The Grey Tower

Posted: **February 8th, 2017, 3:50 pm**

There were many moments these days where Alrim wondered what life would have been like had he not effectively been shipped to the Grey Tower. Shorter, most likely. Would it have been more fun? Probably. There was a form of war going on within him, ancestry against hopelessness. Honour against sloth. He was many years a man but truly had never really decided to grow up, take a stand and follow it through. Differences with both his family and his peers had merely served to drive him further away from the traditional views and activities of the Arafellin male psyche. As he sat in the Yards, wooden sword lathe twirling on its point between his feet, he was thinking for the first time in his life.

Yet thoughts were thoughts and actions were actions, even his fellow Drin - if he could yet see them as that - were taking notice of his less than sterling efforts towards the legendary Gaidin status they all seemed to prize so highly. Sneers, stares and scowls were part of daily routine and though they chafed he resented them more than saw them as spurs for change. He did his chores and the necessary evils of classes, what right had they to judge him for taking what little free time he could for himself?

If he were honest with himself he might accept that he performed tasks somewhat sloppily and without an ecstatic enthusiasm but he had not reached that stage just yet, stuck as he was with resentment and bitterness towards his family and others. Still, in the shade cast by the low wooden wall he was resting upon he could find little care for aught but enjoyment. He closed his eyes and raked his fingers back through his half-braided, half-matted hair and listened to the dull jingle of what bells there still were, a sound from times more free.

The click clack of other lathes blended with the grinding rhythm of his own, still twirling upon the rough floor beneath. Sweat stuck some patches of his far from perfect training uniform to his skin, just enough he hoped to make it seem he was resting from an over-exuberant practise session before leaping back into it once more. He doubted the pretence would last much longer but he was pushing for a few more moments before he would start again with what was expected.

There was, perhaps, some unknown grace period upon joining the Grey Tower that was existent but unspoken. A settling in period where life was hard but adjustments were known to be imperfect for some days. Or weeks. He knew not how long people were given but he had had been there just under two weeks and he was growing conscious of the weight, the pressure to act appropriately. He was not stupid, merely foolish.

He sighed. Life was not what he thought it would, should or could have been. It didn’t much enter his mind that it might be self-fulfilling. He gave the lathe a last sullen twirl and pushed himself up with a groan. It was time to do just enough once more.

Posted: **February 8th, 2017, 4:59 pm**

Ravak Darrow, Gaidin Captain

"Are you absolutely sure?" Ravak asked, teasingly. He waved a small pair of scissors in front of the Master of Training's nose.

"Absolutely," Julian responded. His lip quivered in amusement, but he kept his voice straight. "Even if I did it as a joke, Isa would hear, and then she'd kill me."

Rav just nodded. Julian often used the excuse of his wife to get out of things, although in this instance Ravak held no animosity towards the Tairen. The shorter man twirled his moustache between two fingers, then gave Rav a nod. "If that's all, Gaidin Captain?"

The scissors vanished into the Shienaran's pocket. "Yeah, that's all Julian. Maybe catch you later if you want to go over those reports?" The Tairen nodded, then headed back towards the Warder Yards.

Standing at one corner of the Training Yards brought Ravak back a number of years, when he had held Julian's role. Rav had enjoyed being the Master of Training, helping those with the potential to become Gaidin for the Grey Tower. He owed a lot to the Yards and to the Tower, and it was only right that he had tried to repay that debt. Now he spent most of his days in his new office, reading reports or filling in forms or writing letters. He wasn't so actively engaged with the learning ranks, and he missed it.

Fortunately Julian was an intuitive fellow, and recognised both when he had a problem, and who to ask for help. One of the newest Drin had started down the wrong path, but Jules didn't know how to solve it. Enter Ravak Darrow.

The Gaidin moved easily around the various spars, his hands on the two sword hilts at his waist. For once he didn't look like an tumbling avalanche of boulders looking to squish someone flat. He kept the easy grin on his face as he sought out this Alrim Farshera that Julian had mentioned. All he had to do was follow the sound of bells...

