New Kids on the Block (attn: Rodric/Marla)

[Locke]

Alric Aurella

Asha’man Rodric of the Green Ajah. According to scuttlebutt, the man had recently returned to the Tower and shaken things up in the Ajah. Nobody could agree on much. They did agree on one thing though, Asha’man Rodric was a ball buster of the highest order. Word of Alric’s block must have reached the man, because he’d summoned the younger man to meet with him as soon as possible.

Now, Alric strode in the Green Ajah’s quarters looking for his rooms. He wore a freshly pressed uniform and hand shined boots. He’d show that same courtesy to the lowest beggar. He’d asked a servant and she’d told him three doors from the end of the hall. Once he found the door, paused outside, taking a moment to compose himself. He checked himself for lint and loose threads. He raised his hand to knock, then lowered it. His heart was pounding in his chest. This was absurd, whatever the rumors, Rodric was just a man. Get yourself together Alric, you’ve faced down High Lords and cavalry charges. You survived a fight with a Blademaster. For good measure, he shoved his nerves into the Flame and pulled the Void around him. It didn’t cease to amaze him that this old swordsman’s trick was so integral to using Saidin. It didn’t cease to infuriate him that swords came so easily to him but the One Power still eluded him. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

[Sunny]

Rodric Amadeo

Rodric did not enjoy teaching. Some in the Tower might argue that the man did not enjoy much of anything at all, and many would wonder if he was even capable of smiling. The list of things the man enjoyed doing was rather short, it was true, but teaching was especially low on his list of "do not want." Block-breaking happened to be lower still. Thus when the Master of Soldiers informed the newly returned Asha’man that he would be doing both or the M'Hael would have words with him, he had been...less than enthusiastic. To put it mildly. It didn’t help that the man in front of him was a flaming Aiel savage. Who had decided it was a fantastic idea to put one of those in a position of authority, anyway?

The Asha’man sat in his arm chair and smoked his pipe in irritated silence while a servant straightened his study in preparation for his undesirable guest. Eventually he got annoyed with the movement and shooed the woman out with a flip of his fingers. She departed with a deep curtsy and an unreadable look over her shoulder, and he went back to his contemplation of a large map that hung on his wall.

When the knock came, he opened the door with the One Power. “Enter,” he said, without budging from his chair or looking up from his pipe. “Tell me your name, boy.” Introductions over, he finally looked up, cocking the eyebrow above his good eye. “I am told you have trouble finding saidin. Do me a bloody favor and tell me what you know. Be quick about it, now.”

OOC: Rodric's personal chambers are behind a closed door- this is just a study type of place. The room is....basically what you'd expect of the Green Ajah. Weapons, battle maps, armor, etc. He's sitting in a leather arm chair, and there are several other places to sit around the room.

[Locke]

Alric Aurella

The door swung in suddenly, revealing Asha’man Rodric seated in a leather armchair. Sweeping the room with a quick glance, Alric didn’t see a sign of a servant or other aid; the door must have been opened with the One Power. Sitting, Rodric’s exact height was hard to gauge, but the man’s presence was ten feet tall. His completion reminded Alric of his own mother’s family and their unclear heritage. Maybe they shared a common heritage. Part of him wanted to ask, but that one eyed glare didn’t invite many questions beyond, What can I do so you won’t Channel me into ash? To which the answer was most likely Nothing. The blank eyepatch itself had spawned all manner of rumor. The most outlandish of which involved him fighting three Fades, after he’d lost the eye. Obviously Borderland superstitions, Alric didn’t buy it. He’d seen enough battle wounds in his life to know that sometimes the story wasn’t any more exciting than a stray arrow. That said, it didn’t change the fact that Asha’man Rodric reminded him of one of those career company sergeants who’d seen hundreds of captains come and go, and had only ever been impressed by a few. In short, not a man to be trifled with.

Back straight, Alric stepped off smartly and strode forth. After coming to a crisp stop three paces directly in front of the Asha’man, he snapped to attention, eyes fixed on a point in the distance. “Soldier Alric Aurella reporting as ordered, sir,” he snapped out in a manner that had been drilled into him as a recruit. Somewhere inside the Void, he was surprised to find that he'd almost identified himself as Captain again. The Asha’man continued smoking his pipe, disinterestedly. Continuing as ordered, Alric said, “I can achieve the Void without any difficulty. I’m currently there now. I just can’t take hold of Saidin. Most of the time, I can barely feel it.” He paused concerned that Rodric had meant his knowledge about the Power, not his ability to us it. Digging around in his memories from his classes he said, “Saidin is the male half of the Source, Saidar, the female. There are five types of flow, Fire and Earth which men tend to be stronger with, Air and Water, which women tend to be stronger with, and the fifth Spirit which isn’t stronger in men or women.” Remembering Asha’man Rodric’s command for brevity, he cut off, eyes still fixed on a point on the wall behind the man. It appeared to be a map of the Borderlands.

