Long shots and misfires (attn: Lysira Gaidin)

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Welcome to the Warder Yards. This is the place for Warder and Trainee roleplays. Informal non-training interactions take place here, as well as some extended role plays. Yet these events may take place at any area of the Tower, and sometimes outside of it, since the images to the left merely serves as inspiration towards the sceneries of your stories. Channelers are always welcome, and might even find his or her bondmate through the threads that are displayed below.
Jack
"Lord of Chaos"
Posts: 470
Joined: May 25th, 2015, 9:01 pm
PC: Malcym Ashe

Long shots and misfires (attn: Lysira Gaidin)

Post by Jack » June 23rd, 2020, 11:36 pm

Alternative, ‘The Art of Betting on Drin Malcym Ashe's Misfortunes’ Featuring: Malcym Ashe Drin as entertainment, Joram, Timone and Barlow Gaidin as spectators The two older Gaidin stood atop the second story balcony overlooking the Warder Yards’ archery range. It was early, just after the sun pierced the horizon; the morning air was enough to inspire some younger Gaidin and even a few ambitious trainees to get an early start with some exercise.

The two Warders, dressed in simple black attire suited to their status as Warders, sipped on freshly brewed tea poured from a nearby large pot. They had seen earlier days, had come through the ranks and had decided to remain in the Grey Tower to pass on knowledge to the next generation.

“Two silver marks says he’ll miss by twenty paces,” one said. The other one chuckled and muttered, “Two silver marks says fifty paces and he’ll hit the archery tower instead.”

One, Timone, was thin and short, black hair and a grizzled face with piercing grey eyes -- and a bit of a wisecracking attitude that befit a man of Cairheinin common stock. The other, Barlow, was nearly as old, taller and broad-shouldered, though he had gotten a little thick in the middle in his advancing years; of course, people would be fools to think they were any less dangerous.

Both men still carried themselves like a coiled spring, ready to pounce. And the sword Timone wore at his side and the spiked staff leaning against Barlow’s free shoulder was proof either were still active -- Timone bound to a Brown Asha’man and Barlow to a White Aes Sedai.

Where most took this time to exercise, the two men had since settled into watching some wayward trainees from a distance. And often wagered on the possible outcomes. Their latest source of amusement was a new recruit -- one who had been here a month, if that.

Beneath them, a young drin’far’ji had an arrow nocked and drawn in a crude method utilizing a recurve bow similar in fashion to the Aiel horn bow. The lad had been up and early for the past week, way before anyone else might see him.

And each time had been a lesson in humility and the pains pride could bring to the young and foolish.

Another pair of eyes was watching the young man as well, but the owner of those sharp brown eyes watched half-hidden in the shadows from beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat. Joram Satile Gaidin had to admire the boy’s persistence, even if he wanted to chastise the lad for being too proud to seek proper training. After all, the slight, brown-haired Amadician Gaidin was the reason young Master Malcym had decided to enlist in the trainee ranks.

The young lad beneath the unsuspecting spectators exhaled and released ... and the arrow flew fifty paces and at least twenty wide of the trainee’s target ... skewering an unattended wide-brimmed hat.

“Pay up,” Timone said. “A nice steak dinner and a mug of dark ale.”
All three had their eyes on the young trainee, whose face was red with frustration. He shook his hand, obviously stinging from the improper release of the bowstring. He quickly drew another arrow back, but in his haste missed the target again. This time it flew past the target and hit a bale of hay.

Joram heard slight creaks behind him, barely enough to register from the men nearby as they watched their morning fun. He turned to see a diminutive woman accompanied by another person.

“Lysira Gaidin,” he murmured in respect, his eyes returning to the field below.

Any idiot who assumed she might be an easy mark would be foolish; the other Gaidin was one of the most dangerous in the Yards, especially when it came to a bow.

“Twenty paces,” he could hear Timone say. “Thirty-two. Easily.” snorted Barlow.

Joram shook his head, partly in amusement and partly in frustration at the whole scenario.

“These two have been wagering on young Master Ashe down there for a week now,” Joram murmured, his voice low enough only for Lysira to hear. “Every day for a week, at this time, he’s tried his hand at the bow and failed. And it’s not because of lack of trying or discipline, just flaming pride.”

