The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.Born below the ever cloud-capped peaks that gave the mountains their name, the wind blew west, down through the Darkwood, and out through the grasslands of the Almoth Plain. Cold it swept through the tall grasslands, cold it howled against the walls of Almoth itself, howled down its cobbled lanes and through its square gardens, long and howling until it caught the coat of a young prince squared off against his master, two men armed with practice swords in one of the many secluded square gardens that dotted the great city.Cold its howl found you, at the dawn of the day with sunset’s slow rise.The Wolf Wind the peasants called it, its howl reaching down from the high peaks of the far eastern mountains promising snow and ice and all the pain of darkest winter. It meant nothing good.You are Amalric al Amal of House Carlan, Prince of Falme. Your father is Amal al Osric, Lord of the Plain, First Keeper of the Tree, the Watcher on the Water, Guardian of the West, King of Almoth.Your father’s master-at-arms was a dark skinned Tairen, currently flashing the gaps in his teeth through a beard ringed grin, sighting you down the length of his wooden blade. It was a poor imitation for the real sword he carried, a slender blade you’d seen him draw but once. Vienma Sun, as foreign a name as everything else about him. His loose trousers tucked into his boots, the cuffs of his brown coat rolled up to bare his forearms. He was an age with your father, his woolly dark hair threaded with silver, but the two men couldn’t be less alike, your teacher moving through the world with a lightness of step and cheery grin that stood out among the dour people of Almoth.He had left you gasping with a hard thrust to your chest, for a moment knocking the heavy thoughts from your head and the remaining sleep from your eyes.“A fisherman rises with the sun, a prince should do so as well,” he said, “My father was a fisherman, he taught me this.”Whatever his father had been, you knew there was a heron mark on Master Vienma’s sword.“Your mind wanders. Is it the brides your father has brought for you? I would lose focus too.”
You kept your face still, concentrating enough not to blush. The ‘brides’ your master teased you about had yet to arrive. Would not arrive for some time yet, you hoped. A prince had little choice in who he was to wed, less so the heir to throne. You had a little choice here though. Your father had brought suitable candidates from across the world to gather in Almoth, in preparation for your twentieth name day when you would at last be considered a man, and from among them you would pick your bride and future queen, the woman who would bear your children and rule beside you until your dying day.Thinking on it left an ugly knot in your belly.If that were your only distraction perhaps you could focus better. Bad enough you would soon be forced to wed a stranger, your little sister Amathera would soon be bound for Tar Valon. Dodging the fate of a forced marriage, she would in time join the ranks of the Aes Sedai, rising higher than even the already high station of her birth.You should be happy for her. She had a greater destiny awaiting her than most would ever know.And if that were all that would be enough, but there was worse still. News trickling in from the countryside, a dry year had taken its toll, left the people little prepared for winter. Fields lay fallow for lack of rain, and the great cattle herds that roamed across the open Almoth plains had shrunk beneath a brutal summer’s sun. The River Andahar, the only true river in Almoth, had dropped so low river craft struggled to sail down its tributaries.Bandits plagued the land. Trouble on the Tarabon border had stirred again, and the merchants of Arad Doman grumbled about the dangers of crossing the Almoth Plain.What it meant for the future of your father’s kingdom, you couldn’t say, but it felt as if the shadow of the Dark One had fallen across his lands.“Ah, so heavy a frown on such a young one’s face,” your teacher chuckled, “Come, tell Vienma what troubles you.” >I worry about my bride-to-be, and whether or not I will love her>I worry about my sister and her future, and what it means>I worry about my land and what my people are enduring>Say nothing and level your blade
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wJtFXTIEwYQWelcome to my Wheel of Time Quest, where you will play (for now) as the crown prince of the kingdom of Almoth, Amalric al Amal, in the years before Almoth's fall. We are playing a game set roughly 500 years before the birth of the Dragon Reborn.
>>5946829>I worry about my land and what my people are enduringBased start, OP - you have a talent for mimicking RJ’s prose.
