The woman had a magnificent head of red hair set against a darker-toned skin that suggested Domani or perhaps Altaran heritage; a combination that was almost impossible by nature and was achieved by a bottle of pigment she’d seen hawked in a few stores.  Upon closer view, Addison could see hints of brown near the woman’s scalp.  Actually, seeing the woman closer made the little farm girl more than a little uncomfortable – why bother wearing clothes at all if the woman was barely going to cover the... private bits?  The woman had absolutely no shame and why should she?  Addi half-expected the woman to fall over, no way could that waist support the woman’s bosom!

When the prostitute noticed them staring, she sauntered over.  How on earth could she walk with such high shoes?  The new trainee did her best to hide her nerves; apparently she didn’t succeed.  “It’s alright, baby, no need to be shy.  You two aren’t my usual style, but I suppose I could make an exception.”  Addi flinched as the woman ran a finger along her cheek and the woman’s responsive laugh was more than suggestive.

“She’ll do.”  Her voice cracked like a fourteen year-old boy’s.

“And what is it I’m doing?”

OOC: Commence blasting from dizzy height :P

Whatever had happened to the meek Accepted of years gone by that knew their place and did not question the authority of Aes Sedai?  Nastascia was going to have a word with the Mistress of Novices about this child, bloody Red couldn’t handle her charges!  She was probably too busy dreaming of chasing after some poor, doomed boy.

Maybe that wasn’t fair, but Nasty was tired, damnit!  In the meantime, this poor girl would have to bear the brunt of her temper.  She sneered at the girl’s pathetic attempt at an excuse: claiming ignorance was the wrong answer.  “Child, we do encourage you to think!  Tell me, what do you imagine could be so important that a kitchen girl requires the presence of a specific Aes Sedai in the middle of the night?  Please, tell me what your imagination comes up with – wait, you’ve already stated that you’re incapable of thinking for yourself.  What kind of an Aes Sedai do you think you’ll make if you are so easily manipulated by another?”  Her voice was probably a touch too loud for this hour of the night; no doubt she had woken the Accepted in the rooms nearby.  On the plus side, this tongue lashing should deter any further pranks for the next few weeks.

“As for the secret identity of the messenger...  How many Accepted are there left in the Tower?  Too many that you can’t think of their names?  You know who it is.  Out with it!  Mucking out stalls isn’t the worse I could have you doing.”

took a little longer than I'd hoped, but I threw something up.

Reactions to the unorthodox object lesson were mixed; some of the girls seemed excited while those of the more serious calibre likely would have preferred straight lectures, scattered amongst these were the few Accepted that hadn’t even realised they’d been given instructions yet.  Sixty years back, Estel probably would have found herself in the last category – life was so much more than academics.  A number of the girls were taking to the card game with fervour, though.  The White Tower considered room, board, and education fair wages for the work they forced Accepted to do, so, the girls had to become rather creative with their bets.  Her dour features cracked for a moment and allowed a smile as she heard one girl raise the betting pool by promising immunity from pranks.  The Blue watched as two girls were left betting, only a small sum of cash in the centre of the table.  “Next prank you pull, I’ll take the blame.”  Damn, if only Elyssa had thought to include this in her own Daes Dae’mar class so many years ago.

Estel had made an entire round of the tables before amusement took over.  The Aes Sedai sat down at a table and reached into her coin purse, placing a copper mark on the table.  “We’ll start small then, shall we ladies?”  They seemed nervous to have an Aes Sedai at the table, most seemed eager enough to show off their skills for the teacher though – not so with her little nemesis.  Estel took the cards and dealt three cards to each of the players.  Nine of cups, two of winds, and four of flames: altogether and incredibly useless hand.  She might pick up a pair or, with a great deal of luck, three of a kind.  Despite the odds, the Blue Sister kept her face blank and as the bid came around to her, put down a silver mark.  The Accepted looked at one another, unable to match the bet.  “Well then, what if I told you I would owe the Accepted a favour?”

OOC: It would amuse me greatly for one of you to call her bluff.  You can also have your Accepted use her favour with Estel in a later RP or even later on in the class.

The tiny flicker of glee Estel felt as Lavinya approached probably wasn’t healthy, nor would it help turn any leaves; however, with more notches in the losing column than her opponent, the Blue was about to take pride in this victory.  Besides, she’d gone almost twenty-four hours without lashing out at anyone and Estel simply did not do well with pent-up emotion.  For her ears only, two voices sounded in unison: ‘Behave!’  It seemed Lavinya was listening to a similar conscience.  The woman followed the basic laws of social contract.  Her words could have been taken from a conversation between two civil strangers, but the Grey made no effort to hide a sardonic smile and Estel put less effort into masking her own condescending amusement.