Ravak's prey was just hoisting himself to his feet. Rav planted himself firmly in the lad's way.

"Alrim Farshera, yes?" Rav only waited for a nod before pulling out the scissors from his pocket, and tossing them at them. "Here you go, you'll need these."

Rav just grinned at the boy's fool expression.

Posted: **February 8th, 2017, 5:48 pm**

It seemed that his day was destined to grow darker though at first he was not aware of that fact. A cheerful demeanour, a humorous tone and something flashing at him in the sun, leaping towards him like a salmon. He wished it was, a face full of fish would have been preferable to looking the fool as his lathe clattered sideways and metal was grasped and bit into the skin. All in a moment, reaction more than thought, and he was still behind. Caught off guard and foolish, it was almost an insult in and of itself. His gaze took in the man before him and finally registered who he was and he felt the ground shift ever so slightly.

“Gaidin Captain,” he nodded his head as was expected though through lack of practise it was probably lacking, “I’m sorry…I don’t…I mean I was just…” he stopped when he realised he was stammering, a child caught out perhaps and shut his jaw neatly.

Better to say nothing incriminating than babble he thought to himself, he had some experience there.

His hand came up and flattened, presenting a neat pair of scissors, slightly bloody but other than that serviceable. Noting the blood he took the handles in his left hand now and brought the small wound to his mouth to cease the flowing before he bent to pick up his wooden sword lathe and let it dangle in his grip, best not to litter the Yard in front of the Gaidin Captain. He had never met the man and only knew him after having him pointed out to him as someone you were in trouble with if you didn’t toe the line. Along with the Master of Training and Mistress of Arms. It had seemed a hollow threat but now it rang truer.

He stared fixedly at the scissors before him, his eyes flicking between them and that jaunty smile. There wasn’t the air of threat, nor shouting or even the statement of a punishment but at the same time there was an edge to the situation that seemed designed to cut. Much like the scissors in his hand. His mind worked as quick as it could, shocked into response, running through the possibilities. Cloth working was out of the question, he hadn’t signed up for anything remotely approaching triage training where he knew they would be useful. Couldn’t fight with them, couldn’t do much else but…

No…he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. That would be… he thought, his mind recoiling. He wasn’t sure of course but he could see little else to cut unless the man wanted to duel with the most ineffective weapon possible.

He knew that there would be a punishment somewhere here, there was no other reason for the Gaidin Captain to randomly disturb him as far as he could discern. Not to mention he knew, deep down, he wasn’t playing by the same rules as everyone else. Still, there was a glimmer of hope amidst the concern, rejection and anger that he tried not to let play upon his features but likely failed. Besides, he wasn’t about to suggest something that might be wrong and change a mind, so he asked.

“I don’t understand. What are scissors good for here?” he asked, his voice was steady even though there was the flicker of an idea in the back of his mind.

Posted: **February 9th, 2017, 12:33 am**

Ravak

The grin wasn't going away. Oh, Ravak had a feeling that Alrim had a pretty good notion what the scissors were intended for, but he was happy to play along. Just after he'd winded Alrim up a bit first.

"Well," he said slowly, "scissors have a lot of uses. Sheep-shearing for one, or trimming nails. I've got a friend who can do amazing things with pinking shears, if you want your uniform to look especially nice." He chuckled. "But that one I keep for Arafellin especially." He let his gaze linger on the Drin's hairline for a noteworthy amount of time, before he looked away to inspect his sword belt.

"I was just having a word with the Master of Training," Rav said casually, as he pulled a glove out from behind his sword-breaker. "He was saying you're having some difficulty settling in to the way things are done here. Not exactly pulling your weight when it comes to training."

The leather fit, well, like a glove. He extracted the other one out from next to his longsword, and pulled that over the hand with the shorn finger. "When you joined us, you would have taken an oath, to serve the Grey Tower. Now, if that's a duty you can't find yourself capable of fulfilling, the gate out to Hama Valon isn't that far away." Rav's blue-grey eyes rose to meet Alrim's gaze. Any mirth that was once there had evaporated. "We don't need liabilities risking the safety of our students."

