Shift 1: Commandos and Ravagers

[Ashfalcon]

"I am Birno," said the Brown, leaving his ostensible Warders behind him as he approached the circle of Aes Sedai and Asha'man. "Asha'man of the Brown Ajah. I am here to chronicle the actions of the Tower, and make whatever observations I can of this False Dragon. I defer to any decisions you might make; I merely wish to bear witness to them, and record them for our history."

Behind them, the Gaidin leaned forward and spoke softly to the two Drin. "Listen well. When you are bonded, you will need to know your Channeler's mind as well as their orders. That we are not in danger now does not excuse any of us from remaining alert."

"Yes, Master Warder," said Safaire, and Illa nodded. She'd known Birno long enough to be able to predict him, but direct advice from a proper Warder would be foolish to ignore. The man stepped back, looked over their armor and equipment, and nodded to himself; Illa did her best to ignore him and pay attention to the Channelers, but the implied approval felt good.

She waited with Birno as he fell silent, watching for the Red Ajah to signal their direction.

[Dan]

Cold grey eyes regarded the younger folk before him, dry lips still and silent. Their words stirred feelings in his heavy heart, the tones in their voices, the life in their eyes. The old man was taking care to listen, he tool care to watch, and most importantly, he knew to wait. In his mind, he visualized that old sword of his, hanging above his hearth. A swordsman knew when to strike, and when to wait, and reposte.

We're his past loves to ask him, he'd be hard pressed to deny affection for this younger generation. The faces of the young replacing the faces of those lost to the wheel. He'd support these children, it was his duty, after all. Different Ajah's, open with each other. Asha'man and Aes Sedai treating gaidin and gaidar with the respect entitled to them. He'd smile, but he was sure some Cairhienen out there would get suspicious about something or other.

Much like the Warder had done, the Asha'man looked over their equipment, with Saidin itself. Like very few in Hama Valon's history, he had certain specialized talents with the earth weaves. There were many things he could no longer do, age of the mind took it's toll eventually, after all. But if you do weave certain threads enough, they became an integral part of your experience as a channeller. But there was one thing, amongst a very limited skillset, he could still see, and feel, and experience the very ores of the weapons and armor present. Delving the weapons, analyzing their cores.

The Asha'man nodded in satisfaction after his investigation. Hama Valon does itself proud,i he thought to himself as he reflected on the maintenance the equipment had clearly benefited from. Old habits died hard, it was a habit of his old self to put extra consideration in equipment maintenance, he could let the younger folk figure things out, if they need him, well, that's a line they will all cross when they get there.

[Chris]

Nate looked at the other Non-Reds with polite interest. It would be hypocritical of him to deny any of them a space at the Red table - nor did it feel like his place, really - but at the same time, if he was being invited to give his opinion, then give it he would.

There was something about the older man who neutrally dodged around the actual name giving - any channeller worth their salt knew how to omit a simple truth, not that Nate had any reason to do so in his Non-Oathsworn state - that tickled the back of Nate's mind. Sadly, various instances of being hit in the head, having plenty of Compulsion, and whatever the heck transpired in Viadulo, had left sufficient plot-relevant holes in his head that meant he didn't make the connection with that painting in the Blue quarters, or the name he may have scanned across a history book at some point. Still, that slight unease of being a wilful youth faced with age and experience sat on him a little bit. Maybe it made him project his voice a little more, puff his chest out a bit as if he didn't already take up considerable space. Maybe it was all far more internal than any of the above, but it was still there.

The nerdy Brown was neither here nor there with his retinue. Heck, having some observers and recorders might actually be pretty cool, having people to write down his deeds and accolades.

"Alright," here the Blue looked around and, in a fit of pique, plucked out a scrip of paper and pencil from the bag of one of the other channellers without asking. He idly and thoughtlessly made a small table of cloudy Air, tied it off, and set the paper down. His right hand pinned the curled edges down as he scrawled with his left; after a moment of concentration (and dramatically raking his hair back from the paper a few times as he hunched over) Nate had presented a rough, but not entirely inaccurate map of Tar Valon as he remembered it. "Soooo," he said, now brandishing the pencil like a pointer in a hand marked with graphite along the side, "reports say that this is probably the building that's being guarded. Then over here... across the way... is where this False Dragon is. What's the Red's MO? Maintaining order and preventing the misuse of the Power? I'd say they're prime targets. Getting their interest might bring out the False Dragon. I say we split up - have a bunch of Reds handle those guys and while they're distracted, some of us head on in and get this False Dragon!"

This was, unfortunately, not without flaw if rumours of the ter'angreal were to be believed. That was another building marked on his map. One of the NPC Reds pointed it out, so Nate drew an X. "Start there then, break some shit, then storm the castle. It ain't subtle but neither are we." He gave the group a toothy grin, though he reigned himself in and straightened up when he was met with a lot of Reds. "I mean, uhh, that's just my suggestion," he added diplomatically.

