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open The First Age: Murder in Moscow (ic)
Matalina posted a topic in WoT Role Play's Revolution One RP
The whole working in the light of day was always different for Nox. Being Atharim meant hiding in the shadows to keep the world safe. Now with his new appointment to Domovoi unit of the CCD PD Nox was working in the light of day. He didn't have a badge, but that didn't matter he worked with either Dorian, Ivan or Lih or one of the other guys in the unit. But usually it was Dorian - mostly because Dorian left him alone and didn't want to come with him. Ivan and Lih were still new to the whole lets go hunting monsters in the depths of the tunnel. But Dorian also insisted Nox do things top side. Stay current with the monsters above the ground too. So that's what Nox did. He was wandering the streets of Moscow like he used to do with Aria. They'd combed through the city and the tunnels the same way. Making maps with their land warriors and cataloging the world from the eyes of the Atharim. Possible nests, various other signs, checking out stories found in the news. And even monitoring the police chatter of call ins. Those were some of the best things to look through. The cops didn't understand what they were hearing but a trained Atharim knew the signs. And Nox knew what he was doing. Born and raised Atharim. Was going to die Atharim until he became a God and then decided killing gods wasn't his cup of tea and sided with them. Choices and all that. Today Nox was listening to the scanner on his wallet while walking the streets of Moscow. Nothing new was going on at least yet. But that was preferable. -
Thera gripped the table with both hands; her knuckles turning white from the strain. The attacks occurred less frequently now; but when the racing heart and tremors took over, it required every ounce of the training she’d received in the White Tower to remember to assume the void and keep herself from crashing to the floor. The Aes Sedai had healed her numerous times, but Thera knew it was more as a favor to the former Mistress of Trainee’s, than it was a necessity. Each time after her healing the attacks would subside for a few weeks, but they always returned. A Sister from the Brown Ajah had suggested that the issue was in Thera’s mind, or tied to an emotional trauma. The longer it lasted the more inclined she was becoming to believe the Sister. It had been proved to her time and time again that her body was still as strong and healthy as it had been when she was a girl. Slowly her pulse returned to normal and the world came back into focus. Looking up, Thera smiled as she saw Lyss come into view. Her daughter was why she still fought, why she did not flee Tar Valon and start over. In the years since she had adopted Lyss her life had completely changed. Her husband had fled after finding out about her affair with Serena. Her beautiful raven haired former bonded had proven too tempting for Thera, and for a time they had become lost in each other. Serena was away from the tower, and Thera’s heart was with her. Each day felt like an eternity and her heart ached for the bond, if only to hold a piece of Serena with her always. In her younger days she may have asked Serena to bonder her again, custom be damned... but alas she was older now and, in some ways, wiser. Holding out her arms Thera leaned in and smelled Lyss’ head as the little girl crawled into her arms. Lyss could always bring Thera back to reality. “It is almost times for your lessons my little warrior, and it is time for mommy to stop lazing the day away”. Just because she was no longer a Gaidin, and no longer the Mistress of Trainees did not mean she had no responsibilities. Sending Lyss along to her lessons Thera ordered lunch and tried to stop worrying about when the next attack would come.
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Ooc ok let's get some partying on, been way too long since last. Liitha shook the dust of her cape, she looked forward to being inside, she hoped the wind of the mountain would soon turn and take the smell away. She had spent the afternoon helping out patrolling, and by now normally would be heading back to the Brown quarters, but not tonight, Cara was busy with her books. Liitha wasn't sure what it was she was investigating and with the mood she was in she was not about to ask. She knew to stay away when she was in this mood, so she was heading for the nearest inn to get an ale, and see if there was some better company to find. She folded the cape up over her arm as she headed in to one with jolly music going on, seemed just what she was in the mood for tonight. After getting an ale and ordering some stew she headed over to a table in the middle to sit down and wait to see who else would be wandering in after a tiresome shift.
