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Post by Eshara Aravell on Mar 9, 2019 8:12:08 GMT
The Wheel of Time turns The Ages come and pass What was, what is, and what will be May yet fall under the ShadowEarly Spring, 112 FA Late Morning Alirycas, Mountains of Dhoom, Saldaea The Wheel of Time turns, and the ages come and pass, leaving memories that fade into legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave birth to it comes again. In one age, called the Fourth Age by some, a wind rose above the peaks of the mountain once known as Shayol Ghul. The wind was not the beginning, for there are neither beginnings nor ends to the Wheel of Time. Full of bitter cold, the wind howled down the slopes of what had once been a prison, made by foolish men, now Sealed beyond opening until a new Turning of the Wheel. Westwards it blew, over a renewed Blight, skirting the northern edges off the Mountains of Dhoom, traversing a path parallel to the Borderlands that had renewed their ancient oaths to guard against the Shadow. The chill of the wind threatened to freeze any living creature caught in its grasp, yet held no sway over the heat that emanated from the corrupted lands that lay below. Warm air rose into the cold, and a fog billowed out, carried westwards with alarming speed, blanketing the Blight in shades of Grey. For hours it blew, carried towards the Aryth Ocean, until it swept past a city illuminated by fire and lightning. Alarm bells resounded throughout Alirycas, shaking the snow off the roofs as Eshara hurried towards the walls. Though spring had arrived in the lands far to the south, winter refused to relinquish its hold on the northern border of Saldaea so easily, and it would likely be another month or two before the spring planting could begin in the fields just to the south. Her skirts swirling in the white snow dusting the roads, Eshara embraced saidar, feeling the One Power rush into her. Scanning the walls, she spotted an empty space upon the ramparts, and almost before thought, flows of Spirit fell into place and a Gateway spun into appearance. In a single step, she Travelled to the walls of the city she called her home, one of the main lines of defence in the north and the charge of House Aravell since the days of the Last Battle. Rebuilt in what had once been known as the Mountains of Dhoom before the Last Battle, Alirycas had served as a relatively autonomous outpost to the north from Maradon in recognition of House Aravell’s efforts against the Shadow. With the aid of the One Power that many of Eshara’s descendants wielded, spring and summer provided a fierce, if short, growing season that sustained the city throughout the long cold winters of the far north. But that had all changed when the Blight had reappeared more than fifty years ago. When Trolloc and Myrddraal raids had ended any hope of peace that House Aravell had entertained since the Great Seanchan War. Once a distant and forgettable outpost in the north, Alirycas was now one of the main focal points for Trolloc Raids, responsible for guarding several passes down from the Blight into the Borderlands. As her shoes crossed from dirt to stone, Eshara felt flows of saidar rush up towards her, and ducked just in time as a jet of fire sprayed upon the wall, causing chips of stone to score her face. Cursing under her breath, she threw up a shield of Air as another blast of Fire shook the wall, throwing soldiers and archers to the ground. Where were Varisa and the others? They should have been here by now.
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Cirus
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Soldier of the Black Tower
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Mar 10, 2019 15:04:28 GMT
Post by Cirus on Mar 10, 2019 15:04:28 GMT
Saldea, a land of some of the finest horsemen in the known world. A land where the men and women held sharp eyes and a fierce attitude. A land that was something out of a fairy tale for men like Cirus. The legends did not do the land of Saldea justice. The people here had a spirit that he envied, despite the cold nature of the land and the blight on their doorstep. There were many happy families, men and women who, despite the danger on their doorstep, led fulfilling and happy lives.
Cirus was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of bells. Alarm bells, from the look of the way people were moving about the streets. A few were shooting him concerned looks, one or two seemed to smile when they saw him. Of course, a soldier from the black tower, a weapon of destruction akin to the fiercest storm. Light bless their deluded souls, they didn’t know just how weak he was, how little he could actually help if things went poorly.
A soldier ran up to him, shouting that they needed everyone in the walls or deeper into town. Cirus merely nodded, he was here attached to one of the full Asha’man brothers from the tower. He was meant to observe and learn, not to actively take part. Yet he couldn’t turn away, the order had been founded in order to fight the Shadow, and with its return nearly half a century ago their mission became as important as ever.
Having to make a decision, and with no one to consult, Cirus decided that action was better than inaction and made his way against the crowds toward the wall. Many moving back were women and children, though there were a few old men and some his own age who were also making their way back to the safety of the inner city. A few knots of men were stationed at street corners or in key intersections, not soldiers by the look of their clothing, but definitely dangerous enough to be soldiers. They gave him odd looks as he moved toward the wall, some seemed relieved, others confused, a few of the older men looked apathetic.
Running as fast as he could he made it there just as many of the soldiers were arriving at the wall. As they took their place Cirus moved to the top to see if he could get a better look at what was coming at them. Unfortunately, as he arrived so to did the enemy. A gout of flame striking a few feet from where he was, setting alight a small wooden structure. Cursing under his breath, Cirus reached out to Saidin, embracing it and wrestling to control the power. Once it was under his control he reached out to the fire, pulling it completely from the wood and stone that was heated. Nothing remained of the fire, not even smoke. A small victory, but all he could reasonably manage.
Looking out to the oncoming enemy, Cirus prepared himself for the coming battle.
