Coursen's Enlistment Interview (Attn: Alex)

[Craig]

Mordjen, Tower Guard

The grey-haired guard jabbed his sour-faced companion roughly in the ribs. "I swear, one day you're going ta let one of these pups stray, and you'll be out on yer arse Heb."

Heb grunted dismissively in response, meandering back to the guard post without a glance back. The grey-haired guard threw his hands up in exasperation with a loud sigh. "Fine," he muttered, turning to the new arrival. "The name's Mordjen. Pleased to meet you. I'll take you to where you ought to go. If you'll follow me, please?"

Mordjen stepped out in front, taking comfortable but ground-eating strides. As he walked, he chattered amiably with the newcomer. The entrance road was somewhat long, and Mordjen only went halfway down before veering off to the right. He cut across a field towards a large four- or five-story building. It looked like a dormitory, and faced the tall glass Grey Tower itself.

"I never tried t' be a Warder meself," Mordjen continued. "Me wife, Liz, bless 'er. Well, she would probably cry herself to sleep every single night if I told her I wanted t' try an' get meself bonded to some fancy Aes Sedai." The guard chuckled at that, then cleared his throat after stealing a glance at the man striding alongside him. "No no, I watch the front gate, and help carry firewood when there are special occasions. That is more than enough connection t' the One Power for me, yessir. But if I could learn some of the way of the Warders, like how they fight with their bare hands, I would very much enjoy learning about that. I think it would make me better at being a guard." Mordjen seemed to be lost in his own thoughts for a moment, his pace slowing briefly.

"Anyways," Mordjen perked up, "Master Taavo, he said he would be seeing t' inviting me and some of the boys to a class with his trainees. 'pparently there's a Blademaster for that now. Am sure that will come about when the time is right." They were walking into a hard packed dirt yard, between four buildings spaced far apart. To their immediate right was a barn-sized building all on a single story, with a few people around it. The men and women practicing various forms of fighting styles were spread from there all the way across the Yard. At the opposite end were two newer structures, made of unweathered stone, although the purposes of either was not evident from the exterior. Immediately ahead was the large dormitory hall, and it was towards that and a large set of doors that Mordjen led them. "Master Taavo is a good man, a kindly soul. Still, don't be letting on what happened with Heb back there, if you please. He's a trial for most, but this Tower is probably the only thing keeping him from finding an arrow wi' his name on it. He didn't mean no harm; I'll keep on at him. The Master of Training's office is upstairs." Mordjen pointed at the set of stairs that ran central through the large lobby. The foyer had a tiled floor and wood panelled walls, with several tables, chairs and benches set out, occupied by groups of trainees in the various greys of the Warder Yards.

Mordjen turned and clasped his hands behind his back, bouncing up once on his toes. "He usually has open hours in his office from a couple of hours before High, until a few hours before Low, if he's no out running an errand. If he doesn't happen t' be there right then, there is usually a book with a pen. You can scribble a request for a meeting, and then come back. Right now, it is about four hours after Early, so he is probably already there." The guard grinned broadly, and nodded. "It is good to welcome you to the Tower. Good luck!" Patting the newcomer jovially on the shoulder, Mordjen retreated back the way they had come.

Ravak t'Sha'hal Darrow, and not the Master of Training

In the moderately-sized office that was a carbon copy of his own, Ravak Darrow admired the doorway that separated the Master of Training's main office to the private study. At some point, repairs had been made to the door. He grinned, knowing all too well what had happened to this door, and who had caused it.

Turning away, his fingers lightly brushed the pommels of his twin blades. His heron-marked longsword hung beside his right thigh whilst his Shienaran-forged sword-breaker rested by his left. Neither weapon had been his when he took this office. That seemed years ago, his time as the Grey Tower's Master of Training. Years ago, yet his heart somehow pined for those days again. Those years had been far from kind, but his duty had a clear, unmuddied purpose. Not like now, he thought solemnly.

Rav slowly meandered to Julian's chair and sat down. None of the furniture was familiar, but seated at this angle, he could picture it all once more in his head. He closed his eyes, imagination drawing him back to the days of his youth, when he was making foolish mistakes about chasing after the wrong women.

The familiar sound of creaking floorboards drew the Master of Arms' eyes open. That sound, that infamous sound, meant that someone was approaching. Ravak considered moving, standing, making himself less obvious. He considered it and rejected the notion. Someone's about to have a bit of a shock, he mused warmly.

OOC: Post Coursen's perspective of the guard showing him to the Warder Hall, continuing into the Master of Training's office and his approach to/through the open door.

[Alex]

Coursen wearily and even somewhat hesitantly approached the Guard Post, and at its entrance he announced himself. "Coursen Castellan, requesting entrance." A guard came up to the door and beckoned him in roughly, a scowl on his face showing just briefly before he turned around and went into the post. "What," said the guard, "are you doing waitin' out by the door? 'Ave you got no balls, man?! Come in!" Coursen, coming in after the guard with a steely glint to his eyes, said to him coldly and with careful consideration to his tone- rough but respectful-, "Actually, sir, no- I don't." At that, the guard turned back to him, a confused look upon his face. Before Coursen was forced to explain himself to the fool guard, another person came in. He took them both outside the post after confirming that Coursen was who he said he was and, having Coursen wait a bit off to the side a bit, he said to the first guard, "I swear, one day you're going ta let one of these pups stray, and you'll be out on yer arse Heb."

