The cold wind howled and battered Dovan Panrael's cloak as he drove his family's last possesion, an old carriage and an even older team of horses, down the road into inner city Caemlyn. There was an old friend of his from his days in the Guard who now owned an inn who had been willing to buy his carriage for a decent price, and his wife had made him well aware of the fact that they did not have enough crowns with them to buy passage to Tear.

 

The streets were beginning to fill up in the early morning but still every clod of every hoof from his team seemed to echo loudly down every avenue and alleyway as though they had been completely abandoned. The streets sounded as empty as the old man's thoughts. Ever since his family's estate had been siezed, he just could not find it within himself to hold his head up or look anyone in the eye for longer than a second without feeling himself tear up or wanting to cry out in anguish. Dovan knew he was behaving like a pregnant servant girl, but he could not help himself; he had single-handedly destroyed everything his father, his father, his father before him, and his father before him had bled to create. His son had forsaken him and spat on him, and he was acting the fool like some broken-hearted princess!

 

Sighing, he lowered his head to hide his blushing because he knew that he was blushing because he was blushing when he once stood well above all he could see now wandering the streets in the early hours of the morning. He urged his team on through the streets until finally he pulled in front of the Golden Shovel where Geth, his old friend, greeted him with a smile and a strong embrace, which Dovan could not find within his heart to return.

 

"Dovan, my friend," Geth said, a bit worried. "What is wrong? You send word that you're selling your carriage and team; you come down to visit an old friend who has always had his door open for you, my best room ready for you, and my best casks of ale and wine tapped for you, and you cannot even look me in the eye? Tell me, please. Tell me what has happened to you."

 

Dovan's eyes rose of their own accord and met his friend's gaze. "My friend, I have lost it all. My estate, my fortune." Then almost as an after thought, "My son. I've thrown it all away playing petty games, and now I'm left with nothing. Not even my pride," he half laughed although there was no mirth behind it, only daunting grief.

 

"Surely you know," Geth said, lowering his voice to a near-whisper, "that your family can come and stay in my inn for as long as you need. It's the least I can do. Of all the times you've been there to save my life while we served the Queen, the Light illumine her soul, it's the least I could do!"

 

"My friend, you saved me just as many times if not more in the service of the Queen, the Light preserve her and shelter her from harm. And I cannot place the burden of my wife and three children upon your inn. No, Geth, Elrin has decided, and we go to serve the Dragon in Tear however we can. I cannot stay here with you and yours, no matter how much I wish it were so.

 

"Here is my carriage and team. We need to sell it to buy passage to Tear. I've spoken with a captain by the docks and he's agreed to wait until we return, but he's not waiting for free. The Light only knows how much he'll want to charge for that."

 

Geth looked over Dovan Panrael's shoulder and studied the shoddy team and the chipping carriage. His eyes tightened as he realized what bad shape it all was in, but his smile never left his face. Slowly his gaze returned to his broken friend's face and he said, "I'll give you seventy-five gold crowns for them both."

 

"Done and done," Elrin chimed from behind him, brushing by her husband to shake hands with Geth who was slightly taken aback by the intrusion. "But you will, of course, be driving us down to the docks so we will not miss our boat. That captain seemed the type to go back on his word."

 

Chuckling and shaking his head in sheer amazement, Geth replied, "But of course, Lady Panrael. You asked before I could offer. If you will give me a few minutes to gather the money." Elrin inclined her head in consent, and Geth strode back into the Golden Shovel.

 

"Dovan, my love, go stand by the carriage and quiet the children. They're getting anxious."

 

"Yes, dear," he said resignedly before complying.

 

Not three minutes went by before Geth reappeared and handed two purses heavy with coin to his wife who opened them and briefly counted them. Smiling at the grizzled Geth, Elrin said, "Thank you, good sir, for your business. I hope your business flourishes and may the Light illumine all that is yours." With that said, she quickly mounted the carriage seat and began straightening her dress impatiently.

 

Geth approached Dovan who was still standing by the carriage door and placed three saddle bags into his frail arms. "Some food for the journey, my friend." They stood there trying not to meet the other's eyes for about a minute. It was just too much to say good-bye to such a dear friend who had given him so much. "Blood and ashes, but I'll miss you, my friend," he said, embracing Dovan in a crushing grasp, which he readily returned with as much vigor as he could muster.

