The storm came upon him swiftly.

 

Within moments, Forge was soaked to the skin, but there was nothing for it but to move on. He had waited too long to leave the abandoned stedding after his brief visit, and now he was paying for being caught out in the open with a late spring drenching. Out here in the rolling plains on the edge of the Caralain Grass, there was nowhere he could seek shelter. The undergrowth wasn’t even sufficient to hinder his progress, and there certainly weren’t any thickets with trees large enough for him to rig a shelter. So he had nothing to do but tread on toward the village Arien as the sky unleashed its torrents upon his soggy person.

 

The village’s presence was the reason the stedding had been abandoned long years past. It was simply too close to the human world, and sooner or later that always meant trouble. Ogier avoided trouble when they could, which usually meant they avoided humans altogether.

 

Forge wasn’t your usual Ogier, though. And besides, the stedding that housed Hawkwing’s statue had provided a peaceful respite from his travels through the human world.

 

In addition to being large for his kind, standing 12 feet tall and muscularly broad with it, he was extremely concerned with the goings on in the world of men. Focused was the word the Ogier Elders had used to describe him when his differences began to become more pronounced. They weren’t happy about it, of course (they thought he was going to put a long handle on his axe), but they respected his decision. Another oddity, at least as far as Ogier were concerned, were the two weapons he had slung through their loops on his travel pack. The battle axes were unique and far older than even the Elders. And Ogier never carried weapons.

 

Forge hadn’t planned on going to the village at all, but as the saying went, the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. As it was the only shelter he knew of for days in any direction, he figured he’d be better off there than trying to spend all night in the storm with nothing more than his coat and cloak for protection from the elements.

 

As the day grew older, the storm grew stronger. The wind blew hard enough to force him to lean into it, which was very unusual, to say the least. Far in the distance, he saw an unmistakable funnel-shaped cloud that foretold certain destruction for all that lay in its path. The terrible fury of the winds that accompanied such storms were devastating, and they were common in this region during the spring.

 

Fortunately, it was moving away from him.

 

As the hours and miles fell behind him, he came across an old road that was pointing in the general direction he wanted to go, and he decided to follow it. It hadn’t been oft traveled, for his were the only footprints he saw in the mud, but it was easier going than cross country. Darkness fell along with the rain as he walked the road. Forge couldn’t get any wetter walking than he could standing still, so he trod onward with nothing accompanying him but the rain and lightning. He was beginning to think this road would never end when he topped a rise and saw lights in the distance. Ears perking up with pleasure, he picked up the pace, mud squelching with each step as he hurried through the storm and darkness.

 

He began harboring thoughts of mulled wine and steak when he passed the first real tree he had seen in days, and they grew more vivid on the outskirts of a grove, but the savory walking dreams were shattered by screams.

 

He came to a halt, searching for the source of the awful sound. The wreckage wrought by the funnel cloud made the grove look like a mass of torn wooden corpses, their broken skeletons exposed to the heavens as the wind cried out their pain through their branches. But the wind wasn’t strong enough to mute the screams.

 

They led him on like torchlight leads a moth.

 

Several minutes later, he found the author of the cries thrashing in pain as its hooves tore the ground. A horse’s screams pierced the soul like no other sound. He had heard it before, but he would never get used to it.

 

Dropping his pack off his shoulders, he drew his long knife. The horse’s front hooves dug pain-frenzied ruts in the mud as its screams tore through the night. Its back legs remained motionless. The stallion had a broken back. Forge knelt solemnly beside the steed’s heaving head, catching it and holding it tenderly. The tears streaming from his teacup-sized eyes matched the downpour from above as he mercifully ended the horse’s torment. The sudden silence was deafening.

 

Forge stood wearily. His ears, lying flat out to the side, showed his sorrow. As he turned to retrieve his travel pack from the mud, the brilliance of a lightning flash revealed the horse’s rider. Or rather, he saw her top half. Her legs and lower torso were trapped under a shattered tree trunk.