“Two months and you’ve missed me?  If you’re in search of friends, I suggest looking elsewhere.  However, I can hardly turn down nostalgia and I am currently lacking company over breakfast.”  Besides, she was curious to see how dire the Grey’s emotional state was since the woman was desperate enough to ask her for help.

She would be an idiot to think Estel would not take great enjoyment from making her suffer, but the triumph in the Blue's gaze made Lavinya grit her teeth. Like it or no, she was in need of Estel's information and would just have to deal with the gleeful condescension that came her way.  "Life is decidedly dull without your brilliant conversation, sister." Lavinya replied smoothly, determined to maintain as much grace and dignity as possible throughout this encounter, and perhaps score a point or two of her own. "Breakfast and nostalgia, what a pleasant mix. Shall we dine in your apartments? We have much to discuss that few need to hear." Her dark gaze was intent, and she hoped Estel would be wise enough to understand the need to speak of the order and Sirayn without foolishly speaking the names where any could overhear.

Sarcasm.  She doled it out liberally but hated when the language was aimed at her, largely because it had been a favourite tool of Sirayn’s.  Despite the woman’s disappearance, Estel still fought the strings attached to the Green whose influence was only slightly diminished though lacking in actual presence.  This inability to distance herself from the woman affirmed the Blue’s belief that the woman was still alive - nothing could kill the damn woman!  No doubt, Sirayn’s disappearance was one of the topics of conversation.  If not for her alibi, Estel wondered if the Order might have suspected her of having something to do with the Amyrlin’s disappearance; it wouldn’t have been the first time she’d betrayed them, after all.

“Few indeed.”  The Blue glanced at Lavinya’s belly, pointedly, and smirked.  Considering unfortunate parallels to an episode some fifty years earlier, Estel really should have been more understanding; however, compassion was not one of her prominent personality traits.  “And might as well use my rooms.  I assume you haven’t had time to unpack?”  Light, was her apartment clean?

Lavinya did not miss the glance directed at her stomach which was yet to retain its former flatness, but her calm did not waver. Estel knew the truth of it and Lavinya would not hide from it. Best if she thought the issue would not concern Lavinya; then she might not bother to mention it. To have rumour reach Corin before she herself had managed to speak to him would be disastrous, though no one save herself knew his identity. "I have just these minutes past returned to the Tower, at present my room is being readied; but I'm certain your apartments would be more comfortable and devoid of servants." The smirk irritated her despite her efforts to let it roll off her shoulders, but she refused to let Estel see. Just let her try to use Elise as a pawn in her personal war! It would not happen. Waiting but a moment for Estel's nod of assent, Lavinya turned and began the twisting journey to the Blue apartments, Estel at her side.

No apparent reaction to her unsubtle jab at the Grey’s pregnancy; mind you, one might count the lack of a reaction a reaction in itself but Estel was no master of interpreting human behaviour – she had enough trouble just understanding herself.  Like now, the Blue found herself wondering whether the child had survived Lavinya’s ordeal in the Black Tower or if the child had been stillborn.  Which was better?  Was it better for the child to die, never forced to suffer the consequences of its clandestine existence and the absence of its mother, or would Lavinya try to raise the baby and to hell with the Hall?  Light burn her, she needed to stop projecting herself onto the Grey’s situation.

An Age came and went in the time it took the two Domani to arrive at her apartment.  The Blue Sisters who passed seemed amused that the two rivals were in each other’s company, their feud was no secret.   Estel imagined a group of them clustered outside the door, listening and expecting the next Domani hellcat scandal – but of course, these Aes Sedai were far too proper for such Novice antics; they’d simply use the One Power to overhear.

Estel stifled a sigh of relief upon opening the door to a relatively clean room.  A shift lay near the wardrobe where she’d left it that morning and her bed sheets were rumpled, easily taken care of by shutting the door to her bedroom as she passed it.  She directed Lavinya towards an armchair near glass doors that opened to the balcony, providing a view of the Tower Gardens.  Though lately Estel had been making an effort to keep her rooms at least moderately tidy, the view of manicured gardens usually seemed at odds with the room within.  An apartment overlooking the more natural Ogeir Grove would have seemed more appropriate, but the Blue was unlikely to be granted any favours after spending her career as a constant thorn the First Selector’s side.