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Post by Elaira Taravin on Mar 12, 2019 4:50:12 GMT
Spring was late. Elaira had heard that it took longer here in the Borderlands, especially with the resurgent Blight, but it had been a shock upon Traveling to Saldaea to find snow still on the ground. She'd traveled to Alirycas more conventionally and had found the weather even less hospitable. Even now a frigid wind seemed determined to draw her attention, to force her to set aside her task. In this case, her task was studying a small leatherbound book. She wasn't inclined to give in, even with the wind whipping through her divided riding skirts and forcing her fur-trimmed red cloak to billow out behind her. Elaira navigated mostly subconsciously through the streets, ignoring gazes and even the occasional question (or perhaps shout? she was too focused to worry about it right now.) She was an oddity here, after all; her red-gold hair marked her for Andoran, and there were few places where pretty women in well made and well-fitting clothing were ignored.
She paused, both examining the hand-written text before her with a curious, frustrated frown and simultaneously regretting that she hadn't quite gotten around to purchasing some Saldaean dresses yet. They'd looked delightfully unusual and would, perhaps, have helped her to fit in.
Most of her attention though was on the book, even as she meandered through the narrow snowy streets of the Borderlands fortress-city. Bells tolled faintly, somewhere far from her thoughts, adding an almost cheery note to the scene. Books had always drawn her attention, at least when that attention wasn't being led elsewhere. More than one Sister had hoped she'd join the Brown, she knew. For her part, Elaira had always assumed she'd follow Ishara into the Green. She still wondered sometimes how she'd ended up so far from home as a Red Sister, even if she did enjoy the travels and adventures (not that she would ever admit it!) Still, this particular book wasn't for pleasure reading, or even for study. It contained her own notes, carefully culled from more experienced Red Sisters and from questioning the various townspeople great and small she'd encountered since arriving in Saldaea. She was searching for the Kin.
Healers and wise-women, Tower cast-offs and, rarely, runaways, the Kin were an open secret to the Red Sisters Elaira had spoken to, back in the Tower. Most were benign about it, but few put much stock in the organization. They'd considered it a matter of Power. Elaira, for her part, wasn't so sure. She'd joined the Red to help guide those who needed it, and considering the collective experience of these Kins-women they'd undoubtedly be useful for tracking down women who'd benefit from journeying to the White Tower. So she'd followed the Red Sisters' eyes and ears to Saldaea, and from there the reports had gotten more interesting, and more unusual. There were hushed discussions about women wielding the Power. Not healers or guides, but warriors defending the Border. Most men weren't foolish enough to speak of such things, and when they were women were often quick to remind them none-too-gently to mind their own tasks, but things slipped out. One interview, memorably interrupted by the man's wife cursing him for a fool, had led her to Alirycas. So she'd continued north, and had spent the early morning after her arrival obsessively studying her notes rather than think ahead to any possible contact with the Kin. Actively reaching out had seemed much easier when it wasn't quite so imminent.
Her concentration was broken at last by a sudden jostling, tossing her notebook to the snowy ground. She glanced up in alarm only to spot a man, a soldier by his garb, hurrying away. He was looking back over his shoulder at her in disbelief. Strange.... The clamor from the bells suddenly seemed rather loud. Oh. It's an alarm. I see. Elaira felt vaguely...serene. Nonplussed. More detached than normal, perhaps. Her jaw dropped, an overwhelming display of emotion that, likely, would have more senior Aes Sedai laugh. Or perhaps curse. Her mind moving in slow motion, Elaira bent down and scooped up her notebook. She tucked it carefully away into the satchel she carried, wondering what to do. A real Border raid. Shadowspawn and worse at the walls. She had a responsibility as Aes Sedai to assist, of course. But it was a responsibility for which she was ill-suited. If Ishara had been there, Elaira was sure, things would be different. The Daughter-Heir would have dragged Elaira to the wall already and would, likely, be single-handedly forcing back the attack. Unfortunately, it was Elaira who was in Alirycas, and Elaira who had to fight her way through the crowds that were surging away from the walls. She considered, briefly, channeling to clear a path with Air. She was a small woman fighting her way through an increasingly panicked crowd, after all, but she discarded the idea before it had even taken root. No need to scare these people anymore. Instead, Elaira slowly pulled off the glove on her right hand, revealing to anyone with eyes a Great Serpent ring. The mark of Aes Sedai. She caught a soldier trying to calm the crowd, with her eye, then waved the hand, ring and all, in his face. "I am Elaira Taravin, Aes Sedai! I need you to escort me to the walls. Now." She tried to channel Ishara's cool confidence and command, but mostly just managed to shout at the man. By his face, though, and the immediate jump to respond, it had worked. In short order a small collection of guards and soldiers had bullied a way for her to the walls, forming a tight escort. She could have done without the shouts of "Make way for the Aes Sedai!" of course, but they had her on the walls far faster then she could have managed herself.
Elaira opened herself to the Source, embracing Saidar. It was a river of life, a pleasant burn that sharply highlighted the world around her. Even now, years after she'd first touched it, the wonder of the One Power made her feel alive. Elaira took a deep breath, savoring it. She could hear her newly-found guards shouting her arrival to the defenders. She could smell flame and smoke. She could hear the bells, see the fear on the soldiers' faces...and see the young man in a black coat that she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, was wrestling with the male half of the Source. Saidin. He didn't glow to her eyes as a woman embracing saidar would, but Elaira knew it all the same. Asha'man? Here? And more than that, there was something familiar about him.... At that moment another surge of flame came over the walls and Elaira snapped into action. Detached and dreamy she might be, but no one became Aes Sedai without learning to channel instantly in times of danger. She spun a wall of Air in front of the battlements, preventing the fire from roasting her impromptu honor guard. What am I getting myself into? Her attention was so focused on the sudden shift into battle that she failed to even consider the possibility that she had just revealed herself to the Kin.
