Back to the Wall [Attn: Soldier Corben]

[Sean]

Chapter One: The Shadow's Masquerade

Valadin waited in the Traveling Square for the entourage making the voyage to the Blight. Strange to think that not long ago it had been he who had been part of the unit. Time moves quickly. Haven’t heard of the former Mistress of Training since that time. Rumors of the new Master of Training were abound, but rare extended stays had the impact of leaving Val with less than complete information on the new Tower official’s identity.

Midday’s bustle had taken the Grey Tower in full. Horses, carriages, and petitioners streamed in a neat column through the main gates. Most wore bedraggled cloth of earthy greys, browns, and greens—often with more than a few off-color patches, but they maintained the mellow fortitude of folk used to living life on tough terms. The M’hael and Amrylin Seat would spend most of their day hearing the disputes, requests, and grievances before attempting to enact justice through their judgment.

Chewing on a lettuce leaf while holding the gaze of another Asha’man until the fellow looked away, Val wondered how Lady Ives felt about her new responsibilities. That she had been named Amrylin had never surprised him. Only a few moments in the woman’s presence gave sign that she was formidable and possessed reliable strength, but looking back on those times Val realized that she was never a person to be shackled. For such an indomitable spirit the burden of the Stole did appear to be a welcome encumbrance.

The Traveling Grounds were busy as well. Gateways opened to and from the grounds allowing for the transport of supplies, injured, and agents from across the Westlands. Since the Talent had been rediscovered, the Grey Tower had become an important mechanism in Hama Valon’s economic standing. Through Traveling the yield of the fertile meadowlands became accessible to the central and western nations—and few refrained from taking advantage when they could. And refugees come here to safe haven too.

The thought of those seeking succor in the stony protection of the Tower reminded Valadin of the day’s mission. Soldiers and Drin were called upon to provide aid to the rebuilding of the influential outpost after it had been overrun by the Shadow’s forces. That day still clung to memory. Bestial roars filling the air while lightening crashed down from the heavens. His sword had been slick with a viscous black liquid that assailed the senses with its horrible order. For a while the remembrance of cutting down his first Trolloc plagued him like a disease. The dying light in those eyes that belonged to a creature, yet clear resting atop the body of a man. Had it not been for the Gateways we would have died in that raid. I would…

Finally a clutch of somber Soldiers and similar ranks came towards his direction. The Asha’man from earlier moved as if to lend his Traveling abilities, but Val waved him off. Since its discovery the Grey Ajah had made great use of the Talent and taken pride it learning its nuances like few other Ajahs had, but Valadin had become particularly adept at the Weave. Experience and the guiding hand of others had seen him become proficient enough to Weave a Gateway large enough to move an entire company through unharmed. “Welcome to you all. The Tower thanks your bravery and selflessness. We head to a place ruined by the Shadow’s dark hand so that we might provide aid. All of you have talents you can contribute. Have a care when and how you channel—it is unwise to do so unless instructed to. The Blight…it is drawn to the power like crows to corpses.”

That drew more than a few comfortable expressions. Better uncomfortable then foolish.

“We move out! Supplies await us once we arrive so take nothing with you. The lighter you travel the easier time you’ll have.”

With that, Saidin was Seized. The Power blazing like an inferno through Valadin as he wove Flows of Spirit carefully, but with familiarity. Spirit had always come easily to him and now utilizing the versatile element had become second nature as the web coalesced into the foundation of what would be a Gateway. A Flow of Fire, crude yet sharp in its purpose drove through the space separating the Traveling Grounds. The very Pattern itself quivered as the image in Valadin’s mind—the charred battlements, the picket lines broken, and the watch towers crumbled—manifested. A slash of silver hung in the air in front of him momentarily before expanding into a column more than tall enough for a man to walk through and wide enough that a wagon could pass through unmolested.

On the other side of the Gateway was the Blight. “Drin through!” Val called out, tone brooking no tolerance for any that tarried overly long. Tense though they were, the Tower’s adherence to order had already been instilled them. They had no choice, but to march.

Note: Hey Damien. Feel free to rp Corben’s preparation. Or if you don’t want to just go ahead and fast forward him heading through the Gateway and finding the ruined fort. We’ll get into the rebuilding pretty quickly so you’ll have a chance to show your stuff.

