The wind shifted to the west, and Torvus adjusted his aim a little to compensate. The weight of his crossbow was starting to strain his arms, but it was less strenuous than trying to pull a heavy horsebow, which was awkward on the best of days. Torvus's bow, the one he could shoot while strapping his right hand to the grip, was nearby but he decided not to use it today, as he had a horrible grouping of bruises on his arms from a brawl and they still smarted.

He was at the long range today, wanting to be away from the trainees shooting at close butts at the Tower complex. He didn't know which annoyed him more, their ineptitude or the ones that were already better archers with half the training.

There, steady, raise the tip just a bit... Torvus eyed the gap between his bolt and the hay-stuffed target, some two-hundred fifty paces away. He was lost in concentration, so deep in the void he did not see anyone approach. He realized he'd been holding his breath, and slowly exhaled, gently squeezed the trigger. The bolt hurled from the crossbow, shaking his sore ribs with recoil. He saw the quarrel speed away, the leather vanes stabilizing the flight. It was good... It was good... Oh wait...

"Blood and Ashes!" Torvus swore, as the bolt missed the target, falling just three handbreadths to the left. The bolt disappeared into the grass, which had not been cut for a while. It was not going to be easy to find that one. The Void was shattered and he felt frustrated and not a little angry. That was eight misses out of ten shots!

Setting his bow down, Torvus stomped off to where he thought the bolt had fallen. He knew from experience that if he waited, he would never find it. As he searched the ground, Torvus wondered why he had missed again. Was his form that bad? No, he consoled himself. It must have been the wind. It was ticky today, that was all.

He searched for a while, then gave up, and marched the long way back to his bow. He would probably find it whenever it was too rusty to use. On his way back he felt a twinge of nostalgia and bitterness. His father had first taught him the bow. His father, who could shoot at three hundred paces with a horsebow, a hundred pound draw at least, on horseback, and empty his quiver in only a couple of minutes! Torvus would never be as good as his father, especially since the accident ruinednthe grip of his right hand, but that didnt stop him from trying.

Torvus loaded another bolt, winding the crannequin device he had made for this heavy crossbow. It could pierce throug armor at close range, but hitting anyone at past a hundred paces was proving difficult. He sighed, let himself sink slowly back into the void, and tried again.

He was just about to make the shot, with an instinctive feeling that this time he would hit the mark, when he heard someone approach.

"What now?" He muttered, and he put the bow down. This had better be important!

(Anyone want to join? No idea where this thread might go)

One of the bouncers managed to clip him upside tye head, so Torvus's ability to hold his own in the brawl quickly vanished, as did amy ability for the alcohol to deaden any of the pain from his bruises and breaks.

Torvus went down in the heap of confusion, having difficulty rising. He missed most of the particulars of the last part of the fight, and his vision was blurred. His head hurt a Lot.

Funny, he thought, i hadn't had That much to drink!

A man helped him up by the shirt. How kind of him!

"Why thangkyoo-oof!" He started to say, but was rudely interrupted by a fist to the ribs, belonging to the same person who helped him up.

"Now wait a minute, why did you d'Oof!" The second punch was much harder and knocked the wind out of him. Torvus's knees buckled and he stumbled forward, his head hitting Grey's forehead and they both went down to the floor from the impact. He hugged himself on the ground, trying to breath. He blacked out for a minute and came to the sound of laughter.

Where's the joke? He wondered, and saw the man he'd been fighting drinking a bottle of whiskey, laughing in between forceful swallows. Come to think of it, he thought as he stumbled to his feet, this whole situation was rather absurd! Where was something to drink? The bouncers were knocked out; the tavern was all but deserted. No doubt the tavernkeep had run for reinforcements, but this did not worry Torvus at all.

He found a bottle of something one of the fleeing guests had left, and claimed it as his own. He choked on the first draught, and then could not help but start laughing too!

I can help w knife training though, and an attempt at explaining the spring :) let me know if you want to do a training thread w Visar

Torvis is an alcoholic intellectual with no moral center. He might be interested in thievery or erm, counter theory officially

They both result in the oneness, flame and void is just the method mentioned in the books to reach ko'di or oneness.