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Mar 12, 2019 11:39:51 GMT
Post by Eshara Aravell on Mar 12, 2019 11:39:51 GMT
The amount of saidar that Eshara held dwindled to but a dribble, life and light draining away from her as she scurried along the walls without shame. Honour was important, true, but second to one's smarts and survival. She would do no good to Alirycas if she lay dead on the streets from reckless abandon, killed by either a trolloc spear or burned alive with the Power. The trollocs below roared and bellowed, climbing up the walls as the Dreadlords provided cover fire for them. Peeking up over the ramparts, she scanned the chaos below, seeing several different banners flying high in the winds howling up the slopes of the valley. Immediately, fire blossomed towards her, and Eshara drew deeply upon the One Power until sweetness bordered upon pain. Spirit and Fire flashed in the air almost without thought, the edge of the weaving sharp as a knife, and the bolt of fire was sliced apart in mid-air.
Flows of Air spun before her, and Eshara turned in shock at the strength of it. There were none currently living in Alirycas who could have channelled so strongly in Air, including her own person, save if they were linked together. Such strength in the Power ... Eshara could remember a time when such strength was not only rare, but near unheard of. Even now in the days after the Last Battle, when talents were being rediscovered and strength in the Power had begun to rise once more, individuals with such strength were still uncommon, though no longer as rare. Enough so that Eshara knew all the names of those who had such strength, for by nature they rose through the ranks of Aes Sedai fast, thrown into prominence by the great deeds and expectations that lay heavy on them. But though she knew the names and exploits, she did not know the faces. Indeed, as she turned towards the woman who stood several paces away, her red cloak swirling in the snow as blasts of fire hammered about her. A ring of gold glittered on one of her fingers - Aes Sedai - and Eshara felt a twinge of annoyance at the sight, noting the honour guard standing about her.
She did not need an Aes Sedai swooping in, assuming that she knew best in all things, to commandeer the troops on the wall. Still, she could prove useful, if properly directed, but Eshara would only watch for now, and observe. The Aes Sedai - Red Ajah, by her colouring - had to be here for some purpose.
Fire slammed against the wall of Air yet again, and Eshara scanned the battlefield closely, saidar bringing the ground before the wall into stark clarity, the details coming to her as clear as day. A figure stood at the back of the raid, hooded and clothed in back to mask her appearance, a halo of saidar about her. From the attacks that came against them both, the Dreadlord likely had an angreal, though thankfully it was probably a weak one. Nonetheless, had Eshara been required to face her alone, she would not have been certain of her victory. Flows of Air and Fire stabbed forward, and lightning snapped down from the sky towards the Dreadlord, a lance of silver-blue that burned afterimages into Eshara's vision.
And bounced off ... something.
Eshara went pale.
There was more than one channeller fighting for the Shadow on this battlefield today.
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Cirus
103 posts
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Soldier of the Black Tower
Without strength you can't protect anyone.
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Post by Cirus on Mar 13, 2019 1:28:32 GMT
Cirus cursed his luck as he watched another gout of fire appear out of nowhere to spread across the walls. He did his best to remember his training from the Black Tower, keeping a cool head and keeping to the side of the wall that the traffic was flowing on. The soldiers themselves were moving in a disciplined and orderly manner, a credit to their training and their harsh lives on the border. Then again most of them had probably been standing guard here since before he was born. Another blast of energy nearly threw him off his feet, whoever was throwing fire at the walls was doing their best to make sure that the defenders didn’t get a chance to throw anything over the walls. It would make for fierce fighting on the walls if it came to it, which Cirus could only hope wouldn’t at this point.
Suddenly Cirus saw something before the wall was struck with fire, a flash of a weave before it appeared. Pure fire, directed to appear out of nowhere. Someone was throwing Saidan at the walls, given that the only two men in town who could channel, at least that he was aware of, it had to mean that the raiders had brought a dreadlord with them. This did not bode well for the defenders, but he couldn’t worry about that now.
Looking out over the wall he tried to identify the source, but in the chaos of the battle, it was all he could do to track the weaves of Saidan that were being thrown at the walls. Drawing in Saidan until he felt like he would drown in the fiery wave of power that was rolling over him. Only his fierce concentration kept him from drowning, and he began to move and act more out of reaction an training than any actual thought.
He did his best to mitigate the damage from the incoming waves, pulling off fire from any part of the wall that was burning and directing it as best he could to ladders that were leaning against them. He could only hope that he wouldn’t draw the attention of whatever dreadlord was working out there. It seemed the man had greater concerns, as his energy kept being directed further ahead at him…. At one specific point.
It was only then that his brain registered what the man was targeting. Or rather, who he was targeting. He barely had time to shout a warning as another weave was being targeted. Inside, he cursed his own lack of talent.
