Myiona was brushing her hair when Mura'shar returned to her
quarters.
"Back already?" she laughed as she let him in.
Strictly business this time, I'm afraid" Mura'shar
replied. He
handed
over the message from the M'Hael "Do you know anything about this?"
Myiona scanned the page "I know these agents.
They work for my
family's
business. I remember now! They came to me while you were
still in the
Blight. They heard stories from the Sea Folk about unusual items
being
sold
in Shara....I sent them to the M'Hael, to see if this could be
confirmed"
"It looks like it's been confirmed all right.
But the Sharans are
notoriously dishonest in dealing with outsiders. Our Storm Team
s
being sent
to confirm that we are purchasing what they claim."
"It sounds simple enough. Tell the others.
Let me handle the
travel
arrangements"
*******A Short Time Later*******
Mura'shar gathered the Storm Team around him.
It had been an open
secret
that a new mission was being planned, though its sudden arrival had
taken
many off guard.
"All right everyone" he called when the voices sank
to a murmur "We
are
indeed going on another mission, and we leave as soon as Myiona
arranges for
a raker to take us to Shara"
"He paused a moment as several exclamations were
made. Few other
than
the Sea Folk traveled to Shara. It was a strange, alien land
to them.
Mura'shar explained the need, and assured them that
this time they
will
not in fact be doing battle with Shadowspawn, Darkfriends, or stranger
things
that have plagued previous missions.
"We make sure we aren't being cheated, and we baby-sit
some
ter'angreal
home. What can be simpler?"
A gateway opened and Myiona stepped through.
She nodded to
Mura'shar,
who then turned back to the crowd.
Pack your bags, everyone. It's a long trip!"
Outline:
The Black Tower has managed to secure a business deal with Shara for
some
artifacts from the Age of Legends, including possibly some angreal
and
ter'angreal. Knowing the Sharans to be notorious cheats, our
Storm
Team is
dispatched on a Sea Folk raker to Shara to make the purchase.
We are allowed into one of Shara's walled trading
cities, where I
am sure
there will be a great many adventures (according to the Guide, Sharans
don't
feel obligated to tell the truth to foreigners about anything)
We load up on the items, after verifying they are
ter'angreal, pay
them,
and leave.
Now real trouble begins. One of the ter'angreal,
let's say a
little
statue much like any angreal, only the statues head is a skull, was
a
ter'angreal of the Shadow during the War of the Shadow. Channeling
into it
activates a plague that will spread among the ship. It's a rotting
disease
similar to, but not exactly like, the rot attributed to the taint of
saidin.
It weakens and destroys the body, but unlike the taint, does not drive
it's
victims mad (although the pain it causes makes channeling difficult)
Before we can return home, we must find a way to
counter the
effects of
the ter'angreal, or risk infecting others. Basically, we're stuck
on a
plague ship. With what I could imagine would be a very upset
crew of
Sea
Folk.
Jake
M'Hael
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
Elois cooled her heels in the muddy Gateway Yard (as it was known
[::loves makin' things up::] in the Tower), forced to awkwardly cradle
her
baggage in her arms, trying to stay as dry as possible. This precipitation,
in her mind, put quite a damped on any enthusiasm that had been stirred
up by
Mura'shar's little speech a bit ago. And that was not much to begin
with.
Not one member of the Storm Team was
enthused about another mission so
soon, still stinging from the loss of comrades and the betrayal of
Darkfriends among them. Even though this mission did not hold so much
overt
danger ... well, that made it all the more dangerous, didn't it? After
all,
some of her colleagues might be lulled into a false sense of security...
However unlikely that was in Shara.
They would all be on their toes.
The prospect of visiting Shara was both
frightening and exciting.
Elois had been hoping to learn some manner of self-defense before the
next
mission so she wouldn't need to feel like such an odd-woman-out. But
there
was no time for that now.
"At least I packed lightly," she murmured
to herself, shifting foot to
foot in anticipation of the rest of the Team's arrival and their imminent
departure.
With a start, Elois recalled her last
experiences aboard seafaring
vessels was highly unpleasant. She grimaced disgustedly, and cursed,
as
Dragonsworn and Asha'man began to arrive in the yard.
Hannah
Stefan was booted awake by an Asha'man and told that the Storm
Team was
leaving soon. Still groggy from the nights festivities, Stefan moaned
an
incoherent sound that resembled a croak from a pithed frog. Getting
dressed
was the most difficult task for as soon as he bent over to get his
boots the
urge to empty his stomach sent him to the chamber pot.
"Too much cheap wine," he mumbled.
Gathering his boots he noticed that he was still dressed from the party.
Grunting and trying to straighten out his new uniform earned him a
frown from
some of the Storm Teams senior members. A woman was already in
the
courtyard, and seemed set to go at that moment.
Still shifting his two swords around, Stefan decided to start practicing
some
of the exercises for channeling.
Calm...calm..."Oh, man, I think I'm going to be sick again," as he
lurched
for the bushes. At least the moist air helped the recovery.
"I hope you don't get sea-sick" a female said behind him.
"Sea sick? What's that?" Stefan's mind, still twirling, was trying
to figure
out what Sea sick meant.
"You know, being sick on a ship. Out at sea."
Stefan stood dumbly looking at the woman. He had never been on anything
bigger than a riverboat fishing. And though he had heard rumors of
the open
seas he had never seen anything bigger than the river.
"Big, rolling ocean waves, the ship rocking back and forth, back and
forth,"
she continued with devilish smirk on her face.
The imagery was too much, and the back an forth, back and forth sent
his
stomach rolling again to find the bushes.
Steve
*Packed and Ready* thought La'rece. Glancing in the mirror,
the
red-haired Dragonsworn took a long evaluating look at her appearance.
It had
been years since she had donned true Arafellan clothes. The tiny
gold
and silver bells accented the carefully plaited hair with its bound
and
corded tresses creating a cascade of colors down her back. A
small
smile played across her mouth as she remembered a time over a hundred
years ago when a young girl arrived at the White Tower having crossed
one
of the most beautiful bridges she had ever seen into mighty Tar Valon.
Despite her noble upbringing, she had felt like a farmgirl compared
to
the regal grace and beauty borne by the Aes Sedai.
Now, a lifetime later, she was once again the image of an Arafellan
Lady. As part of this mission, it would be important for many
of the
Tower's members to pass themselves off as other than they were.
La'rece
would pose as a merchant and seek what answers she might find in Shara.
Making her way out of her apartments and across the lawn, La'rece saw
Elois, newly returned, with a smile on her face as she watched … *Oh,
Light! Is that Stefan?!* La'rece had lately taken to watching
how much
she drank at the Tower's festivities. Even with a herd of Yellows
around, a hangover was never pleasant.
"How's he?" La'rece asked walking up to the other woman, the barely
concealed hilarity evident in her tone.
Lauren
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
"How's he?" La'rece murmured, her voice laced with laughter. The
Arafellan was one of those people that could arrive soundlessly at
a person's
side and startle them. Although today she had bells on, Elois had not
noticed
them over the sound of the rain and Stefan rustling around in the bushes.
"It's too soon to tell, don't you think?
He might survive this
morning, but I can't vouch for how he'll do on board a sea-faring vessel.
I
shouldn't have teased him," Elois said contritely. "The Light knows
I'm not
in a teasing mood. Oh, there's Ariana." The White beckoned to the former
Yellow, who approached with studied distaste of either the weather
or the
mission.
The three women exchanged pleasantries.
"Why didn't I think of that?"
Elois clucked, gesturing to the shield Ariana had woven. Even as she
spoke,
she wove one for herself, although by this time she was as damp as
she could
be.
"It was certainly clever of the M'Hael
to send us out on a mission to
fetch his 'angreal the very night after a rousing party." Elois pointed
out
at one point. The few straggling Storm Team members who made their
way to the
Yard seemed as nauteous as Stephan, or sheerly ill-tempered. The men
and
women clustered in a little knot, saidar or saidin keeping the majority
dry.
There was high-spirited chatter, mostly
be the men still exultant over
the change of their fates. Elois teased Ariana about Servalien at the
party
last night while they waited for the illustious Mura'shar to appear.
Hannah
~There's something in my eyyyyyyeeeee
*Thud.* *Thud.* What was that pounding? Ariana
pulled a pillow over head, but the noise continued. Growling, she
threw the pillow at the door, where it hit with an audible whump and then
tumbled to the floor. She had been up way too late at that drunken
revelry last night, and right now she wanted her sleep. Only after
about fifteen minutes had passed- and incidentally, she was just drifting
off comfortably- did she recall that they were leaving today. *I
think if I could remember how to speak, I'd swear,* she thought as she
climbed hastily out of bed and hobbled around. Thank the Light she
had packed last night, after returning from the party. She had stayed
up far later than she usually did, because after declining to dance she
had pulled Serv into conversation instead. He had told her of the
rumors that the next mission was in Shara, and had also given her his description
of the Taint and its removal- which as a Healer and as a channeler she
found fascinating. Snatching up her packs, she scrambled as fast
as was possible down to the "Gateway Yard" and hoped she hadn't missed
anything.
Apparently, she hadn't. *Whew! Thank
the Light.* She threw up a hasty shield against the rain and settled
in to wait with the rest of the Tower chosen for this mission.
Eeep! So sorry for the delay! Real life just jumped up
and bit me... and boy does it have sharp teeth!
~Erin
Anastin stood in the Tower yard enjoying the feel of cold rain on his
face. People moved everywhere at once, some stood in small knots of
dry air
talking quietly. Some not so quietly. But nowhere he looked did he
see a face
to spark memory. No one he recognized.
The M'Hael had listened to the story
of his capture and Gentling at
the hands of the Reds without giving any indication as to weather he
beleaved
it or not. If he looked in the Tower records he would find more then
one
account of Asha'man lost years ago on recruiting trips. And Anastin
had surly
been an Asha'man once, he knew things, many things only a Guardian
could
know. Anastin didn't really think the M'Hael cared if it was true or
not. He
couldn't Channel anymore and so posed no threat. He wondered how long
it take
to prove loyalty in the eyes of his once-brothers. How long before
he would
be given back the gift of life. Life like only the One Power could
make it.
He was tired of being dead.
Regaining his grip on the present, not
easy when lost in memories of
the Power, he wiped the look of longing from his face and wondered,
not for
the first time, why he was being sent out with this group. No one here
knew
him, surely they couldn't know he had been to Shara before, if only
once. He
guessed it was simply a convenient way for the M'Hael to test him.
Which was
fine, he knew his own worth and was sure others would see it as well?
Even if
he couldn't touch the Source. That would come again soon. He was soon
lost
again in memories as he waited.
Jerimy
Flashes of lightening lit the sky, thunder cracking moments later.
Rivlets of water ran down tunnels dug into the hard packed earth
creating
puddles and other walking hazards. Tareena hopped over one such
obstruction
and made her way over to a group of men. they had stopped loading
supplies
and were standing around talking. Upon seeing her approach they
immediately
dropped their playful banter and resumed their duties. Today,
everyone
seemed to be keeping a watchful eye on the Dragonsworn. She was
in a
foul
mood and they knew it. Rumor had it that she and the M'hael had
exchanged
words during a war council held late the night before. Not only
did
the
Storm Team have to leave on a mission the day after their return from
one,
but her bondmate was being assigned to another Storm Team due to a
shortage
of Ashaman. She was more than displeased and obviously having
a tough
time
not taking it out on everyone else.
Tareena moved away from the men and stopped
to stare at the
gathered
people. She looked from place to place, eyeing the activity and
mentally
checking it off the list she carried in her hand. It was her
responsibility
to make sure everything and everyone made it through the gateway.
Bad
weather or no, it must be done. Walking to the left it
brought her
within
speaking distance of a group of Dragonsworn. Under normal
circumstances it
might have been amusing to listen to their conversation but today she
just
nodded and kept on going. One of the women detached themselves
from
the
group and layed her had gently on Tareena's arm. With no preliminaries
she
spoke. "I heard about darren's reassignment, you must be chewing
nalis
on
the inside. Just remember to chew it there and not on someone
else."
Tareena turned her cool green eyes down to the hand on her arm and
back
into
the face of the Arrafellan. For an instant Tareena let the pint
up
anger and
emotion blaze from her eyes. Then the curtain came back down
and she
cooly
removed her arm from La'rece's hand. There were not many people
who
would
approach her and still few more that would have the audacity to do
so
in such
a manner. However, if anyone could get away with it, it was La'rece.
Tareena had a great deal of respect for the blademaster. She
let that
respect replace the anger in her gaze. With a nod she acknowledged
the
advice and her intent to listen to it then moved out of range.
Tareena
took
a deep breath and tried to put on, if not a pleasant face, then one
that did
not immediately make others want to run the opposite direction.
Lisa~ Tareena De'Haviland
Guardian of the Black Tower
Bondmate to MIA Ashaman Darren Sadke
The tolling of a deep bell and the resounding echoes woke Durial from
a sleep that he was just as happy to leave, until he realized where
he was.
He rolled over quickly and hopped to his feet, a knife in each hand.
Light,
you fool, you're a doddering old cook, remember? He had to remember
this, no
matter what. Durial was a man of many valuable secrets, all of
which he
meant to keep secrets as long as he could.
Slipping his knives back to their hidden
sheathes, he quickly assumed
his hunched over, obsequious gait, and went out to check the supplies.
He smiled as he rummaged through all
of the bags. If it wasn't for
his secrets, he's never have been selected to join this mission to
far off
Shara. I guess that my cooking won't stay a secret much longer,
he thought
wryly to himself. He had refined his culinart arts by himself
out in the
Mountains, and by now he could cook just about anything and make it
taste
good. The memories of the people raising their bowls of soup
to him during
the last celebration made the corners of his mouth twitch as he snapped
another pack shut.
The others were waking up, slowly, but
surely. Some slower than
others. Most of those were those that had taken too much of the
Tower's ale
and not enough of his soup to spread things out. Durial grimaced
as his own
stomach twisted momentarily. Good job, old man, and you're one
to talk. So
he stood quietly beside the horses as the Storm Team filed slowly towards
the
take off spot.
--Josh, AKA many names that can't be mentioned here
They were not moving as quickly as Mura'shar would have liked.
Of
course, many of the men were obviously hung over from the celebration
the
previous night. And some of the women as well. Mura'shar
sipped at
his
willowbark tea. It tasted vile, but it seemed to help him think
more
clearly.
He and Myiona had already Traveled to Tear, where
the Sea Folk
raker Sea
Star was waiting. They stowed their belongings, and she was making
further
preparations while Mura'shar went back to check on the progress.
Conditions
would be a bit crowded on board. The Athan Miere did not often carry
so
many
passengers at once. And they had cargo of their own.
And I'm sure Myiona was only playing at being innocent
too. She
hadn't
said so in so many words, but he suspected she knew ahead of time that
they
would be sharing a cabin. Not that he minded. He just wish he
knew
ahead of
time.
One Soldier. Stefan, he recalled, was being
noisily sick in the
bushes.
It wasn't the first time that morning either, obviously.
Mura'shar filled a second cup of tea and brought
it to the
suffering man.
"Here drink this, but slowly. It tastes like I got
it from a
washtub, but
it should help some"
He was suddenly struck with an inspiration.
He looked about, and
found
one of the servants, a cook who had recently joined them. He
stopped
the man
and pressed the remaining willowbark into his hands.
"Once we're on board, I want you to make as much
tea as you can
from
this. Strong tea. And I want everyone who had too good
a time last
night to
drink some of this. A hangover's bad enough here. But once
we're out
to
sea, it would be an absolute nightmare"
Jake
M'Hael
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
An hour or so later, Talia was ready to leave on this mission.
She had showered (ah, the luxury!), eaten a good breakfast, and.. well,
participated in a little bit of "exercise" before she was REALLY ready
to go. Once in the gathering, the Saldaean noticed how many other
people had had a good time the night before. She, herself, was experiencing
a bit of hang over, but she tried to ignore it as much as possible.
Talia noticed some of the people who had been here when she left on
her self-appointed mission of vengeance (that never accomplished anything),
and she nodded to several familiar faces. Strutting through the crowd
as they awaited the M'Hael's orders to move out, Talia caught Alan's eye
from where he was conferring with other Marked Asha'man and smiled in her
normally wry and sarcastic manner. She felt his emotions stir within
her mind.. or were those emotions her own? The double bond often
confused her.
As she walked through the crowd, she saw a younger one.. one she had
not seen before.. focusing so hard on a stick she held that Talia thought
the stick would wither just at the sight. "You know," she said in
her confident voice to the other woman, "we could hire an artist to paint
a picture of that stick for you, if you want.." Sarcasm, true, but
that was merely Talia's nature. The other woman was clearly trying
to do something with Saidar, but it wasn't working. Talia's curiosity
led her to say something, just to see what the girl would say.
~Talia Daimar
<><
Okay my name is Jerimy Abbott. I'm 24. Just got out of the army after
4
I like camping, skiing, swimming (Used to be a lifeguard) skydiving,
reading,
Jerimy
Myiona sat down upon the lone chair in the tiny cabin and ran a
The dream had been so vivid, but the Domani
had thought it was the
It was not until a day or so later, when Myiona
was able to leave
When the others returned from the Blight, it
had been simple to
Vicky
Raileine was at the point that she was ready to break the stick and
- Jamie
Durial accepted the willowbark from Mura'shar with a thoughtful nod
of
As Elois filed through the gateway, chatting to La'rece and the
"Light have mercy..." Elois breathed,
upon being led into the belly of
Hannah
Stefan sipped the nasty tasting brew that the M'hael handed him, and
though
Steve(yes, I'm drawing on my experience with a fishing trip that my
brother
The cool breeze lifted Tareena's shoulder length hair and fanned it
Jake
Durial looked out over the harbor of Tear with a grimace. As a
Talia looked at the small piece of bark that still remained on her arm.
<<"Oh Light!" She whispered and curtsied deeply after stumbling
to
"What? Were you trying to make it dance or freeze it with your
stare
"Okay, kid.. What were you really trying to do with that stick?
Burn
~Talia Daimar, Dragonsworn
Though she heard her bondmate enter the room, and felt him long
"Myiona, we've been bonded to each other long
enough to know
Myiona told her story to Mura'shar as
briefly as possible,
As she considered what repercussions this could
have, she pulled
Vicky
Somewhat shakily Raileine took the scented wood and breathed it in.
- Jamie/Raileine
For a long moment, Mura'shar was quiet. He didn't know too much
Jake
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
Alcinia got on board the ship only moments before it left the dock.
The thief hurried below deck and stowed her pack in one of the tiny
Alcinia
As the deck rolled with the gentle ebb of the sea Anastin sat upon the
Jerimy
Myiona thought about the things Mura'shar had said. It was true
"I do not think everyone has to know,"
Myiona admitted, "since it
She looked at the ring on her finger and sighed.
"I suppose I
The dragonsworn looked at her bondmate and
smiled. "Do you think
Vicky
"It's been too long, too long!" the La'rece Barata'gan shouted with
a
Though having grown up in the hills and mountains of Arafel, the former
Frankly, La'rece did not give two wits about Shara. By all accounts,
a
With a nod to both the Wavemistress and her Windfinder, La'rece took
As she made her way down the ladder leading to the passageway where
her
La'rece had not seen Myiona since she came onboard and headed directly
Lauren
OOC: In reading through the RPs I've received, it appears that
I've
The large ship slipped it's moors and was racing for the open sea. At
first
Steve(by the way, does anyone have any idea how many days were going
to be on
Aramis knew better than to untie his hair and let it blow in the damp
James aka Aramis
"Blood and ashes!" Mura'shar growled when he heard the knock.
Jake
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
Mura'shar strolled along the deck. Everyone seemed to be more
or
Another note: I have been asked a couple of times how long the trip
Jake
To La'rece, Myiona looked like she wanted to throttle her. The
Glancing from Mura'shar to Myiona, La'rece declined to enter the
With a wink and a smirk, Mura'shar responded, "No complaint here,
Just as the Dragonsworn was about to reply the ship crested a
The Asha'man chuckled. Despite her outwardly jaunty attitude about
the
La'rece could clearly see the expression on Myiona's face behind
Shaking his head, Mura'shar said, "'Afternoon practice'? What
was THAT
"I think I know" Myiona said softly. Turning around to ask Myiona
what
Lauren
Tareena nodded her approval at the novitiate and moved on down the
OOC:: If any female character needs a lesson feel free to jump
into
Lisa~Tareena De'Haviland
The sea stretched out endlessly in a beautiful carpet of blue, but all
~~~~~~~~~~~~OOOOOOOOO~~~~~~~~~~~
Looking up at the swaying ceiling, Durial
groaned to himself. He
**Note** Sorry about the length folks. The story took the
control that I
Manetherenjosh
Warder of the Fourth Dragon Reborn
"God save Fairfield!"
"The price of a memory
Stephen was sick. Sick of the taunts. Sick of the boat. Sick of some
of the
Steve(Hoping he didn't step on Jake's toes.)
It only took a couple of days for the boredom of sea voyage to push
James aka Aramis
After an interminable period at sea, Elois was forced to shed the
Hannah
"That was good," Mura'shar said thoughtfully," but why don't we start
with something easier.Form the void again and this time do as I tell you."
Jake
Making the fire float above his hand was easy enough. Alan had beat
that one in his head long enough that he could heat his own water and meals
with minimal effort. The bigger and smaller took more concentration as
he did not want to repeat the last time he attempted this when he "earned"
his blisters with an out of control blaze. The dimming and brightening
part took more effort and several trys before he heard Mura'shar grunt
something.
Steve
La'rece was feeling considerably better. The fresh air seemed
to make the difference between being green-faced and suffering below decks
or being exhilarated above decks, the invigorating sea breeze gusting about.
Walking about the deck, La'rece spotted Mura'shar and a newer Tower
member. The former Green seemed to recall that his name was Stephen,
newly arrived at the Black Tower. They appeared to be working on
something. Most likely channeling exercises. The thought did
not bother the Arafellan at all. She was more than comfortable with
men who could channel at this point.
Making her way over to the two men, La'rece said, "How's it going?"
The two men turned to the Dragonsworn, the new man eyeing her warily.
La'rece's dark leather breeches, boots, bright blouse and bright leather
vest combined with red hair pulled back and the sword on her back made
for quite a picture. Smiling, Mura'shar said, "It's going.
We were just discussing … life at the Tower, basically. You know,
the lay of the land and all."
Arching an eyebrow and chuckling, La'rece responded, "Well, now … there's
a topic for a heated discussion! Well, I didn't mean to interrupt
but was curious as to how Myiona's doing?"
"She's doing as well as might be expected. It may take a while
for her to feel completely back to sorts." Then to add more comfort,
Mura'shar added, "Perhaps she'll come up on deck later."
With an understanding smile, La'rece said, "Perhaps later." Turning
a mischievous eye on Stephen, the Dragonsworn added, "Watch this one, Mura'shar.
On such a long journey, he just might find himself snared by some lonesome
Dragonsworn."
The look on the man's face was priceless. Giving him a pat on
the arm to let him know she was joking, La'rece caught a glimpse of Elois
almost falling overboard. Giving Mura'shar a soft punch on the arm,
the Dragonsworn smiled and said, "Later" and left the two men to continue
their lesson.
*****
La'rece found her fellow Dragonsworn looking rather prim, if a trifle
tight around the eyes. It never failed to amaze La'rece how some
women could look beautiful even when faced with disaster …or sea sickness.
Shaking her head and smiling to herself, La'rece approached Elois.
"So, Elois … how's goes the journey?"
Lauren
Myiona Shallon sat quietly in her cabin, her mind engrossed in the
After she felt drained, the Dragonsworn released
the source with a
Seeing that Mura'shar was occupied with giving
a lesson, Myiona walked
Vicky
Mura'shar did his best to reassure the Soldier
Jake
Stefan looked at land and was off the ship as soon as the mooring line
were tied down. He didn't care about the robed visitor, all he cared about
was the sure footedness of solid ground. Though as he took in the sights
of the walled city and the breeze from the air, he still couldn't help
but notice that the land seemed to still have an unnerving sway to it.
Steve
The shout of the Sea Folk woman in the little tub that Durial thought
was absurdly high off of the deck brought his attention to the front of
the ship.
(feel free to help make a second running
adventure out of this one, folks)
Warder of the Fourth Dragon Reborn
"God save Fairfield!"
"The price of a memory
Tareena sighed and looked out across the sea of humanity pressing along
the docks and spilling out from the market. Crowds always bothered
her and this one was no exception. If anything, this one was worse.
The secrecy which surrounded the Sharans was enough to set her teeth on
edge. It was enough that they had to come to this light blasted city
where slim to none is known about its people, let alone try to make sure
that none of the Storm Team violated any of the rules without knowing.
It was a toss up whether or not she should go with Mura'shar or keep on
eye on the others getting ready to move throughout the market. La'rece
had agreed to watch the ships and for that Tareena was grateful.
One less thing to worry about for Tareena trusted the Arafellan completely.
She had just about decided to go with Mura'shar when she spotted two Soldiers
and a few initiates begin to disembark the ship and head out. Now
there is an accident waiting to happen, she thought to herself. The
light knows, I should probably keep an eye on them. Her decision
made for her, Tareena moved down the gang plank at a sedate walk, just
in case.
Lisa~aka Tareena De'Haviland
Myiona watched the Narnek through her lashes. She had been trained
Their guide was dangerous because he was able
to shroud himself in
The Dragonsworn touched Mura'shar's arm lightly.
"I go with you," she
The group moved down the gang plank, Myiona
noting the bustling
Narnek led them quickly through a portion of
the market and into a
The rest of the goods they had passed had been stacked
neatly and
"Mura'shar," Myiona said softly, "they fear
these objects for some
Vicky
"Mura'shar," Myiona said softly, "they fear these objects for some
Jake
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
Serv couldn't overcome his upbringing and leave a woman alone to guard
their vessel, no matter how accomplished a fighter and Channeler she was,
so he took up station to her left, one hand on his sword, eyeing the endless
cowled throng that trekked past the gangway to the White Star. His black
jacket was buttoned to his chin fastidiously, no matter the heat. The young
Soldier practiced disregarding the weather, the trick that was circulating
among the newly recruited members of the Black Tower to avoid sweating
and freezing your nose off.
Elois turned reluctantly away from the
stoicly blue Mura'shar, and bent to scoop up a lavendar velvet jewelry
bag. She loosened the strings and poured a simply designed moonstone ring
into her palm. The gem was the size of her thumbnail, a startlingly clear
and pretty blue color, and set in antiqued silver. Elois slipped it on
her ring finger, and held it up to catch the unreliable light.
Stefan headed out into the market with the others. Eyeing wares from
a different country was interesting, but Stefan began to feel the sun on
his head a little to much. Stopping at a merchant who was covered in a
cowl, Stefan eyed baskets of fruit which were covered in thorn. Paying
a couple of coppers the vendor quickly removed the thorns and skin, handing
Stefan a very wet lump of musy fruit. The taste of the fruit was bland,
and the juice ran red over his hands. But the fruit juice did chase away
the thirst. Telling the other team members to hold up, Stefan ran back
to the vendor to buy three more, unshaved.
Steve
Farendar nodded slightly and the innkeeper refilled his companion's
tankard, but he put his hand over his own mug when the swarthy man gestured
at his barely touched drink. The innkeeper moved on and Farendar
brought his full attention back to the fork-bearded Karandori sitting across
the table from him. A particulary opulent pearl earring on his left
side marked him as a wealthy merchant; Kandori noblemen who might also
wear such an earring had no place is Shara. His slightly slurred
speech came easily now.
"...and no one knows what they're here for, by the
Light. Just sailed into port, met some Sharan and disappeared.
A few went to the market and a few stayed with the ship, but no one can
tell me what happened to the others." The Kandori took a long swallow
of ale and brought the vessel down stoutly. "Imagine! Prancing
around the Sharan market with swords displayed so openly. Mark my
words, that group at least will be watched closely. Probably won't
hear anything useful about them now," he muttered, retreating back to his
tankard.
Farendar sighed. No new information there.
Indeed, he had run into some difficulty trying to find reliable information
in this town at all until he happened to chance upon this inn that catered
specifically to outlanders. That problem solved, he found it much
easier to coax information out of others than it was to try and discover
it on his own. He had to wonder, though, how the innkeeper managed
to stay in business under a Sharan government that surely must not take
to well to having a foreign-owned establishment inside its walls, but if
Farender had to venture a guess, it was probably by selling information;
this seemed to be a regular stopping place for outlander merchants, and
not because the ale was all that special either.
He got up, nodded to the Kandori and left a few silver
peices on the tabe to cover the drinks. Still, he had to be careful
even here despite there not being a Sharan in the room. Just a few
minutes earlier, a Saldaen fur-trader claimed in all honesty to have heard
from a "reliable source" that there was a blue man among the group that
had disappeared. Absolute rubbish! The man was probably half
Sharan himself....
Moving to the door, Farendar retrieved his cloak
hanging on the wall and emerged outside in a busy daylit street jammed
with cloaked figures going about whatever mysterious business they were
bent upon. At least he had discovered enough to determine what his
next course of action should be. /That *must* be them/, he thought.
After weeks of waiting, no other parties newly arrived had stirred so much
attention as this group, and other rumors suggested that a few women in
the group even had the ageless look of Aes Sedai; still other rumors noted
the golden serpent ring on a few fingers.
Farendar had to admit that the men made him a little
uneasy, though. From what he had been able to learn they it didn't
sound like they were Warders. But even so, he did not doubt they
were dangerous, and that was what troubled him. Back on the mainland,
he had been hearing hushed whispers about black-coated men who rode Death
the way others rode horses. And there was that abominable amnesty
the Dragon Reborn had declared. He fervently hoped this lot wasn't
somehow connected, though he couldn't see how that could be if Aes Sedai
were involved.
Unfortunately, either way it made no difference;
he had a job to do.
His mind made up, Farendar threaded his way through
the throng back to his inn for the scant belongings he had aquired for
this trip. It /was/ them, and they had arrived on a Sea Folk ship.
And the Sea Folk, he had heard, could not refuse any but Aes Sedai the
Right of Passage or whatever it was they properly called it. He just
needed a Gift in return, and something bought at the market would do nicely,
he thought.
Yes, things were beginning to look up, he thought,
fingering Cerie's locket absently. He just hoped he'd still be around
afterwards to tell about it.
Tim
Heat seemed to roll across the docks and the throngs crowding
the marketplace. La'rece was more than mildly impressed with the
Sharans' ability to run about in their heavy, cowled robes. Of course,
any Dragonsworn or Asha'man could do as much having learned the age-old
Aes Sedai trick of ignoring external elements. Trouble was it made
it extremely difficult to observe the Sharans … or keep track of any particular
one. It all became a jumble unless one concentrated to the exclusion
of all else.
A young Asha'man took up station across the gangplank from La'rece.
Serv. Dragonsworn and Asha'man exchanged nods and continued to watch
the milling horde. With a frown La'rece continued her examination
of the crowd wondering idly if there were enough soap and perfume in the
town to obliterate the smell of sweaty horses that permeated the air of
the port.
