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Everything posted by Myyrth

  1. Myyrth watched. In the way of all Myrdraal he seemed preternaturally still, as though no effort by man or nature could touch him, as though he wasn’t really there at all. Tall and black with the white crown of his head turned at a slight angle towards the window he studied the trees and the movement of the Trollocs as they lurked quietly about the camp. His lips were a thin line which never wavered, the smooth flesh where the eyes of a human man would be facing turned ever so slightly at the sudden buzzing movement of a fly. He watched it for a time as it flitted about the warped glass of the
  2. As the land swept north away from Tar Valon and the open fields that surrounded it like a rolling sea gave way to sparse groves of trees and then to a deep and heavily wooded forest. Here the small villages and hamlets that dotted the land were divided by dark roads overshadowed on all sides by looming branches. Unknown to men, in the deep and secluded reaches of the forest, shadowspawn lurked. More Trollocs than even the most canny of borderland woodsman suspected lived and hunted south of the blight. These feral tribes were far removed from the influence of Shayol Ghul. It had been long si
  3. The blight border was quiet normally, few natural creatures which buzzed and hooted in the night moved there. Quiet save for the repetitive knocking of what sounded like a wood pecker, though no such bird lived in that forsaken land. Under a tree at the edge of a forest a pale skinned man stood hacking the knife into the bark of a sickly looking conifer. A tall and lean figure he struck, swathed in a black cloak, girded in black maile. Yet this was not remarkable in itself. What was remarkable was that instead of eyes there was smooth white skin. The Myrddraal stopped a moment, examining
  4. Control... control... he WAS in control. Who was this man, he didn't know him. Where was.... Sender reigned himself in. He didn't know what was coming over him. His thoughts seemed volatile, like the rising and falling of a storm wracked sea. This man, Fanten, was speaking. He stared at the mans mouth, watching it move, the flapping of his lips seemed disconnected from the words which floated past Sender's ears. "I am almost twice your age. I am fair, but you must understand... I have been tasked with training you in the sword, but it is only a preparation for training as a weapo
  5. Filk had waited for the last thirty minutes, schooling himself in every manner of discipline he knew. The last week had been a long harsh lesson in the ways of his new life. He woke up early with the rest of the boys in his barracks, as the most junior of the Soldiers many menial tasks fell to him. It was galling, considering the age difference between him and some of the others that he should have to carry buckets of water and wash floors while much younger boys could sit and train or study at their leisure. Most of the lads told him it got easier as your mastery of Saidin improved, then
  6. Sender sat in the infirmary ward of the barracks looking at the scars on his hands. Half a smile was splayed across his face and his eyes were far away. It was amazing, his fingers ached but they still worked. He remembered how charred they had looked before he had slipped into uncounciousness. At the time his euphoria had been too great for concern, but his nightmares while uncouncious had been horrible. His hands had been charred stumps. Blood was seeping from the ruined but cauterized limbs and he sat at the bottom of a shallow crater covered in black tar. He remembered tearing hi
  7. Sender tears ran dry as he watched Sereth intensely. He had not yet seen such a spetacular display of force. He was stunned into a moment of intense clarity. This power wasn't some magicians trick; these men were not pretenders in some farcical and overproduced theatre show. These men were Channelers, like the witches of the White Tower. He had seen them before, the Aes Sedai, with their burly and rude Warders. They commanded men like they were sheep. He remembered his father had been forced to part with a dozen silk rolls of cloth at a fraction of their worth. He remembered sitting
  8. He listened to Sereth. He held himself tight. He closed tight the doors to his mind and shut every bit of fear and self-doubt inside it. Then he tried. He imagined a candle flame flickering. Looking at the table he imagined that it was sitting there in front of him. It had a wick that was black like his coat and it rested in a silver candelabra like the nice ones his mother saved for special occasions. It sat there on the table and he tried to feed the roiling terror which coiled inside the shuttered windows of his mind. There was... nothing. They sat in silence for a minute or mor
  9. Sender's apprehension had grown once the great gates had closed behind him. It was an apprehension born of fear and ignorance but for him it was plain and simple fear. Fear which, by the next day, had become terror. Still he kept his face clear and his hands steady as he walked to the trianing ground. Perhaps the only thing that had kept him from trying to climb the walls of the Farm the previous night was his hope that it would Sereth who led his training in the following days. The eyes of the men in the Farm were not always filled with the kind and welcoming intensity that he had grown
  10. Sender Filk was not sure what he expected to see when they reached their destination. In his mind he envisioned a great black fortress breaking free of the surrounding forest to peirce the sky like some massive obsidian dagger. So it was a surprise when he found out that the Black Tower was less a tower and more a sprawling military camp. A great stone wall was beginning to be erected around the perimeter of the camp and the foundations of other buildings could be seen. Someday perhaps this place would be one of exceptional magnificence. For the moment, the most exceptional thing about th
  11. It had taken Sender the whole morning after the event to work up the courage to take the horse. It wasn't his families only horse, his father was rich after all, but his old man was not one to trifle with when it came to his property. He probably wouldn't have gone at all if his father hadn't left for the market on urgent business. Even then, if his mother had caught him and asked him to do chores or his aunt stopped by asking for help lifting crates he would have chickened out. The day aligned perfectly to leave him alone with his thoughts. So it was easy for him to avoid his brothers a
  12. I noticed as soon as it was posted. I pm'd to see if I could repost it myself so I could edit it. Normally I take more time in revising and I rushed it this time