 

"And I you, Geth," Dovan whispered, letting the tears roll down his face. "But we need to be going now," he said and pulled away meekly. "The Light shine on you, my friend."

 

"And on you too, Dovan," he said. "And on you too.

 

"Byrom! Herl!" Two men scrambled out of the inn quickly. "Drive, Lord and Lady Panrael down to the quayside before they miss their boat, and if they do, you'll be mucking the horse stalls for the rest of your life! You hear me?"

 

The two men did not say a word, but the way the scrambled to get the team going and putting away their supplies spoke volumes of the understanding between Geth and themselves.

 

The ride down to the docks was short and faster than expected, but it still took them a couple of hours to get there through the steadily thickening throng crowding the streets. Wide cobblestone streets turned into narrow muddy alleyways which turned back onto the main cobblestone roads over and back again, cutting across streets and taking every "short-cut" or "back way" the two handy men knew until finally their carriage trotted up to the quayside. Elrin stepped down and in short order had Byrom and Herl loaded down with their possessions and packs and had even enlisted the help of passing men who seemed confused as to why they were carring a chest across their backs towards some ship that most likely was not their own. Dovan's wife directed the bewildered mass of helpers up to a ship called "Elegant Lady" where stood a tall, wide man who announced himself as Captain Jem Deserae al'Conr, a merchant from somewhere along the borderlands come down to do trade with furs and hides. It took only a second but Elrin made him agree to take them all the way to Tear while she began instructing Dovan and the other men on where to put their belongings and to be careful with this or that--Light, but she seemed to see everything happening on the quayside! Eventually, Captain al'Conr barked orders to weigh anchor and trim the sails and all that other sea-boat gibberish that Dovan never quite understood when his wife came up to him in a fury.

 

"He took over one hundred gold crowns for the entire journey! The audacity of that man! He said he had to miss a good current to wait for us, but I saw right through that lie. And then he says that he has to feed us and shelter us and pass by several trading posts to get to Tear, but, he says, he just can't pass up this trade post or this one or he has a shipment to pick up in Carhien. He's bloody going to stop at every stop he had planned on in the first place and he charged us just like he had to miss them all. Ugh!"

 

From that moment on, the ride to Tear got rather bumpy as Elrin went out of her way to make Captain al'Conr's life a living nightmare. Tools went missing, oars were found floating down river, knots were discovred undone, men more often than not came to open blows for the smallest reasons. And on top of it all, Elrin found the gumption to complain to the good captain at every chance she got (and she got plenty of chances) about how unsafe this ship was for her family and that she paid him over one hundred gold crowns to get to Tear and she wanted for her and her family to get there in one piece. She had the man grinding his teeth from sunrise to sunset all the way to Tear. Frankly, Dovan was surprised the man hadn't lost any by the time they got arrived at Tear.

 

"I bloody well got you here," al'Conr spat, shooing them onto the pier and away from his ship. "Now, get off my ship and never curse its deck with your shadow ever again, woman. Peace but you could give Trollocs nightfrights!"

 

"Our journey was unsafe and perpetually plagued by one misfortune after another, good captain," Elrin chimed, jutting out her chin and setting herself in a commanding stance. "I demand some level of recompence for surely it was not worth the money I paid you."

 

"Woman," the captain growled heatedly, "you got your trip, you're here in one piece, and you're now off my ship. I owe you nothing in return but a 'good-bye.'"

 

Dovan's wife sniffed indignantly. "Well, if you won't return some of our money, then perhaps you can do another deed for us."

 

"And what," he asked, the vein on his forehead pulsing dangerously, "pray tell, would that be, madam?"

 

"Change the name of your ship, captain. I think 'Stumbling Sow' is more fitting. The passage you gave my family was anything buy 'elegant' or lady-like." And with one of her impish smiles she ushered her family off the docks and towards the nearest guard tower they could find, which luckily was not too far off.

 

A group of men in black coats were standing right outside the docks on the main road running into the city proper all the way towards the impenetrable fortress sillouethed against the light of the mid-morning sun. They seemed to ooze danger and menace, and the people of the city seemed to feel the same thing if the way they all walked wide around their group was any evidence.

 

One of them must have seen him eyeing them because he pointed to him and his family and said, "You there! Would you serve the Dragon Reborn?"