While the Grey sat, Estel cleared various odds and ends off the low table nearby.  She dumped them unceremoniously on her desk before finally going to the cabinet to begin brewing tea – not that any Aes Sedai ever bothered to heat anything by natural means.  Unfortunately, the whistling of a kettle might have broken the silence, it was becoming oppressive.  There were only three topics Lavinya could possibly want to discuss with her: the Order, the Black Tower, or the pregnancy.  Estel chose the first to begin.  “You trust me to brew tea from my own store?  Considering you rarely detached yourself from Sirayn’s shadow I figured her paranoia would have rubbed off on you.” 

What was “with” the twins quickly became apparent.  Her fellow trainee hadn’t even gotten his name out before the brother stole the room’s attention.  Addison watched, alternating between sipping and choking on her ale, as the big man barrelled through the crowd and attacked the boy.  Apparently the big man was confused as to whom the singer “belonged” to – idiots, thinking a girl belonged to anybody.  The singer seemed rather upset that her “knight in shining armour” was about to toss the poor boy out a window.

Addi was so engrossed in the fight that she managed to forget how bad the ale tasted.  A flash of metal caught her breath in her throat; the sensible reaction would have been to draw her sword but she still wasn’t quite used to it yet.  However, it seemed as though this wasn’t the flirtatious stranger in a similar situation.  Before she realised what he was doing, the boy was standing bare-chested while Sir Can’t-Talk-Properly held his clothes.  This did nothing to help Sir Can’t-Talk-Properly’s temper.  The object of his wrath doubled over from the force of an undercut to his gut.

Finally her supposed “warrior instincts” kicked in.  While it would amuse her greatly if the womaniser got what was coming to him, Addi doubted the Yard would look favourably on a trainee that did nothing while a man was beat half to death in front of her.  Thankfully, Cairma had spent all day teaching her to draw and sheath her sword without accidently cutting herself.  Her arms still ached from the effort of yanking three pounds of steel out of the sheath on her back and as of yet, she still couldn’t hold the thing with only one hand – not steadily, anyway.

She drew her spatha using a technique Cairma had called Unfolding the Fan, Addison stepped between the angry man and wheezing boy.  Lacking any knowledge of what to do, she planted her feet and pointed the sword, two-handed, at the man’s chest.  To any of the trained soldiers in the tavern, the girl must have looked ridiculous.

In Bradon’s Hill, the men were always talking about the miners in the Mountains of Mist.  The tiny Andoran town was two day’s ride from Whitebridge which was the main crossing of the Manetherendrelle for any caravan on its way to Caemlyn from the mountains; it was also the destination of any farmer looking for a larger market to sell his surplus produce.  Thus, farmers were always returning with news about the mountains.  In her mind, Addison had pictured the monstrous icy peaks but had been unprepared for the hugeness of Dragonmount.  Her mental picture of a mountain chain had shifted but she was still stunned by the amount of mountains all together.  Her awe grew the closer they rode. 

Surely Thera didn’t mean for them to scale all the way to the top, especially not with gear that seemed so simple – not in use but in design.  The use of these bits of metal and rope...  Why were they tying themselves together to climb, wouldn’t that cause everyone else to fall as well?  Addi didn’t like the “if one dies, we all die” concept that was forming in her head and the Mistress of Trainees quickly disabused her of it.  The rest of the gear seemed simple enough to understand, after having it explained and shown to her a few more times.  She felt stupid considering everyone else seemed to grasp the concepts easily enough and so, tried to rationalise it as having had less education than anyone else in the group.

Unfortunately, Addi could come up with no excuse for her inability with the grappling hook.  After spending two hours flinging the thing at various trees, she was still only looping it over her intended target one time in ten.

A loud laugh barked across the Yard, earning a few stares – apparently she was loud.  “Have you got time now to go searching for lovely little Sandre’s present?” 

At Edana’s nod, Addison barely restrained the urge to skip with glee towards the seedier sections of Tar Valon; oddly these areas seemed much harder to find when one went looking for them as opposed to putting effort into staying away.  She eyed the decrepit buildings around her, suddenly doubting the wisdom of two women running unarmed around the slums.  They stood out like a Trainee in the Novice Quarters – Addi was trying out a number of White Tower oriented similes.  In any case, staying out of trouble didn’t seem to fit into the day’s agenda.

