Shift 1: Commandos and Ravagers

[Chris]

Murdock Mather, Keeper of the Archives
15th day of Danu - very early morning

It was far too early for this nonsense. Or too late, if you were a night owl. Either way, it was dark outside and cold in the Halls. The shiver down his arms told Murdock he should have been more prepared for this, but how did one prepare for a False Dragon? So in the dim light, with the Hall hastily assembled, Murdock walked slowly with his stick in one hand and his staff in the other. Neat uniform, neat hair, neatly neutral expression, but his tone was ever so slightly bored. "He comes, the M'Hael, he comes, all rise etc..." of course everyone had to wait for Murdock to actually make the walk, and if he took slightly longer because he was tired and needed a stick, well, so be it.

The worst part about these impromptu meetings was that he was expected to stand near the M'Hael for an extended length of time, which he could do - he simply didn't like it. Making an old man suffer was typical Cairhienin behaviour.

Speaking of - the M'Hael was all business as he strode in, looking fresh and ready for conflict. There was a challenge in his eyes and he swept his gaze over the Hall and its attendees as if any of them could be the False Dragon Murdock had been hearing about. He moved to the podium and gestured for everyone to sit, but he was speaking before bottoms were perched on seats.

"The Grey Ajah has reported back on the activities of the False Dragon taking refuge in the rubble of the White Tower." He spoke calmly, loudly, confidently. "As of this evening, the whole of Tar Valon has been closed off to outsiders. Their False Dragon, Zeig Zaigar as he has called himself, has declared sovereign rule over the entirety of the island. He is letting people leave, but he is not letting them enter. This is what we know:

He is in posession of a powerful ter'angreal that is offering him some sort of invulnerability. It is located in the lower levels of what was the White Tower, and is currently guarded by a retinue of rogue channellers. Whilst we do not know the specifics of what the ter'angreal does, it seems that Zeig is unable to be targetted directly by Saidin. Saidar is unconfirmed at this time.

He has taken one of the larger buildings still standing near the Tower grounds as his base of operations. Here he has a personal guard known colloquially as the Spices. They are the barrier between outsiders and Zeig - and if they are dealt with, access to the False Dragon should be made easier. From what I can tell they are either 4 or 5 of Zeig's handpicked fighters who will defend the building fiercely.

There is also a building closed off to all but the False Dragon and some of his researchers. We do not know what is inside, but there have been reports of powerful channelling within.

The Grey were able to leave, but not without casualties. At this time Travelling is restricted in the White Tower grounds, but not the broader city itself. As long as one does not get caught, that is."

Feroce paused and looked over the rest of the room to see how they responded. Stony gazes from everyone. This was serious business, after all. So serious were these channellers that they made Ravak look like he blended in. "We will be handling this as per the bylaws of the Grey Tower under heading 25.7 - False Dragons, last amended by the Red Ajah but three years past. As is their right, the Red Ajah will have the final say on the outcome of our infiltration..." here the former Grey smirked a little, "... but that would be contingent on them reaching Zeig Zaigar first.

I want each Ajah to form their own arm of this operation. We are going to liberate Tar Valon from the False Dragon and bring him to justice in whatever form that happens to take. I would prefer him alive." Feroce swept a hand at the door, "inform your Ajahs and implement your actions immediately. Once we have handled this False Dragon, I will receive a full report of your Ajah's participation and your efforts will be recognised accordingly."

The Hall is going to report to the Head of their Ajah about the takeover of Tar Valon. Each Ajah is being strongly encouraged to form their own battle plans, though the unspoken expectation is they will possibly work together and do different things concurrently. Or not. That's up to you! Note that whilst each Ajah may have its own plan, mileage may vary and we do not need to write about what every Ajah gets up to. Also, your character does not need to be of that particular Ajah in order to go along with them - for example, Nate is a Blue but he might be more likely to go with the Reds. Feel free to start plotting, grouping, and breaking into Tar Valon! Broad activity suggestions (not everything needs to be done, these are simply springboards for your writing): - Deal with the ter'angreal - Liaise with the rogue channellers in whatever fashion desired - Handle the Spice Guys and Girls - Find and explore the mystery building - Regain control of the bridges in and out of Tar Valon - Infiltrate the False Dragon's building directly - ter'angreal dealt with or not??!! - Anything else you want to do in the city Trainees - please see Shift 2 for how you can get involved. Final note - I will handle the next Paradigm Shift when particular conditions are met in writing threads. Please feel free to go as big or extreme as you like. Make decisions on the nature of the Spices, where/what the Ter'angreal does, or anything like that. I am happy to fill on those blanks but I also encourage and welcome some creative liberties in these areas. But then I am also a sucker for a plot twist.