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Mar 14, 2019 23:36:11 GMT
Post by Elaira Taravin on Mar 14, 2019 23:36:11 GMT
Chaos. Screams. Shouts. The clarity of saidar's embrace was, quite suddenly, a disquieting thing. It had been her refuge against the anxieties of her life for so long that Elaira, instinctively, clung tighter. This was no ordinary raid. Those blasts of fire were not siege weapons. They were saidar. Her shield held, for the moment, but there was a woman out there...a dreadlord out there. Elaira didn't have the experience or the knowledge of where to look, and too much of her focus was upon the walls to try. The dreadlord was apparently strong enough to split her focus. Other sections of the wall were coming under fire, and... wait, that glow! Indeed, there was another channeler on the walls. That made three of them, at least. The older woman (though truly the only signs were the streaks of white and gray through her hair) glowed a brilliant white far more pure than the muddied snow all along the top of the wall. And she seemed to be weaving...? Lightning? Elaira watched as the bolt streaked down, finally placing the dreadlord's location at the back of the Trolloc pack. That the bolt had stopped, seemingly invisibly...that was dangerous. "Asha'man!" she shouted, looking about for the young man who'd held saidin, but she lost him in the flow of battle. She was too uneasy, too unused to active combat. Her attention felt thin and stretched. There's another male channeler out there.... Elaira took a deep breath, stepping forward. Her nerves were taut, stomach roiling. What do I do? Not for the first time, she wished for another Aes Sedai. Ishara. Someone to make the decisions. But there was no one, unless that...Kin-woman? managed to get to Elaira's section of the wall. A small laugh slipped out, causing Elaira's honor guard to look at her uneasily. I suppose keeping a low profile is now out. Well, there was no one else to make the decisions for her. Elaira would have to make her own. She leaned forward, hood slipping back to reveal the red-gold Andoran locks, now dyed bloody red by the flames. "Please go see to your fellows," she said to the guard that still clustered around her. "I will do my part here."
She drew in more, and more, and more of the Power. Nearly as much as she could hold altogether. She wasn't quite Ishara's equal, but she'd been one of the stronger Accepted and was now one of the stronger Aes Sedai. Elaira Taravin would have to do for now. To those with the eyes to see she was a brilliant torch upon the walls, and after a moment she began to spin out more and more weaves. There were ten in all, some of Air, and some of Water. She didn't dare split her attention further, as all were needed to defend against the fiery blasts of the dreadlord. She set more shields upon the walls, expanding her coverage as much as she could, while behind and along the wall water began to rain down, spun out of pure saidar to quench any of the fire that managed to slip past. Perhaps with enough, the soldiers could move forward to fend off any Trollocs that dared to approach. She couldn't defend everyone, though; even now Elaira held nearly as much of the Source as she could, and it left the other channeler's section of the wall exposed. She would have to see to herself, unfortunately.
With her attention so split, she hardly heard the Asha'man's shouted warning. Even then, she didn't really process it; her efforts were focused on defending the wall. Perhaps luckily, the attack was directed at the other female channeler on the wall: the woman of the Kin.
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Post by Eshara Aravell on Mar 15, 2019 3:27:20 GMT
The presence of an unknown Aes Sedai within the walls of Alirycas was somewhat distracting to Eshara, and she kept glancing out of the corner of her eye at the multitude of weaves being spun into place, dousing fires and shielding the wall. The soldiers on the wall gave the Aes Sedai a wild berth, while maintaining their utmost respect, more than what was given even to Eshara herself most of the time, and she herself was the Matriarch of House Aravell that held this city and the fiefdoms just to the south of it. And even Eshara had no choice but to feel some degree of wonder at the amount of power that the Aes Sedai held, far more than she herself could do unaided. Yet, for all that power, the Aes Sedai’s dividing of her flows had weakened her grasp on the wall, and before she realised it, Eshara was exposed.
There was a shout from beside her, distinguishable only to her saidar enhanced ears over the noise of battle, and Eshara turned to see a soldier in a black cloak gesturing from outside. The hair on her skin tingled, and she hastily wove a shield of Air around them both just as lightning slammed down upon the two of them. The shield held for a moment, but in her haste Eshara had not been able to throw her full strength at it. It gave way, there was a roar and the world turned to white.
Her vision blurred, and Eshara came to to see Varisa standing above her, her face a mask of worry and concentration. Shaking herself, Eshara stood upright, only to have Varisa frown at her. “It is not like you to lose yourself so, Eshara. What on earth is wrong with you?”
Fire blossomed up towards them again, but met a wall of Air, held in place by a circle of women. Channelling elsewhere made Eshara turn, and she saw - besides the red Sister - two other circles of women on the wall, each comprised of two or three women, holding shields of Air to cover the rest of the Wall, and slicing weaves in mid-air. They had fought in many raids before over the last fifty years, and they knew how to defend themselves. In response to Varisa’s question, she glanced at the Aes Sedai, and though she said nothing, Varisa knew what she meant.
“We shall deal with that later as we need to. For now …” she spread her hands towards the noise and chaos, and the raid was laid out before them.
Beneath the wall, the Saldaean cavalry rode forth in small groups, striking and harassing at the trolloc horde. Balls of fire flew occasionally towards them, and as Eshara watched, the ground erupted in front of a group that rode too close to the female Dreadlord, throwing men and horses into the air. But for now the Kinswomen on the wall were holding most of the Dreadlords attention, for linked even in twos, they were on par with Aes Sedai, if on the weaker side. Embracing saidar, Eshara linked with Varisa, drawing upon what they both could safely hold - not that much more than Eshara herself could hold, for Varisa could never have been raised to Aes Sedai. She looked at man in the black cloak from before - he had either managed to escape the main force of the blast, or Varisa had healed him as well. Beckoning to him, she nodded at the scene in front of them. "Can you point out the male Dreadlords? I cannot see the weaves. And if I cannot identify them, I cannot Shield them."
Lightning crackled in the air again, but Eshara was ready. Again a shield of Air caused the lightning to halt in the air far above, but the attack broke off as another circle from the wall struck back. Eshara could see the weaves of Fire, of Spirit as the weaves were sliced back and forth. Taking a deep breath, she entered the fight again, weaving cable-thick flows of Spirit into Shields and flung them towards the female Dreadlord. An invisible weave of saidin cut the first, and she grunted at the recoil, while the second itself was sliced apart with Spirit and Fire. But she kept weaving and throwing Shields at the female Dreadlord, so fast that they were a blur - Shielding had always been a Talent of hers, and the weaves seemed to form of their own accord.
