May the Odds be Ever in Your Favor: Bandit Style

[Chris]

This whole Gateway to another place thing they had going on was great. Nate couldn’t wait to get away from the Tower for a bit, having a healthy disregard for rules when they were stifling and made a guy get itchy feet. As a Drin he’d been looking forward to travelling more, doing more, fighting more, and now as a Dedicated he was waiting for these opportunities still. Of course, he hadn’t exactly offered himself up for any excursions to the Blight as of yet but there was always time and hey, they should send him somewhere safer first. Like Mayene.

He followed Fiona and the others through the Gateway, grinning all the while. He had a smirk and a wink for Affie of course, it was always good to see her, and he led the way with his boots in his hand because he could see grass, and that meant they weren’t going to actually need proper footwear. Most excellent.

The party was quite large, and it didn’t take long for people to set their various foodstuffs down in one place and spread out as social circles dictated. Nate wasn’t actually there for any one person in particular, but he was there to have a good time, and curiosity got the better of him as he looked at his surroundings. Where in the world were they exactly? He was keen to get a better idea, and so he shoved his feet back into his boots and went in search of a tree to climb. A good, strong, tall tree was just like a ship’s mast, easy peasy right? The Mayener saw a worthy tree and made off to climb it, finding the knots and cracks in the trunk made for easy climbing to the lower branches. From there he began to climb confidently and easily, hauling his weight up as if he was a skinner fellow than he was.

“There we go,” he said, pleased with himself as he began to get higher. But around the canopy area, before he could get a decent look at their immediate area, Nate felt the lighter, smaller branches were not quite so happy to hold a Nate-sized fellow. Preferring to be hale and hearty over broken, Nate reluctantly began to climb down again.

“Burn it all, I couldn’t see a thing!” he announced to nobody in particular as he dropped down from the lower branches and rolled onto the grass. Nate straightened up and dusted off his uniform, looking up and grinning at the nearby figure until he realised he was smiling at a complete stranger. Not in a “I’ve never seen you around the Tower” sort of way, more of a “you are indigenous to this area and I am not, oh dear you don’t look happy” sort of way. The Dedicated gave a big grin and straightened up, but the brown and green clad fellow did not look as thrilled to see Nate, and the dagger in his hand glinted in the sunlight. “Oh, hello there,” he said, stepping backwards with his hands up. “Lovely forest isn’t it? I was just…”

Nate turned and ran around the tree, jumping for the branch and climbing up and onto it. He was about to cling to it with all four limbs like a sloth when the bandit jumped up and grabbed his foot, dragging his weight back down. “Gerroff!” he growled, trying to kick the fellow free. “Blood and ashes- that’s my boot!” He managed to free himself from the bandit, but his poor boot was the price paid. Nate sat up on the thick branch, removed his other boot and threw that down to hit the bandit. “There’s my other one! Bloody no-good boot-stealing thief! If I had my sword…” Nate didn’t have his sword. BUT! He did have Saidin…

But there was no opportunity to make full use of this. The other bandits were closing in, some with rope to hand, and from behind one of these men blew a simple blow dart that hit Nate in the neck. “Ow! What in the- ohhh. I’d better get down before I fall-“ Nate’s eyes rolled and he flopped sideways, but he was caught by three of the men below and, without preamble, tied to a post to carry away. He’d wake up in a short while, that was just to make him a little more co-operative.

“Bloody southerners,” muttered the first bandit.

[Bella]

The Traveling had been intriguing, and everyone began to section off and begin their picnic. It started pleasantly enough, but Andraste found that she quickly grew tired of Gritte's chatter. As soon as the big farmgirl was distracted by one of the other people in the gathering, the Kandori woman abandoned her food and drink and slipped away to find some quiet.

It did occur to her that if she was gone for too long, they might return to the Tower without her...but it wasn't easy to figure out how she actually felt about.

The scenery was idyllic, and it was a very nice change from the Grey Tower. Although she enjoyed the gardens, this was better. There was just more...air here. Standing in the quiet, she looked around and took a long, deep breath. The air tasted sweet as it filled her lungs and smiled, rolling her shoulders and feeling them start to relax.

For a moment, at least.

A branch snapped.