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Jack tilted his head looking at the overgrown fox, "So what we up too today, cutie?" He took a swig of his last bottle of brandy. "Need to find some humans, no?" his voice was growing a slur as he looked at the bottle. He needed more. But he was also hungry. "Food firrrst dont youh thrink?" he stumbled to his feet and took two steps against the treeline, then fell on his ass in the middle of the small opening they had rested in. She got onto her feet walking over and jumped on his chest, sending the image of him sleeping, followed by her hunting. That odd rumbling sound came out of his throat again, and she jumped back from the smell of the shiny brown but nasty smelling stuff as he opened it and took another sip, then she turned and was off. He hicked and sipped the bottle. The fox would bring food. It was cold but he didn't feel like restarting the fire. Besides, the brandy would warm him. He didn't know where the images came from, but he had started understanding them somewhat, the voices in his head he called it. As of late it had been of a place where his kind and wolves walked side by side. He would look into the fox's eyes and daydream like that. Maybe she understood some of it, he wasn't sure. At any rate, it was amusing and he found himself giggling in between the hiccups.
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open The First Age: Murder in Moscow (ooc)
Matalina posted a topic in WoT Role Play's Revolution One RP
I ran one of these a couple years back. This is not my idea for a world, but I actively play in the original. With permission from the RP staff and The First Age I'm going try to run one a scenario here. This first post is just some back story so you can get an idea of what type of character you can jump in on (no bios needed). The time is Spring 2046 in Moscow, DI, formerly part of Russia. The Ascendancy has united most of the world under the CCD (I forget what it stands for - forgive me). The world language is mostly English, but native areas still speak their own tongue but it's mostly used in private. Channelers have only recently been reborn into the world after the Atharim eradicated them during the God Wars. The Ascendancy has just revealed to the world through a televised broadcast of reforming the Mausoleum in the Red Square into a giant arch using the One Power. Very little is known about Channeling. They know that it is linked with "The Sickness" and if you survive you are typically blocked. In Wheel of Time Dragon Reborn Age terms there only wilders. During the God wars the Gods (channelers) created items of war, monsters that exist now are what is left of these creations. Our mythical creatures of modern pop culture are based on these, but there are no vampires or werewolves or even ghosts as you know them. But there are creatures that suck or lick blood from their victims, the wolfkin survived the changes in the world, and wefuke have been known to possess people and do horrible things. The Atharim hunt these creatures down and keep humanity safe, while they wait for the return of the Gods and try to protect the world from them to prevent what happened before. I am going to be pulling my various characters in to tell this story. But you are free to jump in and make events go awry or join the hunt for whatever or whoever did the deed. This is a modern age, slightly futuristic world your characters can be channelers, one of the police, a prophet, a wolfkin, atharim, sentient, furia, or any of the other playable classes in the First Age. If you have questions feel free to ask. -
Following this: **** Aiden had gone to the Master at Arms following the ironic situation of the fight with Giles. He was an idiot. He had no proof. And his mother was a well known Warder, his father too. Bloody people think he could be a darkfriend? It didn't matter that it was true, but not in anything other than word of mouth. The Dark Lord hadn't called him specifically to do anything yet. Though there was always that possibility. But he was a nothing, son of a darkfriend. No one even knew his mother was bad. Very few had found out who she was when she was here last. That was so long ago. She'd been dead most of his life now. And it was sad. He and the Master at Arms went to Mistress Loari in the forge and the daggers were presented. She had looked at them fondly saying I remember them. She looked at me and laughed. His belongings were given back to him pending a formal investigation, but so far his words spoke the truth. Aiden didn't know what would happen next but it didn't matter. It was back to business as usual until then. Aiden was sure people had heard all about it by now, and he wasn't looking forward to explaining himself over and over again. It sucked Tayln had gotten caught, he'd never really met Taylor's brother, but the idiot had gotten caught. So stupid!
