~Darin~

He watched the initiates with a mixture of amusement and contempt twisting his already twisted features.  The scar tissue covering his left cheek rippled, life animated by the dead, as it were.  The skin would never regenerate but the muscles underneath still danced their macabre dance, giving him an appearance that often had people questioning his allegiance to the Light.  He heard the whispers: “Darkfriend.  What under the Light would keep him as he looks?  He is a filthy misshapen Darkfriend.”  At least he was certain they were not voices in his head.  He had enough on his plate without being tortured by the fact of being a channelling male.  Darin shivered and twitched his white cloak irritably, setting the sunburst into graphic motion.

“All right!” He bellowed, his voice booming back from the corners of the room and making some of the less sober occupants of the tavern hold their heads in morning-after pain.  Darin merely sneered.  “Regroup!  We leave this place in a while.  Anyone not here by the time we leave gets left behind and will get woken up in the middle of the night so they may practice not being tardy!”  That got their attention.  One by one, the trainees finished their tasks quickly and made their way back to the common room where Darin was idly questioning one of the serving maids.  She was yawning, obviously wanting her bed and more than a little intimidated by the morning’s events. 

Darin pointed to one of the trainees.  “You, there” he began, pointing a white-gloved finger “tell me.  What did you notice about the effects of ale on people?  It makes them loud and sometimes abusive, yes?”  Various nods.  “If people lose their inhibitions and become violent, that does not speak very well for them, does it?”  Various shakes of head this time.  “Well then.  Appearances are everything, yes?”  Darin walked up and down the assembled initiates and shook his head.  “We are Children of the Light.  We wear this uniform for a reason, so that people may know we hold certain standards and walk in the Light.  Ale loosens the tongue and Darkfriends could hold sway anywhere inhibitions are lowered and the mind opened to possibilities it would not otherwise consider.  Watch taverns carefully!”

“Now then, each of you will give a short speech as to why you will wear this uniform whenever you may be seen by anyone in future.  Now then,” he said, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his epaulette “why do you wear this uniform?”

OOC – Step forward, step forward.  Write your character giving a short presentation about what differences in treatment they received compared to Darin in full uniform.  Tell him why you will wear the uniform and the reasons for doing so, and this lesson will be complete.  You may write your character being dismissed and walking back to the barracks one by one after you have given your speech. 

Ok, I might need a bit of help with the web-creation stuff, but otherwise I'll work on this in the next few days for you. :)  Just give me a gentle poke if it isn't done by the end of the week :D

*curtsies gracefully*  Thanks, Jaydena. :)  *flexes fingers*  I can't wait to start bringing some Blue style :D

Hi all. :)  As you may have seen on the WS/OP Score Reports I have started creating threads for each character to log their Weapon Score increases.  So, in order to make sure I have everything covered, could you please let me know your current Weapon Score (or One Power Score for that matter) I can make sure you have a progression thread and you can increase at whatever pace you choose. :)

http://aliciawilkerson.com/freelanders/?page_id=160

This is a list that details all of the various levels of Freelander Weapon Scores.  If you have not yet been assigned one, let me know by PM and I'll get in touch. :)

Ok, this is the thread where any increases to Weapon Score (i.e., posts where self-defence is mentioned or any fights, etc) can be logged.  Your starting Weapon Score is 4 and you can find an explanation of your score and ways to improve it here: http://aliciawilkerson.com/freelanders/?page_id=160

Only post here when you have a link to a thread you want considering for your WS increase.  Thanks!

Ok, this is the thread where any increases to Weapon Score (i.e., posts where self-defence is mentioned or any fights, etc) can be logged.  Your starting Weapon Score is 3 and you can find an explanation of your score and ways to improve it here: http://aliciawilkerson.com/freelanders/?page_id=160

Only post here when you have a link to a thread you want considering for your WS increase.  Thanks!

Ok, this is the thread where any increases to Weapon Score (i.e., posts where self-defence is mentioned or any fights, etc) can be logged.  Your starting Weapon Score is 2 and you can find an explanation of your score and ways to improve it here: http://aliciawilkerson.com/freelanders/?page_id=160 

Only post here when you have a link to a thread you want considering for your WS increase.  Thanks!

