Warriors Born In The Mountains [Attn: Herarn]

[Sean]

Valadin Manelle Nighttime in the hills surrounding Hama Valon…

“Dedicated, we likely won’t be able to see nuthin’ until the sun come up,” Kaf said gruffly, Tairen accent obvious with the fear trickling into his voice.

Malorn shifted nervously, but blessedly kept his mouth shut. The Soldier was usually annoying in his haughty pride of being born into a noble family. Most had thought that was the worst of his attitude—hearing him whine endlessly had nearly forced Valadin to knock him unconscious and leave him for Herarn to find.

In all the four men Valadin, Malorn, Kaf, and Dentos made a motley group. Covered in grime and smelling like sweat mixed with ash, exhaustion weighed down their bones as they hunkered down to catch their breaths. Being the only Dedicated in the group they looked to Val for leadership, but griped about every decision he made. More often than not they refused to heed his instructions…it had cost them.

Dentos lay nearby quieting his pained groans behind clenched teeth. The tow-headed Soldier had been blasted by his own Weave and nearly lost his left leg for his foolishness. As things were, the limb was a charred mess of ruined flesh and burnt muscle. Kaf could’ve Healed the mess somewhat, but the channeling would give away their position and there would be no facing Herarn’s unit without a plan.

Guilt tried to break through the Void as Valadin considered what the unit’s next move should be. If you don’t hurry that boy’ll be crippled fer the rest o’ his life jus’ cause you wanted to save yer own hide… Though he pushed the thought away, he knew that the slow realization that they could die out here in the shadows of the mountain range was quickly throwing the group in despair. Worse was that he couldn’t blame them.

Mother’s milk in a cup! What sorta bloody trainin’ does Master Elonid think he’s givin’ us?! We’ll die out here…I’ll…I’ll never see Nykk again…

“Burn it all!” he snapped, his fist beating impotently against the rising dome of earth that hid them temporarily from sight.

“Dedicated…” Kaf warned and a chill ran up Val’s spine. Someone was close…
Two days ago… Master Elonid paced the room with a lightness that belied his size. The trappings of his rank within the Tower were evident in the opulence of the office. Carpets from Arad Doman with depictions of a traveling caravan spread elegantly across the floor making the ground feel like a cloud had settled beneath everyone’s feet. Tapestries from unknown parts of the world hung along the walls and accentuated the tiny figurines which appeared with no pattern at corner of the room. The air was thick with perfume and the stale after-scent of a lunch had recently.

Valadin made a concerted effort not to glance towards the tall Aielman seated beside him. All he knew was that they were both Dedicated and had been summoned without a reason given to the interim Master of Soldiers’ study.

When they’d gotten there they found the portly man standing in front of his desk. An impatient scowl darkened his features as he barked at the Dedicated to sit down. Once seated they were subject to long moments of being ignored while the Asha’man circled them menacingly. Though slightly tanned from living at the foot of the Shining Walls in southlands, dots of red touched Master Elonid’s fleshly jowls. Val was content with sitting in silence; it was better than risking the wrath of their betters. If he kept getting into trouble there’d never be any time to spend with Nykkolaia Sedai.

“Dedicated…” the Master of Soldiers finally said, snapping Val out of his revere. Now standing before them Soti Elonid was not as imposing as most other members of the Green Ajah. Where there was a discernible physical presence about the Green members, the Tar Valon native, was flabby and had a studious look about him. His complexion was uneven despite the smoothness that came with channeling the One Power for years. “…I’ve called you here because I’m tired…do you hear? Tired!”

Back to the Dedicated seated before his desk, the Master of Soldiers sighed before turning around. Now a dangerous smile pulled at loose hanging skin around his eyes, “Do you want to know what tired of?” Elonid asked. Val remained silent, choosing to let the other man dare to answer. “I’m tired of raising such soft recruits. Most of the Tower hasn’t seen a battlefield in over a decade. I ask you, how can we be ready for the Last Battle like that?”

The question was barely in the air a few heartbeats when the answer came: “We’re not ready! If the Dragon fails, we’ll all die! All of us! You! You! Me! Everyone!”

Again Elonid was pacing the room, moving out of sight of both Val and the Aielman. “I won’t relinquish my hold of this life because the Grey Tower chooses to be soft! I won’t!”

Suddenly the Master of Soldiers was in the Aiel Dedicated’s face. Even seated the outrageously tall man looked down on the standing Master Elonid. “I heard you were from the Black Tower Dedicated Herarn. Haven’t you felt your edge dulling because of all this coddling? When we were of the Black Tower men died in droves and the weak were culled daily. Only the strongest were left: that’s what this Tower needs! Strength!”

