I apologise for not explaining this sooner - things were a little hectic what with getting ready for Euromeet and so on.

The reason that what used to be the Division site is down for maintenance is because we are going through it to remove references to Dragonmount and stuff.  Once this is done, the site will be back up, and all the important information which was there before will still be there. 

Once I get back to England and can focus without my head feeling like there's a Frenchman living in it, I'll work out the best way of getting the information over to Steve, so that he or the new DL or whoever can arrange to have it hosted here on DM, or somewhere else safe.

The White Tower site will still be there, but it'll be just a tiny bit different to what you're used to - you'll have to keep an eye on the forums there to find out just how different it'll be though.

Thanks everyone for your support over the past however long - it's meant a lot to me.

Handle: Shalon Casbin

Name:Shalon Casbin

Age: 17

Physical written description:

Shalon is what most men would call pretty, never beautiful with her girlish face and boy like slim body. Her eyes are an amber and cherry brown color. She stands almost 5 and a half feet tall, tall enough to look most men in the eye. She is lean of build, with light muscle covering her body. Her skin is a rich chocolate color, accented by her dirty blond hair. She usually wears her hair in a multitude of small braids, or plated on top of her head.

Origin: Ebou Dar

Personality Strengths:

-Logical

-coldly calculating

-very empathetic (can tell when people are lying)

Personality Weaknesses:

-Stubborn

-lack of feeling for others

-high self-image

***HISTORY***

Shalon was raised as a street child of the Rahad in Ebou Dar. Shalon was born to, Tylese ,a woman who owned a small tailoring shop in the filthy streets of the Rahad. Shalon was brought up poorly, with only enough money to see her mother and herself through the day, and then still have a roof over there heads and a shop below there feet at night.

Shalon dealt with people everyday of her life, either sailing clothes or buying wares, she was constantly a member of the public, in Ebou Dar reading people came with your first words, and with her it was more so. They were a touchy people, Ebou Dari, and one false word could see you beaten if not killed. It was this need to survive, perhaps, that a yearning for a deeper understanding of things, why people did as they did, began to consume her thoughts.

Shalon found 3 books left in her mother's rooms once, after a man had come over for some time then left with her mother in toe. She did not mean to steal the books, but once she started reading them she was entrapped, they were books by philosophers and theologists, people who knew what they spoke of. She soaked it all in. For a seventeen year old she was remarkably bright, being forced to grow up quickly to survive left no other option but to be smart. Smart and Hard.

She also had enough fancies in her head, being young and foolish, of becoming Aes Sedai, a great Philosopher herself. The thought was enough to fill her with joy and weep at the thought of accomplishing it. The White Ajah, she knew enough of Aes Sedai to know that, from what she had read of course. She had never met an Aes Sedai, what would that be like?

She sought out the man from whom she had "borrowed' the books, he worked in the Royal Library and apparently was very upset she had the books. Two hours of apologizing with another three hours of begging,got her into the Royal Library without having a quarrel with the large man . She wore the finest dress she had, spun silk in dark green drawn up with petticoats of red black and white coming from beneath. She had her hair fixed, and walked in as if she belonged there.

The day she walked into the Library was the start of a new life. She found herself, head bent, to peer at the title of a book. After an hour of searching where she wished to be she had finely found the books that interested her, she was amazed that a Library could be so big. She was looking so intently at the books that she did not hear the other woman walk up behind her. A mistake she immediately regretted.

"Who might you be child?" The voice brought her spinning around so quickly she very nearly fell over in haste. Her eyes fell on a woman shorter than Shalon, as most people were, but with a warm motherly face, a farm wives face. Her baring marked her as anything but a farm wife, she stood prouder than any woman Shalon had ever seen, and her eyes seemed to hold an unmatched intelligence. An ageless face suddenly screamed at her AES SEDAI! Shalon's eyes bulged as she bent to the floor with a half yelped, "Honor to you Aes Sedai, I did not intend to block your path, excuse me please, the Light knows I meant no disrespect." the last came out in near terror. What if she called the Guard? Would she even need the Guard? The woman seamed to know at a glance that Shalon did not belong here. What would her Mother do if she learned an Aes Sedai had found her daughter searching the Royal Library where she had no business being?

The Aes Sedai simply sighed, a soft sound, and muttered something about Ebou Dari and touchy that sounded far to close to stupidity in Shalon's mind. Had she not been scared to her silk slippers she might have taken the moment to frown at the other woman, well had the woman not been Aes Sedai.

"Stand up girl, don't be silly. I walked to you. This is a not much traveled area, you must be very bright to be able to read these pages. Tell me how old might you be?" Suddenly those warm eyes became predator sharp, a cat watching a fat mouse.

"My next naming day will be my eight-teenth." Her voice was carefully neutral. She did not like to speak of her age. She hated it. She did not think of age in terms of herself, she simply knew what she knew and thought how she liked, no matter how many told her she should be an old woman, it was simply her. However, other people saw only her age and immediately shut her out. That was enough to make her want to throttle someone.