>>5946829>>I worry about my land and what my people are enduring
>>5946840>>5946908ok going with this
The invitation was welcome, and you let the point of your sword drop with a sigh."I worry about my land and my people," you say, "I worry about our future. The drought this summer, and the one the summer before...I start to fear its a drought without end. The rain is not falling as it should, or where it should.""You are a more keen student of the weather than I realized," Vienma said, "If you studied the sword half so much, you would be the teacher and I the student."You shook your head. "It's only the evidence of my eyes," you said, "Reports reach my father of cattle stations being abandoned, their wells run dry, and farmers abandoning their fields to flee to the coast or the forests. Maybe the future of Almoth is in fish instead of cattle, if it has a future.""Gloomy talk," Master Vienma said with a shake of his head, "It ill suits you my boy. If I were an Aes Sedai I would say 'the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills,' but as I am not a witch and instead a penny poor fool of a Tairen, instead I will say 'raise up your sword, a dead prince can help no one if he cannot protect himself'."And before you had your sword but half-raised he lunged a thrust for your chest that you barely checked. He countered your parry with 'the thistle in the rose' which you met with the 'river under the bridge'. It was not sword fighting as was common in Almoth, where heavy cutting blades were prefered. Instead it was a game of thrust and jab and quick small footsteps.He launched 'the gleeman's laugh' and you matched with 'river under the bridge' again only to find out too late it was in truth 'the drunkard in the alley', and caught a stinging thrust on your lower ribs. It doubled you over with a wheeze."Remember pup, an honest sword is like an honest king, well loved but doomed to fail," your master chided as you palmed your sore ribs. "You are improving though, improving by steps at a time."You did not feel improved, glaring at the swarthy blademaster grinning down at you. Master Vienma was not a tall man. By Almoth standards he was notably short. You had stood taller than him when you had been sixteen and were far taller than him now, but the reach of your arm seemed to make little difference in your contests. He had been your teacher since you had been fifteen, and it was rare you ever won any of these contests."Remember to clear your mind," he said, "Make your mind like a rushing river, sweeping away all thought, washing it all out into the ocean until only the river remains. And then once your mind is clear, be like water, ever changing, ever twisting." He demonstrated with a flourish of his sword.You nod though your thoughts are still moody, how could they not be? He placed a hand on your shoulder.
"If you cannot stop thinking on your country's problems, perhaps you should speak with Karina Sedai," he said. It was rare he should ever recommend you speak to the 'witch', and it showed in the seriousness of his eyes. "If you cannot focus, I cannot train you the way you need to be trained. Either way, we are done for the day.""Thank you, master," you say with a bow. He laughs it off, throwing aside his practice sword, taking up a skin of wine."And perhaps I need a break as well, eh? I am not so young as I used to be."You rolled sore shoulders. Despite the chill of the Wolf Wind you had still sweated through your undershirt and were loathe to pull on your coat, the knee length fleece lined coat common throughout the country. Instead you slung it over your shoulder, bowing to your master again."I will try to be more like water," you said, but all that saying it made you feel in need of a bath.Perhaps that was what you needed. To wash away your troubles in a bath house.>use this break to relax, go to a bath house>take your master's advice and call on Karina Sedai>write-in
>>5946962>>use this break to relax, go to a bath house
>>5946962>take your master's advice and call on Karina SedaiOP, you may need a couple days to build up a playerbase and this is normal. Also, some QMs literally took out $20 ads last summer and this was pretty effective.
>>5947143To add to this, sticking to a preestablished franchise both gives you a floor (extra attention from players that already know/want the franchise) and a cap (basing yourself on an existing franchise adds a steep learning barrier to understanding what's going on unless you're already a fan) to how popular your quest can ever be.
>>5946962Ah Wheel of time quest? Cool! Definitely not something I've seen before. And I was just looking over my old books the other day, barely touched the series since Jordan died. I must admit I've thought about running an RPG campaign set in Hawkwing's heyday. It sounds like a really smart choice to have set it 500 years before rand is around, open to explore>take your master's advice and call on Karina SedaiGet some political insight, some advice, get a look at our local manipulator-ess. Should drive the plot forward a bit.