She spun around and saw a man trying to sneak up on her. He looked about as embarrassed for the sound as she was scared. How far away from the group had she gotten. Andra contemplated shouting, but decided to just run. She bolted. Not that she had ever been much of a runner, but the adrenaline was coursing hard.

Sprinting as fast as she could, she ran...head first into another man. With a swallowed gasp that sounded like a squeak, she stumbled back several steps. Preparing to run again.

Large, hairy arms wrapped around her and pinned her arms to her side. "Let me go!" she shrieked with more ferocity than one might have expected from someone her size. She flailed and kicked, throwing her weight around and bouncing off the ground. The man held tight, but she gave him a hard time of it.

At one point, the other man tried to grab her legs. She broke his nose with the heel of her boot. He cursed with a great deal of creativity as blood spurted out. The man holding her growled as she continue to buck against him, stamping her foot down hair on his. He shouted and didn't let go, but loosened enough for her to bite his arm and make it bleed.

This time, he let her go. Her feet touched the ground and she took off again, sprinting for the trees. When she saw another man before her, she swerved to the right and kept running.

Then something hit her in the back. Some idle part of her mind said it was a rock. It knocked her forward enough to hit the ground. She pushed herself up, spitting leaves and dirt. But she dug her nails into the ground to run again...

...only to be forcibly hauled up.

Something hard hit her on the back of the head. The last thought that went through her mind before she blacked out was, Why didn't I use Saidar?

Once unconscious, she was thrown over one man's shoulder--the third one who she hadn't managed to make bleed--and carried back to their little camp. She was unceremoniously dropped at the feet of the others who had been captured, her hands tied in front of her before she could even wake. Just in case.

[Elan]

Jaren

The day was lovely. The forest — they were clearly somewhere in Andor, which made sense considering who had decided on the location — was lovely, the sunshine was lovely, the wine was lovely, Nasrin was lovely… It had been a while since Jaren had had the chance to stroll with a pretty girl on his arm, and usually — in his old life — he might have had an ulterior motive but now he found that simply walking through the forest and talking was perfectly good. Maybe it was because of Nasrin’s age — he still hadn’t asked how old she was precisely but she had to be roughly ten years younger than him — or maybe it was he who was growing up.

He wasn’t sure the last thought was particularly flattering to his past self.

Nasrin was good company. She might not have had much in the way of formal education prior to coming to the Grey Tower, but she was clearly intelligent and had a sense of humour and Jaren enjoyed chatting with her.

It was in the middle of an amusing anecdote from his travels — it involved a vintner’s identical twin daughters and an incident with the town guard — when he suddenly realised he couldn’t hear the chatter of the rest of the group anymore. They must have strayed further from the others than he’d realised, and he was just about to suggest they turn back when they heard the first scream.

“Did you hear that?” Jaren asked, redundantly because it was obvious that the Novice had heard it too. He had no time to decide how to react, however, because then there were three men out of nowhere, big men with swords or long knives. There was no time to think, no time to come up with a strategy. “Nasrin, RUN!” he shouted as he launched himself at the nearest of the men, hoping to delay them enough that the girl could get away. The Void, a part of his mind kept shouting at him; grasp saidin while you still can you fool! But the Void refused to come to him, much less the Power; he was too agitated, too caught off guard, too afraid, too angry at himself for letting this happen.

The impact sent both the attacker and himself falling to the ground; Jaren was neither big nor heavy but the brute must have not been expecting him to stand his ground and he’d been able to catch one of them by surprise. Of course, that only meant he was leaving himself vulnerable to the brute’s buddies, who descended upon him like a swarm of locusts, but if that meant Nasrin could get away and get help, or help the others if they’d been attacked as well, it would have been worth it—

Somewhere out of his line of sight, he could hear the Novice cussing like a sailor, accompanied by the sounds of struggle, and with a sinking feeling he knew there was no such luck.

Spoiler: show

Locke lemme know if you want me to change anything~

[Bella]

Andraste groaned as consciousness seeped back into her brain.

Prying open her eyes, she saw the world swimming all around her and she shut them again in an instant. Her stomach did a pair of pirouettes and she resisted the urge to let the body organ crawl out of her mouth. She breathed through her nose slowly until the feeling passed, and once it had, she was better able to take stock.