The Aes Sedai's smile might have been enough to tell Shalon to run, but how could she run from an Aes Sedai? The woman could lift her with the Power and toss her across the city. "Tell me, is your Mother a Lady of the Court, or perhaps a visiting diplomat? I do not recall seeing you in the Palace." The Sister seemed only half paying attention, playing with the brown fringe on her shawl while speaking, but Shalon was sure it was a practiced face. Her eyes never left Shalon's face. The eyes were always the easiest tell to pick out.

"My....my Mother Aes Sedai? She is no Lady." Shalon paused, swallowing hard. She could not lie to this woman, in her eyes it was the same as lying once sworn under the Light to tell the truth. To her Aes Sedai were the Light made flesh. "My Mother is Tylese, a fine seamstress of this fair city." no point in telling the Aes Sedai that her mother's shop was in the Rahad, that would only give her reason to kick Shalon farther than the palace gates.

"You will remain at the Palace tonight as my guest. I will have a coach sent to fetch your Mother, I have somethings I should think she would like to hear." the Aes Sedai's face never altered, but suddenly there was a knowing.Shalon's face paled. How cold she have been so stupid? The Aes Sedai would likely have her and her mother beaten. Only now, what could she do to stop it? "What is your name child?"

"Yes Aes Sedai, my name is Shalon Casbin. I am but an apprentice seamstress. Why would you wish me to stay with you Aes Sedai?" Shalon looked up from her downcast head to see the Aes Sedai suddenly smiling openly.

"Do you know that you can channel girl? Well, the ability is in you at any rate. You will channel one day, with or without going to the Tower. Luckily I found you when I did, another year at most and the ability would have made itself known. Once tat happen the fatality rate of the first channeling is four of five. You are a very lucky girl indeed."

------

The following days were a whirl still blurred in her mind by the wave of emotions that hit her at every turn. When her mother was summoned to the palace, Shalon was there to greet her as she stepped from the coach. Tylese had never been in the palace a day of her life, and when her eyes fell on her daughter anger flared in such a way that Shalon took two quick steps back. The Aes Sedai, Alaria, quickly intervened and Shalon watched her mother o from angry to all smiles in the span of a heartbeat.

Her daughter could channel. Her daughter would become Aes Sedai. The honor was more than she could handle. Tylese follows the Aes Sedai into the palace with her daughter in heel, they made there way to the Aes Sedai's room and shut themselves away in her sulking room.

There Tylese and the Aes Sedai spoke at length about Shalon's future. She would travel with the Brown Sister to Tar Valon in one weeks time. Tylese would pay for nothing, the Aes Sedai would see to feeding Shalon, and there was no reason to buy new clothes, the Tower would have them all burned anyway.

The week flew by, with Shalon living in the palace with the Aes Sedai and her mother coming and going. She still had a shop to run and was all the busier without her apprentice.

Shalon found herself with two other Aes Sedai who had been staying in the city and Alaria Sedai all on warhorses, beautiful beasts with shining coats, and she herself rode a dun stallion the color of spun gold. She doubted had she saved her earnings all year she would have been able to purchase as fine a horse. They were on their way to Tar Valon in short order, with hasty and tear filled goodbyes to her mother. They rode as far as the dock before boarding a ship bound for Tar Valon.

A few weeks at sea saw an end to whatever queasy fillings she had associated with the rocking of a boat. Better than the lose of sea sickness were the every night lessons she received from Alaria Sedai. They did exercises that Alaria Sedai said all Novices started out with. The Bank guiding the River, The Flower Budding into the warmth of the Sun, but of all her attempts she successfully embraced saidar only twice in the last two days before they reached Tar Valon.

-------

After Alaria saw Shalon signed into the Novice books, she was gone. Shalon heard rumor in the Tower that Alaria had left the city again, apparently she stayed in the Tower about as often as Shalon had visited her Aunt in Caemlyn, which was to say, never.

Taea - I gather you've had some discussion regarding this bio with the WT's checker, Lavi. Sadly, Lavi's away for the weekend - could you possibly PM me and let me know what you'd discussed, and I'll happily do any WT-related CCing in Lavi's absence. :)

EDIT - Thanks for the PM Taea. Consider the bio WT CCed. :)

Sasra had taken her best gown from the large wooden chest that it had been packed in since she left Saldaea, and hung it up in her room with the windows open for three days, so it'd be aired in time for the ball. It had smelled musty when she first took it out, but a few days hanging in her room had soon seen to that, and each day she'd woven threads of air around it just to make sure. She had an excellent dressmaker in Tar Valon who normally provided her with beautiful gowns, but this one was special. The Queen of Saldaea had it made for her, for the first ball which was held after she had taken power, and Sasra had stayed on as her advisor.