Flame and void by feedong your emotions/thoughts into a void and findong concentration through that; no thought no feel just be. I see this as a way to control emotions to get rid of possible distractions.

The spring by embracing everything you're feeling and thinking, and rather than suppressing it, making it fuel your fight. So you foght wirh your passion. It doesn't mean you let your emotions rule you; rather it's more about commanding your emotions and making the best of what you already feel and perceive. You are open to your fear, anger, joy, love, determination, what have you, so there os vulnerability. But you're also not trying to shut part of yourself down or store it away, so you are one with yourself in an organic way.

Visar chose the latter. My guardsman Torvus chose Flame. I think while calm and focus in a fight are great, supressing what i fee, which is a part of who i am, doesn't make me fight with everything i've got. It's not just about focus and technique. I don't personally achieve oneness by shutting parts of me down; least that's how i see it, i'm sure it's more complex than that. I think ot depends on the person and what works for them.

Could be fun if your trainee tried to learn the spring and didn't like it :p though that would be a lot of effort lol.

And if you're looking for looong knives (short single edged swords) look for langes messer on that site. Cool weapon.

"That's not a knoife (shing!) THAT's a knoife" :p

Look into medieval and renaissance dagger fighting, has some of the best stuff i know, much of it still useful for the street today.

Some of The sources, if you don't mind wading through old treatises :) some are not fully translated or not uploaded as this is a work in progress to catalogue all that stuff, mich of it relatively obscure. Feel free to look at the swod stuff too ;)

http://www.wiktenauer.com/wiki/Category:Dagger

Cool :) knife fighting is intense, and it incorporates a ton of unarmed into it. Mostly weapon-arm grapples and locks, etc.

Visar's good w knives/daggers, that's his secondary. but he is Spring ;)

Visar Falmaien relaxed visibly when it was apparent that he was not in dire trouble. Or so he thought. This new Master at Arms seemed perfectly able to draw out his uncomfortableness till the last moment.

He then listend to her talk about the Yard's morale. She was right, since he had come back the place had not seen as much activity. Most of the guardsmen and women were on active duty, either abroad on missions for the Tower or enrolled in the never ending task of keeping the peace in the city. Compared to most other places, Tar Valon was relatively free of civil strife, but what the peaceful merchant did not know was how back-breakingly hard it was to make that happen. These days everything was strained. The Guard had many new recruits but most of them lacked sufficient training, costing the Tower more than they made up for in manpower.

Now with a reduced staff, and in the middle of reorganizing, the ttaining grounds were as disorganized as Visar felt his brain was on a bad day. Morale did need a boost.

He raised an eyebrow at her proposal for a public match. He suspected this was a trap somehow, but there was no way to back down from such a worthy request, and that from a superior. She spoke wisdom; it wasn't as if he had been publically insubordinate to her woth the key issue. It would make more sense to try to bind the yards closer with any gesture that they could. He swallowed hs sense of unease as best he could and put on a brave smile.

"I would be glad to face you in the ring, Master Kilrin. What time would you want to do this? And on what conditions? A public event for the whole Yard to watch? Till first hit, or a number of exchanges?"

She would undoubtedly fill him in on what she intended. Why could he not relax around this woman? He wondered of he ever would. He had not see her fight but knew her to be a blademaster of considerable skill, probably better than he was, though they would see soon enough. He was not going to try to lose for the fact of her being his superior, that was for certain.

(Ooc: my apologies for the loong wait!)

Visar fenced mostly with his feet, dodging attacks that he could not easily block, and deterring other attacks with his staf's reach and speed before they could hit him. He was doing decently well against three, and he felt his grin sttengthen as his enjoyment of the foght grew.

They were starting to figure him out, as well as trying different ways to defeat hom as a team. The one-two combination that Coraman and Rekinu pulled off was brilliant, and Visar counted himself lucky to escape that. And if Grey had struck just a moment or two sooner he might have had him.

Exhilarated by the chalenge of the fight, Visar called a reset to make sure Grey was alright. Then it was time for more! He wondered if he had actaully strictly defended in the last exhange. Probably not strictly speaking.

"Come now, you three almost had me! I will chase you down if you don't keep trying!" He yelled, and resumed his baiting guard. No one rushed forward foolhardy this time. They were learning.