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Cirus
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Soldier of the Black Tower
Without strength you can't protect anyone.
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Mar 15, 2019 19:15:56 GMT
Post by Cirus on Mar 15, 2019 19:15:56 GMT
The blast of lightning nearly split where Cirus would have been standing, and where the woman he was shouting to had just been. Something had delayed it, Cirus could only guess it was Saidar and one of the many women on the wall that were causing his skin to rise with goosebumps that was causing it. Whoever had done it had saved his life, and the lives of the other woman. He would have to find out who did it after this was done.
“Asha man!”
The words barely caught his ear, but unless his mentor had somehow stepped to the walls without his sensing it, there was only one person the words could be directed at. He turned and saw who was trying to shout for him, a woman was somehow very familiar. Even without the powers of Saidan guide his thoughts or motions she would have been so. If not for the chaos of the battle he might even have been able to place a name and memory to the feeling. As it was he could only wonder how he knew her. She could not be a local woman, as this was his first trip to Saldaea.
His attention was ripped from her by another shout, this one a command. It may havve been phrased as a question, but Cirus knew the tone of authority when he heard it, and this woman spoke with the authority that would have made the full brothers of the tower snap to attention. He understood his role clear as day now, find who was channeling and point them out. If they could cut the shadow’s dreadlords off from the one power, they could better turn their own advantages against them.
Releasing his hold on Saidan was not difficult, despite the roiling storm that it was he had learned long ago that his talents would do him little good here at the moment. At best it would make him a tiny bit sharper while looking out over a massive battlefield, at worst it would make him a target, and he had not the strength to shield himself from lighting. Cirus turned his eyes to the battlefield, scouting to see if he could identify the dreadlord channeling.
It was in the western flank that he found the dreadlord, an insignificant spec among the greater melee that was going on. He had dressed himself in a manner similar to the way Cirus might have if not for the laws of the borderlands. A black cloak covering him, with the hood raised over his head, whether to hide his identity or protect him from the cold Cirus could not say. He rode a black horse and wore a sword at his side that from this distance seemed indistinguishable to any other blade in the eney army. Yet he stood out clear as day to one who could sense Saidan, and a far greater threat than Cirus could ever hope to pose in his current state. He watched as the man weaved a thread to cut through something, what he could not say, only that it seemed to be aimed at another lone figure.
“There! On the western flank, in a Fade’s attire!”
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Post by Elaira Taravin on Mar 16, 2019 1:32:03 GMT
Elaira was breathing slowly and evenly, gaze placid as she peered out over the wall. Still, sweat pooled at her brow despite the bitter winter winds and her fingers scratched tightly against the stone of the wall before her. The arrival of the others (Kin, she assumed) was a great boon. The circles of other women, flickering torches of silver amongst the soldiers, drew the attention and fire of the dreadlords away from Elaira's own sections. In addition, they'd saved the other woman on the wall from Elaira's oversight, preventing the sneak attack from the male dreadlord from being effective. Still, Elaira was stressing herself to the breaking point. The Source she held was an everflowing tumult of the Power that sung to be used, while maintaining each of her weaves kept her concentration focused.
The Kin were battle ready and experienced, however. While most of the circles began to shield the wall, the woman who'd been there first had taken up her own circle and was forcing the dreadlords on the defensive. She was lashing out with wrist-thick cables of Spirit, dazzling in their complexity, all aimed at the woman. If even one of them was successful they'd take the woman out of the fray. Both dreadlords were soon forced to dedicate themselves to defending against the attempts, intermixed with sporadic attacks aimed at the Saldaen cavalry that was already slicing through the raiders.
Elaira wasn't feeling comfortable, however. She didn't know much about battles, but she knew one thing: so long as the male dreadlord was out there, the Kin wouldn't be able to take the woman. The lack of male channelers here was being exploited in a clever fashion. Even with the seemingly tireless Kin and her incredibly complex shields, they'd never get past the slices of saidin that were guarding her. If it weren't for that Asha'man.... So she listened, carefully. Hoping. Her ears picked up the grunts from the soldiers, the screams of pain and fright, the animalistic roars of the Trollocs. And, finally, a man's voice raised above the cacophony: “There! On the western flank, in a Fade’s attire!” Finally. Elaira wasn't sure what Ishara would have done, in her place; probably rally the troops and lead them to the field herself, smiting the dreadlords at a distance. But Alirycas would have to make do, and Elaira intended to make it count. As soon as the Asha'man announced a direction, her eyes snapped to the target. With a target in mind and the Asha'man's directions, she could sense the roar of saidin even at this distance, and she was certain he was the channeler causing them so many problems. She dropped her shields of air, dropped the weaves keeping the water on the walls, and lashed out with two weaves with all her strength. The first was pure Fire, to slice through any protections she couldn't see. The second was her own cable thick weave of Spirit. The Fire met resistance, briefly, before snapping through whatever had been there. The second slammed into place with a force Elaira could almost feel, a shield cutting the man away from saidin. The Kin kept the woman from interfering, and the man, well.... He'd been so focused on exploiting their inability to see saidin that he'd never expected an attack that was, to him, similarly invisible.