Conveniently, her busy day had passed quickly and the sun was beginning to set; it was far easier to find a whore in the dark than in daylight...  Addi blushed as she considered possible double entendres.  One by one, they crawled from their ramshackle homes.  Suggestively clad girls, some of whom looked younger than she, sported a barrage of colours that would please any Tinker, accessorised with hideously cheap jewellery.  A number of the dressed seemed to be poor imitations of Domani dresses or Sea Folk attire; any and everything exotic.  The farm girl couldn’t imagine what might drive these girls to so... debase a profession.

“So, who do you think looks like a promising candidate?”  Addison tried to ignore the disconcerting stares the pair was starting to receive from the ladies and other disreputable night-time labourers.

on the list for tonight

along with what was on the list for last night :P

There is nothing comfortable about falling asleep in one’s clothes, particularly when one has an ongoing feud with a roommate.  At least that was Addison’s rationale for long hours spent staring at shadows on the ceiling.  Surely it wasn’t the dreams she’d had the night before involving a very naked her and an incredibly amused Warders Yard.  Nor did she feel the least bit guilty imagining how her father must have handled his daughter running away without even saying goodbye.  It definitely wasn’t the fear that her first lesson with Cairma had been just a little embarrassing and a reminder as to how much she didn’t know about being a soldier.  And there was no way under the Light that she doubted her spur of the moment decision to become a Warder.

Therefore it had to be her uncomfortable mattress and Sandre’s fault.

Unfortunately, none of these excuses were likely to do her much good the next morning.  When one of the twins tried to wake her the next morning, she mumbled incoherently, rolled over in bed and buried her head under the pillow.  All she needed was just a few more minutes...

Except for the lack of sweat and flowing hair not held back by a bit of twine, she could have come straight from training.  Blouse tucked into breeches and spatha across her back, Addison managed to feel only marginally ridiculous as her heavy new boots made loud thump!ing noises as she plodded through the streets of Tar Valon.  Thus far, she still had not accomplished grace in boots.  Nor was she more than useless with the sword strapped proudly across her back.  Despite her unfamiliarity with the gear, Addi was preposterously proud of her status as a Tower Trainee and the bag of coins, the meagre earnings of her first week of employment, foolishly displayed at her waist – even the safest city in the world, unless you were a Whitecloak or criminal, had pickpockets.

She tried not to show nerves as she entered the tavern, praying to the Light no one realised this was her first time in such a place.  Her father had been adamant that the Rusty Scythe, back in Bradon’s Hill, was no place for any daughter of his.  Jon Thwait had never kept alcohol in his home, only drinking it for especially special occasions.  Thus it had come to be that Addison had never had more than a single cup of watered-down wine in a single sitting.

This probably should have set warning bells off in her head.  Unfortunately, it didn’t.

Ordering ale at the bar, she scanned the crowd for people she might recognise from the Yard and took her first sip.  Bloody hell!  People drank this stuff?  It tasted like... swallowing lamp oil, while it was burning!  Trying not to gag, Addi finally spotted one boy who looked familiar, sitting with a pair that might have been twins.  She did her best to swim through the crowd and managed to arrive at their table in the front after a great deal of tripping, bumping, elbowing, drink spilling, and possibly one or two hands not-so-unintentionally grazing where they should not have been.

However, it seemed her timing was no better than her ability to part a crowd.  The twins, it seemed, were hissing at each other with rather nervous looks towards a man near the door.  So, instead she approached the trainee.  “You’re from the Yard right,  I’m Addison.”  She stuck out one hand in greeting and automatically took a sip from her drink.  Blah!  Damnit, she’d forgotten it was that disgusting stuff they called ale.  “What’s with them?”  The words were barely discernible as she choked.

alrighty, I'll throw something up tonight or tomorrow then

:P that just means she may have to get inventive with her betting

and I'll leave it up to Tig then, doesn't matter to me either just wondering if you two wanted more to play off of

you two want me to throw Estel into your game or would you guys prefer to keep it just between the two of you?

WS 2 to 3 - complete 1 req

Weapons Selection and Care:

Reporting for... Duty? (9 posts COMPLETE)

Cairma helps her klutzy new trainee choose her first weapon.

kaPOW!