Balls in the Saldaean court had been frequent, at least every other week, and at times more often than that, and as the Royal Advisor and ambassador for the White Tower, it had been her duty to attend all of them. She had only seen a few such occasions at the White Tower, and so had enjoyed the formal events in the royal court tremendously to start with. The novelty soon wore off, and the constant stream of various semi-important people that she had to be polite to would've driven her mad had it not been for her Special Room. She'd set herself up a room in the palace, in a quiet wing that was hardly ever used, with a padded practise dummy and a collection of wooden swords, and she'd vented any anger and frustration on the dummy, which had to be repaired regularly. It helped her to remain calm, particularly after she'd spent a long evening smiling politely at people she disliked.

And the food! The seemingly endless procession of plates of tiny items, prepared in the palace kitchens with incredible skill and attention to detail. Some of them had been so beautiful it had been a shame to eat them, and it often made her seethe with anger to watch other guests take them from the silver plates carried by the servants and eat them without even looking at them. Such a waste. She often made a point of visiting the kitchens to thank the porters, servants, and cooks.

On one such visit, the head cook had puffed his chest out at her praise, proclaiming that tonight's food had not been his finest work, and that he could do much better.

"Tell me,", she asked him, "could you prepare a simple meat and vegetable stew? With mutton, parsnips, carrots and onions? And could you serve it with a crusty heel of bread?"

"I could, Aes Sedai.", he replied cautiously, "But why under the Light would I want to?"

"Because I should like it.", she said simply, "I should like it very much."

The following week, one of the servants had sidled up to her as she tried to melt into the background at yet another formal gathering of local alleged dignitaries, telling her that there was a messenger waiting for her in one of the private rooms with an urgent communication. On following the servant girl to the room, she found a table laid with a single place, and a large bowl of mutton stew, next to a good sized piece of freshly-baked crusty bread. The bowl was simple, and the spoon which accompanied it was wooden. She laughed out loud with surprise and pleasure, and then saw the head cook standing in the corner, a broad smile on his round rosy face.

"Should you like that, Aes Sedai?" he said as she sat down at the table.

Sasra picked up the wooden spoon, turning it around in her hand a few times. It felt strange after using silver for so long, thicker in her hand, but somehow more solid, and along with the smell of the mutton stew, it took her right back to her childhood. She scooped out a good spoonful and held it up to her face, breathing in the scent of herbs and mutton and vegetable, and then tasted it, savouring the delicious flavours for a long while before swallowing.

"I do like it. You work miracles in that kitchen. Thank you so very much."

"It's my pleasure, Aes Sedai.", the cook said quietly, and slid almost unnoticed through the servants' door, leaving Sasra alone with the stew.

- - - - - - - - -

She'd been back at the White Tower for nearly a year now, and hadn't seen a ball or formal dance since, and although when she came back from Saldaea she'd said that if she never went to another one again it'd be too soon, when she'd heard about the one which was to be held tonight she suddenly felt as though she'd missed them. She was already wearing the dress the Queen of Saldaea had given her when Urien knocked and entered, dressed in black moleskin breeches, and a jacket of dark grey thick wool. He looked more like a prince than a warder.

The dress she wore was one of a few she had that wasn't divided for riding, but despite that, she didn't find it difficult to walk in. It was all silk, in what had to be close to a dozen shades of grey, heavily embroidered and sewn with pearls on the bodice. She took Urien's hand and practised a few dance steps, smiling as he held her hand lightly, working through the steps of the dance as smoothly as he worked through the forms when he practised with his sword. He really was an excellent dancer, and she recalled now the jealous glances that she drew from women at the Saldaen court balls when he would dance with none but her.

She felt the excitement building inside her as they walked the long curving hallways and galleries of the Tower together, heading for the Great Hall. It wasn't a grand affair of state, this ball - it was being held as the culmination of some training on proper behaviour which was given to Accepted. Sasra herself had been to such a ball once, years ago, when she wore the white dress with the banded hem, but she had not been to one here since she was raised to the shawl.

She and Urien entered the room mostly unnoticed, and while Urien was sent in search of some wine, she remained on the fringe of the room, out of the way. A novice paused in her circuit of the room carrying a large silver tray of pastries. She dropped a careful curtsey and offered the tray, and as Sasra lifted a couple of small pastry which seemed to be topped with some kind of cheese, the girl cast her eyes jealously around the room.

"Your day will come, child.", she smiled, as the girl realised she had been caught and curtsied again, blushing as she hurried away with the tray.

She regarded the two pastries she had lifted from the tray. They were nothing like the works of art which she had experienced at the Saldaean balls, but if she knew the Tower's kitchens half as well as she thought she did they would be no less delicious. She bit into one and the pastry practically melted in her mouth. It had been wrapped around a piece of smoked bacon, and the cheese which was baked onto the top was the perfect companion to it. Urien returned then, with two finely blown glasses containing a deep golden wine, most likely of Tairen origin.

"Thank you.", her words were slightly muffled by the pastry in her mouth as she held up the other one for his perusal, "Pastry?"

He smiled, and raised one eyebrow. He wasn't a fan of pastry, but she was. She always made a point of collecting two - one for her, and one for him, on the grounds that he'd always refuse it, and she could eat it. That had backfired on her a couple of times. She'd once had to eat two pieces of a hard bread smothered with a paste made from tiny black fish-eggs - possibly the most vile thing she'd ever had in her mouth.

