Hunted By The End; [Attn: Durent Antian]

[Sean]

“A fool is any man who doesn’t think he’s a fool.” Valadin Manelle

His horse saddled and his packs set, Valadin waited at the edge of the Hama Valon limits. Most villagers were turning in as evening approached making his choice to wait alongside the newly broken stallion more conspicuous to those who passed by. I wonder what’s keepin’ Asha’man Durent. He said t’meet at Low. Even skipped supper for this, he thought, keeping a tight hold of the horse’s reins.

Stable master Ranen had named the creature Wildheart and it wasn’t hard to see why. Three or four hands across the chest and easily triple that height-wise, the black coated stallion had no use for restraint as it was used to physical prowess seeing that it dominated those around it in the past. Only recently broken in by the Tower’s handlers, much of its fire still remained though fortunately it yielded to harsh command when the time came for such things. Rubbing the large sides and feeling the evident power beneath the summer coat made Valadin eager to be astride Wildheart, giving free rein for the horse to carry them as fast it could manage. He’d always loved horses, but until the Tower he’d never been given the opportunity to ride them.

Now horses and riding were passions of his.

When his hand ran over the sword jutting out from the pack of things strapped to the mount, Val wondered what sort of business he’d been invited to join. Asha’man Durent had been hard to get in touch with in recent months and after the Green Ajah dinner there had been little of the man seen in the time since. Naturally Val was delighted to hear from the man he’d quickly came to respect, but he suspected that a calm ride through the valley wasn’t the reason for their excursion. Dunt matter. Got me sword an’ goin’ with Master Durent means I’ll have an experienced Asha’man with me. Nothin’ we can’t handle together, he told himself as his heart raced at the prospect of having to fight.

Clopping hooves on the dirt path leading away from the village drew Val’s head up where he saw Durent accompanied by a small unit of mountain guard men. At their waists were Tower-issue short-swords and they were all garbed in jerkins, greaves, and helms. The mounts they led in the Asha’man’s wake were creatures of cool confidence—a stark contrast to Wildheart who snorted threateningly with ears pressed flat against his head at the approach of the others. Taking a fistful of mane in a firm clench quieted the creature. Val had learned the technique from Ranen awhile back and it’d worked wonders for unruly horses.

“Ho, there!” he called out as the guard approached, their expressions serious as they immediately surrounded Valadin and Durent in a circular formation. Five men plus Val and Durent; a contingent of seven. “W-well met, Ash’man,” Val greeted nervously with a salute, the watching eyes making him wither.

“Ho, there Dedicated. Good t’see yer doin’ well!” one of the men greeted before Asha’man Durent could speak, his stone hard look softening into a familiar face.

Val responded in kind, nodding his head and clasping the other man’s forearm briefly. Noting that even Durent was fitted for possible, Val was felt fortune that he’d worn his comfortable cowhide breeches and the thick hide jerkin allowed breeze to flow through when needed, but he had padding in the fibers that could soften a blow from a club—provided it wasn’t swung by a Trolloc. The rest of his gear was stuffed into the traveling packs; Durent’s instructions had spoken of a week-long stay from the Tower. Val, never one to embrace the trials of hunger, had even packed dried strips of beef to gnaw on during the slow parts of their journey. His stomach growled in protest of a skipped meal. “What’s all this then?” he finally asked when the others said nothing.

It was the officer he greeted, but whose name he’d forgotten that spoke, “Just a routine check on a rumor ‘bout bandits in the valleys. Ain’t nothin’ to take too seriously knowin’ the nervous minds o’ people nowadays.”

With that the men moved out towards the open Westlands beyond the village, likely to scout the path they would travel before the sun completely set leaving them all in utter darkness. Already the mountain range’s shadow stretched ominously over the valley. A week away from the Tower no longer seemed like a fine reprieve from the monotony of his studies and duties; even if it was spent with Durent Antian.

It was then that Val realized the men had left for another reason: to give the channelers opportunity to break words before the trip.

“Asha’man?” Val questioned. Something was obviously wrong.