[Sunny]

Rodric

The Green planted his elbows on the arms of his chair and sat back as he listened to the man’s report. For report it was, delivered in crisp, clear tones. The man who stood before Rodric clearly had a background in one army or another. If the neatness of his clothing and the very specific way he played his feet had not given him away, the way he stared off into the distance while speaking certainly did. Like Rodric himself, the soldier seemed at odds with every known national stereotype. Which army were you in? The Asha’man supposed he would learn more than he ever needed to know about about Alric Aurella soon enough.

“Any wet-eared farmboy coming in from the flaming fields should know that much before even attempting to reach for the True Source,” Rodric commented once Alric fell quiet, then waved his hand impatiently at the subtle change in the man’s demeanor. “Blood and ashes, relax boy. You remember what you are bloody taught, which is more than I can say for most of this Tower.”

He chewed on the stem of his pipe for a moment. “The Indigos would be utterly fascinated that you can achieve the Void, but cannot see saidin. Have you touched the Source at all since coming to the Tower? No? Peace! Wilders can be a real-” He cut off, looking up at Alric and waving at the chair across from him. “Have a seat, boy, I’m not going to flaming eat you.” The way the soldier moved as he sat, he clearly didn’t believe him.

Silence reigned for a time, the Asha’man puffing on his pipe as he thought. Finally he shifted, looking across at his companion. “We can't work on breaking it until we know what the bloody block actually is,” he said. “Talk to me about your past, boy. I want to hear about times when events have gone in your favor despite all odds against it.”

[Locke]

Alric Aurella

Eat him indeed, Alric wasn’t afraid of the man. He just had a healthy respect of veterans, coupled with the man’s ability to burn him where he stood. He stopped lying to himself, sure he was a little intimidated by the Asha’man, but cavalry charges were terrifying, but you face them down with a straight face. Carefully, he took one of the other seats, a leather char without arm rests that was blatantly less comfortable than Rodric’s.

He sat for a moment, wracking his brain. Events going in his favor against all odds. Did surviving six years of bloody war count? Somehow he didn’t think Lady Kalenda asking him to dance counted, or the kiss she’d given him. Two years languishing in Trasailles definitely didn’t count. He looked up, meeting Rodric’s eye, “Ridgecat Company, my pike company. I was just a conscript. After just three years, they made me a captain. My education might have helped with that some, but they were an outstanding unit. We were more successful than we had any right to be. I never really understood, I thought I’d just developed a good fitness regimen for my men, but we always arrived for battle much fresher than most of the other companies. We could rally and find our second wind when our opponents were ready to give up the fight. I don’t know if that’s what you were looking for.”

[Sunny]

Rodric

The Green looked at Alric with new interest. “Burn me, that would indeed,” he said slowly. A thread of saidin wrapped around his pipe, lighting the tabac within as he thought.

Compared to Shienaran Blight squads, southern armies were as soft as a maiden’s thigh, but some exceptions did exist. The Cairhienin army was ridiculous as a general rule, but their pikes had fought well in the Aiel War by all accounts, and had maintained their edge ever since. A source of national pride, the Asha’man supposed, although the fact that they allowed that skill to waste away in a castle instead of sending it north to fight the Shadow annoyed him.

Of more immediate interest to the one-eyed man was the soldier before him. Alric was not only too young, but also clearly not Cairhienin. And yet he had been made a captain in the nation’s finest? Luck indeed…

He sighed as the taste of tabac covered his tongue, and elaborated as the smoke still curled around his face. “Those who can channel have the ability to….renew….a person. Extend their stamina beyond anything any flaming human could normally endure. It’s bloody dangerous at the best of times; a person so renewed could march until their burning hearts give out. It is possible that in desperation you did something of the sort for your company, but blood and ashes, the toll that must have taken-” He cut off, inhaling slowly before continuing.

“A day or two later you got so flaming sick you thought you were about to leave your earthly body and make first hand acquaintance with the bloody Creator, or I’m no Asha’man.” It was not a question; if Alric had not spent at least a week in a near-coma shortly after that miraculous march, the Green would be shocked indeed. “Tell me about other times you got sick, or felt strange. Perhaps that will lead us to our answer. ”

[Locke]

Alric Aurella

Maybe, Rodric was right. Alric really wasn’t certain. Ridgecat Company were just a group of fine soldiers. He wanted to doubt it, but if he could Channel, he would have to begin to accept certain things. Maybe he had somehow caused their occasional second winds. The One Power was supposed to be able to do all manner of miraculous things. If that was the case, why hadn’t his unconscious mind do something more directly helpful such as rain fire? xThere were times he’d fallen extremely ill in the army, but what did one expect, they spent almost two years in a stalemate along the River Erinin. He’d probably just caught something or eaten some bad camp food.