[Damien]

Corben Ashmar

Corben had awoken in the morning as the first rays of dawn were beginning to warm his windowsill. One perk to having a room that faced the dawn was being able to take advantage of the time it afforded him before the bells called for the beginning of another day.

But today found him, already in his uniform, fretting at the bag on his bed as he considered what to take. Luckily for him, there was little choice as far as fashion, so the clothes had been relatively simple to throw into the bag, but as he stood tapping his fingers he wondered if he would have chance to use his charcoals and art supplies.

The bells rang, startling him out of his daydream and he cursed himself for dawdling. Light what am I thinking, the note said I’m to accompany an Ashaman on his mission, not a pleasure cruise with my aunts and mother, Corben thought to himself as he slipped on his sandals and headed out the door. Wiping his hands, he realized he had grown sweaty with nerves as he recalled all the limited knowledge he had of the Blight and its horrors.

The note he had received had stated that he was expected for midday, and so as the sun reached its zenith in the sky, and the shadows grew short he found himself heading to the Travelling Grounds. Although he ached to explore the Travelling grounds, he noticed immediately that this was one spot in the Grey Tower that hummed with the energy of a beehive. He heard accents from far away countries, his mind recalling meetings he had attended with his uncle as he heard accents from the far north, Illian and even Far Madding. Trade made allies of many strange pairings, and Corben could instantly see how access to something as powerful as Gateways would make for advantageous trading.

Light, my uncle and father would kill to have gateways for the mines. Imagine the savings on the draft teams if they were hauling mere steps instead of miles. I wonder what the Grey Tower imposes for a tariff he thought as he noticed men in uniform collecting payments from many of the merchants. Avoiding a stream of people who had no doubt arrived for the safety of Hama Valon, or to petition the Grey Tower, Corben spotted a few young men of age with himself and wondered if perhaps a new Soldier would wear the black by days end.

Corben soon spotted other Soldiers and Drin’far’ji assembling near one corner of the Travelling Grounds. He wondered at the Drin’far’ji, he knew many of them were no doubt competent warriors as he had seen their training often enough, but he was surprised the senior ranks were not more represented as well. As he approached the group, he immediately noticed the Ashaman standing at the head of the growing assembly.

The man was immense in every sense, Corben’s artistic eye making out the strength in his stance, the strong jawline and the movements of a man with the grace of a predator. This was a warrior, such as he had always imagined from the stories told around the fireplace, strong and forged as if from stone. With the vast difference in their height, Corben found himself intimidated by not only the other man’s rank, but his sheer presence as well. Still Corben prided himself on his dedication to his newfound abilities, and so he stood straight and tall, awaiting instructions.

An outpost overrun by the Shadow? Light that must be deep into the blight then, or at least I pray it is. I would hate to learn those beasts are overrunning the northern lands again, Corben thought to himself, swallowing to try and clear the dryness in his throat that came with the warning against channeling.

When the Ashaman stated that all supplies would be there, and to take nothing, Corben flagged down a runner and had his pack and uniforms returned to his room. He suppose that with Gateways many forms of logistics had become much simpler, and he found himself wondering who was in charge of that duty, whether the Green Ajah or the Grey Ajah due to their respective strengths.

With that, Corben could feel the dreadful presence wash over him as the other man seized Saidin. Corben moved forward, attempting to watch the weave as it was formed, but got little more than an impression of an immense amount of Spirt, and a general appreciation for the weave before it turned into a slash of silver which hung in the air in front of him.
Corben was amazed when he noticed the Gateway was large enough for a man to walk through easily, and as he saw the wagons preparing he realized it was large enough for those to enter as well. He wondered briefly at the strength required to form such a weave, but then the Ashaman was calling them to march forward. With a deep breath to settle his nerves, Corben waited for his spot in line behind the Drin, and when the moment came marched forward with his head held high, and eyes ahead to see what awaited him on the other side.

OOC: sorry it took so long to reply, was a busy busy weekend and it got away from me. But with that said, super excited for this thread. Definitely not Corben's comfort zone

[Sean]

The Citadel had once been a bastion of strength—a testament to the Grey Tower’s ability to repel the insidious advance of the Blight’s dark influence. Once the last of the host of builders, architects, and channelers had stepped through the Gateway, Valadin strode through and found his senses assailed with the fetid taint of the corrupted jungles.