Below, Malcym glowered at the weapon in his hand and unstrung it. He then gripped one end.

“Actually, fifty paces,” came the words from Timone.

The unstrung bow when flying through the air as Malcym hurled it, sailing past the the hay bale as if it were a Trolloc’s head being kicked around by an irate Green.

“Flaming bloody ashes, that thing actually farther than the arrow,” Barlow snarked. “Eighty-five paces?” Timone shook his head. “A hundred and five.”

Both men were still unaware of the other spectators, including a sighing Joram. He looked sideways at Lysira Gaidin and muttered, “He’s new but determined and better trained than some of the drin who spent a year here. Put a sword in his hand and in the sparring arena and he could likely stand against a ji’var within six months.”

Joram shook his head. “He’s sharp and focused and shows promise for strategy, something I could give him lessons in,” he murmured. “Had he been born or raised in Amador, the Children of the Light would have snatched him up without a second thought; Illian or Andor, and they would be grooming him for command. And to boot, he rushed a bunch of mercenaries and provided bait to allow an Asha’man to reach the gates before taking a few crossbow bolts.”

Below, an arrow went sailing through the air, flying awkwardly before sticking into the ground.

“Still farther than the last arrow he shot,” Timone crowed before sipping his tea.

Joram coughed slightly, loudly enough for the other two Warders to hear from the distance ... and blinked in slight embarrassment. Joram waved before muttering, “If he learns how to use a bow properly, imagine how sharp that mind becomes. With a sword, he’s good in close quarters. With bow and arrow ...” he looked at Lysira Gaidin and smirked. “Well, I needn’t tell someone whose bow very well has a heron mark.”

Below, Malcym was in the process of recovering the offending bow and restringing it.

“He just needs the proper instructor, especially one he will need to take time to understand that instructor’s language over time as an added bonus for patience,” Joram said.

The trainee began to draw the bow again, his stance again off. Joram grimaced; he might know much about archery, but the posture alone was all wrong.

“Trainee Ashe,” Joram called out, “you will un-nock that ... “

The order went unfinished as Malcym turned about suddenly to see where the familiar voice had come from. With it went the course of the bow ... and the arrow released at an arc. The arrow flew faster than eyes could follow -- and carried away Joram’s hat, sticking it to a wooden post behind him.

Joram looked at Lysira and muttered, “Perhaps proper instruction sooner rather than later before someone beats him bloody with that bow.” His gaze went down to the trainee and he shouted. “That’s a new hat and four days of extra drilling during your free time you owe me, young Master Malcym! And that’s after what the Master of Training does to you should words reach the ears of that office.”

“Five gold crowns says he’ll do it,” Timone said eager amusement. “Done,” Barlow said, with some small hope about something.

A stream of oaths so strong an Seafolk or Saldaean matron might blush at rang out from beneath. “Pay up,” Timone said.
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."

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Bella
Female Channeller Representative
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Joined: April 14th, 2015, 11:28 pm
PC: Miahala Darrow Sedai
SC: Lysira Viathene Gaidin
TC: Gareth Tomosan Asha'man
QC: Natlya Cade Gaidin
QC: Andraste Alhandra Sedai
Location: New England

Re: Long shots and misfires (attn: Lysira Gaidin)

Post by Bella » July 1st, 2020, 3:24 am

Lysira Gaidin had seen a few bad bowman in her life...

...but this was pretty bad.

She looked up at Ji'val Alteem and then nodded at the two chattering birds by the teapot. Alteem--a tall, lanky young man who was serving as her translator--hurried off to tell them that they were kindly requested to vacate their spectators' seats unless they wanted Lysira to come tell them herself.

They were both acutely aware that if this Gaidin was telling anyone anything without her translator, it would be written in blood.

They left, quietly making bets about what Lysira would do with Malcom Ashe.

Nodding as Joram as she headed toward the bewildered young man, she eyed this trainee up and down a few times. She knew that she herself wasn't particularly intimidating to look at, but she usually managed to get her point across. After a thorough perusal, she began to sign, 'Young man, you are miserable with that thing,' she signed. Her facial expression put the punctuation on the statement.