While the day wore on, La'rece and Serv continued to watch. And
from a small curtained window high above them, they in turn were watched
…
Lauren
"Everyone start checking these out, make sure they are what we
came here
Myiona had just picked up a quite expensive looking
necklace, though she
The Dragonsworn had just stepped back to choose another
item, when she
This time, the Domani grabbed a small statue
and carried it over to a
The material it was made of seemed to resemble
pearl, but she could
Vicky
Voices swarmed around her, carried on the sultry, salty air of
the dockside market. Eddies carried individual words to the small
woman limping through the crowds, which she listened to with mild curiosity.
The accents were a bizarre mix of cultures, from Saldean to Sea Folk to
a strange muffled drawl that she assumed to be Sharan. Clothing,
too, varied wildly. The Sharans swayed voluminously along in their
head-to-toe embalming, while Sea Folk in sturdy gaudy clothes and bangles
jingled next to them, and the occasional Domani swayed by in filmy scandalous
things that seemed no more than strategically places scarves. All
in all, it made the poor Healer's head spin.
Erin, Ariana, Former Aes Sedai and Dragonsworn
Mura'shar breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the blue
tinge was slowly fading from his skin. A couple of hours earlier,
he had been a deep sea-blue. Now he was the blue of a celar sky.
In a few more hours, he may only look severely frostbitten. A fine
thing to happen to him, after he had warned the others about how dangerous
strange ter'angreal could be.
Jake
The golden sun shone brightly in the sky overhead causing Tareena
to lift a hand to her face to shield her eyes. The market was teeming
with people, each one in search of the perfect item to buy or trade.
Throngs moved in some sort of random pattern yet it seemed as though they
moved in tandem as well. Tareena kept one eye on the goods for sale,
hoping that something might catch her eye to by for her bondmate and one
eye on the Soldiers and Novitiates that she was trailing. So far,
none of them had gotten into any mischief and actually seemed to be behaving
themselves. Feeling like a baby-sitter, Tareena grimaced as she moved
around a pile of horse manure, freshly delivered from the horse and rider
a little ways ahead of her.
Lisa ~ Tareena De'Haviland
Darren was not working very hard at picking apart the weave Arran
was holding up for him. He could have unravelled it minutes ago. But he
was inordinately happy to be able to use the Power without the taint. Even
to the limited extent that he could. Fortunately, since he was DOING something
with it, he avoided the risk of becoming lost in it.
Luke,
Tareena broke through a crowd of people gathered around two Soldiers
and two Novitiates of the tower who seemed to have forgotten themselves
enough to be engaged in a shouting match with two robed Sharans. Just as
Tareena opened her mouth to demand an explanation one of the Novitiates
opened herself up to the source. Tareena immediately reacted and
severed the girls connection to Saidar. The girl gasped and turned,
anger painting her face a mottled purple until she saw Tareena moving towards
her, then it drained of all color. The four tower members stared
at their Guardian with nothing short of fear. Tareena could see in
their faces that they knew they were in trouble and lots of it.
Lisa ~ Tareena De'Haviland
When they were about halfway through with the ter'angreal, Mura'shar
decided to conclude part of the deal. He and Myiona began haggling
with the robed figures for what they had decided to keep.
Jake
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
OOC: Hey guys.. Sorry I've been so busy lately. *sigh*
I don't even have a job and I'm still very busy! I can't believe
it.. Oh well, anyway, I hope I do this right.. I don't have the time to
read every RP I missed, but I did skim 'em.. *hugs all* Oh, and Jake?
Would the title of this RP come from the Ferengi on some of the Star Trek
series?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She wondered what had happened to Aramis since they had reached this
light forsaken port, but was not about to go looking for him. If
he wanted to speak with her, she was sure he would be able to find her.
The soft whisking of the knife across the sharpening stone was soothing
to her. There were no trees near the dock, and she missed their familiar
presence. A tenseness in the air made her set the stone down and
look around.
Alcinia
"… and if I EVER have to address this subject with any of you again,
you'll each rue the day your mothers first kissed your fathers! Now
get through that Gateway or by my aged grandmother's …!" A sudden
commotion through the newly opened Gateway caught La'rece's attention.
Arran and Darran came hurtling through the aperture with the Gateway closing
behind them with a loud whoosh.
~So much for discretion and subtlety~ thought the Dragonsworn wryly.
Keeping the four miscreant Tower members in her sights, La'rece moved near
the edge of the gangway to see what was going on. A sudden explosion
picked the Arafellan up and flung her backward. In the ensuing commotion,
no one heard the splash as La'rece was thrown into the water.
Holding onto a barrel that had also been knocked into the water, La'rece
shouted up to the pier several feet above her. "Hello! Flaming
goat-faced, light forsaken … Hello!!"
*****
*****
Gathering her strength, La'rece prepared to call out again but was halted
by the sight of four familiar faces peering over the edge down at her,
grins on their faces.
Lauren
It hadn't taken long for Farendar to gather his scant belongings for
his journey. What had taken some time was finding the right item
for his gift of passage. /This is the right dock, so which ship is
it?/ Farendar mused, looking first at one Sea Folk raker, then another,
and then another; rakers were far from rare.
As if to answer his unvoiced question, a loud clap
issued from the raker to his right and he whipped his head around just
in time to see a woman suddenly arc over the side and splash into the water.
Rushing off to see if she was okay, he half noticed out of the corner of
his eye what he thought might have been a faint burst of light coming from
the deck of the ship, but it was so faint and so brief he wasn't sure he
had really seen it. The oddity flashed through his mind as he scanned
the water for the mysterious woman, then he saw her surface a ways ahead
of him and swim over to a barrel that had also fallen overboard.
He thought he heard her splutter something at the ship about a "flaming
rope". Up on the ship faces peered down at her over the rail.
"Guess that solves my little problem," Farendar muttered
nervously, glancing at the rope ladder on the dock leading up to the deck.
Aes Sedai. Breakers of the World. Farendar
knew little about Aes Sedai and avoided them as a rule. And if what
he suspected about the men was true.... But he had no choice in the
matter this time. He sighed, and began to climb.
Two Seafolk women were already waiting for him when
he climbed onto the deck. Both women were dressed in loose, elaborate
silk sashes, one in blue, the other in green; Farendar assumed these two
must be the Sailmistress and the Windfinder. Aloud he said, "I am
Farendar Orgunson of Saldea. I seek the Sailmistress of this vessel."
He hesiated. "And I wish to speak of passage, if it pleases the Light."
There were others on deck, but no one seemed to notice him, too busy were
they recovering from whatever commotion had taken place just a few moments
ago.
The two women shared an unreadable glance, then the
one in green said, "Be welcome aboard the White Star, Farendar Orgunson.
We shall speak of passage, if it pleases the Light." And they beckoned
him deeper into the creaking ship.
Elois was one of the Black Tower members who'd stayed behind to close
the transaction with the Sharans. She had a sack of coins in her palm,
which she bounced about so that the strange, robed figures understood that
they would be paid when the ter'angreal were completely packed and shipped
off, and not before. The sack seemed awfully heavy, but Elois trusted Mura'shar
and Myiona (especially) had not allowed theirselves to be swindled. Haggling
for prices was not a man's job, for sure.
Hannah
Mura'shar's joints were aching by the time he had the ter'angreal safely
(he hoped) stowed away. He decided he must be coming down with a
cold or something.
Jake
Tired from the hours of testing ter'angreal against the garbage the
The Domani glided across the deck to stand
away from the railing. The
Myiona stepped over to where Tareena was standing
and nodded to the two
Before going below deck, the Domani stopped
to speak with La'rece. She
Myiona walked over the Mura'shar and put a
hand on his shoulder. "I
Vicky
Stefan burst out laughing as soon as La'rece plopped herself into the
water. Looking at the other three tower members only confirmed the humor
of the situation. Hearing her cursing anyone for a rope all four leaned
over on the rail with huge grins on their faces.
Steve
Jaren Oriste glared at the robed Sharan as he stodd waiting for bags
to be brought for the remaining ter'angreal. ~ Fool Sharans don't even
give us what we need to carry the bloody ter'angreal.~ He had been left
behind with some of ther other members to finish the deal with the Sharans.
Jaren was sick of the robed Sharans and yearned to be somewhere else, anywhere
else, even the bloody Black Tower that he now called home.
Tareena stood still as a statue, drinking in the sight of her bondmate.
Though their separation hadn't been as long this time as the had first
been told it would, it had been long enough. She could see new lines
etched into Darren's face and new that he would have new adventures to
share with her late at night while they lay talking quietly. Tareena
could have been lost in staring at him forever but reality intervened when
she was jostled first one way, then another by the traffic of the docks.
After a third and a forth she threw caution to the winds and embraced saidar,
creating a shield around herself and her bondmate. She suppressed
an unaccustomed giggle at the sight of traders walking into her shield
of air and the surprise and consternation on their faces when they had
to go around. Tareena turned once more to her bondmate, catching
out of the corner of her eye a strange flash of green light but dismissing
it when she felt Darren's hand on her arm. Looking into his eyes
she saw the same love and longing she knew must be mirrored in her own
features. "Later" was all he said but it was enough. Nodding
her head, feeling her toes curl and her stomach tighten, she let go of
the shield and turned to walk back to the other members of the tower.
Noticing La'rece looking out of sorts and soaking wet she knew enough to
give her a wide berth. Tareena felt a soft tough on her arm and turned
to see Myiona. "Meet me in my cabin" she stated. With a sigh
of regret, Tareena said good-bye and hurried after her fellow Dragonsworn
and friend.
Lisa ~ Tareena De'Haviland
Using the rope to climb from the water to the dock, La'rece refused
additional help from the four and using the paving stones at the quay's
edge pulled herself the rest of the way up. "I will remember each
and every one of you," she whispered," and be sure that I do not see your
face for the rest of this day."
The foursome's leader, Stefan knew murder when he saw it, especially
on the face of a woman. He picked at the sleeves of the other two and motioned
the third to follow him.
Walking over to La'rece, Elois asked the soaked Dragonsworn, "What's
going on? What happened?" Barely suppressing a giggle, she added
"Do you really think this is a time to take a dip? I know it's hot, but..."
She kept a straight face, barely, as La'rece glowered back.
"A dip?!…" the Arafellan began in a low menacing voice. "Listen,
Elois …" But suddenly the absurdity of the incident and the genuine bemusement
on her fellow Dragonsworn's face made her think better of her reaction.
With a sigh, La'rece said, "Well, looking on the bright side, it's a fair
sight cooler now." A raised eyebrow and a quirk to her mouth marked
Elois' amused response to other Dragonsworn's words.
"Bloody flaming ter'angreal …" La'rece began before she regained her
new found composure. It was seldom that the Arafellan was caught
off guard. "Did you happen to see what … happened?"
Elois turned to scan the clusters of Tower members, Sea Folk, and the
ever-milling mass on the docks. "No, I didn't actually. I didn't
even know you had been … knocked over into … the water. But …"
"What?"
"Nothing really. I guess."
"Elois…!" La'rece began.
"Right. Well, I noticed a greenish glow that seemed to swell from
the deck. I was too far away to see anything clearly, but it seemed
as though a large green … bubble seemed to expand over everyone on the
ship's deck and the edge of the dock."
"I saw a greenish glow from down in the water. Probably one of
the ter'angreal too close to another or the after-effect of the explosion.
I'd bet my best saddle that the explosion was caused by the abrupt closing
of the Gateway!"
As La'rece stood ringing water out of her hair, she caught sight of
Myiona walking to stand off to the side away from the others. Myiona
gestured for La'rece to step over to her. Excusing herself from Elois,
La'rece strolled up to her friend and waited to hear what she had to say.
Looking around, Myiona spoke softly, "I need you to come to Mura'shar's
cabin. Immediately. I've asked Tareena the same. Bring
along one or two of the Dragonsworn you trust."
La'rece met her friend's eye. Trust was a word they tended to
use with gravity these days. With a silent nod to indicate she both
understood the importance of the request and her understanding that something
was amiss, La'rece turned around and walked back over to Elois.
"Well, I'd ask what all that was about but I can see by your expression
that you're not likely to tell me a thing, La'rece."
With a cocked smile, the Arafellan replied, "I can tell you this much
… I've been requested to join a meeting in Mura'shar's cabin … immediately."
Elois took on a thoughtful expression and nodded slowly. "And you're
to join us!" The sudden widening of Elois' eyes made her laugh as
she took her fellow Dragonsworn's arm and escorted her below decks to Mura'shar's
quarters.
Lauren
"A dip?!…" the Arafellan began in a low menacing voice. "Listen,
Elois..."
Hannah
Elois and a still-dripping La'rece were coming aboard just as Mura'shar
was stepping off. The sight of La'rece would explain why those other
Soldiers boarded with such haste. She was one of the more dangerous
members of the Black Tower, and did not appear to be in a good mood.
Jake
When Myiona reached her cabin, she moved things out of the way to clear
A knock sounded at the door and the Dragonsworn
went to open it,
"La'rece," she asked slowly trying to word
things carefully to avoid
Vicky
Looking around at the reassembled members of the Storm Team, Durial
sighed. The shopping trip had been mainly a waste of time, resulting
in nothing but a few thorny pieces of fruit which Stefan had delegated
out to his fellow shoppers. And even though the Sharans had a reputation
to sell women like fruit, he hadn't seen a bloody one throughout the whole
market. Well, you've survived years by yourself, what difference
would a woman make now? With a grim smile, he answered his own thought:
Just another weakness.
Sitting towards the front of the Seafolk ship, and keeping a conspicuous
eye out for La'rece, Durial hit his three companions with a question of
great importance.
Steve
When Myiona reached her cabin, she moved things out of the way to clear
off
A knock sounded at the door and the Dragonsworn went
to open it, letting
"La'rece," she asked slowly trying to word things
carefully to avoid the
Vicky
Tareena waited expectantly on the floor, hand folded into her lap so
that she wouldn't show her unease. Linking was never easy under the
best of times but it was extremely hard for Tareena. Giving up control
to someone else was a vulnerability that she didn't like. Still,
she trusted the women seated around her and knew that it was a good idea.
She opened herself to the source, feeling the power fill her with sweetness
and ecstasy. At La'rece's nod, she took a deep breath and let herself go,
feeling herself joining into the circle. It had begun.
Lisa~ Tareena De'Haviland
La'rece met her friend's eye for a long moment. Some of the newer
Dragonsworn were not familiar with La'rece Barata'gan, but in this room
sat three women who knew something of the Arafellan's cloudy history.
In particular, Myiona. Though the two women had both been in the
White Tower, they nevertheless had not met prior to doing so as members
of the Black Tower. Though Aes Sedai do not speak of their ages,
La'rece suspected that she had worn the shall close to a hundred years
before her friend had arrived at the Shining Walls of Tar Valon.
No doubt Myiona suspected it as well.
La'rece's occasional references to her adventuresome past, both fighting
along the Borderlands and hunting the Black Ajah, had led to a great deal
of speculation. Often she overheard the most startling abilities
associated with her. The more audacious talents were laughed away,
but it was the darker talents she was suspected of having that had caused
her to be concerned on occasion. Years earlier, Ivan Gregorian had
told her not to worry. No one in their right mind would think that
La'rece Barata'gan served the Dark One. Light help the person who
even hinted that she might! The very thought of someone serving Shai'tan
made her blood run cold and her hand twitch for the sword that often adorned
her.
But recalling the question before her, La'rece weighed how much to reveal.
The ability to eavesdrop was not so much a talent as a trick. A trick
not shared about in the White Tower for obvious reasons. But these
women were her friends … and her allies. ~Let them see. Let
them learn. Let them grow stronger for it.~
Nodding her head, La'rece held out her hands. Tareena took hand
then grasped Myiona's right. Elois hesitated only a moment before
taking La'rece's and Myiona's hands. Taking a deep breath La'rece
channeled …
One by one and very quickly, the three women brought into the circle
La'rece controlled. Focusing the flows, La'rece spun out a hair-thin
strand of Spirit and Air with the lightest touch of Water and Earth.
Careful so as not to collapse the flow, the Arafellan … flipped the weave
… making it all invisible to all but the four women linked together.
Anyone who was looking for channeling would eventually detect the weave
but not before the group was well finished with their search.
Carefully, La'rece directed the thread out of a porthole in the cabin,
above the water and dock and toward the Sharan stronghold ~We'll just see
what we can hear and learn from these Sharan~ …
Lauren
Pain stabbed at Mura'shar's eyes and temples. His joints ached.
There was nothing he would have liked better than to lie down and take
a nap. But Myiona was having some sort of Dragonsworn meeting and
neeeded their cabin. So he contented himself with walking along the
harbor and some nearby shops. He hoped the fresh air would do him
some good. Maybe I should talk to Ariana about some Healing.
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
The women spent hours trying to find out what the Sharans were trying
"Ter'angreal," she murmured finally wobbling
to her feet. The threat
Not looking to see if the others joined her,
Myiona went down to the
Vicky
Here is part one, if anyone wants to jump in feel free. Just leave
me
"…told him that if he wanted them, well he could …" "…no, ma'am!
It shall be as you direct…." "…every one thinks so. Don't you?…"
On and on and on the thread spun through the various buildings and chambers
in Shara seeking out some indication of what the secretive inhabitants
of the walled city intended toward the Black Tower's Storm Team.
The four women sat listening, their eyes fixed and glazed as the weave
wound through chamber after chamber … seeking.
Just as La'rece was about to conclude the weave, the thread happened
upon a group of Sharans, officials by the sound and tone of their voices.
"… they'll not suspect a thing until it is too late!" sneered one of
the Sharans, his high voice rasping.
"What happens if they do?" asked a deep bass-voiced man. "What
happens if they discover what we've given them and return?"
"Return?! If they react half as effectively as our test subjects,
they'll be dead long before they could ever return." The steady voice
of the woman was frightening in its conviction. "The ter'angreal
is quite reliable and effective and … deadly. My agents tell me that
they've already triggered the device and that the majority of those standing
nearby were … infected."
"What of the others?" the high-voiced Sharan inquired.
"It will be simply a matter of time before the device is once again
triggered. It has a delayed reaction to channeling, seeming to perform
a different task than its true purpose, then, perhaps an hour or so later,
it discharges a radiant pulse leaving everyone able to channel within its
range infected." The woman seemed quite pleased with herself.
"Is there a cure?" the man with the deep voice asked.
"There may be a cure, yet we have not discovered it … and there is no
time for them to do so either!"
A shudder running through the ship broke the women's concentration.
The raker was leaving port. Quickly respinning the thread, La'rece
once again sought out the three Sharan officials. After a short time
it became apparent that they would not be able to do so as the Sea Folk
vessel glided swiftly out of the harbor and out to sea.
Looking at each other, their faces carved in stone, Myiona, Tareena,
Elois and La'rece wondered what on earth the team had brought on board
with them. The Sharans had discovered some relic of the Age of Legends
capable of destroying men and women who can channel by giving them some
disease … some plague. And now they were heading back to the Black
Tower and they had no idea where to find their "gift" from the Sharans.
"Ter'angreal," murmured Myiona as she got to her feet. "Bloody
Sharans!" Without looking backward, Myiona left the cabin, her purpose
plain.
With the briefest glance at each other, the remaining three Dragonsworn
followed. They would find this thing that threatened them.
Lauren
"Blood and bloody ashes, woman!" Yes, Talia had been taught that
filthy words rarely escaped a gentleman's mouth.. and never -ever- a lady's.
Of course, she'd never really considered herself a Lady. This was
her fifth session with the Initiate.. or was it the billionth? She
couldn't tell. Talia rubbed her temple irritably. They were
on their way home now, on what seemed to be (to Talia) a trip that could
have done without her. What had she done except just stay on the
ship and make sure the Sea Folk didn't strand them here? Was this
a headache coming on? Had she been monitoring the Initiate's progress
(or lack thereof) with too much strain? If only Talia could bring
herself to concentrate better.. her mind felt filled with cotton.
Myiona looked up, thankful that the other women had followed her into
Crate after crate was checked as the
ship slowly glided through the
A gasp from the other side of the hold as one
of them came into contact
As Myiona pulled a piece of fabric away, her
hand touched the object
As she reached the rail, she heard and shout
and the ship lurched
Myiona grabbed at the two ter'angreal and tried
to hurl them into the
"NO!" the Domani screamed as she hit the surface
of the water. She
Vicky
"Out of my bloody way, fool!" La'rece Barata'gan charged up on
deck. "Flaming, bloody goat-snouted …!" Running to the rail, La'rece
whipped off her sword and dove into the waters below. Those nearby
heard her mutter something about 'twice in one flaming day.'
An Asha'man joined the Dragonsworn in the water as she hauled her friend
toward the heeling ship. Even though the vessel had only just started
its acceleration, it was no easy task to bring the Raker around to where
the trio floated. A cargo net was lowered as was a sling to pull
the now unconscious Myiona up on deck.
La'rece was joined by Mura'shar as she knelt next to Myiona. "Get
me Elois! Now!" the Arafellan barked at a Soldier. La'rece
was in full battle mode. They were on a killing field afloat at sea.
Delving her friend, La'rece quickly assessed the situation. Myiona
was alive, if barely. Also, it was evident that the fall from the
ship into the water was not the cause of her condition.
As Elois ran up, La'rece stood and met her eyes. Something had
happened with the ter'angreal. Something bad. "You must save
her, Elois."
"La'rece …" the other Dragonsworn began.
"Just do it. Please" La'rece said softly yet firmly.
Turning around searching, La'rece's eyes found the ship's captain and
her windfinder. "Your cabin. Clear it out. Now."
The clear command in the Arafellan's voice had the Wavemistress moving
to obey before catching herself.
"I think not, Aes Sedai" the woman replied, her arms crossed, her feet
firmly planted on the Raker's deck.
Standing before the woman, practically nose-to-nose, La'rece smiled
coldly. "I think so" she said calmly.
"Listen, you daughter of the sand …!" the Wavemistress began.
"No, you listen … and hear me well, woman! Someone has made an
attempt on the life of my friend and quite possibly the rest of my group,
and until I have completely ruled out your involvement or complacency in
the matter, you and your entire crew are suspect." La'rece turned
her back on the other woman who gave the Dragonsworn a look few men would
turn their back on for fear of sudden death. Without looking at the
ship's captain, the Dragonsworn added over her shoulder, "And if you don't
want to test your ability to swim to the nearest shore from wherever we
are, you and your Windfinder and the rest of your crew will do exactly
as your told or you will answer to me."
Mura'shar walked up to La'rece speaking softly, "That, I fear, was ill-advised,
La'rece." The Dragonsworn angled her head toward the Asha'man and
raised an eyebrow. "I don't trust these people any more than you,
but I'm telling you now as your commander, do not invoke the Tower's power
without consulting me. Do you understand?"
Stopping, next to Myiona's prone body and the kneeling Elois, La'rece
said, "Elois, the captain has graciously offered her cabin. Please
have Myiona taken there straight away. I'll join you shortly."
Turning back to Mura'shar, her anger in check but still hot, La'rece spoke
softly, "I understand, Mura'shar. But I wonder, do you?" Then,
pitching her voice for his ear alone, she added, "Be prepared to Travel
back to the Tower in a hurry because the first indication that these people
are either darkfriends or conspirators and I'm sending this ship and them
to the bottom of the sea."
Turning away from Mura'shar, La'rece was met with a tight-lipped Tareena.
"Oh, light" the Arafellan sighed. "Can we discuss this in the captain's
cabin, Tareena. It wouldn't be particularly beneficial for our reputation
to have you peel my hide in front of the Sea Folk, then again …"
Tareena continued to meet the other Dragonsworn's eyes, sparks dancing
from her own. La'rece could feel the reprimand approaching like a
battle-ready battalion of Shienaran knights.
"Go. Now." Tareena gestured for La'rece to precede her down
to the captain's quarters.
~Not good. But what must be endured, can be. Light willing~
First things first, though. Myiona was in dire straits and there
was the issue of the effects of the mysterious ter'angreal to consider
and solve.
Lauren
They were finally on their way home. The Dragonsworn meeting had
ended at last and Mura'shar was able to reclaim his bed and get some sleep.
All was right with the world...
Tareena moved through the members of the tower that had gathered on
the deck, directing them to move and go back to what they were doing.
Tareena had turned to Mura'shar but realizing that he was in no shape to
make decisions, she took charge. La'rece had taken Myiona below with
Eloise. Tareena had also sent a soldier to find Arianna. If
her and Eloise cannot heal her then it could not be done. Tareena
asked her bondmate to gather the Ashaman and Soldiers to get a tally of
who was feeling the effects of the Ter'angreal. She then marched
down the stairs to the captain's cabin.
Lisa ~Tareena DeHavilan
"Try it again.. and this time.. be careful not to fry anything important."
Talia told Rai, and she suddenly felt slighted by this Dragonsworn. *It's
not like I meant to sing her hair! I just don't have any bloody flaming
control over anything I do. I wish I could be more like my sisters.* Rai
thought sadly, and the thought of her sisters lightened her mood. She'd
do it to show Hollen, and to make Elysa proud.
~* Jamie *~
Talia almost didn't realize what had happened... her muddled mind refusing
to comprehend. Then in dawned on her. The novitiate had channeled
- with a purpose in mind. The Draggonsworn looked at Rai for a moment..
rubbing her temples a bit. "Congratulations.." She murmured,
"Perhaps from now on, we should concentrate on Air.."
With a nod of her head and meekness in her voice, La'rece turned to
Tareena, "I'll go see if I can find Ariana, as well. I …"
The Arafellan hesitated, unsure suddenly what to say that might explain
her behavior to the First. "I'll be back shortly," she all but whispered
glancing at the still form of Myiona on the bed. Tareena paused in
her efforts to look after the departing Arafellan.
******
Looking around the deck, La'rece spotted Talia and the young Railene.
Talia had been working with the girl to break her block. La'rece
was not sure that she would have had Talia's patience. The
Green Sitters and the head of the Green Ajah had all unanimously agreed
that La'rece Barata'gan was not to 'assist' any more blocked Accepted or
Novices after she took three of them on a trolloc hunt near the Blight.
They had ridden out with a troop of Arafellan knights who were investigating
a surge of raids near the country's northeast border. None of the
girls was injured, though they did gain a white hair or two as souvenirs
of the experience. The Amyrlin had not been amused, but their blocks
had been broken under duress.
La'rece was about to head on in search of Ariana when Talia suddenly
collapsed on the deck narrowly missing hitting her head on a rather nasty
looking bit of rigging mechanism. Running over to the unconscious
Talia, La'rece forced her voice to calm and turned to Railene, "What happened?"
Lauren
Hannah
Jake
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
Lisa
Elois gave Mura'shar an impatient look. If there was a potentially life-threatening
illness sweeping through the passenger of this ship even now, the last
thing she had time for was catering to nosy male questions - mission leader,
or no.
Hannah
Rengar thought that he had a pretty good idea of where Elois was, anyhow.
But before he could go and find here the Wheel delivered her to him just
as he was climbing the stairs to go above deck. At first she seemed
a little startled to see him walking towards her with such purpose, but
she seemed to compose herself quickly. And unless Rengar was mistaken,
there seemed to be a look of concern on her face as she watched him come
towards her and then stop.
Sorry folks, I've been busy on the road contacting my old thesis advisor
about some research, etc. Meanwhile, my mother broke her right arm, and
so things have been pretty hectic. here I will catch up.
By the way, I would like to ask about a point of information: is the
plague ter'angreal the one that flashed at the Gateway, or a different
one? If a different one, keep in mind that Darren and Arran have no way
of knowing...
also, if the sea folk have wind_finders_, I am accidentally calling
them windmistresses throughout.
As he stepped on board, Darren siezed saidin, but did nothing: there
was no one channelling at him, no threat to be turned or even a friendly
thread of the one power to tie into knots.
******
The deck was mainly clear. Tareena was in a room with most of the other
dragonsworn, and Darren wasn't inclined to bother that many women, even
if he did want to let Tareena know. He leaned idly against a side rail,
watching as the windmistress stood, facing aft, presumably enhancing the
wind. He could tell she was channelling, and perhaps he could have altered
her work in some way, but there was no point.
Perhaps this ter'angreal has two purposes... I do not think Darren has
figured either one out.
If you're wondering where Arran is, he's asleep somewhere.
Luke
Raileine looked upon Talia's form with shock. She got down on her hands
and knees and touched Talia's throat, feeling for a pulse. *The Light praise
Elysa for teaching me the basics,* She thought as she felt Talia's pulse
and then she rocked back on her heels, and stared at the woman. What caused
this? Rai felt a little guilt nagging at her conscience, almost positive
that she was the reason that this had happened to the woman that had broken
her block.
- Jamie
La'rece took a deep breath. It was not the girl's fault. It was
the Sharans who were to blame. "It's alright, girl. Let's get her
below decks right away. You there!" the Dragonsworn shouted to three
Sea Folk deckhands. "Carry this woman below. Careful, mind
you. Be careful."
Turning back to the young novitiate, La'rece smiled, "It's Railene,
yes? Good. I want you to see to it that Talia is made comfortable
and stay with her until I've had a chance to fetch Ariana to look at her.
I fear we're in for an unpleasant voyage."
Railene smiled nervously and went off with the men who were carrying
the unconscious Talia down below. La'rece's smile left her face.
Looking around she could see far fewer Tower members than would be expected.
Raw suspicion would turn to hard proof she knew as soon as a check was
made of the cabins below. People were beginning to fall victim to
this plague put forth by the Sharans.
It was time to go speak with Tareena and find Ariana to help Talia.
They were going to need to keep as many healthy as possible, not that La'rece
had any idea in the world how that could be accomplished. One thing
seemed certain, they could not return to the Tower until they were positive
that this thing could not be transmitted to others, that it was not contagious.
~Light help us if it is!~ La'rece shook off the doubt and headed
downstairs to speak with her sisters.
Lauren
Elois quelled a sudden urge to laugh at the ludicrous accusation Rengar
levelled at Myiona. It was rather amusing - that circumstances had formed
in such a way as to give that impression. She really couldn't blame the
man, logical reasoning could easily lead him to such a conclusion. And
he apparently wasn't the type of man to spare a woman - especially an Aes
Sedai - much trust.
Hannah
From his seat near the bow of the ship, Durial watched the chaos.
--Josh
Unaware that she was sought above, Ariana was curled (not entirely happily)
into the contraption of rope that the Seafolk called a hammock and insisted
was safe for sleeping in on a wildly pitching ship. Had it been in
her nature, she would have sworn. The waves were making reading near-impossible.
She'd have a headache if she kept it up. She leaned over, sticking
an arm through the woven ropes, and tucked the book back into the tiny
dresser drawer.
Heh heh, and the title becomes clear... :)
Stefan laid in the forward compartment storage hold where extra ropes
and sails laid in large piles. A nice comfortable spot for those who were
seeking respite from the company of others. Thomas had disappeared complaining
about a headache, and Stefan wasn't feeling too good himself.
Shifting in the rope coils and sails his mind seemed distant from his
body, yet close enough to feel every heave and lurch of the ship. Eyeing
the shadows warily, Stefan was feeling the heat burning his body. His eyes
hurt and his head pounded. Embracing Saidin he sought the cool comfort
of the source but all he found was more pain. The struggle was horrible
to maintain the grip.