Right, I'm doing this now, definitely!  Must do it!  Must!!

ooh, just noticed this :)  Sorry, will get to it! 

For the Blues, my only current RP is the one with Raeyn - Sepia Toned (Link above)  Hopefully going to get more soon though!

~Dilora~

Every bounce the wagon made gave her cause for concern.  As the Andoran hills changed to the flat of near-civilisation, Dilora looked to the horizon to see the town of Four Kings loom at her.  No doubt there had been closer places to go, but she felt the need to have somewhere a little more populated for now.  Caemlyn would be next on her list, for re-supply and to find a really good tavern, but for now the relative anonymity of Four Kings would suit her purpose admirably.  Grass gave way to paved streets, a blissful change from the cobbled stones most villages had, and soon her eyes were filled with sights of shops selling their wares and people bustling about their daily lives as though they had no cares in the world.  She felt a brief twinge for the commerce she was losing with every day that passed but there was nothing to do but wait it out and find someone to help her with her injuries.

Tending a horse alone was hard work.  Ensuring her beloved mare was curried and stabled by a lad that looked to know what he was about, Dilora asked him briefly if there was a Wisdom in the village and if there was, where she might find him.  Fortunately for her, the majority of her bruises were under her clothes and only her pained gait would give anything away.  She bore a few healing scabs on her face from shards of glass, but those could have been anything. 

The lad passed the information along without hesitation; the silver coin Dilora placed in his hand for his hard work and discretion helped with that.  He told her where she could park the wagon so it would not attract too much attention until she was ready, leading her to an area where carriages could offload heavy cases for visiting nobility, and a large shed with a stout lock on the door would protect her cargo, too.  Dilora smiled, remembering the old times and the fun she had had out on the road.  And promptly winced as a chill wind caught her back and she straightened to a painful ache in her shoulder.

“Do you want me to fetch the Wisdom for you, good mistress?”  The stable lad asked.  He did not look around from grooming Altie, and the mare looked content enough.  “No,” Dilora replied, “I’ll go and find her, thank you.”  Bowing, the lad returned to his work and Dilora set her shoulders against the aches, leaving Altie in the man’s care.

The street outside was quiet; few people were abroad and from the look of the large bank of dark, heavy cloud bullying it’s way over the rooftops, they had reason to not venture outdoors.  It looked as though the heavens would soon open.  It was most definitely not a day to be abroad.  Increasing her pace a little, Dilora ambled along, looking at each of the houses shrewdly until she came to one that looked promising.  She knocked on the door. 

And was promptly directed a few doors down the road.  Cursing under her breath, Dilora trudged to the relevant door and knocked loudly.  Her shoulder ached, so when she stepped back she massaged it with her hand.  Light, but she must look a sight! 

Thanks, hon!  Looking forward to writing again!

Excellent, think we can avoid the Backstreet Boys, unless someone is starting a Randland song contest :D

Welcome aboard, Nyn! 

~Ruan~

Ruan watched the woman for reactions and silently praised the external calm she exuded.  Flying at such high altitude must call for great calm, but usually fliers were out of their depth on land.  Looking at her through the sheer black veil, Ruan placed the cup down on the table and picked up a piece of paper that detailed Sabelle Bakarath’s career to date.

“Many commendations, I see.”  The piece of paper was returned to the desktop and a second piece of paper bearing the official mark of her superior officer replaced it.  “Sabelle Bakarath, for your service to the Empress, may She live forever, you have been awarded a promotion to the rank of Der’morat’raken.”  Ruan looked at her own fingertips and the long nails that extended out, lacquered brightly with the colour of her rank.  “There is more,” she added, taking a sip of wine.

“The promotion will naturally come with larger accommodation than your previous rank, Der’morat’raken.    You will have a choice of rooms near to your Raken, and you will be the Lady of a small town on the outlying districts of Seanchan as your reward.”  She held up a slender dark hand as though to forestall any questions, even though most would dare not speak in her presence.  “These are, naturally, in addition to any estates or privileges you already hold.”