[Ashfalcon]

"What's going on?" asked Illanova Rastrov, looking over at Drin Safaire, who had once been numbered among the Sea Folk. They weren't friends, exactly, but they both favored daggers and the same general sort of sword, and they were both relatively new to the Warder Yards.

"I don't know," Safaire admitted, though the yards bore an unmistakable resemblance to a well-struck hornets' nest. "I woke up and my roommate was gone."

Illa took a moment to mull that over. It didn't sound good, she admitted to herself. She had a room to herself -- either a lucky break, or a small consideration from the Mistress of Arms -- and she was doing her best to stay in line and learn what she needed to learn. That, admittedly, was a lot; what she knew was sneaking and stealing and running and scrapping, some confidence games and other bluffs, and how to hit people where it hurt when they weren't expecting it. She'd taken to the bow with some real enthusiasm, but she'd barely rank herself as a beginner against the standards of the Grey Tower.

On the other hand, she'd been surviving on her wits and reflexes for nearly two decades, so maybe... "Let's go find somebody in charge," she suggested, "and see if we can help."

Safaire nodded. "Aye, all right. This does rather look like it calls for all hands on deck."

[Dan]

It was amusing, how the younger folk tended to ignore the old, or so thought the elderly man as random stray thoughts fluttered through his mind. He watched, from the shade of a tree lining the yard of a small house. as an entire squadron of Hama Valon's enemies rushed past, heading towards the Grey Tower proper. Visually, the loot looked the part. But their sense of urgency, their flickering eyes. They, one and all, felt heavy tension in the air, it was far too obvious to the elderly observer.


Pride, shame, anger, regret, so many emotions flooded his heart, and ser his veins burning savagely. The very sight of them enraged him, his home city, Hama Valon, under threat yet again. By the sight of old wrinkled hands flexing stiffly, with fingers that were visibly shrivvled and weak by illness, fingers shook in a sloppy attempt at a fist.

Cold grey eyes glared, as the pattern for countless woven weapons made of Saidin flooded his mind. Blades of air, balls of fire, chains of lightning. Those came along with memories, far too many memories. Many of them painful, many others, lonely. Aged hands opened, slacked, and by force of sheer will power, his thoughts of battle were pushed aside. This was not his fight, not unless the Tower itself asked him to get involved.

The elder knew full well he was bound by secrets buried deep within the Grey Tower, within the very depositories themselves, agreements notified and signed with living legends, and world leaders, both living and deceased.

The elderly man pulled the hood over his white haired hair. He wore a cloak made from material that was so deep a blue, it looked almost black. It was only by the occasional ray of the sun itself could the richness of the blue cloak's colour be truly appreciated. The older man wore simple deep grey trousers, and a light grey-blue dress shirt. At his cuff were several pins, proof of the man's status at having earned the sword and dragon.

His hands hurt, his knees were unusually stiff today. But he pushed himself, and headed towards the direction of the tower, his tower.

[Ashfalcon]

"Illa?" asked a familiar voice, and Illanova turned to see her friend Birno -- now a fully-raised Ashaman of the Brown Ajah -- gaping at her. "What are you doing out here?"

"Trying to figure out what's going on, of course," Illa answered easily. "This is my friend Safaire."

"A pleasure," said Birno. "You really shouldn't be out here, though. There's something big going on--"

"Bigger than a baby's arm?" asked Illa, with her most innocent expression.

Birno shook his head, exasperated. "Yes. Towering, you might say, if we're going to have this conversation in innuendo. We have a false Dragon in Tar Valon, recruiting Channelers of his own, and the Tower is moving to deal with it. You two should be..."

Ignoring the fact that Safaire's face had gone roughly the color of clouds at sunset, Illa suggested: "...proving our worth by coming along with you?"

"What makes you think I'm--" Birno shook his head. "Safaire, are you at least reasonably sane?"

The Sea Folk girl studied him for a long moment. "Yes?" she replied cautiously.

"Good. Then you get to try to keep Illa out of trouble. I'd tell you both to stay here, but I know perfectly well how that will work out, so you're my temporary, informal warders for the duration of this Shadow-cursed trip."

Illa grinned. "Come on. A chance to study a False Dragon? I knew you couldn't resist."

Birno rolled his eyes. "Stay by me. The whole time, mind you. I bloody near lost you to that tower, I'm not losing you again."

"What...?" Safaire started to ask.

Illa grinned. "I'll explain later. Promise. Stay by me, do what Birno says, and don't get killed."

"Weapons," said Birno. "Armor. If you're going to masquerade as warders, at least look the part. Meet me back here in half an hour, properly equipped and ready for battle."

[Bella]

"A preference isn't the same as a requirement."