The scene was…disheartening.

Scorch marks bit into the earth where lightening had crashed down repeatedly in an effort to repel the Trolloc horde that had all but trounced the fortresses defenses. Gaps in the ramparts, crumbled watch towers, and main gate which had been ripped from its hinges were mementos of the desperate struggle that had been host the last time Val had been here. This is why strength is the most important thing. One moment of failure, of weakness, and it all vanish.

The Bond transmitted his concern to Nykk who had never been far from his thoughts, but whenever the possibility of losing her loomed there was no little that could be done to keep the troubled concern from flowing through their connection. Noting the somber masks worn by those who witnessed the destruction around them, Val recovered from his emotional quagmire. There was little choice in the matter. People needed to be led…even if it meant clouting them on the ear to remind them of their duty; someone had to do it.

“Where is the commanding officer?”

A soldier sporting a worn leather jerkin stumbled at the abrupt address and seemed to notice the company that had arrived. Anger pulled at the coattails of Val’s mind at the incompetence on display, but taking the Void served to the cool the flames before they charred his insides.

“The Commander is the east w—on the eastern flank,” the soldier offered automatically. When Valadin stepped forward as the speaker of the inquiry the man realized by glancing down at the green cord adorning Val’s coat lapel that it was to an Asha’man he’d so casually spoken. “Along the eastern wall, Asha’man, the soldier said again, this time with a firmer snap to his words. Nodding, Val signaled the others to follow as he headed towards the eastern wall.

The heart of the Citadel was an empty save for the occasional page scurrying from place to place to supply mentors or their betters. Otherwise the bustle was a muted shadow of its former self. Passing the remains of a stable it pained Val to see the sparse collection of horses behind the stalls of the lot few seemed to have the fractious energy that marked a healthy steed.

They found the commander coordinating fortifying the eastern wall where a gaping hole had been partially repaired. Contraptions of peculiar fashion and purpose operated through the labor of men as stone blocks were hauled about to refill the once impenetrable stronghold. The commander was a silver haired man of some years. A veteran officer by his carriage, straight-backed even while moiling alongside his men. Val remembered the man directing refugees through the first Gateway he’d ever Woven during the crisis. It had been this presence of mind that saved many lives; in many ways it was the sort of leader Valadin had always hoped to be.

“Commander,” Val greeted. The older warrior straightened and swiped in vain at a dusty splotch on his forehead causing the blotch to instead smear over his nose.

“Ah, our aid has arrived,” the commander replied, a worn smile breaking through his cracked countenance. “If you don’t mind I’ll see you all begin work immediately. See what your men can do about strengthening the base. We’ve patched the holes up, but I’m afraid the walls won’t last if we face an attack anytime soon. Ground is too tough for us to dig into.”

Valadin, wondered briefly if he was remembered, before putting the distraction from his mind. Turning to the Soldiers and Dedicated specifically chosen for this mission he gave the order for them to begin helping out where they saw fit. “Those who have skill in using Flows of Earth, do not Seize Saidin without first summoning me! Remember the entire Blight is your enemy and the Power you wield is a beacon to draw its evil towards you.”

With Val set himself to work alongside the others. Saidin responded to his call, the furious One Power coursing through him in a surge of life and energy as simple Flows of Air lifted stones from one length of the work site to another saving on effort as well as manpower.

Note: Here’s your first opportunity to get into Earthsinging mate!

[Damien]

Corben

Corben’s excitement at being able to finally see a Gateway was tempered by the fact he was simply marched along with the cadre of Drin’far’ji and Soldiers who had been chosen for the mission. As he walked through the Gateway, he moved to the side quickly to ensure he had would not get in the way of any wagons or supplies that had to be brought from the Grey Tower. Corben took the moment of confusion to glance around and get his bearings.

The Citadel was truly an impressive site, the building constructed to be an anvil against which the enemy would repeatedly bash themselves to ruin. But as he smelled the fetid air and did his best to ignore the damp heat of the Blight, he saw the lightning scars. Bending down he felt at the ground and saw that the heat of the lightning had turned the sand to glass, and it was clear from the pattern of the strikes that this had been no storm.