Sasra looked around the room. Many of the Aes Sedai who were here were known to her, but there were one or two fresh faces that she couldn't place. As she studied them harder, she realised why she didn't recognise them - they weren't Aes Sedai at all, they wore their Great Serpent rings on the wrong fingers. Accepted then, wearing borrowed dresses. That hadn't been allowed in her day, but she remembered how she'd come to her first ball in her white dress with the banded hem, how she'd tied a piece of ribbon that Tayline had given her into her hair, and how she'd felt like the most beautiful woman in the world until she entered the room, and saw all the Aes Sedai in their lovely dresses, and then she'd felt like the ugliest frog in the world. She still had the ribbon though, in a box in her room, with a keeping weave on it so it would never fade. Like your beauty, she thought to herself, wherever you are now my dear Tayline, I know you're still beautiful.

Looking around again, she spotted a girl, standing alone, shy, nervous, obviously feeling out of place in her white Accepted's dress. She had no ribbon in her hair, nothing to drink, nobody to talk to, but most importantly, nobody to dance with. The band seemed to be about ready to launch into one of the less formal dances, and Sasra nudged Urien.

"Remember how you danced with me at that first ball?", she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the lone girl.

"How could I forget?" he replied, grinning, "My foot was bruised for days!"

She elbowed him playfully in the ribs.

"You most certainly did NOT!"

"I remember.", he said, quietly, nodding slowly, "You danced well."

"Would you dance with that Accepted?"

"Are you asking me to?"

"I am.", she said, simply, taking a sip of her wine. She was right - Tairen, and not poor quality either.

"Then I shall.", he said, "But not for the formal dances. I dance those with you."

He smiled and gave her his wine, and just as he turned to walk away, she put a hand on his arm.

"Make her feel beautiful.", she said quietly, "Make her feel like the only girl in the room. Let her remember her first dance at a ball the way I remember mine."

"You know me.", he said simply, and he turned again, walking over to the girl in the white dress.

Sasra watched him walk up to the girl and lean over to speak to her. She looked as if she nearly jumped out of her skin when he did so, but after a Urien's flashing smile, she took his hand and let him lead her to join the other dancers. As they went, he glanced back at her and winked.

Sasra Cooper

Aes Sedai of the Grey Ajah

Bonded to Urien Santra.

“The Greasy Pig?”, thought Sasra, with a minor start. That couldn’t be anything other than the Greased Pig – unless someone had opened another inn with so similar a name, but that was unlikely. If it was, then she could easily remember the taproom that the woman spoke of, and she could remember helping to clean the floors of the room at the back of the ground floor which had held the large copper baths as if it was yesterday. So long ago, and yet the memories were still so fresh.

She held onto that thought, and smiled at Dilora, encouraging her to talk more about her journeys. She was certainly well travelled, and had a wealth of tales, most of which seemed to be amusing. Sasra certainly didn’t have to force any laughter – beside being interesting and relaxed, the woman was genial comnpany. Sasra lifted her goblet to her lips, to find it empty. Without interrupting the flow of Dilora’s storytelling, she made what is a fairly universal gesture, which was replied to with a nod, and then leaned back in her chair and craned her neck around to the bar, raising one hand into the air.

The innkeeper saw her instantly, and cuffed a potboy around the ear before pointing urgently to their table. The boy, who couldn’t have been more than 14 came dashing over, and when he arrived, Sasra was already handing the small empty pitcher that had contained spiced wine to him.

“More of...”, he began to ask, but she was nodding before he had finished, “Yes, of course.”, he said hurredly, “Straight away, Aes Sedai. Thank you.”

The boy returned, this time with a larger pitcher, enough for two, and a spare goblet for Dilora. He placed both on the table with a nod of deference to Sasra and turned to leave. As he did, Sasra’s left hand whipped out like lightning and caught his arm in a firm grip, like a wary market trader stopping a careless thief. She pulled him back towards the table as his face paled, without taking her eyes off Dilora, her smile never wavering. The poor potboy clearly believed himself to be in some kind of unknown trouble, and opened his mouth to speak, but Sasra simply smiled at him, and with a sideways glance to make sure the innkeeper wasn’t looking, pulled his arm towards her, pressed a copper coin into his hand, and closed his fingers around it with her own.

He gaped for a second or two in obvious relief, and when he opened his mouth to speak once more, Sasra simply held a finger to her lips and the boy nodded in mute understanding. He gave another polite nod, and hurried away from their table, concealing the coin.

During this brief exchange, Dilora had stopped speaking, and was watching Sasra, so she returned her attention to the woman opposite her. The last thing she had mentioned was a collection of books in her wagon, and that had piqued Sasra’s interest. The White Tower held an impressive library, of course, but the books were mostly reference volumes and records. She liked to read stories. Stories were a window into the culture and social structure of the place where they originated from. You could tell a lot about a people from their stories. Of course, she knew a lot about culture across the known world, but she also believed that the day a woman stopped learning was the day she died. One of the brown sisters who had taught her before she was raised to the shawl had said “A woman who thinks she has nothing left to learn, has learned very little.”, and like so many things people said, she had carried those words with her ever since.

