Post by Terron Aravell on Apr 19, 2019 17:31:43 GMT
The chill of winter hung over the fields of Caralain Grass, and the sky was grey and damp with the snow that coated the dead grass that was all buried beneath. But whatever the weather, the lessons of the Black Tower would continue, for though the institution had mellowed significantly from the days of the Last Battle, aspects of their initial military-style roots remained. With the threat of the Seanchan from across the Aryth and the Shadow from the north, even more of those elements had been revived in the training of Soldiers and Dedicated. Of course, the military-styled rules and elements did not apply to the rest of Caralain, only those who were initiates of the Black Tower. But the land of Caralain, while fair, was still organised along primarily military lines, and thus there was a limited amount of beauty and flexibility in thought when it came to design, and it was reflected in the straights and squares and rectangles and angles of the fields and the Black Tower.
Terron strode along one of the empty fields, left bare during the winter, a weave of Air and Fire held around him to keep in the heat. His black coat flapped about in the brisk wind, while behind him several soldiers of the Black Towers trailed, all struggling to keep up and maintain their weaves at the same time. Air was just an important a component in the weaving as Fire, and as a soldier it was often one of the hardest things to focus on, for men were rarely strong in Air. Terron himself was just such an example, but even then he still had enough skill to carry off such a relatively simple weave with ease.
Coming to a sudden stop, Terron turned and faced his students, who stared at him uncertainly. His face darkened, and they scurried to fall into order, forming a line facing him and the empty field before them. Terron continued to stare at them for a moment, noting their faces and recalling their strengths and weaknesses while the soldiers shifted uneasily. He was admittedly a hard teacher, with exacting standards and a low tolerance for foolishness - many a soldier had fallen afoul of him and had been assigned chores and extra duties for their negligence and ineptitudes during lessons that were more often than not brought about by having slacked off in their lessons taught by other instructors and therefore failing to meet the standards that Terron would have expected.
The first one he sought out was the sole Wilder of the group. Though the term had originated with the Aes Sedai, the Asha’man had picked it up, though without the derogatory connotations. To the Black Tower, it simply described something that one was. Someone who had channelled with the spark inborn and had blocked themselves for a time.
“Soldier!” Terron barked, moving to the side so that the field was in view. “Gather as much snow as you can together.” Moving snow required Air, and often quite a bit of Water as well, something that Cirus needed practice in. Seeing him hesitate, Terron’s eyebrows snapped together again. “Preferably before the sun reaches its peak, Soldier!”
Terron strode along one of the empty fields, left bare during the winter, a weave of Air and Fire held around him to keep in the heat. His black coat flapped about in the brisk wind, while behind him several soldiers of the Black Towers trailed, all struggling to keep up and maintain their weaves at the same time. Air was just an important a component in the weaving as Fire, and as a soldier it was often one of the hardest things to focus on, for men were rarely strong in Air. Terron himself was just such an example, but even then he still had enough skill to carry off such a relatively simple weave with ease.
Coming to a sudden stop, Terron turned and faced his students, who stared at him uncertainly. His face darkened, and they scurried to fall into order, forming a line facing him and the empty field before them. Terron continued to stare at them for a moment, noting their faces and recalling their strengths and weaknesses while the soldiers shifted uneasily. He was admittedly a hard teacher, with exacting standards and a low tolerance for foolishness - many a soldier had fallen afoul of him and had been assigned chores and extra duties for their negligence and ineptitudes during lessons that were more often than not brought about by having slacked off in their lessons taught by other instructors and therefore failing to meet the standards that Terron would have expected.
The first one he sought out was the sole Wilder of the group. Though the term had originated with the Aes Sedai, the Asha’man had picked it up, though without the derogatory connotations. To the Black Tower, it simply described something that one was. Someone who had channelled with the spark inborn and had blocked themselves for a time.
“Soldier!” Terron barked, moving to the side so that the field was in view. “Gather as much snow as you can together.” Moving snow required Air, and often quite a bit of Water as well, something that Cirus needed practice in. Seeing him hesitate, Terron’s eyebrows snapped together again. “Preferably before the sun reaches its peak, Soldier!”