A shadow moved amongst the coils, long and sinuous. Stefan froze, the
source was pounding in his head, and he realized without thinking about
it that his hands were half way dragging out his swords. The shadow shifted
away, and then suddenly came back fast. Stefan pulled on the source and
drew as much as he had ever held. leaping at the oncoming attacker, Stefan
wrapped himself in the weaves of Fire, Water, Spirt, Earth, and Air. Hammering
the shadow bound assailant with the twin swords he formed the Eagle on
the Wind. His head in mind blinding pain, he howled with the sheer joy
of the source. Thrust and counter thrust he tore through the hold to catch
the elusive shadow. Cornering the shadow in the hold near the ceiling he
spun with all his fury and thrust both swords through the ceiling where
the thing hovered in mockery of Stefan's efforts to kill it
Stefan collapsed with exhaustion, and the shadow still hung there amidst
a pile of shredded ropes, sails, and the offending remains of an old latern
that cast the evil shadow.
On the deck a deckhand looked held the rail as he heard the howls of
the maniac below in the forward hold. Jumping nimbly aside as two swords
thrust through the deck, the deckhand cursed the land loving maniac.
Steve(Sorry for the delay, things are a wee bit hectic right now.)
Alcinia sat in the shadows watching the crowds swirl around her.
It seemed that time had slowed down and everyone was moving sluggishly.
The tiny thief lifted a hand to rub her eyes. It felt unusually heavy
like she was in the midst of a deep sleep.
When the light began to dim into a darkness deeper than the blackest
night, she sighed softly and slid down to lay out on the dock. Hands
quickly grabbed her feet and hands, pulling her out of the sight of those
on board the ship.
She was thrown on the back of a small cart and pushed through the streets
and into the inner city. The young Dragonsworn did not regain consciousness
for several hours and the ship had long since left the harbor.
When she awoke, it was to find herself shielded tightly. She could
not even feel the bond she had hated so much at first. Its presence
would have been a comfort, but Aramis was far away. Even her daggers
had been removed leaving the Mayener helpless and a prisoner of the enemy
of the tower. No one even seemed to have noticed she was gone.
The tears poured down her face as she realized that she was stuck here
for a long, long time.
Alcinia
Time to take a break as well. So, Alcinia is gone for now.
TTFN
Images of the entire Black Tower afflicted with this plague raced through
her head as La'rece headed to the ladder to go below decks. She needed
to speak with Tareena about possible solutions, though no ideas came clearly
to mind. A flickering image of the Black Tower sending to Tar Valon
for help from the Yellows fled quickly away. Despite their extensive
and growing knowledge of various illnesses and the like associated with
channeling, the former Green did not think it likely that any form of diplomatic
relations would exist between the two Towers. An idle thought of
secretly communicating with her contacts in the White Tower floated through
her mind.
Just as she reached the ladder ~When are they going to build one of
these things with a proper set of stairs?~, La'rece was distracted by a
shout by one of the Sea Folk deckhands. The Arafellan's eyes widened
as the glint of light off of metal resolved itself into the blades of two
swords being thrust upward through the deck planks. ~What in the …?!~
La'rece raced down below and headed in the direction of the commotion.
Finding a shut door at the end of the passageway, the Dragonsworn forced
open the door to find a wide-eyed Stefan panting, both swords drawn staring
intently into the corner near piles of rope.
Kneeling down next to the groaning Stefan, La'rece felt his forehead
and checked his pulse. The man was sick and obviously delirious.
The illness was spreading fast. Too fast. Picking the man up,
a difficult task as he was a good bit taller than her and outweighed her
by a fair margin, La'rece managed to move him down the passageway to the
first empty cabin she found. Ironically, it was her own. She
shared the cabin with two other Dragonsworn, neither of whom were going
to be thrilled at finding a sick man ensconced in their room, but the man
was sick.
A rap followed by the door opening drew Tareena's attention from Myiona's
prone and unconscious form. "What is it?" the First asked.
"Stefan in a bit of delirium almost shortened one of the deckhands legs
from below deck. I can't imagine what he must have thought he was
doing. Tareena, this thing is spreading. Fast." La'rece
looked closely at her friend. "How are you feeling?"
Lauren
Tareena stood stiffly and knuckled the small of her back. Taking
a quick inventory she let slip a small smile at the Arafellan and sighed.
"Well, other than being extremely tired, I am fine. It seems as though
this sickness has not reached me yet, however it is traveling." Tareena
moved away this way and that, trying to relieve the stiffness. "I
have been thinking....the green flash that went off in front of us on the
docks...you were in the water and I was behind my shield with Darren...it
didn't touch us. We haven't come down with it yet. Myiona carried
the Ter'angreal overboard but it flashed again and everyone within distance
is now sick. Those two are quite obvious. How else can it spread?
What do we not know about? I think that we need to gather everyone
in one place that is sick and begin a quarantine immediately. We
can't afford to let this spread, especially when we don't know how it is
happening. What do you think La'rece? Where did Mura'shar get
off to? We need to make some decisions here."
Lisa ~Tareena De'Haviland
"Where's Mura'shar?" Tareena asked.
"He's been moved down to his own cabin for now." La'rece glanced
down at the still form of Myiona, the woman's breathing slow and almost
imperceptible yet steady for all of that. "I keep trying to figure
how this thing is passed … Myiona, Mura'shar, Talia, Stefan … and Light
alone knows who else. And that's not even counting the Sea Folk.
Have you spoken to the Sailmistress? I would but …" a wry grin played
across the Arafellan's face but quickly disappeared at the flat stare coming
from her friend. "Right. Well, I suppose we could go speak with them
together and find out if the crew has fallen victim to this ailment."
Tareena nodded and sighed. "Where's Ariana? I'd like her
to take another look at Myiona. Plus, I want her current assessment
of the situation. She's the most likely candidate to come up with
a cure for this … thing"
"I haven't found her. Of course, I was derailed by Stefan and
his antics. She can't have gone far, not on a ship. Perhaps
she's with Elois looking after Mura'shar and some of the others.
We'll need to ask the Sailmistress if there is a place we can set up to
look after the entire group." La'rece paused. "Tareena, we can't
go back to the Black Tower until this is sorted out. And I don't
think the Sea Folk would be wise to return to their own islands until we
do either. Do you agree?"
Lauren
Arran stepped up on deck after a long nap; everything was fascinating,
new, and unexplained. Clearly a lot of what was going on had a purpose.
Many people along one rail were facing downwind - sensible, given that
many of them were vomiting. Others, completely unaffected, were bustling
about on deck, carrying out various tasks, and occasionally looking out
over the increa
Luke
Rengar couldn't help but let out a little laugh as he saw Elois
hit the deck, but the glare that she gave him afterwards gave him pause.
She didn't seem to be in the mood for levity at the moment, and after Rengar
considered what she had just told him he couldn't blame her. It was
true that, so far, the illness that seemed to have affected some of the
others on board had not reached him yet. He did find it a little
hard to believe everything that Elois had just told him, but he had given
her his word...
Mura'shar laboriously made his way towards where Myiona lay.
Tareena or Ariana would not approve of him exerting himself so much.
Elois would probably have his hide, then have him tied to his cot.
But he had to see her. She was alive, everyone assured him.
And he knew it himself. She was stable, but something was terribly,
terribly wrong.
______________________________________
Jake
Darren had to put the ter'angreal down. It was far too cold in
the lower decks for him to continue. He climbed up the ladder on nearly
frostbitten hands and feet (as ordinary as they looked!), and tried to
find some warmth. The berths other storm team members were in looked very
inviting, inasmuch as someone else was there, and body heat would help.
But Darren could not believe that they were at all warm, given the frigid
air and furnishings of the room. Not to mention the improperness of crawling
up with someone, especially without Tareena knowing what was going on...
Luke
Stefan's head was in a fuzz. His memories were tumbling over in
his head, and his guilt still rode him like the Darkone.
"Is this real?" Stefan found himself wondering aloud.
Steve
"Tareena, we can't go back to the Black Tower until this is sorted
out. And I don't think the Sea Folk would be wise to return to their
own islands until we do either. Do you agree?"
Tareena let out a sigh. As much
as she wanted to give the order to head straight back to the Black Tower,
she knew La'rece was right. She didn't like it, not one bit, but
she was right. "No, we can't go home and cannot allow the Sea Folk
to go either. Light but I don't want to be the one to tell them that!"
Squaring her shoulders Tareena took strength from the sympathetic look
she received and made a move to turn. A tap on her shoulder almost
made her jump. She turned and faced Arran, who began to mumble.
Immediately Tareena realized that he was speaking of another time, another
world, to another woman. Just as Arran once existed in another time,
so did Tareena's twin. Arran had once been in love with her and it
had been quite difficult for him to separate his love with the present
Tareena. Of course Darren, her bondmate, being around added somewhat
of a nice buffer. Still, Tareena had come to feel very affectionate
towards Arran and was concerned with his mumbling. He generally did
not go on so in public.
Lisa ~Tareena De'Haviland
"I need to find the Sea Folk woman in charge" Tareena said somewhat
wearily.
"The Sailmistress" La'rece corrected.
"I bloody well know what she's called, La'rece!" Tareena snapped at
the other woman. Seeing La'rece's raised eyebrow, Tareena sighed,
"I'm sorry. It's just … things are progressing faster than we may
be able to contain them. And now, not being able to return to the
Tower. To home…"
La'rece put her arm around her friend's shoulder, "I know. I should've
kept my mouth shut." With a smile for each other, they headed toward
the bridge of the Sea Folk vessel to find the Sailmistress.
******
"It is the way with the land-born. It may pass, the Light willing"
replied the Sailmistress.
"Yes, well, as to that … I, we don't believe that this illness is mere
sea sickness, but rather some sort of … plague, caused by a ter'angreal
sold to us by the Sharans."
"Plague! And you brought this … thing, this plague onto my ship?!"
"We didn't know …" began Tareena.
"Listen, Aes Sedai …!" the Sailmistress started to say.
"Okay, now that's enough" La'rece interjected in a calm, hushed voice,
stepping between Tareena and the Sailmistress. Recognizing the Dragonsworn,
the Sailmistress's eyes almost popped out of her skull. "First of
all, we're members of the Black Tower. Dragonsworn. We are not Aes Sedai,
and as you know Aes Sedai cannot lie, you know it for truth. So cease
and desist with the Aes Sedai." La'rece met the Sailmistress's eyes
and held them until the other woman looked away.
"We did not know about the ter'angreal's ability until we had already
sailed" Tareena explained. "The Sharans planted it as a trap for
us. Unfortunately, it seems to be spreading quickly. We cannot
return until we are certain of its cure."
"The Sharans are not to be trusted…" the Sailmistress was saying somewhat
reluctantly. La'rece ignored the cutting glances the Sea Folk woman
spared her on occasion. The Arafellan was scanning the decks of the
raker. Where was the Windfinder?
"… perhaps we could find an island and drop you off and send assistance"
the Sailmistress was suggesting.
"That would not be …" Tareena started to say when La'rece jumped in.
"No. It's already spread to your crew, hasn't it? Where's your Windfinder?
Is she not feeling well. Every day she's been out here during the
height of the day gathering wind to speed the boat …"
"He's a ship!" the woman replied defensively. "And my sister did
not sleep well last night and is resting below. She will be out shortly,
I assure you."
Turning to Tareena, La'rece untied the purse at her waist and handed
it to the First. Pitching her voice for Tareena's ear alone, La'rece
whispered, "Use it to make whatever deal we must to make certain this woman
does as you tell her to. I'm going to go take a look at this Windfinder
and see if it really is just a case of too little sleep or if …"
There was no need to finish, they both knew what they suspected was
the truth. As La'rece darted off to see about the Windfinder, the
Sailmistress's eyes following her to the main deck, Tareena glanced into
the purse that the other Dragonsworn had given her. Inside she could
see numerous gold coins, Andoran crowns by their look, and a number of
jeweled rings and necklaces. It might require a good deal of bargaining
with the Sailmistress, but Tareena hoped that the woman would see reason
first.
*****
"How long has she been like this?" La'rece asked in a voice that demanded
an answer. "Well?!" she added when they did not respond.
"Two days now, Aes Sedai" the taller of the two women answered reluctantly.
"Are there any others of the crew who are likewise ill?"
"There are one or two, Aes Sedai" the woman replied.
"Have them put in a cabin nearby where all three can be looked after."
"I will ask the Sailmistress, Aes Sedai…"
"You will move them now and you will stop calling me 'Aes Sedai' … I
am Dragonsworn, a member of the Black Tower" the Arafellan snapped.
The two Sea Folk women quickly left to go do as La'rece had instructed.
La'rece paused, looking back at the woman lying on the bunk. Where
would they all go? An idea began to form in the Arafellan's mind
as she went to find out how Tareena had fared.
Lauren
Tareena glanced at La'rece, wondering if the woman just understood
what she had said. We are not Aes Sedai but Aes Sedai cannot lie
so you know it for truth. Hmmm...evidently the Sailmistress didn't
get the irony of the statement for she dropped her eyes and looked away.
Tareena glanced once again at La'rece as she broke in several times.
Sometimes she just doesn't get that you don't bludgeon people without adding
a bit of sugar to go with it.
Lisa ~Tareena De'Havliand
Mura'shar must have dozed off for a while. The sound of
a door (or is it called a hatch? Or..Why do sailors always have to
rename everything?) opening. A figure slipped into the room with
a grace that left no doubt it was one of the Sea Folk, despite the near-darkness
of the.
Making her way below decks, La'rece stopped to check on several
of the afflicted Tower members. Each seemed to be sleeping, fitfully.
It was quite a mystery, this illness spreading throughout the group.
It seemed to affect only those with the ability to channel, though the
strength of the ability did not seem to be an issue. Another thing
that niggled at the Arafellan's mind was why some had, so far, seemed to
escape the disease.
La'rece found Tareena and waited for her to finish her conversation
before approaching her. When the First turned to her, La'rece could
see the tension in her friend's eyes. A tension La'rece had help
put there. ~Light, woman! When are you going to learn to think
before you speak? What's happening to you? You're not some
uppity Novice, full of herself and her abilities~ The self-lecture
only served to reinforce La'rece's feeling that she was
"I've just had a look in on some of the others. They all appear
to be sleeping…or what passes for it They're not sleeping well.
Bad dreams seem to be troubling them." La'rece rubbed the back of
her neck trying to work out the ache that had settled in Tension.
~And for good cause~
"We've got to do something. But what?" Tareena seemed lost
in thought, focused on possible solutions. La'rece continued herself
to think of a solution. Her mind kept bouncing back to the Library
at Tar Valon and to the cache of ter'angreal kept in the White Tower.
She knew of a rod, rarely used, that the Yellows had on occasion used to
heal severe injuries and afflictions. Not much chance of strolling
into the White Tower asking for help. But,
"I have estates in southern Arafel. Quite remote, actually.
Perhaps we could Travel and take the sick to them. At least we'd
be back on dry land. Meanwhile, we can try and figure out a solution
to this problem." As La'rece waited to hear Tareena's response, a
knock sounded at the door.
Something had happened out there. Talia couldn't tell what
it was, however.
The Saldaean reached through her double bond for the only bit of security
The young woman choked.. coughed.. as air seemed to refuse to travel
freely
(~No.. no.. no not here..~) Talia jumped out of her cot.. and saw the
back
Turning, she saw an opening at the back of the tent she'd never noticed
It never occurred to her that a tent wouldn't have a window. Her mind
wasn't
And with that happy thought, Talia slipped out the porthole.. and fell
into
breath. It seemed she had been searching the ship for hours to
no avail.
She couldn't find her bondmate anywhere. Exhaustion was creeping
in, her
eyes full of the need to sleep and her body craving the oblivion.
Everywhere she had turned people were sick. More and more instances
of
people hallucinating and trying to hurt someone else were being reported.
The few who had not been effected, at least not yet, were hard pressed
to
keep up with it. Solutions had been looked at and discarded.
Hysteria
threatened to creep into her conscious but she ruthlessly tamped it
back
down. They had been in bad situations before and had found a way.
They
must keep trying, they must!
Tareena pushed herself up and continued below
deck. She must take at
least a few hours to rest. She reached her cabin and gratefully
pushed open
the door. Her hammock beckoned and she gratefully fell into the
swaying
ropes. Feverishly she ran through everything in her mind over
and over,
trying to find the answer but none came. Black fog began to roll
into her
mind, acting as a soothing balm. Her last incoherent thoughts
were of her
long ago family and her mother singing her a lullaby.
Elois paced the deck fitfully. She'd taken a break from never-ceasing
rounds of Healing and soothing the sick to catch a few breaths of fresh
air. Even the Sea Folk crew seemed to have dwindled, and those that were
left stared at her mistrustfully. Not that she could blame them. Their
very Windfinder was not immune to this damnable sickness.
No stars were visible in the evening sky as the ship made its
way along the Tairen coast. Clouds and the threat of rain seemed
to muffle every sound and the passengers and crew of the Sea Folk raker
were mostly silent as the vessel glided through the dark waters.
Hope lay in reaching their destination without hinderance. Yet how
many would survive the journey and the time it took to work out the solution?
The Cure.
Wrapped in a seal fur cloak, La'rece Barata'gan watched the sea.
Her eyes were hard and black in the darkness. The time for worrying
about consequences was over. People had begun to die. Talia
… A chill ran through the Dragonsworn's body. Not sickness.
Fear. A fear that began hours earlier…
*****
The scream was bone-chilling. Even before it had been confirmed,
every person who heard that cry knew in their hearts … Talia was dead.
She had apparently found her way outside, perhaps up on deck when no one
could see, and had fallen overboard. Drowned, and yet her death could
only be laid at the feet of the Sharans. Their plague had brought
this tragedy.
La'rece felt more a soldier than she had ever felt before. She
felt more Aes Sedai than she had before. And she felt more a part
of the Black Tower than ever before.
Looking for Tareena, La'rece found her in her cabin. Asleep, Tareena
was clearly exhausted and running a small fever. ~Not the plague!
Just exhaustion and stress~ Pulling the blanket up to Tareena's shoulders,
La'rece stepped out of the cabin and wove a ward of Spirit and Water and
Fire, hopefully keeping out whatever this illness might be. The Dragonsworn
did not know if the ward would be effective, but its qualities worked against
other severe
A woman whose age spanned more than five normal lifetimes, the Arafellan
had seen her share of horrors. But in each previous instance, she
knew how to fight back. She had the means. The knowledge.
But now …
Knocking on the Captain's door, La'rece opened the door to find the
woman in tears. The Windfinder had succumbed to the illness and had
died that afternoon as well. Closing the door behind her, La'rece
silently comforted the other woman, sitting with her.
After a time, the Sea Folk woman seemed better equipped to deal with
the dilemma they faced. La'rece told her of her proposed plan …
*****
"We should be approaching the delta soon. If we do not seek to
use a pilot from the city, we should be able to pass without detection.
It will be dangerous in the dark of night, Aes Sedai."
"We have no choice, I'm afraid." La'rece sighed as she looked up feeling
the first drops of rain. "You say that this ship can travel as far
as Cairhien on the river?"
"Yes, he can take us perhaps a bit further. Perhaps to Tar Valon."
The Captain did not sound as though that was a destination she had any
intention of pursuing. If she knew how little La'rece wanted to see
the Shining Walls, the woman might take some comfort.
"Not Tar Valon. No Aes Sedai. The Light willing we will
avoid detection by either Tower. I want to get as close to Arafel
as possible before we leave the ship. No one can know of our plans
or our presence. We cannot let this plague spread. We must
reach my estates. Once there, I can go 'borrow' something that I
think might be of help."
The rain began to fall in earnest as the ship glided past through the
delta entering the mouth of the mighty river. No one noticed the
ghost-like ship as it moved through the night, a wraith seeking northern
lands.
Mura'shar stood on the deck, watching the land go by. He
leaned on a makeshift cane, really a pole of wood about his height and
as thick as his thumb. How long has it been since he's seen these
shores? He didn't care to think about it. Nor did he want to
think about those who will never see these lands again. Myiona was
still comatose. Talia...Talia was dead. As was at least one
Windfinder. It was hard to hold a thought from one moment to
The sky was still dark as the Sea Folk vessel arrived at the small
dock located at a wide point in the river. It had taken over a week
to make it this far with only two stops along the way, each made quietly
and covertly. In recent months, the presence of Sea Folk vessels
on the river had received less notice but there was no point in raising
suspicions unnecessarily. At each of the stops, La'rece had left
the ship and carefully sent messages
Now they had arrived at the end of the sailing portion of their journey.
Walking down the plank, La'rece was relieved to see Baren, the manager
of the estate. As she had instructed, he had arranged a bevy of wagons
to transport everyone from the ship to the manor. It would take several
days of travel to reach the estate from where they stood, but if what they
suspected was true, there was no other way. Channeling seemed to
be deadly. The wagon
Evening had fallen the day they finally arrived at the manor.
The afflicted far outnumbered the healthy. La'rece sincerely hoped
that the precautions taken to protect the servants and wagoneers were enough.
It would likely be a moot point if they were unable to ferret out a cure
for the disease.
The house was large. Exceedingly so. It dated back to a
time when the whole region had been a nation unto itself. But that
nation had succumbed to time and infighting and had in time become part
of Arafel and Cairhien. Per her instructions the servants had vacated
the main house and restricted their presence to their own homes and the
fields. Overnight, the manor became a house of illness with room
after room filled with the gravely ill.
La'rece wasted no time in packing her saddle bag and outfitting her
horse. It would take her 3-4 days to reach her destination and she
would be risking the loss of the horse in the mix.
"Where are you going, La'rece" Mura'shar asked again, the weariness
evident in his voice.
La'rece looked up from checking the straps on her steed. "I think
you know, my friend."
Mura'shar's mouth turned grim. "You should not…"
"I know. But we cannot always avoid what 'should not' be done"
the Dragonsworn responded placing a hand on the Asha'man's shoulder.
She would have liked company on the journey but knew that this had to be
done by a woman and alone. "I'll be as fast as the Light allows.
Let's hope this doesn't turn out to be a wild goose chase."
There was no trace of a smile on the man's face when he replied, "Watch
your back and don't waste time renewing old acquaintances, La'rece."
Mura'shar peered about in the darkness. It was now or never.
He had until dawn, if he was lucky. Otherwise he'll just have to
come again the next night. Or the next. It would be no great loss
if he got hurt or died. He'd already left a note saying who would
replace him. Maybe he'd do a better job than he had. He was
wasting time dithering. He screwed up his courage and opened one
of the small boxes. He picked up a small bracelet.
_____________________________
Jake
Tareena walked the grounds of La'rece's estate, not really seeing
the
Lisa ~ Tareena De'Havilan
Mura'shar peered about in the darkness. It was now or never. He had until dawn, if he was lucky. Otherwise he'll just have to come again the next night. Or the next. It would be no great loss if he got hurt or died. He'd already left a note saying who would replace him. Maybe he'd do a better job than he had. He was wasting time dithering. He screwed up his courage and opened one of the small boxes. He picked up a small bracelet.
After an extensive examination, he found it's abilities to be useless. At the moment it was unimportant if he found a ter'angreal that removed the dust from his clothing when he channeled into it. He went on searching.
He kept rummaging. He found that accursed mushroom ter'angreal that turned him blue for a while. A fairly powerful male angreal. More searching. Items that would win them acclaim at the Black Tower if they could just return there safely clattered on the ground. Nothing useful now. Maybe this was a fool's errand.
He drew out a small chalice. Half was jet black, half was ivory white. But the two blended together. A wavy line of gray separated them. He could almost feel Spirit calling to him. Whatever this thing was, it required a huge amount of the One Power to activate.
Letters were written on the gray. It was Old Tongue. He tried to make out what they said.
"Drink from me and learn all that you know" he pondered that. He must be mistranslating it. But "knowledge" he was pretty certain of. It might be worth a try. He took out a flask of water and poured a small quantity into the cup.
He channeled. Spirit wasn't his strongest Power, but he was no weakling at it. He ignored the pain channeling this much saidin caused him. It was nowhere near his usual capacity. He cursed the plague once more as he drank the water. The world blurred away. He felt himself falling...
...Mura'shar lay on his back. He was on a grassy hill, looking up at the clouds in the sky. One odd shaped cloud looked just like a horse running across the sky.
"It looks more like an egg to me" said a familiar voice. Had he spoken aloud? He turned around and stared. Myiona stood before him.
"Well, isn't it an egg?" she asked, pointing. Mura'shar turned around. Sure enough, the horse was now an egg rolling across the sky.
He looked around again and started to understand. He was dreaming This place had the same sense of unreality as the odd dreams he had been drawn into a couple of time by Myiona. Was he drawn into one of her dreams again?
He was about to ask her that when he saw she was not there anymore. Narnek, the Sharan merchant was there instead. Mura'shar balled his hands into fists and launched himself at the cowled figure. Even as he closed the gap, the figure was suddenly someone else. An old man, a family servant who had been dead for years. He barely remembered him save that he used to call the kind old man "the Horseman" as a small child.
"Who are you?" he asked him. Or her. Or it. He couldn't be sure what he was seeing.
"Who are you?" the old man asked him back. Then the figure changed into himself. No, not him. Mera'shar. The cruel gleam in his eyes could not be him.
"Is this some kind of trick?" he demanded. "What do you want? Who are you?"
The figure kept changing. Always into people he knew. Some he loved. Others he hated. Some were dead and gone for years. Others he hadn't seen in so long he had nearly forgotten him.
"Tough question" Talia said. "I am you. We all are, Or maybe your perceptions. You really don't know."
"Of course I don't know! That's why I'm asking you! Just answer my question, please."
"You can only answer questions we know the answer to already" Stevan responded. "What do you want to know"
Mura'shar decided to play along "All right. How do I cure the disease that struck down my Storm Team? DO I know how to do that?"
"No" said Elois "The usual methods of Healing do not work on this plague" Alan added as the form changed shape again.
"So if the usual methods don't work, what do I have to do?"
"Perhaps nothing. Perhaps nothing can be done" It was odd seeing such a pessimistic statement coming from his mother. She was always so happy, so full of life "But in the Age of Legends, there were weaves known then that we have forgotten are even possible"
A Black-clad Myiona, the evil duplicate who held him prisoner continued "New weaves are even now being learned. Things that were thought impossible, even in the Age of Legends, are happening today"
Nadden, the Aes Sedai who helped free him, and was later murdered by this Myiona, appeared "When the usual doesn't work, try the unusual"
"It's not like you have anything to lose. People have already died" La'rece finished
"great, that narrows it down" Mura'shar said sarcastically. So maybe something other than Healing is needed. What, then? A bit of Illusion? Some weather control? A bit of Fire? We are trained to be weapons. We are not Brown or White Ajah, who spend all their time in study and research! Does that mean we have to throw ourselves at the mercy of Tar Valon? Or hope La'rece manages to discover something? Trust in luck?"
Tor shook his head. "This disease is not natural. It is something of the One Power. Any weave can be unwoven." said the Aielman. Or cut. Or dissipated. Even balefire can be turned aside"
A counterweave? Why hadn't he thought of that? Or had he? If these were all the voices of his mind, the idea they gave him must have been in there somewhere.
"All right. It's worth investigating. Now how do I wake up, or go back, or whatever it is I do to leave"
Elois looked puzzled "You do not know. Therefore, we don't either"
"Try releasing saidin" suggested Ivan.
Mura'shar tried. To his horror, he couldn't! "I can't let go!" he cried out.
The world shifted and blurred. His whole life literally passed before his eyes. Everything about him he had a conscious memory of happening sped by in a blink. Things in his childhood long since discarded as childish foolishness were relived in detail. Every laugh, every tear, every scraped knee and fear for his very life. It seemed never to end. It seemed to pass by in a single breath.
He was suspended in darkness. There was nobody there. He was nowhere. He was completely and totally alone. Except for one thing. He sensed it in the back of his mind. A tiny knot of emotions and sensations that were not his. He held onto it. His lifeline. He last connection to the here and now.
"Myiona" he breathed, and slept.
In the dark room where the plague-stricken Storm Team had stashed their precious cargo, Mura'shar slept. The black and white chalice slipped from his limp fingers and rolled away. A few drops of water dribbled from it as it rolled away. It seemed to glow a bit in the near darkness, but Mura'shar did not notice. He slept, and dreamed, and bore a small smile on his lips.
_____________________________
That outta keep me out of it for a while. Anyway, the ter'angreal is keeping him in a sorta enchanted sleep. He might be accessible via TAR, but I haven't thought much about how he'll snap out of it. If he does. Probably he'll simply stumble on the way to break the connection. Anyway, last RP for a while.
Jake
Asha'man who's not all there
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
Darren waited outside in the sun. For some reason, he didn't feel as cold in the sun, despite the fact that there were a few feet of snow on the ground.He couldn't do anything useful inside anway; Elois, Arran, and Tareena were helping soldiers and dragonsworn inside; La'rece was finding a ter'angreal she owned of which she said it could help.
And there she came around the bend, tossing a fist-sized wooden cube up in the air, then catching it and dropping it into a bag.
As she approached, Tareena sensed Darren's apprehension and came outside. They shared a glance, waiting. Darren shivered in place, recalling La'rece's warning. {{This will bear the risk of severing you, and also the risk of not having any effect on the illness. And if it has any effect at all, it will hurt.}}
When La'rece arrived, she was quite curt. "Do not sieze the source. If you do, you will perpetually feel as if you were in a stedding." She took the wooden cube out of the bag, and handed it to him. "Hold on until it covers your body. If you release early, nothing bad happens but you have to start over."
Darren did not need to ask what she had meant by "cover". A pulling sensation was spreading over his arm, like... nothing he had ever felt. It just felt utterly empty, and pulling at him. Most of a minute later, it reached his neck. Darren steeled himself not to squirm, as if that would avoid it. He forced himself to continue breathing as it flowed up to his mouth and in. He was intrigued by the sensations there enough that he was not prepared for the abrupt pain of the tension on his eyeballs. Then his attention abruptly returned to his throat as he suddenly gagged in dry heaves. That passed as the sensation became uniform throughout his throat. A few seconds later he had to force himself to breathe even harder as it covered his lungs {{I hope this doesn't act as bad as it feels, or I will need some serious healing... at least it doesn't hurt right now, except for my eyeballs}} For several seconds the feeling was indeed more interesting than painful as it made him feel various sections of his ailimentary tract he had never really been aware of before. Abruptly, it hit him. Or rather, his testes. He keeled over into a snowdrift, still holding onto the cube. Tareena pulled him out, and he went through the remaining few seconds before he was uniformly covered curled up.
"I'm pretty well covered. Now what?" he croaked.
La'rece considered. "Well, we... No sense in taking risks now. Hold on as long as you can."
Darren had become almost acclimated to the extreme feelings coursing around his body, and stood up. Maybe it was just that he was numb.
After a while, he felt no change at all, and set the cube down.
The moment his fingers left contact, sense exploded. His skin exploded in pins-and-needles. Saidin rushed in unbidden, and he fought a momentarily losing battle to control it. However, he regained control a moment shy of self-immolation.
"I.. can't... release..."
La'rece nodded. "That will pass."
Tareena murmured, "The bond... slipped away, and didn't come back."
Darren smiled. "Well, we can fix that, can't we?"
years. Which is a little crazy considering that I'm an Anarchist, and
can't
stand the government. (Read only 'government' not country, I think
this
country was great when it got started) I joined for the college money
okay,
please don't hate me. :) Right now I'm working in construction down
in FL.