Ahead of the cadre of builders and channelers, he saw Valadin Ashaman speaking with a guard and looking for the commander. He could see the Citadel was a hive of activity and as there would clearly be some time before it was all organized to accommodate the new arrivals, Corben settled in and began working with the quartermasters. The tired and exhausted men soon noticed he had an eye for detail, cargo and organization, and with a weak clap on his shoulder a few of the men departed to find food and a change of clothes, “Thank you Soldier, we won’t be long,” the quartermaster said with a nod as he lined up with the rest.

Grabbing a few of the Drin’far’ji, Corben was able to convince them of the importance of moving the wagons and having everything organized. It would be a lot simpler getting warm stew and food after a day’s labour if they planned now. After several wagons had been brought through the Gateway, Corben and the men he had asked for help quickly unloaded the wagons and prepared their drivers and mounts for the return trip. Corben was unsure who would make the next set of Gateways, but the horses were being cared for, and the drivers dicing quietly when a runner appeared.

“Soldier, Valadin Ashaman has asked all of those who came with him to come to the eastern wall,” the young man said before dashing off, no doubt with other messages. Corben grabbed a waterskin from the load he had unloaded and rinsed the foul taste the air here left in his mouth. The smell that assaulted his nose was both ripe and rotten, and tickled his nose with the unmistakeable odour of corruption.

He arrived in time to hear the Commander ask for any help they could provide with patching up the hole. As Corben was staring in disbelief at the debris and contraptions that were attempting to levy new quarried blocks into place, he wondered at the industry that had built this bastion of the Light so close to the Blight.

“Those who have skill in using Flows of Earth, do not Seize Saidin without first summoning me! Remember the entire Blight is your enemy and the Power you wield is a beacon to draw its evil towards you,” Valadin Ashaman commanded, the man quickly radiating a sense of power and menace that alerted Corben to his seizing of Saidin. As he watched, he saw large blocks of stone lifted with flows of Air, moving them from the pile by the wagons and over to the contraptions that were lifting them in place.

Corben could see that the crews who manned the machines were well trained, each man moving with hard labour to aid in the task of another. As such he knew that inserting himself into their midst would probably just slow them down. He thought for a moment of helping the wagons with the unloading, but as he felt other Soldiers seize Saidin, he realized that he had been chosen for that strength, not the skill of his hands.

“Ashaman, I would ask your permission to begin, I know you have mentioned the risks of using Saidin so close to the Blight, but I believe I can help,” Corben asked the Green Ashaman before the other man’s abrupt nod gave assent. As Corben moved closer to the wall, he watched the other men with their flows to ensure that he would not interfere with their aims. Most of the men seemed to be simply moving and shaping the blocks with Earth or Air, and as Corben kicked off his sandals he fed his doubt and worries into the Flame.

Once he had achieved the Void, he seized Saidin in a struggle that was fast becoming a constant facet of his life. He had long ago learned to embrace the struggle, for there was no other recourse with Saidin. Fire and heat threatened to melt him away, while glacial ice and shards of cold threatened to shatter his bones, but safe in the Void he not only survived the assault but mastered it.

Although he longed to prove his strength next to the men beside him, he recalled the Commander had mentioned that the soil was proving too hard for digging. As such he spun threads of emerald Earth, and silver Spirit into a thin web which he then laid upon the soil at the gap.

As his weave settled upon the soil, he continued to send tendrils of Earth and Spirit into the soil, Delving to see what he could discover. As his weave quested through the soil, he could feel where large slabs of bedrock lay just beneath the soil, and how the very strength that had made the ground ideal for supporting the tall walls, was now an obstacle to be overcome. He took a moment and let the Delving weave show him the lay of the land, and he then released the weave.

Taking a moment to pause, he then weaved small threads of garnet Fire and Air, holding the weaves thin and controlled through the strain of using Air. As he wove, small fireballs the size of torches lit along the area he planned to excavate as a warning to the workers nearby. Once he was certain the crews were clear, he released the weaves with a grateful groan. A vague plan in mind, Corben allowed himself a moment to recover and squeezed some water from the waterskin to aid in the headache he knew would come. Then he grabbed flows of emerald Earth, and probed the ground he had marked with his flames.

As he sought ought out the threads of Earth, to his mind they leapt to his command like an eager hound, his weaves snapping into place as he wove two thick flows of simple Earth. The emerald threads snaked into the sand and soil, lifting it from the rock beneath, Saidin providing him with great gouging claws that tore into the earth, moving the sand and soil.