Rekinu and Coramon came at him together, and Grey circled to try to get him from behind. Visar whirled, struck out with his staff in a couple of long thrusts to ward Grey away, then closed to the real threat.

Visar attacked first, feining, thrusting, trying to find an opening. But they were ready for him and managed to turn his point away, and inexorably closed in, forcing Visar to back up. He noticed that Rekinu was attacking as determined as ever, and the guardswoman was fighting with a passion Visar was glad to see, even if it meant she wanted to hit him very badly. What could he have done? He wondered, and grinned like an idiot.

They continued to press him and although he managed a glancing blow or two they kept coming. The staff was the weapon, and if it didn't hit with enough force, it wouldn't stop the fight.

The sword however, did not need such force to wound and maim, and was far more lethal for less force. Now where was that third attacker... Visar whirled but didn't see Grey behind him. Surprised, he whirled back, barely deflecting the two more experienced foghters. He saw an opening as Coraman just overextended in an effort to reach him, but before he could make his blow, he heard and felt a great,

Thwap!

On the back of his legs. Visar stumbled, seeing Grey crouched low with blade extended on his legs. That would have taken off his legs had these been sharp! The stun that the trainee had pulled that off prevented Visar from quickly countering to Grey's exposed head, and that was all the time needed for Rekinu to knock the staff out of one hand with a hit to Visar's wrist, and Coraman mercilessly came in for a chest strike that knocked the wind from him.

Holding up his free hand to signal stop as Visar recovered his breath (and what remained of his dignity) he smiled at the three of them.

"See? Of course it can be done." He laughed, slightly embarrased but not surprised. Few could stand against three, and those that did without a scratch were very, very lucky.

"Would you like to continue, or shall i show some basics of the weapon for you all to practice? I'm fine for either, i think." In truth, that bruise to his leg would make him limp a little, and he still felt not quite himself from the blow to the ribs, but surely they would buy his bluff?

-Visar Falmaien, ready for more!

Welcome!

I have a Tairen blademaster and a Saldaean archer/guardsman, at your service.

Been a quiet month of may too. I've had work and life defeat me and i'm on the mend to getting some things happening. But that leaves me withnot a lot of mental energy to write. So i'm sorry for holding anybody up for like a nonth or two x_x

And i've been mia because work, home life/work, and other hobbies has eaten my creative energies for writing.will try to catch up this week, hope i haven't kept anyone waiting too long

"We," Kathleen stressed coldly, "did nothing. The Lord Hargrave was lost. His heir,and thus his house, lives. The White Tower thanks you for your assistance here today, Visar Falmaien." She pulled out her coin purse and pressed some coin to the other man's hand.

Visar blinked at the coins in his hand, looked back up at Kathleen. He thought again why he had left the mission in the first place, and he looked away, not wanting the cold Aes Sedai to have the satisfaction of hurting him worse than the blades of the mercenaries had. And somehow him coming to help still put him at their level? A mere sellsword to be paid by cold metal and a more frigid 'thank you' with no sincerity. He barely noticed dropping the coins soon after, and no one else seemed to care right then.

At least for his sake he did not have the strength to say or do anything, or he'd likely join the bodies on the floor from her Power or Nev's sword. He leaned against the wall while others discussed what to do. They were furious at the attack, both the Hargrave staff and the Aes Sedai, though the latter were better at disguising their emotions. Little good it did for them. Visar was glad to be ignored for once.

At least his respite, and his automatic binding of his wounds with clean cloth, gave Visar some time to think as well as observe the younger Hargrave take command. Given that his father had been murdered in front of him, the young man showed remarkable bravery and potential for leadership. He stared at the coins he had scattered to the floor, mainly because he didn't have the grip to hold onto them. The gold would have been enough for buying a good horse, maybe even a suit of maille. But as Visar stared at it, he realized that that way of life wasn't worth it. Why take lives and receive gold, just to feel so empty inside you lived extremes just to remember feeling? Yes, duty could be heavy as a mountain sometimes, as the Borderlanders loved to drone, but if you served a cause you believed in, you didn't feel oppressed by the weight of your actions.