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OOC: Heh, couldn't resist the Dark Tower reference in the title 'Childe Roland to the Dark Tower come'. Open to any Band people, particularly if s/he wants to train Tris. The new girl smiled, checked her reflection in the looking glass, straightened her tunic, and headed for her lesson. Just remember Tristram, for the moment, you’re a boy, she reminded her flat-chested mirrored self as she stopped and looked back at the empty room. “Off I go then.” The mirror Tris seemed a good looking boy, with the dark hair and pale skin of her parents. She’d only been with the Band for a few nights, was on probation still, and she hadn’t yet revealed her real self to anybody except the medic who brought her in, and ‘grandpa’ Burgandy, and that was by accident. Well, Tris mused, both of them obviously got bigger problems than Tris on their heavy shoulders. She felt sorry for the medic Jehryn — he seemed in a particularly foul mood and she took care to keep her distance from the bandaged-up man. She left her room, and walked to the far end of the street past a sour looking officer, and then on a windy corner, checked the directions that’d been written on a scrap of paper. Right at this corner, past the rowdy tavern, and up the steps into the main area of the Citadel. She was amused to see training sessions were already in progress all around her, complete with attentive students of every age and description. Training was all very new to her. She had to try her best not to screw it up. There were many nice-looking men and women who seemed honest and good hearted, but Tris couldn’t trust them right now. But she wouldn’t run away again, not until she found her mother. At times, Tris despaired of ever finding the bloody woman outside of dreams . . . There was no point in thinking like that. She’d come too far to turn back. Tris Landorin
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Ful Haert jogged up the curve of the parched field to join the men at the traveling grounds. There was a general bustle of activity coming from the neighboring hill where gateways were practiced or set up for use: the distant clatter of weapons and armor, conversations, a very occasional “bang!” Ful, the young dedicated assigned to procure supplies out in the city, saluted the senior members as he approached the group of onlookers. He looked down at his fellow dedicated in the field, the asha’aman standing over them at the far edge of the field, watching them diligently. “What’s he doing?” he shot a sour look in the direction of the newly withered field trench, still exhaling smoke into the glassy sky. “Don’t ask,” replied one of the soldiers. Ful glanced politely at the soldier, who made a respectful nod. Then he yawned. “Tired?” Ful asked. “You should take some rest while you can." The other shrugged. “I sleep. But then the dreams come." “Yea,” Ful nodded. The man didn’t seem particularly bothered about his dreams. But dreams were things Ful simply couldn’t deal with, didn’t understand the strangeness. He wasn’t ready for them. “The dreams here will get you. Keep trying. Sleep will come. So . . . what is he doing?” “Not entirely sure. But that trench used to be overgrown. When I asked, he just said, practice - and we left it at that." “I’ve come to buy supplies from Caemlyn. Is there a gateway set up for use?” Ful had no talent for gateways. He couldn’t even learn the weave. As such he needed somebody with the talent to help him get to Caemlyn. The man shrugged again. “You have to to take it up with them.” Ful slid down the dusty bank into the smoked-choked ditch. It was part of an old field system, a natural divider, but the neglect and abuse these students had imposed upon the trench had allowed the land to run wild, and now it withered. He picked his way over to a familiar face among the field of dedicated. “Ready to go, Merdyn?” he asked with a smile. They’ve all got work waiting for them. His supply run was for Merdyn’s precious volunteer soup kitchen, so Ful doubted Merdyn would miss a chance to replenish stock.
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It was early in the morning, the sun was barely up when Nox had groaned the first time. Adrim shifted in the chair he'd fallen asleep in. His body ached. He'd had the boys take Nox to his house. Nox would be more comfortable in his own house. He'd freak out less when he finally woke up. But Adrim wasn't about to let the boy be alone after nearly dying. There were already rumors. What was another? "Why didn't you sleep here?" Nox asked waking Adrim from his drowsy slumber. He blinked at the other man who was trying to sit up. "I didn't think it was appropriate." Nox gave Adrim a shy smile. "People already think you and I are sleeping together." Adrim blushed. "I'd rather not fuel any truth to it." Nox shrugged. "Are the soldiers and the boy alright?" Adrim got up and filled the wash basin from the water pitcher and warmed with a thread of fire. He splashed his face while he felt the burn of Nox's eyes on his back. "Perfectly fine. I'm going to wash up and head to the medic tent where they will meet me. I took the boy home. His parents were worried sick about him, apparently it's not the first time he's wandered from home." Nox nodded. "I'm glad he's not homeless." Adrim smiled. Nox always had a soft spot for the kids less fortunate. He was always empty giving up his last bit of coin to feed them when he saw them thieving to make ends meet. Adrim knew it was a hard life for him, and he continued to make it hard now. He sighed and walked over to Nox and pressed him back down into bed as he sat down next to him. "I better not find you out of bed until this evening when I come back." Adrim pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You rest." Nox sighed. "Fine." Relieved the younger man would obey he got up and walked out of the one room abode. Nox lived even more meagerly than most on the Farm. **** The medic tent was still occupied by the sick boy, Adrim relieved the night watch and checked on the patient, his fever seemed to have broken. It was a good sign. He'd pull through and then they'd begin his training immediately. Until then he'd stay here. Adrim waited for his two students to show themselves. The later they were the less they were going to see today. He smiled and wondered if the older one would be late for him. He'd soon find Nox was too easy on him.