She knew she was laying down. She knew she was on her side. She could feel her hands tied together in front of her, and the rope was rough against her skin. It felt like the rope they used to tie things to their wagon with.

After a few moments, she tried opening her eyes again. The world didn't swim as badly as before, and it stopped after a couple of moments so she was able to keep them open. And as she did, she remembered what had gotten her here. She saw those men, and many others besides--women too--surrounding the clearing she was laying in.

Andra pushed herself up to a sitting position as quietly as she could, stifling a grunt and again fighting against her stomach. Then she realized she wasn't alone and looked at fellow Tower denizens. "Are...are you guys okay?" she asked in a whisper. That was a dumb question and she knew it. Of course none of them were okay. But she had to ask. "Are you hurt?"

[Chris]

Ahoy, Nate By the time Nate came to, he wasn't really sure of his whereabouts, only that he was in a world of trouble with no real way of getting out of it. Eyes closed, he felt his surroundings as much as possible - which was to say, not a great deal of information.

He was tied by his hands and his feet to a thick pole, dangling below it like a prized pig. He could feel the rope cutting into his hands, blocking the circulation there, and likewise his feet seemed to have lost all feeling as well - not to mention, he had no boots. The Dedicated grunted and ignored the rolling sensation in his stomach long enough to open his eyes, blinking at the bright light before turning his head to look to and fro. Trees, trees and more trees, but there were small tents pitched up here and there, and a campfire close by. From his upside down position that was all he could really make out, as much of his view was obscured by the large rock on which that end of his pole lay.

"Hey boys, the big guy's awake!" one of the bandits exclaimed, slapping a hand on the pole and making it wobble.

There was a generally pleased ruckus from around Nate, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Where's everyone else? was the first thing that came to mind. Did these trolloc-kissing asses get them as well? He tried to wriggle his fingers for all the good it would do, but of course to no avail. This was not good. Nate was in no position to do anything to help if he was hanging there like a prized animal ready to be eaten. "Put me down or I'll make you wish you'd... done it..." Nate thought he was sounding bold and tough, but it came out as less of a deep voiced order, more of a nervous quiver.

"Oh ho, the lummox has a mouth! Better let him and his friends go," said one of the bandits, and another slap to the pole had Nate wobbling, his stomach not enjoying the sensation at all.

Nate took a deep breath, willing his stomach to settle and his nerves to go with it. He shoved it all into the void, willing himself to a point where he could seize Saidin.

Seize it for what? He was stuck where he was. The Dedicated needed his hands for any weaves he had in mind, but there had to be something, anything, he could do. Right? Nate lifted his head to look up at the sky, clouds hanging overhead. Hrmmm. He'd never really looked higher than the ground before, finding that he enjoyed tossing the earth around and setting things on fire, but maybe... just maybe. The man concentrated, feeling carefully with threads of Air and Fire, grinning a little to himself as he found an amateur but existing link with the clouds above. Now it was just a matter of hitting the right people.

Air and Fire woven together made Nate's hair almost stand on end, the electricity in the sky was palpable. A nearby tree took the hit as a blast of lightning crashed into it, setting it ablaze. I missed! Fumbling, Nate changed his weaves, going for what he knew better. Fire and Water, working them together but also using the natural weather, finding no end of moisture he could manipulate... no static this time, no shocks, just ice cold rain, freezing as it fell from the sky and hitting whoever it could with sharp jagged points like needles. It was more irritating than painful, as Nate discovered when he hit himself, but the brief flurry was a bit of a distraction and it definitely made the hanging Dedicated feel better.

[Bella]

Lightning. The flurry of activity to follow...

If there had been any fuzziness left in her consciousness, it was gone now. And then...freezing rain. She shivered instantly as the cloud dropped upon herself and the other captives, but she now knew for sure that the One Power was at work. Since she sensed nothing, it had to be one of the two young men of the Tower trapped with them.

Andra felt adrenaline flood her body with such intensity, she could taste the bitter tang on her tongue. Yet with it, she embraced Saidar like she should have done earlier. You might not be in this mess now!

Just ahead of her, she could see the Dedicated hanging from the pole. The only thing missing was the fire and the spit... Squinting in the rain, she sat up straighter and lifted her hands. Fortunately for her, her hands had been tied in front of her. The bonds were enough to keep her from being entirely mobile, but loose enough to move them somewhat.