He checked his rough bindings. They'd serve to stop the bleeding for now, but he would need either Healing or a lot of stiches to be good as new. He wasn't going to ask right then, however. There was still work to be done. He felt a second wind and wanted to help with clearing the bodies away. Maybe then he'd find his weapons.

"Kathleen Sedai, there is something you must know," Visar said to her before she rushed off to either advise the Lordling or interrogate the captives. "These murderers were not ordinary mercenaries or bandits. They were highly trained and well paid. They came from the same way we did. Lady Arman's manor. I..had a change of heart, and followed them in hopes of stopping them from bringing harm. I failed to stop them from reaching the manor and killing one of their targets, but I am glad that you were not hurt, if that's worth anything..." Visar listened to her reply and said nothing as she stormed off to deal with more important battles. He felt shamed, but at least he had spoken something of use. She didn't need to trust his word alone to reach the same conclusion of who the aggressor was.

Visar walked the hall he had come from. Servants were already at work cleaning the floors. He was amazed at their apparent nonchalance; these men and women must be numb to death and things like this. Was he weak for still feelong it? Or did something break inside of you if you couldn't feel pain anymore? He didn't know. He found his sword and retrieved it, and while he was not feeling good enough to carry, he got down on his knees to scrub the floor some.

He ached all over and his emotions were a twisted, frustrated knot, but scrubbing helped some. He finished, and asked if he could sleep somewhere. A servant directed him to a small room with a cot that was near where they were guesting the Aes Sedai. He was asleep as soon as he fell on the bed.

He woke in pain that night, his wounds and fears swirling in nightmarish intensity before dulling again. He got up and wandered the halls. Most of the staff were asleep, but guards patrolled the halls, some of which Visar had to argue with as to whether he was allowed to be there. They dragged him to the Aes Sedai rooms. Nev stood watch as usual, grunted at Visar's arrival but said nothing. The guards left hom there and went back to their business.

Having nothing better to do, Visar leaned against the wall, tired but unable to sleep. A weary Kathleen Sedai came out of the room some time later, probably alerted by Nev. She stood a ways away and looked at him silenlty for a while, as if deciding what to do with him. Visar found himself talking foolishly just to try to break the tension.

"Can't sleep either?" He asked her. That didn't merit a response. I'll take that as a yes, but none of yours, he thought. He continued talking, partly to himself.

"Yes, I'm still here, Aes Sedai. I didn't come back for payment, or for your thanks. Nor did i come back to grovel and apologize, though i know i did wrong and regret it deeply. I came back for two reasons. One, it was the right thing to do, and my heart led me back here. And two, i've come to realize that the Wheel and the White Tower is not done with me yet, nor is it likely to be. Somehow my heart's at peace for that. It hadn't been for a long time. Tell me, in all the years you've lived as Aes Sedai, did you ever even doubt yourself to the point of self-destruction? How do you do that, and not betray how you feel? I could never hide how i felt very well. I tried to be like you, Aes Sedai, in control of my every thought, feeling, and action, but failed and it made me miserable. I tried to hold myself to perfection; now i realize that that was my mistake. I'd scream at myself, Control my emotions, why can't i do that? But perhaps that doesn't have to matter. Perhaps my openness can be as much a strength as controlling oneself. I abandoned your mission and betrayed your trust. I know there's no recovering from that. Yet I have not forgotten my vows to the White Tower. I will continue to serve you on this mission, and if you cannot trust me, I understand. I will accept your decision, and whatever consequences there are for my actions."

-Visar Falmaien

I think I might have Visar admire the ladies fight first for a while ;)  Then he'll join in to make things more fair.

I love the vigil option, really plays to the whole knighthood thing, and being a Tower Guard is a sworn duty to be taken almost as seriously as knightly vows I think. Kinda like the Night's Watch in Game of Thrones, but less celibate and depressing. And of course, the (unofficial of course but rarely enforced against) option of partying hard afterwards is usually fun :) 

I honestly don't have any more ideas for it, but I'm happy that others agree that that ceremony is a relic from another time; time to move forward.