From a compartment in the desk drawer, Ruan Athaem Kore Paendrag, Daughter of the Nine Moons, pulled out a small pot of green lacquer and placed it on the table.  “You may also lacquer two of your fingernails now, and wear your hair as your rank dictates.”  She smiled.  Many had said that it was difficult to see her true colours when she smiled.  “I expect your immediate and personal attention should I ever call upon you to act as a scout or a messenger for me, do I make myself clear?”

Best of lick!  I mean luck!  Best of luck!

Thinking of you, hon! :) *snuggles*

~Ruan~

Calmly, Ruan waited.  Promotion to a higher rank was always a joyous occasion, particularly when due recognition was finally being awarded to someone deserving.  The reports in front of her gave glittering commendation to the young flier that was entering the room, and this was something she felt she could personally use to her advantage.  In the privacy of her chambers, Ruan had read through each achievement and nodded to herself.  The woman had enough experience at handling a Raken, and was able to follow orders well.  She had proven herself in Raken care, and her peers held her in a generally high esteem.  Her background was nondescript; a house of some note but nothing of major interest.  In short, she was perfect for Ruan’s needs.

She adjusted the black silk veil minutely, ensuring the folds of the delicate fabric hung gracefully with sapphires so dark they were almost black sewn in at strategic points to resemble the night sky when it caught the light.  A promotion here would most likely ensure the gratitude of this … Sabelle Bakarath, Morat’raken and give the Daughter of the Nine Moons another pawn that swore personal loyalty to her as well as the one out of duty.  Love and duty were far from the same thing.  She had loved her sister once.  Once, before she had been forced to defenestrate her.

A knock at the door was swiftly answered by one of Ruan’s most trusted So’jhin.   Ruan remained looking out of the window at the sky outside, watching the routine practice formations the Raken made in their daily drills.  It was impressive.  Yet another advantage the Seanchan had that would be fully utilised upon the day of the Return, and Ruan meant to use every advantage she had.  “Sabelle Bakarath,” she began, turning around to face the woman “ Morat’raken.    You have shown a remarkable devotion to your duty and your beast.  The Empire endorses that.”  Ruan took a step forward and a Da’covale placed a cup of wine into her hand.  “It has been brought to my attention, your diligence in the name of the Empress, may She live forever, and we would like to convey our gratitude.”  She paused, enigmatically.

This bio is on hold pending review.

Thanks, hon!  Right, now back to writing.  Hmm, I need some RPs!!

http://img183.imageshack.us/img183/1713/connie2by0.jpg

^ character image, for referrence

Handle: Jehaine

Character Name: Jehaine

Email address: amyante[at]hotmail[dot]com

Aspiring Society: Far Dareis Mai

Weapons of Choice: Spear

Clan (Dragonmount or Shaido): Dragonmount

Physical Description:

Like most Aiel, Jehaine is pretty tall, standing at 6 ft 3 and weighing roughly 136 pounds. She has red hair, falling down to her shoulders in length, and blue eyes. She has a fair skin, which is tanned from her years spent in the Waste. It should be noted that she has more stamina than the average Aiel due to the amount of punishments she has been given due to her disorder -- more on this later.

As far as clothing is concerned, she wears -- surprise, surprise -- a brown and gray cadin'sor. Her boots are made from the skin of an animal she had killed herself, and despite it being a relatively easy thing for an Aiel to do she is nevertheless proud of it. Though she actually prefers to just wear her shoufa around her neck, leaving her head free, the Waste is not as agreeable, forcing her to keep the garment wrapped around her head as well during the day.

Place of Birth/Raising: Chareen clan, White Mountain sept.

Personality:

Jehaine is optimistic and carefree, and if there is one word that would fit her best it would be 'impulsive'. She is quite clever in terms of knowledge, but tends to be forgetful and easily distracted in general, though she tries to make up for it by overly concentrating on what she's supposed to remember. This can be blamed on being born with the Asperger Syndrome*, as well as a mild case of ADHD**, though either of those would be unknown to the people of the Third Age.

Despite being socially inept, she likes to try out new things, which more often than not lands her in trouble as these 'new things' generally involve ignoring existing instructions in favor of her own. Because of all of this, she has developed a good amount of insecurity and self-esteem issues, though she tries to be empathic to others.