Pay's great, at least compared to the Army LOL. But I'll be going back
to
college again soon. Majored in Computer Science at NC State for 1 year,
then
ran out of money. Just couldn't fit work into my school/partying schedule.
But I did keep a 4.0 for that one year.
back though I'm changing my major to drama or theater, or maybe philosophy,
not sure yet but I do know computers are too boring.
writing, RPing drinking, smoking and getting arrested.
maker what can I say? Well, it's nice to meet you fine people. Can't
wait to
get to know ya'll better, but right now I have to get a little sleep,
big
concert this weekend.
hand
through her long black hair. Her mind flashed back to everything
that
had
happened over the past few days. No one had come up and asked
her
*how* she
had managed to lie using the bracelet. Perhaps they thought its
presence on
her wrist had managed to nullify the affects of the three oaths.
She,
however, knew the truth and it was troubling to the former Aes Sedai.
result of worry about her bondmate and the hours spent studying the
strange
ter'angreal. She had found herself back in the tower, down in
the
basement,
walking the hallways. At first, they had been empty, but a woman
appeared
suddenly and grabbed her. Myiona found herself pushed into a
small
room. A
few other women stood there and they quickly shoved the oath rod into
her
hands. It all went by in a blur, but before she knew it she was
foreswearing all of her previous oaths. Her body, wracked with
pain,
forced
her to wake leaving her trembling from the ordeal.
her
room again, that she *knew* that it had been no mere dream. She
had
been in
Tel'aran'rhiod and the oath had been binding in the real world.
She
did not
set out to lie, then, but somehow the words escaped her lips before
she
realized what had happened. It was not anything earth shattering,
but
the
fact that she could lie made the Domani feel ill. She returned
to her
room
and stayed there for the rest of the day.
use the
bracelets on herself to prove her loyalty. She did not even realize
the
significance of her own words until it was past. Though she attended
the
*party* and enjoyed being with Mura'shar and her friends again, the
Dragonsworn could not forget her own situation for a moment.
There had
been
no time to speak to her bondmate before they had reached Tear, and
her
worry
had increased the dread of the conversation. Would he still trust
her,
or
would he send her away fearing that she would be a hindrance to the
Black
Tower. All she could do was sit and wait for him to return to
the
cabin so
they could talk.
aka Myiona, Marked Dragonsworn
bondmate of Mura'shar
throw
it at the next person who approached her. Ever sinced she'd left the
White
Tower so long ago she never thought she'd be so desperate to touch
the
power
of saidar as she was now.
But itw as out of reach. So far that it brought
tears to Raileine's
soft
brown eyes.
"You know, we could hire an artist to paint a picture
of that stick
for
you, if you want." Rai was stunned out of her concentrative mode as
a
Dragonsworn approached her. True to her earlier thought Raileine broke
the
twig and threw it over her shoulder, one of the pieces hitting Talia's
arm.
"Oh Light!" She whispered and curtsied deeply after
stumbling to
stand.
"Forgive me, Dragonsworn. I've just been trying to make that stick
do
something for so long it has made me quite frustrated. I am Raileine
Topire,
a Novitiate of the Black Tower. I did not mean to offend you." Rai
held
her
breath and prayed to the Light that this Dragonsworn wouldn't take
Rai's bad
manners to heart.
Raileine Topire
his head. Once Mura'shar had turned away, he sniffed at the bark
and
grunted. A common remedy, willowbark was only good if you hadn't
totally
given yourself to drink the day (or night) before. But
they haven't lived
in the woods as long as you have, so why should they know?
He glanced around for a minute, then
strolled around until he came to a
tree, which he faced. At least these bloody outfits are good
for something.
Reaching inside his ridiculous looking vest, he slipped some
of the
willowbark into one of the many pockets sewn along the inside.
He already
had a sizable amount, but a little extra never hurt. Especially
the way
these people drink. They won't even want to see anything that's
fermented
once on our ship, he reflected with a rare chuckle.
He turned away from the tree and tugged
at the laces of his pants, in
an attempt to look a little less odd. Most people don't have
fun staring at
trees or know anyone that does, and Durial didn't think that there
were any
exceptions here. One of the Dragonsworn, he thought her name
was Elois,
although he was still learning all of the names, glanced at him distastefully
and went back to her conversation. Durial just smiled and walked
back to his
place, to wait.
Soldier Servalien, she caught the eye of the mysterious cook. The man
always
looked rather shifty, like he was hiding something. She frowned at
him. She
certainly didn't approve of taking any servants with them on their
missions;
it was too dangerous. What was Mura'shar thinking, allowing it?
Ah well, she would keep an eye on him
to make sure he didn't get
himself, or the Storm Team, in trouble.
~'--__--'~
the Sea Star, to the tiny cabin that would room (at least) two Dragonsworn.
There were no windows, and although Elois could stand up straight without
knocking her skull, she doubted most of the men of the Black Tower
could be
so fortunate.
The White set her two bags on the upper
berth. It looked to be no more
than a slat of wood with blankets. She should feel fortunate that she
wasn't
assigned to one of the cabins that had only hammocks to sleep on, though.
Feeling a touch claustrophobic, Elois
left her sleeping quarters and -
eventually - found her way topside, to the deck. The Sea Folk were
busily
swarming over the rigging, pulling ropes, loosening ropes, shouting
nonsense
sounding phrases back and forth. Elois stayed out of their way as best
she
could.
She was not the only channeler out for
some fresh air. A few others
she recognized were leaning against the rail, trying to savor their
last
sight of Tear before it disappeared over the horizon.
Elois stepped up to the railing, beside
the green-tinged Stefan.
"Feeling better? You could ask one of the Dragonsworn to Heal you,
you know."
She smothered a smile, knowing full well how any of them would react
to being
asked to Heal a hangover.
-Drat. This means I'll have to brush up on my nautical/Sea Folk knowledge.
:(
in part it settled his stomach and his brain, his tongue and belly
were
conspiring to get even with him for the concoction.
Grabbing his bag and securing his gear, Stefan breathed in a deep gulp
of air
and stepped through the gate to the pier. The thing he was going to
go on was
huge, and sleek looking. He stood there looking at it with his mouth
slightly
ajar, as the ship rose a little and sank a little with the tide.
"oh no, this is going to be bad...very, very bad," Stefan mumbled.
A voice next to his shoulder murmured with a sadistic tone, and tilting
her
hand in rythym to her voice, "oh, yeah, back and forth, just like I
told
you," and then with a malicious smirk and undulation at the wrist,"
I guess I
should have told you about the up and down as...hey!" Another woman
walked up
and grabbed the younger looking woman by the ear," If you'll excuse
us, I
need to have word with this young lady."
Stefan nodded dumbly and slowly walked towards the floating torture
device.
The womans tilting hand that undulated in the same motion as the ship
made
Stefan close his eyes. Trollocs, Fades, darkfriends, warders, Aes Sedai,
anything and everything he had faced was nothing compared to the fear
of the
unknown.
Chuckles arose from the deck of the ship and voices piped in "Me thinks
I see
a ghost," said one voice, and another responded "yes, I think I see
one too,"
another voice spoke, "He's as white as one." Laughter broke out again.
Oh yes, came the voice of reason, this is very very bad.
in law and I took in Hawaii which I was sea sick. He stood there munching
on
a cold sausage sandwich asking me if I wanted anything to eat! Oh I
was
sooooo sick!)
around
her, making her giggle. Quickly she stifled it, looking around
to see
if
anyone had heard her. It wouldn't do to see the Guardian giggling
like
a
school girl but my, it sure did feel good to be out on the water again.
Most
of the tower was not likely to forget that she had been reared by the
Seanchan as a damane but most did not know that a lot of that time
had
been
spent on a ship, getting ready for the Correne or the return as most
called
it now. That was one of the few things Tareena could remember
that
ever made
her happy. She had loved the feeling of the rolling deck and
the salt
spray
on her face. Looking around at the crew, she was quite satisfied with
how
they handled the ship. Of course, the fact that the women were
topless
was a
bit disconcerting, mind you, but all things considered, the black tower
was
in good hands. Tareena leaned once more against the rail and
simply
enjoyed.
The last of the preparations were done, and they were out to sea.
The
Sea Folk, especially their Windfinder, were a bit nervous about having
so
many channelers on board, especially a few that were clearly Aes Sedai.
But
they were all allied to the Lord Dragon, so their presence was accepted
"if
it pleases the Light." As Tear faded from view, Mura'shar found
Tareena
enjoying the view of the ocean and stopped to give her a few
last-minute
instructions
The rapidly vanishing land and the deckhands scrambling
up and down
the
lines, some wearing considerably less than land-dwellers would call
proper
reminded Mura'shar of something important. He leaned over and
whispered in
Tareena's ear "If you recall the last time we were on a Sea Folk
vessel, a
few of the Dragonsworn chose to...emulate some of the crew's fashions.
I
would appreciate it if you made it clear to some of our more impetuous
members that it would be a bad idea to do so this time. I'm sure
some
of the
other Asha'man would appreciate it as well."
He didn't have to say any more. Maybe it was
his own skewed vision
of
the event, but as he recalled, it created quite a stir among the Storm
Team,
one he'd prefer to avoid having to deal with. With that, he bid
her
good day
and returned to his "cabin"
Myiona was already there, deep in thought.
She didn't immediately
return
his greeting. He sought the bond they shared and found she was
worried
about
something. She had, in fact been worried for some time, but the
constant
flow of events had distracted them from it until now.
There wee no other chairs in the room, so Mura'shar
gave Myiona a
quick
peck on the cheek and sat on the foot of the bed.
"Myiona, we've been bonded to each other long enough
to know
something's
troubling you. And it's more than the size of these quarters.
What is
it?
The mission? Did something happen while I was gone? Is
someone still
blaming you for the, um, 'unpleasantness' a while back?"
Mura'shar settled back and waited to hear Myiona's
story.
M'Hael
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
mountain man, sailing wasn't something he was used to--or something
he wanted
to learn about. He looked around at the members of the Team to
see what
thoughts their faces were revealing. Stefan was looking markedly
better.
And he should, for all of the bloody stuff I put in that cup of his.
Elois
continued to give him dirty looks and he just gave back an innocent
smile.
An old addage of some sort wandered to the front of his mind:
When a woman
frowns, hide your face and look meek, but when she smiles, run for
the
Borderlands. His smile turned a little sickly as his eyes
swept elsewhere.
He certainly couldn't argue with the
crew's choice of attire. Or,
lack thereof. He wasn't a picky man, Durial, and simplicity was
his motto.
Looking out over the waters of the sea,
he noticed dark clouds to the
east. Bah, he thought, it's going the other way. What does
a few clouds
mean anyway? You're getting soft, old man, and the soft die.
All the same,
he shuddered involuntarily and went below deck to look for some quarters.
He knocked on Mura'shar's door, but
found it to be locked. He leaned
a little closer to the door, and heard the sound of soft voices.
Wincing at
his own informality, Durial continued down the hall. There seemed
to be no
one around--everyone was probably above deck. So, he opened the
empty door
at the very end of the hall and stepped in.
The sides of the ship curved up sharply
here, and seemed to emphasize
the back and forth sway of the ship at berth. At berth!
Imagine what will
happen when we're NOT tied to something! With that thought, he's
fled up to
the deck, greener that an Ath'an Miere sash.
Unconcerned, the Dragonsworn picked it off and flicked it away from
her.
With a raised brow, she smirked at the younger one. "Hello to
you,
too."
stand.
"Forgive me, Dragonsworn. I've just been trying to make that stick
do
something for so long it has made me quite frustrated. I am Raileine
Topire,
a Novitiate of the Black Tower. I did not mean to offend you." Rai
held
her
breath and prayed to the Light that this Dragonsworn wouldn't take
Rai's bad
manners to heart.>>
alone?
Come on, we're behind everybody." Urging the Novitiate
onward toward
the
flow of traffic, they soon found themselves boarding a Sea Folk vessel
along
with all the other Tower members on this trip.
it?"
Taking a small piece of wood, Talia wove a small inkling of fire onto
the
stick.. just enough to make the tip of it light with red. Blowing
on
the
tip, Talia had started the wood to burning slowly of itself.
Talia
inhaled
deeply of the scent. "Scent wood.. or that's what my father used
to
call
it. Smell." She extended it to Raileine. "I'm Talia..
and if you
want
some help, just say the word."
before
that, Myiona sat quietly trying to compose herself. Finally,
she gave
up
with a sigh and looked at Mura'shar.
something's troubling you. And it's more than the size of these
quarters.
What is it? The mission? Did something happen while I was gone?
Is
someone
still blaming you for the, um, 'unpleasantness' a while back?"
explaining
what had happened in Tel'aran'rhiod and how the oaths had been broken.
"I
wanted you to know," she said softly, "in case you wish for me to
leave. I
know most of the other former Aes Sedai will see me as something
horrible
now. The three oaths are what defines most of us."
the
golden ring off of her finger and dropped it onto her lap. "I
suppose
I
have no right wearing this anymore," she said. "No one would
blame you
if
you told me to leave. I have caused nothing but trouble for you,
and
the
Black Tower. When this mission is over, we can break the bond
and I
will
leave." She stared down at the great serpent ring and tried to
keep
the
tears from falling.
aka Myiona
Dragonsworn
It
had a pleasing aroma and she smiled softly at the Dragonsworn that
had
offered it to her. "Thank you," She mumurered before Talia began
speaking
once more.
"I could truly use some help, though what they had
to offer at the
White
Tower didn't do a thing for me." Rai confessed almost in a whisper.
"I'd
trained for some years at the White Tower before the break, but to
no
avail.
I was blocked, and blocked pretty badly. Then I spent a good amount
of
years
locked up in a Library before I came to your Black Tower.
"It almost seems as if whatever anyone does it helps
nothing at
all. I've
channeled once in my life, and even then it was weak. Much to weak
to
do any
good for what I'd been trying to do." Rai looked up at Talia with wide
wet
eyes. "Do you think you could do something?"
about
the practices of the White Tower. He knew the Ajahs, the Warder
bond,
and a
few other things he had picked up from the Aes Sedai who had joined
the
Black
Tower, but that was all. He was certain, however, that Three
Oaths,
once
taken, were inviolate. If Myiona was somehow free of them, was
no
longer
"Aes Sedai" in the strictest sense...
He finally spoke "Do you remember when we first
met? I was a
nervous
Soldier sent out to find a Novitiate who had gotten separated from
the
group.
I had no idea who you really were. It was only later, when
you showed
me
your ring and told me about the danger you sensed that I realized the
flirtatious young Domani woman who made my face burn whenever I was
around
her was an Aes Sedai
"I was shocked, of course. Why would a male
channeler trust a
woman from
the White Tower? But I remained at your side. We fought
together,
faced
death together, yet when I became an Asha'man, I bonded you and let
you
bond
me.
"We were complete opposites, We've been friends
and lovers, but we
have
had truly memorable arguments and fights as well," his eyes got a
faraway
look as he recalled all the missions they had gone on, all they danger
they
had faced, both alone and together, even from each other.
"Now, after all this time, you've shown me your
ring again"
Mura'shar
picked up the golden Great Serpent ring and looked at it. An
ancient
symbol
of the Aes Sedai, perhaps older than the Age of Legends.
"If I could go through all that, knowing you were
an Aes Sedai,
what
difference would your not being Aes Sedai make?" He took her
hand with
one
of his and put the ring back on her finger.
"Myiona, if I were to send you away because you
were no longer Aes
Sedai,
doesn't that mean I'd have to send Tareena away as well? And
Alcinia,
Talia,
and all the others who weren't trained or weren't fully trained at
the
White
Tower? No, the only way I'd let you go is if you betrayed me
or the
Black
Tower. And you have never given me reason to doubt you there."
Tears were forming in Myiona's eyes. He gently
wiped them away.
"It's
not Myiona Sedai of the Green Ajah, I care about, or Myiona the Marked
Dragonsworn that I love. It is Myiona Shallon. Just stay
her, and we
will
be fine."
He kissed her forhead. "We don't have to tell
anyone if you don't
want
to. We can keep it our secret."
M'Hael
She had gulped down the foul tasting mixture that was given to her,
hoping it would eliminate her seasickness. Her past experiences
made her
dread another voyage.
cabins. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she went back
on deck
hoping at least the fresh air would help.
quarterdeck watching the setting sun paint the emerald waters a hundred
hues
of gray. The members of the... Storm team he had heard them call it,
had been
moving over every part of the ship from the time they'd boarded. And
more
then a little over the side as well. He never understood how a person
could
feel sick in one of the most beautiful places in the world. Still there
was a
young man in a black coat not 10 paces away offering his dinner back
to the
sea. Anastin stood and walked to the man's side.
"You sir, what's your name?"
"Stefan," he managed to get out between the contractions of his stomach.
"Stefan, may name is Alemin, would you like some help with your...
condition?"
that
many of the Dragonsworn did not train in the White Tower, and they
were
still allowed to be a part of the Black Tower. It was not like
she
would
turn into a monster without the three oaths to bind her. In some
ways
it
would make their missions easier. Her inability to lie had caused
some
problems in the past, though she could work her way around an outright
lie
most of the time.
could make the Asha'men more nervous around me, especially our new
recruits.
I hope I have proven myself to the others enough that they trust
me.
If
not, there is little I can do to make that right."
should
continue to wear this though I feel I do not deserve it anymore," the
Domani
said. "When I first left, I hated the place and what they did
to me.
Now,
I think of it fondly at times. I did make some friends there,
and
learned
how to channel. All that happened led me here to you, and how
can I
regret
that."
we
will be needed on deck anytime soon?" she asked as she moved over to
sit on
the bed beside him. "I just thought we could see how comfortable
the
bed
is."
aka Myiona
Marked Dragonsworn
Wildly Wicked Domani
smile over the sound of the wind and sea. The Wavemistress smiled
in
return before barking commands to several crew members up in the rigging.
The sails snapped catching the breeze causing the ship to surge
forward. It was exhilarating.
Aes Sedai had travelled extensively and held a fondness for open sea
sailing. A pleasure she was not often able to indulge.
With a grin, she
watched the ship's Windfinder deftly weave the cable-thick flows of
air
that allowed the Sea Folk vessel to race toward their destination,
Shara.
society so alien from their own as to boggle the mind. The Arafellan
quickly ran down the list of former Browns in the Black Tower.
They
would find the whole thing riveting. A walled city filled with
lying
peddlers and treachery. Sounded like a summer fair in Murandy.
Oh, well.
They had their orders and ter'angreal were best kept away from the
Shadow and its minions.
her leave and headed below decks passing several members of the Tower
who
had discovered that the fresh open air was far more tolerable than
the
close confines of the raker's cabins.
cabin was located, La'rece paused at the door to Myiona's cabin.
Given
the ship's configuration, there was more space in the passageway than
in the cabins. Tight quarters they called it. Very tight,
indeed.
below to her cabin. Hopefully, the air was indeed finally cleared
for
the former First. Wanting to see firsthand how her friend was
doing,
La'rece rapped her knuckle on the cabin's door.
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
missed some…please make sure the most recent list includes me!
:)
the rush of wind and the lunging bow did not bother Stefan's stomach
as much.
But time on the sea was short before he joined two others in offering
their
meager meals to the fish. What was it the one deck hand told his mates
on the
deck? Ah yes, break out the poles theres chum off the stern port? What
did he
mean by that?
Stefan tried to focus on the land, the horizon, on anything that didn't
bob
or weave, but to no avail. A couple of the more sea hardy Storm Team
members
were snacking on something that Stefan did not want to think about,
and all
the while smacking their lips in sadistic joy.
Stefan leaned on the railing, giving up all to the rolling sickness
that
engulfed his mind and body. A voice at his shoulder dragged him back
to
consciousness.
"My name," Stefan looked bleary eyed at the face," Stefan," he choked
out.
Great, another BT member to chide and harass the new recruit.
"Stefan, my name is Alemin, would you like some help with your... condition?"
Stefan's mind lurched with the thought of one of the other BT members
offering a cure for his condition...pickled squid...was what he thought
the
man had said. Didn't really matter because the Asha'man held up a ten
legged
nightmare that reeked of pickling juice and had a large accusing eye.
That
brought guffaws until Mura'shar put an end to it.
"If it's pickled squid, go away. If it's that foul tea," Stefan turning
his
head back to the sea," it doesn't work either."
the open sea?)
sea breeze, but he did it anyway. He also knew it would take several
hours to
comb the tangles out. The last sea voyage Aramis had taken was more
than five
or six years ago, when he had sailed from Tear to Ebou Dar with his
father,
trading Andoran wool for Tairen carpets in Tear, then trading the carpets
in
Ebou Dar for a myriad of porcelain finery, liquors, and other stuffs
not
found commonplace in Andor.
But that was a long time ago. Now, he
stood on the deck of a sea Folk
ship (he missed the name) that was really quite crowded with passengers.
Too
crowded, really, but it didn't matter.
The Storm Team had been to sea for about
two hours. Aramis wished he
knew how long they would be at sea. He'd read all of his books, it
was too
crowded to work sword forms, and his bondmate, who was a little green
around
the gills, wouldn't want to talk.
This would be a long trip.
Marked Asha'man bonded to Alcinia
Myiona
muttered something stronger as they sat up. She hurriedly began
straightening her dress while Mura'shar pulled his coat back on.
When they were both presentable, Mura'shar let the
ward against
eavesdropping drop. He unlatched the door and opened it.
"Ah, La'rece. Come on in. Can we help
you with something?"
M'Hael
less
settled into their temporary accommodations. For those who weren't
painfully
seasick, this was actually turning out to be a fairly pleasant trip,
as
far
as extended sea voyages went.
Speaking of which... Mura'shar had reached
the miserable looking
Soldier
Stephen. No one had bothered him about his sea-sickness since
he broke
up
that "pickled squid cure" But that didn't help Stephen's condition
any.
It was a long voyage, both to and from Shara.
Perhaps this would
be a
good time to get to know some of the Soldiers.
"I see you and the sea still aren't agreeing with
each other"
Mura'shar
observed in a friendly tone "Perhaps you need a distraction.
Come, a
lesson
in the One Power is just what you need. What do you know how
to do so
far?
will
last, so I decided (unless there's any objections) to put a definite
time
date on it. So, two weeks from today I will RP our arrival at
Shara,
and
we'll continue from there.
M'Hael
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
Arafellan could barely contain her grin but tried her best knowing
that if she
did not she would likely find herself in dangerous waters. Her
friend's temperament had been unreadable since the incident at the
Stedding
and the use of the angreal by the women in the Tower.
already 'cozy' cabin and spoke from just inside the doorway.
"I was just
stopping by to see how you were faring, Myiona. Judging by the
general
color of the Tower's members uptop, a startling shade of green … somewhat
like new spring moss, it looks to be a fairly long trip for some. "
Raising an eyebrow at the Asha'man, she added, "Including this one
here!
How's that stomach, Mura'shar? No problems, I hope."
La'rece. But how's a gal from Arafel handling the open sea?!"
particularly high surge then dropped quickly down as the strong seas
kept the
raker moving in powerful upward and downward motions as the vessel
flew
through the open water. With a cocky grin, La'rece replied "Well
… what
can I say? You know what they say about us gals from Arafel and
the
sea … 'As though to the manner born'"
voyage, even the Arafellan could not hide the tightness around her
eyes, an indication that even she was beginning to feel the effects
of the
rapid transit to Shara by ship. "Perhaps you would like to run
through
some sword practice on deck, La'rece Are you up to it?"
Mura'shar and while she did not particularly worry about her own hide
if she
took the man up on his offer, Myiona knew La'rece had no designs on
Mura'shar, she was not certain the Asha'man would survive her friend's
wrath if La'rece took him up on his offer. With a subtle wink
to Myiona,
the red-haired Dragonsworn said, "Perhaps later, Mura'shar. After
your
afternoon … practice." With a gentle smile for Myiona, La'rece
left
closing the door behind her.
all about?"
she meant, all thoughts of La'rece and what she said left Mura'shar's
mind…
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
line
of women seated in a circle on the deck of the Sea Folk raker.
Tareena
barely noticed the rise and fall of the waves but looking around her
she
could see that some of the women didn't share her comfort level.
Still,
lessons were hard to come by at the best of times and they couldn't
afford to
waste time when it was offered to them. Seating herself once
more
Tareena
began to weave, feeling sweet saidar fill her and enhance the smell
and
sights around her. Tying off her weave she turned to her pupils
and
awaited
their questions.
After having dismissed her class, Tareena
moved once again to her
new
found place along the rails and stared pensively out at the sea.
For
miles
there was nothing but the gray color of the water and the sun creating
twinkling lights reflected upon the water. On the outside her
face was
serene, time and experience blending itself into her mask that faced
the
world. On the inside, she fought a wave of loneliness so strong
it
threatened to overwhelm and drag her under. She missed her bondmate,
pure
and simple. She could feel Darren's presence inside her head
which was
reassuring but still, it wasn't enough. She also missed his mirror
twin,
Arran. She had come to love the Ashaman almost as much as her
bondmate. Of
course, one of the other Ashaman had volunteered to be her "guard,"
so
to
speak, if it came to physical combat but it just wasn't the same.
There was
no one that she trusted with her life more than her bondmate and Arran.
The sun set on another day at sea.
this one.
Guardian of the Black Tower
Bondmate to mia Marked Ashaman Darren Sadke
Durial could see was the cloud of regurgitated food that had flown
back at
his face.
Wiping it away with a bright red scarf,
a gift from one of the Sea
Folk women, he gave retching Asha'man a forced smile and stepped to
the other
side of the ship, where a quiet young woman stood bravely looking out
over
the water. He noticed the green tinge that covered her face (a
color, that
was getting rather hard to distinguish any more, since everyone seemed
to be
slightly green), and made a mental note of her condition.
Later that evening, as he was dishing
up supper in the galley, he
pulled her aside and pulled out a small packet of herbs. "I noticed
that you
were a little green up there on deck.....Alcinia, isn't it? Well,
if you
want anything, I have it here." He patted his vest. "Feel
free to ask
anytime."
As she went to sit at a bench, he noticed
that a couple other people
looked quickly away, and Durial hid a smile. Looks like you're
going to get
a few more orders there, old man.
heaved himself out of bed and found his way to the deck. I'll
NEVER get used
to all of this bloody swaying.
The night was beautiful. The waxing
half moon shone over the water
with a silver sheen that he had never seen equaled on any of his mountain
lakes. He was still staring at the moon's trail when a squeaking
sound from
below just about sent him overboard. Peering cautiously over,
he saw several
small fins cutting the water alongside the ship. One of them
jumped out of
the water, giving the squeaking sound again. Durial leaned back,
letting his
heart slow. That wouldn't have been too good, would it?
Falling overboard
on your first night out? And you've got to make it till that
moon's full!
A soft laugh behind him made him spin
(as quickly as he could, that
is). The Sea Folk woman that had spent some time "acquainting"
him with the
ship stood there, looking almost formidable in the dim light.
She was an
apprentice of the Windfinder, and already a skilled weaver of Water
and Air,
almost enough to go out on her own.
"So the mountain man has never seen
a porpoise, has he?" She grinned.
"Never, ma'am." He always used
a title of some sort. Durial was no
fool. The woman held a considerably higher station than he did.
That didn't
seem to stop her from flirting with him, though.
"Perhaps you would like to see more
of the ship?" she asked coyly.
"No thank you, ma'am. I was just
headed below." Blood and ashes,
maybe I was a little TOO friendly.
"You would leave a woman alone on such
a beautiful night?" She leaned
forward, so that he could feel her breath on his face.
"I'm quite tired ma'am. This crew
has quite an appitite, and they
keep me very busy. I just need some sleep now, so if you'll excuse
me......"
"I think you want to come with me, mountain
man." Her voice held a
rather unfriendly tone to it now, and she was fingering the knife at
her side.
Though he had spent little time amongst
people, Durial knew trouble
when he saw it. "I think I've seen all I need to." He purposely
left out
the "ma'am" to test her.
"You hide many secrets, little man,
and I think you mean to keep them.
But should I let you? I think not." She shook her
head. "You should have
never let me in your room, channeler. The Great Lord doesn't
like having
capable men working for the Light. You're out of options now,
you fool.
Even YOU aren't stupid enough to channel here. Will it be the
Shadow in
life, or the Shadow in death?"
This was getting rapidly out of control.
He looked around quickly.
Only the Sailmistress and the Windfinder were in sight now, though
undoubtedly someone was up in the sails, in that weird thing the Atha'an
Miere liked to call the crow's nest. His secrets were exactly
as he meant to
leave them: his alone.
He gave her his most winning smile as
he reached up slowly to finger
the chain around his neck and channeled without warning. The
chain would
only dampen the feel of the Source, not totally block it. The
only good
thing to come out of the ruins of Manetheren. With quick, deft
motions,
Durial surrounded the woman's head in a complex weave of Fire and Spirit.
Something like Compulsion, but different, it "encouraged" the subject
to veer
away from certain thoughts. Her mind was a mess of dark, spiteful
emotions,
but thankfully, no other webs of the Power. He pulled the net
tight, and
pushed away the Source quickly.
The dark woman blinked once, and tried
to focus on his face, but then
grabbed her head. He gave her an empty smile and said "Was there
something
you wanted, ma'am?"
She only looked at him and shook her
head, muttering as she walked
away.
Durial sank backwards against the railing,
all thoughts of moonlight
and sleep gone. Who had sent her? If it was a highly ranked
Darkfriend, why
not just get one of the Forsaken to beef up a REAL assassin?
And why would
the Dark One trust such an assassination to someone so unable?
Whoever her
master was, he was well informed. Too well informed, as a matter
of fact.
Durial didn't like killing people, because
it made a mess. He hoped
that it wouldn't come down to that. But this was war. And,
worse yet, a war
that no one could afford to lose.
He only had a second to realize how
comfortable he was before the
rocking of the ship had put him to sleep.
lost.
--heard throughout Fairfield, Conn on the evening of April 29, 2001
Is the memory of the sorrow it brings."
--Counting Crows
deck crew standing "down beam" of him with those logs they called fishing
poles waiting and betting how much he would empty himself. And what
type of
fish they would catch with the contents of his stomach.
I hate you all, the thought rose unbidden, and unrebuked, in his mind.
Mura'shar came up on deck, strolling. Strolling!
How can anyone stroll on a heaving deck that moved in more ways than
a Domani
dancer.
"I see you and the sea still aren't agreeing with each other" Mura'shar
observed in a friendly tone "Perhaps you need a distraction.
Come, a lesson
in the One Power is just what you need. What do you know how
to do so far?
Stephen tried to meet Mura'shar's eyes like a man facing death, but
the look
Mura'shar gave him was the one of an observer pitying the passing of
an old
friend.
"Try," was all that Mura'shar said.
Stephen nodded and let the void appear. Emptiness, silence, calm. Mentally,
preparing for battle, he started working the forms in his mind he let
saidin
pour through him. The spirit, fire, water, air, earth, and spirit began
cocooning him in a spiderous web of pulsing veins, tighter and
tighter.....snap!
Stephen was on the deck looking dizzily up at Mura'shar, the shield
disappearing even as he looked up.