(ooc: this takes place after Aekold's intro thread)

Having acquainted Aekold with the yards and scheduling some regular lessons for him with a Tower Guardswoman, Visar returned to the Master of Arms office the next day, her office door key in his hands, and not a little anxiety in his heart.  She said they would need to talk, and he had waited a night to do so.  She would not like that, but he did not only owe allegiance to her.

Did he owe allegiance to her?  She wasn't his Aes Sedai, and he barely knew Master Kilrin anyway.  He didn't trust her, and he doubted she trusted him after their first impression of each other.  That cocked eyebrow, that laughing amused smile, made Visar irritated just looking at.  And her voice...he didn't like it, but couldn't explain why.

Why was he doing this again?  Oh yes, because there were more important things than letting the beginnings of a grudge take hold, and it was not good to have rivalries among Warder leadership; that is, if he could be considered such.  He had never held an official position, but he was one of the better swordsmen in the yards, and he had taught many trainees and Tower Guardsmen skills they needed to know.  He knew he couldn't do it alone, and he certainly couldn't keep track of it all, anyway.

He reached the office.  Took a deep breath.  Knocked.  He felt almost as nervous as a new trainee.  This was ridiculous.  But he had to get it over with.  After being bidden to enter, Visar came in, and shut the door quietly behind him.  

He glanced quickly around.  The new Master of Arms did not waste time.  The room was still sparsely decorated, but a new set of armor set on a stand by the door, and he could see that all dust and cobwebs had been cleaned up.  He saw that her desk was immaculately organized.  She was prepared for him, it seemed.  

She stood by the window, her back turned to him.  She turned around, making her own appraisal.  Visar did not meet her directly in the eyes.  He did not want her judgement.  Instead, he walked slowly up to the desk, and placed the key on it.

"This is yours, Master Kilrin." he started.  They both looked at the key, then she looked at him and he met her eyes.  "Was there something you wanted to talk about, Master Kilrin?" Visar asked as bravely as he could, though he was afraid his posture and innards would betray his nervousness at any moment, and the stutter, that horrible stutter when he was nervous, would come back.

Bloody Light, I've been less afraid facing down five trained assassins than just talking to this flaming woman!  What is wrong with me?

-Visar Falmaien

Visar began cautiously.  It had been some time since he had fought Kynwric; the last time he didn't remember ever landing a blow!  He circled with Rekinu, they teamed well, but Visar did not have time to tell him how deceptive a fighter Kynwric could be.  Rekinu tried to attack first, and before Visar could react to support him or strike at Kyn while he was engaged, Reki was slammed back by Kynwric's shield.

To prevent Kynwric from following up with his sword, Visar himself charged in, trying to strike at Kynwric's sword arm and the areas not as quickly protected by his shield, looking for any opening.  He struck multiple times with the flat of his blade, Wind and Rain coupled with the Board Rushing Down the Mountain, his blade a blur barely followable.  He was quick, but not quick enough, as Kynwric was able to dodge or parry every blow until Visar's impetus was spent.  He tried to retreat, winded from his exertion, but Kynwric was on him before he could shout in alarm.

Visar closed, trying to close safely to grapple.  Only, you did not safely grapple with someone who knew how to use a shield.  He swerved around, trying to get Kynwric's back, but before he could, the man slammed his shoulder into Visar's, driving him off balance.  Before Kynwric could follow up with a lethal strike, though, Rekinu was back in the fight, forcing Kynwric's attention for just a moment to drive Rekinu back.  Visar decided it was wiser to disengage for now, and he moved back over to Rekinu.

Visar looked at Rekinu and they locked eyes.  That didn't work, let's try something else, he said without words.  They stayed closer together this time, as it was too easy for Kynwric to out time them if they struck from different sides.  They would attack in tandem, but cautiously, neither charging in unless there was gain to be had in tangling Kynwric up successfully for the other to strike.

Visar led, striking at Kynwric's sword lightly, then retreating, playing a longer game.  He struck again, Kynwric letting him, as he knew it was just a feint out of range.  The third time Visar struck true, forcing Kynwric to parry with his sword.  Carefully but persistantly, Visar remained on Kynwric's sword with his own, twisting narrowly for an opening, preventing him from safely countering without risking Visar's point or blade hitting him. He had a two-handed grip against Kynwric's one, so he had slightly better leverage. Meanwhile, that left Rekinu the option of trying to deal with the shield, which given time would be put into play to defeat Visar's Grapevine Twines.  And with any luck, if they tangled him up enough Kynwric would eventually make a mistake and leave an opening.