On a more positive note, her perception is excellent, and the unprecedented amount of punishments she's been forced to do gave her a degree of stamina that's well above the average Maiden. She has no problem coming up with new ideas, though that would only be a small consolation when keeping in mind that she couldn't follow an organised plan to save her life.

Character History:

Jehaine was born as the daughter of a Maiden who hadn't given up the spear. As such, her true parents are unknown to her, though given that this was fairly common among the Maidens it didn't strike her as odd. During her younger years, she liked being around children one or two years younger than her to play games with, though socially interacting with children her age (or older) still proved to be a problem.

Either way, her introvert nature gave her plenty of time to spend on her studies, and as a result she became one of the top students of the group of children she was taught reading and math in. Not quite feeling comfortable around others, she could be found reading books whenever she could get her hands on one, though of course, being Aiel, training with the spear took up most of her time as it was. 

In a strange way, she enjoyed fighting. It helped her clear her mind, and not think about the things she was supposed to say or do, wondering if they'd make people feel uncomfortable. When someone would have said her spears and her books were the only friends she had, it wouldn't be too far from the truth. Still, she was a fast student, and it seemed almost certain she'd end up joining the Maidens despite her relatively young age of sixteen years.

The trials were hard, as could be expected in the Waste, but she managed to think -- and fight -- her way through them with reasonable ease. After all, the trials didn't test someone's social skills, for which she was grateful, and she wasn't familiar enough with people doing her favors enough to be held back by lack of them. Though her elders were a little doubtful on whether she'd make a good Maiden, her results in the Trials balanced out her punishment record enough to at least give her a chance, despite the betting of the other candidates that she'd be made gai'shain within the first two weeks.

Bio for Ivy, daughter of Flora, daughter of Mari

Player: Winter Mist

Race: Ogier

Division: Freelanders

Stedding: Shangtai

Age: 142

Height: 6’ 7”

Weight: It is rude to ask a lady, you know

Eyes: large and brown, and very peaceful

Hair: chestnut brown, and always decked with whatever flowers she can find

Weapon of choice: she is a pacifist, but carries a sling and a pouch of stones with which she is rather proficient.

Personality:  Ivy is very quiet and determined.  Her personality is at odds with that of most of the Ogier females that would rule the males in the Stedding and leave them in their domestic care to ensure they do not come to grief.  She believes in freedom and is therefore is somewhat of a dreamer.  She loves nature and flowers, and knows a great deal about herb lore.

Appearance: Her face is round and cheerful looking, with a sense of peace and contentment behind her nut-brown eyes.  She wears her hair in a bun made by wrapping a braid around itself and strands of her fringe frame her face.  Her long eyelashes brush her cheeks and she is prone to smiling at the slightest little things.  Short for an Ogier, she makes up for it with her smile, and many have called her “quite disarming”.

History: As a little Ogier, Ivy, daughter of Flora, daughter of Mari would sit for hours listening to her father going on about life outside the Stedding walls.  She would sit, entranced, while her beloved papa would talk of the people he had met on such and such a trip.  Ivy’s father was a builder, one of the great stonemasons that had put their heart and craft into the buildings of some great city or other.  Little Ivy loved to hear the tales of the humans.  She turned her nose up at the politics and frowned at the wars, but when her father made mention to a wedding of note, or some tale with a romantic twist, Ivy’s large, round eyes would light up like the sunset.

Her mother would look on bemusedly.  As long as Ivy was not getting any notions about leaving the Stedding looking for adventure, then Flora had no objections to the tales.  And throughout Ivy’s first few decades of life, she kept listening to the stories, not wanting to leave the Stedding and hoping her father would continue to regale her with tales of the outside.

In addition to her usual lessons, Ivy showed an interest in the plants and flowers that grew all around them.  After listening to the romances, she would borrow one of the books on local flora and lay carefully collected samples from around the Stedding on her bed.  She would try to identify them, storing their names to memory before pressing them between available blank pages so they would keep longer.  Ivy learnt about the different uses for various bits of various plants and, under her mother’s careful supervision, she began to make rudimentary cures.  Willowbark, she discovered, was sovereign for headaches, and began to keep her own book of notes on the subject.