This was said in the sneering tone of the young, those who are old enough and powerful enough to have a seat at the big kids' table but not enough to keep their thoughts in their appropriate lanes. At least the thoughts they voiced aloud.

"Easy, Ludmila," Andraste drawled, barely sparing the most junior Red of the group a glance.

With the Head of the Red Ajah away from the Grey Tower prior to all of this on a separate mission, Andraste somehow found herself in the role of most senior (of those available) Aes Sedai and thus the lead voice in the Red's part of this mission.

Light! she reflected inwardly, without revealing her doubts on her face, of course. Who could have guessed, when I first came here so broken and grief-stricken, that I would ever end up here?

"If the M'hael says that they prefer this...man taken alive, then we shall do our best to accommodate him," she continued flatly, arching one dark brow at the younger channeler.

Ludmila looked like she was going to argue, for a moment, but then she appropriately backed down.

"Remember that we will also be working with the other Ajahs, I am sure," Andraste continued from where their little group of Reds huddled (as much as Aes Sedai ever 'huddle') following the meeting. "So, we will play nice. We know our mission--infiltrate and locate this False Dragon, taking any rogue channelers we find on the way, but we will have to plan and cooperate to get there."

OOC: I am leaving this a little open for anyone who wants to come over and join up with the Reds? Like, Nate?

[Ashfalcon]

The Armory was a bustle of activity. Most Gaidin had weapons of their own, but the Tower's guards and the learning ranks had the option to check out weapons from the main armory. With so many people arming themselves, nobody was much keeping track of who was borrowing what, and Illa found it surprisingly easy to procure everything she and Safaire might need, starting with mid-length bows and a quiver of arrows each. Neither young woman was particularly practiced in armor, but Illa found them a pair of buff coats that they both rather liked. Safaire selected a cutlass for her sidearm, and then added a dagger at the back of her belt; Illa collected an archer's shortsword. They were out the door before the Quartermaster could do more than look up, and were halfway back to meet Birno outside the Hall when a Gaidin planted himself in front of them.

"Well met, Gaidin," said Illa, silently willing for Safaire to remain silent.

Even in a more relaxed setting, the man might still have been intimidating. He wasn't large, and that alongside the dark hair and pale skin suggested Cairhien as his origin; but the vertical scar over his left eye was impossible to ignore, and he studied Illa's off-color eye for a long moment with a quiet intensity. Here and now he was armored -- half-plate, if she remembered aright -- with blades in the sash around his waist and a crossbow slung across his back, pinning down the color-shifting cloak.

"I know you," he said quietly. "Or at least I know of you. You're one of the Drin." His eyes flickered to Safaire. "Both of you."

"We've been assigned to work with one of the Asha'man," Illa brazened, keeping her face calm.

"Have you?" asked the Gaidin.

"Yes."

The man studied them, stone-faced and silent, for a very long moment. Then he stepped aside. "Armor up and get to your station, then."

Illa didn't hesitate; she started forward immediately, all but dragging Safaire along with her.

She'd just caught sight of Birno when Safaire squeaked. "He's following us."

"I know," Illanova growled. The morning had been going so well, too.

[Chris]

Nate Carridus, Asha'man of the Blue Ajah
Some Aes Sedai glide. Some Warders skulk. Some Asha'man prowled.

Nate... clomped.

It was an inevitability, really. One didn't master a particular level of bulk without taking on a certain amount of stompyness. And for Nate, who was relatively young for a channeller but old enough to have settled in his body, he was quite the master of stomping.

But certainly not because he disagreed with anything his Ajah had in mind. Oh no, never that.

One had to turn up to those meetings to disagree with them in the first place.

The news had travelled quickly through the usual channels, but it was actually a friend in the Red, Gretchen, who tipped Nate off before his fellow Blues. It occurred to the Mayener that he had little interest in whatever they had in mind, and a great deal more interest in the potential to punch a stray False Dragon right in the nose. Yes, the image of performing such an act pleased the man greatly, and it was with a certain amount of knowing glee that Gretchen directed him towards the congregation of Reds tasking themselves with addressing this particular problem.

Gretchen herself, a talented channeller in the ways of Earthsinging, had little interest in the goings-on of her fellow Reds. She was in fact more inclined towards the Blues. Funny how these things worked, but maybe Chris was feeling a bit contrary when he wrote Nate and Gretchen as working this bridge between the Red and Blue Ajah.

Anyway Gretchen's busy so here's Nate.

Asha'man uniform mostly worn correctly and his warhammer hoisted on his shoulder like one might carry a stick, Nate brushed his long hair from his vision and shook it out as he approached the Reds. He himself stuck out like a sore thumb in various ways, but particularly in present company with the blue shirt he wore under his coat. He also wore an easy grin, one he used to address the gaggle of Reds now. Some he knew by name, others he'd worked with in some loose capacity before. "Morning all," he said cheerfully. "I thought I could feel a storm brewing." He set his hammer down on the floor with a gentle but still heavy thud. "What's the game plan and where do I fit in?"