Believing himself exempt from the tirade’s focus Val leaned slight back into his chair, “And you, Dedicated Manelle! Of all the Grey Tower’s recruits, you’ve studied Battle Weaves a good deal. For what? To pretend to prepare for battle?!”

Val blinked at the man’s naked rage. There was nothing for it, but to accept whatever punishment was passed on him. There needn’t be a reason when it came to consequences; all that could be done was to see it through.

“I’ll re-make the Grey Tower…starting with you two. Gather three men of your choosing. A special training has been decided for you…”
Nighttime in the hills surrounding Hama Valon... Taking in the cutting cold night air, Valadin reflected on their current predicament. When Dedicated Herarn and he had come with their men they found the Master of Soldiers waiting for them. Without preamble it was explained that the two groups were to attempt to subdue, shield, and capture all the members of the other unit. One of Valadin’s Soldiers had been foolish enough to pose the question of whether such training exercises were allowed Herarn’s unit was given a head start to position themselves before the sun reached its zenith. Valadin’s group ventured into the numerous hills late in the afternoon without any idea where their enemies might be.

Bloody Malorn… he swore in his head. He signaled to Kaf and the others to remain still no matter what happened. He was the strongest in the One Power of the group and his knowledge of Battle Weaves was the best among the Dedicated—so he’d been told. It was actual combat experience that he lacked, well, that and tactical experience.

Dedicated Herarn seemed as familiar with battle as a bird was in flight. Unsurprisingly the Aielman had perfect command of his comrades…that plus the advantage of first position made the situation dire for Val’s men. Maybe jus’ surrender. They’ve already got Dentos down…

OOC: Alright, tried to set your idea up as best as possible. Let me know if I need to edit anything. A bit crazy and bloodthirsty, but hell I imagine desperate times, desperate measures fits the mood here. You can choose any number as long as it's no more than four including Herarn. Figured that'd be enough NPC's to command/position. Also no weapons.

[Bruce]

Herarn lay on a ledge overlooking Valadin and his group. He shook his head. Maybe with the exception of Valadin himself, the entire unit just needed to be flogged. Blatant disregard for order. Failure to obey orders given by a ranking superior officer. Channeling without permission.

The list was about as long as he was tall and this was only night one. His men were all former Black Tower. They had been under his command when they had been transferred to the Grey Tower. Even the weakest member of that unit had more discipline than a majority of Valadin’s unit. Then again, even the Black Tower didn’t thrust unprepared Soldier’s onto the battlefield. It was a waste of resources to let them get killed like that.

Unlike Valadin’s group, Herarn and his team had immediately split up. The reasoning had been simple, one man might get caught but that still meant the game was a foot. If the entire team got caught, the game was over. And Herarn played to win. He was hard, much harder than the Master of Soldiers could ever consider. It was just that he was hard on himself in everything. He accepted nothing less than perfection.

Valadin was supposed to be one of the best Battle Weavers among the Dedicated. Truth was he might be the only real competition Herarn had for that. But Herarn had the problem that Earth was one of his weaker elements which meant using a great many of the weaves classified as ‘Battle Weaves’ were difficult for him. He was proficient in all of them to the point of redundancy. He was capable of channeling all of them practically blindfolded before Valadin had even taken his Introduction to Channeling Class.

Unlike Valadin and his group, Herarn and his team had been channeling the whole exercise. Every one of them careful to invert their weaves so no one could sense the weaving. The fact that Dentos had nearly blown his leg off had told half the mountain range where the hell they were within seconds. Faster than that if you were a channeler sensing for loose weaving.

Herarn noticed Karn moving along the opposing ridgeline only because Herarn’s back was to the sun or he’d never had noticed. The man was former Shienaran Borderguard and could hide among the rocks as well as nearly anyone Dedicated or lower. The only reason he had been sent to the Grey Tower with him had been because his strength in the Power was below average. His attempt at Desertion hadn’t really been Desertion persay, it had been an attempt to return to the Black Tower.

But several months training had brought Karn to a plateau higher than he’d ever been at with the Black Tower.

Addric was below taking advantage of the earthen dome that one of them had erected over the team. Addric, unsurprisingly, was one of the strongest in Herarn’s command when it came to Fire and Earth. Poul appeared from behind a camouflage weave and looked to Herarn. They had to end this game now. Not because it needed too, but because a life hung in the balance.

Herarn nodded.

The blitz that occurred next would have done any of the Black Tower training staff proud.

Addric wove together Air and Earth, turning the earthen barrier to fine sand even as Herarn used pure Air to blast it away. Even as the sand was moving away, Poul darted in amongst their number and leveled a haymaker against Valadin’s jaw intent on punching it clean off his head. They had to stun or render him unconscious for the rest of the plan to work.