Posted: **February 9th, 2017, 1:13 am**

It was strange how you could never think of something, just take it for granted really but when it came to having it taken away it seemed like being asked to do something wholly irrational and internally painful. He was no idiot, it didn’t take the lingering gaze to confirm his suspicions. It did take an enormous effort not to let out an immediate tirade of oaths and end up the worse for it. He settled for gritting his teeth as the scene played out, knuckles white around both the wooden lathe and the scissors as grip tightened perceptibly.

And so it comes to pass once more, quicker than expected and far more inventive. Bloody, damned… he continued to let it out mentally until it was all finished.

The steeled gaze was there then, jabbed in at the end almost casually. It seemed almost dishonest that it had been left for the end instead of having it out at the offset but the effect was undoubted. Gaidin Captain’s didn’t get where they were by being soft Alrim knew as the silence stretched slightly, a few gusts of wind rippling the other’s flame red hair and jingling his own as if to emphasise to tableaux. His eyes were wider than usual at this point he was sure and the inner conflict - fear, anger, sadness - all played across his face. He hadn't much self-discipline for classes let alone facial expressions.

An impossible choice was what he had been left with. He could not leave the Grey Tower, not truly out of loyalty because the Grey Tower in his mind had done little to try to win his loyalty. It was probably a jaded perspective but he was who he was and felt and thought. It had mostly served to grind him down bodily more than anyone in Arafel ever had. Yet…yet he could not deny his heritage. The last link to his homeland left, he certainly had nought else to stand by him from there. He could not leave but he could not willingly cut off his hair.

Which is worse? How can I get out of it? he asked himself vainly, he knew there was nowhere left to run.

He could say he would toe the line but his heart would not be in it. It would be the same situation in a few weeks and there would be no hair to cut then and they could hammer him down into pieces and throw him out of the gates. Where would he go then? couldn’t go home, couldn’t go to other Towers. Banditry was below even him and h had no resources to his name to do much else. There was a panic deep down, he had always belonged somewhere, even if that somewhere didn't much want him there. The dual notions of being braid-less and very much alone cut deep and the other man would know it. There was a bitterness though too, he hadn't even chosen to come to the Grey Tower, it had been another impossible choice much like the one before him now. He had chosen the lesser of two evils and now it was upon him again. The Pattern was a cruel mistress.

“Oaths are hard to keep when you’re forced into them or have nowhere else to go…Gaidin Captain,” he breathed out before he could get the words back, he pressed forwards with it quickly, “I cannot go without dishonouring my father, and I have enough of my honour left to not put him through that. Not much…but enough” he stated dully and with a sigh, as if from far away.

He tossed the scissors back towards the other man’s hand gently, there was no malice there, just a frankness he wasn’t sure he knew he had and, in time, he would surely be convinced there were something suicidal about the response too.

“But I will not cut off my own heritage. Dirtied it is but its mine,” he said through gritted teeth, sure he was about to be run through with a sword for dissidence or some such but refusing nonetheless, “you think it is deserved, fine. You’re right, I don’t try as hard as I could. I’d say sorry but I’m not sure if I'd mean it or I'd just say it to avoid...the scissors. I’d say I’ll try to do better but not sure I’d be believed. I can’t fight you to keep it as I’d lose. It’d be pointless” he continued, swallowing slowly, coming to the choice.

“But my father used to say that the hand of the accuser should mete out the justice or they don’t have the right kind of conviction behind their words,” his own eyes, distant before as if reading from an internal parchment, now met the Gaidin Captain’s eyes squarely and with resolve.

“I don’t want to leave, Gaidin Captain. I’ll accept further punishment for refusing but there are some things worth standing for" he finished, surprised he was still alive and feeling the buzz of adrenaline trying to lift him up as he tried to bring it back down, fingers shaking slightly at this conflict. He gathered all ten around the wooden lathe hilt before him to control their betrayal.