Coursen, of course, took note of the name- he didn't even have to strain to hear it from the place he was standing at- and attempted to look uninterested as the second guard turned to him and approached. "The name's Mordjen. Pleased to meet you. I'll take you to where you ought to go. If you'll follow me, please?" Coursen nodded to Mordjen with a kind smile on his face and, at his beck, followed him. Mordjen seemed like a kind enough fellow, and talked to Coursen their entire way to the offices of the Master of Training. When they arrived, Mordjen gave Coursen a rough schedule of the Master's times to be in the office, and then started off after clapping him on the shoulder and wishing him luck. Coursen didn't even have time to say goodbye before he was gone.

Going up the stairs and to the office, Coursen paused just before the door into the office and hesitated a few moments. Working himself up the courage, however, he knocked on the door, calling out, "Coursen Castellan, requesting permission to address the Master of Training."

[Craig]

Ravak

The Master of Arms couldn't keep himself from grinning, teeth flashing white. "Of course, come in." He lessened the broadness of his grin by the time the door opened, admitting with it a tall man. Ravak took in all of the relevant details quickly with his trained eyes. Not a Borderlander, nor a southerner. Trained with weapons, at least to some degree. That said, the scar that threatened to split the man's head in twain was not a war wound. He read in other details, including some he didn't like. Nobility and royalty had a way of moving or standing, and it wafted off of this man like a bad perfume.

Whatever his personal thoughts, Ravak was a professional. He extended a hand to gesture to one of the seats opposite Julian's desk, and his smile remained friendly. "Have a seat, Coursen. Is that a Murandian name?" It certainly wasn't Murandian – Saldaean names were long enough, and Murandians went beyond that – but Rav wanted to put the man at ease. The fire and brimstone Ravak Darrow of years past had softened with marriage.

"I should start by saying that I'm not the Master of Training. Julian Gaidin is out of the Tower at present, but I can help you. My name is Ravak Gaidin, and you... You are here to join the Warder Yards, mm?" No-one from outside the Tower came to see the Master of Training for any other reason.

Ravak started to open the drawers on Julian's desk, looking for one of the various ledgers that contained every Drin's name throughout the ages. "Um," he said distractedly, "why are you here? Why the Grey Tower as opposed to elsewhere?"

[Alex]

Coursen opened the door and, entering, noticed the man at the desk surveying him intently, yet not for a long period of time. So, Coursen allowed himself the moments he took going in and sitting down to survey the man himself. Coursen answered the man's question about his name shortly but respectfully by saying, "The first name is Ghealdanian. The surname is for bastards of my family." Nodding then affirmatively to the question of if he was here to join the Warder Yards, he sighed softly at the question posed as to why the Grey Tower as opposed to some place else.

"To be completely honest, Ravak Gaidin, I am not entirely sure. I could have served in the Legion of the Wall, but no matter how faithfully I served, nor how skilled I was, due to the status granted to me by my mother's lack of being wed to my father, well... I never would go far. However, I still have the burning need to serve and to contribute- to make a difference. But, even beyond that, I have a longing desire to find out who I am. I, Coursen Castellan, have been a servant my entire life- either to my family in the misplaced hope of 'earning' their respect and affection, or to the current Queen of Ghealdan while she was the princess, as her bodyguard. I know service is a big part of who I am, but I want to find out the rest, too. And, well... The Grey Tower just may be conducive to both pursuits." Coursen nodded a bit then, his face somewhat flushed in embarrassment.

[Craig]

Ravak

"Mmhm" was Ravak's all-so-elegant reply. The Shienaran appreciated the honesty, but he didn't like anything that touched on southern nobility. Just a bunch of upstart idiots. But there were good people who came out from those families; Coursen may be one. He at least had the wisdom to get out from under his family's thumb, and the courage to come to the Grey Tower. Or is it the courage to get out from under the thumb, and...

"I imagine you're good on your old tongue?" Ravak asked rhetorically. "Aes Sedai. It means 'servant of all'. Asha'man means 'guardian' and gaidin stands for 'brother of battle'. Joining the Warder Yards means you will either be conducted into war, or bonded to someone who's duty is to serve. If you're looking for freedom instead of servitude, you're not going to find it here. Not that you'll find servitude here, exactly."

The Master of Arms eventually fish out a ledger from Julian's desk drawers. It was a wide book, bound in leather, made to endure. Rav turned to the page that was bookmarked, finding half of the entries already filled. In the first open space, he started to scratch in Coursen's details. Coursen Castellan. Ghealdan. Height and weight he could estimate. "Your age?" Rav wrote the answer into his ledger. "What weapons are you trained in?" No doubt swords. Nobles were big on swords, but guessing at weapons was not easy. "What do you know of Warders, Coursen? Do you have any interest or intention of becoming a Warder, with all that entails; Bonded to a channeller until the end of your days, or the end of theirs?"