 

"Yes," he said, cowering back slightly from the man's piercing gaze. "I've come to serve the Dragon Reborn. However that may be. I'm old and frail and barely have anything left to offer, but... I'm willing to do what I'm assigned."

 

"Look at this one, Lor!" the man laughed in a rich mirthful laugh. "The Dragon Reborn accepts all who come to him in service. There is one test you must take first."

 

"He is ready to take it," Elrin said, coming up behind him. "Let us go and take it."

 

"I'm sorry, madam," Lor said, shaking his head politely. "Only your husband may take this test, and he must take it alone. Please come with me."

 

Lor led him into a nearby building and shut the door behind them.

 

"This is a test that every man must take before he serves the Dragon Reborn, so you can relax. You aren't in any trouble. I promise this is routine. I want you to look at the flame." And as he said that, a small flame sprang to life just above his now upturned palm. Dovan gasped and took several steps back until his back thudded against the door in which he had just walked, stammering like a man leave of his senses. "Sir, please calm down. This is exactly as I said: it's a mandatory test that all men who come to serve the Dragon Reborn must take."

 

"But I can't channel!" Dovan said, his voice tense and ragged.

 

"And most men can't either, but we still must administer the test. Of all those who are tested almost all of them are sent on to be in the ranks of the Dragon's army.

 

"Now, I promise this will not hurt at all, but it might take a while; however, if you cooperate, we'll have you out and assigned to a nice cozy office somewhere handling papers out of the way of danger. So again, look at the flame. There is nothing but you and the flame. You're surrounded by nothingness." The man named Lor continued to drone on using the same words for one minute, two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes as Dovan Panrael stared at the flame without blinking until finally Lor's eyes widened considerably.

 

"I don't know how to tell you this," he sighed almost apologetically, "but you can channel, and from what I can tell, you can do so powerfully."

 

 

He walked out feeling forsaken by the Light. He had lost his family's legacy, his fortune, his son, now his soul and soon his mind. He was a man truly damned by the Creator, but he was there to give his life to the Dragon Reborn and fate had presented him a chance to do so. Who was he to refuse?

 

"Well?" Elrin demanded just as he was leaving the building behind Lor who was now talking with the other men who Dovan now was sure could channel too.

 

He swept his gaze across the faces of his wife and children, sagged to the ground, cradled his head in his hands and began to mourn for everything he had lost in his life, Elrin and his three children trying to comfort him.

 

"Recruit," said one of the black-coated men. "It's time to go. You and your family are going to be moved so you can better serve the Dragon. This way please."

 

By the end of the day, Dovan Panrael found himself lost in a whirl of fate spun so thickly he could not possibly escape or run away from it. The man opened a hole in the air--a wonder to his family, but a dreadful possibility to the old man--to an open field from where they were led through a gathering community and placed in a newly built home with his family. And he could not help but wonder how in the Light he ended up here.

 

 

OOC: Okay, so it's late, I'm getting delirious and the post didn't end in it's awesome ending as I thought it would and I have people yelling at me to get off the computer (seriously), so I'm going to end it here, and if anyone wants to post preferably someone who would like to be a mentor to an old man who can't run around the BT even once, then go ahead, and I'll try to check it again soon!

 

Later,

Dovan Panrael

Isha stood stiffly, he leaned against the post, making neither sound nor movement. His eye concentrated on the roped off patch of bare earth though he would have heard the noise of anyone approaching.

 

It wasn't long before he saw the familiar slash of silver light. A smile- made to look like a sneer by his twisted lips- was faintly evident on his face.

 

"How many Lor?" called the giant man as the vertical line rotated into a Gateway.

 

"Only one Baijan'm'hael." said the other man stepping through the hole in the air. He gave a salute and jerked his head towards the new recruit. "I suppose you'll want to take him Isha?" the Sheinaran nodded, a half smile curving the good side of his mouth.

 

With that, the Lor motioned for a man to step through the Gateway and join Isha. The man was old, to the much younger man's surprise, tough and leathery. The hunched head stoof chest-high on ther abnormally tall Isha and was only about half the big man's weight.

 

What surprised Isha most, was the group of people following after him warily. A woman and a group of children.

 

With a raised eyebrow, Isha addressed the old man. "I am Attack Leader Isha Talcontar. Welcome to the Black Tower." Isha motioned to the group of buildings through the trees and down the lane towards the scattered buildings. His grandiose welcomed seemed anti-climatic in light of the ragtag scene. "What is your name, Recruit?"

