| OOC: For the sake of continuity, I'm assuming this is taking place at the same time, if not a day before Dish and Dishes. Nobody knows about any murdered novices yet. |
Felessan stood in the Tower courtyard just before dawn. Torches still burned and the chill of the previous night had not faded. He wondered how many students would show up this morning. Thirty forest green packs stuffed with about forty pounds of gear each sat on the dew slicked cobbles. He did not think he would need more than twenty. About 28 pounds of the contents of each ruck was dedicated to food and water. The rest contained survival gear such as tarps, cook pot, whet stones, and a hatchet. They would only be camping for a night but the weight was all part of the training exercise. He had organized this ruck march two weeks ago and placed a signup sheet outside the Warder’s Mess. If nobody signed up, he was considering take his ruck, march out into the city and begin visiting taverns then bivouac for the night in one of the city’s parks until the hangover faded. Thankfully his idle fancy would remain just that Drin’far’ji and Ji’alantin, were trudging into the courtyard wiping sleep from their eyes. In Felessan’s opinion they had a pretty choice deal. All the students who had signed up had two days off class. They would however use those days on an all ruck march through the city to a spot in the mountains where they would camp. They would march back on the following morning. Wondering around in the woods with a heavy pack and a jaunty marching toon sounded almost as fun as drinking in a tavern with a raucous drinking toon. It wasn’t his fault these youths hadn’t learned how to wake up on the drop of a crown. He watched the faces of the students. Several Ji seemed to be waking up now. A few Drin seemed to be quite alert as well, they had probably been soldiers before coming to the Tower.
He turned to address the waiting students, “Grab a ruck and fall in you goat kissers. Don’t bloody shove, there are enough bags for everybody.” Once the students were formed into lines with their rucks, he had them place them at their feet and lead them through some calisthenics and stretches. Once they finished their stretches, he called to them, “Rucks on your back! Onwards through the gates, move out!” He donned his own ruck, the familiar weight settling in place and set off at a jog till he reached the front of the column and slowed to a brisk walk. They would change pace throughout the day so they, but most likely they wouldn’t move faster than a quick trot, they weren’t Aielmen. He thought he had seen that Aiel Drin, though.
The coumn of students passed through the gates into the city of Hama Valon. The city was just beginning to stir in the predawn light. Shop keepers were sweeping out their stores, porters were making deliveries, and the occasional carriage passed. The crisp mountain air had blown away the city’s stink from the previous day and it was early yet. As he marched, Felessan turned back to look at his column of students. Twenty-seven had decided to join the march. Each was carrying what they considered a full combat load out. He had gotten permission from the Master of Training to allow them to carry live weapons on this expedition. He figured, if they were leaving the Tower grounds, they should be armed. Especially in the wake of some of the odder rumors circulating at the tower. The old soldier grunted to himself, he hated cities in the morning. Cities should be full of noise and bustle not the occasional creek and clatter of wagon in the gloom. He called out to the students, “Marching in silence sucks, who has a good Jody? A marching cadence. The cruder the better.” He let out a laugh and waited for a student to respond to his challenge. If not, he had a few good ones that would make these spoiled lordlings blush.
Terric
He turned to address the waiting students, “Grab a ruck and fall in you goat kissers. Don’t bloody shove, there are enough bags for everybody.” Once the students were formed into lines with their rucks, he had them place them at their feet and lead them through some calisthenics and stretches. Once they finished their stretches, he called to them, “Rucks on your back! Onwards through the gates, move out!” He donned his own ruck, the familiar weight settling in place and set off at a jog till he reached the front of the column and slowed to a brisk walk. They would change pace throughout the day so they, but most likely they wouldn’t move faster than a quick trot, they weren’t Aielmen. He thought he had seen that Aiel Drin, though.