She moved her hands as she summoned the threads of the Power. Instinct and fear moved her more than anything, because she knew that things could get much...much worse if she did nothing. She took everything she had learned so far and did the best she could to grasp Air, and it molded to her will easily. It was one of her easier elements.

Forming it with as sharp an edge as she could manage, she sent a quick prayer to the Light that this would work as she threw it forward and sliced through the pole holding the Dedicated. It was sliced in two and and dropped him down, hopefully loosening his bonds in the process since she could not reach those.

That level of precision was not hers. Maybe in time, but not know...

The bandits were scattering now, some trying to get out of the rain while others just tried to get a way. A few tried to look for who to stop and eyes fell on Andra. Her gestures made it obvious she was up to something. Her came for her at a run but she pulled her Air back to her and then sent it full force into him.

A heavy column hit him in the chest and sent him flying backwards off his feet. He collided with a tree trunk, but it was only a moment before another noticed her.

Panic mingled with the adrenaline in her system, and she had flashes of Bel's body hitting the ground, and the sound of Chandra's neck and what she felt then... Tears filled her eyes as she sent a spear of Air straight through him. Blood spurted from the wound now located in his upper shoulder from her unaimed shot.

There were many of them...

She shivered as the rain had soaked through her dress already. After all, it had been a comfortable and warm day when they came here, and now the frigid water had permeated straight through to her skin. Clenching her teeth, she tried to ignore the feeling of that and focus on what was going on around her.

The first man was coming at her again, until she set those same Air spears through his ankles and sent him shouting to the ground...

[Elan]

Jaren

Jaren was conscious — sort of — when he was dragged to the camp, arms twisted behind his back and dazed enough that there was not much of a fight in him. His hands and feet were bound and he was dumped unceremoniously on the ground, where he lay trying to get his bearings—

—until the commotion broke out all around. He tried to twist around enough to see what was going on but it was all behind his back and his body was not cooperating at full capacity—

And now there was rain? Rain better suited to the late stages of autumn, in these parts of the world? Jaren held his breath, focusing… and yes, now he could feel the saidin that had gone into changing the weather. Despite the bruises and aches, he smiled. Then another part of his thought process caught up and he hoped this was one —or preferably several — of his companions from the picnic, not a rescue party.

The freezing rain, Jaren observed, had another effect besides sending the bandit camp into chaos; it banished the lingering fog from his mind and the sluggishness from his body. A quick assessment of the situation told him that he was still tied up, hands behind his back, but he might be able to move them enough to channel. For the first time ever he was glad that he’d not made more of an effort to copy Jaryd’s intricate gestures while learning to channel; he was simply not as physically agile by nature, but now it might save his life.

Stark necessity made slipping into the Void almost surprisingly easy, not that he really felt the surprise wrapped in the Void. Saidin came at his command, and…

And what? He still couldn’t see the action, damn it! Swearing softly under his breath, he twisted his body enough that he could see the rope binding his feet. A thin blade of Air sliced through the coarse ropes, freeing his legs. He wished he could do the same to his hands but operating behind his back was too risky, he might end up cutting himself in the process and a fat lot of good that would do. At least with his legs free, he could finally turn to see what was happening.

He brought up a shield of Air just in time to deflect a spiked club descending towards his head at an alarming speed. He used the same shield to push the attacker over to give himself a moment to think. Andraste was somewhere to his right, holding her own for the moment. The Dedicated — what was his name again? no, that wasn’t important right now — seemed to be managing as well—

Nasrin! Where is Nasrin? There… Jaren struggled up to his feet and stumbled over to where the Novice was tied up. He fell to his knees next to her. “Nasrin? Can you hear me, are you alright?” he spoke in a low voice, hoping the bandits were too occupied with Andraste and the Dedicated to take notice of him. “I’m going to cut your ropes, be still.” A thin blade of Air did the trick again, freeing the Novice. “Can you untie my hands?”