She was supposed to have more weapons?  Now that she thought about it, most of the Tower Guards practically bristled with knives and swords, spears, quivers of arrows – every and anything sharp and deadly.  Addi glanced once more around the armoury, overwhelmed by the sheer number of different weapons.  What would work well with her sword?  How the hell was her sword any different than any of the other swords anyway?  What in the Light had she been thinking yesterday?  She suddenly felt incredibly stupid for knowing absolutely nothing about her chosen profession.  Bloody self-doubt.  She just nodded Cairma’s question and was rewarded with the name of her sword: the spatha.

Cleaning her sword seemed easy enough; she’d done much the same with the metal bits of the workhorses’ harnesses.  As for sharpening it, well that was something of a different story.  For one, a sword was a great deal larger than a kitchen or hunting knife.  It was easy enough to keep a whetstone steady on the edge of a six inch blade, but along three feet of steel?  By the time her mentor was through with the lesson, Addi’s knuckles and fingers bled from half a dozen cuts and scrapes; yet she still couldn’t keep pace with Cairma’s, for each time Addi ran her stone over the edge of her sword, the woman had made three or four strokes – and her sword was far longer.

After suggesting Addison see the Yellows about her hands, her second trip to the infirmary in as many days, Cairma dismissed her.

The raising of a new Sister was supposed to be a joyous occasion whatever her Ajah, though especially if it was rumoured the new Aes Sedai was considering one’s own Ajah.  Despite the cool faces of the women in the room, it took only a marginal ability for discerning facial expressions to recognise the excitement in the room.  So few new girls made it to this room, this ceremony and fewer chose Blue.  The last Blue to be raised would have been... Aeveryn – or had Estel missed a few while out of the Tower these last few years?

Unlike the women around her, joy was not Estel’s predominant emotion.  Sure, she wondered what this girl’s future would be like.  Would she rise to Sitter, Ajah Head, Light bless them, even Amyrlin?  Mostly, though, she wondered if maybe this one might be a kindred spirit – another puppy for the Ajah to kick.  As Sareine draped a blue shawl around their newest sister’s shoulders, Estel was reminded of her own ceremony and being somewhat surprised by the lightness of the cloth despite its figurative yoke of responsibility.  It wasn’t until years later that the weight had begun to affect her.  Would this girl begin to resent that scrap of cloth once the sacrifices started to pile up?  Estel remembered ranting at a similarly young Aes Sedai about the changes about to happen in the woman’s life.  Would she look in the mirror ten years from now and no longer see the woman standing here today?

Estel tried to shake away the dark mood as the woman received her kisses from each of the Blue Sisters present.  The girl...  Bloody hell, what was her name?  Someone had mentioned it, Elyssa probably.  Jillian?  That wasn’t it but it started with a “J”... or a “G”...  Gina?  Gianna!  She remembered the name just in time to kiss each of the woman’s cheeks and whisper “Welcome home, Gianna, We have waited long for you.”

hey dude!  been awhile, welcome back.

assuming I get through enough of my other RPs to assuage my mild guilt, I'll throw Addi on this tonight.  She need some corrupting...

*sidles in, bottle of blue champagne in each hand*

welcome!

Never having had siblings, unless one counted Jake though one really shouldn’t since had Addi stayed in Braden’s Hill and married it would border on incest, she imagined having five Jakes around the farm being general nuisances.  If her parents had given birth to more children, maybe she wouldn’t have had to run away and, no doubt, cause her father much grief...  Damn, Cairma was talking and she wasn’t paying attention.

As the doors to the armoury opened, Addi’s eyes went wide.  Before coming to the Yard, she had never really seen a real weapon up close before, hunting bows and utility knives did not count despite being the weapon of choice for any local homicides.  Yet, here was a huge room filled with weapons of every shape, size, type.  Her eyes skimmed over walls hung with more different kinds of axes than she could count.  Addison tried to picture herself wielding one of them, most of which were bigger than she – even for her, the mental imagine was preposterous.  Remembering Cairma’s comment about whips, she avoided those; plus, if the Warder hit herself with a whip, Addi was sure to.  She also barely glances at the spears or clubs, meandering only briefly before making a beeline for the swords.  So shiny and sharp and...  Memo to self: Warders do not think of swords as toys.

Since her mentor had once wielded a six foot blade, Addison had already decides she should give it a try.  Unfortunately, Cairma had also spent the last... who knows how long training whereas Addi had absolutely no experience lifting heavy deadly weapons.  The sudden clang of metal hitting the stone floor and the squawk of a very alarmed adolescent girl, complete with adolescent girl volume and pitch, ruined an attempt at surreptitiousness.  Face as red as the blood she was lucky not to be shedding all over the ground, she quickly moved to much more manageable blades.