With any luck...but Kynwric rarely operated on luck.  And Visar could see that both Rekinu and himself were tiring quickly, leaving plenty of mistakes on their side for Kynwric to exploit.

-Visar, struggling to figure out a way...

I'll figure out how to wiggle Visar in there somewhere ;)

Normally Visar would have been extremely disoriented from the unfamiliar twists and turns of a manor he had never been in.  Normally, he wouldn't have stood half a chance against ten men in the open.  But a few things were working in his favor.  The assassins were only somewhat familiar with the manor themselves, though Visar suspected they had insiders guiding them, else they wouldn't have been able to gain entry so easily.  But more importantly, they weren't expecting a desperate warder at their back, and their target of focus was elsewhere.

Visar rounded a corner, knowing from hearing that another armed mercenary waited. The dark-cloaked man turned in alarm, started to raise his crossbow, then flung it at Visar as he went for his sword. Visar had no time to dodge, no time to gauge what skill his opponent was.  He turned his shoulder into the projectile as it crashed against him, kept moving, his sword close to his hip.  He thrust with his sword, impaling the assassin before he completed drawing his sword, and then tackled him to the ground with his next two steps.  In his death throes the assassin grabbed at Visar's cloak, and they went to the ground in a tumble.  Visar quickly rolled to the top, struck the assassin in the throat, which loosened his grip and knocked him unconscious.

Stumbling back to his feet, Visar drew his dagger and continued.  He didn't have time to retrieve his sword, though he knew he had struck a mortal blow.  The assassin writhed in a growing pool of his own blood, the latest in a string of bodies along the corridor, more servants than assassins.  He was quickly forgotten as Visar rushed to where the fighting sounded thickest.  He was very close, he knew, hearing the sharp clack of bolts hitting stones; hearing shouts and the thinnest screech of steel on steel.  They were still fighting, that was good!  If there was any good to be salvaged from this debacle...

Visar slowed and resumed on silent feet, sensing three men just around the corner. He would have to stalk now, even with his adrenaline wearing off. He only had his dagger; he couldn't possibly expect to take them all on.  But if he was to give his friends a chance of escaping, it was his duty to try.

He removed his cloak; it would make too much noise.  He sidled along the wall, edging to the corner, his dagger blade close.  He lowered his body, readying himself for a spring.  He strained his ears, listening.  There was the slightest strain of a cord stretching... one of them was reloading a bolt!

Visar lunged around the corner and hooked his arm around the neck of the kneeling crossbowman, stabbing him in the back repeatedly.  Using the dying body as a shield, Visar charged the remaining two men, who whirled around and loosed their bolts into their comrade instead of Visar.  They drew their daggers, knowing as Visar did that the narrow corridor was better for knife-work.  Visar hurled the corpse onto one of them so that they couldn't rush him at the same time.  As that mercenary was struggling with getting the body out of the way, he swiftly closed with the other one.  No time for the dueling dance so common in places like Ebou Dar and Tear.  He stabbed right for the assassin's neck, and was surprised that the man blocked it, hooking his dagger in a way that bit hard into Visar's wrist.  His dagger pinched in a classic defense move, Visar knew in his muscles that it would be only a moment before he would be countered and stabbed himself.

He lashed out with a foot at the man's knee, buying time as he stumbled back to regain his balance.  Their blades remained locked.  Visar jabbed with his free fist, which disentangled his weapon arm.  Somehow, he still held his blade despite blood running from his wrist.  He switched the blade to his left hand, thrust high at his opponent's face.  The man tried to block it with both hands; his mistake!  Visar switched the feint from high to low, burying his dagger into the assassin's body, and kicking him back for good measure.  

He turned, and had little time to react as he saw a reverse gripped thrust plunge for his neck.  Lashing out with the nearest hand, Visar deflected the blow with his right forearm, just enough so that it did not hit its intended target.  Even so, the assassin's blade hooked painfully over his already bleeding arm, the point leveraging towards his heart.  He only needed to penetrate two inches to kill...