[Locke]

Nasrin

Her ribs ached. He wrists and ankles felt raw. And her mouth, forced open by a makeshift gag tasted like year old sour sweat. She didn’t dare even moan in pain. Last time she had even made a sound she had taken a bandit’s boot to the gut. Maybe they have a point, Nas thought tears running freely with her face shoved into the dirt, I did bite one of them. She managed a small smile around her gag at the memory of the man’s anguished howls. They had hurt Jaren. She’d find a way to make them pay. He belonged to her, not them. Well he would… maybe… one day. First she needed to worry about getting out of here. She couldn’t see much of anything at all from her current position. Her white dress was filthy and covered in grime, but at least these louts had let her keep it.

She’d listened as they talked about what to do with the captives. The men joked about what they’d do to their captives. The wanton cruelty made her stomach turn. For a moment, she was trapped below decks with a shaking knife in her hand and a hulking sailor standing above her.

Deep breaths. A rose unfolding. A petal in a river. Nasrin reached out and pulled the warmth of Saidar into and around her. Fear was quickly drowned by the warm swelling ecstasy of the Power. She couldn’t do much face down in the mud, but at least she had the source. An opportunity would present itself.

Eventually one did. It started with strange and unseasonable freezing rain and a crack of lightning. The sound of shouting and screaming bandits and the feel of a woman channeling told her different. This was there moment. She grinned as best she could around her gag. The grin turned into a snarl as somebody knelt next to her and reached for her. She immediately began to thrash. She wouldn’t make it easy for them.

”Nasrin? Can you hear me?” the familiar voice came in a whisper of fear and excitement.

“Jaren!” The exclamation was lost in her gag.

The Soldier did something with the Power and her bonds fell away from her wrists. Rolling over onto her back she sat up. Battered and bruised, golden curls tragically covered in grime, Jaren still looked like prince from a gleeman’s tale. She reached out and untied the ropes around his wrists, wincing at the red rings they’d left. After untying the gag, Nasrin spat it free. They had dared to hurt him. Enraged, she began a weave of Fire and Air. The weave dissipated as she confronted the reality of what such an attack would mean. Screaming men, charred flesh, leather armor fused to skin. It was almost too much to bare. Once she’d thrown a roofing tile at a woman knocking her out. It had been the most harm she’d ever done, before that she’d never been in more than a fist fight. She couldn’t kill these men. No matter how much she knew they deserved it. It felt shameful and almost cowardly, but she would have to find another way to help.

Forming a new weave, Nasrin wove Water and Air in a way that seemed almost natural. The threads of Power seemed to knot together of their own accord. The temperature seemed to be steadily dropping and thanks to the chilly rain, the air was already saturated with moisture. A thick fog began to coalesce in the clearing and spread deeper into the woods. She didn’t have the finesse to tell the fog where to go, but it did hide them. She could see Jaren, and some vague shapes that might have been the others. Taking his hand, she ran towards the other shapes, hoping they weren’t bandits.

[Bella]

Andraste didn't want to kill anyone. She knew these were terrible people and they by rights deserved whatever they got, but she found an innate aversion to consciously killing anyone. As many times as she had dreamed of killing that woman and the men who killed Belenus and Chandra, these bandits were not them.

She could not make herself do it.

Then, of course, came the fog. The haze slid out around the camp and onward to the forest, adding another level of misery to that which had already been visited upon them: kidnapping, being tied up, freezing rain, and now fog.

For some reason, her feet were not tied. So, using her bound hands, she pushed herself up to her feet. Spinning, she knew that there were still bandits around her, but it was harder to see them. The upside, of course, was that it would be harder for them to see her. Sucking in a cold, wet breath, she turned and sought out...something.

From the mist came a fast-moving, bulky figure that slammed into her from the side. The body was obviously a man, but he didn't get his arms around her so all that happened was she was tossed back to the ground a little further than where she'd been. He ended up on the ground as well, and she wondered if he'd been aiming for her or just running through the melee.

She pushed back with her feet to increase the distance between them as she got to his feet and loomed over her. Anger and panic surged in equal measures as she stared up at him.

"You're doing this!" he growled, raising the knife in his hand as he came towards her.

"No!" she screamed, shoving her hands before her. Her desperation took control and she pulled Air and Fire together in a single stream. Fire was not strong for her, but she pulled just enough for the lightning bolt that sprang up between the earth and the sky. It didn't hit him directly but so close that he was thrown, smoking faintly, through the air.

Shaking with both the moment and the cold, she was trying to get herself back to her feet when...