“Books, you say?”, Aes Sedai had a reputation for hiding any emotion, but Sasra had been allowing her smile to touch her eyes for most of the time she had been listening to Dilora. That smile continued now, genuine in its warmth.

“If you have any for sale, I’m always pleased to pay a reasonable price. You’ll find this hard to believe, but I’ve been singularly unable to replace a copy of The Travels of Jain Farstrider which... which I brought to the Tower with me.”

Dilora poured them each some of the spiced wine, which smelled warm and sweet and delicious, and Sasra spoke again.

“So you know The Greased Pig in Whitebridge? I’ve stayed there myself, on more than one occasion. Aes Sedai have always been quietly welcomed there. Tell me, is it still run by the Coopers, do you know?”

Sasra Cooper

Aes Sedai of the Grey Ajah

Bonded to Urien Santra.

Please see the following post.

http://www.dragonmount.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=11656

It's been brought to my attention that there are rumours abounding that I have either quit as DL of the WT, or am about to quit as DL of the WT.

I'd like to take this opportunity to tell everybody that this is not the case. I have no idea where these rumours have come from, and I don't really care where they've come wrong.

I have not quit as staff, and I currently have no intention of doing so.

So let's have no more of it, please?

You just get yourself better hon, and come back to us fit and well.. :-)

*hugs*

The sky had turned black, the dark clouds lit by frequent arcs of blue-white lightning that streaked back and forth.  The pungent scent of Great Lord’s influence which pervaded this area that those lightfools called The Blight was held at bay in this disgusting patch of innocence by one of the Nym.  The last of the Nym.  The Green Man, they called him, the last of his kind, a hangover from the Age of Legends.  The Nym’s magic may have been as old as the ground itself, but so was Saidin, and it coursed through his body, a raging torrent of pure molten power, every drop of blood in his veins turned to liquid fire.  They were locked together now, a fight to the death, but the Nym’s power seemed somehow too strong.  The Aes Sedai and the fool children she had brought with her lay unconscious, they posed no problem now, and Aginor was dealing with the farmboy, but this accursed Green Man was proving to be an unexpected hindrance. 

Rope-thick threads of Saidin fluked from his fingers into the Nym’s body –  a big man by any standards but now reduced to his knees, his face contorted with a combination of pain and anger as tendrils of smoke began to rise from his body.  The smell was a mixture of burning flesh, wood and leaves.  He had been fighting back, but the strength was fading at last  With a sudden roar The Green Man reached up, and gripped his hands, almost blocking the threads of Saidin.  He felt his blood begin to turn cold at the touch.  He felt the fibres of his being changing.  As the life drained from the Green Man, he felt something of the Nym’s influence creeping up through his arms.  Coolness began to spread through him, forcing down the waves of Saidin, driving it from his body, along with his own life.  It wasn’t supposed to work like this, this was not…  Supposed…  To… Happen.

The Green Man’s roar shook the leaves around them, it seemed to shake the very floor that they stood on.  He looked down and saw his arms turning green, and at the same time began to feel the life ebbing from him.

No!

He fought, desperately trying to clutch at Saidin, at his life, but it was no good.  The Green Man relaxed his grip and fell backwards onto the ground, a lifeless husk.  The damage had already been done though.  He staggered back now, his legs refusing to hold him up, and tumbled against a bush.  It wasn’t so much a pain that he felt, it was worse than a pain, indefinable in its nature.  It was a sensation of cleanliness, of purity, or innocence and growth.  It sickened him, weakened as he was, turning his stomach over and over as he rolled onto his front.  He could feel pressure in the back of his throat, making him want to vomit.  With his last strength he pushed himself up onto his arms – if he could vomit, then he’d be able to breathe again, and perhaps recover.  He opened his mouth and retched, feeling his stomach constrict, but nothing came out.  As he writhed and retched, flowers bloomed in his mouth, leaves sprouting from the opening, the heads sticking out in front of him.  Shocked, he fell back onto his side, powerless to do anything but watch as more flowers emerged from his nose, breaking through the skin on the backs of his hands, bursting out of the sleeves of his coat. 

And then he felt the same pressure behind his eyes.  Unable to make a sound he lay still, and felt one eyeball burst inside his head, and felt the leaves that issued forth brushing his cheek.  He could no longer even writhe with the agony, as his other eye burst into flower, and as the sweet stench of the blooms flooded his nostrils, the last of his life left his body.

* * * * * * * * * * *

He woke with a start, and took a deep breath.  Nothing stuffed his mouth, the taste of new life had gone.  Cautiously, he felt for Saidin, and found it there, waiting for him.  All a dream then.  A very very bad dream.  Like all the others, he could protect his dreams from any outside interference, prevent himself from being drawn into Tel’Aran’Rhiod, but he could do nothing against the work of his own subconscious.  Just a dream.