After much hefting, swinging, and stabbing motions, she finally decided on a three foot long spatha.  While still heavy and awkward, it fit into the visions she had of slicing open Trollocs and beating Sandre bloody.

Still a little sheepish, she returned the grin.  The woman didn’t look that old, though certainly an adult whereas Addison still felt mostly like a child.  She was beginning to become far more comfortable with her own background after being told by a few of the others here that their stories didn’t start out hugely fascinating.

Cairma jumped the fence easily.  Addison did so with a lot less grace and a lot more stumbling and tripping.  To be honest, she had a hundred questions for the woman but she doubted Cairma would want to answer all or even very many of them.  Unfortunately, tact had never been Addi’s greatest virtue.  “Umm... well, we have to learn to use a sword right?  Are we supposed to have more than that?  And, why did you become a Tower Guard?”

A wide grin split across her face as Cairma held a sword to the Tower Guard’s throat; Addi envisioned one day doing the same to stupid Sandre.  Oh the things she would do to that idiot once she was a Gaidar...  A voice broke her projection into the future.  She blushed and hastily when she realised it was Cairma.   Her pathetic imitation of a salute should have had the whole Yard laughing at her – though she’d have hit anyone that did.

“Yes, Mistress Vishnu.  I uh...”  For the thousandth time in two days, she fumbled with the ridiculous truth of why she was here.  The beginning of her legacy simply wasn’t... grand.  It was so very damn ordinary.  “I came here because I wanted to be something great!”  That was the best she had come up with so far.  Though the way the older woman kept watching prompted her to add, with much less bravado, “I didn’t want to be just a farmwife.”

Now with even less confidence “I haven't held a sword in my life, though I often hit our stableboy with a pitchfork when he was being stupid.”  As if that helped.

Face aglow, Addison practically skipped across Warders Yard like a girl at her first feast day.  Today was the day she would begin her monumental journey towards becoming one of the legendary Warders.  Having observed some of the other female trainees, Addi had been able to decide on a basic dress code: hair tied back, not-too-tight breeches, and a looser blouse.  This was all seemingly to allow freedom of movement.  She was sure to be the shining example of a perfect trainee.

Just don’t tell her Warders didn’t skip.

She had been told to find one Cairma Vishnu, apparently a Gaidar – Addison had learned this was the term for female Warders.  After some directions from curiously amused Tower Guards, she discovered that Mistress Vishnu was a blonde-haired woman beating the tar out of a male Tower Guard.  Addi couldn’t tear her eyes away from the spar.  She watched this woman with the grace of a deer parry every attempted attack by the poor Tower Guard.  The wide-eyed trainee couldn’t believe he luck at pulling this particular Warder for her trainer.

Plus she was very proud she now knew technical terms like spar and parry.

In any case, Cairma was instantly Addison hero and idol.

As his boots made squishing noises as the mud around him thickened, the seed of panic that had been present since the duel’s beginning flared.  Suddenly, Isha remembered Linten nearly burying him alive with a similar trick, only months ago.  He remembered flashing back to his torture by Aginor and freezing, unable to kill Linten but unable to save himself – sure he was about to be killed by the boy he called his son.

~Are you going to let him do this again?~

‘Obviously not.’

~So you’re going to kill him?~

‘Hardly, I know what he’s up to so I’m not going to panic.’

~How many times will he try to kill us before you decide to kill him?  How many more do you think we can survive?~

‘He is NOT trying to kill me.’

~You’re going to get us killed.~

Weaves of Fire and Air dried the squelching ground around him, drawing the moisture out so quickly that it cracked as if a patch of the Aiel Waste had escaped to the middle of Andor – mind you, last he had heard, there were still black-eyes in Caemlyn.  His sense of hearing enhanced by the Power, Isha heard the ground crack under him.  By the same token, he sensed Linten’s presence by the amount of saidin held by his mentee.

A few warning Fireballs flew towards the building, careful of causing damage.  It would be simple just to pull the building down on Linten, but Brent would have what was left of the giant’s head for it.  Instead, Isha used his minimal strength in Earth to cause a small Earthquake to disrupt any attempts to channel from his opponent, rather than charge him outright.  Let the boy come to him instead.

OOC: short, but I figure we can start trying to kill each other now ;)