Visar used his left hand again, and went into an improvised The Grapevine Twines, shooting his arm like a snake to twirl around the dagger arm.  He shifted his body weight to the side, clearing some space, and then he moved diagonally to wrench the assassin's elbow. The man opened his mouth in a silent scream and went to his knees, stubbornly clutching to his weapon.  Visar kneed him in the chin, and with that distraction, he was able to deftly snatch the blade, as he had practiced so many times in the Yards.

Switching hands, Visar knocked the man out with the pommel of the knife to the temple, and ran on to round another corner, the one the assassins had been hiding behind to take shots.  This must be the alcove to the great hall, Visar reasoned, though he didn't have time to think of what to do next as he rounded the corner.

Five men were fighting in the hallway, one of them not darkly garbed.  It was Nev! Visar realized quickly.  He was sorely pressed, trying to keep them out of the room, where his Aes Sedai and the others must still be.  Visar ran to the scene, but slowed and hesitated as he realized he had no sword, only the knife he had taken from the assassin. His right arm was next to useless, growing numb from loss of blood.  He watched the fight with fascinated horror; Nev was valiantly fighting off four men, but it was only a matter of time before he'd be overwhelmed.  He needed... a distraction!

Visar readied himself for one last suicidal charge.  Visar breathed in, and let loose a primal scream as he ran, letting out his pain and fury from everything that had ever hurt him.  He imagined himself directing it, much like Aes Sedai used the One Power, onto his targets. Nev, trained for battle, did not even flinch, but the assassins did, giving him a chance to wound two of them and push them back just enough.  Another fighter rushed into the corridor from the Hall, then another, and the tide turned in a blink of an eye.  

By the time Visar reached the scene of the fighting it was all but over.  Of the four swordsmen, only two remained, alive, guarded by one of the men in Hargrave livery. The two remaining Tower Guardsmen, as well as the other Hargrave guards that came rushing up from where Visar had come from, rushed off to deal with the remaining assassin, who must have realized by now that his mission failed.  

Nev turned to Visar, a cautious, measured frown on his face, his sword resting deceptively low, but ready to use.  Visar dropped the knife he was holding; he had no desire to fight Nev again.  Despite his providing a distraction, Nev obviously didn't trust Visar.  He didn't know what to say to the other Warder.

The Aes Sedai, and a young man in nobleman's clothes, followed the rest out of the room.  Kathleen Sedai did not seem at all surprised to see him there, but there was an expression of shock on Gera Sedai's face that might or might not be due to Visar's appearance.

"I c-cleared a w-way out for escape," Visar stuttered weakly to Kathleen gesturing behind him at the dead and wounded assassins that added to the trail of bodies they had made on the way in. Some would still be alive for questioning, though Visar already knew where they had come from.  He attempted to explain further though his brain was foggy, "Nine (assassins) down, one left?  Did we save Lord... ?" he asked, himself confused to the outcome.  How many had he defeated? Four? Five?  And where did his sword go?  Feeling dizzy and weak from exhaustion and loss of blood, Visar stopped trying to talk and leaned against the stone wall to rest while people in better shape figured that sort of thing out.

-Visar Falmaien, he's back

Ok, I think I am keeping track of everything so far :)  Will double check that.  I just started a new job (so yay job search did not drag on too much), so that's been a little stressful logistically but once I get a good routine on that I should be back up and running.  I will be available mainly Sundays to post something for sure.

Yay a huggle! I needed some :)

(grins and goes and tickles Rashi also) Green Warder team HAHA! 

I've got two warder yard characters,  my main Visar, who's a blademaster and warder to the wonderful Rasheta Sedai, may she be always tickled ;)

and I got a Tower Guard who doesn't trust anyone but himself, but is himself not half so trustworthy as those he wouldn't trust :P

And I'm getting used to a new job so I haven't been on a ton the last week.  Hopefully will get more of a routine soon and I've finally got a couple days off as  weekend.

Welcome back Mat!

hope your bio gets CC'd soon and you have another writing itch soon :)

No worries if not, sometimes the bio process takes too long.

-Visar