"That was good," Mura'shar said thoughtfully," but why don't we start
with
something easier.Form the void again and this time do as I tell you."
Aramis into finding out more about the Sea Folk.
They were sailors, obviously, but they
were fluid grace right down to
the bone. Their ages varied, some had grey streaks in their sun-bleached
blonde hair, while others looked to be barely old enough to leave home.
Most
seemed reluctant to speak to Aramis at any great length, most saying
something to the effect of "I must work, if it pleases the Light",
and
ignored anything else he said.
The other problem was that the women
had all doffed their blouses,
making conversation awkward for those who weren't used to the custom.
Aramis
buttoned his coat up, just for good measure.
There was one fellow who took the time
to carry on a conversation,
however. He was an older man, old enough to be Aramis' father, he guessed,
who introduced himself as Terrin din Tauro Bluewave, Master of the
Blades.
To his credit, he looked the part. In
addition to the bright silk
sash-and-trousers common to the entire crew, he also bore several earrings
and a massive sword on his back. A long, puckered, and freshly healed
scar
slashed across his chest.
"In the past," Terrin explained, "these
waters were among the safest
to sail. That was until this past summer, when brigands began infesting
this
water like silverpike in a delta. Usually that sort give the Athan'miere
a
wide berth. Usually." He grinned, grimly. "One ship bore down
on us, flying
pirate colors. As he drew near, we could see that his decks were lined
heavily with arbalests." Aramis frowned, unsure what exactly an arbalest
was,
until Terrin explained. "An arbalest is a heavy crossbow that shoots
a short
iron spear instead of a bolt or pile. Pirates attach chains at the
end and
use them to grapple other ships. Normally, our Windfinder can call
the winds
to speed our escape, but we were mending sail and could not raise them
in
time.
As the pirate ship drew along side,
he fired a volley from the
arbalests not into the deck, as was expected, but across the deck."
He made a
broad sweeping gesture with his arm. "Much like sweeping away ants
with a
broom. We lost several of the crew, and I almost joined them." He pointed
to
the slash on his chest. "Several of their crew tried to board us, but
by this
time our Windfinder broke the masts and set his sails on fire. Most
of the
ship was aflame by the time we lost sight of them, but you could see
the
smoke for miles."
Aramis, intent on the story, barely
noticed when the former Asha'man,
Durial?, approached Alcinia, who stood further up the deck. Sea adventures
forgotten, Aramis wondered why he would dislike the man so much, or
why he
found himself jealous for the attention of a bondmate he had never
really
shared a relationship with.
After that, Aramis gave only a vague
pretension of listening to the
stories of the bronze man with his scar and big sword, and watched
his
bondmate, instead.
Bonded to Alcinia
Perhaps being over-protective ;-)
claustrophobic broom closet where she slept at night and moped about
all day,
catching up on a few books she had pilfered - borrowed! - from the
Tower's
wholly inadequate library.
Somehow, for some reason, she was startled
that there was no land in
sight. Perhaps she had expected the ship to hug the shore all the way
to
Shara, although why she thought that was beyond her. For a cringeing
moment,
Elois expected to here the alto voice of her sul'dam, and the proprietory
tug
of that evil silver collar around her neck. But of course...
The only tug she felt was the harsh
sea wind trying to flip her silk
skirts above her head. With a mortified oath, the Dragonsworn was forced
to
stoop over and grab the white material in both fists and awkwardly
clutch it
around her knees. She was narrowly saved from toppling overboard by
the
saving grace of the railing. She let out an undignified squawk as she
tilted
backwards, before her hips bumped against the solid wood. With Aes
Sedai
calm, as if nothing happened, Elois leaned against the wood, her skirt
pinned
behind her against the rail to deny the wind an opportunity to further
embarrass her. This is why I love sailing...
Mura'shar was impressed with the weave the soldier
had demonstrated. He usually didn't use more than one flow of saidin
at a time when creating a protective shield. But all five would have certain
advantages as well. Certainly when multiple attacks were coming at
you...
When he felt Stephen fill with the One Power again,
Mura'shar began guiding him through some exercises. He wanted to
gauge just how much he had learned so far, how much he could hold.
"Try to follow this weave. Do as I do" Mura'shar
instructed him. He wove a simple flow of fire above his hand, and a small
ball of fire appeared, no bigger than an Andoran crown. He then did
some simple tricks. He altered the weave a bit to make it brighter
or dimmer, bigger and smaller. Then he moved it about so that it
made small circles above his hand, then it came to a rest and winked out
of existence.
"Try to do that. It needn't be exact, but
I want to see how much fine control you have with saidin before we try
anything more advanced"
M'Hael
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
"I guess I'm a slow learner," murmured Stephan.
Not fishing for a compliment, just that Stephan had come to know himself
quite well. He knew learning was something that did not come quickly for
him as for others, on the other hand once learned, never forgotten.
"I got other things on my mind," whispered Mura'shar," I'm watching
you. Keep doing it."
Stephan nodded. Mura'shar was intense, and Stephan could see it in
his eyes. Definitely a man to be respected and possibly trusted.
"Mura'shar," Stephen spoke quietly," I was an Officer in the Tower
Guard."
Quickly looking around to see if anyone was near he continued,"I was
there when the...rebellion occured." Mura'shar just watched and listened.
"I killed several warders, and one sister...a yellow. They were rebels,
they...I had my duty to do. To protect the Am...I don't know if the
Tower knows, or cares, that I'm alive or dead. But this I do know there
are Aes...sister here on this boat travelling with us and I don't trust
a one of them. They could be secretly working for the new...arrrgh, the
usurper. What I'm trying to say is that I'm nervous and a bit twitchy around
them. They're unreadable to me. Who knows what goes on in their heads.
I'm afraid that I might find myself trapped like that rat they found in
amongst the ropes. Beat over the head and tossed to those nasty looking
things down in the water." The flame gone, and the fear plainly written
across his face, Stephan's mind ran wild with his conscience berating his
mouth for letting that secret out. He had to share that part of his past
with his commander. He had to get it off his chest. What was it that one
deck hand said to him," a dragging anchor will always rip a ship apart."
Stephan did not want to be that anchor.
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
complex flow of weaves that she was trying to achieve. It was
amazing to
the Domani how free her mind now felt without the three oaths holding
her.
She could perceive new and better ways of doing almost everything.
The
dragonsworn knew that the oaths had not actually kept her mind enslaved,
but
she did feel that she had more options now.
sigh. She hated the hollow feeling left behind after spending
a great deal
of time using the power, but also knew the dangers of drawing more
than she
could handle. She stood and brushed the wrinkles out of her green
silk
dress before heading out onto the deck to see what was going on.
over the the rail and peered into the dark depths below. Her
sense of
isolation had not lessened even after she had proved that she did not
seek
to harm anyone at the Black Tower. In fact, she felt even more
isolated.
She was no longer Aes Sedai, and the other members of the Black Tower
still
seemed suspicious of her. Twirling a tendril of dark hair around
her
finger, the Domani wondered how she might regain the trust of her friends.
aka Myiona
Marked Dragonsworn
bondmate the the man, Mura'shar
"I wouldn't worry too much about the past.
The Lord Dragon's amnesty protects you. And besides, whatever faction
the Aes Sedai here were originally, they belong to the Black Tower, and
I can personally vouch for all of the ones on board now..."
Mura'shar shut his mouth as La'rece approached.
He was fairly certain Stephen's past would be of no particular concern
to her, but this was Stephen's story to tell, not Mura'shar's.
They chatted for a short time, and Mura'shar had
an amusing moment at La'rece's comment about bonding to Stephen. Some Soldiers
would have leaped overboard and swam the rest of the way to Shara at that.
After the Dragonsworn left, Mura'shar continued.
"Wherever the Dragonsworn came from originally, be it the White Tower,
the rebels, wilders, Aiel, or even Seanchan, They are all part of the Black
Tower now, and subject to its laws. You don't have to reveal your
past to anyone. The Light knows I've got a few secrets I'd rather
not get out.
"But if any Aes Sedai do find out about you and
give you a hard time, come to me. Or Tareena. I can tell you
from personal experience she is very firm with the Dragonsworn who break
rules"
That last part came dangerously close to some unpleasant
memories, so he changed the subject. "You are doing well with your lesson
so far, so let's try something a bit more advanced. Shielding.
Now watch closely. Done properly, or even improperly, this can be
very dangerous to your target. You can sever someone form the Source
forever rather than simply block access..."
M'Hael
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
He watched Mura'shar, and that strange woman walk by.
Can she channel, thought Stefan, and what was her name again? Lara?no,
Lin?no. Hmm, a mystery woman
Stefan shook his head. The fog of the trip was slowly slipping away,
and his stomach seemed alot better. He decided to walk with the mountain
man who seemed to want to look at the markets. Fine with Stefan.
Going aboard, Stefan grabbed his two swords, fashionably undid his
top three buttons of his black wool coat and caught up to the mountain
man.
"Lets go!"
Light, how did I miss THAT? The
walled port (Durial was pretty sure that no one actually knew its real
name) loomed on the north horizon, as menacing as the clouds that scudded
there way to the east. The Asha'man and Dragonsworn were all coming
up to see the city, and a few ragged cheers went up, though most just gave
a sickly grin and stumbled back belowdeck.
After they had tied off all of their
lines, Mura'shar came up from below to talk to the Sharan emissary that
had been waiting at the end of the dock. After a quiet conversation,
Mura'shar bowed to the Sharan and turned to face his attentive crowd.
"I am going ashore with Narnek to verify
that there are in fact ter'angreal to be bought here. I'll need a
few volunteers to go with me to speed the process. Everyone else
may stay on the ship or visit the markets. But be careful.
This is an unfamiliar land and the merchants here have a reputation," he
announced.
Durial grinned despite himself.
He had heard several things about the Sharan markets, and since it appeared
his soups wouldn't be needed at the moment, he figured he might as well
enjoy his stay. He went below to grab some pouches of coin and came
back above deck and stood just to Mura'shar's left.
He grinned as he called out to those
who weren't going with the tsorovan'm'hael. "Anyone want to join
me for a little stroll in the market?"
Manetherenjosh
--heard throughout Fairfield, Conn on the evening of April 29, 2001
Is the memory of the sorrow it brings."
--Counting Crows
Guardian of the Black Tower
Bondmate to Darren Sadke
early in life to observe and be aware of every possible opportunity,
yet to
appear disinterested and aloof. Though she had not mastered the
skill as
well as her aunt, she was not a novice at this task.
mystery and hide his reactions from the members of the tower.
She only
hoped that the sound of his voice would give her some clues to what
he was
thinking.
said simply. She looked up into his eyes daring him to refuse
her her
rightful place at his side.
activity in the trade area. She wondered what the other traders
thought of
the Sharans. Did they fear outsiders and the contamination they
would
bring? Or, did they keep themselves aloof for other reasons?
building that touched the wall. Warning them to stay with him
at all times,
he led them into the darkness of the warehouse. The room that
held the
cache of ter'angreal was lit by a few odd lights. Myiona wondered
what
power fueled them, but the haphazard pile of ter'angreal stole her
attention
away from anything else.
carefully. This seemed to have been thrown here as if the bearers
feared
touching it longer than absolutely necessary.
reason. We must all exercise great care in checking them out."
aka
Myiona
Marked Dragonsworn
reason. We must all exercise great care in checking them out."
"Agreed" said Mura'shar. He saw a couple of
other shapes in a far corner. Two other Sharans, also heavily cloaked
and veiled. One in green, one in gold. They stood by three
large, empty boxes.
Narnek wanted to begin bargaining immediately, demanding
an insane sum for the pile. Mura'shar was told to expect something
like this.
"Not one coin changes hands until we have had a
chance to examine your wares" for all he knew, the Sharans were just playing
at being frightened and they were looking at a pile of worthless rubbish.
Narnek shrugged. With his deep robes, it was
impossible to tell if he was embarrassed, angry, or resigned. Mura'shar
suspected he wasn't embarrassed.
"Everyone start checking these out, make sure they
are what we came here for. But be careful, and don't examine them
to close to the pile. We don't want any mishaps with two ter'angreal
resonating. Mura'shar selected an item and went off a short distance to
check it out.
It was a large golden platter, like what a family
would serve a goose or a turkey on. Etched on the face of the platter
was "Plenty" in the Old Tongue. Narnek "helpfully" came over and
told him that according to legend, if one were to place a bit of food on
it, and channel the right flow, that bit of food would become a repast
that could serve ten people. But Mura'shar could sense nothing about
the platter. It was gold, and one could get a good bit of coin in
selling it, but it was clearly not a ter'angreal. Mura'shar put it
aside.
Others also proved worthless. Odds and ends were
added to the pile to inflate the price for the goods. Others were
genuine, even if they couldn't figure out exactly what they were for.
But with everything, they were very careful.
Still, mishaps were inevitable. Mura'shar
was examining a bracelet made to look like a ring of toadstools.
It was a genuine ter'angreal, he could tell that much.
"I think this was designed for Illusions" Mura'shar
exclaimed. He was certain of it. Illusion was a Talent of his.
HE channeled a tiny flow of Fire and Air...and was startled by the gasps
and guffaws around him.
He looked up and saw Myiona staring at him.
A little further away Elois had her hand over her mouth, trying not to
laugh. Mura'shar looked around and saw that his hands were blue.
Rolling up one of his sleeves showed more blue. He was completely
blue from head to toe!
Muttering curses to himself, Mura'shar set the bracelet
aside. He would figure out how to change himself back later, if it
didn't wear off on its own. But for now, he had to check other items,
and not experiment until they were safely on the ship.
blue M'Hael
The Taraboner sensed his fiery-haired
companion was uncomfortable, no matter how bonelessly graceful she appeared,
watching the anonymous Sharans move past. Well, he couldn't blame her;
not one member of the Tower was at ease in this unwelcoming land. Servalien
mentally urged Mura'shar's party to be quick with every other breath. Ignoring
the heat was not working, and the natives were giving him the creeps.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It was a ter'angreal, she had known
before she donned it. Although, she was no Brown, she was dangerously curious
about what the large amount of ter'angreals they had already discovered
were meant for. It was bloody difficult to not experiment with them here
and now. The blue figure of their storm team leader across the room was
a good inducement to be cautious, though.
Regardless, as the lamplight caught
on the blue schiller, Elois frowned. For a moment, she thought she caught
a flicker of her own reflection in the gemstone. Without thinking, she
finessed a hair-thin finger of Spirit into the heart of the stone. With
a concentration so rapt that she dimmed out the sounds and sights of the
cramped room, Elois stared into the moonstone. The edges of her vision
turned smoky, then blackened, and slowly narrowed...
A small shriek from one of the other
women with their party was sufficient to startle the Amadician out of her
self-imposed hypnosis. She shook her head to clear it, and took a few unsteady
steps toward her unfortunate comrade. It appeared she and Mura'shar weren't
the only ones foolish enough to fiddle with the ter'angreal. The Dragonsworn,
Enpeecy, had burnt her fingers on a small china statuette ter'angreal of
a woman pointing into the distance. Elois stepped up to Heal her with a
fond chastisement, forgetting about the moonstone ter'angreal snug on her
finger.
"You like?" the vendor spoke in a slightly accented, and husky voice.
"Oh yes," Stefan smirked with twinkle in his eye.
"Be careful," the vendor looked from the shadows of the cowl into Stefans
eyes, "The Shadow awakens with the presence of the day."
Stefan looked around to see if anyone else noticed this, no one seemed
slightly interested in what was transpiring. Stefan turned to tell the
vendor that she, or he, had a penchant for the obvious when eyes fell on
an empty spot in front of him. Seeing he had the three pieces of fruit,
unpaid for, still in his hand he spun on his heels.
"Hey, Stefan!" One of the team called out to him," We don't have all
day!"
Stefan, frowning, walked away from the spot, still turning around to
see if he could spot the prickly fruit vendor.
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
for. But be careful, and don't examine them to close to the pile.
We don't
want any mishaps with two ter'angreal resonating."
could tell quickly the stones were flawed. Still, it might be
nice to wear
around the tower. She carried it a small distance from the others
and
channeled. Nothing! It was not a ter'angreal, but perhaps
she could
purchase it individually if nothing better caught her eye.
glanced over at Mura'shar. He skin color was surprising, though
she thought
it might be attractive with a few tattoos to go with the shade.
She raised
an eyebrow as he cursed and sat the ter'angreal aside.
small stack of barrels. Sitting down gracefully, she looked at
the figurine
carefully. There were no cracks or visible mars in the strange
looking
animal. She was about to check it with the power when one of
the
Dragonsworn cried out in pain. Seeing that Elois was handling
the healing
and chastisement, Myiona turned her own attention back to the statue.
tell immediately that it was made with the power. It almost seemed
to be
calling to her, whispering into her mind. Though she could not
tell what
the ter'angreal was intended for, the Dragonsworn channeled a tiny
flow into
it. Her mind was filled with voices, some quiet and some yelling.
Looking
around, Myiona could tell that no one else heard what she did.
Could she be
hearing the thoughts of other people?
aka Myiona
Marked Dragonsworn
Ariana wandered from stall to stall, looking, occasionally asking prices,
and doing her best to blend with the mixed crowd. It could be inconvenient
at the least to be pegged as a newcomer, or inexperienced. For the
thousandth time, she cursed her game leg, as her limping gait made her
more memorable to any whose eyes might fall upon her. But the curses
lacked conviction.
Beggars littered the street corners, as in any other city, and every
now and then she tossed a coin to one- but only the genuine ones.
Her time in beggar's guise, when escaping Elaida and her lackeys, had taught
her to recognize most of the tricks employed by the brethren of the gutter,
and she could tell flour-paste and cow's blood from real sores, a trickily
bound up leg from a true amputation.
Overall, Shara seemed so far like any other major dockside city.
Whether or not that impression would be borne out, well, they would learn
soon enough. She just had a hunch about that.
The Sharans had proven even
less helpful than he had feared. The ter'angreal, even the "fake"
ones seemed to intimidate them, and they would not approach any of them.
Half the things they said about them were obviously wild fantasies.
Much of the rest were either cryptic remarks or vague answers that could
mean anything.
He looked back at the pile of potential ter'angreal.
They had made a sizable dent in it, though quite a bit remained.
Nex to it lay two piles. One held what they would purchase for the
tower. The second, larger pile was what they determined to be totally
unrelated to the One Power. He noticed that Myiona and a couple of
other members of the Black Tower had put aside some items from that pile.
Well, a few souveniers wouldn't hurt, provided they got a fair price for
them. He wondered if he should mention to Elois that she still had
that moonstone ring on her finger.
His thoughts drifted back towards the ter'angreal
he held in his hand. It was a statue about the size of his hand.
It was of a crouching, skeletal figure of indeterminate gender. It
was a creepy looking thing he hoped was not really grinning at him.
He channeled a small flow of Spirit, the safest
to use around ter'angreal,as it was least likely to actually set something
off. For a moment he thought he saw fine tendrils of Water and Spirit,
with traces of the other Powers as well forming around it. The eyes
seemed to sparkle red and green. The lights swirled about in a dazling
pattern. Something was trying to get out, to reach for him...He shook
his head and the light was gone. it was just a statue again.
We've been going through these things for hours
Mura'shar thought to himself. He stood up and set aside the small
statuette and made an announcement.
"Blue face or not, I think it's time for me to take
a short break. I'm going outside for some air. If anyone
needs me, I'll be outside. He gestured for the Sharans to open the
door, which they reluctantly did.
Of course, he got quite a few stares as he leaned
against a wall of the warehouse and took deep breaths. He didn't
care. He would be out oof this city in a day or two at the most.
The statue hadn't really been looking at him, had it?
creeped-out, blue-faced M'Hael
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
A flash of sun glinting off of gold caught her attention
and she turned to the stall from which it came from. The Sharan standing
behind the stall was cloaked and hidden as they all seemed to be.
Nothing could be learned from their appearance, even to something as simple
as to their gender. Tareena moved closer, though, for their in the
middle was a pendant that was made in the shape of the dragon. Surprised
that she had found something of this nature here she began to haggle over
the price. Walking away with the pendant, feeling only slightly cheated
but not sure, she felt a since of satisfaction for finally finding something
she wanted to give to her bondmate, Darren.
Tareena gazed down at it with a small smile
on her face until a loud bang and raised voices caught her attention.
Sudden alarm ran through her as she frantically turned her head this way
and that knowing she would not see the other members of the tower and also
knowing as sure as she was standing there that the ruckus had something
to do with them. With a muffled curse she took off towards the sound.
Guardian of the Black Tower
Bondmate to Darren Sadke
"When do you think the'yre going to get back?" Arran idly asked. He
had begun to see some ways of blocking Darren's tactics, but he was also
sure that his interference-Talented alter self was just fooling around.
Darren released the power. "Well, it's not a big worry. Tareena doesn't
even have her heart rate up. It's hot, though."
"It's not the danger I'm talking about..."
Darren began to suspect that Arran was actually admitting to missing
Tareena. For their relationship had been awkward, as in his original portal-world
he had been married to her portal self. He had dealt with it by avoiding
admitting anything.
Arran continued, "After all, that storm team is the only one that accepts
me to any degree. I like you and all, but it's nice to have someone else
to talk to."
"I know the feeling." Darren had had a hard time speaking with anyone
else once the word got out that in addition to Arran's peculiarities such
as riding a Grolm he had been a darkfriend at one time. Just looking the
same was too close for most soldiers.
Suddenly, they looked up as someone Travelled into the gateway court
in front of them. Arran leapt to his feet to grab his glaive (a.k.a. ashandarei)
in case it would be needed (in all truth, hostiles probably wouldn't use
the gateway court - but don't argue with the military).
On the other side was a short line of soldiers, each loaded to the
gills with ter'angreal.
Now Darren sprang to his feet, as he saw a reaction between the gate
and some of the ter'angreal begin. "Stop!"
The lead soldier shrugged. "Cool it, we got the goods!"
Arran knew better than to second-guess Darran when he was using that
voice. He leapt. When Arran leaps, it isn't an ordinary jump. This one
was straight into the line, throwing them into a heap back on the other
side of the portal.
Darren was busy rushing trying to stop the reaction, whose consequences
he could not determine at all. Standing in the gate, he saw it begin to
unravel.
As Arran pushed the herd of soldiers away from the gate, Darren stablized
it.
A moment later, Darren tripped over the soldier who had Travelled in
the first place. He was kneeling on the ground with his hands on his ears.
Darren shook him. "You've got to release the gate yourself. If you don't,
I don't know what will happen."
The soldier abruptly released the Power, and the gate collapsed more
roughly than usual, producing a loud bang that echoed off the distant city
walls. Darren looked up.
"Where in the name of the light are we?"
----
Playing Darren Sadke, Bondmate of Tareena,
and Arran Sathki, his portal-stone twin
Tareena kept a stony face as she marched her
charges back to the dock. After having to pay an overwhelming amount
of coin to the stall owners for their time and trouble, she was in no mood
to here explanations of what had happened. One of them had tried
to explain and she had cut them off with a sharp downcast motion of her
hand. Reaching the docks, Tareena conferred with La'rece and the
decision was made to send the four back to the tower. Tareena watched,
barely suppressing a grin, as La'rece gave the foursome a stern tongue
lashing. As she was watching and listening, several Ashaman and Dragonsworn
appeared, carrying sacks of what Tareena assumed were some of the Ter'angreal
they had come for. The men confirmed this for her. Tareena
suggested that they take the Ter'angreal that had been gathered through
the gate when the other four were escorted back to the tower. An
Ashaman readied the flows and began to weave the gate to the Black Tower.
As the familiar surroundings came into focus Tareena took an involuntary
step forward. Standing in the clearing was her bondmate. A
smile lit her face but before she could register the joy of seeing him
again, disaster struck. Arran leaped and kicked the line of Ashaman
back from the gate. Darren and Arran leaped through and Darren spoke
to the Ashaman holding the gate. The gate disappeared and everyone
stood in shock, looking at the two men from the Black Tower. Darren
spoke first, asking where in the light they were. Tareena just stared
at him, wondering what in the world had just happened.
Guardian of the Black Tower
Bondmate to Darren Sadke
"This is outrageous!" Mura'shar fumed at the
latest offer of the Sharans. "For that much, we could buy the White
Tower itself..."
Myiona put a hand on his arm and began speaking
to the Sharans in much softer tones, playing the more reasonable buyer.
Mura'shar went off in a not-quite faked huff to let his bondmate do her
part in the negotiations.
They finally struck a fairly reasonable deal, and
began packing the real ter'angreal, plus a couple of pieces of jewelry
and whatnot the others spent their own money on, and packed them in smaller
sacks to bring back to the ship. Some of the Storm Team remained
to complete the work, while Mura'shar led those who volunteered to bring
the ter'angreal back to the dock.
Two of the Sharans were whispering to each other
as they left. Mura'shar held saidin to sharpen his hearing to their
words. But even then he could only catch snatches.
"This is madness....a bloodbath...worth four times.."
muttered one.
"It is the will of the Ayyad" said the other "...dozen
of them died ... are safe now, at least..." Mura'shar then passed
out of range of their voices.
Mura'shar wondered at that. Apparently they
got a better deal than he had realized. But some, at least, are just
as glad to see them gone. But who, or what, would the Ayyad be?
Someone with access to ter'angreal it would seem, if they allowed this
sale to proceed.
He was lost in speculation when they reached the
docks when he saw Tareena, La'rece, and a small crowd of Black Tower students.
It seemed they were in a bit of trouble, judging by their expressions and
La'rece's tone of voice.
Mura'shar saw no reason to interfere and agreed
it would be a good idea to send the first batch of ter'angreal straight
back to the Black Tower, along with the troublemakers. He didn't
want to Travel while in Shara, but he wanted an incident with the local
authorities even less. A quick gateway should not be a problem.
Apparently, it was a problem. Before he knew
what was happening, one of the items in his sack began to glow, and burn.
Peeking inside, he saw one of the ter'angreal, he couldn't tell which,
glowing white-hot. Others were reacting to that one as well.
The creepy-looking statue was staring at him again, and a burst of red-green
light lashed out, exploding from the sack, bathing Mura'shar and others
nearby in the light.
Two figures, as alike as twins, leaped through the
gateway telling everyone to get back. The gateway disappeared.
Then they looked about in confusion.
They were Darren and Arran. It was good to
see them, and Tareena will be glad of it, if not how they got here exactly.
Then he noticed that others had noticed the display and were staring at
them.
"I think we should finish our little shopping trip
and leave soon" Mura'shar announced. "Before we get into some serious
trouble" He wiped some sweat from his face. Was it hotter now than
it was just a few minutes ago?
____________________________
I've decided that our illustrious Mura'shar will be the first to be
infected by the plague ter'angreal. If anyone else wants to have
been bathed in its light, that's fine. Also, we can vary the symptoms
and effects and such, since this isn't really a natural disease.
Might make this even more interesting. Also, ten brownie points if
you can guess where the name of this rp comes from:)
M'Hael
Talia had, for the most part, kept herself away from other people.
Sea Folk and Tower members alike. For the entire journey, she had
stayed in quiet meditation upon things she really needed to think strongly
upon. Where her life was headed, for one thing. Serving the
Dragon Reborn had a purpose, of course, but.. there was something missing.
Talia didn't know what it could have been. She'd been letting her
hair grow a bit longer than usual.. and at that moment, she was twirling
her finger in one of the longer locks.
She could feel Alan. She always felt Alan. Despite the
fact that they had been bonded for what seemed an eternity, it still felt
as new as the day it had been done. A day on a journey much like
this one. After disembarking a Sea Folk vessel and pressing on into
strange territory for a while.. something had happened. Until that
point, she had hated Alan. Well, once Talia was truly honest with
herself, she had never really hated him. It was her way of keeping
him at bay... away.
It had taken her quite some time to get used to the constant presence
of men who could channel.. at that time, Saidin was still tainted.
Then, Alan started to 'grow' on her. As much as she had tried to
ignore how roguishly handsome he was.. and how his tilted grin always made
her smile despite how much she felt like growling..
So caught up in those memories, Talia had not noticed that they had
already arrived to their destination. Blinking, the Saldaean Dragonsworn
turned from her thoughts to reality and rose to find Alan.. When she came
on deck, Talia saw that Mura'shar and Myiona were already coming back to
the ship. (~Silly woman.. daydreaming the mission away..~)
There was also a bit of a commotion involving some of the younger members.
Her semi-clouded mind didn't care to think about that at the moment.
A flash of something caught her eye.. and Talia blinked away the stars
in her eyes. Rubbing the back of her hand across her eyes before
she turned once again to find Alan, Talia scolded herself for being such
a dull wit. (~I've got to start paying more attention to things..~)
~Talia Daimar~
<><
Despite her desire to escape from the tossing of the ship, the Mayene
thief refused to join the searchers or shoppers in town. There was
a feeling about this place that made her nervous. Alcinia sat on
the dock in an out of the way corner sharpening her knives. Her eyes
missed little of what was going on around her, though she appeared to be
concentrating on the task at hand.
Suddenly, light exploded from the small statuette bathing everyone
nearby in its greenish glow. As things calmed down and Saidar and
Saidin faded, a faint voice could be heard building in intensity.
"Um, excuse me … if you're all not TOO busy … could someone throw me down
a flaming rope!"
Feeling thoroughly water-logged, La'rece continued to cling to the
barrel. Her attempt at touching Saidar failed. Something seemed
to be … interfering with it. She was not shielded. The Source
was there. It was more like … a sprang ankle. The Dragonsworn
briefly wondered if it had anything to do with the odd greenish light she
had seen above her after her elegant plunge into the brackish bay.
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
Most of the ter'angreal had already
been taken back to the Sea Folk raker, but there had not been enough bags
to carry them all, so Elois and a handful of others from the Storm Team
twiddled their thumbs while one of the Sharans volunteered to get more.
After all, what was the cost of a few sacks next to the highway robbery
they'd pulled with the ter'angreal.
-*-
After grudgingly handing of the bag
of coins to the Sharans, Elois lifted one of the lighter sacks and was
ushered out of the gloomy building and out into the sweltering sunlight.
As the last of the Tower members made their way back to the docks, the
crowds of mostly natives parted around them almost as effectively as if
she had used saidar to form a protective bubble around them. Not that she
was complaning. She certainly didn't want to rub shoulders with the Sharans.
They were probably pickpockets, as well.
Elois slammed to a stop in the middle
of the street, with a start realizing why she was thinking of saidar. A
woman was channeling nearby, she could feel it. The men in her party gave
her curious, impatient looks which she ignored. The White had wondered
what exactly the Sharans did with their channelers; what was the system?
what was their place in this strange society?
The woman who was channeling, well...
she was only barely channeling. She seemed to be fumbling with saidar,
unable to hold on or form a proper weave. Elois frowned, and stared around,
brusquely ignoring the Sharans' attempts to herd her along.
Presently, a commotion tumbled through
the the curtained door of one of the buildings. A woman, and a man, being
dragged outside. The woman was screaming and flailing about. The man was
struggling against his captives' bonds, cursing in hatred. The woman had
lost her veil - if she'd had one - and her hood fell back from her face
as she fought, displaying strange markings... tattoos?