[Ashfalcon]

OOC: Since we seem to have run aground a bit, I'm going to throw in a couple of NPCs.

IC:
"A moment, Blue weather-weaver," Kailos cut in before his wife Loisa could lose her temper and turn this from a well-planned capture to an accidental civil war. He could see from the way she stood that she was fuming already. "You will allow that the Red has some small experience with these situations?"

He continued on without waiting for a response. "The map is helpful, and I thank you for it. However, we are not Greens; we do not charge in uninformed and without a plan. This False Dragon is said to be protected by some mysterious ter'angreal, and it would be folly to assault him without knowing more. This is a hunt, and a proper hunter begins by studying the prey."

"Yes," Loisa affirmed. "In addition, we must consider the learning ranks. Some may have been traitors, but I understand that others were simply kidnapped. If we simply move in, we place their lives at risk." She swallowed, then added reluctantly: "We welcome your help, especially if your Talents can help us locate the missing students and evaluate the threat. But a direct assault, at this point? Madness."

[Dan]

Once he had been the First Selector, head of the Blue Ajah. But he had made many a friend in his era, and a few of those had been experts on the production and use of Ter'angreal. And as M'Hael, he had used the position to further educate himself on the matter, not only for the sake of community, but he personally enjoyed the field of study and craft. He himself had made several minor Ter'angreal, things today's students would make with ease during the middle of their studies.

The old Asha'man looked upon the speaker, and said; "child, what else do you know of this Ter'angreal? Much can be surmised of how it works by the way the materials transmute during production. There have been many papers written on the subject, perhaps with a little information,we can better prepare ourselves ahead of time." As the old Asha'man's voice echoed in the air, an arthritic hand reached down out of sheer habit for the hilt of a sword. But in his condition, that was no longer a possibility.

He began to softly whisper to himself, recalling out loud about a sort of protective Ter'angreal former M'Hael Daimenin had created to keep the tower safe, revealed the day Hama Valon had finally been finished. A smile creeped into his expression, the blue fondly remembering the indigo Asha'man. Alric too, another former m'Hael, and brilliant expert on the field. Old colleagues. If he could, he'd shed a tear, to accompany the sad expression on his wisened face.

[Bella]

Andraste listened as much to the words as she took in how people said them, how everyone conducted themselves. Group discussions like this were typically rife with subconsciously-given clues that even the best of them could not entirely conceal. She was sure that others could pick up some things about her as well, but she didn't let that stop her.

In its way, this was a negotiation. She had learned how to do that plenty in her "before times," her life before the Grey Tower. It was a life she would never forget, despite how much this place became one's identity.

"Well, then, we <i>do</i> we know about this ter'angreal?" she posited, choosing now to re-enter the conversation. "According to what the M'hael told us, all we know is that is offers this False Dragon some type of invulnerability. He cannot be targeted directly by Saidin, but we don't know if it blocks Saidar.

"The way it was described as being in the White Tower's lower levels and needing a guard, I would offer the surmise that it is not a small item to be simply carted about in one's pocket. So for those among us with more experience in objects of the One Power, does this strike anyone as familiar?"

This was not her own personal area of expertise, though the Reds did need to have some knowledge of angreal and such because one never knew if the rogue channelers they pursued might have one. Her dark eyes flashed around to each member of their little enclave.

[Ashfalcon]

"I, um, might have something to contribute," Illanova said, and stepped forward. "My left hand is artificial, a ter'angreal. It works as a hand for me, but it also disrupts both Saidin and Saidar. I have been... reluctant... to let anyone study it, or even know about it, but if there's any chance that this other ter'angreal behaves similarly, well..." She swallowed. "I only ask that you don't remove it, or destroy it. Without it, I cannot be an archer, or much of a warder."

One of the reds turned, approached, lifted her hand, and then frowned as she tried to channel. "Where did you get this, child?"

Illa swallowed again. "In the Tower of Ghenjei."

"How...? No, later for that. We must examine it, and I suggest we send for the Indigo to assist us. The Red has its pride, but this is their specialty."

[Dan]

"Stop" the old man's voice called out, a thread of anger giving his tone obvious displeasure. "We will not use authority to lay claim on the sacrifices of others. If the child was brave enough to speak out as she did, we will not betray her trust." There was no hate in the Asha'man's eyes, but the mere thought of making a claim of the child's hand, that was offensive to his ears, and he made zero effort to hide his position.

One of his greatest achievements, amongst his great failures, was helping create the House of Hope. He would not allow the faith of the younger generations be abused, or broken. His commitment as a Blue had been to protect the children who were vulnerable and at risk. Some habits, and lifetime commitments, could not be ignored.