Her life became less peaceful just after her ninety-seventh birthday.  A party of travellers came to Stedding Shangtai, and among them was another Ogier.  Flora must have taken note of how her daughter always seemed to be looking at the newly arrived Ogier, and contrived for Ivy to be present wherever he was.  Ivy did not notice her mother’s machinations but appreciated being in Jeran’s proximity.  Jeran.  When Ivy said the name to herself, it was romantic and special.  She made him a necklace of daisies and placed it around his neck, serving him drinks and food while her mother contemplated making arrangements for a betrothal.

After an unseemly short stay, a scant few weeks in total, Jeran and the rest of his party left the peace and tranquillity of Stedding Shangtai.  Ivy was inconsolable.  She had thought he would stay with her, forever, just like in the stories, but no.  He had gone, left to find whatever it was he was searching for.  Moping in her room, Ivy looked through the flowers remaining and put them into her satchel, along with her book of notes on plants and their uses, and went to her mother.

“Mother, what was Jeran’s party going to search for?”

“Aiel.”

Her mother’s short answer left Ivy speechless.  She had heard the war that was raging, but was not sure she wanted to follow someone intent on investigating that.  Still, Ivy wanted to follow Jeran, and the Aiel might know about some strange plants.    “But Mother…” Ivy began, looking up through eyelashes that brushed her cheeks “surely there is something I could do to help.  I know lots about herb and plant lore.”  Flora shook her head, effectively ending the conversation.

“Do not by hasty, Ivy, by putting a long handle on your axe.  I know you are interested in Jeran as a companion and, knowing that look in your eyes, as a mate, but there is more to your life than risking your neck in a hasty quest.”

A light, the light of cunning, appeared in Ivy’s eyes.  “Would you allow me to go on a short trip outside the Stedding to research plants and flowers when I have come of age, my Mother?”  The years to wait would be a bind, but she would not forget Jeran’s look or his cause.  Flora nodded, adding that there were some rare species of plant to the north.  Ivy smiled.  The party had left in that direction and there was no doubt that her mother suspected Ivy’s intent.  “Just come home safe and do not involve yourself too much with the affairs of humans” her mother admonished.  Ivy nodded and curtsied to Flora and went to her room to ready her belongings.  She would pack and repack every day until she was officially considered an adult, and on that day she would leave the Stedding and head to look for Jeran.

*NB  Another one of mine.  Crosscheck needed please :)

Basic Information

Handle : Tigara

Character Count : 3

Contact : tigara@look.ca

Character Information

Name: Aos der'Kelman

Age: 25

Nationality: Ghealdanin

Weapon of Choice: Chinese style halberd (Spear with a curved blade on the end of it)

Appearance

Hair: Dark, feathery hair down to shoulders.

Eyes: Brown

Skin: Tanned from lots of time outside.

Height: 6'1"

Weight: 195

Optional

Special Skills: A moderate control of saidin. (Low skill level, average strength.)

Physical Weakness: Mute

Personality

Aos is a quiet type, as one would imagine with having a misformed larynx. He is very passionate, but only when driven by money. Because of that, he is very greedy. He tends to be antisocial, only communicating when making a deal, which is done by writing. Being unable to speak, he quickly became very literate, so as to be able to communicate effectively. He is an intelligent gent, but not very polite.

History

Aos was born in a large village just south of Jehannah to Avery and Madeline der'Kelman. His father was a fletcher, his mother was the Wisdom of the village, and Aos was born unable to speak. His parents worried he was a retard, but as he aged, he showed considerable academic skill. So they just assumed he was a mute. He lived a lonely childhood. The other children didn't wasn't to play with him because he couldn't talk. So he played by himself mostly, with a brother or sister, occasionally. He has four brothers, two are older and two are younger, and then two younger sisters.

There was celebration going on in Jehannah when Aos was about 8. The Queen's daughter was engaged, so a festival was being held, with all invited. Aos and his whole family went to join. To honor the celebration, the Queen's advisor, an Aes Sedai of the Yellow Ajah, was offering Healing. His mother took Aos to see her. The Yellow took Aos' head in her hands, removed her hands, and simply told his mother that she could not Heal what was wrong. His larynx was naturally formed wrong. That told Aos that he had no hope of ever speaking. But while he was in Jehannah, something caught his eye.