I am Attack Leader Isha Talcontar. Welcome to the Black Tower. What is your name, Recruit?

 

While getting her three travel weary children to look somewhat presentable for this man, Elrin indifferently nudged Dovan forward. Trying his best not to gape at the giant man before him, Dovan forgot how meek he was and was reminded of how afraid he could be. The man standing before him could step the wrong way and crush Dovan's hip! He had a commanding air and piercing gaze that sent ripples of fear throughout the old man.

 

Isha's eyes took on a more commanding light, and behind him, Elrin cleared her throat loudly--a warning sign that she was about to introduce him herself if he insisted on staring at the man all day. Saluting as he did when he was on the Queen's Guard, the only way he knew how to salute besides saluting the Queen herself, Dovan's stringy muscles strained under his tough, leathery skin as he forced his frail, antiquitous frame to hold the unsure salute as steady as his tired body would allow.

 

"I am Dovan Panrael, Attack Leader," he said in a strained voice. Forcing his body into this position was difficult at best. "From Andor. And this is my wife, Elrin, and our three children: Jak, Sara, and Elayne (OOC: so sue me, I couldn't think of another good Andoran girl name! Lol). We've come to serve the Dragon Reborn who breaks all bonds and ties."

 

He left it there not too sure whether he had said too much or whether he had used the correct honorific for the towering young man in black. But in the single second before the man's reply, the old man questioned if he belonged here. Maybe it was a mistake. Or maybe it was a joke or a test! Light but let it be anything but the truth.

 

 

OOC: Thanks for replying, Estel!

"Few men would dare bring their families here, but yours would not be the first." she Isha, eyeing the gathered group with an inquisitive look in his remaining eye. With a gesture, the giant motioned for the family to follow him. "What brings you to the Tower, Dovan? Everyone has a story here and some are tales to chill your bones." Tales of men who could channel were often dark stories of blood and madness. He supposed he was lucky to have lost only one family memeber- and not to saidin.

"Few men would dare bring their families here, but yours would not be the first," Isha said, while ushering them towards what looked like a growing village. "What brings you to the Tower, Dovan? Everyone has a story here and some are tales to chill your bones."

 

"My story, Storm Leader?" he said with some trepidation--Light, but this man scared him to the core of his being! "There really is no story, sir. I am the composer of my family's ruination in Andor and before the creditors could find me to take away more than my worthless estate, my family and I escaped to Tear where we heard the Dragon Reborn was taking in followers. The men there tested me and--" Dovan had to pause just long enough to keep himself from breaking down in front of this fearful man and his family. "And they told me that I could... channel, and quite powerfully that." Isha's eyebrow rose in understanding as he came to the correct conclusion: no one found to be able to channel would be let go, and especially not those who could do so powerfully (OOC: No but really, my OP Score after purchase is 38!). "So I am here to serve the Dragon Reborn with my abilities." He bit his lower lip to keep himself from uttering, "and may the Light have mercy on my soul."

(OOC: So I know I'm not helping you out by not moving the "plot" forward so I decided to throw this in here. BTW, sorry if speaking for you makes you angry. Just thought that saying normal things that anyone would say would be okay.)

 

They walked along in silence towards an empty building that seemed to have been newly built, his feet aching from the many days of laboring travel and his body weary from sheer exhaustion and overuse.

 

"Here is where your family shall live," Isha said, looming over his entire family without meaning or trying to. "There are chores for your wife and children should they want to work or should you want them to, I should say. The most important rule for civilians living in the Tower is that no one shall leave without an Asha'Man to escort them." Asha'Man... from his loose knowledge of the Old Tongue--his father had been adamant about him learning it completely--Dovan thought it meant "Guardian" or "Protector" or something to that effect. "However, there is generally no need to leave the grounds for we have a market and farms and cattle of our own, and there are always shipments coming in every day overflowing with cloths and silks and other finery for the women here. One of the townswomen will be here shortly to give your family a tour of the grounds, but in the meantime, you'll find that all of your belongings are inside your house. Please take the time to move in now while your lives are still moderately quiet." He said that with a tone so commanding--despite the fact, Dovan was sure, he was trying to be genial--that not even Elrin, his wife, dared do anything but obey.

 

"Dovan Panrael," he said quietly, a sound that sent his old heart beating valiantly against his ribs, "come with me. We have much to discuss."