'Why have you not asked for a trainer? The yards are filled with them. People who know things about using wood and string to make pointy-ended sticks hit other things.' Her hands stilled and her brow arched.

Jack
"Lord of Chaos"
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Joined: May 25th, 2015, 9:01 pm
PC: Malcym Ashe

Re: Long shots and misfires (attn: Lysira Gaidin)

Post by Jack » July 2nd, 2020, 1:27 am

Joram Gaidin Joram’s eyes followed Lysira’s translator as the young man politely shooed the veteran Warders from their perches. The pair had gotten a solid look at their fellow Gaidin and knew better than to provide lip.

At least that was the sense Joram got from their rather rapid exit. There were few black and white moments in this Tower -- most of them were in these Yards or in the White Ajah hall. One constant remained clear: don’t piss off Lysira Viathene or you ended up a pincushion.

He chuckled in amusement before catching Lysira’s nod. And then he sighed. “I’d say go easy on the lad, but if he gets out of line ...” he smirked, recalling a tall tale of a certain former Dedicated, now Indigo and the so-called Freak of the Yards that still circulated through the Yards as a cautionary tale. “If he gets out of line, have him swim the lake and back before your aide finishes singing a song. And make sure it’s a short song.”

Joram liked the boy, but then the Amadician was known for being harsh and withholding.

He moved his hands in a simple few moves, in one of the limited phrases he knew of the sign language. Good luck. And then he was off.
Malcym Ashe Drin’far’ji Malcym Ashe had gone through some humiliating moments in his life, whether as a child or as a young soldier in Murandy’s army.

But none held a candle to that exact moment, standing in the archery range, as several pairs of eyes watched him from above. Well, there was the exception of wearing a dress while running through the streets of Lugard when he was sixteen -- he’d learned a valuable lesson that day of not ever making a bet with his sister again.

On top of that, the man who had come to be one of his chief instructors had nearly been skewered by an arrow. A man he happened to respect.

But then what flaming fool shouts out when you have a bow fully drawn? he thought to himself. Light, but archery wasn’t a card game where you rushed to confront the second you got a roll of the dice that matched a full consortium.

And who in the flaming Light would be up this bloody early? Well, plenty of people, but that was beside the point. For the last several days, he had been the only soul on the ranges out this early.

“I’m going to kill him,” Malcym muttered under his breath as he turned back, his face still red.

He was about ready to draw another arrow when he heard the creak of boots on the lower rungs of the steps. Instead, he placed the arrow back into the quiver next to him and then pinched his nose.

Such things were becoming more pronounced in the last few weeks ... dreams too real to believe, sounds and smells flaring up ... and a stronger desire to head into the wilderness. Discipline kept him in line, but there were only so many things he could control.

The most recent display ... well, that was probably 100 percent his fault. A second creek of boots on steps sounded.

It wasn’t Joram. Malcym knew enough of that Gaidin in the few months he had been here, enough to know that if the Amadician wanted to speak with him or rip him a new one, it was done solo.

His silver-blue eyes went to his sword, next to the quiver. His mind was an ever-constant rush of calculations, including the time it would take for him to reach the blade before the pair of people reached him, time to draw ... or if he was just better off using the bow as a makeshift weapon.

Instead, the young solider turned and those silver-blue eyes fell on a tall, lanky Ji’val ... and immediately fell lower toward the diminutive, slender woman with black eyes. Even from the shortening distance, Malcym knew he towered over her, even if he himself was a few inches shy of six feet. He was of a similar height with the Ji’val, of course.

But even before the pair reached him, Malcym ... smelled something ... not wrong, but different about the woman. An uninitiated fool soldier might think the other trainee easy meat and the woman easy to subdue and kill without a second thought.

And they would be dead the second they tried anything with the woman. The trainee, bleeding and begging for their mother’s womb ... but the diminutive Gaidin ... there was a darkness there deeper than her eyes.

It was enough for him to place the bottom end of his bow in the ground and bow slightly out of immense respect. And even as he the Ji’val spoke the first words, his eyes caught the flash of her fingers, the expression on her face.