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Aiden missed the country. He always said that whenever he took students out for Survival training. His mother had taught him how to survive in the woods, and in a city for that matter. It had been an interesting experience, especially as Aiden got older and his mother left him for longer and longer periods of time. This was some of the best parts of teaching trainees. Outside of the barracks Aiden waited for his classic class. They had been instructed to get up and bring their gear for a few days out in the woods. It was their job to bring whatever they could carry that would be useful on the trip. Aiden had set aside a day's hike from the city, and three days out there with a lot of hiking in between, and then depending on the aptitude of the trainees he'd see about letting them find their way home. But some weren't exactly brains, so Aiden wasn't sure that would happen this go around. One could only hope. Aiden himself brought his bedroll, a tarp for cover, but no tent. He enjoyed the outside and he knew how to take cover if necessary in the forest to stay the driest. Though he prayed it didn't rain. It was unlikely, but it could happen. He also brought a long hemp rope and stakes for climbing rock faces if necessary. There was enough rations in his pack for six days and a water canteen. He packed his herb supply kit and bandages just in case. His weapons were with him as was a nice warm cloak. Aiden also brought a secondary pack with supplies he'd need for the lessons he was going to teach. It was early. Aiden waited for his group of trainees, it would be a good trip. [[ Early Rise, List your gear you THINK you might need on the trip, keep in mind you have to carry it all, no horses allowed. ]]
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At his day’s end, Ful sniffed out the tavern where Merdyn would be found. This was it. He stopped and looked at the tavern. Built into the basement level of a shabby building, there was a steep set of steps running down from street level to the scratched, nondescript door. The tavern looked closed but he could clearly hear the noises from within. Though it was still early, the place was already dismal and littered with loud men and broken furniture. Some black tower men drank their nights away, boasting and carousing. Workers were sweeping up debris of smashed glasses - already filled two sacks. The owner was furiously scrubbing his walls with a brush dipped in soap, trying to get rid of the obscenities plastered on the crumbling structure. Ful caught sight of a particularly striking dedicated within the graffitied walls. It was Merdyn. Ful smiled. He moved over to his friend. He had always liked Merdyn’s smile. “Choice place for teaching me manners,” he whispered mockingly in Merdyn’s ear as he eagerly clasped the other’s hand to shake it. Greetings aside, Ful and Merdyn took seats on a high bench beside the bar. “What will you have?” asked the bar owner. He had carefully set down his bristle-brush and faced them. The recent stitching around his blood-shot eyes made his glare even angrier than usual. “Please give us a moment." Ful advised him. He turned to Merdyn, still smiling outwardly at the dingy scene before him. “Well, what do you like to drink?"
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Aiden had been writing Taylor on and off since he left the Ranch. They had been close. He had a crush on Kate, but Kate was oblivious. Kate was going to be Aes Sedai so he had moved on. Gotten married and was starting his own family. He had number 3 on the way. Taylor wanted a big family. But then to run a Ranch it was kinda a prerequisite. His father had liked men, so their family was small. But it didn't matter, they had cousins working the Ranch too. Taylor was excited that Aiden had made Tower Guard. He always wanted to be a swordsman but he wasn't very good at it, despite the same training as him. But that was alright, Taylor had a brain and he was using it for both the Great Lord's advantage and making the Ranch prosper specially after the Children came, and the bubble of evil. It had been a hard few years back then. It was a lifetime ago Aiden wrote: Taylor, I'm so excited that Merth is having another child. Maybe one day I'll make it back up that way and I can meet your little brood. Cel sounds like a handful, and Tria even more so, I can't imagine what this one will be like. Maybe on your next trip south to buy horses you can stop by Tar Valon, and I'll take you out and we can get a drink. We've never done that before - stealing them from the kitchen don't count. I have some pretty great trainees this season. One who is absolutely green and another who has her head in the game. Thankfully they seem to hit it off and the others follow in their wake. I think my mother would be proud that I've come this far. That I've done as well as she did. I wish she could see me now. Dad too, I hope he is doing well up there all by himself. He always was a loner. It was no wonder he and Mom had been friends. Take a care and kiss the family for me. Aiden al'Ker Aiden folder the letter and put his seal on it with wax so Taylor knew it was from him. It was just a simple pair of crossed swords his mother had used for ages. Aiden dropped it off in the mailroom and went to find his trainees he was sure they weren't working hard. He grinned at the possibility.