One of the men that was directing the
storm team shouted furiously at the knot of men, that were surely soldiers
or guards of some kind because they were plainly armed. The soldiers all
turned to look at her and her companions, some of the men from the Tower
gripped their swords uneasily, and the tattooed woman was wailing and fumbling
with the Power, and then one of the Sharan soldiers swiftly drew his sword
and ran her through. Right on the street.
Elois' mouth went dry and she swayed
under the relentless sun. The Sharans on the street turned their cowled
heads and gave the dead woman and the soldiers a very wide berth, scurrying
depserately by. A shocked murmur rose from the handful of men and women
from the Black Tower. One of the Soldiers took a step towards the Sharans,
but he was intercepted by one of the storm team's escorts.
"You will leave now. Return to your
ship." spoke one of the Sharans they had been trading with. His voice was
cold and definite. He looked as if he wanted to grab Elois and pull her
along, but the frigid Aes Sedai glare she shot him forced him to take a
half-step backwards.
The Sharan soldiers were carrying off
the dead woman's corpse and the man was moaning and crying, and one of
the soldiers raised his sword and Elois had to look away. The wince on
one of her companion's face told her that the man had met the same fate
as the tattooed woman.
The Amadician found her voice. "Let's
go." she urged her comrades gently. Then, in a voice that she meant their
guides to overhear, "There isn't anything we can do here. These Sharans
are truly barbaric, and unfortunately, there is no law that we can appeal
to." Although, Elois reasoned, the man and woman could very well have been
criminals for all she know. But she doubted that.
The Sharans seemed relieved when their
foreign charges started moving, but obvously they were uncomfortable and
angry that the execution had been viewed by foreign eyes.
-*-
At the docks, the Sharans swiftly disappeared
save one who warned in a tight voice that they leave immediately, and don't
leave their ship again and not to attempt to return.
"You couldn't pay me to return to this
beastly land." Elois muttered, reluctant to turn her back on the hostile
natives. But a dripping annoyed La'rece was being helped out of the bay,
and that was a welcome distraction. The Amadician didn't need to dwell
on the summary execution they'd just witnessed...
She passed her sack of ter'angreal off
to one of the other Tower members and walked over to La'rece. "What's going
on? What happened?" Elois asked the soaked Dragonsworn. "Do you really
think this is a time to take a dip? I know it's hot, but..." She kept a
straight face, barely, as La'rece glowered back.
~sorry, longer than I'd anticipated...
Just my luck. I visit a strange, exotic port
for one day and I get a strange, exotic bug.
He was rubbing his neck, trying to get the kinks
out of it, when he saw the Sailmistress and Windfinder walking by.
He headed towards them, wondering how big a "gift" it would take to persuade
then to let Darren and Arran travel with them. But then he saw they
were leading a man onto the ship.
Suddenly having a bad feeling about this, he called
out to them. "Sailmistress, what is going on? Who is this...person?"
"This is Farendar Orgunson. And he has requested
the gift of passage" the Sailmistress replied "And it is no concern of
yours. You have your cargo. That is your affair. Passengers
are mine.
"And do not worry about your friends, the twins,"
she continued They will be granted the gift of passage, as the rest of
your people. Though where we will fit them is a more interesting
question, if it pleases the Light"
Mura'shar was tired, sore, and irritable.
HE knew the Sailmistress was right. They could take anyone on board
they wish, and were placating him by letting his two friends on board for
nothing. He shot a murderous glance at this man, Saldaean by the
look of him.
"Let us get one thing straight, Farendar.
We are here on a sensitive mission, and you will do well to stay out of
our way. And the Light help you if you do anything to endanger our
goal!"
He let the Sailmistress get on with her business
with the new passenger as Elois approached the ship with the rest of the
ter'angreal. She stopped to talk to the still-drenched La'rece.
She, and the others, in fact, appeared troubled by something.
What now? He wondered to himself. He coughed
for a moment and went down to find out how the last transaction went.
And to get everyone ready to head home.
M'Hael
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
Sharans had tried to sell along with the real objects of power, Myiona
glared at the Sharans still conducting business on the dock.
She had half a
mind to give them a little pain to compensate for her own, but realized
it
would not help the situation. In fact, it would probably make
her even more
tired and irritable. Part of the problem was the feelings being
sent along
the bond from Mura'shar, who was plainly feeling even worse than she
was.
people below, with their constant bickering and moving seemed to upset
her
stomach. She wondered if perhaps whatever was bothering her bondmate
was
transferring to her. "Light blasted fools," she muttered under
her breath
not even sure who she was referring to herself. "I hope we get
out of here
soon. Something feels *wrong* here, and I am not sure how much
longer I can
stand it."
men flanking her. "We should talk," she said softly. "Come
to my cabin as
soon as possible. There is something going on here, in this place,
and I
think we should find out what it is. There is a way to *snoop*
without
being caught."
asked La'rece to also come to her cabin, telling her of her suspicions
and
asking her to bring whatever other dragonsworn she thought could aid
in
their search.
have asked La'rece and Tareena to meet with me in our cabin," she said.
"You will be able to find something else to do for awhile?" She
knew the
business of leading the team would probably keep him occupied for awhile
longer, and hoped it would give the women time to find out what the
Sharans
were trying to hide.
aka Myiona
"She does look like a wet cat," mused one.
Stefan nodded," Temper like one as well."
"I'm afraid we'd get scratch," came the reply from another.
"So do we listen to her meow," added the fourth," or do we dry the
little putty off?"
Mur'ashar walked by holding his head, "Pull her in and be quick about
it."
Stefan and the three jumped right away and hauled La'rece up onto the
deck.
"I will remember each and every one of you," she whispered," and be
sure that I do not see your face for the rest of this day."
Stefan knew murder when he saw it, especially on the face of a woman.
He picked at the sleeves of the other two and motioned the third to follow
him.
All four quickly disappeared down a hatch, followed by the comments
of a deck hand, "never seen rats run from a wet cat so fast as you four."
La'rece shot the deck hand a look that included him in the days tally
of faces she did not want to see.
The bag of coins clinked as Elois handed
it over to the robed Sharans. By the sound of the clinking, Jaren could
tell that there was quite a bit of money changing hands in the deal. He
had a knack for that sorta thing, knowing where there was a lot of money.
He was a thief before.
Jaren grabbed one of the bags of ter'angreal
and followed the other members of the Tower back towards the docks. Trailing
the other members, he saw how a pocket formed around them, without Sharans
wanting to be even close to them, as if they had some contagious disease.
Jaren thought to himself, ~That's right you bloody Sharans. We channel
the bloody One Power.~ Suddenly Elois stopped bringing the group
to a halt. Jaren was about to burst out, asking why they were stopping
in the middle of the bloody street, when a woman who was not hooded came
out of the build, as well as a man struggling against bonds. Strange markings
were on the woman's face, much like some sort of tatoo, by the look of
them. Jaren thought, ~What in the bloody heck!?!~ As soon as they came
out of the building and the commotion began to spread, an officer of sorts
by his tone of voice had called to one of his soldiers, Jaren guessed,
and the woman was ran through with a sword.
Jaren glared as they were order back
to their ship by one of the Sharans, and the man who had come out of the
building was killed right there on the street. Jaren heard a "Let's go"
from one of his Tower members, he thought it was Elois, and he turned and
followed. The only thing that came to mind was ~Boy, these Sharans sure
are a bloody barbaric people. I'm just as glad i don't have to bloody deal
with them like the Seafolk. They can have the trade for all I care.~
Finally they arrived back at the ship.
He dropped his bag of ter'angreal where they had put the others and walked
to the edge of the raker. He had no desire to touch the ter'angreal anymore.
Or deal with members of the Tower for that matter. He was only a Soldier
in the Tower, and he was unknown to most of the other members except as
a Soldier. ~Let them think what they bloody want to think.~ He looked over
the edge of the raker towards the sea. The sea was one thing that he could
relate with on this journey. THe sea had been the life of his parents and
would have been his if he hadn't gotten mixed in with the thiefcatcher
back in Tear. Unconciously he felt at the daggers hidden within the sash
at his waist. He left his own creation and weapon within the bunk he shared
with other Soldiers of the Tower. He didn't want to cause a stir among
the Sharans with the weapon he had fashioned himself, a quarterstaff with
half a foot long blades on both ends. With no weapon in sight, he'd seem
an easy target but he had two knives in his sash which he was very capable
of using and killing with, and there was always the Power. Jaren turned
back to the deck of the ship, he sat with his back resting against the
railiing along the edge of the ship. He ran his hand through his hair once
and sat back, pausing to adjust the eyepatch over his left eye, and remember
what gave him the long scar down his cheek.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jaren Oriste
Soldier
played by Fran
OOC: There it is. First rp back in the Tower.
Guardian of the Black Tower
Bondmate to Darren Sadke
All four quickly disappeared down a hatch. A nearby of a deckhand
sneered, "Never seen rats run from a wet cat so fast as you four."
La'rece shot the deckhand a look that included him in the day's tally of
faces she did not want to see.
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
Between channeling to save her skin from the furious
La'rece, and avoiding the Sharans that seemed to.. disapprove ot women
channeling, Elois counted herself lucky when the mercurial Dragonsworn
gave a hampered shrug, and said "Well, looking on the bright side, it's
a fair sight cooler now."
"Well now that you mention it," Elois murmured,
glancing over La'rece's shoulder at the glittering water of the harbor.
But the other woman was not as cool as she seemed."Bloody
flaming ter'angreal …Did you happen to see what … happened?" she growled.
"No, I didn't actually. I didn't even know
you had been … knocked over into … the water." Elois wondered if any of
the Sharans had notice. Well, of course they had. But would they become
incensed over the perceived chanelling. Perhaps even now robed and armed
Sharans were oiling their way through the crowds to pounce on the unsuspecting
storm troop. She glanced around uneasily at the crowd. "But …"
"What?"
"Nothing really. I guess." The former White couldn't
yet speak calmly about the 'summary execution' of the tattooed woman, and
thus she didn't want to speak about it at all.
"Elois...!"
She jerked her eyes away from the cowled natives
wandering past and pieced together what she had only seen moments after
reaching the docks. It didn't quite make sense..."Right. Yes. Well, I noticed
a greenish glow that seemed to swell from the deck. I was too far
away to see anything clearly, but it seemed as though a large green … bubble
seemed to expand over everyone on the ship's deck and the edge of the dock."
"I saw a greenish glow from down in the water.
Probably one of the ter'angreal too close to another or the after-effect
of the explosion. I'd bet my best saddle that the explosion was caused
by the abrupt closing of the Gateway!"
Gateway?! Who under the blessed Light was wandering
around making Gateways in the middle of, er... whatever city they were
in? Were they planning on Travelling over to Arad Doman for almond fried
chicken? Or back to the Black Tower for an extra pair of socks?! Elois
fumed silently while La'rece excused herself to speak to Myiona.
When the Arafellan returned, she was looking slightly
grim and much more serious. Elois gave her a dry look. "Well, I'd ask what
all that was about but I can see by your expression that you're not likely
to tell me a thing."
In a typically mercurial mood change, La'rece grinned
and said "I can tell you this much … I've been requested to join a meeting
in Mura'shar's cabin … immediately."
A meeting? She nodded and immediately speculated
about the inifinite possibilities this represented. There was no indignation
at being left out; it was Elois' experience that with high-level confidence
came responsibility. And everyone knew that with responsibility came life-threatening
danger. And the White could do just as well without that. She'd had her
fill of that. She wasn't Raised a Green, for Light's sake.
But her peace was shattered when La'rece clutched
her arm in an unbreakable, friendly, grip and stated that she was going
to join them. Before she could protest, La'rece glided towards the gangrail,
and Elois tripped after her.
They met a queasy-looking Mura'shar just de-boarding.
"The first man I saw who ever got seasick while the ship was docked," Elois
commented. It seemed she was being extraordinarily concerned with her coleagues'
well-being today. But, actually, the ter'angreal they had bagged were making
her uneasy. Perhaps the blueness that had been so amusing earlier was more
serious than it looked. Elois would have offered to try her hand at Healing
- she wasn't half bad - but it wasn't heer place, so she quieted while Mura'shar
took a moment to cough into his fist and then addressed them.
~not grim!!
Mura'shar stifled a cough. "Is everything
taken care of, Elois? Did we get everything?"
"We bought everything worth taking, and a little
more, besides"
Elois was giving him a concerned look while she
spoke.
Mura'shar wouldn't have minded a bit of Healing at the moment.
But a flu bug is not worth the energy it would take from the Healer or
himself. He'll be fine in a few days.
"Very well. Make sure they are secured and
then, well, carry on" He nodded to the two Dragonsworn and headed over
to Narnek. The Sharan had followed them from the warehouse and seemed
to be waiting for him.
"We have made our purchases and seem to have everything
we need" Mura'shar said. He hoped these pleasantries will be over
with quickly. The sooner they set out, the sooner they would get
home.
"So it seems. But you may find the price a
bit higher than you anticipated" the Sharan replied.
"I'm afraid the money already changed hands, sir.
The price was agreed upon and met. You can't change it now"
"You do not understand. But you will."
Was the Sharan sneering at him? It was impossible to tell.
"Go now. Your friends are waiting" Narnek
turned and strode away like Mura'shar wasn't even there.
Shaking his head at the strange ways of the Sharans,
Mura'shar went back aboard the raker and looked for a good place to sit
down for a bit. Myiona's meeting was still going on in the cabin.
M'Hael
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
off a space on the floor. The room was too small, by far, but
it was
private and they sorely needed privacy for what she intended.
The Domani
hung a cloth over the small port hole, leaving the room shrouded in
darkness.
letting in first Tareena, with La'rece and Elois on her heels.
Several
small pillows were placed in a small circle on the floor, and Myiona
indicated that they were to sit there. As she joined her friends,
the
former Aes Sedai took a deep breath and began to explain her plan.
the delicate balance of friendship she had with the other women, "you
were
at the Tower longer than I and are probably more familiar with this
type of
thing, so perhaps you should lead. I admit to not doing this
very often,
however I know it can be done. What I propose to do, is to find
out what
the Sharans are doing by some careful snooping with the power.
With the
three of us to work with her, we can extend her focus further and aid
her
strength. What do you think?"
aka Myiona
Suddenly, from somewhere near Mura'shar
came a odd colored flash of light. A sort of nauseating mix of green
and red bathed several of the surrounding members before it flashed out
and two identical people fell out of nowhere to the ground. He didn't
know whether to be pleased that something exciting was happening, or worried
that whatever WAS happening probably wasn't according to plan.
Stefan tugged his arm and brought him
to the water's edge where La'rece could be seen bobbing up and down in
a rather unladylike fashion. One man to his left said, "She does
look like a wet cat." Stefan nodded and said, "Temper like one as
well." I can't argue with that, he thought to himself, then
added outloud, "I'm afraid we'd get scratched." Several more comments
passed back and forth (fortunately, in voices too low for La'rece to pick
up) before Mura'shar passed by and ordered them to bring her up.
With a faint grin, he jumped in the water and helped hoist her back up
to the dock. Perhaps I should stay out of her sight for a couple
days, he mused. Sure enough, La'rece, instead of thanking them for
saving her flaming bottom, said, "I will remember each and every one of
you, and be sure that I do not see your face for the rest of the day."
You were missing THIS?
After gingerly rubbing his temple, Mura'shar
rallied several of the people around him and brought the priceless sacks
aboard the ship. I should find out where he's keeping that stuff.
I'm sure that they didn't take an EXACT count.... Durial also took
note of who followed directly behind Mura'shar. The think tank of
the operation, he thought.
Stepping back onto the boat, several
things hit him at once. The Darkfriend Sea Folk woman. The
closeness of his cabin. Seasickness. The closeness of his cabin.
Being around Elois. And, of course, the closeness of his cabin.
For the hundredth time, he wondered why no one had thought to bring any
ale. Turning to his fellow shoppers with a small spark of hope, he
asked "Did anyone get anything to drink? No, no, not one of those
fruits. I mean, TO DRINK?"
"Did anyone get anything to drink?" Stefan held out one of the prickly
fruits which only ilicited a grimace from Durial," No, not one of those
fruits. I mean to drink."
Stefan looked at the other two who could only show some large round
things that were called...melons?
Stefan frowned," You know Durial, these things are quite good. Though
I'll confess that I could do without the thorns." Pulling one out he held
it up to eye height.
Thomas, one of the four "shoppers" as they were now known as, took
the thorn from Stefan, and another one from the piece of fruit, and stuck
them in between his teeth and lips to make them look like fangs.
"Guess who I am? "mimicking La'rece on the deck by making a high
pitch catlike sound," If I ever see you four again I'll claw your eyes
out!" Followed with his claw like hands going for his eyes. Stefan burst
out laughing, Durial chuckled, Goran the other shopper, and the youngest
of the group let out a belly laugh that nearly made Stefan, Thomas, and
Durial jump him.
Stefan shook his head and sat down on a pile of coiled ropes to "deburr"
another piece of fruit. Thomas sat down on the other pile of ropes and
pulled a knife out to cut into the rounded fruit. Goran caught his breath
and waited for a piece of each.
"No," Durial moaned," I need a drink and I'm going to find something.
Anyone else want, what I hope I can find?"
Stefan dug into his purse at his belt and pulled out two Shienerian
gold coins," Yeah, get us all something. But be careful. La'rece is one
lady I don't want riding my...back when I'm heaving over the side on the
way home."
PS> Thomas and Goran are NPC's. Just thought I give some names to our
Nonplayer soldiers.
a space on the floor. The room was too small, by far, but it
was private
and they sorely needed privacy for what she intended. The Domani
hung a
cloth over the small port hole, leaving the room shrouded in darkness.
in first Tareena, with La'rece and Elois on her heels. Several
small
pillows were placed in a small circle on the floor, and Myiona indicated
that they were to sit there. As she joined her friends, the former
Aes
Sedai took a deep breath and began to explain her plan.
delicate balance of friendship she had with the other women, "you were
at
the Tower longer than I and are probably more familiar with this type
of
thing, so perhaps you should lead. I admit to not doing this
very often,
however I know it can be done. What I propose to do, is to find
out what
the Sharans are doing by some careful snooping with the power.
With the
three of us to work with her, we can extend her focus further and aid
her
strength. What do you think?"
aka Myiona
Guardian of the Black Tower
Bondmate to Darren Sadke
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
He was alone, so Mura'shar was careful
to stay close to the ship. Much of what he saw for sale was fairly
common item in Shara, though still very expensive. After a few hours
and a great deal of haggling with som merchants, he managed to secure a
single bolt of green silk and a fancy sword sheath. He figured Myiona
could have a nice dress madefrom the silk, and he liked the sunburst pattern
on the sheath. It reminded him of Cairhein, of home.
He returned to the ship with his things. His
purse had been considerably lightened in the process. It had been
a long time since he had spent so much at once. He wondered if Myiona's
little meeting was done yet. The headache hadn't really gone away.
He had just been distracted for a time. He wished the Sea Folk would
conclude their own deals so they could get back to the Black Tower.
______________________________________
Since there's been little activity in the last few days, I think we'll
mov on to heading home. I'll give everyone ten days to wrap up what
you need wrapping up. But I'll have us cast off no later than a week
from Thursday.
Jake
M'Hael
to do. After searching in vain for hours, they finally found
what they were
looking for, proof of a plot against the storm team. Myiona knew
there were
plenty in the White Tower who could use the power to spy on others,
but this
was her first time using it for the good of the black tower.
was within the items of power brought aboard the ship, and it seemed
that
there were several unstable items that had been added to the things
they had
purchased. "Bloody Sharans!"
ship's hold. The ter'angreal had been removed from the bags and
stored in
several crates, wrapped in the protective fabric they had brought along
for
that purpose. Sighing, the Dragonsworn went to the first crate
and began
going through the contents.
aka Myiona
something to deal with. he he he he
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
The Initiate - for Talia's cotton-filled mind couldn't recall the young
woman's name even after this fifth session - seemed startled by the Dragonsworn's
outburst. She even seemed hurt. Tough. Talia didn't care
one wit at the moment whether she hurt anyone's feelings or not.
It's a tough world, right? Might as well get people used to being
hurt... (~What a thing to think.. what's wrong with me?~) Talia felt
her forehead.. a tad warm, but that could be from the sun.. right?
How could she be sick? She'd never been sick in her life..
"Try it again.. and this time.. be careful not to fry anything important!"
Talia couldn't believe her attitude.. she was snapping at the Initiate
for no reason. True, the brief breaking of the block had resulted
in Talia's hair getting singed, but she shouldn't have shouted at the Initiate.
Now, no doubt, she had withdrawn back into that block and it would take
a dozen more sessions to break the stupid thing. She moaned and rubbed
her temples even more.. waiting on the Initiate to try again...
~Talia Daimar
<><
the ship's hold. It hardly seemed right that the four of them
were the hope
of their group, but the need was immediate. The ter'angreal had
to be
thrown off the ship as soon as possible. Only the four of them
knew what
they were searching for from the mental image that La'rece had glimpsed
and
shared with them.
water. The Domani cursed as a splinter slid up under her nail,
embedding
itself in the tender skin. "Blood and ashes," she muttered, "this
is going
to take all night."
with a object of power that appeared warm. It was apparently
reacting the
the channeling on board the ship. Could they chance that it was
not
actively involved. As they shared a glance, the women knew it
had to be
sacrificed. Time slowly ticked by until almost every box had
been checked.
they were searching for. "Here," she said calling the others.
"Give them
to me, and I will take them and toss them overboard." She took
the two
ter'angreal and carried them up to the deck, slowly walking towards
the
rail. As she walked, the Domani wove a shield of air and spirit
around
herself and the objects. Neither looked or felt dangerous, but
she did not
doubt the malice of the Sharans.
putting her off balance for a moment. Myiona dropped the smaller
object and
it rolled under her feet. As she picked it up, a wave crashed
into the
ship. Flailing in the air as the deck moved out from under her,
she saw the
darkness of the water below.
water while grabbing at the railing. Her hand slipped and she
found herself
falling from the boat. She had no choice but to try to channel,
the statue
in her hand seemed to glow brightly, its light reflected by the bracelet
she
wore and the platter in her other hand. She heard an odd humming
sound in
her head and felt it building around her.
felt her body sinking under the waves and into the darkness.
The humming
grew louder until a hot white pain lashed through her body and she
lost
consciousness. The water erupted as a spout shot up into the
air, raining
down upon the ship. The objects dropped from her limp fingers
now, and her
head bobbed up once last time. Myiona did not see the look of
anguish upon
her bondmate's face as he realized what had happened. She did
not hear the
orders to pull her from the sea.
aka Myiona
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
A sense of fear and pain brought Mura'shar awake
as he heard La'rece yell "Flaming, bloody goat-snouted …!" and then there
was a splash. Actually, he only half-heard it, his concern for Myiona
overriding everything else, including his aches and pains.
The raker lurched and came about. People were
milling all about the deck. Asha'man, Dragonsworn, and Sea Folk.
La'rece, dripping wet again, was being helped back on board. Myiona
lay on the deck unconscious. La'rece was Delving her, shouting for
Elois. Mura'shar concentrated on the bond. Myiona was alive.
Whatever happened was a near thing, but she lived. But her injuries
were odd. He couldn't pinpoint them, exactly. But it was the
One Power, he was certain of that much.
While they were making his bondmate more comfortable,
Elois arrived. La'rece began barking orders to the Windfinder and
the Sailmistress, demanding their cabin. They balked, of course.
Before Mura'shar could intervene, La'rece had all
but accused the captain of attacking Myiona and threatened to toss her
into the ocean. The display totally stunned him. The two women
were arguing while Myiona may be dying, whatever Elois and the other healers
could do.
"And if you don't want to test your ability to swim
to the nearest shore from wherever we are, you and your Windfinder and
the rest of your crew will do exactly as your told or you will answer to
me."
Mura'shar shook himself. The woman was undermining
his authority as well as alienating the Storm Team from their only way
home. He got up from where Myiona lay and approached the Dragonsworn.
His head was pounding again, worse than ever. And his joints were
on fire. He managed to keep his voice quiet and steady as he told
her "That, I fear, was ill-advised, La'rece."
"I don't trust these people any more than you, but
I'm telling you now as your commander, do not invoke the Tower's power
without consulting me. Do you understand?"
La'rece instructed Elois to take care of Myiona.
Then turned to him and whispered "Be prepared to Travel back to the Tower
in a hurry because the first indication that these people are either darkfriends
or conspirators and I'm sending this ship and them to the bottom of the
sea."
Mura'shar had heard enough. There was no reasoning
with some people when they were in a killing mood. And he was rapidly
reaching that point himself. Let the Guardian deal with it.
He would see to his bondmate. He turned and staggered after Elois and the
Soldiers that were carrying Myiona, wondering why the deck was spinning
so much.
He had just reached the hatch to the cabin when
all his muscles seized up at once. He tried to cry out, but couldn't
get even a gasp out. When he blacked out when his head hit the deck,
it was actually a blessing
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
La'rece turned to her as the door opened, concern
for their friend painted on her face. She radiated a fierceness and
pride that Tareena always admired but this time she had gone to far.
Coldly and calmly Tareena stared at the Dragonsworn, eye to eye.
No words were exchanged, none were needed. Finally, the Arafellan
lowered her eyes for an instant, looked up and simply nodded once in understanding.
The look of pride and arrogance had not changed, nor did Tareena expect
it to and if the truth be known, she didn't want it to change. They
needed strong people in the tower and La'rece was one of the best.
Tareena did not make a practice of setting down any of the Dragonsworn
yet, when they went to far, she did not hesitate. She would not,
however, turn it into something it did not need to be. La'rece would
make her peace with Mura'shar and in private, later, she and Tareena might
calmly have a conversation about the incident but for now, La'rece had
acknowledged that she would not act out of turn again. That was enough.
Now they had to concentrate on Myiona and the sickness. Moving
towards the bed Tareena addressed Eloise. "What is going on?"
Guardian of the Black Tower
Bondmate to Darren Sadke
Raileine took in a deep breath and concentrated
on the rose bud again. It refused to do a thing, budge. But Rai could feel
the warmth, it was so close. She reached, but could not hold it. The warmth
slid through her fingers like water and that put Rai on the verge of tears
for the third time this session.
Had Rai not been so deep in concentration she may
have noticed the problems that Talia was experiencing. And has she been
able to notice she may have come up with some sort of diognastic about
it and maybe even a cure, but Rai was so deep in thought nothing occured
to her about Talia's well being.
Finally, Rai thought she had it and she grasped
for a single moment. When Rai opened her eyes she saw that something was
burning, and this time it was not Talia's hair, but Raileine's own dress.
She screamed and with a single thought put the fire out on her dress with
a weave of air to grab the basin of water next to Talia. The basin clattered
to the ground when Rai realized what she';d done and released the source.
She looked wide eyed at her singed skirts and then
at the basin.
Raileine Topire, Novitiate
Air... The world seemed to lurch, and Talia leaned her weight on her
hand, since she and Rai had been sitting on the deck's surface. She
braced herself for the moment until the dizziness subsided. It was
hot.. or was that simply Talia? She closed her eyes and attempted
to speak to the Novitiate..
"Block seems broken..perhaps.. Maybe you should... try.. juggling some..
balls.." Talia felt as if consciousness was fading in and out.. the
sounds of the ship waning into a fuzzy background noise. Rai seemed
to disappear behind a thick fog of nothingness.. and the last thing she
remembered before she slipped into darkness was reaching for Alan through
their double bond..
~Talia Daimar
<><
What was going on? She was behaving irrationally, over-reacting
to things. She had overstepped her bounds on deck. In her core
being she knew she would do exactly as she had stated if it turned out
that the Sea Folk indeed served the Dark One. But there was no evidence
to suggest that they had anything to do with the ter'angreal. La'rece
was beginning to feel like a wolf at bay, danger scented on the air, ready
to snap at anything that moved. What had the Sharans set in motion
with their little 'surprise.'
The fresh air on deck felt good. Bracing. La'rece ignored
the guarded and caustic looks being delivered by the Sea Folk crew.
The Wavemistress and her Windfinder both looked at the Dragonsworn, their
expressions flat as a stagnant pond. ~Brilliant, La'rece. Just
bloody brilliant. Perhaps you should just pick a fist fight with
one of the Soldiers while you're at it, woman!~ Well the damage was
done, but with time it could be undone. It was hers to deal with
and she would. In time. But there were more pressing matters
now.
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
Elois had been hovering about on deck when La'rece hollered for
her. Myiona's skin was tinged a sickly gray-green that resulted from more
than a quick dousing in salt water. Elois tried to explain this to La'rece,
but the former Green was too concerned with her friend's well-being to
worry about logical process and such.
Resigned, and not a little worried herself, Elois
knelt next to Myiona's prone form and rested her hands on either side of
the woman's face. Her skin was waxy and cold. Elois smoothed dripping strands
of dark hair away from her lovely face and Delved.
She was a White herself, though a talented enough
Healer to have been a moderate Yellow, if she'd had the right mind-set.
Still, Elois wished Ariana or another Yellow was here to shoulder the responsibility.
There was something very strange about Myiona's
health. She was unwell from a dunk in the ocean of course, but something
other than that, as well...
Trepidatiously, Elois weaved flows of Air and Spirit
and Water and knit them into Myiona's being. Her color improved very slightly,
and the chill bled from her water-slicked skin. But she still didn't stir.
The crowd on the deck were mostly watching a heating debate between La'rece
and the Sea Folk Sailmistress and Windfinder, none seemed to notice the
botched Healing attempt.
Well it wasn't botched, actually. Just not complete.
Something strange was wrong. Where was Ariana? Were there any other Yellows
on board?
At La'rece's barked orders, Myiona was carefully
lifted and toted downstairs... belowdecks, rather. A frown creasing the
White's smooth brow, Elois rose to her feet and followed.
She had only begun descending the companionway when
she heard a muffled thud behind her and turned to see Mura'shar fold to
the deck in a dead faint. With a brief cry of dismay , Elois leaned half
onto the deck, grabbed his limp hand and used that skin contact to Delve
the man.
She breathed in sharply, recognizing in Mura'shar
the same residual taint of illness that matched Myiona's mysterious infliction.
There was a connection between the two. And she'd bet her best fur lined
cloak that this was a direct result of Sharan meddling.
Careless of bruised feelings, Elois snapped at two
idling Soldiers to heft Mura'shar and follow her into the Sailmistress's
cabin, where she directed them to lay him across the only other bunk in
the room.
Briefly bending over Myiona to make sure her condition
hadn't altered, Elois straightened and turned, only to find Tareena directly
behind her, radiating purpose and calm.
Taking a cue from the other woman, Elois raised
her chin and smoothed her hair and grabbed hold of Aes Sedai poise. In
answer to Tareena's question she said, "Nothing good. Myiona doesn't wake.
I've Healed her... twice, in fact. It's very mysterious.
"I worry about this bloody plague. How contagious
will it prove to be? There seems to be no recourse but to wait and see
what it's course will prove to be. I can't predict that, and I don't know
much of it I can Heal... And where is Ariana? Did she get left behind?"
Elois muttered. "I will do my best, of course, but I can't handle the entire
Storm Team, as you well know. And what if *I* get sick? Do you know if
any of the Asha'man are above average Healers?" She bit off the end of
what was proving to be a rambling list of worries.