  13. The threshold to the ancient stone fortress was pitch black, no light escaped the massive stone gate. To Myyrth's eyeless sight the darkness seemed to possess depth, as though the gate was more a portal into some ancient and empty void. A space completely absent of light from it's very beginning in creation. The creeping darkness of the doorway drew at some deep part of every Myrddraal's being. Soulless though he was Myyrth felt something call out to that darkness from within his chest. Twin voids circling each other. Tearing his sight away from the gate he looked up towards the pinnac
  14. The heat of the sun blistered over the valley of Thakan'dar. Stretched out under it's oppressive gaze the blistered bodies of a thousand men and woman stumbled slowly towards a collection of low sun baked stone structures. These buildings were scattered around the valley, positioned next to murky streams as black as tar. Greasy smoke billowed up into the air from these structures and deposited ash in a steady trickle on the sweating backs of those forlorn walkers. Pacing alongside these lost souls the trollocs loomed, snarling and whipping at their charges, moving them inexorable towards t
  15. Awakening This Follows the Blood on the Leaves RP. The battle was over. Another bloody massacre ending in defeat. Always the humans fell back on their only saviors in their weakness. Always they turned to the Aes Sedai. Myyrth’s thin lipless mouth turned down in an expression of vehement disgust. Even now he could feel the itch of the one power crawling along his spine. It filled him with a white hot rage. He wanted nothing more than to pick up a sword and start killing. He would find every Aes Sedai that walked this light forsaken world and put them to the sword. No, that would
  16. The seething mass of bestial creatures was held at bay by a ring of steel and stoic courage. Horned trolloc brayed with stymied bloodlust as battle lines were formed. What had just a moment ago been a rout had turned with such swiftness that the forces of shadow were left reeling and off guard. The intercession of the Aes Sedai had turned the tide. The fearsome spawn of the dark one gnashed their teeth and smashed their wicked curved blades against rough hide shields. They formed a rolling sea of dark inhumane shapes against the night sky. Their steaming breath rising in plums as they we
  17. The battle had started with a sudden fury that took Myyrth by surprise. Months spent in solitary training and small group exercises suddenly exploded into open combat. They had reached the cusp of a hill, beneath them a haggard band of borderlanders far from where anyone had expected them to be lay camping in the small valley. Without even a word or moments hesitation the whips of the Myrddraal cracked down among their monstrous servants and with bellows of blood-lust and fury the three hundred Trollocs charge down the hill in long loping strides. Among them and around them came the shadow
  18. The fade reined in his black steed, his cowled head searching the horizon. The strange sense that all Myrddraal possessed was telling him that somewhere nearby a channeler had embraced the source. His smooth eyeless face turned and faced the distant woman astride her horse. His hands gripped the leather reins tightly and he glanced back down at the trail that snaked away into the gloomy afternoon. The sun was falling towards the horizon, soon it would be night. The time of creeping shadows. The trail that he had been following continued on west for a ways, the scout had moved on as e
  19. These humans and their pretensions, it never ceased to amaze Myyrth the lengths to which they would go to maintain a lie. Even if the only ones they were lying to were themselves. They are committed to their own destruction, I at least know that I am a slave. Perhaps they think that their oaths are empty, that they might drop them at their pleasure. Short sighted creatures. Others of his kind moved through the gathered men and women, true servants of the shadow. For a myrddraal, serving the Great Lord was a calling they were born to. Like the Great Lord they served, some part of each o
  20. “Wake up.” Brand threw a rock at Tanith. “Huh?” Tanith’s eyes snap open; he looked around as though expecting arrows to spring out of the trees at him at any moment. “What?” “I said wake up.” Scowling Brand breathed warmth into his hands, “Bloody ashes boy, you know what a forward scout is?” Stamping his feet he glares at the forest, rubbing grimy fingers through a rough salt and pepper beard he kicks the young man. “On your feet.” “Oh give it up; we’ve been out here for hours.” He stood up, shivering in the brisk air. “I bet they’ll start cooking the evening mess soon.” H
  21. Over the Mountains of Dhoom a high wind howled down out of the north. As it went it kissed the sharp mountain peaks racing down towards the southlands. It crossed the blighted lands of the north, the sickly sweetness of decay clinging to its speeding currents. As it entered into the northern kingdoms it grew colder, the unnatural heat of the Blight leeching out. These were human lands, and within these lands an enemy stalked. A raiding party of shadowspawn marched, the northern wind tugging at them urging them onwards. Down into Saldaea they marched looking for blood. The foul Trollocs
  22. Yeah he made this grand speech before all the Aes Sedai, advocating that they join with the Great Lord. He was then cast out or some such thing.
  23. Part of me still wishes that Rand had humbled the Seanchan some using the Choeden Kal. You know.. torch a few palaces, annihilate a few standing armies, put the fear of the Dragon in them as they say.
  24. God I love forum hostility! :-* Anywho. At least with Aginor healing himself, is not perhaps possible that due to the fact that the source of Saidin isn't coming from within but rather coming from an outside source one would be able to heal oneself with it. For example perhaps utilizing the Eye one could fly, or do all sort of stuff typically forbidden when one is channeling personally. The Eye seems to serve as a remote access for this source of pure Saidin, it therefore seems plausible to me that one could heal oneself with the power drawn from it as it is not arising from withi
  25. TILL ALL ARE ONE! anyone ever think that the old cartoon Transformers had a sort of creepy overmind sort of thing going on behind the scenes? Perhaps they were just biding their time before the eventual robotic takeover of humanity. Most definitely my favorite fight scene's involved Lan vs Myrddraal or Thom vs Myrddraal early on in the books. It's sad you see so few shadowspawn in these latter books.
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