He opened his eyes and looked around.  If it was a dream, it was hanging on longer than it should’ve.  The room was wrong.  It was not the room he remembered.  Darker, for a start, and much much plainer.  It smelt of wood and tar, tinged with salt, and it felt as if the floor shifted under his feet as he swung out of the narrow hard bed and stood up.  Everything swayed, and he put out a hand to steady himself as he rubbed his eyes and turned to the jug and bowl which stood in a special depression on a washstand.  The washstand was hinged on a gimbal which allowed it to swing and pivot in any direction, and he nearly spilled the water when he leaned on the top of the stand to pour some from the jug into the bowl.  He hissed a curse under his breath.  This was all wrong. 

The floor shifted under his feet again, and he nearly fell.  Why did the floor keep shifting?  Wait a minute - he suddenly realised the sound of water outside, and shouts from above.  Everything fell into place.  He was on board some kind of a boat.  He looked up, seeing the small wooden-framed mirror for the first time.  And he saw the face of a woman.  The dream faded around him then.  The illusion that he was still who he was.  Brought back from death, along with Aginor, and both given new names.  Osan'gar and Aran'gar.  The irony wasn't lost on him, and he grimaced.  Had it been someone else, he would've laughed until it hurt.  But it wasn't someone else, it was him, he was the butt of the Great Lord's joke.

He was getting used to the floor shifting now, and strode out of the small room, up the ladder and onto the deck.  Looking around, there was no sign of land.  He remembered more now - they were at least a week from land, even with the Windfinder working day and night.  This wasn't good enough, this disguise, this subterfuge, it was no good.  Only a few members of the crew knew the truth, and it was too difficult to maintain the facade.

"I do not wish to be disturbed.", he said, almost surprised to hear the woman's voice that came from his mouth.  Some people nodded, and he wobbled back down the wooden ladder and barred the cabin door closed.

Saidin rushed through him.  Her.

A thin line of silver appeared in the air, thinner than a hair, brighter than the sun.  It lengthened, until it reached almost from the floor to the wooden ceiling of the cabin.  Once it had lengthened, it began to widen.  The silver thread became a narrow split in the air, a hole in reality.  It grew wider still, until a room was visible through the hole.  A room almost as dark as this one, rough cracked plaster walls, and a shuttered window.  Once the hole was a little wider than a person, he stepped through it into the room on the other side.  She stepped through.  The hole snapped shut, and left the cabin, that floating hovel, empty and quiet, save for the creaking of the boards, and the rushing of the water outside.

Aran'gar.

Chosen.

Consider yourself Stickied, Corki. :-)

Sasra listened as the fiddle player started, and the young woman joined in, once she had found the rhythm and caught her breath. One or two verses were slightly different to the version she remembered, but it didn’t matter. After a few verses she couldn’t stop her feet from tapping, and she closed her eyes and let her mind drift back over the years.

A little girl, wakened from a bad dream, creeping down the rough wooden stairs to find her parents, hiding behind the door to the common room, listening to the songs being sung by the patrons. Her mother appearing, and gathering the child in her arms chides her, but with a smile. She sings a soft lullaby as she carries the young girl back up the stairs and returns her to her bed, stroking her hair as she sings her back off to sleep.

The sound of clapping brought her back to the present, and she joined in enthusiastically, smiling as the young woman gulped down some of her ale and then approached her table.

“Greetings, Aes Sedai.  My name is Dilora Fashelle, and I hope I did not cause offence.”

So, the young woman at least had realised that Sasra was Aes Sedai, finally. She smiled warmly, and gestured to the empty seat opposite hers.

“I’m not offended Miss Fashelle. I take it Miss is correct, yes?”, she didn’t pause for the woman to answer, “I am glad to make your acquaintance, please, join me?”

The woman sat opposite her, and took another drink from her mug. She smiled, and looked as if she was trying to think of something to say.

“You are a long way from home, Dilora Fashelle. From your accent I’d say West Andor, probably Baerlon, or near to it, am I right?”, she continued, not noticing whether the woman nodded or not, but sure that she was right. “May I ask what brings you to Tar Valon?”

Sasra Cooper

Aes Sedai of the Grey Ajah

Bonded to Urien Santra

Sasra pulled her cloak a little tighter around her shoulders and continued to stroll casually along the cobbled street. Behind her, the White Tower loomed over Tar Valon, many of its windows showing the dim yellow lights of candles, or the clearer bluish light of the One Power. Down here in the city, many of the windows were already dark, save for the windows of inns, where flickering candlelight or oil lamps allowed small pools of dim dirty light to spill onto the edges of the street.

It was the inns that Sasra sought tonight. Inns were special to her. She’d spent the first 15 years of her life in the Greased Pig in Whitebridge, and even though the White Tower had been her home for over 100 years since, there was so much about an inn that reminded her of home. Whenever she was away from the Tower, and she went to eat or stay at one, the smell was always the first thing to hit her when she walked in. A heady mix of clean sawdust, ale, spiced wine, cooking, and candle-fat. That smell always made her expect to see her father behind the bar, her mother coming through a door holding a pot of stew. If she closed her eyes and breathed in she could see their faces, long-dead though they both were. Her younger brother – the one she’d not known about, because she hadn’t known her mother was carrying him when she left for the Tower – had taken over when her father became too old, and his son now ran it, probably with the assistance of his own son. She’d not been back in a while, and last time she did, she hadn’t announced who she was, it was reassurance enough to see the likeness of her mother and father in the face of the man serving.