And he laughed. A short laugh of utter amusement at the words spoken.

“Was it the missing of the target or hitting the Warder’s hat that gave it away?” he asked in a joking tone.

That moment of emotion was gone, however, when the Gaidin’s next question came. He sobered up ... and stiffened. His silver-blue gaze focused on her like a lone wolf evaluating a bear.

He wasn’t worried about the other trainee ... his lips were moving, but the Gaidin was doing the “speaking.”

“With respect, Gaidin, there were no trainers available at this hour, and even if I did ask, I did not want to be the center of pity for a Ji’val’s or Warder because I had asked training in a weapon similar to what nearly killed me after ensuring that flaming Indigo Walker back to this blasted place,” Malcym said, a bit too harshly. “Better for me to learn on my own ... “

Of course, he caught the Ji’val’s ever so discrete headshake and slight discomfort. The avoidance of eyes from his mistress. Memories of a few shared conversations, descriptions and recent news of that flaming Ahsa’man, however third-handed it had been ...

“Of flaming bloody ashes, you’re her ...” The words came unbidden and his face went red for a second time. “I mean to say, I didn’t mean to speak ill of that idiot Asha’man ...”

The Ji’val coughed. Malcym blanched and he fell back on instinct.

The bow tucked into his shoulder, the young soldier’s flashed, albeit awkwardly and so out of practice. Nearly six years out of practice to be precise.

Apologies,Lady Warder he signed. Well, it came out as “apologies, she who guards things” as he didn’t know the signs for Warder. I as much idiot as Asha’man. Again, no word for Asha’man but rather “man who wields power.” Of course, the gestures came out slow and awkward.

He sighed at that point, realizing his own subtle nervousness was going to kill him. Instead, he handed the bow out to the Gaidin and muttered, “Just shoot me now and end my misery.” A raised eyebrow from the senior ranking trainee earned him a sharp look.

“What? My sister lacks two-thirds of her hearing, so our mother insisted I, my stepfather and half-brother learn the language of the hands,” he said a little too sharply to the Ji’val. “Apologies if I’m too rusty and slow, but it’s been five years since I saw her. If you want to hold against me, then I respectfully suggest you take five of those arrows and go sit on them point end.”

If there was ever a wrong time to trip over his own tongue while still fueled by anger, it was now. Malcym had a hint he might get away insulting an Asha’man, but one’s translator and aide ...

“Just shoot me.”
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."

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Bella
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Joined: April 14th, 2015, 11:28 pm
PC: Miahala Darrow Sedai
SC: Lysira Viathene Gaidin
TC: Gareth Tomosan Asha'man
QC: Natlya Cade Gaidin
QC: Andraste Alhandra Sedai
Location: New England

Re: Long shots and misfires (attn: Lysira Gaidin)

Post by Bella » July 5th, 2020, 6:21 pm

It was like watching a horse-drawn carriage whose horses were mad out of their minds as they sprinted onward toward the edge of the cliff when there was nothing you could do. Otherwise...watching this young man try to speak and answer questions was something akin to watching a localized but still ridiculous destructive disaster happening in front of you.

He was not, of course, the first in her many long years to become a total idiot in front of her. No, she'd seen many. Sometimes, she was the cause of it...and other times, she was only a witness.

This seemed to be both, perhaps.

However, she was surprised to see his signing. It was rare to find people--outside of the Maiden's--who could speak her language. He wasn't exceedingly talented or smooth about it, but he still got the point across. (It was, unfortunately, far less common for her to find people who called her warder-husband an idiot... That was by far nicer than some of the things even she had called him.)

'No,' she signed simply.

Lysira then paused and gave him a chance to make That Face that people make when getting an answer that wasn't answer enough to understand how to reply. She didn't wait long enough to actually let him reply, since he'd probably screw that up too. 'Shooting you would be to let you out of this too easily. I am going to teach you.'

Jack
"Lord of Chaos"
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Joined: May 25th, 2015, 9:01 pm
PC: Malcym Ashe

Re: Long shots and misfires (attn: Lysira Gaidin)

Post by Jack » July 15th, 2020, 2:32 pm

Malcym blinked at the simple word that the Gaidin signed. It was not one he expected.