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last online May 27, 2022 20:18:26 GMT
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Post by Eshara Aravell on Mar 16, 2019 4:27:32 GMT
The very air itself hummed around Eshara as she wove Spirit almost too fast to blink. The One Power surged within her, and saidar made the female Dreadlord’s face plainly visible even at this distance, her expression one of consternation and fear as she fended off the attacks as best she could. Out of the corner of her eye, Eshara could feel the other circles joining in at her lead, weaving flows of Spirit and Fire that lashed out at the Dreadlords, if not so fast or with as much strength as Eshara herself. The air between the two sides seemed almost charged, and Eshara now was weaving more by instinct than anything else, for the flows of saidar were clogging the air so much that her vision was being impaired. If it had not been for the male dreadlord, slicing their attacks with invisible weaves of saidin, the woman would long since have been shielded and bound. A Shield slammed onto the woman, the glow of saidar dwindling despite the angreal the other had, but the weave was sliced apart by saidin, causing Eshara to grunt in frustration.
“There! On the western flank, in a Fade’s attire!”
Eshara’s gaze snapped to the Soldier of the Black Tower - he had neither the Sword or the Dragon Pin on his collar that she could see - and then to the western flank, as he had said. A man, hooded and cloaked beyond recognition, stood at the back of the horde, watching. No wonder she had not been able to find him - the Dreadlords were growing smart, indeed. But she had not the strength to spare to attempt shielding him as well, not when she and all the circles of the Kin on the wall were struggling to even place a shield on the woman alone. Another Shield slid between the woman and the source, but was sliced apart just as it fell into place, and Eshara’s feet shifted at the recoil.
Then, massive flows of Spirit and Fire lashed out from the Aes Sedai, and a Shield slammed onto the male Dreadlord, causing him to fall off his horse. The female Dreadlord’s eyes were still opening wide at her companion’s fall as Eshara slammed a second shield onto her too, and the glow winked out from around the Dreadlord. Flows of Air bound the woman hand and foot, and the woman skidded across the battlefield, shrieking imprecations as Eshara dragged her towards the wall and up above the ramparts without any care for the other’s clothing or bearing. And when she was on the ramparts, Eshara motioned to the soldiers around her. “Bind and gag her. We may want to question her after the raid is done, and thereafter she will be delivered to the White Tower to be trialed and executed under the Light.” The dreadlord’s eyes bulged, and she fought to struggle as the soldiers around Eshara leaped to obey, but Eshara’s binding of Air fixed her in motion, and the most she could do was scream until she was gagged.
There was no pity in Eshara’s heart, not for any creature of the Shadow.
Beyond the wall, the battle was winding down. Without the dreadlords to occupy their attention, the Kin on the wall now focused upon the remainder of the trolloc raids, setting them alight with Fire wherever they could until the rest of the raid broke off and fled back down the valley into the shelter of the Blight. As to the male dreadlord the Aes Sedai had captured … Eshara began to march down the wall, the light of saidar upon her still as she maintained the shield on her own captured prisoner.
There was an Aes Sedai to greet.
“The blessings of the light be upon you on this day, Aes Sedai." Eshara intoned as she reached the woman, noting the Great Serpent ring on the other's finger. She curtseyed, a gesture of respect, but something about it implied a measure of equality in their relationship. What brings you here to Alirycas?”
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Cirus
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Soldier of the Black Tower
Without strength you can't protect anyone.
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Post by Cirus on Mar 16, 2019 5:27:38 GMT
Cirus watched as the shields around the Dreadlord were cut by some invisible force. It had to be Saidar from one of the women on the walls. The man himself seemed to have been lost in his own assault, or possibly in holding a defense against something Cirus could not see. Whoever did it they certainly turned the tide of the assault, with the trollocs and fade’s quickly being driven back by the soldiers and storm of power coming from what Cirus could only assume was several weaves of Saidar. He cursed himself for not being able to do more as the trollocs and their masters retreated back into the blight, a true Asha’man would have been down there to cross blades with them, or at least cut into their ranks with fire and earth, as he should be doing.
Turning his attention back to the wall, he watched in silent shock as a woman was dragged across the field and up the wall. Even more shocking was what was to be done with her. A dark friend, she should have been executed on the spot, though he could not argue with the logic put forth by the woman who seemed to be giving the orders. They were too blind to the movements of their enemies, they needed to know more about their movements, but an enemy dreadlord would not have been his first choice of targets for interrogation.
With the raid seemingly over he simply stood aside to allow the soldiers' room to move as he watched the exchange between the leader of the defense and the Aes Sedai. Now that the fight was over he had time to look over her more closely, watching her carefully. It only took him a moment to realize who she was.