It was a foolish defiance, almost childish. Yet it was the only thing he could do and retain any semblance of self-respect in his mind, stunted and shrivelled as it was. An Arafellin would rather die than cut their bells off as far as he was concerned. Let the other man cut it away if he wished, there was a distinction. However small! He wouldn't be pissed on and accept it was raining. It came to him after he had finished that by potentially calling his honour into question he was fulfilling the end result but in a sick way there was also a release there, one he couldn't do himself. The past was not just a foundation, it could also be an anchor. He was not ready to see that but that didn't mean there would be no effect from its cutting away.

Posted: **February 10th, 2017, 12:03 am**

Ravak

The scissors seemed so bright in the palm of his hand: shiny metal against a backdrop of brown leather. Ravak gave it a long, considering look after Alrim had placed it in his hand, listening quietly with a face as stoic as a block of granite.

"Are you quite finished?" Ravak asked gruffly when all of the words had finished tumbling from the Drin's mouth. He could read the tension in the way Alrim was poised, the courage and fear that was warring on his outward expression. He was done, thus everything now was just bracing for the oncoming storm. The Gaidin Captain had a reputation for being grumpy. Some probably assumed he chewed stones as a hobby.

Thus it likely came as a shock when a grin appeared on the Shienaran's face. The lines around his eyes vanished as he clapped Alrim on the shoulder. "I'm glad to see there's some mettle in you." With his other hand, he made a clear show of slipping the scissors away into his trouser pocket. "We were worried that the fight had gone out of you."

Rav removed his hand and settled it once more on his sword hilt. "Your father sounds like a wise man. For my own part, I do mete out my own justice, but I've never yet cut an Arafellin's bells out, nor have I let anyone do so. I think the first thing it's cut has been your finger." Rav gave Alrim a placatory look. "Sorry about that."

All signs of the apology was gone in the next instance. Ravak's voice rumbled. "As for the rest, well. You did make your oaths to us, Alrim, and you made that decision. Everyone has a choice -- even if it's between pledging an oath or having to survive on charity, that's still a choice. If you wish to remain here, you have to start acting like it."

The Gaidin Captain cast his gaze out to the plethora of other trainees and Gaidin in the yards. "There are your peers Alrim, your brothers and sisters from this day forth. No-one is looking for you to fail. We want the finest warriors in order to serve the Tower and to protect our channellers." The steely gaze turned to the Drin. "We want you to be confident in your own abilities, so you can stand against the forces that seek to ruin this world. Be that the private guards of a corrupt noble, or Shadowspawn along the Blightborder, it's our duty to teach you to survive those challenges." Rav nodded at Alrim. "And it's your duty to learn."

"Now tell me, do you actually want to be here in order to make something worthwhile out of your life, or are you just here to please your father. The latter is an endearing thought, and something I wish my daughters bore in mind, but it's not a sufficiently good reason for you to stay here, now is it?"

Posted: **February 10th, 2017, 1:05 pm**

“Ssss……” he managed to turn the rising words smoothly into a whooshing sigh of relief even as he continued the tirade mentally.

Son of a…tricky little…smiling like a bloody…! it went, for quite some time even as elation began to smooth over the flames of consternation.

It was short lived, however, instead he had to laugh, a small chuckle, at the sudden release of tension coupled with the threat being revealed as just that - a threat. Nothing was going to happen, this time at least. The words confirming that he had never cut an Arafellin braids, however, did not mean there were no other inventive punishments that could rear their ugly faces. He rocked slightly at the sudden clap on the shoulder too, relaxing into a more comfortable stance and bringing the lathe to rest across his shoulder, grasping it either side of his head as he listened.

“It’ll heal. I’ll reckon it as a reminder until then” she responded as he shifted his own gaze, trying to see what The Captain General was seeing as the words flowed over his ears and settled in. The serious tone was back now and the apology was fleeting, as well it might have been all things considered. He had still done wrong in their eyes after all.