She stopped now, outside one bar, the Flame and Void – it had been named to appeal to Warders, but instead was favoured by travelling merchants of the less well-off variety, and other people passing through the city who wanted somewhere clean and friendly to drink, eat and stay, but which wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg.

Like many of Tar Valon’s inns, fighting was infrequent, and as an Aes Sedai Sasra felt safe in just about any of the city’s drinking establishments. She didn’t drink, as such, not to get drunk, but just to sit in a corner of a common room nursing some spiced wine for an evening made her feel connected with her own past, her history, her childhood. She’d sit and watch people, listen to the singing, watch the dancing. She never joined in with the dances, but often could be seen smiling and singing along quietly to songs that seemed to be the same wherever you went. Sometimes the words were a little different, sometimes the tune was different, but generally songs didn’t change much. Music and singing seemed to be a universal constant.

This inn had caught her attention though. One of the small windows was open, and she could hear singing from inside. An enthusiastic voice, singing a song that she hadn’t heard in years. The tune was even the same as the one she knew for the song. She stood outside humming along to it, and smiling as she mouthed the words. She couldn’t help herself, and drawn by the memories of her youth she opened the door and quietly entered the common room, standing near to the small bar at the back.

A young woman, attractive, with longish dark hair was standing near to the fireplace, not just singing a song, but performing it in such a way that it looked as if she was delivering a class to a room of novices. The men laughed at the words, and all some, but not all, joined in for the chorus. She was certainly holding their attention well, and none turned to look at her as she stood there watching and smiling.

“The big-eyed young lady o’er there by the wall.”, she pointed generally in Sasra’s direction with this line, and many of her audience turned to look.

“Is looking around for knees on which to dandle.

Voluptuous movements have them all in thrall…”

As she continued singing, Sasra’s appearance began to register on the faces of those who had turned at the singer’s gesture. Men nudged othger men, eyes widened and jaws dropped open. Someone grabbed the singer’s arm as she paused theatrically, taking a deep breath, and hurriedly whispered something in her ear. A deathly hush seemed to descend on the room in an instant. Not just quiet, but it was almost as if all the sound had been somehow sucked out of the room. Sasra took a step forward, and the singer seemed to be looking for a deep hole to fall into.

“My dear woman, I have seen many, and I have to advise you that in general they are of varying lengths.”, she took another step forward, and there was a sound of sucked-in breath around her and wood scraping on wood as men who had been laughing less than a minute before tried to move as far out of the way as possible.

“But that said, the best ones do indeed have bloody long handles.”

The singer stared at her, seeming to be juggling with some kind of internal dilemma. Sasra maintained her smile, but raised both of her eyebrows and glanced around the room.

“Why has the fiddle player stopped? I believe you have yet to cover Shienar, Arad Doman, and possibly that dark verse, if you feel so inclined. Don’t worry, I’m not squeamish about such things.”

She sat down in an empty chair with her spiced wine, and looked up at the woman who still seemed to be staring in disbelief or confusion, and took a sip, as the fiddle player began again, if a little hesitantly.

Sasra Cooper, Aes Sedai of the Grey Ajah.

Bonded to Urien Santra.

Ok folks - I've finally managed to get a hold of the people who host our site, and things are being resolved. We should have the site back in a matter of months.

Only joking - we should really be talking in terms of hours.

Fear ye not, dear people, the situation is in hand.

I've contacted our hosting people, and I hope to hear back from them very soon. In the meantime, please bear with us - normal service should be resumed soon.

BIO: Oriella Distung

Sitter of the Green Ajah

Name: Oriella Distung

Age: 150+

Born: Fal Dara in Sheinar

Parents: Father was a lancer. Her mother was a beautiful lady, skilled in anything she put her hand to. She was patient and took time to teach her daughter all she knew. Her father was a simple fighter with more passion than stature. He died in a skirmish along the blight when she was only 12. Her mother grieved for the rest of her life and kept to the women’s quarters then, except when she needed to come for her daughter.

Hair: Blonde

Eyes: Green

Height: 5’8”

Build: Athletic

Appearance and Clothing: She has always worn the latest fashions, but she prefers to wear lighter colors with simple elaboration (a single vine of embroidery where others might put a field of flowers, a touch of lace where others might have their hands covered by it) and in plain colors rather than any kind of patterns. Her hair is long and straight and she constantly plays with it, wearing it in any fashion she desires.

Personality: Oriella is a warm person. She loves people and is warm and friendly with them. She enjoys laughing and dancing. She’s been known to turn a head or two in her times and enjoyed it, but she isn’t a lightskirt and it has never been something flaunted around. She enjoys life in all it’s forms. She prefers simple beauty to ostentation and it shows in her appearance, her quarters, in the way she lives her life. She is very smart though and has always understood that it is sometimes easier to get what you want when people aren’t aware you want it. She shows people her loving side so they don’t ever see the shrewd calculating side.