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last online Feb 26, 2024 5:57:23 GMT
Aes Sedai
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Mar 16, 2019 17:46:36 GMT
Post by Elaira Taravin on Mar 16, 2019 17:46:36 GMT
Elaira breathed deeply, still leaning against the wall, fingers relaxing. Good. The male dreadlord was struggling back to his feet, hood thrown back and eyes wide. She knew that feeling, of course. She'd experienced being shielded before, while learning in the Tower. It was a helpless, powerless feeling, and it gave Elaira a grim sense of satisfaction to render it unto one sworn to the Shadow. She watched as the woman dreadlord was brought up by the Kin's weaves of Air, still struggling. Elaira started, then; the battle below was winding down, the Trollocs repulsed without someone to guide them. It wouldn't do to let the other dreadlord get away, so copying the Kin Elaira bound him hand and foot and hoisted him back onto the wall, mouth gagged with a separate flow. He didn't have the same concerns as his compatriot, but he fought fiercely. Elaira examined him closely as she placed him on the wall, still bound by air; a hateful man of indeterminate features, perfect for the Shadow's use. Had he spent time in Alirycas, then? Scouting it in advance of the raid, determining that there were none here who could sense his channeling. Perhaps. If it weren't for the timely arrival of that Asha'man.... She shook her head, strengthening and increasing the complexity of her shield before tying off the weave. She looked at it with a critical eye, studying the weave and seemingly looking past the man to which it was applied. It would hold, she decided, though she'd have to examine it again before taking him to the Tower. That done, she nodded to the guards nearby, recognizing at least the first of the soldiers she'd borrowed. "He should be safe to handle, now. Put him someplace safe, if you would be so kind. I'll be sure to check on him presently." With the man in custody she slowly, gratefully, and reluctantly released her grip on saidar. Life dimmed perceptibly around her, the battlefield faded into a chaotic mess, and the sounds mercifully retreated from her ears. “The blessings of the light be upon you on this day, Aes Sedai. What brings you here to Alirycas?" Elaira couldn't help it, she jumped. One hand to her chest, she spun quickly to see the woman she'd first spotted on the walls. A seemingly older woman with graceful, intimidating Saldaean features and marks of white and silver through her hair, she projected power as easily as she breathed. The curtsey felt almost incongruous, causing Elaira to shuffle uneasily. She glanced down at her hand, still displaying her Great Serpent ring, and hurried to pull her glove back on. "Ah...many thanks," Elaira began. Without the adrenaline forcing her decisions, Elaira was beginning to realize how badly she'd bungled her initial plan. "I was, ah... Hmm." Bloody Three Oaths! The curse took her by surprise, but she did her best to keep her face smooth. It was mostly successful...though not entirely. "I'd heard interesting rumors of your stronghold, here. I was curious to see how many of them were true." She put on a smile she hoped was bland enough and reached down for the satchel beneath her cloak where her notes lay. It was a comforting weight at her side. Focus. She took a deep breath, trying to marshall her earlier plan, when her eyes went to the black coated figure behind the Saldaean woman. Suddenly Elaira was in a Caemlyn ally, standing nervously behind Ishara and Gareth, watching as a young boy was held, seized by Air. "It's you!" Elaira forced out, glancing back at the Saldaean woman. "I apologize, this is just an unexpected reunion." Glancing back, she noted the lack of his pins. Just a Soldier then, but still! "I'm so glad you made your way there, you look like you're doing much better now!"
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last online May 27, 2022 20:18:26 GMT
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Mar 29, 2019 13:44:09 GMT
Post by Eshara Aravell on Mar 29, 2019 13:44:09 GMT
That an Aes Sedai had been caught off-guard by Eshara’s greeting - indeed, she looked downright uncomfortable at her presence - caused Eshara to raise an eyebrow internally, and she looked harder. The lack of an ageless face immediately stood out, but even then Eshara had met Aes Sedai who had yet to attain the ageless look in her travels, and many of them had been more composed than this Sister was right now. Either she had been very newly raised to the Shawl, or she had somehow managed to slip past the indoctrination of Aes Sedai mystery that seemed to permeate the White Tower down to its very foundations. She had seen it many times over the centuries, daughters and granddaughters and more sent to the Tower, losing hold of their roots and surrendering to the doctrine of the Tower above all else. For a moment, Eshara felt as though she were the Mistress of Novices, and the other a novice who was unsure as of yet if she had been caught out at a misdeed, and she could not help quirk a smile at the image.
Her own Mistress of Novices had been Sereille Bagand. Certainly Sereille’s methods had been tough on Eshara when she had been a recalcitrant novice and a blooming Accepted, but having three hundred years to reflect on her methods had only served to raise Sereille in Eshara’s eyes. When Sereille had been raised as Amyrlin, Eshara herself had watched at a distance as the White Tower’s hold over the world grew to heights that would remain unmatched until the days after the Last Battle and Cadsuane had become Amyrlin herself. Not unsurprisingly, during that time, Eshara had all but disappeared from old Alirycas, not willing to risk the White Tower’s wrath while its attention on the world was at a peak.
The sudden outburst by the Aes Sedai towards the Soldier standing behind her all but confirmed her youth, and spoke of a startling openness that Eshara had rarely seen in any Aes Sedai. Aes Sedai were sometimes warm, often distant, but she had yet to see an Aes Sedai lose her cool or her composure in such a public setting. The other must be truly young indeed. The only other Aes Sedai whom she had ever seen lose her public composure was el’Nynaeve ti al’Meara Mandragoran, whom Eshara had met once before upon a state visit by the royalty of Malkier to Saldaea. But el’Nynaeve had never been what most would call a traditional Aes Sedai, from the mere fact that she never had been a novice at all, to the fact that she had been Accepted for less than a year before being raised to the Shawl.
Certainly she and Elayne Trakand and Elaida had been instrumental in the White Tower’s decision to enforce the five-year rule for both novices and Accepted, regardless of potential. The first two because of their utter lack of respect for convention, and the last because of the disaster she had brought to the Tower in her misrule.
Time to take control of situation here, if she could. Things were spiralling willy-nilly, and the Aes Sedai didn’t seem quite up to the task to bring order to chaos. She glanced back at the female dreadlord, who was still struggling in the binds of Air. Occasionally she would feel the shield bulge as the other sought to break free, but the shield didn’t resist, but bent and stretched. So the female dreadlord was well in hand, and other matters could wait.
“My name is Eshara Aravell, Matriarch of House Aravell. There is little that goes on in Alirycas that does not eventually come to my ears, Aes Sedai. Perhaps I could shed some light on those rumours that you have heard.”
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Cirus
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Soldier of the Black Tower
Without strength you can't protect anyone.