As he worked with his weaves he used the thick threads of Earth and shifted the earth far outside the walls, smoothing the soil and sand as his weaves spread it wider.

Releasing the weaves, he looked down at the hole he had excavated, a smooth sided oval bottomed with the tough bedrock. For now his hole was a few hands deep, but he knew to truly anchor the wall, he would need to allow for much more depth. Corben was not surprised to find the thick rock had moved little, and he unconsciously fiddled with his buttons as he considered how to overcome the strength of the stone.

OOC: Edited to reflect notes. Thanks Sean, still getting a feel for the power balance And reading ahead I saw some of the difference between throwing Earth threads and the ground, and Earthsinging.
So edited for that also.

[Sean]

Notes: Good, but don’t set the starting point too high. Knowing your PC’s initial limitations and building on them is part of improvement. If you’re carefully controlling four Weaves—regardless of simplicity and innate genius at once to start—your end game is going to get pretty unrealistic. Just some advice.

Saidin’s presence rolled over the channeling men in a crashing wave. The intense ferocity of stirring the individual storms of each man to heights that they would rarely ever experience again making the moment memorable as the Power sped the work of the laborers. Even Valadin whose initial dismay at the assignment was not immune to the One Power stirring within him—calling for him to fully take on its might.

A Soldier called, the young man’s voice pulling Val’s thoughts from the heady siren’s song of Saidin. Nodding his assent to the Soldier’s request from afar, Val headed to where he saw many Flows of Earth at work until a sizable indentation had been bore into the ground. Judging by appearance alone it was clear the Soldier had an affinity for working with Earth.

Making quick survey Val wondered at the reason a bookish looking fellow would decide to venture into the Blight. Bitemes swarmed the air, tiny black dots which only drew attention through an irritating penchant for nibbling at whatever flesh was at hand. “Fine work, but err on the side of caution with Saidin. No matter how gentle or yielding it may appear it has no master. In a moment it could turn on you and leave you a husk of a man,” Val scolded while waving away a flying pest.

Seizing Saidin with ruthless determination Val sent a Flow of Earth towards a nearby stone the size of a man’s head. The Flow shattered the rock, but the effort left Val unwilling to further press wielding one of his weaker powers. “Earth is strong among the Powers, yet it can be unwieldy and worse costly without finesse.”

Betrys had shown him the difference between Earthsinging and simple Flows of Earth. The Power churned to life yet again though this time the storm was noticeably weaker. This time the Flows were directed towards the hole the Soldier had dug into the ground, the Power going directly into the ground itself.

Though his Talent for it was minor, Val opened himself to the cadence of the ground beneath them. The unyielding energies that coursed through the soil’s surface going unnoticed until someone noticed them. It was these that he directed the Flow of the Power to and the Earth though hesitant at first began to move, rolling upon itself like in an earthy river to fill several of the more visible gaps. Sweat sluiced down the length of Val’s back as the effort approached a dangerous region forcing him to release the Flows.

Visibly fatigued he turned to the Soldier, expression stoic despite his quickened breath. “Truly moving the immovable requires not force, but understanding. You appear to have the Talent so close your eyes and hold Saidin. Fill yourself with it until it hurts, yet do nothing with its might. Then listen. Try to hear the subtle shifts in the ground. Hear the song of the world few can listen to.”

[Damien]

Corben

Corben had released Saidin, allowing his body and mind to rest while he considered the problem of the rock. Tiny black flies with bites of fire made the humid fetid atmosphere worse and he wondered if somehow he had stirred them up with his excavation.

When Valadin Ashaman arrived to speak with him, Corben felt his pride in the accomplishment tempered by the warning from the other man. The Ashaman's tone was serious, and the Void lent it an emotionless quality that was hard to read. Swallowing his initial reaction of pride, he considered the experience of a man who wore the cord; and in the cool light of logic, Corben had to admit he had let the heady sense of strength run away with him.

Just after his warning, Corben could sense the menace still emanating from the other man, and he watched as a thick thread of Earth struck a rock and caused it to explode in a spray of shards. Corben was impressed by the display of strength, and from the effect of the weave it was obvious the other man understood first hand the cost of using Earth.