The coumn of students passed through the gates into the city of Hama Valon. The city was just beginning to stir in the predawn light. Shop keepers were sweeping out their stores, porters were making deliveries, and the occasional carriage passed. The crisp mountain air had blown away the city’s stink from the previous day and it was early yet. As he marched, Felessan turned back to look at his column of students. Twenty-seven had decided to join the march. Each was carrying what they considered a full combat load out. He had gotten permission from the Master of Training to allow them to carry live weapons on this expedition. He figured, if they were leaving the Tower grounds, they should be armed. Especially in the wake of some of the odder rumors circulating at the tower. The old soldier grunted to himself, he hated cities in the morning. Cities should be full of noise and bustle not the occasional creek and clatter of wagon in the gloom. He called out to the students, “Marching in silence sucks, who has a good Jody? A marching cadence. The cruder the better.” He let out a laugh and waited for a student to respond to his challenge. If not, he had a few good ones that would make these spoiled lordlings blush.
Terric was sure the armorers were tired of him. Three live spears. That’s how many spears he had asked them to cut the shafts on. Last time it has been a single practice spear and they grudgingly agreed. This time, he came armed with a note from Felessan Solonne. They had done the job but they weren’t happy. Now, a morning after the fact, Terric stood in shallow ranks with twenty of his fellow students, ruck sack on his back, buckler on his arm, spears shoved through the straps on his bag and bow in hand. He wasn’t particularly spectacular with a bow, but he was of the opinion that if they were attacked on the march, a bow would serve him better. A broad head arrow to the chest was a good deterrent for any Wetlander trying to get close enough to stick him with a sword.
Gaval Hanania stood next to him in formation. He was surprised the former Saldaen cavalry man had decided to come on this march. But there he was, standing straight, sheathed scimitar hanging from his belt, and mustaches oiled. Terric couldn’t help imagining that this was how his friend had looked before coming to the Tower, mounted and ready to ride off and patrol the Blight. Terric knew he felt more like his old self now than he had in a while. This excursion would be quite welcome. The inside of the tower was beginning to feel like a lion’s den.
His introspection was put on hold as Felessan Solonne ordered the column to move. They off through the gates at a brisk walk. This was a pace an Aielman could keep up indefinitely, even fully geared. He considered catching a few minutes of sleep on the march but nobody else around him was trained for that. Back in the three fold land, if an algai’d’siswai needed to rest on the march, he would ask his spear brother to let him hold onto his pack. He would let himself fall into a shallow sort of trance and the other man would guide him around obstacles while his brother’s feet moved absently. It didn’t replace sleep by a long shot but it did help stave off fatigue.
The column hadn’t traveled more than two city blocks when Felessan Solonne turned to them and shouted, “Marching in silence sucks, who has a good Jody? A marching cadence. The cruder the better.”
So the Gaidin wanted marching songs? Terric knew a few good battle songs. Those were the only songs Aielmen song. He decided he’d listen to the Wetlanders’ songs before offering one of his own.
Gaval Hanania stood next to him in formation. He was surprised the former Saldaen cavalry man had decided to come on this march. But there he was, standing straight, sheathed scimitar hanging from his belt, and mustaches oiled. Terric couldn’t help imagining that this was how his friend had looked before coming to the Tower, mounted and ready to ride off and patrol the Blight. Terric knew he felt more like his old self now than he had in a while. This excursion would be quite welcome. The inside of the tower was beginning to feel like a lion’s den.
His introspection was put on hold as Felessan Solonne ordered the column to move. They off through the gates at a brisk walk. This was a pace an Aielman could keep up indefinitely, even fully geared. He considered catching a few minutes of sleep on the march but nobody else around him was trained for that. Back in the three fold land, if an algai’d’siswai needed to rest on the march, he would ask his spear brother to let him hold onto his pack. He would let himself fall into a shallow sort of trance and the other man would guide him around obstacles while his brother’s feet moved absently. It didn’t replace sleep by a long shot but it did help stave off fatigue.
The column hadn’t traveled more than two city blocks when Felessan Solonne turned to them and shouted, “Marching in silence sucks, who has a good Jody? A marching cadence. The cruder the better.”
So the Gaidin wanted marching songs? Terric knew a few good battle songs. Those were the only songs Aielmen song. He decided he’d listen to the Wetlanders’ songs before offering one of his own.