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Post by Cirus on Mar 30, 2019 3:04:16 GMT
Cirus beamed as he was addressed. He was afraid he might have been forgotten in the intervening years since he was discovered by two noblewomen and one nobleman out to hunt down a rogue channeler. It had been nearly three years since Mistress Taravin and a few others had found him wandering the streets of Caemlyn, trying to run to someone, anyone who could get him out of the city and somewhere where he wouldn’t be discovered. Back then he’d been nearly skin and bones, with little more than a few rags to cover him. Running from the city guards. terrified of what might become of him, or of what would be done to him when it was discovered he could channel. It was only because of their intervention that he’d found a path in life he could truly tread with any confidence.
“Miss… er, forgive me. Elaira Sedai.”
Cirus bowed deeply, more so than he would have for even a king or queen. Excessive perhaps, but he did owe his life to this woman. It would hardly due to be discourteous.
“I am, in no small part thanks to your aid.”
Cirus froze and snapped back to attention as he saw the full brother assigned to watch over him just beyond the ring of soldiers that was dealing with the male dreadlord. The man only looked over and nodded to Cirus, what he had learned was a simple ‘carry on’ signal. He seemed more concerned with a debate he was having with the guard, likely trying to secure the dreadlord to be taken back to the Black Tower for his trial and eventual execution. Perhaps he hoped that if Cirus could keep the Aes Sedai’s attention than she wouldn’t raise objections to the Asha’man’s bringing of justice to the male dreadlord. That, or he just didn’t feel like playing politic today any more than he had to.
When the other woman approached Cirus took a step back, knowing the conversation about to take place had little to do with him and there would likely be even less that he could add to it. He had learned long ago how to recognize one who carried themselves with authority, and this woman oozed it. There was no doubt in his mind she had been the one to shout the order at him to identify the male dreadlord.
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last online Feb 26, 2024 5:57:23 GMT
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Post by Elaira Taravin on Mar 30, 2019 4:53:15 GMT
Elaira's smile for Cirus? was broad and genuine. It had been several years, after all, but she remembered the nearly-starving urchin boy clearly. His dire straits then had been a genuine shock to her pampered sensibilities, and their chance encounter had given Elaira a direction all her own. That seemed to be true of Cirus, as well. He'd grown into a young man, healthy and strong, no longer jumping at shadows. The smile faded, somewhat, as he addressed her by name, title, and bowed deeply. She'd made an impact, it seemed. That was startlingly humbling, and Elaira had never been a prideful sort to begin with. She was about to bid him stand when he rapidly snapped back to attention without prompting, and her real problem reasserted itself.
“My name is Eshara Aravell, Matriarch of House Aravell. There is little that goes on in Alirycas that does not eventually come to my ears, Aes Sedai. Perhaps I could shed some light on those rumors that you have heard.”
Elaira schooled her face to smoothness and cleared her throat. Relax. The Saldaean woman could have given any of the more senior Aes Sedai a run for their money in the authority she radiated. Elaira supposed it was something that she should have learned, herself, while in Tar Valon, but it had never stuck. She was lucky if she projected any sort of command at all, nevermind effortlessly. Settling back into a bland smile, Elaira kept one hand clasped to her satchel and brought the other back to her chest.
"Lady Aravell. I am Elaira Taravin, Aes Sedai of the Red Ajah."
Elaira felt, and fought, a strong urge to curtsey. It was like being in front of Queen Talana or the Amyrlin Seat. Get a hold of yourself, girl! You're Aes Sedai!
"I apologize for arriving unannounced, but it seems I arrived at a good time nonetheless."
Elaira punctuated her words with a glance at the woman dreadlord, and another over the battlements at the tail end of the battle. Without holding the Power, the sounds were wonderfully muted, but watching so much bloodshed left her feeling uneasy. She shook her head sharply, sending her hair whipping about, before returning her attention to the wall. Lady Aravell had the woman dreadlord well in hand, it seemed. Elaira was also confident the man's shield would hold for some time yet, though she didn't have any attention to spare him, now that he was in custody. The danger was passing, and Elaira needed to focus on that sense of relief. While not letting it show on her face. She wasn't certain she succeeded on the latter count.
"As for the rumors, well, I've seen a great deal for myself already."
Elaira's gaze shifted pointedly to a pair of the Kin women nearby, both still holding saidar and assisting in the rout. Their assistance had turned the tide. Elaira and Lady Aravell alone, even with Cirus' aid, might have prevailed but the toll would have been immense. The small circles they'd formed to repel the dreadlords' channeling had saved many lives. And, in spite of the remarkable way Elaira's plan had gone awry, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction. She had been right. These women more than made up for any lack of strength in Saidar with training, unity, and experience. There were lessons that could be learned here, maybe even girls or women to be recruited, if she could make the case for it. Beyond that, this raid was troubling for Elaira. It felt as though it were an unexpected escalation...and if it were not, that was information the Tower could use as well. She could accomplish much, here, if she was clever and careful. That thought made her heart twitch anxiously. How much could she ruin if she failed, instead?
Taking a moment to compose herself, Elaira glanced out over the battlefield again. Even Elaira, inexperienced as she was, could read that story. The raid would be over, soon, with all the dead and wounded that implied. Elaira felt another pang of guilt; Healing had never been her Talent, unfortunately. She would have to focus her attention in other directions. She looked back at Lady Aravell, forcing herself not to take a deep breath before speaking.
"I've no wish to distract you from your duties, Lady Aravell, but if the walls can spare you perhaps we could continue this discussion elsewhere? My reasons for visiting Alirycas pale in comparison to the threat you just fended off. I'd like to confer with you and see if we might find some answers. And with Soldier Cirus as well, if he would be kind enough to join us?"
She added the last sentence in an almost humming, singsong fashion, as though it had just occured to her, but she had a small grin for the Asha'man anyway. The Wheel had weaved an unexpected meeting, and she wasn't about to let him slip away so soon.
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