Alric let out a rueful laugh, “It’s the army, if you didn’t spend at least a week shaking and puking your guts out, you weren’t doing it right. Sorry, I wish I could help, I know I didn’t get excessively sick again after Gustavus Damodred took command. We were able to break the stalemate and weren’t camping on piles of our own waste.” He paused, his scholar’s mind latching onto something. “Is sickness common for Channelers? Will I constantly be falling ill as I train?”

[Sunny]

Rodric

“Peace! No, you won’t be constantly ill,” Rodric said wearily. The Green inhaled again, then pulled his pipe from his mouth and pursed his lips. His student had a point about army illness. Someone who didn’t know what to look for wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Burn me, but he’s not making this easy, he thought irritably. Since when was life easy? Now there was a question for the ages. “You’re one of the very few to survive that particularly pleasant portion of the channeling process, and you should count your flaming lucky stars that that is the case.” Alric face betrayed his confusion, and he sighed.

“Some people will channel whether they want to or not, soldier; you happen to be one of them. When such a person channels without training, they get sick. Bone-breaking, mind-crushing, sanity-destroying sick. The first time it happens it might be days on end before the illness strikes, and it might be mild, like a cold or a bit of vertigo. The more you bloody channel, the less time it takes and the more sick you get, until finally they happen at the same time. After that...well, most stay sick. Their bodies rot, their minds burn like the sun, and they die screaming. There’s nothing to be done for those poor suckers.”

He paused, arching his eyebrow as he pierced his student with a fierce gaze. “A lucky few, yourself among them thank the bloody Creator on your knees, don’t get sick. Many never know they are able to channel at all. They develop a block, a bloody psychological necessity to access the One Power, which must be broken before they can freely channel. The derogatory term for such people is ‘Wilders,’ but in reality they’re just poor bloody sods with no idea what’s happening to them.”

He ended the speech with a grunt, falling into a deep thought that defied interruption. Eventually he seemed to remember he had a visitor, and looked up. “Because you have no bloody idea how or when your prior channeling may have occurred other than that one instance, we will need to experiment. We are done for the day. Find some time to read about blocks in the Library. Meet me…” he paused, thinking. “Meet me near the fountain in the Gardens in two days. Dismissed, soldier.”

And with that the grizzled Asha'man went back to his pipe as if he were completely alone.

[Locke]

Alric Aurella

Alric stared darkly across the cascading fountain at the bald Asha’man. Apparently fifteen minutes early isn’t early enough, he thought as he watched Rodric nonchalantly smoke his pipe. He didn’t know why, but it really rankled him. He’d showed up to the meeting early. Rodric had no business already being there. It was an absurd thing to be upset about and he knew it. He also suspected the Asha’man knew he was annoyed as well.

Taking a deep breath, he shoved his annoyance into the Flame and pulled the Void about him. Rodric seemed like the type who enjoyed getting under people’s skin. He wasn’t going to give the man the satisfaction. Striding around the fountain, he stopped in front of Rodric, standing with his hands clasped behind his back ‘At Ease.’ “Soldier Alric Aurella, reporting as ordered, sir,” he said confidently, but without the same snap of their first encounter. From their first meeting, he’d gleaned that the Asha’man found excessive formality tiring. Alric didn’t feel comfortable relaxing completely around the man, nor did he think that would be acceptable either. He’d always felt that it was better to err on the side of formality anyway.

Unsure what king of lesson Rodric intended to teach, Alric steeled himself. From all he’d read, breaking Blocks seemed to be a rather brutal science. He eyed the fountain sideways, something told him he might find himself being forced under the water, head first.

[Sunny]

Rodric bloody Amadeo

The soldier eyed the fountain like it would eat him, and Rodric found himself momentarily amused by a mental image of the ter'angreal sprouting teeth. He kept it hidden behind a stony exterior, however, as he looked Alric up and down. Still in good order, clean, and formal. Pity it would be so short-lived, really.

"Have you had any bloody luck in determining what allows you to access saidin?" Rodric asked around his pipestem. The Mayener shook his head. Rodric scowled as he put his pipe away. "Then we had best start ruling out possibilities, hadn't we?” For some reason, his student actually looked relieved.

Alric made intimate acquaintance with the fountain that day. Rodric doused him with icy water to see if shock would bring anything about. When that didn’t work, he practically drowned the man to test his response to panic. The total concentration of balancing on one foot on a fence rail for an extended period of time followed, with the man’s uniform still dripping from his newly discovered relationship with the fountain.

Rodric leaned against a nearby tree smoking his pipe and watched, considering what else he could try. When he dismissed the soldier that afternoon, he told him to report to the front gate of the Tower grounds an hour before dawn the next day.

OOC: Rodric is going to make him walk around the top of the wall around the Tower grounds…all day. Feel free to ad lib your way through it? *lol*