Even as Poul went to punch Valadin’s lights out. Herarn and the rest of his team laid out a dome of Shielding Spirit over the group. Poul had recognized he’d be the potential sacrificial lamb from the outset when they had worked out their plan.

Two days earlier…

Herarn stood in absolute silence. The interim Master of Soldiers was a pompous windbag and a hypocrite. He allowed himself the finer luxuries and allowing his body to gain more than ample padding…. At least to Herarn’s point of view. All while preaching about Raising a bunch of softies.

Herarn nearly broke the man’s jaw for even implying that he was losing his edge. But he restrained himself… barely. The truth, at least to Herarn, was that there were many different forms of strength. He had witnessed a Novice come to the Grey Tower fresh off her mother’s apron strings box the ears of a Dedicated for being rude and insensitive to another Novice.

He had seen Sea Folk Novices and Soldiers come to the Grey Tower and that took tremendous strength. To leave behind their precious ships and oceans.

He took the tirade in stride. Word would get out and eventually travel up the chain to the M’Hael and/or the Amyrlin Seat about his viewpoint and things would resolve themselves accordingly.

Current….

Herarn allowed Addric to lower him to the ground from the ledge on flows of Air, as the remainder of his team stood prepared to take more physical matters to end this. He hoped that he didn’t have too. His plan had been simple and had relied more on speed, surprise, and fear to be effective. With one injured and out of it already, the other two were pretty much scared stiff, leaving Valadin as the only real threat.

OOC: Left it up to you to decide if Poul caught Valadin by surprise. Since he came from the opposite direction of the weave that affected the dome. If you want to play it out, Poul is a bit of a brawler and not only strong as an ox, he’s about as tough as one too.)

[Sean]

Kaf's skin took on a sickly pallor noticeable even in the moonlight. At the center of two rising hills Val's men were cornered. Dentos whimpered, drawing a sharp look to Malorn. It had been the arrogant Soldier's job to keep his comrade quiet and ready to move, but when Val looked to them they both stared at...

“Mal! Take Dentos and move!" Val barked just as husky fellow dropped down from above and started at Valadin. Overhead the menacing feel of Saidin being drawn brought a cold sweat to Val's brow.

They'd been under the enemy's watch the entire time.

Embracing the Void was the only thing that kept his wits from taking flight. Like spring water peace trickled through his veins and combat's famaliar beat drummed in his ears. Slipping beneath the hasty punch, Val rolled away and rose to his feet just in time to see Kaf throwing himself bodily at the large assailant. He shoulda waited, Val fumed, but pushed the anger aside as the sweetness of Saidin filled him with furious power. While Kaf and the other man rolled in the dirt, Val shattered the domed Shield with a spike of Fire and Spirit cutting the Weave easily in midair. The recoil would stun the channeler for only a second, but time was precious in the tides of battle.

No more fear and uncertainty remained. Now only Saidin and the Song whsipered in his ears. Two on one side an' another at my back. Kaf lost the advantage as a shower of sand descended into the valley blinding everyone. The confusion granted Val just enough time. This...this is my duty too...right?

The concern didn't have time to take root as twin Flows of Fire and Air came together. The limits of his ability took immediate effect as twin forks of lightening blasted the hill ridges where he'd sensed the menacing auras of Saidin. He didn't hear the explosion that nearly tore both hilltops in two; the blasts had left naught, but a shrill ringing in his ears. It was the violent shaking of the earth beneath him that gave a crude estimation of the destruction that had been wrought. Focus! They're bloody countin' on ya! Dentos could die!

That steadied him.

“Kaf! To me!" Val bellowed, throat hoarse and his limbs suddenly feeling weighted with stones.

As the Soldier scrambled to his side with shouts of concern at his condition Valadin hoped that in listening to the Saidin's siren call he hadn't needlessly killed several of his brothers. When the Void faded and the Battle Song fell silent nausea set in. Kaf was shouting something at him as the spray of sand and debris began slow.

It took moments for the words to materialize from the incessant ringing in his ears, “....should we take the man hostage?!" Kaf screamed, face slick with grime, sweat, and blood.

The large man who'd first attacked staggered towards them on shaky feet. Of course...the flash...he's likely half blind and deaf... Quickly studying Kaf, Val realized the Soldier wasn't doing much better than the enemy; the man was supporting most of his weight by clenching Val. “No," Val answered simply.

This time there was no back talk as they fled towards Lake Somal. Hopefully Malorn and Dentos would be there. Light...the smell of singed flesh was something out a nightmare. Val sicked up twice before they were out of sight of the burning hills.