"Yes Ashaman, I hear and obey. I had let my eagerness and wonder with Saidin carry me away," Corben admitted, his face flushing with shame as he realized he had almost burnt himself out the first time he had been given free rein. Light but it really does make one feel like they could challenge the mountains Corben thought to himself, determined to prove himself capable of mastering the challenge.

Corben watched as the other man once more demonstrated his knowledge. The threads Valadin Ashaman used were far thinner than what Corben had wielded, and he watched with fascination as they seemed to almost soak into the ground. Like rainwater on parched earth Corben thought vaguely as he watched the earth once more begin to move, rolling upon itself like in an earthy river to fill several of the more visible gaps.

"Truly moving the immovable requires not force, but understanding," said the Ashaman as his stoic faced showed fatigue and the strain of what he had just done. "Fill yourself with Saidin, but do nothing with its might. Hear the song of the world that few can listen to," he commanded of Corben as the Ashaman took a draw from the waterskin.

Corben looked at the prepared area, and was amazed at the smoothness of the area Valadin Ashaman had moved. The earth had truly seemed to obey him, and Corben could feel a hunger to know a talent like that. Dim memories of the night he had stopped the mudslide tickled his mind, but he fed them to the Flame.

Centering himself in his breathing, he fed everything to the Flame until he felt he had sunk into the Void. Once he floated in the calm, he took a few heartbeats to sink his ambition and hunger into the Void as well. He knew now that had little place here, and with his mind feeling calmed he seized Saidin.

The torrent of light, fire ice and flame once more assaulted his being, but he wrestled with the flows until his grip was secure. Then remembering the Ashaman's instructions, he drew the power in and let it fill him.

His senses sharpened and heightened, the world coming alive with a vibrancy he could scare believe. The torrent of Saidin made all else seem moot, but as he rode the currents, wrestling with the flows he slowly began to hear a mournful sound he had never heard before.

It was hard to describe, a music that seemed as if it was played to a beat that lasted years. A sense of age and his own smallness threatened to overwhelm him, but he fed the smallness to the Flame and kept himself safe in the Void. No wonder Valadin thought me arrogant, to act like I was the master of this, or to discount for a moment the power within me, Corben thought without regret or emotion, ensconced in the Void as he was.

The song he could hear was incredible, but the mournful pain he sensed seemed at odds with how he had always imagined the earth to be when he had walked the mines. "I think I can hear it Valadin Ashaman, it's like a funeral dirge. I can almost hear the evil of the Blight in the song," Corben blurted out in shock and awe.

He was too amazed to act, and had no idea how to proceed.

OOC: Figured initial contact was a good place to stop given your advice above. Let me know if the song isn't quite right as described.

[Sean]

With an affinity that was altogether too familiar by now the Soldier attuned himself to the currents running beneath their feet. Saidin fought against the restraints of Valadin’s concentration, the Fury reaching towards the Power with a desperate thirst that made contemplating the melding of the two forces frightening to consider. Impressed as he was Val offered little in the way of praise for the Soldier’s success.

Nodding curtly he turned away to provide instruction to another channeler whose caulking had gone askew among the shifting rubble. As always with those new to the One Power the reprimand earned a flickering of irritation which was shortly after smothered by the expected obedience. Headstrong seems to be the way of the young. I wonder why I was different, he pondered as he returned to where the studious looking young man remained peering at the ground with equal measures of awe and sadness. Though he was never destined to hear the song of the Earth as clearly as some, Val had become accustom to sensing the subtle movements along the ground that would have gone unnoticed. The Blight’s tainted touched everything from the air to the beasts that hid among the leaves. Reason would have it that even the land upon that was tread upon each day would be poisoned by the Shadow’s evil in the world.

Resting a hand on the Soldier’s shoulder Val readied to provide more advice when a sound rolled through the fort like thunder and the earth lurched unsteadily beneath them. Clouds of murky red clay swallowed everything in the silent heartbeats that next passed. Then cries lifted to the air and Val was on his feet shouting for the Soldiers to follow the sound of his voice as he raced to the western border.

The scene was a grisly one. What had remained of the battlements had toppled down during reconstruction crushing any who had been upon and below its walls. Many of the men trapped beneath the capsized stones lay too still to hope that life still clung to them. Sputtering debris with every breath Val readied to issue the necessary orders when another voice broke through the confusion and despairing lamentations. “All hands to the western! Sentries hold your positions! Medics set up triage in the square! Everyone else haul these men free!”