>>5946962>>take your master's advice and call on Karina Sedai
>>5947599>>5947402>>5947143visiting Karina Sedai wins
No, distraction did not answer your questions, and avoiding the questions didn't change their answers either. You wanted the truth, and could think of no one more suited to give them than Karina Sedai, your father's aes sedai advisor.You walked the quiet path up from Master Vienma's quarters toward the aes sedai wing of your father's palace. Almoth was a city of stone, with stone walls threading the cobble stone lanes all through it, linking up the round stone buildings with red shingle tiled rooves that stood against the hard, relentless winds that swept off the Almoth Plain.The people you saw, men and women both, went about their morning in their knee length fleece lined coats and their equally tall leather boots. A few hard men wore the road dust and swagger of cattle drivers, come in with the royal muster, their cowherds crowded into the pens outside Aturo's Gate. For all the hard summer, winter was biting early and as hot as summer was on the open plains, winter was no less bitter. Almoth might not have much reputation for warriors, but it had a reputation for toughness.Anyone who lived off the land out here needed to be tough, but with times getting tougher even their hardiness was being tested.The palace rose above the rest of the city on a small hill rise. Like much of the city it was a large round building of stone, with newer wings built from forested timber from the Dark Wood, oak protrusions that glistened darkly against the plain stone body of the main building. The palace rooves were a mix of gold and red tiles and from outside seemed like a single body, but you knew inside it was a maze of nested quarters one inside the other. Some of your father's men, in breast plates with spears and the white tree of Almoth on their chests, mingled at the palace entrance. One saluted you but most paid you little mind. It didn't bother you, they were not the object of your attention.The benefit of being the Prince of Falme is it offered you a certain freedom to come and go as you pleased. You doubted many men of lower rank would dare intrude on the private quarters of an aes sedai, particularly one who was the White Tower's representative in the court of Almoth.But even you hesitated at the threshold of her quarters. It was one of the newer wings, constructed from hard wood in the eastern wing of the palace. The foundation of the palace was said to be the work of ogier stonemasons, but your family had neither the money, nor the ogier the interest, in extending out the new wings of the palace in the same manner. It had been built in the days of your grandfather to accomodate Karina Sedai's predecessor, the stern Halama Sedai, who you remembered from your own childhood as a dour and sharp tongued figure, before she had been called back to the White Tower on 'urgent business', with Tar Valon long and slow in sending out her successor.As a nation Almoth no longer seemed to rank so highly among Tar Valon's priorities.
Before you could knock one of the servants let you in. "Karina's in her garden," the manservant said. Such informality would not have stood in the days of Halama Sedai.You would not say you were an expert on the ways of the Tar Valon witches. You knew what everyone knew. That they were bound by the unbreakable 'three oaths': that they could not speak a lie, that they were forbidden from making weapons, and that they were forbidden from using the One Power to kill. At least that was how you understood it, though your father had always cautioned that the aes sedai knew tricksome ways around their power bound oaths.Many believed Tar Valon ruled the world through their network of court appointed advisors, subtly steering the world to the designs of their ruler, the Amyrlin Seat. The Children of the Light called them a den of dark friends, working on behalf of the Dark One to corrupt the hearts of men and lead them away from the light of the Creator.What you knew about Karina Sedai.Was that she was a gardener, and when you came into her garden found her in the business of transplanting a young tree from pot to soil. The image of an aes sedai was that of regal, beautiful women who ruled with imperious authority and an aura of command none could deny. More queenly than even the most blue blooded queens.Karina Sedai wore a brown smock and was dirty up to her elbows, her chestnut hair bundled back from her face in a loose peasant's knot, a smudge of soil on her cheek. She padded down the earth with bright, satisfied eyes. Her round garden in the heart of the aes sedai quarters had grown into a near wilderness since she had taken up her post nearly a year ago. When she rose up from the soil she nibbled on her bottom lip, brows knotting as she started on some new puzzle.When she saw you her brows unknitted in an easy smile.It was not easy to know how old an Aes Sedai was. One moment she seemed a girl of seventeen, the next a woman of thirty, and next like no age at all. What never changed though were her wide dark eyes under bushy eyebrows, her small chin and the dimples when she smiled. Halama Sedai had gone about her day in the most ornate of dresses, thick lace at the cuffs and chest, with no less than three skirts. She had worn jewels that glittered over her fingers and up her arms, and had been stalked always by her man-wolf warder.Karina Sedai wore a brown smock and slippers, her only ornament a silver penny necklace. If she had a warder you'd never seen or heard mention of him. Halama Sedai had belonged to the Blue Ajah. Karina Sedai belonged to the Brown Ajah. You were not entirely sure what the difference was."Good morning," she said, dunking her soil stained hands into a waiting bucket of water, "You've been training with Master Vienma."