 

He calmly assessed the situation as he bent to check on her. The woman was unconscious, which was probably a blessing from the Creator. Undoubtedly her injuries were severe, but she still lived, and he must get the tree off her if that was to continue. Taking a deep breath, he found good footing in the mud and gained purchase on the trunk. Saying a prayer to the Light, he lifted with all his might, the massive muscles built from decades of working Steel and Stone bulging visibly under his coat.

 

It moved!

 

With a tremendous surge, he heaved the broken tree away from him. Hurriedly he slung on his pack and delicately lifted the unconscious woman over his shoulder, her mohawk tickling his cheek while her legs dangled awkwardly. It was only then that he noticed the heron-marked blade strapped to her back. So she’s a warrior… I hope she has enough fight in her to survive this…

 

Returning to the road, he began running through the rain and darkness. His passenger barely even whimpered when he stumbled. She had no time to spare, so he didn’t waste breath on apologies. She wouldn’t have heard him anyway.

 

He slowed when he reached the village edge. Spying a young boy who was feeding some sheep from the shelter of a hayloft, he approached him boldly. When the youth finally noticed him, Forge spoke calmly, his bass rumble as deep as a drum, “Do not fear me.”

 

The small boy stood there silently, a wide grin painted on his face. Forge again wondered at the oddity of humans. The children were never afraid of him, but the adults usually were. Humans are undoubtedly the Creator’s strangest creation. Carefully he spoke again, “This woman is badly hurt. Where is your Healer?” When the boy pointed, he added, “Go tell her an Ogier is coming, and he needs her help.” The boy dashed off.

 

When he reached the healer’s home and heard the motherly woman’s instructions for him to lay down the injured storm victim and stay out of the way, Forge hoped the day’s work was almost finished.

“Blood and Ashes!” It wasn’t the first curse she had uttered along the road, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Blademaster she might be, but that did not make her the master of the weather. Or of the horse she was riding, for that matter. It was a fine stallion, faster than her Nikos, but where Nikos was calm even when the world seemed to end, this horse complained even at the first drop of rain. “You’re impossible.” Rosheen said, digging her heels into the sides of the horse once more, spurring it on. With some luck she would at least make it to the village before the storm hit.

 

Unfortunately luck had been one of the things that had abandoned her early on in her trip. First there had been the bad weather. Then her mission had turned out to be harder and yet also less vital than she had imagined it would be. When she finally hunted down the scoundrel who was said to have robbed every inn in Tar Valon, he turned out to be little more than an elusive boy, with little more than two thefts to blame him for. A disappointed Rosheen had handed him over to the local authority, travelling back to Tar Valon as swiftly as she could, which was far less swift than she had hoped.

 

The storm broke when she was a few miles away from the village. She urged the horse on even more, but it got more reluctant with every step. In the end it was it’s reluctance that saved her life. With the village in sight, Rosheen lost her focus. The horse took advantage by throwing her off. “Blood a…” she fell silent when she saw the tree above her get hit by lightning. Frozen for a moment, she could merely watch as it crashed down, landing harshly on the back of her horse, right where she had been moments before. The horse collapsed, bringing the tree with it. Still frozen, Rosheen was unable to defend herself against the falling tree.

 

Perhaps luck was still with her, as the ground underneath her was softened by the rain. Instead of squishing her instantly, the tree pushed her into the mud. A scream left her, seconds before she passed out from the pain. She was unaware of how the storm tore up the village she was heading towards, and how her horse’s suffering was ended by an ogier. She was only vaguely conscious when she was lifted high. There was enough pain to keep her under though, which was a blessing. She drifted off again, and didn’t wake up until two more days had passed. The healer told her she had been close to death, but that the Ogier’s swift actions had saved her.

 

With some help of a walking stick and one of the healer’s aides, Rosheen made her way out of the small house. “An Ogier, eh?” she asked the young boy. He nodded furiously, before launching into a tale of how the Ogier had brought her in, and how the Ogier had been helping them rebuild the city, and how he had two of the biggest axes the boy had ever seen. “An Ogier with axes?” she asked. The boy nodded again, seemingly ready to say more when his eyes widened. Slowly he backed away, before turning and running. Rosheen smiled faintly, before turning. “Greetings, friend.” She said, looking up at the Ogier who seemed to be at least twice her size. No small feat, as Rosheen was one of the tallest women she knew. “I hear that I owe you my life.”