The lathe came back down to cross his chest as his arms circled him thoughtfully, musing at the strange turn of events that had led him to where he was now. It was a fair question to ask him and he couldn’t refute the observations made. He had no idea what the Grey Tower was even about, he hadn’t been there long enough to make such judgements. He had inklings, that was about all and his own personal philosophies were half in agreement and half opposed to Tower philosophy. He supposed that this moment might be considered his second chance, the chance to improve before being thrown out.

H didn’t want that, he really didn’t want that. He had nowhere to go. Charity was one thing but it was no way to live in his mind. For all its faults being at the Tower was better than the alternative. He couldn’t deny that oaths had been sworn even if he hadn’t really paid attention to them at the time. He owed something to that, even by his own stunted sense of honour. It was reason enough to stay. He could stay that way indefinitely.

But that’s not the same as wanting to be here, is it? he asked himself. The answer was self-evident.

“I wonder if they know that Gaidin Captain, if anything they seem to fight tooth and nail to get to the top. I guess that’s no different than siblings, wouldn’t know,” he stated, “except I know it hurts when they hit you to get there” a faint smile on his lips at that, you had to admire their fervour. If you didn’t they rubbed your face in it.

“As to the question…both really. I’ll please father if it takes me a lifetime and I’d rather be here than elsewhere. I know it doesn’t sound much but I’ve planted my flag, I’m not thinking of running from it. It’s just that I’d rather have made the choice myself,” he shrugged, “but…you’re right, I swore oaths - a…choice - and I’m here now. Make the most of it and try to be better”

“I have no dreams like some of them, some romantic fantasy about being a Warder. No offence Gaidin Captain, “ he said quickly and with a bow of the head, “and not that I wouldn’t do it, I just see it…differently. I’ll do my bit to get there, you have my word, but I won’t say I’ll enjoy every moment of the slog, or the bruises. Guess it‘s just hard to want it the same way they do” he reflected.

“Rather be honest and battered than false and smooth skinned. I reckon it’d make me better in the long run anyway. If you don’t mind my asking Gaidin Captain, how did you find motivation when you were where I am?”

Posted: **February 13th, 2017, 11:14 pm**

Ravak

The Gaidin Captain scratched the bottom of his chin with his thumbnail. "The stories about Aes Sedai and Asha'man and their Warders are seldom close to the truth. Especially the rubbish they write about down south." Rav then ran an eye over the rest of the yards. "Or are you talking about them? Yeah, some of them have daft ideas." He chuckled. "Lemme tell you, being a Warder is not romantic. Least, it wasn't for me." He lowered his hand back to his waist as his face seemed to harden. He had been bonded long before Kaira was born, but he could remember how life as a Warder was.

"As for motivation, well, where to start?" Rav ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I was raised in Shienar, in Fal Dara to the north. It runs along the Blightborder, or near enough; the Blightborder moves back and forth like waves on a beach. But anyways, born and raised in Shienar, intent on joining the army like everyone else. When I got to the age to join, I did." He paused with a slight grimace. "And I was useless. Or near to useless. Fact is, I wasted my time attempting to learn, and as the date for the end of my training grew closer, I recognised the fact that I was about to become the latest victim in the war against the Shadow."

"So, I did the most and least honourable thing I could imagine: I ran away." A pained expression crossed his face in a flash. "I travelled south, first to the White Tower, then here to the Grey. I knew that if I got a different sort of training, then maybe, maybe I could become an actual soldier. Then I could face a Trolloc and have a fighting chance of taking it with me. That was it, that was my goal."

Rav waved a hand dismissively. "Of course, things got a bit more complex then that, saying I'm still here. But when I was a Drin, that was my motivation. I wanted to make myself into a weapon against the Shadow; I wanted to make the people of my homeland proud; and lastly, I wanted to make myself into a soldier."

Then he flashed a grin. "And, of course, there was also a girl. Not that I recommend that necessarily." Rav chuckled again. "She ended up married to someone else, and I never got any more than a kiss from her. A very poor reason to stay, but it contributed."