Exhaling loudly, Elois crouched next to Mura'shar,
to experiment with this damned epidemic and see what could be done.
Mura'shar awakened back in his cabin. He heard, as though
from a distance, someone saying I think his fever is breaking" Slowly,
the world came back into focus. His eyes opened, and a worried-looking
Elois peered back at him. Tareena was there as well.
It took him a moment to form the words he wanted
to say "Myiona? Is she...is she all right?"
"She's alive. For the moment. But you
already knew that, of course" said Elois. And she was right.
The bond was still there. But something was wrong with it.
By shifting his head a bit, he could see her lying in the bunk next to
his. But she seemed distant at the same time. She was not totally
there. Something vital was missing.
"What happened?" Speaking was getting easier.
HE tried to sit up, but pain lanced through his body as he tried.
He could only prop himself up a bit. Tareena gestured, and a couple
of Soldiers he hadn't noticed helped him into a sitting position.
"One of the ter'angreal seems to have started some
kind of plague on the ship" Tareena answered him. "Something that
resists Healing. You and Myiona appear to be the first victims of
it. Myiona was trying to get rid of the ter'angreal when she fell
overboard. Its at the bottom of the sea by now."
Mura'shar looked again at Myiona, lying so still
in the next cot. He wondered why Elois was able to Heal him, if only
in part, and not her. He wished he knew more about Healing.
Might as well wish to know what the Next Age will
bring, but wishing won't make things happen.
Aloud, he said "At least the threat is gone for
now. But the Sea Folk need to be told what is happening as well.
They have been exposed to the ter'angreal too and may be in danger" He
made as though to get up and was promptly reminded why he was there to
begin with. Light, it felt like his bones were dissolving!
He looked to the Soldiers next, and spoke to the
dark, one-eyed Soldier. You. Jaren. Find the Sailmistress
and her Windfinder and bring them here. I'm afraid I have some very
bad news for them" THen he returned his gaze to the two Dragonsworn.
"Now then, tell me what you, Myiona, and La'rece were doing earlier, what
made Myiona go looking through the ter'angreal in the first place?"
M'Hael
Tareena listened silently as Elois quickly explained to Mura'shar
what the foursome had found out about the sharans and the sickness Ter'angreal.
Tareena quietly reminded Mura'shar of the spy reports they had received
from the M'hael outlining that Shara was in turmoil over the Dragon Reborn.
Their had been fighting in Shara for the first time in centuries as a result.
Maybe the faction against the Dragon had set up the Storm Team to weaken
the Black Tower. Maybe, maybe maybe...maybe wouldn't stop the sickness
from spreading. Leaving Mura'shar with Elois, Tareena moved upstairs
to see what kind of shape everyone else was in.
Rengar could hardly believe his ears. He and the other
members of the Storm Team had gathered around Mura'shar, knowing that there
had been another mission in the works, but only now discovering what that
mission constituted. Rengar, for one, was not very pleased with what
Mura'shar had told them so far.
Why can't we go on a mission to someplace
a little closer? Now I have to go on another bloody ship...
Rengar suddenly remembered the time he had spent on that Sea Folk ship
a few months ago, when they had taken a similar trip. He had not
had a good experience, both with the ship and it's Sea Folk crew, and his
gut told him that he was not going to enjoy this new experience any more.
And on top of that, Rengar wasn't sure
that the Tower was ready to go on such a long expedition. With everything
that had been going on within the Black Tower itself over the last couple
of months the trust between the members of the Tower was not at it's strongest.
If things got rough during this mission, would they be able to hold it
together? A year or so ago Rengar would have been completely confident
that they would, but his confidence in the integrity of the Tower was not
as strong as it had been then. Still, the M'Hael must know what he
was doing; he had been around longer than he or anyone else he knew in
the Tower.
After the speech was over Rengar returned
to his room and began gathering his things together. From what Mura'shar
had told them this wasn't supposed to be a particularly long trip, but
if there was one thing that Rengar had learned during his time as an Asha'man
it was to expect the worst. The promise of no Shadowspawn had lightened
Rengar's spirits a bit, but who knew if there were worse things where they
were going?
Maybe things won't be so bad, Rengar
thought to himself as he packed the last of his things, and sat down on
his bed. Who knows? Maybe Odessa will be here when I get back...
Now that was wishful thinking.
Rengar was still having a hard time with the fact that she had left him
so suddenly. All of those dreams he had had...did they mean nothing?
It seemed like that now, with both the Taint gone as well as Odessa.
Those had been the two main components of that dream, the one that he had
been so sure represented his fate. To die slowly from the madness
of the Taint that had only recently been lifted from saidin. But
now it seemed like it was only his fears of what would happen to him later
in life. It was just that it had been a dream that he had dreamed
so many times...a dream that recurred like that had to mean something,
didn't it? Every other dream he had ever had during his life had
gone and left once, except that one.
I have to concentrate on the mission
at hand, Rengar told himself. Odessa was gone, and there was nothing
that he could do now that would bring her back. He didn't know where
she was, and he would be abandoning his fellow members in the Tower if
he went off to look for her now. Who knew what the future may hold?
Perhaps he could find himself another bondmate. That might anger
Odessa enough to come back...
Rengar tried to push all of these thoughts
to the back of his head as he made his way out of his room and towards
yet another grand adventure with the Black Tower. It did seem a little
bit of a stretch to call what Mura'shar had described to them grand, but
these mission always had a way of taking longer than originally intended.
And even when they were short, they were never boring.
I wish these missions were nothing but
a bore, Rengar thought to himself, but he knew that, more than anything
else that he wished for now, was the last thing that would ever come to
pass. Such was the life of an Asha'man.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rengar watched as Mura'shar began conversing
with what appeared to be a Sharan who had been awaiting their coming.
After a few moments Mura'shar came back to the rest of the Asha'man and
Dragonsworn who had been waiting for him to finish. He looked at
them with an expression that conveyed both relief and apprehension, at
least to Rengar.
"I am going ashore with Narnek to verify
that there are in fact ter'angreal to be bought here. I'll need a
few volunteers to go with me to speed the process. Everyone else
may stay on the ship or visit the markets. But be careful.
This is an unfamiliar land and the merchants here have a reputation."
Many of the members of the Tower seemed
to welcome this news, while a few, like Rengar, did not have a reaction
either good or bad. What could I possibly do here on this island?
Go to a tavern? I wonder if they have brothels in Shara... Rengar
thought to himself. That last thought gave him a slight bang of guilt,
but Rengar was quick to discard the feeling. I shouldn't feel guilty
about having a little fun while I'm here...Odessa is still bonded to me,
but she has made it clear that she doesn't want anything to do with me.
The point is that she isn't here, so there isn't any reason why I can't
go find a brothel...
The crowds that were gathered around
the docks were the same size as the ones Rengar had encountered in other
port cities back to the West, if not greater. Rengar had never liked
crowds of this size that much; smaller ones he could handle, but with all
of these people crowded so close together it wouldn't be very hard for
someone to bump into him and relieve him of the gold he had brought with
him on this journey. Rengar considered using the Power to heighten
his senses, so that he might be able to protect both himself and his gold
pouch better, but he thought against it. Doing that probably wouldn't
have been a problem in the West, but he didn't know much of anything about
the land that he know found himself in. It was better to be safe
than sorry, and Rengar had a feeling that feeling sorry here would mean
being dead.
Fortunately Rengar was able to make
his way through the streets with all of his gold intact, and he was also
able to find an establishment that would suit his current needs.
Mura'shar and the others won't be done for a few hours at least, so I should
be able to enjoy myself for a good amount of time here, Rengar thought
to himself as he looked around the place that he had just entered.
It was called the Den of Desire, and from what he could see from looking
around the place left much to be desired. Apparently there were such
things as low end establishments in Shara, which could be seen as a good
thing to some. The walls were made of crumbling stone, and covered
with substances that, upon realizing what some of them were, made Rengar
feel the same way he did on the ship. There were wooden stools, a
bar, and a few tables. At every one of these objects there was a
man, and none of them were alone. Rengar was amazed at the amount
of weight some of the stools seemed to be able to support, especially after
seeing a portly man with no less than three woman perched on his lap and
legs. A strange smelling smoke filled the air, if one could call
it that here, and Rengar knew immediately that this was not his kind of
establishment. Rengar had known many men in his past who had always preferred
an easy catch, no matter the quality, but even when it had been his first
time Rengar had found the women in places like these...
"How may I service you, sir?" a woman
whom he had not particularly noticed asked him. Even in this place
the women were still fully clothed, though instead of thick robes and hoods
the woman in front of him was wearing thinner robes and a veil covering
her face. She has a nice enough figure, but perhaps there is a reason
for the veil other than Sharan custom, Rengar thought to himself.
He knew that there had to be at least one woman in this land that was nice
to look upon; the stories he had heard about the reason for the robes and
hoods had to have been jokes. Unless...
"Thank you for the offer...you speak
the same language as I do?" Rengar asked, just then realizing that the
woman was speaking his language. Every other time he had heard Sharans
conversing amongst themselves it had been in an unfamiliar dialect, and
since he hadn't exactly been chatting up a storm on board the ship hearing
it now must have slipped by him...or not.
"I have had many customers that come
from the same land that you do. I can tell that you seek what I can
give you, but before you can have what you want you will have to pay,"
the woman said, and Rengar thought he saw an evil smile curl her lips from
beneath her veil. Perhaps she liked this part better than the part
that would come later, once she had gotten her money.
"That's a surprise," Rengar muttered
under his breath, taking a look around him before pulling his gold pouch
out from where he had hidden it. None of the other men in the Den
seemed to have taken especial notice of him, but they would if they saw
the size of the pouch that he had brought with him. After everything
he had done to get the two hundred gold pieces that now occupied his pouch,
he was sure that he would later regret what he was now spending a few of
those pieces on. But places like these weren't built for men who
looked to far ahead into the future. Besides, after being cooped
up in that ship for so long... "How much?"
"Three hundred of your gold pieces for one session should
suffice," the woman said, the smile returning to her face as she saw the
reaction Rengar had to her asking price. "Is that too much for you?
There is another way, but no one has ever been able to..."
"Three hundred! I've paid less for a lot better,
that's all I have to say-" Rengar stopped, realizing that he had just spoken
those words out loud. The look on the woman's face had darkened considerably
after his words, so he spoke quickly. "You said there was another
way?"
"Yes, though I am sure that a man like you will never
be able to successfully complete it. Do you see that sword over there?"
The woman pointed to a small dagger in a porcelain case
mounted on the wall behind the bar, with a jeweled hilt and a nicely made
scabbard covering the actual blade. Rengar made his way towards the
case, stopping to get a closer look at the dagger it held. The woman
came up behind him, as well as a few of the other people who had seemed
to be ignoring Rengar only minutes ago. They all looked at him with
gazes of both wonder and of disdain.
"Why are they all looking at me like that?" Rengar asked
the woman, as he was beginning to grow uncomfortable with the amount of
people that were now gathered around him and the bar. Everyone whom
had been here when Rengar first arrived, along with a few who had come
in after him, were now acting like spectators at a fight waiting for the
main event to get underway.
"They want to see if you can be the first man to successfully
wield the Big Sword. Many before you have tried, but none of them
have succeeded," the woman told him, her voice full of reverence, as if
the dagger was some sort of holy object.
"What do you mean, wield it? Do
I have to fight somebody with it?" Rengar asked. If that were the
case, then perhaps he should forget about this place altogether, and find
out where the rest of the Black Tower members were. The last thing
he needed to get himself into here was a barfight, especially with a weapon
like that dagger. Which brought another question to his attention
that he could not resist asking. "Why is it called the Big Sword?
It's only a dagger."
"Only a dagger? This dagger happened
to belong to Baltar the Mighty, a man who traveled to this city many times
during his days and always came to the Den to...rest himself after the
long journey from the lands from which he came. He always had this
dagger with him when he came, and he gave the women here more pleasure
than they could have ever dreamed of. His...skill was so great that
many women were unable to handle what he gave them. He stopped coming
here fifteen years ago, and there are many stories as to why he never returned
when he set sail from here so long ago. Some say that he found another
place to go to for his pleasure, while others believe that he was driven
insane with the loss of his dagger, which he mistakenly left in the room
with the last woman of the Den that he made love to. We have kept
it in this case ever since, hoping that one day a man would come that would
be able to wield it the way that Baltar once did, so that we would once
again be the receptors of the pleasure that he brought the women of the
Den."
Rengar couldn't believe what he had
just heard. This place was becoming more of a cult headquarters and
less of a brothel with each passing moment. His first instinct was
to disbelieve everything that the woman had just told him, but as he looked
at the case again he couldn't bring himself to believe entirely that the
tale had been concocted. Well, that most of the tale had been made
up, anyhow. Still, he believed now that he had a pretty good idea
of what the woman had meant when she had told him that he must be able
to wield the Big Sword, and what she said next confirmed his fears.
"You must use the sword to give a woman
pleasure. If you can do that, then you can have any woman here that
you want, for as long as you live. Not a bad deal for someone who
couldn't even afford my services."
"But...what do I do with the sword to do what you want
me to do? Rengar asked, his words coming out in a sloppy succession from
his mouth. He had heard of some bizarre ways that people made love
to one another, but the use of a dagger had never been a part of those
descriptions. Maybe Sharan women were different.
"It is said that all that Baltar the Mighty needed was
to wear the sword, and any women who was around him would immediately feel
the effects of his charms," the woman said, and the other people who had
gathered around the bar watched intently as Rengar removed the glass cover
and pulled the Big Sword out from it's scabbard. Immediately he felt
a strange sensation, and after staring at the dagger for a few moments
he realized the object he was holding in his hands was a ter'angreal!
That explains most of what the woman told me, Rengar thought
to himself as the first woman was brought to him. This ter'angreal
must be capable of inducing physical pleasure in whomever the weaves were
directed at. Rengar tried a small weave into the dagger, and immediately
a sensation came upon him that confirmed his suspicion. He stopped
before the other thirty people in the room began to notice what was happening
to him, though it was harder to stop than he would have thought.
He wondered whether or not he should take the dagger with him back to the
others; it was a ter'angreal, after all, and the Tower was always looking
for some. Even if the purpose of this ter'angreal didn't exactly
fit with the Dragon's vision of the Tower being a weapon in the Last Battle.
Still, perhaps another purpose could be found for it...
Rengar suddenly noticed that the spectators
were beginning to stare impatiently at him as he examined the dagger, and
only then did he remember why he had come into possession of it in the
first place. The girl in front of him couldn't have been any older
the twenty, and she had a look of anxiety on her face. She wasn't
looking at Rengar, but rather the dagger than he now held in his right
hand. She probably thought that the dagger would probably be used
painfully before it would give her any kind of pleasure. Eager to
please the crowd and even more eager to get out of this place, Rengar channeled
into the dagger, and the girl's eyes began to grow wide, before other things
began to happen that made the people gathered around her take notice.
By the time it was over men were either congratulating Rengar or giving
him extraordinarily high numbers of gold pieces in order to get him to
sell it to them and teach them it's secret. All of them women in
the room also seemed to want Rengar's full attention, many of them begging
him to "use" the dagger on them. It was all very overwhelming to
Rengar, but at least now it seemed that he was the new possessor of the
Big Sword. As the pandemonium continued Rengar began to wonder whether
Baltar the Mighty had been driven mad by the Taint that had once been on
saidin or from the atmosphere of this place whenever he entered it with
his dagger by his side.
"Well, you have proved yourself worthy
of the Big Sword. I apologize for some of the things that I said
to you before. Surely now you will honor me with your presence in
one of the rooms upstairs. It will be the best one we have, of course.
The same one that Baltar used when he came here," the woman said, taking
off her veil and moving her head towards Rengar's hear. "You can
use the Sword as often as you like upstairs. My name is Alara."
"I..." Rengar began before his voice
trailed off. He had been set in his conviction to leave the Den a
few moments ago, but after seeing Alara's face for the first time his resolve
had been shaken. She was very sweet on the eyes, and surely they
could find someone else to help take the ter'angreal back to the Tower...
"I am sorry, Alara, but I have just remembered that I have some very important
business to attend to. But I will return here again, and when I do
I...I promise that all of you will have a taste of the Big Sword."
That last comment sent all of the "employees"
of the Den of Desire to the ground, while the men continue to shout out
prices and threats to take the dagger away from Rengar in combat.
Rengar practically Traveled out of the Den, going so fast that before he
knew it he was in the middle of a Sharan street, with no idea of where
he was or where he was going.
"This is just great. This was
certainly worth all of that trouble," Rengar muttered under his breath,
stuffing the dagger into a holder on the inside of his jacket. He
looked around him and tried to remember where Mura'shar had said the ter'angreal
were being held. After a long period of wandering through the streets
with the sun cooking his skin he finally found the place, only to find
a handful of Asha'man and Dragonsworn there, along with a number of Sharans
in their cloaks.
"Where did you run off to?" Elois asked
him as he burst into the storehouse, causing the Sharans and a few of the
Tower members to jump in alarm. "Most of the others have already
brought back ter'angreal and a few other trinkets to the ship. I'm
glad to see that you decided you wanted to help."
"I ran into a...delay," was all that
Rengar could muster in the wake of Elois's harsher than expected greeting.
Perhaps it's the dealings with these Sharans that has her on edge, Rengar
thought to himself. Or was it something else?
He decided to wait with the other members
of the until the final transaction was made, which wasn't too long after
he first arrived. Apparently if he had arrived a few more minutes
later he would have found the storehouse empty. Or, more likely,
the Sharans would have asked him what he was doing sneaking around.
He didn't want to think about what the Sharans did to foreigners who broke
their laws.
Elois handed the money pouch over to
the Sharans and the members of the Black Tower began to gather the remaining
bags of items. Rengar choose a rather heavy back and swung it over
his shoulder, and immediately regretted his choice. If he ever experienced
back pains later in life he would know exactly where they had come from,
he thought to himself as he began to walk with the bag's weight making
his every step a test of endurance.
As the group continued down a Sharan
street with the Sharan guards keeping their distance Rengar was beginning
to get used to the weight of the bag, though he would still be happy when
he was able to deposit the bag into the cargo hold of the Sea Folk ship.
Suddenly, however, his pace was broken
as the Soldier in front of him made an immediately halt, causing Rengar
to nearly fall on his face from the momentum of his forward movement as
he too was forced to come to a stop. He was about to give the Soldier
a few harsh words when he spied what had caused the entire group, it appeared,
to stop dead in their tracks in the middle of a busy Sharan street.
A man and a woman were being brought through the streets by the guards,
something that the Tower's Sharan escort seemed none to pleased with.
The commotion in the street increased at this unexpected event, and after
a few words by one of the Sharan guards the woman, who had some strange
markings upon her face, was impaled on a Sharan sword. Rengar was
frozen in place by the suddenness by which it had happened, and continued
to stare as the other prisoner was dealt the same fate as the woman.
He had seen public executions before, but they had always been scheduled
events, and they had never taken place in the middle of a crowded street.
Even if the people who had been killed happened to be criminals the thought
of them being killed in these circumstances sickened Rengar.
After this unforeseen event the Sharans
told them to move back to their ship immediately, and by the way that they
were looking at them Rengar wished that he could have Traveled back to
the ship just then, so he could be as far away from this spot as possible.
After a few moments Elois ordered them to move, and within a few minutes
they made it back to the ship.
Rengar gladly deposited his bag below
deck and made his way back to the top. As he looked around he could
see Mura'shar massaging his temples, and La'rece dragging Elois to one
of the guest quarters. Other than a few Asha'man still bringing their
bags below decks it looked as though everyone was ready to leave this place.
And not a moment to soon, Rengar thought
to himself, feeling the dagger beneath his jacket and wondering whether
he should tell Mura'shar about it. But another look in that man's
direction told Rengar that he would be better served if he waited.
Well, this mission wasn't all that bad after all. I have every woman
in the Den of Desire begging for me, men offering me enough money to live
the rest of my live in luxury, and we haven't gotten ourselves into one
unnecessary battle with the locals. What else could go wrong?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rengar was pacing the deck of the Sea
Folk raker as it sailed the open see, after having left the port of the
Sharan city to make it's way back home. Rengar had thought that by
trying to concentrate on something other than the movements of the deck
beneath him that he would be able to circumvent the sea sickness the seemed
to hold him in it's grip every time he boarded a Sea Folk raker.
Or any ship for that matter.
Most of the other members of the Black
Tower were below decks now, but the sickness seemed to affect him even
more severely down there than it did up here, so Rengar had opted to try
and clear his head with some fresh sea air. But the ship continued
to rock back and forth, with more intensity than it had before, which only
served to turn Rengar's face a deeper shade of green. A few times
the water from the ocean would wash onto the deck of the ship as it cleared
a steep wave, and Rengar began having to brace himself against one of the
masts. He didn't know what would be worse though: being sick here
on the ship or soaking wet if he happened to slip on the deck. He
wished that neither was a possibility.
Suddenly he saw a figure heading towards
the edge of the ship with a few parcels in their arms, and though he could
not figure out exactly who it was he could tell that it was a woman.
She seemed to be trying to get her cargo overboard into the water, but
at that moment the boat suddenly lurched as it cleared a wave, catching
the woman off guard. Rengar could hear her scream as she went overboard,
leaving the items she had been trying to get overboard still on the deck.
Rengar soon saw another figure go overboard as well; another woman, and
she seemed to have come from the same direction as the first one had.
Rengar took a quick look around to see if there was anyone else on deck,
but he seemed to be it. The second woman might be able to save the
first one by herself, but Rengar knew enough about the ocean to know that,
in situations like these two was always better than one. With that
in mind he ran over to the same spot where the first woman had been attempting
to deposit her goods into the ocean and jumped clumsily into the water.
He could see two figures a couple of yards from him and when he reached
them he could faintly see who they were. The first woman, it appeared,
had been Myiona Sedai, while her rescuer was La'rece Sedai. Well,
they weren't really Aes Sedai anymore; he knew that Myiona was bonded to
Mura'shar and that La'rece had been bonded to Ivan. But he had never
gotten to know either one of them well enough to know their last names,
and he could only guess as to why Myiona had been trying to get rid of
those packages before she had fallen overboard. Now that he thought
about it, as he and La'rece yelled for help from the ship, those packages
had looked a lot like the ter'angreal that had acquired in Shara.
He also knew that Myiona had recently been involved in some trouble with
the Guardian and others while he and the others had been in Shienar.
I wonder why she was trying to get rid
of that ter'angreal? Rengar thought to himself as La'rece and he were handed
a rope from some of the others on board the ship. I hope all of those
things I heard about her from those in the Tower aren't true. I don't
know what went on while the Storm Team was away, but Mura'shar seems to
trust her completely. And she's been with the Tower almost as long
as I have.
After they had all gotten back on board
the ship a rather nasty incident between La'rece and the higher members
of the Sea Folk crew ensued, one that didn't seem to please Mura'shar very
much, from the look on his face. Rengar knew a bad situation when
he saw one, and left to go below deck to try and find some dry clothes.
He couldn't help with Myiona, and he wanted some time to think about what
he had seen her doing before she had gone overboard. Perhaps he was
only playing the Dark One's advocate, but perhaps he should discuss what
he suspected with someone. For some reason the first person to come
into his mind was Elois, though he didn't know her nearly as well as some
of the other acquaintances he had made during his time in the Tower.
But none of those people were on board as far as he knew, so he didn't
seem to have much of a choice. Besides, regardless of the way she
had treated him in the storehouse he thought that they had hit it off pretty
well after the Shienar mission. With that decided all he had to do
was find her. And he had a pretty good idea of where she might be.
Kyle
With a speaking look for Tareena, to mislead or
explain to the man as she willed, Elois turned and left the cabin to ascertain
the health of the other Storm Team members.
Halfway down the companionway, ascending the narrow
short flight of steps that led topside, the White heard someone call her
name. She turned to see Rengar striding determinedly towards her. The half
light from the sky that shone through the hatch revealed a gray, waxy pallor
to his skin.
"Are you ill?" Frowning in concern, Elois laid her
palms on either side of his face and Delved without waiting for an answer.
The first thing that she did was not
initiate a conversation, however. Instead, Elois put her hands on
his cheeks and closed her eyes, apparently worried about his current appearance.
Maybe she thought that he had come down with the same sickness that seemed
to be affecting Mura'shar and some of the others on board. Fortunately
for Rengar, however, the first thing that she told him was:
"You don't have this bloody...the same
thing that Mura'shar seems to have come down with. You're just seasick!"
"Yes, I'm afraid that's true.
I don't do very well on these ships, you see," Rengar said, trying to get
to the point of his conversation as quickly as possible. Light knows
when I'll have a chance to talk to her about this again, with the way she
seems to be carrying on. "I wanted to...discuss something important
with you. About a theory that I have about what happened earlier,
with Myiona."
"Do you know how she fell off the ship?
Was she acting strangely before it happened?" Elois asked him, and from
the expression on her face the questioned seemed to be very important to
her. "You were one the one who helped La'rece bring her back aboard
the ship, weren't you?"
"Um, yes, I was. As to how she
fell into the ocean, all I can say is that she must have been tossed over
by the movement the ship made after clearing a particularly violent wave,"
Rengar said, telling her exactly what he had seen when he had been trying
to clear his head out on the deck. "And that brings me to my question,
Elois. You see, right before she fell overboard I thought I saw Myiona
trying to dump something into the water. At first I thought it was
the ter'angreal, but when I went to check at the spot where she had fallen
there wasn't anything there. I assumed that someone must have brought
it back to where it was before, if it was the ter'angreal."
"What is your point, Asha'man Rengar?"
Elois said, and Rengar paused for a moment before he replied. Never
had he seen this woman so stiff and rigid before...perhaps he was talking
to much, but he knew that he was onto something now. Women, in his
experience, never acted like this unless they were trying to hide something.
"My point is this: I want to know why
Myiona was trying to dump the cargo that we had gone all of this way to
get. Was she trying to sabotage our mission? I know that there
was some questions raised about here while some of us were in the Blight,
and I have never considered her to be the most trustworthy person in the
Black Tower to begin with. The reason I'm asking you is because you're
Myiona's closest friend with whom I can approach freely, for I trust that
you are not part of Myiona's machinations," Rengar said, pausing to study
Elois's reaction to what he had said so far. She seemed to regard
him just as coldly as she did before. I'm getting close, Rengar thought
to himself, and he decided to continue his speech with a few more words.
"I have been a member of the Black Tower for a long time, and though a
lot of things have come up between the first time I put on this jacket
to now, I have always put the interests of the Tower above anything else.
If Myiona is trying to sabotage our mission, then the T'sorvan'm'hael needs
to know. But that all depends on what you can tell me, Elois.
Please, if you know anything about the ter'angreal; why Myiona was trying
to dump it overboard, where it is now, anything, please tell me.
If my accusations are false, then tell me. I will believe you."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just thought I would make things a little
interesting at the beginning of this new story arc concerning the ter'angreal
born sickness. The ball is entirely in your court, Hannah.
You can either tell Rengar to buzz off or tell him what you and the girls
have been doing. I would prefer the latter, since it would give me
a chance to write something. No pressure, though ;P
Kyle
*****
Stepping back a bit to the day of departure:
Arran saw him do this, and dropped low to the ground, his glaive out,
ready for any threat. Normally, Darren only channelled like this to defend
against an attack in the One Power. After a moment, it became clear that
none was coming.
"What is it, Darren?"
Darren shrugged.
Arran waved his hands in confusion. "You mean you just began channelling
without anything being wrong?"
Darren shrugged again. "Strange feeling, sort of like... someone moving
something around inside me... but it's passing. I couldn't figure out what
to do. So very strange."
Then Arran was worried. Darren had never been affected by a weave he
didn't want to be. "Can you remember when it started?"
Darren nodded. "Around when the gate collapsed, there were a lot of
loose weaves flying. It got stronger just now."
Arran relaxed. "Well, it'll probably go away then. Can you weave to
do anything, now that you've siezed the source?"
Darren shook his head, but smiled at the prospect. "Let's find somewhere
private to see, though."
After a few days of futile attempts in the hold:
She seemed to be tiring, and repeatedly paused to stretch and rest.
Darren noticed that the weather had begun acting up, and wondered whether
she was pushing herself a little too hard. He approached, and did not know
how to open the subject. His mere presence seemed to disturb her somewhat,
and her work became even more erratic.
Darren looked back to the sailmistress, and saw that she was just as
aware as he that the windmistress was losing control. The sailmistress
seemed not to notice him, though, and called back that the windmistress
should take a break. The mindmistress retorted that the waves were getting
quite high enough, and she would try to calm them.
The sailmistress did not immediately deal with this insubordination,
but fought the helm to get the ship pointing at a good angle against the
new direction of the increasingly high waves.
Darren walked up the lee side of the ship to get a better look at the
unnatural-acting water. Just then, several waves came together and broke
over the deck. From windward came Myiona's cry as the wave hit her. Darren
immediately siezed saidin, feeling the creeping feeling come over him again,
as the torrent hit him. Blindly grabbing into the wave, his hand grasped
a hard object and held it, as his other hand grabbed a free cord and kept
him onboard. The object was alive with power, and he immediately identified
it as the source of his tingling sensation. A fascination overwhelmed him,
knocking concerns for Myiona's safety out of his mind. He blindly returned
to his spot in the hold, picking at the ter'angreal with jabs of spirit,
trying to figure out how it worked and how to get it to allow him to channel
without having the tingling sensation.
****
:)
Rai moved out of the way and let La'rece move towards
Talia. "What happened?" She demanded and Rai looked like rabbit ready to
bolt.
"W-we were working on my b-block," She stammered.
"I lit my dress on fire and used a weave of air to grab a basin to put
it out. The block had broken, but after Talia had informed me of that she
. . . fell to the ground." Raileine brought her index finger to her mouth
and started chewing on the nail. It was a nasty habbit that she could not
rid herself of. "I f-felt her pulse. She is alive, but I don't know what
is wrong!"
Raileine Topire, Novitiate
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
Or maybe she was just suffering from nervous exhaustion.
Healing required nearly as much strength from the Healer, as the one being
Healed.
Elois leaned her hand against the rough wood wall
to steady herself, and bit her lip to stifle inapporpriate laughter.
After a moment, she met the Asha'man's eyes. "Well,
you've written yourself quite a little play, Rengar. Walk with me, and
I'll explain a bit," she invited charitably.
In silence, the White strode down the companionway
and ducked into her shared cabin, relieved that none of her other bunkmates
were about. Rengar ducked through the doorway, frowning pensively.
"I will only tell you this once, Rengar, and only
because we certainly don't need off-the-wall tales about sabotage and betrayal
floatin around this ship, now of all times. You're aware that there is
a debilitating illness aboard with us? Good. This is the work of the Sharans.
We - Tareena, La'rece, Myiona and myself - were attempting to uncover the
details of their plot, but... Well, in any case Myiona was trying to rid
the ship of the ter'angreal that was the source of the plague when she
was swept overboard. And that is the short version and all you need know.
We'd all appreciate it if you, since you don't seem to be infected yet,
would assist in any way possible."
She glowered at him, righteously indignant. Then
the ship came to, and Elois lost her balance, windmilled her arms, and
fell with a solid, undignified, thump upon the hard slats of the bunk.