 

~Rosheen Tahn Sakhr

It had been a long day already, although the sun was still only halfway to its noon peak despite the oppressive heat. Forge had been up before dawn, cutting down trees to provide frames for some cottages, hoisting crossbeams, and moving stone. He would never give it a moment’s thought, but he was easily doing the work of 20 men all by himself. He had removed his shirt in the heat, and had only put on his coat when he saw the patient emerge from the healer’s home in order to come check on her. His hairy chest, almost thickly covered enough to be called furry, was visible through the unbuttoned front. His powerfully muscled forearms were especially noticeable with his sleeves turned up. His hair, as always for him, was pulled back in a ponytail while his facial hair was limited to a carefully trimmed patch just below his bottom lip, cut to a short narrow point in a style called an imperial. Unlike most Ogier men, he didn’t cultivate a mustache.

 

“Greetings, friend. I hear that I owe you my life.”

 

Forge smiled down at the exotic looking human leaning heavily on her walking stick, her crest of hair rising like a rooster’s tail feathers. His smile almost cut his face in two. Responding in a merry bass rumble that sounded like a bull’s, the giant muscular Ogier answered formally with a bow and a shake of his head, “Not at all, friend. I am unworthy, and the work small. I’m sure you would have done the same had our situations been reversed.”

 

His ears twitching amusedly at the absurdity of his statement, Forge laughed. It was a booming sound, like a bass drum being played. His new acquaintance joined him with an amused chuckle of her own, although Forge noted that her eyes never changed. She was a hard woman, he surmised. No doubt the sword she had worn strapped on her back wasn’t the only thing that made her dangerous.

 

Still chuckling at the vision of her dragging a tree off of him, Forge motioned to her staff. “The healer says you are improving rapidly. How long before you can throw that away? I’m sorry about your horse, though. I did all I could for it.” Sighing heavily at the memory, the sound like the wind through a huge oak tree, Forge quickly changed the topic.

 

“It’s good to see you up and about. I was very worried for a while that I hadn’t got you here in time. The storm was terrible, it wiped out a large swath of the village, although the people here have been very cheerful while I’ve been working with them.” Spying the small boy who was peeking around a nearby corner, he added with a grin, “Especially the children. I don’t know how I get any work done with them asking for rides on my shoulders all the time.

 

“I was just about to get a drink of water before I get back to work. I am called Forge. Would you like to walk with me?” She did, and so he eased along slowly, matching her pace. He ambled along, enjoying the feeling of contentment that came along too rarely lately.

Her muscles ached as she walked alongside Forge. Two hops for every one step of his. Already her lungs felt as if they were burning, and her ribs felt ready to crack once more. She resisted the urge to give up though. One did not become a blademaster by giving up. One did not survive as long as she did by letting something as small as getting hit by a tree get in the way. She glanced up when the Ogier mentioned something about the children. “Ah well… there’s nothing wrong with a bit of curiosity. If you hadn’t been curious about the tree that had fallen on me, I probably would have been there still.”

 

She winced slightly at the mentioning of her horse. “I’m afraid it never did get the rider it deserved. My own horse is safely back in Tar Valon. A formidable creature, but a little too slow for the task I was sent on. This horse was always a little too jittery for my taste. But with right, as it turned out.” Shaking her head just a bit, she made a mental note to have a talk with the stablemaster when she got back. Perhaps she could somehow repay him for the loss of one of his fastest horses.

 

“So what brings you here, Forge? Last I heard Ogier still prefer to stay in the Stedding, leaving the outside world to us impatient humans.” She grinned when she said that. Ogier were notorious for taking a long time doing just about anything, and to those who cared enough to notice, it was also obvious that they disliked the pace which humans seemed to set for the world. Always running along, never taking the time to breathe. Well, it seemed like Rosheen would be forced to take a little time now, as there was no way she’d be fir for travel again within the week.

 

~Rosheen Tahn Sakhr

“So what brings you here, Forge? Last I heard Ogier still prefer to stay in the Stedding, leaving the outside world to us impatient humans.”