The palace guards inspired him. He saw how they watched for danger and how they used their weapons like an extension of their arm. He wanted to be a soldier. During his spare time at home, he would go into the woods and practice swinging with his sword he fashioned out of a large oak branch. A retired soldier noticed him, and saw fire in his eyes. He took Aos under his wing and taught him to fight, at first with swords, but then Aos took to a unique style of halberd. It was like a curved sword on the end of a spear. He liked it better, so that was what he learned. It was during his training with the veteran that he was taught The Flame and The Void,

Once he was old enough, he tried signing up for the army, but they wouldn't take him because of his disability. He became angry, so he ran off from Ghealdan. He knew little more, so he found work guarding merchants. But it didn't pay well, so he began looking for high paying jobs. He grew skilled with his weapon, so he began being asked to do jobs. There was little he wouldn't do, or at least try, so he sometimes got into trouble. But he was gaining fame in the Andor/Murandy area.

He spent time off in taverns, sitting in the back corner, reading or smoking his pipe. Yet, other times, he would sit there, in the trancelike state, which is known as the Flame and the Void. It helped him concentrate on the fighting, and helped calm himself after a long day. But when he was about 19, he started to see a light out of the corner of his eye when he was in the Void. It wasn't always there, but often. He ignored it at first, but then he grew curious. He finally gave in and "reached for it", if that's what he did could be called. Suddenly, he was filled with life. His hearing, sight, and feeling was all much stronger, and they were stronger than most other people's in the first place. But there was also a sickening film that he could feel. Could this be the dreaded saidin? He quickly suppressed it and retired to his bed.

But he longed for the feeling it gave him, the feeling of really being alive. He wandered his way deep into the woods near Aringill, and there he practiced. He could easily take hold of it now, and he had figured out how to do some of the weaves. He could do a decent bit with air, and could easily make fireballs and lights, but anything else was usually random. After he got a stable basis with this new power of his, he didn't use it often, unless in an emergency. He didn't want to go mad from the taint.

Just within the last year or two, he started hearing rumors about a place where men who could channel were being taught, just like the White Tower. He had heard it called the Black Tower. He would have liked to receive a bit of teaching, but he had no interest in being part of a group. He didn't like people. So he kept on doing what he knew best, being a mercenary.

Handle: Raeyn

Character Name: Saerythra Al'Thorin (Sari for short)

Email address: Raeynsedai@yahoo.com

Division: Freelanders

Age: 53

Gender: Female

Physical Description: 5'3, 160lbs.  Shoulder-length brown hair with some gray, dark brown eyes.  Her skin is a healthy tanned colour, but has started to go wrinkly with age.  A few nicks and cuts, but no real scars of note (that anyone can see, that is!).

Place of Birth/Raising: Four Kings in Andor

Character History: Saerythra is the middle daughter of a prosperous farmer near Four Kings in Andor, and the first child of her father Daeric's second wife.  Her father's first wife died in childbirth with her third child and first daughter, Allriendrae, and her father spent many year grieving before remarrying.  His second wife and Saerythra's mother is Latima, the Wisdom of Four Kings.  She also has two younger sisters, and a brother between those two.

Saerythra spent most of her life being big sister to her other siblings from Latima, but still had to put up with babying from her elder siblings before they made their own way in the world.  Not that she had to put up with it for very long or very seriously; her older siblings eventually decided to leave Four Kings and the surrounding area in search of a better life, leaving her pretty much as the oldest kid around.  Not that she could blame her siblings for leaving; passing travelers made the outside world sound a lot more appealing.

From a young age, Saerythra had taken an interest in her mother's craft, and pestered Latima often to learn her skills.  Her mother, pleased to be able to pass on her knowledge to her own kin, allowed young Saerythra to follow her around on house calls (when Sari didn't have chores, of course!), and drilled her on herbs and their uses in moments of free time.  Once she was in her late teens, Sari was accepted by her mother as her official apprentice, and allowed her to start helping with minor cases around the town.

In her early 20s, she was helping a merchant's guard at a local inn, when she saw a man a few years her elder at the inn looking at her.  Bemused, she decided to speak to him after finishing with her patient.  This turned out to be Marric, a new blacksmith in town who had come from a nearby village and had hoped to make his way in the world doing repairs for passing merchants and such.  They got to talking, and after a fairly short courtship, they were wed.  Sari moved into town proper with her new husband, and was quite happy with it all.