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Having breakfasted on mashed eggs with tough, toasted pieces of baked bread, Ful smiled appreciatively at his start of day. This morning, he knew he was being tested. This was responsibility and he better not mess it up. It was his moment to prove to his newly assigned mentor Nox that he had the makings of greatness. Ful was an intense, quiet young man; his dearest ambition was to become an asha’aman since months ago when he first enrolled. Attack leader, a veritable giant in stature and rank Baijan’m'hael Isha Talcontar had personally selected Ful to join his household as his student, and in the first few months had become almost a father to Ful. A stern, crazy father, perhaps. Quick, long strides took Ful from Isha’s house, past the wooden-gated courtyard where the wind moaned and into pathway toward the Farm. Isha’s house stood a mile to the Farm, directly between battlefield and ‘town’. Newly rebuilt after its destruction in the battle with Aginor, the fortified structure had been fully occupied when Ful first came. With Isha came Dedicated Linten, ruthless and calm blonde, the two women who lived with them -Eqwina and Faile, bonded aes sedai. It had been a big house back then, made even bigger now that it stood empty except Ful’s room. Ful pursed his lips. He felt pain for thinking about people he couldn’t meet anymore . . . it was almost unbearable. Time to put the past behind him. The dark capes of the night sentries, the distinctive dark uniforms of their order, were lank and stiff with dried mud. The men turned bleary, puffy eyed gaze at Ful dressed in his white singlet and black leggings, faces slack into recognition and waved him through, wearily waiting on their replacements at the picket. Somebody sighed perceptibly when Ful crooked a wry grin at the tired guards, patting his daggers as he passed. Not for the first time, Ful felt like sighing himself. He should re-focus on advancing his training. Since Isha had gone, Ful had been paired with a new teacher he was to meet at the hilltop. Which meant all his previous work with Isha was wasted in terms of his career here. There was no set duration to the training of an asha’aman. After education in Saidin and basic weapons training, a soldier received the rest of his training in the field, and promotion to dedicated, then full silver pin and black coat level was a judgment matter for the commanding officer, who served as mentor to several soldiers. Of the asha’aman’s various duties, the main job was to disperse discipline and inspiration, adding to their ranks with those who deserved it. Ful reached the hilltop and caught sight of Nox. Tall, pale, lean and powerful, the asha’aman had intimidated others. Unless madness or death claimed him first, Ful felt Nox would one day become an attack leader in his own right. Until then, he tutored new soldiers with endless enthusiasm. From what Ful heard about Nox, whose reputation had preceded him - Nox could be trusted to be fair. After all, Nox's students were known to have rose to full rank quickly. “Sir?” Ful’s voice was a sudden intruder into the gentle calm. He continued, his heart in his throat. “My name is Ful Haert. Reporting for training." Ful Haert Soldier
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Ful took directions from the Dedicated directing traffic at the road junction, and left the main thoroughfare by a flight of steps that led him down onto a walled path by the creek. The deep green creek surged through a deep, man-made channel. He made his way to an archway overlooking the make-shift canal further along the wall. It was one of two side entrances to one of the farm’s kitchens and tired, hungry looking locals hung around the entrance. Soldiers and civilians alike were fed here, side by side. Earlier on, this soup kitchen had been started by one of the more sympathetic asha’aman who could not bare to see the misery of civilians and hanger-ons that populated the surrounding countryside. He converted his house on the farm into a charity with an irrigated garden in the back. Ful adjusted his satchel of herbs and berries he foraged from the woods this morning. “Uhm, I have some fresh ingredients - where should I take this?” He asked, striding into the sun-lit space and finding some men scrubbing the tables and setting out clean bowls. “In the back there,” came the reply from one of the harried looking volunteers. People were coming into the long, arched eating hall all the time, mostly locals who needed a meal, and it was hard to keep track of faces and names. Ful Haert ~ another pair of hands