 

Forge continued his slow, stately pace, trying to match what the woman could manage as he considered her question. He could see that she was tough as an old pine knot. Obviously she was up and about sooner than she should be with her injuries, but not a moan escaped her lips. Sweat broke out on her forehead as they ambled along, and she grit her teeth from time to time, but she was made of good steel and didn’t complain.

 

Pausing for a moment to allow her to catch her breath, although he made out like it was nothing of the kind (humans had their pride), Forge softly answered. Softly for an Ogier, anyway. He sounded like a bumblebee the size of a pony.

 

“I’m not sure exactly why I’m here,” he said looking around at the devastated village that still hadn’t been entirely cleared away. “I know that the Wheel weaved my thread into the Pattern, and I was supposed to be here for some reason, but I’m not entirely sure what that reason is.”

 

Forge heaved his heavily muscled shoulders as he searched for the right words. “What you said about my kind is true. We have removed ourselves from the world of men, and turned our backs on its fate. Safe and comfortable in our Stedding, we were content to let you humans forget about us and live your hectic lives. But I fear we made a mistake, and that in doing so we forgot something ourselves. The Shadow still lurks, biding its time until it tries to cover the Pattern again.”

 

Turning back to his injured companion, Forge looked down at her through his bushy eyebrows, peering intently as if he could see into her soul. “I felt the call to change that. I think the Creator made me to walk a new path that will lead me to fight the Shadow like the Ogier of old. It sounds silly when I say it out loud, but that doesn’t change the facts of how I feel.”

 

Forge looked grim as he turned back to face the horizon. “My destiny is out there. We Ogier have forgotten that for the time being we are linked to this land, and so we must do our part to save it. Most refuse to admit that.

 

“I will do what I must.”

 

With a booming laugh, Forge turned back to look at the stunned and weary warrior, his smile appearing like desert flowers after a rain. “I’m sorry. I do rattle on sometimes. I should have just made pleasantries. I hope I didn’t embarrass you.

 

“Come, I think the healer will be mad at me if I keep you up on your feet any longer. I don’t think I’d like that. She looks to be a formidable woman.”

Smiling slightly at the Ogier’s words, Rosheen thought of her own quest. When she was young all she had wanted was to prove to the world that she was as good a warrior as any man. Now that she was older, she knew that she was better than many men. Her purpose had changed though. Her point of view on things had changed. “The wheel weaves as the wheel wills.” She muttered as a response to Forge’s desire to change the world. “I for one am glad to have you with us, friend Ogier. I’d say that one Ogier makes a bigger difference than one man.”

 

Laughing slightly at Forge’s suggestion that the healer would be mad at them for staying out too long, she allowed him to take her back to the healer. She felt that some of her wounds were getting moist again, which was never a particularly good sign. “What I wouldn’t give for an Aes Sedai healer right about now.” She said, winking at the giant Ogier. “Then at least I could do some work on the village, like you have. Light, but I hate feeling useless.”

 

They walked in silence for a while, as Rosheen pondered on what she could do to repay the Ogier for saving her life, and as the Ogier no doubt had Ogierish thoughts. “You say you wish to be a fighting Ogier, like the Ogier of old?” she half-asked, half assumed. “Perhaps that is where my duty here lies. I am not yet well enough to spar with you, Forge, but I don’t need to in order to help you hone your skills in battle. I would be honoured if you accepted me as your teacher, for the duration of our stay here.”

 

~Rosheen Tahn Sakhr

 

ooc: I’m not entirely sure what kind of training we need to do… please point it out to me ;)

 

Forge froze.

 

Looking down at the crested warrior woman, he wondered about the mysteries of the Wheel. Had the Creator touched the weaving of the Pattern? Shaping his words as carefully as he ever had stone or steel, he answered.

 

“It’s not that I wish to fight, only a fool does that,” he began slowly, but then the words came more freely. “It’s that someone has to if the Shadow is to be defeated. But so few are willing to answer the call. I am willing to do the work, though it isn’t something I would have wanted. The Creator made me different than my fellow Ogier. It took me a long time to understand the why of it, but I do now.”