In fact, it left him stumped. And then when the Ji'val moved to translate, he shot a very cold look. It was a look an officer gave another soldier, as if to say he understood all the jargon being said by some fool noble trying to act like he knew something important about the battlefield.

Granted, Malcym Ashe had never been an officer, but he had led men into battle. Or rather, been forced to assume command. At best, he was a sergeant in the Murandy army, forced to take the lead in a nasty battle against a rouge element of the Shaido Aiel after his company lieutenant forced an engagement.

It had forced him into a position he was not comfortable with, made him make decisions that cost two more men their lives and led to the safety of some flaming Andorian diplomat. The brass pinned a medal on him; he tossed it in the grave of one of the soldiers who died in that flaming foolish incident.

“Shooting me would be a mercy, Gaidin,” he muttered. “I'll stick my foot in my mouth enough times to be an arse and likely offend your aide in the process.”

Malcym looked at the senior trainee and bowed slightly in respect. “I mean no offense, ser, but my sister is likely as good a speaker as the Lady Lysira … and I need to be more fluent than I am now in order to communicate with her should she visit here.”

He saw the slight, almost impossible tilt in the Gaidin's chin. “She does tend to surprise people, Gaidin,” he murmured. “When I was twenty and encamped on the border of Gheldan, she just popped up as a 'visit' to check up on her older brother because he had not written in a month.”

Perhaps too much information for the Warder, but better to be prepared than surprised. “Our mother was furious, apparently because she slipped out of Lugard without much effort.”

After a few seconds, he murmured, “So, how shall we begin? How do I fire this flaming thing?”
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."

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Bella
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Joined: April 14th, 2015, 11:28 pm
PC: Miahala Darrow Sedai
SC: Lysira Viathene Gaidin
TC: Gareth Tomosan Asha'man
QC: Natlya Cade Gaidin
QC: Andraste Alhandra Sedai
Location: New England

Re: Long shots and misfires (attn: Lysira Gaidin)

Post by Bella » July 18th, 2020, 10:05 pm

Lysira stared at the young man for several long moments that were perfectly easy for her but no doubt would be remarkably awkward and uncomfortable for him. After all, that was the point. Her large, impossibly black eyes stared into his gaze and held it for the whole time without a single blink or any other move.

Finally, she nodded once. Then she looked at her translator and sent him off with a gesture of her head. It would amuse her to make this Drin follow along as best he was able. Having a sister to speak to in the language would do him well to understand her, though she did wonder how fast his eyes moved in time with his brain.

So far, evidence said the two did not have a good working relationship.

Since she had been coming to practice, she already had her bow. It was a beautiful recurve and one of the few things she'd spent more coin on than was precisely necessary for the quality. She wanted the aesthetics too, and it had her herons emblazoned on the grip. After all, she'd worked hard to know her weaponcraft and earn that mark.

Lys nodded for him to follow her back to align with the targets. She positioned herself with her body perpendicular to the target. Her feet were solidly planted but still loose enough to move if needed. Feet just inside of shoulder width apart. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he was watching, then twisted enough to show her hands.

'Is your left or right hand dominant?'

Jack
"Lord of Chaos"
Posts: 470
Joined: May 25th, 2015, 9:01 pm
PC: Malcym Ashe

Re: Long shots and misfires (attn: Lysira Gaidin)

Post by Jack » July 25th, 2020, 2:35 am

If Malcym could find himself to show discomfort more than a shifting of shoulders, he would have done so by now. As it was, he was shifting his shoulders a lot because of the small Gaidin’s gaze.

And the dismissal of the Ji’ did not help matters. Before the man could get out of earshot, Malcym made a polite apology for his comments and muttering of “perhaps a friendly spar to clear the air.”

Light knew the older trainee could clean his clock in the sparring yard, but where Malcym was concerned it might at least clear the veins of any hostile feelings. It worked with boxing matches among fellow soldiers when he served in Muranday’s army.

But the gaze of the woman made him always return his focus to her. It wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t hostile. It simply was ... unnerving. Much like the gaze of his first trainer ... or the Asha’man.