By all accounts there was a time when a Dedicated Nate would have happily joined the Red Ajah. It was Viadulo, and the happenings around that, which tilted the weather manipulator towards the Blue. Being Chaotic Good and going where he could do the most damage in the name of helping others was his calling, so sometimes that lined up nicely with activities with the Reds and Greens.

[Dan]

"Remember that we will also be working with the other Ajahs, I am sure," the red sister continued from where their little cluster of Reds bundled up together. "So, we will play nice. We know our mission--infiltrate and locate this False Dragon, taking any rogue channelers we find on the way, but we will have to plan and cooperate to get there."

Aged grey eyebrows raised questioningly, as he caught the tail end of the discussion in the winds. He had initially intended to ignore the children from the Red Ajah, their history with his own Ajah was significant. But their words, unmistakable, those caught his attention. Cold grey eyes regarded the group, settling on them in a calculating manner. Truth be told, he had always wanted to meet these children, ever since the Tower had assimilated them. They treated his Hama Valon with respect, he appreciated that.

Two birds, one sword. The Asha'man rolled his shoulder, loosening the tension he felt coming. With some effort, the Asha'man adjusted his gait, from a man in his latter years, to the stride of a veteran swordsman. It would not do to concern the young, so the Asha'man made the choice to keep the pain of old scars internal. The man's posture went from someone slowed by time, to the straight back of a proud Asha'man.

"Daug…" The man began to say, but cut himself short. Stopping before the woman, he adjusted his story in his head, and said; "Aes Sedai of the Red Ajah, greetings." His gaze and posture matched those of the younger, proud Aes Sedai before him. There were some who considered these women outsiders, who treated them differently. Far more than any other Ajah, these people always needed to be on the defensive to some extent. The Red Ajah had a difficult history to begin with. But he would not treat them as such. In his mind, at the moment, they were perhaps the greatest weapon the Tower had in regards to the current crisis.

"You may call me Mat." The Asha'man said in introduction. It was not his name, and that was clearly known that any who stood before him. His portrait hung alongside other's of Hama Valon's ancient past. He knew that they knew it was not his name. But who he had been could not be here, who he had been could not get involved. He had promised those who had come after, that he would never cause problems in the land again.

But what if the rumours instead gave credit to his lone surviving child? He was not a liar, the oaths made sure of that. But anyone who earned the pins, the shawls, knew that there were many things one could say instead of a lie.

"I will be coming alongside you all, children." He said, leaving no debate in the matter. And so the former First Seeker of the Blue Ajah threw his lot with the Red's.

[Ashfalcon]

"Much better," said Birno, looking them over. "We'll need--" He cut off abruptly as the Warder stepped into their circle.

"These students are assigned to you?" he asked without preamble.

"Of course," Birno said. "They are inexperienced, but I am set to study this False Dragon, not fight with him. They should be safe enough."

For a long moment, the Gaidin didn't respond. Then he blinked once and said, "I'll come with you, to see that they're given proper instruction. Forgive me, Asha'man, but your guidance will be different from a Warder's."

Birno frowned, though he managed not to look nervous. Illa let a moment of panic flow over her as the whole situation slipped from her hands, then settled herself again. Birno said, "Shouldn't you be with your Channeler?"

"Alas, that is no longer possible," the Warder replied. "I am not bonded. My wife will mind the Salon, and I will oversee your... protectors."

Birno glanced at Illa, who shrugged. If he wasn't going to order them to stay here, she couldn't think of any reason not to bring him along, and honestly she was having trouble coming up with a good excuse to send him away.

"We'd be honored to have your company, Gaidin." Birno said after a moment.

OOC: Yeah, Firredal's still lurking around and running a training hall for swordsmanship in Hama Valon. In my personal head-canon, his wife is Expert with the sword, and a Blademaster with the dagger; I should probably submit an NPC app for her.

[Bella]

Andraste's eyes swung around to the two newcomers, and a faint smile tilted the edges of her mouth upward.

"What's the game plan and where do I fit in?"

"You may call me Mat."

Two Blues. How interesting. Her dark eyes were amused as she took Nate in. They had never interacted much directly, but she knew enough and found his presence amusing. It was his energy, she reflected. The other one, well, yes, she knew his name was not Mat, but she wouldn't call it out.

"We are glad to have you both join us," was what she said instead, quite smoothly. There was still much of the merchant woman in her when she interacted with others. "I am Andraste, and we were, in fact, just about to begin planning. So you are right on time, and I would be happy to hear any thoughts you may have to contribute to that."