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.