 

“The Shadow lies heavy across the pattern, and mankind’s future has yet to be woven. For now, the Ogier’s future is still tied to this world, and I see what few other Ogier do. Hiding in our stedding, we will be safe for a time. But what happens when humanity falls? The Shadow will turn to us eventually. It is a bleak future. The harvest will never come, because the fields will be overgrown with weeds and thorns.”

 

Sighing, a deeply sorrowful sound like wind through a lonely tree on a mountain top, Forge added, “If we don’t up axes and clear the fields while there is still time, it may be too late to save this world. I am willing to pick up the burden and do my part, as much as it pains me. If you can help me to do the work better, then the honor would be mine.”

 

Bowing formally, Forge added with a smile that nearly split his face in two, “But for now, you’ve a sick bed and I’ve a house to rebuild. Shall we begin the work tonight?”

 

ooc: Forge has spent decades learning the Ogier techniques of fighting with quarterstaff and axe, but he needs to hone his skills to account for the smaller, quicker human enemies he will face. Mainly, anything you want to help him with would be good, because according to DM’s rules, I need to incease my paragraph count of training/combat posts to boost his WS.

Smiling gratefully to the Ogier, Rosheen nodded in ascent before heading off to bed. The healer was indeed fairly upset with her for moving around too much, but Rosheen didn’t particularly mind. She’d been injured worse in her day. Then again, she’d always have an Aes Sedai healer present at those times. She’d have to come up with a way to train Forge without actually moving around too much herself. She’d spar with him, but as it was she was just slow enough for him to get a hit in, and getting hit by one tree-like object a week was enough for her.

 

A few hours later she found herself sitting opposite to the Ogier again. “I think the best way to start here is to teach you a philosophy. I know you Ogier must have plenty of philosophy’s of your own, but what we’re aiming for here is to give you a way to focus yourself in battle. There are two philosophies we follow over at warders yards. The first is the flame and the void, which I can’t teach you because I don’t master it myself. It involves pushing all your emotions away, emptying yourself until there is nothing left but an absolute focus. I really prefer the other option.”

 

She shifted her position a bit, trying to get comfortable. If Forge wanted to learn a philosophy, this was going to be a long night. “The other one is much better, if you ask me. The Spring forces you to embrace your emotions. Once you’re one with all you have inside of your heart, you will find that your focus and your endurance will increase a lot. So what do you choose? Do you cast aside your feelings, or do you embrace them?”

 

~Rosheen Tahn Sakhr

 

Forge drank in the warrior woman’s words like dry soil drinks in rain.

 

Sitting with his legs crossed across from her, he focused on what she had said. In his mind’s eye, he recalled the violent times in his life. As he saw the images flash inside his head he shared with her how he had felt, but he didn’t give her the details. She knew what death was like.

 

“I don’t put a long handle on my axe easily,” Forge began slowly, trying to explain it so she could understand the giant Ogier before her, her pupil. His ears fluttered nervously, because he wasn’t used to talking about this sort of thing.

 

“For me, violence is a last resort, as it is for my kind. The Ogier of Old were mighty warriors, although they upped axes to clear the fields only when necessary. I imagine seeing them march was an awe inspiring sight. But,” he added with a dismissive wave of his hands, “the same can be said of me. I am not boasting, but I rarely need to do more than glance at someone to cool their hot blood. My size can be intimidating when humans have trouble on their minds.”

 

“But sometimes, as you know, violence is a necessary thing in order to prevent evil from claiming you.”

 

After a long pause, he continued. “I hope I am not boring you, but I wish for you to understand where I am coming from.”

 

“When it gets to the point of violence, everything sort of washes away. I am left feeling a coldness inside of me. Everything seems to move in slow motion. I can feel the anger, but it’s like another person is holding it for me. I am left feeling like I am cold steel until the bubble bursts and the work is done.”

 

Looking down at his hands, he sighed remorsefully, like a wind through the trees after a storm has gone. “I take no pleasure in killing, but I am glad I am good at it. If I wasn’t, more innocents would die.”

 

Looking up, he stared into the warder’s eyes. “I will understand if you don’t… but that is who I am. What is our next step? You aren’t bound to teach me if you don’t wish to.”