OOC: I set tidbits of the story’s background in place. If it gives you any ideas run with it. Otherwise we could go with the uneventful travels and bonding that occurs between kindred spirits on a voyage.

[Trent]

Durent walked the paths from his quarters, carrying a supply pack with him. He was dressed in his typical combat-ready travel gear. He was wearing black and green leather that was designed to look fashionable and passable as everyday traveling gear for a well-to-do man in addition to serving as leather armor. It allowed him the freedom of movement required to engage in unarmed combat and acrobatics, his fighting style of choice. The only metal armaments he wore, that were also partially disguised, were the greaves and gauntlets that Caden had gifted to him so many years ago to aid his unarmed combat against armed opponents. He had promised Caden he would earn the heron-mark to be put on them someday, a promise he had yet to fulfill.

In his many efforts to reach out and reestablish contacts since his return, he had struck up a friendship with the Captain of the Guard for Hama Valon, the city's head of law enforcement. Durent had received a missive from the man today asking for Durent to take some men and look into reports of bandits in the mountains around the city that were harassing supply, trade, and travel. Eager to do something active and to further ingratiate himself with the Captain, Durent had almost immediately started planning the expedition that morning. He requested and received permission to take a small contingent of the Tower Guard with him and combined this with a request from Valadin Manelle, who wanted some further interactions with Green Ajah business.

Now, strictly speaking, the Green Ajah are not law enforcement, and Durent has no illusions otherwise, but it was close enough to their wheelhouse to make sense to assume the mission and not have any members of other Ajahs feeling like their toes have been stepped on. Except possibly a Blue or two... Durent suppressed a grin at that thought and continued making his way toward the stables to fetch his horse and meet the men he'd be taking with him. Wanting to take some time to brief just the Guard, Durent had instructed Valadin to meet him near the city limits of Hama Valon, outside of the Tower.

Durent was handed the reigns of his horse, Stormfront, by a stablehand and took a few moments to check over the saddle, fittings and the overall condition of the horse. She was a beautiful, large, grey and white warhorse, larger than most traveling horses. She was bred and trained to withstand combat situations or bad weather. Together they'd seen a few scrapes over the years and had served with him at The Citadel. He patted her affectionately and smiled when she huffed at him, seemingly in annoyance at not being taken out enough lately, which was true. "Don't worry old girl, you're getting a nice long trip today."

After briefing the Guard on their mission and search, Durent rode out, leading the group of five men out of the Tower grounds. A short ride later they arrived where Valadin was waiting for them. Durent saw the Dedicated, noting the growth the young man seemed to have gained in the time since their first meeting the gardens. Durent remained silent at first, gauging Valadin's reaction and composure as he interacted with one of the Guard. Durent also took note of the large black stallion, who looked very young and from what Durent could tell skittish and recently broken. It was a powerful warhorse, and he respected the Dedicated for seeming at ease in handling it.

Durent nodded to Valadin in greeting as the Guard rode ahead to let the two of them speak. "Dedicated Valadin, I appreciate your timely arrival and your obvious preparation. That is a good sign. One of the hallmarks of our Ajah that many overlook is that of preparation. We are to prepare the world for the Last Battle, but let that filter down to you being prepared at all times."

Pausing to look over their trail and nudging his horse forward to keep pace twenty feet or so behind the Guard, Durent continued. "You might have sensed my apprehension at this mission requested of us. Even with the growth of Hama Valon and the Tower's established presence, we still do get a fair number of bandits and misfits, but this one is showing signs of sticking around longer than usual and some level of organization. Certainly you've heard rumors of some of their activity even here in the Tower. Tell me, how would you proceed with our mission if it was yours?"

[Sean]

“Trust is more important than fear.”

Val had been about to point that he didn’t understand the question, but held his tongue. Asha’man Durent’s eyes held a seriousness in them that had been absent in their last meeting; this mission wasn’t just about capturing bandits.

He’s testin’ me an’ tryin’ to teach me at the same time. Val gathered.

This knowledge would have inspired fear little more than a year ago. The Soldier who’d come to the Grey Tower knowing nothing save for plants and horses would’ve quietly endured the Asha’man’s glare until the man finally gave up on him. Not this Valadin. Not when he knew there were things expected of him…people that counted him.