Isha led the man to his home. As usual, he noted the man's expression as his weathered face took in the nearly-fortress like structure. It had been rebuilt several times as events had not been kind to it. It was built completely of stone, with four fifteen foot walls, and the tops of the two 'towers' reaching thirty feet in the air. Built with saidin, it had been built to withstand anything else thrown at it. Isha had had to learn after reconstructing twice, after the Bubble of Evil and the affair with Aginor. Unconsciously the big man touched where his left eye had once been.

 

Leading the man through the small courtyard and into what was his office, he opened a large wardrobe, well-made, if plain, just like everything else. All the decorations were in the Shienaran style, meaning there were few and everything was plain and utilitarian.

 

A small window- almost an arrow slit, really- threw a ray of light in the wardrobe, revealing black clothes. With a peircing stare at Dovan, Isha sized him up and handed him three uniforms which he figured should be about the right size.

 

"This is your uniform. Keep it clean. You are a Soldier of the Black Tower now, upon reaching the level of Dedicated you will be given a sword pin and upon reaching Asha'man, a dragon pin." Isha's own pins glittered in the light cast by the window.

 

"Your training will be in physical strength, weapons and of course saidin. Welcome to the army of the Dragon Reborn. Like every army, discipline is key and if you are not disciplines enough, you will die. Saidin is not gentle."

 

The entire speech was delivered in a serious, business-like tone and finally breaking his stone-faced exterior, Isha smiled kindly and poured a cup of spiced wine for each of them. "Any questions?"

"This is your uniform," the towering man said, carefully handing him three uniforms. "Keep it clean. You are a Soldier of the Black Tower now, upon reaching the level of Dedicated you will be given a sword pin and upon reaching Asha'man, a dragon pin.

 

"Your training will be in physical strength, weapons and of course saidin. Welcome to the army of the Dragon Reborn. Like every army, discipline is key and if you are not disciplines enough, you will die. Saidin is not gentle.

 

"Any questions?"

 

Gulping--quietly Dovan hoped--the frail-framed man gathered his inner strength--a task in and of itself an act of discipline that tapped the shallow reserves left in his broken soul--and humbly said, "I don't have much in physical strength, and my hands can barely hold a pen much less a sword or halbard! Already I'm out of breath from walking from the Traveling grounds to your office here. Is there a way for me to train and not be broken? Is there not need of a librarian around the Tower or a personal secretary? I can give you discipline and I will give you my all, but my all is not enough or so it would seem. Thirty years ago, yes--maybe even twenty years ago, but now I am in the winter of my life. I've little left to give but what little my faculties will allow for, and sadly," he sighed ruefully yet with a twinge of his sordid old humor staining his words, "that does not involve rolling on the ground or running laps around the Black Tower. These uniforms burden me more than you know--as does my wife," he groaned under his breath. "So I must let you know what it is I can do before I accept tasks that I know I cannot."

Isha's face softened. He was young- he had seen barely twenty-five winters- while this man was well past his prime and his strength was failing. There were a few older men in the Tower but Isha had had little to do with them as he preferred to train younger men. For a man like Isha, who relied greatly on his physical strength, age was nearly as terrifying as the Taint. To know that someday he too would be old and frail... ~You'll never be old and frail boy, you'll die long before then~ The Voice cackled madly in his head and the Attack Leader was quick to crush it. It was right though.

 

"I believe the M'Hael will find a suitable training regimin for you. After all, a sword is useless if it is broken in the forging. Is there anything else?"

Isha suddenly made a movement with his head as though he were tilting his head to listen to a voice through a wall, but with an angry sniff and a slight yet sharp jerk of his head it was gone. Dovan knew what it was though... madness. He had seen that same look in his nephew's eyes before he claimed he could fly and leapt off a cliff. Is this what he had to look forward to? The old fears began resurfacing and bubbling up in the pit of his belly. But then Isha, mastering his physiognomy, said assuringly, "I believe the M'Hael will find a suitable training regimin for you. After all, a sword is useless if it is broken in the forging. Is there anything else?"

 

Sighing with relief, his body and face sagging visibly, Dovan saluted with a "no, sir" and quietly thanked the towering man before him. The look of pity born of that hard face warmed him and gave the old man hope and purpose, but the crazed gleam in his eyes moments before fortold of the troubles he himself faced. A fight for his life and sanity.