With all the expectation of one accustomed to having his words become action, the commander spared little time waiting others to organize. Despite the silver short cropped nest on his head the old fort officer moved spryly among the toppled boulders, bounding over heaps with the efficient speed of a soldier used to endless marches. Immediately he tried shifting a stone that had crushed a pale-faced young man’s leg.

Valadin’s eyes picked out the Soldier from earlier and gestured the young man over. “Simple Flows of Earth will be too crude to move those without hurting anyone,” Val muttered, mouth and nose now gritty with the dust lingering in the air. Others by now had joined their leader and pulled haplessly to preserve the lives of their comrades. It was all too clear how it pained them to lose even one of their number—especially after what they had endured. “There’s no correct answer to this…simply offer the best you can.”

Shallow a solution as it was Val felt it sufficed as he took Saidin again. The enduring fatigue was rinsed from him as his insides burned with wondrous vitality. As the brief struggle with the male half of the Power subsided Val wove a Flows of Air into an arm that hoisted a boulder that a clutch of men could not get to budge several feet into the air before setting aside. Splitting the Weave in several more Arms of near equal strength as their original drained him greatly, the act causing a visible sag in his shoulders as more stones were lifted from the dead or the dying. Saidin’s menace once again washed over his senses as the Soldiers began providing what aid they could.

Note: Given Earth is about controlling the movements of…well the earth I figured it’d be up to you to come up with some innovative. Flexibility of thought and control all in one post: good luck.

[Damien]

Corben

Corben was too lost in the song he was just beginning to hear, to notice when the Ashaman departed to aide another channeler.

To call it a song was not quite right, and yet he could not truly think of another way to describe it. It was beautiful in its way, and he shook his head when he felt himself becoming too fuzzy in the Void. The brush with the danger of Saidin snapped his mind back to focus, and he was glad of the Flame as it consumed the spike of fear.

The Ashaman had returned as Corben was readying himself to attempt further excavation. The man clasped him on the shoulder, and Corben was awaiting further demonstration when suddenly the pair was engulfed by clouds of red dust. He could feel the earth lurch beneath him, and then he was caught in the wake of the Ashaman as the other man dashed towards the source of the disturbance.

As Corben arrived, wetting a kerchief from his canteen and wiping the grit and rusty dust from his mouth he surveyed the damage.

At first he couldn't fathom the gruesome scene before him. He could see the battlements had collapsed but before he could wonder at the damage to the wall, he noticed the bodies that had become trapped beneath the capsized stones.

He could well imagine the weight of stone that had fallen from the battlements, and he knew from years of living with a mining family that stone crushed with immense force. So as he watched the Citadel guards scramble over the rubble he did not hold out much hope for their comrades.

Valadin Ashaman spotted Corben through the dust and chaos and Corben saw him gesture for Corben to join the man. "Simple Flows of Earth will be too crude to move those without hurting anyone,” the black coated man muttered, gesturing at the men who had joined their leader.

Corben could respect their dedication, and numb drive to save even a single comrade after a disaster such as the struck. He nodded at the instructions, his mind running over options quickly as he watched flows of air looping around a boulder and lifting it off the pile. The flows split and split and as Corben watched he could see the Ashaman's shoulders sagging from fatigue. Knowing that he could never hope to match that strength with threads of Air, Corben grabbed threads of Earth and as he has seen the other man perform he allowed his weave to mesh with the unseen force that lurked within the rubble.

To his mind the song of the worked stone was somehow different than that of the land, but he didn't have time to examine the difference. Moving more on instinct than anything else he immersed his weave in the energy surrounding the larger rocks. Worried about sending them rolling, he listened to the song of the rubble, noticing almost a sharp note within the song.

Snapping his threads through the rock, he used the energy that suffused the rock to further the destruction it had withstood.

Contained within his weaves, the large chunk of battlement continued to crumble into smaller debris and sand. The smallest pieces he allowed to roll away, and a sharp eyed Dedicated began grabbing the stone fragments and moving them with threads of Air.

That allowed Corben to wrap another massive hunk of stone in a similar cage, before once again using the power within the stone itself to crumble more to dust.

OOC: Nice setup of a problem to settle Loved it!