An image of a blond-haired Sister with a blue shawl wrapped about her shoulders stared coldly into the depths of his heart. Those piercing eyes always gave him chills, yet at the same time somehow set his blood aflame when the one they belonged to was near.

Returning to himself Val cocked his head thoughtfully a moment before answering. “A small unit’d be best to scout them out first to get an idea o’ where they’re holed up an if we find ‘em how strong their ranks are,” he began trying to recall what he could from his military history studies. “If possible we surprise ‘em, crushin’ ‘em with all our might an’ give ‘em no chance to retaliate much like how the Aiel took Cairhien unawares an’ ended up marchin’ straight into the capital. Didn’t take much longer to defeat the Cairhienin forces after that.”

Uncertain if his answer was correct, Val turned and stared out towards the company of mountain guard already heading into the fading daylight. Nerves coursed through him in a constant river of doubt and confusion. He was a Dedicated; what did he know of strategy or command? What was strategy to the chaos of battle where an errant sword could just as easily take a man’s life as a skilled one?

He was about to voice these concerns when something emerged from an unseen corner of his being, Aren’t you curious to know what you’re capable of?

The words cut the worries down before they could leave his tongue and his expression hardened as he looked directly into Asha’man Durent’s eyes. It was true. Fear, uncertainty, and other emotions clouded his thoughts, but among those things was excitement—he’d get to face real combat. It’s jus that I’ll get to finally serve the Light, he lied to himself while saluting his superior.

“Ready when you are, Asha’man,” he calmly stated, the last vestiges of weaknesses burned from his bearing. He was hardened to his purpose.

[Trent]

Durent nodded in acceptance of the Dedicated's words. Proud that the younger man had held his own under Durent's question. There were Asha'man who rarely met Durent's eyes because of his experience that they contained. This man has mettle, Durent noted to himself. Good. Durent nodded to the Guard and nudged Stormfront forward. Two of the Tower Guard took up position ahead of them, but most trailed behind.

They rode in silence for a little while, Durent enjoying the wind on his face and just the joy of being out of the Tower. There was once a time when he lived on the road, sleeping under the stars and hunting for his own food. While he had definitely become accustomed to Tower life, and the life of an Asha'man, he still found great peace and joy in traveling. He looked over at Valadin, trying to see if the man's expression would betray his thoughts.

"Tell me, Dedicated, how are your studies faring? You were raised at a good pace, do you see yourself soon donning the cord?"

[Sean]

Silence was ever the enemy of the impatient mind. The small traveled with all the severity of men on a mission, none moreso than Asha'man Durent. Valadin stole passing glances at the Green, but mostly his eyes ran over the endless fields of windswept grass. A boyhood longing nearly unseated the young Dedicated as thoughts of racing through the meadows occupied his thoughts. It was the heavy baritone of Durent that pulled Val's thoughts back to the present.

Asha'man Durent. That'll get ya a trip to Master Elonid's study.

Turning his head he found the Asha'man's eyes fixed intensely upon him. “Seems there's always some new Weave I'm expected to know fer this or another...an' that's after tendin' to the errands the Master of Soldiers has been givin' me late," he chuckled weakly. A jab through the hip was a reminder that his mount wasn't completely ruly. “Uh...not that it's goin' poorly...ser."

Though confidence had come with being Raised, there was something unnerving about talking to a man centuries old. Valadin, as he had during their first meeting, wondered what such ancient eyes could see after being blessed with Saidin's gifts all that time.

“As fer the...my Ajah, I've chosen the Green."

The statement was a definitive explanation that was said while looking the older man fully in the eyes. No one would question his resolve...not in this.

[Trent]

The countryside went by as they spoke, the sun slowly sinking into the horizon.

Durent nodded in appreciation for the man's resolve. He liked that, and it was something the Green Ajah and the Tower would need in the coming years. Durent was certain of that. "Your learning will get easier, especially as you begin to specialize your training and your purpose becomes clearer as to what you will do as an Asha'man. What is your proficiency with Battle Weaves? Also what martial combat training, if any, are you pursuing?"