Posted: **February 14th, 2017, 12:44 am**

As he listened he didn’t get the story he had imagined he would get. He had expected some grand drive and a perfect background, someone who was the Gaidin Captain struck him as someone who should come from stable stock. His perceptions were off by so many spans though they might as well have been in a different country. Perhaps all wasn’t lost for himself he saw, though it both amused and angered him that rules were enforced that had been ignored.

Experience and hindsight, oh how I hate you. The old and successful think they weren’t as bad as they were and the young get to live under it he thought, memory casting back to his own past briefly.

He kept his face impassive though, no reason to give anything to be punished over, those scissors were still around, though pocketed. Still, it seemed to him that it was all well and good to train and to serve but it felt like it wouldn’t be a true life. Not without some breaks, some enjoyment. Perhaps, he reflected, there was a happy medium that they had all found and he was just too foolish to see it.

“You don’t need to worry there, none have looked twice at me since getting here. Never had much success with the lasses,” he leant sideways a little as he thought, “might have been because I never had much to offer” he conceded.

“Still, never really thought about being a weapon either. Respect, I’d like that maybe but then never had any so don’t know. I reckon I’ll stand alongside everyone else for the Last Battle, so to speak, but I always saw it as reason to enjoy life as much as possible beforehand” he stated, looking away and seeing that maybe there was something wrong with that philosophy but not admitting it just yet - still a crack had formed.

“Never been much for books, learned best by doing. Can’t say I know much philosophy either,” he tilted his head sideways and looked at the man then, “but if you want a weapon I can give you one. Don’t think an Aes Sedai could put up with me much at the moment,” a grin then, “but a killer of Trollocs is a start”

He had the ability to do it too. He was quick and picked up things easily enough. What he lacked in discipline he made up for in that regard. Besides which learning to kill seemed pretty fundamental. He would make no promises to obey all of the rules but he wouldn’t complain about any punishments and he’d still turn out a blade for the Grey Tower. Whatever happened along the way, or after, was down to the Pattern.

“Can’t promise I will never do anything wrong, it’d be a lie and I’m no liar for all else I might be. But I’ll do my best to that end. Will there be punishment for my…recent laziness?” he asked.

Posted: **February 15th, 2017, 11:41 am**

Ravak

Ravak shrugged. "I am the Gaidin Captain. I discipline unbonded Gaidin if it is called for. But your fate is in the Master of Training's hands, and I can't speak for Julian Gaidin's view on this." Rav intended to put in a good word for Alrim -- or at least suggest a stay of execution -- but he was right in saying that the Tairen would ultimately decide.

"If you want respect Alrim, you need to earn it. The same goes with the fancloak. This place is built to help you to learn the crafts required of a Gaidin, and we have expectations that you need to meet. But poke and prod you all we like, it's you who needs to put in the work if you intend to stand as one of us during Tarmon Gai'don. Your father may have caused you to come here, but it's down to you if you wish to remain with us." The Shienaran shrugged again, his shoulders slouching as they came back down. "But I'm repeating myself, more or less. You know the spiel, and I can't influence you more than any of the others." Thoughts concerning Kaira were playing in his head, and his brow drew down in dissatisfaction.

After a long moment lost in reflection, Rav visibly gathered himself, giving the air a sharp sniff. Violence permeated the Training Yards, but there was nothing particular of note coming from Alrim. His crime was not one of violence, but of a misplaced understanding and a lack of motivation.

"I have no expectations that you're going to be the model student, Alrim. Everyone makes mistakes or gets involved in some hair-brained scheme. It's good you're keeping away from the ladies, no matter the reason, but don't let anyone else pull your strings and get you into trouble." He gave off a weak smile, thinking once more about his previous bondmate. "Even Gaidin make mistakes."

Yet again rousing himself from reminiscence, he flashed a grin. "Now, unless you've got any more questions for me, I shall have a word with Julian Gaidin about your progress, and your renewed commitment to us. Time to start making your father proud, eh?"

The Grey Tower

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