Background: Oriella was born to a Lancer in Fal Dara. As a child he played with her with pretend swords and little men carved from wood. They would play at making battles of their own making or reinact battle they had read about together (Never a battle her father had been in. He didn’t want her to understand where her father really was in those) Her mother laughed at them and let them play. When he was away she taught Oriella embroidery and knitting and other womanly arts. Her father died when Oriella was 12 and her mother went into mourning. Her Aunt and Uncle (her father’s only sister) pulled in closely to them then, helping to raise Oriella. She was well loved and though she had lost her father, she kept him in her thoughts as she continued on with life. Their pretend battles continued with her Uncle when he had found her crying over them one day. She had confessed to him that she didn’t think she could continue playing with them anymore and her Uncle and pulled them out of her hands and placed them on the table, telling her that her father would have wanted her to remember him by continuing. Since then, any type of ‘battlefield’ reminds her of her father.

At age 16, an Aes Sedai came through the city to tour the Blight. She stayed for a couple weeks and Oriella was approached by her. She said she thought Oriella could be Aes Sedai and there was a test she could take. Oriella jumped at the chance. She was fascinated by Aes Sedai, by the respect and awe and fear they inspired. She was tested and when the Aes Sedai left the city, Oriella was with her. She had a hard time adjusting to being a Novice as she had been fairly spoiled by her family in Fal Dara and she had a number of incidents that led to a switching from the Mistress of Novices. She had a nasty temper and hadn’t learned to control it yet. In time she did and as she gained the right of Acceptance, she began working towards something besides the shawl. A cause. What she saw in the world was the injustice of how Aes Sedai were treated. Women who strove to make people better, to make the world better, and they were at best treated with reserved respect and mostly with fear and hate. She kept this idea to herself as she worked hard in her studies, kept her tongue leashed, and learned everything she could. Specifically she studied strategy, the history of the lands and their relations to others (other countries, other ways of thinking, other ways of life). For a while it looked to people like she would be a brown, as much time as she spent with her nose buried, but when she finally came out of the books it was with an eye for the world.

Upon reaching the Shawl, Oriella petitioned the Green Ajah. Her private war to increase the reputation of Aes Sedai was something she kept closely guarded and didn’t talk about to anyone. In time her ability to lead was recognized and she was placed in charge of a number of Campaigns in the world. Wherever she went she did much for the name of Aes Sedai. She was careful to seem courteous and kind to all, warm and friendly as opposed to the image of the cool and cold Aes Sedai in the Tower. After a time, she was elected to the position of Sitter. The position was welcome and Oriella felt like she had finally achieved a position where she could begin to work on her goals, but she was limited since she couldn’t leave the Tower. After only one term as Sitter, she stepped down and returned to the World. She had gained enough political power in her brief time as Sitter to forge some alliances with Sister of other Ajahs and it was those connections she called upon when she went back into the world. She remained there for a long time. In fact, long enough that some thought her dead. However when signs began to appear, Oriella made her way back to the White Tower and buried herself in her books again. It looked like the Last Battle was coming and she read everything she could of the Prophecies of the Dragon. She also began making her connections within the Tower again, showing her political prowess to strengthen her own position as well as that of her Ajah. When Aramina sur Dulciena left a vacancy in the Green Ajah Sitters, Oriella made sure she was the one to take her place.

Strengths/Weaknesses: Oriella is very good when it comes to strategy and manipulation. She’s learned to pull the strings from behind others and how to lead quietly. Others recognize her ready wit and warmth as a true love for people and know that she is willing to help. Most don’t see that behind that is a very calculating mind that sees warriors in a battle that they don’t know they are fighting. Her greatest weakness is her temper which she had learned to control most of the time. Once she knows you and knows she is safe with you though, she is apt to yell, scream, and occasionally throw things, which have started rumors among the servants of the Tower. They might not ever hear her yell but they’ve cleaned up too many vase shards to think it’s anything other than her throwing them.

Taya! Good to see you back!

There's no need for a new bio. You can always come up with some way of explaining a lengthy absence if you like - like a kind of "Return to the Tower" RP, but it's not really essential.

See? We kept your room just as you'd left it. :)

James, you take nothing seriously!

You were a novice when I joined the White Tower - talk about taking your time!

Congratulations to the both of you!

Hey Trish! It'll be good to see you back with us whenever you have the time.. :-)

Good luck with everything in the meantime!

Thanks everyone. I know that Rob, and his predecessors, have all left some pretty big shoes fo me to fill, but I'll do my very best to fill them, and I shall use expanding insoles if needs be.

I'd like to thank Owen and Muirenn for their confidence in me, and I hope that I won't prove them wrong.

And to those of you who already know me, well, you already know me. To those who don't, you soon will. And I'm quite nice. Really. Honestly.

Russ/Sasra