Years passed, and Saerythra bore three children of her own; the middle child Rhiana is her only daughter.  As she had pestered her own mother, Rhiana pestered Saerythra to learn the craft as her brothers helped Marric out in the forge.  In time, her children followed in her siblings' footsteps and set out elsewhere into the world to seek their fortune, but Saerythra was wedded to her duty and her people, and stayed put.  She could understand the appeal of the greater world as travelers described it, but she was ever the homebody... and she met enough interesting, strange, and sundry people in her line of work anyways.

In her 'old' age, Saerythra remains a caring and compassionate person, but is able to cheerfully bend people to her will as needed.  And, of course, it is needed with some of her 'patients'.  She takes pride in her stubborn streak, and does her best to take care of everyone in town, local or not, because she feels the need to continue in her mother's footsteps.

Oh yeah, I'm back now. More coming soon!

~Rossa~

Captured.  The essence of a moment or person could easily be captured with deft pencil strokes or descriptive story telling, and yet the likeness could only be held as long as the materials lasted, and it was never the same as the real thing.  Rossa mused long over the quandary she had noted down.  If food were to keep better, there had to be some way of preserving it better.  All of the standard methods of pickling, drying and salting, and to some extent smoking and curing, were already in use with many towns and villages employing every method they could to protect against what they considered to be harsh weather approaching, or at least hard times. 

A painting would capture the essence of abundance, but a painting could not feed starving children, or men readying themselves for war.  Food supplies were dwindling in many areas.  The harvests were never as bountiful as the year before, or the year before that, or the year before that …

She put her knuckle to her lips and worried at it with her teeth.  Times were getting harder for everyone, and those of the White Tower were supposed to protect and guide those in need.  Servant of all, Aes Sedai meant.  A servant of all but what good was that if there was nothing to serve?  Shaking her head free from such unaccustomed thinking, Rossa put her hand down on the desk and looked over at the window.

A single bloom, a rose that her Warder, Nerome, had given her earlier in the year sat in a crystal vase on the windowsill.  Kept at the height of its beauty with a keeping weave, it would never diminish, and never fall to the ravages of time.  The weave had been tied off; it was immobile.  As if drawn, Rossa rose from her chair and crossed to the window.  She plucked the rose from its vase and turned it over and over in her hands, the roundish leaves falling across the fingertips and over the Great Serpent ring she wore.  It was kept, so it would not rot.  What would happen if you could undo a keeping weave just when you needed it?

She did not even realise she had sat down on her bed, still examining the fragile bloom in both hands.  Rossa looked at it for what seemed an eternity, nurturing the beginnings of an idea.  If you could set traps using Saidar, as she had heard was possible, then surely it could be used as a catch on an item such as a barrel, and then those barrels given to the general public.  Keeping barrels for the poor, so that fresh food could be accessed whenever it was needed.  It could only be used once unless an Aes Sedai reset the trigger, and she would need to work on a way of opening it so the contents were perfectly edible, in the same way anything was when released from a weave.  She needed more information about keeping weaves and there was only one place possible for that.  The library.

As her door closed behind her and she strode away from the Blue Ajah quarters, Rossa shivered uncomfortably.  This project would require more thinking than she had originally thought.  What if someone used the barrels for ill intent?  If someone was imprisoned in one, kept for undetermined periods of time without escape or air?  What would the effects be?  What about working in some safeguards to ensure people or anything alive could not be fitted into them?  There were so many little details; she would need to borrow a lot of books and do a lot or research.  The Brown Ajah might be able to help her with that.  They had knowledge from the histories that were not generally considered mainstream unless people asked.  To Rossa’s knowledge this was the first time she had heard of this particular concept, but there was nothing new under the sun, as the saying went.  She walked purposefully towards the library, her hands at her belt pouch and the charcoal pencils contained therein.

Well, I'm back(ish); should be back around properly on Monday.  I'm still in the middle of sorting Real Life out, but my handle on it is a lot better than previously.  Thanks for bearing with me. :)

*snuggles Eqwina*  Come write with me, hon!