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In the blue dimness of night, Ashley ran in the unfamiliar grounds. Even familiar shops and greenery looked different; blurs. He ran. And ran and ran, until the pain caught up and made him stop running. Wah, this isn't far “Hah . . . hah . . .” He panted; lungs tightened in need of air. His stomach hurt. He clenched over, panting “Hah, I . . . really . . . am not in shape.” Every day he had been sitting in the wagons, not exercising enough. There was no strength in his body due to years of being sedentary. It wasn’t something he considered when he arrived at this city, determined to change himself into somebody strong. Now this was a problem in his bitter reality. He didn’t have strength to keep up with the group training. So he was told to train more and catch up. Light knows how he got accepted as a recruit here. But he wanted to be strong. The strength to protect others. To do this he had to strengthen his body. To turn his whole being into a weapon. His slow progress was infuriating. What was the point of abandoning the Way of the Leaf when he didn’t even get to pick out weapons like the others? His weak performance was a source of Ashley’s worries . . . when would he go to the armory and learn to fight? Too exhausted to run, Ashley walked back to the dorms - feeling dissatisfied. Anxious. Fleeting thoughts, one chasing after the other, ran through his mind for some time. "Ow, Ow!" The next morning Ashley woke up to bright sunlight, alone. He sat up, stretching the muscles that ached in the warmth; after his groans, how nice and quiet it was. Then he looked around unbelievingly. What was the time? His roommates were gone already. To group exercise. Ashley’s heart shook. It also showed on his face. His expression was fearful. Terror. Definitely, something terrible awaited him. He got changed out of his pajamas into the simple uniform, trying to be calm. The more panic, the slower the buttons. After this Ashley started to run to the yard, despite the burning of his sore muscles, twisted stomach. "Hah . . ." why didn’t anybody wake him? How come more problems are piling on top of the other? Ashley Wilkes Trainee Ooc: Assuming Aiden is the instructor here. Ashley is short, has dark eyes, dark hair. WS 1 really weak Could be group exercise doing just warm ups, could go to the armory to pick out weapons, basic forms, the void or spring, wherever you want to take this Aiden :)
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Ooc: anybody can feel free to join in. Just two white sisters walking around Tower looking at artwork, talking In the end, nothing was explained about the disappearance of Lillian Tremina, how she returned, or about the time she was kidnapped. She didn’t need to tell her sisters these things. Not when there were more pressing matters cropping up by the day. The Tower was the same, but the feel different. More urgency. Imperceptible faces seeming troubled, somehow. Of course they made changes - new rules - while she was away. Yes, the Wheel wove as it willed. If only she understood that Weaving better. Lillian secretly wished for better days when she spent her youth immersed in research, isolated from affairs. The more she travelled, the more questions she had of the world, of her place in it. In one lower hallway in the eastern wing, she came upon another weaving, a tapestry that especially arrested her interest. It celebrated a feast in that golden age before the breaking - the age of legends when there was peace and no disease. When channelers were many and drew on their power for mundane use, not in defense against one another. When channelers didn’t train to kill others. A discomforting thought . . . In the Tower was a treasure trove of art from all over, some escaped Lillian’s comprehension. The art was elegantly displayed in lit alcoves in many iterations all over passageways. Sculptures, busts, paintings, woodcuts, scenes of unnamed landscapes, ancient maps and even studies of wildlife, animals cut open and splayed in cross sections. She understood some of it. There was a flowing dialogue between art and science, and between science and their culture at large. It was not normal to consider art analytically, reductionistic to do so; however, each of these artists honed a distinct way of expression of the unconscious, of the instinctive, brought insight, patterns, added richness and complexity to the viewer’s feelings. After some moment, she stooped down to peer at a portrait of a noblewoman and her family. Their faces worn, a rich patina covered once vibrant detail. What were their underlying feelings, bred to the game of houses; did they appreciate their privileges? At this thought Lillian rose and turned, brushing at her wide silver trousers. A petite White sister stood nearby, watching her. Lillian knew the woman, in libraries mostly, by her blue eyes, striking against her dark skin, by name and sight only. Smiling, Lillian said “Astradore, good to see you.” Lillian Tremina Aes Sedai of the White Tower