[Alex]

"To answer the easiest and shortest question, Ravak Gaidin, I am forty years of age." Coursen chuckles softly then, but shakes his head a bit and forges on, "I am trained with the rapier and the dagger, and I know very little of Warders, to be completely honest." Then, he gets a thoughtful look upon his face. "And very little of the process itself of Bonding, either, but I know this completely: I do nothing without doing it completely and with all that I am."

Nodding then, slowly and almost hesitantly, Coursen continued by saying, "And though I am not as sure of this as I am of my commitment- to the Grey Tower: to my upcoming duties here, to its people, to my progression and possibly even to the one I potentially Bond with-, I feel comfortable enough saying that, since I came here, I do wish to become a Warder in due time. I came here, partly, to push myself, and to see where I could get myself- I think that being in the Bond of one who wishes to serve all or to be a guardian would lend itself to that, as well."

[Craig]

OOC: Let me just preface this by apologising for how long my replies are taking. It's happening across all of my threads, but it's still a poor way to be treating a new character.

Ravak

Forty? That put the Warder Yards' newest recruit at a year's advantage over his superior, but then Ravak was reasonably young for his role. He'd always been bad at judging ages too, even amongst the non-channellers. Age is just a number. After all, he was married to a woman with grown-up great-great-grandchildren.

"Little of Warders and Bonds, mm?" Ravak frowned thoughtfully. "That seems fair. I wouldn't believe most of what's written about it at any rate. You'll learn a lot more about what a Warder is and what the Bond entails in your time here."

The Master of Arms' iridescent quill glided across the page as he completed Coursen's entry in the ledger. "You're right about doing it completely, however. The Bond is more intimidate than any lover's caress and it is ever-present. If or when you Bond, it will be the biggest decision you make. Trust me." Even now, Miahala was with him. He could feel her emotions as if they were his own, and occasionally they were his own being reflected back off from her. It was fortunate, if unsurprisingly, that they got on so well together.

The last line of the entry was finished. Rav turned the leather-bound book to face Coursen, and pointed to a blank line with the back of the iridescent quill. "If you wish to join the men and women of the Warder Yards, you need only make your mark here." The Master of Arms offered the quill to Coursen, and took it back as soon as the man had signed his name.

"Coursen Castellan." The Shienaran's voice was ceremonial in tone. "You have just taken the first step on the path towards the fancloak. A small step. You'll have a few days to pick things up, but the training process will see you getting the proper training in whatever weapons you choose."

The Gaidin's voice turned serious, but not unkindly. "I shall warn you now Coursen, you will be hurt. You will be broken. Even practise weapons can leave their mark, and their sting will be unkind. If you haven't experienced the touch of Healing before, you soon will." Rav had lived for months as a trainee with his body a colourful tapestry of blues and browns and yellow bruises. "You shall also undertake daily lessons in the strategy and tactics of warfare. You will also be sharing in the chores that keep this place running."

The brawny Shienaran rose from Julian's chair smoothly. "Come," he gestured towards Coursen, then towards the door. The fancloak on his back shimmered brown, attempting to merge the Warder in with the walls.

They moved back through the Warder Hall. "You have now started your training here at the Warder Yards with the rank of Drin. You will report to Julian Gaidin, the Master of Training, as your direct superior. If you somehow land yourself in my office, well, things have gone really awry." Ravak flashed a grin. "Your lessons and other training will be directed by teachers. Some of these will be Gaidin, others Ji'val. Regardless of your rank and theirs, if they are the teacher, you obey."

Ravak led the way back down the stairs into the great foyer. The ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai – the black of the Dragon's Fang conjoined with the so-called Flame of Tar Valon – was inlaid in the marble flooring, a striking impression on any that entered these halls. Leaving through a set of double doors, he continued the introductions without looking to see how far, or if, Coursen was lagging behind. "A key point about the Grey Tower: here, Gaidin stand as equals alongside Aes Sedai and Asha'man. Likewise, you stand equal to a novice or soldier. Your future bondmate will be a peer, not a superior; remember that."

Now out in the cooler day's air, the sonorous percussion of wood striking wood and barked instructions filled the air. Trainees and teachers were sparring, practising, and exercising in small groups, whilst others laboured alone out in the expansive yards. "You have a start, knowing something of the weapon that you carry. I would suggest thinking about what weapon or weapons you wish to gain mastery in. It may be worth focusing on one weapon over all others, but that's a personal preference. Maybe you'll even see a new weapon that you'd prefer mastering." He grinned again, his hard face becoming genuinely warm. "Or you may also wish to learn how to use your own body as a weapon. If you end up disarmed or caught without a weapon, you still have to be able to defend yourself and your Asha'man or Aes Sedai. You will find postings for various classes later, but he sure to look up Unarmed Combat as one of them. We actually have a Blademaster for that course."

Ravak stood and watched the scenes of training before him. He had a lot of pride invested in the regime that saw all of these men and women practising before him.

OOC: Please describe Coursen's impressions of the Yard and the trainees/trainers as they walk about. Raise anything that catches his attention, or that you have a question about. Make use of the Warder Yards Art Gallery in aiding your descriptions.