...the feet of a tall, running Novice tripped over her in the haze.

As a small pile of Novice whites and dark limbs formed on the ground, Andra couldn't even find it in herself to be upset. She was just glad for a friend among all these foes! "Oh!" she exclaimed with relief, still extricating herself from the other.

[Chris]

Spoiler alert: It's Nate Was Nate shivering because it was cold, or because the Power was being used by women nearby? The Dedicated supposed it was a mix of the two, and just as he was pondering his next move there was a sudden shift in the world around him thanks to his pole being cut clean in half. Nate tumbled to the floor with the remains of the thick wood still tied to his hands and feet, but the fall had helped him pry free from the ropes at his feet.

“Bloody ashes!” he grumped as he got to his feet, kicking the rope away and finding a not insignificant length was still connected via the ropes around his wrists. Nate still held Saidin throughout this encounter and he looked down to remove the ropes with Air, but then he was rudely interrupted by a bandit of no importance that threw himself into Nate. Reflexively Nate brought his hands up and thudded the bandit on the head, then used Air to slice the ropes and free himself. The length of wood was sturdy and thick, a perfect makeshift weapon. The temporary club, he held ready as he looked around to get his bearings and found, well, it was rather foggy.

Right then. Where was everyone? It was impossible to tell, the mist was a great defence but it did complicate matters. The Dedicated huffed and looked at the nearby rock, climbing on up to get a better look at what was going on. This made little difference as well, all he could see was the mist and the brief crackle of lightning overhead which had to be someone from their little group… I have to help them, he thought to himself, making a face at the daunting task before him. The attention was sporadic with everyone attacking his friends, and the only way to resolve this was to draw attention to himself. Well! Life was a story and Nate was the main character, so he was okay with this.

Fire was always an easy weave for Nate, and Fire and Spirit amplified his voice as he called out to the crowd. “You wanna mess with the Grey Tower?” he asked, loud and authoritative. “Then you’re messing with the wrong people! I’ll take you all on, and I don’t even need Saidin to do it!” Of course, he was certainly going to use Saidin, he wasn’t a moron and these bandits deserved it.

Nate was not a natural with the weather, but right then it was the only thing he could use to his advantage. He’d never “felt the earth” as some of his counterparts did, and it was too dangerous to use battle weaves in such fog. The Mayener drew as much Saidin as he could and used Air and Water and Fire and Air, the four elements swirling around him to catch the mist in a spiral with him in the centre. Let them see where he was. Let them come for him, and he would strike them down. The clearing became more visible around him, and although he couldn’t see any of his friends Nate could see some of the bandits who had been running around in the confusion, and were now making their way towards him.

Nate weaved more water and fire into the air, the mist turning painfully cold… colder… and colder. He swirled the air around the nearest bandit, the freezing air clinging to their skin and causing them to screech with pain. When they fell he moved onto the other, splitting his weaves to hit two targets at once. He was a Dedicated, a weapon of the Tower, and he was going to do whatever it took to keep his friends safe. He split his weaves into three, dropping the wood in his hands as his concentration went on manipulating the air in three ways, a spiral of frozen death.

Sweat rolled down his face in spite of the cold, and eventually Nate had to return to just the one weave. Lightning called from the sky, fire and air to summon the violent electricity that crashed to the earth and exploded with surprising precision at the feet of one of the bandits. Nate moved from target to target, hearing nothing but the roar of the power in his ears as he attacked.

Those who thought to stop Nate eventually found the sense to turn tail and run instead. Nate was a force of nature, and there was no mercy as he struck down those who were running. They would have hurt Nate before, and they were getting exactly what they deserved. Was it going too far? In the roar of the void Nate didn’t worry about this all that much. He was choosing between himself and the bandits, so it was inevitable that they would lose to his wrath; it was practically written into the pattern.

But channelling for too long, with too much Saidin, has its consequences. Nate’s aim with the lightning was less precise and controlled, arcs of energy not quite hitting the right target, or aiming for the nearby tall trees. Lightning always opts to take the shortest route from cloud to ground, and when you have a man in a clearing standing atop a tall rock…

… well he wasn’t there for very long as he was thrown off and to the ground, a smoking black patch with his footprints left where he once stood. The mist slowed down, the lightning stopped, and Nate was still.