Feroce mulled over the latest news as he swirled a half-empty, cold cup of kaf. He leaned back in his seat and regarded the dark liquid through half-lidded eyes, though his mind was sharper than his look suggested. The Cairhienin was rather typical in terms of height for his folk, and although ofted he walked like a man two heads taller, in this moment he did look small and, under a particularly unflattering angle of shadows cast across the room, almost old. A dignified old, with the M'Hael uniform that fit perfectly and was clean to the point of unrealistic to expect from having worn it for a whole day, but old nonetheless. The silvery hair and Ageless look were not working in his favour this evening.
He felt it, sometimes, deep in his bones. An age from experience rather than the passage of time.
This was just another incident, another ache to contend with in his body.
False Dragons did not make themselves known often. The prevalence of the Black Tower, the insignificance of the White, and the overwhelming success of the Grey, made such proclamations pointless. But maybe there was something in the water at Tar Valon, where the political pinnacle of the land had faded over time without the original structure being dwarfed by Dragonmount.
Maybe there was something poetic about it. A phoenix rising from the rubble of the White Tower within spitting distance of Dragonnount. Feroce would have chosen somewhere else to proclaim himself as the Dragon Reborn but as far as declarations went, there were worse places to make an introduction to the world. Maybe a lot of other places had already been claimed by the history books?
Unlike some other False Dragons historically, this particular heathen was shrewd. The first whispers in the wind said that he was not alone, and that could prove to be a problem. But the Grey Ajah was already out there, covertly finding out what they could from Tar Valon itself. Feroce had absolutely no doubts in his mind that they would report back in later that evening as promised, then they could decide what they were going to do about this upstart. The most efficient and sensible of the Ajahs - he should know - would give him the information he wanted to present to the Hall.
Satisfied in his former Ajah's competence in the matter, Feroce downed the rest of his drink, and grimaced at the fact it was far too cold now to be enjoyable. A habit he had never managed to kick. He went on to his next habit; checking the reports from his eyes-and-ears to see what else he could glean before the Greys returned. "No rest for the capable," he muttered to himself in a low voice, but his eyes were opened properly now and he was most alert... perhaps from the acrid cold kaf... but alert nonetheless.
The False Dragon probably thought this was a great opportunity, but it was in fact going to be one for Feroce and the Grey Ajah.
| OOC: Welcome to Paradigm Shift, a short MRP where a False Dragon has announced himself amidst the rubble of the White Tower's remains. He does not work alone... Once the Grey Ajah have made their report, Feroce is going to present his findings to the Hall. Then the MRP will kick off in earnest! This particular MRP has no stringent requirements for participation. If you could express an interest then please reply below and I can take characters into account. I have an idea of the scenario in a broader sense but want to facilitate for any rank who wants to get involved. Depending on who replies, the information presented to the Hall may be slightly different to accommodate for everyone. ONWARDS  |