[Sean]

By day’s end all bodies had been recovered with surprisingly few casualties suffered. The western fort wall remained largely damaged. There was little left of the battlement—a projected for the coming day. In the intermission a picket line of soldiers camped just beyond the breach to watch for any movements in the surrounding Blight. Despite the difficulties of the day as nightfall came and the brutal cold impinged upon the Citadel’s recovering populace Valadin noticed that the fighting spirit never died in these people. Whether a product of calling the edge of the Blight home was the cause he could not say, but the mood was inspiring as the sounds of nighttime lifted from the sparse smattering of homes that remained standing and from within the Citadel’s main keep where the commander had allowed refuge for those who had no other accommodation.

Valadin and the Soldiers fell in this category. They found themselves sharing cramped quarters with families of those whose lives had been saved through the efforts of the channeling men. Some had been lost and these were a sullen lot with little to say. No blame could be laid upon them, yet when others expressed their relief the few held fast to their sadness to keep from influencing the light mood.

“Stay out of trouble lest a Dark Hound carry you off into the night,” Val mock-chastised an ebullient boy whose hair was so long it was hard to see much of his face. One of the Soldiers had been misplaced a family heirloom and quickly paid the price as the children in the keep made sport of spiriting it away. After watching the hapless Soldier try to bully the kids into returning the item Val intervened. “Your mum will have little choice, but to pay for a new child when you’re gone. You don’t want that, now do you?” At the quick shake of the head, Val nodded and sent to youth on his way.

Handing the family treasure back to its owner after a little admonishment, Val inquired about the young man he’d met earlier. “Ah, you mean Corben, Asha’man? Can’t say I know much about him. Most of the lads, er, Soldiers think he comes from nobility. Always lookin’ like he’s off to a ball or something. Some say he’s a good sort though. A bit off, but alright I reckon.”

Nodding at the summation of this ‘Corben’ Val dismissed the lad. The day had been trying. Even here among the polished stone of the Citadel’s keep the stink of the Blight haunted every breath. Death and decay coated everything from the supper they partook to the water they bathed with; the ever present reminder that the Shadow would come without fail.

Even so, the Fury was quiet here. Valadin wondered at the coincidence that in a place where evil was said to be at its thickest he found refuge from inner turmoil. Sleep found him that night as it rarely did when he was from Nykk’s side.

Note: We can continue with more if you like, but I thought this would be a nice bookmark to stop if you so choose to. You can PM your decision or just make a note at the end of your next post. Beware though…Val knows your name. Dun dun dun.

[Damien]

Corben

Corben sat beside a wagon, a simple barrel he had grabbed his stool as he leaned against a wagon and tried to stop his racing mind.

By the end of the day they had finished excavating the bodies, and he felt a stab of grief as he realized he had maintain the Void far longer than needed to keep the parade of bodies from affecting him. For Corben it had been a sobering sign of what these men had lost, and what they were prepared to give up.

The keep had been made ready for them, but with all the families taking refuge there Corben had decided to spend some time outside. The heat and stink of the Blight was ever present everywhere and he had found no relief in the Keep, and so the night found him sitting near the picket line.

As he stared at the scars on the ground, the ravaged battlements and the ruin of the wall he knew these men would arise with the dawn and tackle the problems each day till their duty was over.

Having been here made the stories and lessons he had been attending more poignant, there was nothing like the fetid taste or the oily sensation that covered everything here. And the song, I will never forget that here I first learned the notes, Corben thought with awe as he recalled working well into the afternoon, standing until the strength to channel left him as he had crushed rock after rock of the rubble with the amazing gift he had just begun to explore.

Nor would he ever forget the dirgeful sounds of mourning, the discordant noise he had felt leeching into the earth as he had heard the evil of the Blight affecting even the very soil they stood on.

He wished he had brought his sketchbook, as he felt the need to capture this moment for himself, but he contended himself with a feeling of having worked towards something far bigger than his own lessons. As he heard chatter and life, and saw lights in the homes nearby he finally felt settled enough to seek sleep.

Humming absently to himself, he walked through the yard till he found a simple cot out of the way, and collapsed into an exhausted slumber.

OOC: Bookmarking it here sounds good. And Corben will learn to duck out of the way when he hears Val's boots coming. Thanks for the great setup and everything, and I will definitely seek Val out for more fun once Corben wears the sword.