slipped out the door back onto the bustling street. The sun was dimming and he thought to himself, “Tonight’s the night.. One way or the other I’ll find what I’m looking for.” It amazed him at how seemingly ignorant people are of the crime in their own city. Some actually spouted, “Footpads don’t exist in Tar Valon” which was about as ignorant to him as wanting peaches for dessert.

First he headed south and hung around what Tar Valon considered dock side taverns which as it turned out were just as well kept as the inner city taverns. He kept to the shadows all night and didn’t even see much of the city guard but there wasn’t so much as one cutpurse the whole night. Dropping down into his bed two hours before sunrise he lay awake puzzling over how a city could be so large and be so devoid of crime.

Yawning and swung his feet out of bed and blinked his eyes several times. He Looked down to find himself still in his clothes from the night before. Thankfully he had had the presence of mind to take his sword belt off before laying down.

Walking over to the a mirror with a wash basin beneath it. He tested the water, which was left for him last night. It was at room temperature but warm enough. Taking off his shirt he threw it on the bed before dunking his head down into the large bowl in front of him. Holding it there for about thirty seconds, he pulled his head out and shook his head with a refreshed joy. He pushed his hair back and raked it with his fingers to get it to sit right. He walked over and found his pack sitting in the corner of the room.

Walking out of The Last Stand, he felt like a new man. Clean shaven and his just above shoulder length hair raked back and still drying.  He cracked his neck and took in a deep breath of air. A new day, a new city. It almost felt positive before he remembered where he was walking. With no crime that he could find and no family he was running dangerously low on money and the only answer that was running through his head was the training yard near the tower that he heard so much about.

Pulling the letter from his coat pocket again he re-read it as he was walking, “There is a place for people like you in the world and you can do great things... Follow the life of the shield, not the sword.” This particular line irked him as he had no idea what she was talking about. But as she’d told him in the past, “The pattern has a place for us all and whether we like it or not we fill in the big picture” As he lowered the letter again he looked up. The tower looked a lot bigger first hand than it did at other parts of the city. He tried to guess it’s height and shook his head almost in wonder. It wasn’t till he looked down he realized where his idle walking had brought him. The entrance to the much mentioned training yard. He wasn’t looking forward to the gate duty it almost certainly involved but it was better than selling pies. At least this way he might get to find out the real trouble spots, convinced there must be some. And hopefully be able to really make a difference, opposed to his failed foray the night before.

Woo-hoo! first part of bio check done :P just waiting on the CC now ;)

PG-13 doesn't mean much with how kids are these days :P what was PG-13 is really PG-8 :P

lol im already upto 16 hours logged in lol i spend too much time on this thing between work and home..

I'm glad your here to ask those questions so I don't have to  ;)

:o

Gee thanks, Nephitess :) You all seem like a great bunch of people all beit a little strange :P looks like I will fit in well.

Hehe I've been 'editing' my first post for the better part of a week now and its getting a mite long :P lol

Thats not The Holy Hand Grendae of Antioch, is it Estel?

hehe Thats okay It's always good to get a feel for the atmosphere of a place before you join in on the RP and the antics and being as my hands are still tied on the rp front its a welcome relief from clicking refresh ever 25 seconds on the bio page ;)

(i wish i was joking..... :-[)

<.<    >.>

*starts looking for somewhere else to WOT rp*

I kidd, I kidd!

Hehe. Thankyou for your welcome. I just hope my bio gets approved quickly so I can jump on it :P I've been checking about three times a day (which is a little sad in itself) :P I've even written out my post and edited it twice after all ready for my first post on my entrance to the city but I understand approval processes take time and for good reasons.

Thankyou M'lady.

I appreciate the point in the right direction. :) I think I will enjoy spending my time here...

V

Greetings!

Looking forward to joining in on some roleplay at DM I'm a rper from way back. Been RPing since 99. Mostly on chatbased RP.

Really looking forward to cracking into this as soon as my bio gets approved by the powers at be. I've set up my character with the purpose to becoming a warder down the track... question.. how does one actually become a warder. I know in WOT it was mostly if a sister liked the cut of your gib she'd ask you etc. Just wondering how it works around here. Or do i just roll on up to the WT and fill out an application form, name, address, pidgeon carrier number, previous employer, personal refrences and the like? :P