(Elois - ever graceful White)
Most of the Storm Team (against all
wishes of their superiors) had chosen to stay above deck. So much
for containing it, he thought to himself. Staying in their cabins
might have helped slow the progress of the plague a little, but it would
most likely find everyone by the time they were only halfway home.
Their lack of knowledge is killing them. Poor fools.
He didn't know why he felt compassion
for these people. Yes, they had been through an adventure in a foreign,
and obviously hostile, land. Together they had drank strange fruits
(fruits Durial would just as soon forget) and had fished a rather snippy
Dragonsworn out of the harbor. More fun than Durial had seen in years--since
his escape from Cairhien at least. That track just led to blacker
thoughts, so he brought his mind back to the problem at hand.
The problem at hand seemed easy to explain,
but less than easy to solve. He had watched the plague follow the
members of the Team, and had formed at least an idea in his head of how
it was passed. It seemed like a leach, a mini-Taint, that followed
every flow that went in or out of the channeler's body. He saw Elois
Delve into Myiona, and later saw her Delve Rengar. There's two more
that'll have it soon, if I don't miss my guess. Not that he himself
wasn't immune.
He could almost count the hours he had
left.
The solution seemed to be just beyond
his reach, his mental capabilities. Having this bloody plague probably
isn't helping. And it wasn't so much HOW to do it, but SHOULD he
do it.
He could tell how many former Aes Sedai
were aboard this ship. The calm air, the self-satisfied way they
had of smiling at everyone. He knew. And that's why he hesitated
to work out the solution. It had been Aes Sedai those many years
ago that had come tearing through the city, looking for the source of the
miraculous healings that had started the rumors of a Dragon Reborn.
All he had wanted was to live a quiet, but helpful life with his...."talent",
but that had been stolen the day the Reds came into town.
It was an unknown Talent that saved
him that day. A flash of light, then a hole into....well, he knew
it was somewhere else. And there didn't appear to be any Aes Sedai
there. Jumping through the hole in the air, he heard the door of
his small home slam open. Frantically he had tried to undo the gateway,
but he felt the tension, knew that he couldn't hold much longer.
He waited only until the two Reds appeared on the other side, then pulled
a thread from the very center of the weave.
He later heard rumor from peddlers that
passed his way in the Mountains of Mist that there had been a terrible
explosion in Cairhien. The commonfolk assumed that the Aes Sedai
had just had a little trouble and commited suicide, taking Durial down
with them. His body had never been found, although people could only
guess whose remains were whose.
Since then, he had nursed the scars
of the explosion; scars fed by hatred for the ones who thought to kill
him "for the good of all."
Why should he save these people?
Years to think about the incident did
little to cool his anger. He couldn't quite get the idea out of his
head, though, that they really were on the same team. Would a personal
vendetta make the Light any stronger? But what were a few lives?
Back and forth, back and forth, the
motion of the ship (and of the argument) lulled Durial into an uneasy midmorning
nap.
-----------------------------------------------
-------------------------------
Heh, sorry bout the length folks, but
I thought I should explain my character's "aloofness" a little more closely.
Jake, are we free to "delve into" (haha) the actual substance of the plague??
I suppose I should have asked that BEFORE I wrote this, but I could always
retract if necessary. Kyle, Hannah, are you two feeling up to being
sick? My theory doesn't HAVE to be right. Not that anyone know
I can channel yet.......
Thud. One Aes-Sedai-now-Dragonsworn hit the floor in a flurry
of skirts and hair as the sudden motion of the ship, combined with her
unbalanced reach, tipped her right out of the hammock. She almost
did swear.
Instead, she clenched her teeth and got to her feet. "Light,
does the Windfinder have any idea what she's doing up there?" Maybe
she'd better go up to the deck before she was tossed into the walls.
Or went crazy in this small wooden box they called a room. Slowly,
limping in time with the ship's tossing, she made her way to the upper
deck. Maybe there would be something to do up there- sort ter'angreal
or watch the Sea Folk up in the rigging or even just watch the waves for
dolphins or whales. There had to be something to take her mind from
the boredom of her cabin.
Erin
The Sailmistress, seeing the deckhand hop and two sword blades coming
through made her use a curse that hadn't been used in years.
Upon seeing her enter, the young man started toward her, swords moving.
Moving deftly, La'rece ducked under his arm while driving her fist into
his kidney followed by a quick thrust to the back of his head sending him
to the floor in a heap. "Trolloc kissing mother of a goat!
What in the flaming name of the light…?!" The Dragonsworn's voice
trailed off as she took in the palid color of Stefan's complexion.
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
Guardian of the Black Tower
Bondmate to Darren Sadke
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
singly choppy sea in concern. Arran inferred that they were preparing
for a coming storm. The idea crossed his head that a storm usually involved
clouds, which were conspicuously absent. The idea finished crossing his
head and left no forwarding address.
Continuing his inspection, he saw that none of the sailors bore whip
marks: unlikely that this ship was shadow-controlled. Hmm. Shadow. Arran
looked around for members of his own team. Conflicting images entered his
mind, but he couldn't sort them out. Frustrated, he returned to observation.
A pair of vaguely familiar women (from different sets of those images!)
were talking seriously a few feet away. Thinking they might clear up his
confusion, Arran gingerly walked up to them.
One spoke to the other, "... until this is sorted out. And I
don't think the Sea Folk would be wise to return to their own islands until
we do either. Do you agree?"
Since she was facing away, Arran couldn't hear the other woman's response
over the surf and erratic wind.
Something about that woman nagged him, and he tapped on her shoulder.
As she turned, he began to ask, "Do I kn... Tareena!"
Arran struggled to place her in his memory. He could connect face and
name, and knew she was important.
Tareena glanced back at the other woman, concerned.
When she turned back, Arran had figured it all out. {OOC: Folks who
don't know us all that well, it's complicated. The upcoming is entirely
untrue for this world's Tareena.}
Arran remembered the weeks and months they had fought alongside each
other, grown closer, loved. He remembered the difficult times they had
had during the near assassination and paralyzation of the Dragon, and their
continuing fight to defend the light... he remembered their unborn child...
an incongruous memory of murdering her under the influence of the Dark
One was filtered out on account of her clearly being alive. But she was
important to him, yes. The most important person in the world.
"That's it! I'm sorry, I don't know how I forgot. In any case, I was
wondering why we were at sea." Which wasn't the question he had come for,
but it was the first one that entered his head.
La'rece and Tareena exchanged glances, wondering how best to deal with
this oddly-affected individual.
****
Darren's next RP coming soon
Darren
Arran
"Thank you for sharing that information
with me, Elois. If you need my help, you'll know where to find me,"
Rengar said, offering her his hand. She looked at it for a few seconds,
weighing it in a way that amused Rengar. Light, are all women this
full of pride that they won't accept even the simplest gesture from a man?
Rengar was about to move his hand away and leave Elois on the floor, but
she took in then, her grip so tight that Rengar saw it turn completely
white.
So, she wants to play rough, does she?
Rengar asked himself, and in that moment he hoisted her to her feet.
Not slowly, as he should have done, but in one fast, smooth motion, so
that she had to use his chest to prevent herself from falling on her face.
Elois didn't seem to think that very funny either, for as soon as she had
gathered her balance she gave Rengar's left shin a sharp kick and turned
away, adding one last thing before she left.
"I hope that you'll keep this to yourself
for the time being, Rengar. If anyone is going to make this known
to the rest of the people on board, let it be Tareena."
"I understand," Rengar answered, watching
Elois go back to the deck. He somewhat doubted that she would come
back with him to anything important; she trusted her fellow Dragonsworn
more than she did him. Which made sense; they had been through a
lot together, just as Rengar had with his fellow Asha'man.
Rengar decided that it would be better
to go up on the deck for a while. The same feeling of queasiness
that he had been feeling before Elois little Healing had come back to him
now, and perhaps some fresh air would help to alleviate him of some of
the more distasteful symptoms.
As he climbed the stairs up to the top
of the deck he could feel himself getting sicker and sicker, until the
contents of the last meal he had eaten found their way overboard and into
the water. Rengar let himself hang off the rail for a few minutes,
trying to let some healthy color back into his face. After a while
his stomach began to feel better, but now it was his head that was beginning
to give him problems. At first it was nothing more than an annoying
ache, but soon it became so severe that Rengar found himself falling to
his knees with pain, his hands grabbing a his head. The pain subsided
after a few moments, enough to allow Rengar to rise to his feet.
Blood and bloody ashes! Why am
I having these bloody headaches? It's bad enough that I've been seasick
since we left the Sharan port, and now this! Rengar thought to himself
angrily, deciding at that moment that the best way to tough these headaches
out was the "comfort" of the hammock that the members of the Tower had
been given to sleep in instead of beds. Light, I hope that I don't
fall out the bed and onto my head. It'll probably explode!"
So Rengar made his way down below decks,
and was very surprised by who he bumped into along the way...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Now Rengar officially has the same plague
that has brought down some of the other players on the ship. You-know-who
can now send the second half of his RP out to the rest of the group.
I didn't copy and paste what you sent me in your message, though, so I
might have made an error where I'm supposed to be on the ship.
Kyle
It wasn't far to where she lay. Nothing on
the ship was really "far" from anything else on the ship. But the
aches and pains made it seem like he had just crossed a small country.
Even the Void didn't seem to help much.
Looking down at her still form, he wanted to cry.
She had been dried off after her tumble into the ocean. She had been
laid out as comfortably as possible. But she was so still and pale.
Only the faint rise and fall of her breath would convince the casual observer
she was even alive.
He took her hand in his own. Painfully, Mura'shar
channeled. He Delved, trying to figure out what was wrong, hoping
to catch something the others missed. It was ironic, the thought
to himself, that he could delve as well as anyone else, but there wasn't
much he could do about anything he found.
This time, he found nothing. There was a residual
effect of the One Power around her, but he could not make sense of it,
now that the flows had faded. Few could; it was a rare Talent.
Once, long ago, Myiona had gotten caught up in one
of her dreams. Nightmare, really. By a fluke, he was able to
follow her and wake her up. He tried this again. He channeled
Spirit into her mind. Again and again, he tried to follow the path
into the dark recesses of her mind.
He failed. He could not find the right flow
again. Or she is not trapped in a dream again, or he's too weak,
any number of reasons.
This would take skills he didn't have, he realized.
He was helpless to save his bondmate. He couldn't help his Storm
Team. He couldn't even help himself. Despair filled him.
"All the time we were together" he whispered "No
matter what the conditions were, I was sure I would be the one to die first.
I would go mad and die and take anyone who was close to me with.
Now that the taint is gone, and I have my life again, here you are, even
deeper in the clutches of this plague than I. Dying yourself for
all I know..."
He bent down and kissed her softly. Then simply
sat and waited. He ignored the crashes and cries as something thumped
and crashed nearby. He needed to think, and to plan. It was
likely that some on board would not survive. He may be one of them.
Who would replace him if he succumbed? What would they do if the
Sea Folk crew all died? And most importantly, what if Myiona died?
What would he do? How would he explain it to Skree?
Mura'shar sat there in the darkness as his own thoughts
grew darker and darker
Note: I've noticed in the last couple of days that two different
lists are being used, one is dated 7/12 and one is 7/24. the 7/24
list is more complete, so please use that one and mark your rps accordingly.
If you think you have missed any rps let me know and I'll forward whatever
you believe you missed.
M'Hael
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
Through his bond, though, he could feel that Tareena was quite warm.
She was on deck, in the sun. That had to be helping her. he made his way
toward the top deck she was on.
Unexpectedly, his foot snagged on a ring set in the floor. Unaware
of his foot, Darren stumbled, only to be caught by Rengar.
After he was steadied, Rengar put his hand to his own head, saying
"OOh, you were another fast-moving object. Don't do that."
Darren nodded. "Maybe the chill down here will do your headache some
good."
Rengar shook his head until he realized it made his entire field of
vision move painfully. This time it was Darren's turn to do the catching.
After righting, Rengar responded, "What are you talking about? It's more
stifling down here than it is on deck."
Darren kicked one foot with the other. The shoots of pain were much
smaller than they should have been. "I didn't feel that deck ring because
of the cold. It may feel hot, but after a while it's vicious. I guess the
old asha'man trick of not minding the elements was just overborne by the
exremity."
****
Riiight...
Darren Arran
Ariana was not with Elois and Mura'shar; she was struggling with
the Light-burn-them-all ladders that some idiot had decided would be better
than stairs. I already have trouble with stairs. These things
are impossible! Feels like I'm going to pitch right off of them backwards
when they sway like this. She sighed. The more I'm on ships,
the more I discover I don't like them at all!
When she finally - finally! - reached the deck, she found a serious-looking
huddle of Black Tower members discussing something in a hushed voice.
"Well, I guess ignorance can make a fine excuse," she muttered, and limped
cautiously over. After all, if they looked so glum, it was probably
something she needed to know about too. She inserted herself into
the conversation. "Is something wrong?"
They one and all looked at her as though she'd just asked whether the
moon was purple tonight. I must have really missed something!
She listened, more and more incredulous, to the story of the Sharans'
duplicity, a flashing green light from a ter'angreal, and a sudden illness
that was spreading. An illness that didn't respond to Healing.
An illness that spread in a way they couldn't figure out.
It looks like I've got something to relieve my boredom. Light,
why did I ever wish for that?
"I'll do whatever I can."
Pain stroke his head as he slowly settled his mind and distanced it
from the pounding that seemed to be coming from all around. Embracing the
source came easily, but the hold was weak.
Slowly sinking into sleep he felt a jolt. His eyes could see clearly
now, and it was the abscence of the pain that provided the jolt. Looking
around everything seemed dreamlike, and he still held onto the source which
seemed odd. He saw movement to his left. A shadow. Directing the warhorse
towards the movement that occurred in the shadows of the trees...warhorse?
Stefan looked down at the great steed that he was mounted on. It looked
like his fathers Warhorse. It was always friendly with him and would let
him ride it when he came out to feed it carrots. The horse neighed and
shook the reins. The barding shone brilliantly, and that is when he noticed
the armor he was wearing. A tad old, but still functional. His dad was
always fond of the Northern styles of armor.
Stefan arrived at the tree line, but nothing could be seen that would
indicate that it was sneaking about. The cool wind blew from the ocean
and Stefan found himself looking over the empty wasteland to an incredibly
blue ocean. The peacefulness of it all made his heart ache.
The horse was grazing on grass, the wind was cool, and the sky was
a beautiful azure blue. The ocean rolled gently towards the shore with
white caps spraing ahead.
Stefan pinched himself on the cheek. He felt it, and everything was
colorful. The sharpest colors ever. The horse was gone, and he stood there
overlooking the ocean wondering if he was dead.
When he asked her why they were at sea, she
knew he was in trouble. The sickness had gotten hold of him as well.
Quietly Tareena ordered a Soldier to help Arran belowdecks with the others.
She then squared her shoulders to once again set out to find the Sea Folk
woman in charge. The list of things to do piled up and there was
no end in sight.
Guardian of the Black Tower
Bondmate to Darren Sadke
Approaching the Sailmistress, Tareena took the lead, "Sailmistress,
greetings of the Light. As you may have become aware, several of
our Tower members have become ill …"
Winding down below deck into the back of the raker on the level just
below the main deck, La'rece finally found the cabin she was looking for.
Finding the door unlocked, La'rece opened it and looked around. Lying
on the bunk was the Windfinder, her shift sweat stained, her color palid.
This was no mere lack of sleep, nor was it any type of hangover.
The woman was seriously ill. La'rece was about to delve the woman
when a noise behind her made her turn around. Two Sea Folk women
stood glaring at the Dragonsworn.
La'rece Barata'gan
Marked Dragonsworn and Blademaster
Tareena's incredulity grew when La'rece thrust
a purse full of coin into her hand and left to check on the windfinder.
Didn't I just have to set her down about taking charge and talking to the
Sea Folk in a bad way not less than a few hours ago? She will never
learn. Still, her plan made sense, at least checking on the windfinder
did, and as far as paying the Sea Folk to not return home, that will be
the day. Tareena turned once again to face the Sailmistress.
"Now you and I both know that your windfinder is
sick and now you know why. I am not Aes Sedai, I never served in
the tower nor swore the oaths. But I can tell you this: there
is a plague on this ship which is spreading in some unknown way.
We cannot return home and if you do, you risk not only the people on this
ship but everyone else in your country. Do you want to go down in
history as the Sailmistress who couldn't see past the nose on her face
and brought ruin and sickness upon her people?" Indignation raced across
the woman's face followed by anger and then thoughtfulness. Now for
the sugar, Tareena thought to herself. "Look, I know how hard is
is to be in a position of leadership when the decisions are tough and there
are no easy answers. I am going to need all of the support and help
I can get to guide the tower through this calamity and I know you could
too. I am an intelligent, proud woman and it is hard to admit this
to anyone, least of all to you. You help me and I will help you.
Deal?" Tareena waited, hoping that the woman would make the right
decision. Tareena jingled the coin in the purse in her hand without
realizing it. Finally the woman spoke. " I do understand the
burdens of leadership and I do not wish to bring sickness to my people.
I will support you in this and not head for home. Just do not make
a mistake in thinking that I will not protect my people at any cost."
Tareena looked her straight in the eyes "Do not make the mistake of thinking
that I will not protect mine." The Sailmistress raised her fingers
to her lips and then pressed them against Tareena's. "Then it is
done." Tareena repeated the gesture "yes, it is done."
Tareena turned around and headed back towards
the cabins to let Mura'shar know what deal she had made and to make plans
for the Tower.
Guardian of the Black Tower
Bondmate to Darren Sadke
"Who is it?" he called softly just as he saw a glint of metal
in the figure's hand. His fears were realized when he shivered as
saidar was channeled and a ball of light appeared above the Sea Folk woman's
head.
He recognized her, vaguely. One of the Windfinder's apprentices.
She was younger than most of the crew, and only a few piercings.
Something-or-other din Blue Fish. She was always quite and respectful
of others. Now her eyes burned with a feverish intensity as she stalked
towards him and his comatose bondmate.
"It is your fault, you son of the sand" she hissed "You led them
You brought the sickness to our ship. It is your poison that is killing
him. Now, if it pleases the Light, you shall pay for your sins."
Mura'shar managed to get to his feet and tried to channel.
But the Void would not come. Concentration was becoming more and
more difficult.
He cursed himself for not thinking to carry a weapon. He
staggered forward and managed to grapple with the apprentice Windfinder.
for a few moments, the room was filled with the sounds of a struggle and
the occasional curse.
She was stronger than she looked. He managed to get a hold
of her knife hand, and he held on, but that was all. She kicked him, knocking
the breath from his lungs. Still he held on and managed to drag her
to the deck with him.
He felt a shiver as saidar was channeled again. He felt
invisible hands closing around his throat. But weakly. She
must not be very skilled at channeling yet. He looked into her eyes and
saw they burned with more than just madness. She had the sickness
too! Maybe it's interfering with her own channeling as well.
Again Mura'shar tried to channel. This time the Void appeared.
But it was shaky, he only got a quick weave of Fire done before it shattered.
But the spray of sparks that blew at his opponent's face was enough.
The Windfinder flung herself backwards, batting at her smoldering
hair. She dropped the knife in her haste. Mura'shar picked
it up and tried channeling again. Again it worked, though barely.
He got a shield in place, though it was barely necessary, given
her condition. He also wrapped her in flows of Air from shoulder
to ankle. He tied off both weaves. He hoped it would last long
enough for him to get help.
He kissed Myiona's still form on the forehead "I'll be right
back" he whispered and lurched for the door. He decided that it would
be a door. He needed to brace himself on a wall, but he was still
mobile. Now if he could just find someone a little healthier than
he was to take care of the Windfinder.
herself on the verge of panic.
if they could somehow get their hands on it…
Her mind felt like it was
wrapped with a towel, hindering her.. causing her thoughts to be incoherent
babblings that no one could
understand - least of all herself. The event, whatever it had
been, caused
a fit of terror to seize her
inwardly.
she could then feel. It
helped a little, but fear began to sweep through her being like a fire
in
draught season. She gasped -
the first noise she had made since she blacked out on the deck.
Talia
struggled with her bedsheets..
feeling imprisoned.. trapped.. by them.
within her. Then she
seemed to awaken.. there were other sick people there, but she didn't
really
see them. What Talia saw..
was the inside of a tent. Not just any tent. His Tent. Mera'shar, an
evil
and.. most cruel.. version of the
Black Tower's beloved M'hael.
of Him. Mera'shar.. just outside
the door.. (tent flap). Her heart beat fast with fear, and she knew
she'd
rather die than stay there. She had
to get away.. she had to leave... escape..
before. How had she not
known? Talia rushed to the opening and strained with all the might
she had..
(a porthole). She finally
managed to pull it open.. Now, to crawl through.
working, anyway with the
sickness. What she saw on the other side was Rhudiean. What she smelled
was
the desert air. What
she felt was a hot desert sun on her face. Freedom. At last. (~I'm
coming
home, Alan.~)
the watery depths of the Sea.
Tareena stopped and leaned on the rail of the ship, trying to
catch her
The problem was the
hallucinations. Some of the afflicted men were bloody violent, in the grip
of their own dreams. She had a lovely bruise clotting one cheek, and a
tender lump on her scalp from trying to restrain them.
And the numbers of
the healthy Black Tower channelers was dwindling. Although it was hard
to tell the sick from the merely exhausted, and they were all so busy at
any given time that there was really no way to tell just how many were
still healthy.
Was it possible that
it was less than a day since they'd been set upon by this flaming plague?
Or was she confused? Well, she'd lost track of time that was all.
"Elois, have you seen
Tareena?"
She shook her head
silently, and the Soldier disappeared belowdecks to look elsewhere. The
White took another deep breath of the chilling twilight air and stared
morosely at the unending black sea stretching to the horizon. She knew
that they were none of them going to survive.
With a bone-deep sigh,
the exhasuted Dragonsworn turned and ducked into the companionway that
led belowdecks...
"Talia, noooo…!"
illnesses.
Sea spray rose up and over the side of the raker wetting everything
on deck. La'rece paid it no attention as she stood at the bow of
the ship watching the coast slip past. A hand on her should had her
spinning around in surprise. The Captain smiled, a grim smile but
still ready to gamely face what had to be faced.
another. But this much he knew.
A tear slid down his cheek. This was his fault. He
was in charge, and he led the Storm Team to disaster. Now he couldn't
even go home. And Talia has paid for his mistakes with her life.
A watery death in the Sea of Storms. He had become withdrawn ever
since. Speaking less and less as his mood darkened.
It should have been me, he knew in his heart. When he
heard the news that she had jumped or fallen overboard, he went numb all
over. She had had a difficult time in the months before the mission.
Imprisoned in some bizarre alternate universe (He didn't care to dwell
on what his double might have done to her. She was always uncomfortable
around him afterwards) and some personal quest afterwards. And now
he had led her to her death. And
others may follow, including his bondmate, and himself eventually.
Maybe an answer could be found among the ter'angreal. They
still didn't know what most of them did. Maybe one can cure them.
Or at least kill them all quickly. That may be a mercy as well.
Still the shore passed them by. They were heading north.
Soon they will be in Cairhein. His homeland. A home that no
longer welcomed him. Years ago, he swore never to step foot there
again, to protect his family and friends from the madness that was his
destiny. Now that madness was gone. But he was still no less
a threat.
At least I won't technically be "stepping foot" in Cairhein he
thought in bitter humor. He'll be on a ship.
He shook himself from bad memories. He hoped La'rece knew
what she was doing. It was clear to him that he was no longer fit
to command. Maybe he should go play with some ter'angreal...
containing explicit instructions to her estates in southern Arafel.
They needed utmost secrecy. There could be no unexpected 'guests'
from any tower or camp.
drivers were instructed to stay away from everyone until the wagons
were loaded and covered.
The Arafellan chuckled as she mounted her horse. Turning the
stallion, La'rece shouted to Mura'shar, "Keep an eye on Myiona and Tareena!"
Then turning to say something to one of the servants standing near the
road, La'rece looked back once more, waved and rode on at a ground eating
pace. Tar Valon awaited.
After an extensive examination, he found it's abilities
to be useless. At the moment it was unimportant if he found a ter'angreal
that removed the dust from his clothing when he channeled into it.
He went on searching.
He kept rummaging. He found that accursed
mushroom ter'angreal that turned him blue for a while. A fairly powerful
male angreal. More searching. Items that would win them acclaim
at the Black Tower if they could just return there safely clattered on
the ground. Nothing useful now. Maybe this was a fool's errand.
He drew out a small chalice. Half was jet
black, half was ivory white. But the two blended together.
A wavy line of gray separated them. He could almost feel Spirit calling
to him. Whatever this thing was, it required a huge amount of the
One Power to activate.
Letters were written on the gray. It was Old
Tongue. He tried to make out what they said.
"Drink from me and learn all that you know" he pondered
that. He must be mistranslating it. But "knowledge" he was
pretty certain of. It might be worth a try. He took out a flask
of water and poured a small quantity into the cup.
He channeled. Spirit wasn't his strongest
Power, but he was no weakling at it. He ignored the pain channeling this
much saidin caused him. It was nowhere near his usual capacity. He
cursed the plague once more as he drank the water. The world blurred
away. He felt himself falling...
...Mura'shar lay on his back. He was on a
grassy hill, looking up at the clouds in the sky. One odd shaped
cloud looked just like a horse running across the sky.
"It looks more like an egg to me" said a familiar
voice. Had he spoken aloud? He turned around and stared.
Myiona stood before him.
"Well, isn't it an egg?" she asked, pointing.
Mura'shar turned around. Sure enough, the horse was now an egg rolling
across the sky.
He looked around again and started to understand.
He was dreaming This place had the same sense of unreality as the odd dreams
he had been drawn into a couple of time by Myiona. Was he drawn into
one of her dreams again?
He was about to ask her that when he saw she was
not there anymore. Narnek, the Sharan merchant was there instead.
Mura'shar balled his hands into fists and launched himself at the cowled
figure. Even as he closed the gap, the figure was suddenly someone
else. An old man, a family servant who had been dead for years.
He barely remembered him save that he used to call the kind old man "the
Horseman" as a small child.
"Who are you?" he asked him. Or her.
Or it. He couldn't be sure what he was seeing.
"Who are you?" the old man asked him back.
Then the figure changed into himself. No, not him. Mera'shar.
The cruel gleam in his eyes could not be him.
"Is this some kind of trick?" he demanded.
"What do you want? Who are you?"
The figure kept changing. Always into people
he knew. Some he loved. Others he hated. Some were dead
and gone for years. Others he hadn't seen in so long he had nearly
forgotten him.
"Tough question" Talia said. "I am you.
We all are, Or maybe your perceptions. You really don't know."
"Of course I don't know! That's why I'm asking
you! Just answer my question, please."
"You can only answer questions we know the answer
to already" Stevan responded. "What do you want to know"
Mura'shar decided to play along "All right.
How do I cure the disease that struck down my Storm Team? DO I know
how to do that?"
"No" said Elois "The usual methods of Healing do
not work on this plague" Alan added as the form changed shape again.
"So if the usual methods don't work, what do I have
to do?"
"Perhaps nothing. Perhaps nothing can be done"
It was odd seeing such a pessimistic statement coming from his mother.
She was always so happy, so full of life "But in the Age of Legends, there
were weaves known then that we have forgotten are even possible"
A Black-clad Myiona, the evil duplicate who held
him prisoner continued "New weaves are even now being learned. Things
that were thought impossible, even in the Age of Legends, are happening
today"
Nadden, the Aes Sedai who helped free him, and was
later murdered by this Myiona, appeared "When the usual doesn't work, try
the unusual"
"It's not like you have anything to lose.
People have already died" La'rece finished
"great, that narrows it down" Mura'shar said sarcastically.
So maybe something other than Healing is needed. What, then?
A bit of Illusion? Some weather control? A bit of Fire?
We are trained to be weapons. We are not Brown or White Ajah, who
spend all their time in study and research! Does that mean we have
to throw ourselves at the mercy of Tar Valon? Or hope La'rece manages
to discover something? Trust in luck?"
Tor shook his head. "This disease is not natural.
It is something of the One Power. Any weave can be unwoven." said
the Aielman. Or cut. Or dissipated. Even balefire can be turned
aside"
A counterweave? Why hadn't he thought of that?
Or had he? If these were all the voices of his mind, the idea they
gave him must have been in there somewhere.
"All right. It's worth investigating.
Now how do I wake up, or go back, or whatever it is I do to leave"
Elois looked puzzled "You do not know. Therefore,
we don't either"
"Try releasing saidin" suggested Ivan.
Mura'shar tried. To his horror, he couldn't!
"I can't let go!" he cried out.
The world shifted and blurred. His whole life
literally passed before his eyes. Everything about him he had a conscious
memory of happening sped by in a blink. Things in his childhood long
since discarded as childish foolishness were relived in detail. Every
laugh, every tear, every scraped knee and fear for his very life.
It seemed never to end. It seemed to pass by in a single breath.
He was suspended in darkness. There was nobody
there. He was nowhere. He was completely and totally alone.
Except for one thing. He sensed it in the back of his mind.
A tiny knot of emotions and sensations that were not his. He held
onto it. His lifeline. He last connection to the here and now.
"Myiona" he breathed, and slept.
In the dark room where the plague-stricken Storm
Team had stashed their precious cargo, Mura'shar slept. The black
and white chalice slipped from his limp fingers and rolled away.
A few drops of water dribbled from it as it rolled away. It seemed
to glow a bit in the near darkness, but Mura'shar did not notice.
He slept, and dreamed, and bore a small smile on his lips.
That outta keep me out of it for a while. Anyway, the ter'angreal
is keeping him in a sorta enchanted sleep. He might be accessible
via TAR, but I haven't thought much about how he'll snap out of it.
If he does. Probably he'll simply stumble on the way to break the
connection. Anyway, last RP for a while.
Asha'man who's not all there
You will refer to me as "Librarian," Sir-I am not a "Bookie"!
rich, rolling landscape around her. They had been at the tower
for days
now, with no end in sight. Moral was at an all time low.
It was a blow to
the Tower to lose Mura'shar into some mysterious sleep. Tareena
had some
Soldiers move him into Myiona's room. This way, that could at least
be
together physically, if not mentally. Tareena had temporarily assumed
control of the tower, until the Black Tower council could take action
on
promoting a new leader or a cure was quickly found for Mura'shar but
that
couldn't happen until their lines of communication could be reopened
with
the rest of the Tower. It was all a game of hurry up and wait.
It seemed like forever since Tareena had discovered
that Lar'ece had
left. She had left no note or warning of her departure and Tareena
had
heard whispers that maybe she had deserted them. Tareena could not
say with
certainty where she had gone but she would stake her life that it was
in
some way connected to finding a cure, not leaving the tower stranded.
Tareena was getting to know the Arafellan woman, probably better than
anyone, aside from Myiona, and she knew that her brave and fierce friend
would not desert them. With a sigh, she continued to walk.
She missed her
friends....Myiona hadn't woke up since the beginning of this awful
sea
voyage, Mura'shar was down and now La'rece. Who would be next,
she
wondered.
Guardian of the Black Tower
Bondmate to Darren Sadke