Much more like the Asha’man. Light, but it was no wonder they were married and bonded. Black eyes or gold-green eyes ...the stare could be unnerving.

Things changed when Lysira Gaidin unveiled her bow. Unnerving shifted to ... a whistle of sheer approval. His silver-blue eyes honed in on the recurve bow and for a brief instant, his eyes flashed with a bit of gold.

“Nice craftsmanship,” he murmured, taking a half-step forward in respectful distance. The herons did not escape his notice -- he’d heard the tales of this Gaidin, so it was no surprise -- but the workmanship of the bow alone was exquisite. “Master craftsmanship, solid grip ... fine detail.”

His eyes flickered toward his sword, not five paces away leaning against a bench. The slightly curved blade rested in a leather scabbard, its leather-wrapped antler hilt well worn with use. Like the Gaidin’s bow, the blade was of fine craftsmanship -- lacking herons of course -- but forged by someone who might as well have been employed by a great lord. His mother had given it to him the day he enlisted without ever saying where it came from. And for nearly six years, he had carried it into battle.

Malcym snapped from his thoughts when he caught the Gaidin shifting slightly. His eyes moved quickly enough to catch her hand’s movements.

“Right-handed, Lady Walker,” he said instinctively. And then he blinked and blanched. “I mean Lady Viathene ... Gaidin!”

Light, but his own tongue was his own flaming menace. He took a deep breath, but instinct still took dominance over years of military training.

“Right-handed, Gaidin. You can ask your husband about it since I nearly punched him.”

When he saw the all-too-subtle shift in her expression, something compelled him to speak more.

“When we were at Camden Corelle while escorting Lord Walker home to this place, myself and the Walker armsmen who were escorting the Asha’man stayed in the township’s inn while the Asha’man stayed in the keep,” he murmured. “We good soldiers on our second-to-last night in the township decided to indulge in a few drinks when some drunken fool decided to speak.”

He could remember it all too clearly. The music, the din of farmers, miners and townfolk all mingling together. The large room was full of camaraderie and solace ... and then a big man in simple green rose from his seat and confronted the small escort.

Malcym’s silver-blue eyes were distant. “He was drunk, perhaps way too many brandys... and he said the Asha’man should not have come to Camden Corelle and had no business returning to the Grey Tower. That he sought to challenge its power and take over ... and that he sought to kill the Captain-General of the Green Ajah but was too weak a channeler to do so and should be given over for execution.”

He grimaced slightly at the memory. “I flattened him with one solid right punch and I found two swords at my throat,” he muttered. “My luck I’d punched a Green Asha’man who lived in your son’s flaming town.”

Malcym’s mind raced over the sequence of events, his eyes blinking rapidly. “I was brought before your son’s court, he sat there so ... calmly with his wife ... and ruled both parties were in the wrong. Your husband was in the room ... and he said nothing ... I was told that I was ‘acting in defense of your Asha’man’s honor’ but that I would no longer be welcome so long as I was a soldier of Murandy, that he could not allow someone who harmed an Asha’man in Camden Corelle.”

Malcym had tired to object -- mostly on the ‘your Asha’man’ comment, but he was ushered very quickly out of the hall. It had been an embarrassing moment to say the least.

“Later, the Asha’man called me to his chambers. We were alone except for a young woman, maybe a few years older than me ... a Warder, someone who came from Caemlyn, he said, and was his de facto Gaidin ... she smelled like family in a sense, a niece to him,” he murmured. “His tone was even, no emotion except for disappointment. He demanded what had transpired, I told him, he smirked.

“He told me in no uncertain terms that even if he had attempted to kill said Aes Sedai, he could not wade past the Wards that might protect her, and that even if he got close, she could kill him without much effort because she was much stronger in the One Power. He then called me a foolish child for even submitting to other Asha’man’s insult, and that I was not worthy to serve Murandy or any army as a soldier so long as I remained childish.”

Malcym shuddered at the memory. “I took a swing at him, right hand, on instinct. That Warder didn’t even react enough before I had a knife at my throat. The steel was cold, sharp ... he could have flicked his wrist ... and worst of all, I knew he would have it there.”

