The sell sword had many stories, but the one in which he escaped the grasp of an angry Asha’man remained his favorite. He told it a little differently than it had occurred, of course. Who needed to know that a girl with a stick had saved his life, or that he had only escaped Seth because he had been distracted by a wounded giant of a boy? No one, that’s who. In Dax’s version, he won at dice, then had to face the Asha’man in order to save the fairest maid in the tavern, and that suited him just fine.
That aside, in one thing at least Dakson Torellion could look another in the eye and speak the Light’s blessed truth: He was no Darkfriend. The Whitecloaks didn’t care for the truth, however, only confessions. Bedding a Captain’s daughter had seemed a good idea at the time…that is, until he had found himself fleeing half-naked into the night, clutching his boots in one hand and his sword in another. They had followed him for days, and only a well-placed stream had finally gotten them off his trail.
His face was known now, however. He had nearly been killed at the next village he entered looking for food, and the merchants in Amadicia and Ghealdan had been unwilling to hire him. His notoriety had spread, carried by white-winged carrion, until he had found it impossible to find work or shelter anywhere in the lands where the Children held sway. Then they had placed a bounty on his head, and even in other lands life grew dangerous.
The only place he could think of where his background might not be overly questioned, the bounty would be of no import, and he might even be protected from efforts to do so anyway, was the Grey Tower. He supposed his return was inevitable. Lady luck had a twisted sense of humor and a way of coming back to hold him to comments he had not intended to make. I’m on my way to the Grey Tower to become a Warder. He had said that, or something like it, that night- an easy lie to explain his presence without question so he could escape. The irony was so sweet it hurt his teeth.
Adjusting his sword, he set himself a leisurely pace as he approached the city. Although the Tower would give him safety and free food, he was not overly-anxious to sign away his freedom to acquire it. By the time he arrived at the gates of the Grey Tower, the sun stood only a few fingerwidths over the horizon, and the sky had taken on a deep golden hue.
“I am here to train with the Warders,” he told a man at the gate. The man grunted, then gave him directions to the office of the Mistress of Training. Dax paused at that. He would be trained by a woman? He had seen female fighters in his day, but balked at being taught by them. After several long moments of arguing with himself, the benefits of safety outweighed the discomfort of being led by a woman; the Tairen turned in the direction given.
A few long minutes later, he found himself in an area that was comfortably familiar. Even this late in the day men and boys –and women yes- were practicing in the fields, and the familiar smells of sweat, leather, steel, and horse filled the air. Soon after that, he located the office he was supposed to go to.
He knocked twice, then settled in a chair to wait for a response.
OOC: So...I don't know how long it's been since the tavern incident for Ubriel, but that's how long Dax has been doing his own boogie. He is now here for the first time to become a Drin....and I am so, so amused that Bree is the MoT......
It should be amusing to see if either or both can place the other and if they choose to disclose the recognition. I think it has been at least two years and possibly a bit longer since that night for Ubriel. She has undergone ALOT since then.
Ubriel is going to give him the benefit of the doubt but she has her eye on him. I gave you a range of standard questions to answer. Are you hoping for the 6+ post on this thread?