"If one were to ask politely, and made legal assurements signed by the Triumvirate of Hama Valon, I think safe arrangements could be made to study the item, while under the absolute purview of it's owner." The old Blue couldn't help but smile, he had practiced law for a small part of his life, it felt nice using those old muscles again.

[Ashfalcon]

"I would not object to that," Illanova said, forcing herself to speak firmly. The sudden urge to vanish into the crowd in the face of this much gathered authority was nearly overwhelming. "And it is possible that this other Ter'Angreal operates from entirely different principles. Still, if there's any chance..."

"We'll need to do the examination on the way there," one of the Reds observed. "We should already be out there, gathering what information we can." She looked at the elderly Blue -- and how old was elderly, anyway? -- and then said, "But we're agreed that the girl must not be deprived of the item, however much..." And here she raised her voice, speaking to the other Reds. "...some of us might distrust the thing."

"I'll be with Asha'man Birno of the Brown," Illa said, stepping back. She'd put herself forward more than enough for company like this, and it was time to step back and take her place.

Birno nodded approvingly as she rejoined him, and the older Warder said softly, "That was well done."

[Chris]

Once, Nate had a decision to make between which Ajah to select. Like many of the people there, he'd had to consider what was right for him. What suited him best? Going in hard with the Greens, fighting the dramatic fights? Leaning towards the policing of the Reds, righting Power-wrought wrongs?

Ultimately Nate had decided against both of those in favour of the Blue, where he was ostensibly allowed to find some cause and follow it as he so pleased. He had a self-righteous journey of vengeance and bravado, a sense that only grew with time and success. He found not so much in common with the other Blues, their politicking and such being somewhat backwards and restrictive to him. That was one of the reasons he was here now, with the Reds, where... he'd been asked for his thoughts... and then berated for providing them. He did have some experience in these things, even if he wasn't necessarily the most subtle of people, and that little voice reminding him that he was young, and an upstart, and what was he even doing here, was somewhat less of a little voice and more of a "blood rushing to his head so he only hears his heartbeat throbbing in his ears" sort of situation.

So he stood, and fumed, in socially acceptable restrained silence that pursed his lips together but did nothing for the furrow of his brow, the map he'd drawn slowly crinkling in a fist he slowly clenched and unclenched without thought. His left hand returned to the handle of his hammer, a similar white-knuckled experience prevalent there.

Then there was talk about the ter'angreal, and Nate realised, with a sudden rush of clarity not fit for polite company...

... that he did not care.

Not in a rude way. Any other time, seeing a ter'angreal hand and considering the implications of it could be an interesting afternoon spent testing. But in his head, Nate had already decided - Indigo business. He wasn't interested in that. The ter'angreal was important to be stopped, yes, and that seemed to be the way that they were heading with the conversation. That was valid. But hey, maybe the smarmy Reds had a point. They had their expertise, as did the Greens with theirs.

And Nate? He was, he realised, Bluer than ever.

For a while he'd thought about a switch of Ajah. That he was bound by the ties of his commitments as a younger man, serving in a role that didn't suit him. That his previous decisions were made in haste, and the life of a Red or a Green would suit him just fine. He'd lamented on this for a while, and felt uncomfortable in his skin. But no. Somehow, weirdly enough, all this served to remind Nate that actually, he chose the Blue Ajah because he had a way he wanted to do things and he operated on a "ask forgiveness, not permission" basis. It was no better or worse than the very valid conversation happening here; it was simply different. It wasn't Blue. More importantly, it wasn't Nate. And he was, on top of many other things, long enough in the tooth to not be inclined to be dressed down by people in a different Ajah.

The Red mentioned that they should already be out there gathering information. She was correct... regarding the Reds. Nate required neither their approval nor their permission to go and do what he so sorely felt like doing, which just so happened to be finding some bad people and punching them in the nose. Perhaps decorum suggested that the brawny Blue stuck around and went with the group he'd initially tied himself to, but that had never been Nate's strong suit.

"Alright so you guys have fun with the ter'angreal and whatnot," he said with as much cheer as he could muster. Too much cheer, given the situation. His grin was too many teeth, not enough warmth. He released his death grip on the map long enough to pass it on to Andraste, then gave a very shallow bow to the Reds. "I just realised I have somewhere important to be. And if you want to be somewhere important, I'm leaving a Gateway open behind me for exactly ten seconds. See you in Tar Valon!"

He was already turning as he spoke, and he waved an indolent arm goodbye as he moved a couple of steps away. Just far enough to channel enough Saidin to make a suitably large Gateway for himself, one that led to a familiar back street he'd enjoyed his last visit to the city of Tar Valon.

Once, Nate read a boring quote about how hunters who don't observe their prey are prone to becoming prey themselves. It was probably true. However, Nate's solution was, instead, to become a more badass predator.

It was going to be a storm.