His eyes flared back into the present and he muttered,

“He told me I was foolish for letting my emotions getting the better of me. I could tell it took restraint ... could smell it ...before he lowered his knife. Told me that if he could control his instinct, so could I.”

Malcym’s eyes flickered toward his sword and he gripped the bow in his hand before finally mimicking the Garidin’s pose.

“So yes, Gaidin, right-handed,” he murmured.
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."

User avatar
Bella
Female Channeller Representative
Posts: 5615
Joined: April 14th, 2015, 11:28 pm
PC: Miahala Darrow Sedai
SC: Lysira Viathene Gaidin
TC: Gareth Tomosan Asha'man
QC: Natlya Cade Gaidin
QC: Andraste Alhandra Sedai
Location: New England

Re: Long shots and misfires (attn: Lysira Gaidin)

Post by Bella » July 25th, 2020, 5:37 pm

...like this was the first time anyone had tried to take a swing at her husband.

Lysira herself had done so on many an occasion, after all. She listened with her still-impassive expression, although had she been the mouse she once was, her ears would've perked at the idea of a Green Asha'man acting the arse in such a way. She pursed her lips slightly as he rambled...and rambled...and rambled some more. Until finally stopping.

'I'll ignore your right hook for my husband's jaw for the time being,[/]i' she said with a flash of humor in her dark eyes before that faded fast. 'You will need to tell this story to the captain-general, however. She should know that one of her Asha'man was behaving this way.'

Jack
"Lord of Chaos"
Posts: 470
Joined: May 25th, 2015, 9:01 pm
PC: Malcym Ashe

Re: Long shots and misfires (attn: Lysira Gaidin)

Post by Jack » July 25th, 2020, 6:09 pm

Malcym did have a habit of providing more information than was necessary. It was a byproduct of nerves and generally tripping over his own tongue.

Most times, the young soldier could be rather ... curt, especially when it came to patrol and hunting the enemy. And he had few words for nobles and higher-born who showed little respect for those in their care.

But Malcym nearly swore when the Gaidin told him who he would have to address regarding the Green he had knocked out.

“I’d rather take another swing at Jerid Asha’man,” he muttered without thinking. “At least it would be a quick and clean death.”

Of course, those dark eyes were on him. Threatening an Warder’s Asha’man was not the wisest course of action.

“Begging the Gaidin’s pardon, of course -- I’d never take a swing at an Aes Sedai or Asha’man while in these Yards,” he said.”Even if there might be a few prats among them.”

He did not relish a meeting with Miahala Sedai. Some legends were best left to the stories that surrounded them. And those stories told of a strong soldier against the Shadow but also suggested someone with a very ... mercurial temperament.

“Very well, Gaidin, I shall inform the Captain General,” he murmured. “But if I get skewered, burned to a crisp, filleted or suddenly appear without any clothes in the Garden lake, I’m blaming you.”

Not much else he could on that. Malcym wasn’t one for pranks like some of the younger trainees, or even the Soldiers and Novices. And Lysira Viathene was not one to prank.

“So what’s next with the bow? Do I draw, aim and actually hit something this time?”
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."

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Bella
Female Channeller Representative
Posts: 5615
Joined: April 14th, 2015, 11:28 pm
PC: Miahala Darrow Sedai
SC: Lysira Viathene Gaidin
TC: Gareth Tomosan Asha'man
QC: Natlya Cade Gaidin
QC: Andraste Alhandra Sedai
Location: New England

Re: Long shots and misfires (attn: Lysira Gaidin)

Post by Bella » July 31st, 2020, 1:31 am

'I suppose we'll see,' she signed, her expression still stoic and impassive even if she was inwardly amused. Miahala ni Sha'hal t'Darrow was practically a mother to her, so she had no reason to fear the Green...but she wasn't going to tell him that. She didn't want to put him at ease or make him more nervous, and she wasn't sure which result that news would have.

She gestured to his bow and then again demonstrated the proper pose. Perpendicular to the target, left side forward. Feet just less than shoulder width apart. Back straight. Head turned toward the target, bow up and hand on the string but not pulling. She looked over her shoulder and nodded for him to replicate it.

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