Durent knew some of it by reputation and asking around, but he wanted to hear the young man's self-appraisal. They were going into a possible combat situation, he wanted the lad to be ready, and stay safe of course.

While listening to the Dedicated answer, he saw a spot towards the horizon that would make a good campsite for the evening. He motioned one of the Guard over and informed him of his plans. The man saluted, bringing his fist to his chest, and rode to the front of the company to pass on the orders.

[Sean]

Watching Durent Asha’man casually command the men was inspiring. In many ways Valadin had admired the man from afar since their first meeting, but seeing act with the same kind of reverence was…overwhelming. As what would be the camping ground was set up it was clear the patrolmen either knew the Green personally or that the reputation of him had quelled them into obedience without their ever laying eyes on him. Either possibility brought questions as to how one’s mere presence was enough to motivate or terrify a man as the sun’s glory faded, dusting the land in the dying blaze of sundown.

"Battle Weaves 'ave become my choice o' study an' I've taken up the sword," Valadin answered soundly as they came upon the resting spot for the night. "I can serve as I am now, but t'aint 'nough. Need to become stronger...better. This much I know."

Val had seen the layout of patrol camps in many books. Traditionally the officers were placed at its center to provide defense of the leadership in times of peril whereas other arrangements lacked any distinct organization as the men lay about knowing that when the time arose they would all stand to defend one another’s back. This camp was the former.

A tight ring of tents were pitched and where there was no tent, a bedroll lay. Already gear was being taken out to be treated and horses tethered to stakes firmly wedged in the ground. Like a small city the camp came to life and when night fell everything was in order. Marveling at it all Val tried his best to avoid being a hindrance, keeping mostly to the tent provided for him. It lay in the space between the outer ring comprised of the guard and the lone tent raised for the Asha’man. Unsure of whether to take his position as a slight, he decided the best way to pass the time was tending to his horse. The journey hadn’t been long, but one could never take too much care with his mount.

It was in the middle of stroking his horse’s coat that a man, rather young despite the scar that cut through his chin, gave notice that Durent had requested that Val join him for dinner. More tests likely, Val thought as he nodded his acceptance. The unexpected engagement made rushing to complete the ritual of checking each hoof as well as examining the horse’s joints for any sprains nerve-racking for both beast and man. Finally giving over on his fussing, Val prepared for the meal. Having brought nothing else aside from the dark Asha’man coat he made his way to the center of the cozy camp. At both ends of the camp stood a man at watch, back erect and alert eyes sweeping the evening for any signs of intrusion. Both wore their short sword with the easiness of men who knew their business. Even those who were not assigned on duty tasks lounged with the wary readiness of soldiers ready for combat whenever time came for it.

No one barred the path to the Asha’man’s tent. As if the Asha’man would need ta be watched over like a helpless babe. Inside the accommodations were the same severe furnishings of any officer’s tent if a bit more spacious. Valadin didn’t enter immediately instead remaining in the opening until he was called forth, “Ya summoned, Asha’man?” he called without a waver in his voice. Some small pride was taken from that.

OOC: Sorry if I moved to fast, but I just thought that this was an experience that would benefit Val at this stage; the setting up of a military camp and such. I'll let you take lead from here though as I don't recall what the story was...though I believe it was bandits? Either way, it's all yours.

[Trent]

As was customary, for Durent, the tent was mostly sparse. He had no need for extravagant comfort on a mission like this, as it weighed down the horses. He'd brought a map of the area and had it strung up in his tent with notations on it from the information he'd been given by Tower scouts, eyes-n-ears, and other sources about the bandit camp and its possible locations, and the movement of the bandits before and after raids. Based on known geography, he'd narrowed it down to a small valley where they would likely have set up a makeshift camp. They seemed to be doing well for themselves up to this point, probably settling in nice and comfortably, robbing caravans and Hama Valon itself, and hadn't yet had a response from the Tower. Well, that would change the following day.

When Valadin entered, Durent looked over at the man's greeting. "Ah good, come in, Valadin. I wanted to go over my plans for tomorrow and get your input." Durent showed Valadin the map and explained the various notations and markings, just in case Valadin hadn't yet learned what they all meant. Each commander had their own style or variation of notations, and Durent had learned his from Caden Ives, former Master of Training for the Tower, and good friend.

"We should be at their camp in the early afternoon tomorrow. I plan to stake out their armaments and then attack as the light begins to fade, and have them in custody by nightfall. I intend to take as many alive as possible. Our role, as channelers, will be two-fold. We should protect the Tower Guard, and also use weaves to incapacitate and restrain the bandits. These men are not Shadowspawn and thus we are bound by the oaths, myself already and you by Dedication, to not kill them. Also, I see no reason for bloodshed. I want these men tried by the laws of Hama Valon, the laws of the people they have been abusing. What are your thoughts?"

[Sean]

The Asha’man’s words were noble in both intent and purpose. Valadin had met a few channelers who did not share such sentiments of justice and responsibility to protect life, but there none that he’d come across that were quite like Asha’man Durent. It may have been the product of living for more than a century that gave the man the air of a storybook champion.

“Shan’t be too much trouble. Likely they break quickly if we hit ‘em hard in the right place,” Val agreed as his attention was drawn to the maps hanging at the side of the tent.

Before coming to the Grey Tower, education had not been one of Valadin Manelle’s strong points. With no father or mother to enforce the need for learning he’d managed on what words people taught him out of charity…or deceit. Even after joining the ranks of Soldiers studies were the hardest part of time within the stone confines of his new home. Slowly and with a great amount of time spent military topics began to interest him. Something about the strategy that lay behind maneuverings and positioning was entrancing. So it was now as Durent’s words mixed with the lay of the land before him.

Quickly deciphering the lines and scrawling made upon the drawing he laid a finger upon a small valley where most of the notes were concentrated. “Ya figure they’re in this valley, somewhere west o’ here,” Val said more to himself than the other man. “They’ll ‘ave dug in deep if’n they had any sense. Not much in the way of vantage point less they got sentries fixed atop the hills…but if we can take those out…they’d never know they were defeated til we clamped iron on ‘em!”

Blinking as the reality of whose tent he stood in set in and Valadin bowed deeply, “Forgive me, Asha’man. My thoughts…sometimes they…they jus’ run ‘way from me. What would ya ‘ave o’ me, tomorrow?”

Soldiers were expected to know their place at all times—that much was clear to any man who aspired to march or lead a group of men into battle. To forget that cardinal rule was to endanger those around you and who relied on you. Valadin only hoped that Durent would see his outburst as zeal rather than indications of insubordination. Ox-brain. This man is o’ the Green an’ yer makin’ a right fool o’ yerself. Better ya stay millin’ ‘bout with the rest o’ them boys. Maybe ya’ll get it right when yer a hundred too, Val berated himself, but did not rise.

[Trent]

The dedicated's responses were good. Impulsive, but sound. Durent was impressed. "No forgiveness needed, Dedicated. I appreciate your candor and voicing your ideas. Too many ignore the advice of the learning ranks for they assume none of them could have any insight they themselves had not already thought up. I find that a fresh pair of eyes can often give me ideas I hadn't thought of before.

"As for tomorrow, I want you near me, assisting in neutralizing the bandits. As many as we can without lethal force, and only then if you have no choice but to defend yourself, as the Oaths will one day bind you. Now, for the specifics..." The two of them worked over a few battle plans and came up with a solid plan of attack, using mostly Valadin's suggestions. Durent would step in only when he felt it was needed, which was not often. They informed the members of the guard of their plan, and then went down for the night.

Durent found sleep difficult as he often did lately. Too many memories haunting his dreams. Eventually exhaustion overtook him, forcing his brain to quiet. When he woke, he joined the others in preparing, the sun was not yet rising. They were to get a jump on the camp’s sentries, and take them out as quietly as possible. They would be going on foot with the advance team to take out those sentries, and then moving in on the rest of the camp.

When they were at their final staging location, in sight of the first sentry group, Durent turned to Valadin, speaking quietly, but loud enough for their group to hear. “Dedicated Valadin, you’re in charge. Lead us in.”