It was not a question. "How badly must I smell for it to be that obvious?" you said."Not badly," she said with a smile, "But also, you're still carrying your practice sword."You blushed and set the wooden sword aside."Is this a social call?" she asked, "I haven't had breakfast just yet, you're free to join me if you'd like." She began to wash her face. Karina Sedai was a petite woman with bushy brown hair and skin near the same colour. She gasped with relief once her face was clean, unbound her hair from its loose knot to let the shaggy mane fall around her shoulders."Eggs, buttered toast, with mushrooms and a fresh pitcher of milk," she said. A humble breakfast for one of the famed witches of the White Tower."I wanted to ask you a question," you said, "About the drought we've been having, and what it means for the kingdom."Her eyebrows rose as she strolled past you. You followed her out of the garden and into a waiting chamber. A breakfast was already served, one for you as well. Though it was not her private quarters exactly, still the waiting room was festoned with books, the walls pinned with charts and diagrams. You looked over one and puzzled out that it was a solar cycle, tracking the movement of the sun. She gestured for you to sit, poured you a cup of milk."What about it?" she said."Will it destroy my father's kingdom?"She nibbled her bottom lip, her brows knitted again. "Any drought that lasts long enough can ruin a kingdom," she said, "Is it possible? Yes. Is it likely? I do not know. I could tell you the Wheel weaves as it wills, and that we are all merely strands in the Pattern, spun out for a purpose beyond our knowing. But that is not much comfort to a farmer watching his cattle die of thirst or a mother deciding how much food she can spare to feed her children. All I can say is that things are not so dire as all that. Not yet at least."You let out a hard breath. It was little comfort for your worries."Do you know when the drought will end? I've heard your people can read the weather.""Some can, but I've no gift for weather sense," she said, taking a bite of her thick crust toast, "Good snow this season could help, though it will not feel like help for those caught in it.""Is that all you wanted to talk about?" she asked, dunking her toast in the yolk of her egg, pleasant smile up on you.>Is there some way your powers can help ease the drought?>My sister is heading to Tar Valon soon, what can she expect?>How are you finding Almoth? You've only been here a year.>(Write-in)
>>5947715>>Is there some way your powers can help ease the drought?
>>5947715>>My sister is heading to Tar Valon soon, what can she expect?
>>5948039>>5948027going with this
"My sister will be heading to Tar Valon soon, what can she expect?""Princess Amathera? That's a change in subject," Karina Sedai said, seeming near perplexed by it with a rapid blink, "I did not test her for the gift though I read what Halama Sedai had to say. She's quite gifted, your sister, and will do well if she can muster the concentration and will. It's a great honour for a noble family to send a daughter to train at the Tower, but if I'm being honest most of those girls are...ill suited for the rigor of an apprentice's life.""So she may not become aes sedai at all?" you asked."Some girls are taught just enough not to kill themselves," Karina Sedai said, "Though those girls are usually weak in the gift and can only touch saidar, the one power, with careful training and even then, not with any great ability to wield it. They have neither the strength in the one power or the strength of will to succeed, and are mostly sent and recieved as a...as a kind of political game, I suppose." She said it with such clear distaste. Unlike the fierce Halama Sedai, Karina Sedai was not as well versed at hiding her emotions. "But your sister is not one of those girls. Halama said when she was thirteen she almost burned down the stables with her gift. When a fight with a stable boy got out of hand."It was true, and you remembered it well. You were the one that had to pull her from the fire, and it had taken weeks for Halama to heal the burns it had left across your back. You found you had a hand to your shoulder at that painful memory, as much on the nights restricted to your bed as the flame and smoke of the burning stable yard."If your sister does not receive the proper training at best she will end up a wilder, an untrained user of saidar, her powers unpredictable and flighty. At worst she will be a danger to herself and others. No, your sister will become aes sedai, she has little other choice."Not a font of comfort today, you had to admit."I've heard the training can be dangerous," you said."It can be," she admitted."Could I go with her, to protect her? Princes of Andor are sent to the White Tower to train with the warders. Why not a prince of Almoth?""Andor is an...individual case," she said, "And the princes of Andor are not in line for the throne. You have an excellent teacher here, as good as any warder I've known. If you want to go to Tar Valon to protect your sister, believe me when I say the dangers she will face are beyond your ability to protect her from."She put her hand against your chest, a wry smile on her face as she looked up at you."You have a good heart, Amalric," she said, "It will serve you well as king, as I hope to serve you once you wear the leaf crown."
"Master Vienma says an honest king is a doomed one," you said. Her hand had not left your chest, and it was warm where it touched."Master Vienma is a Tairen, the only people worse for distrust are Cairhienins. They lack your Almothan sense of honesty. Have you heard the joke about Almothans?""Which one?" you said."How do you know what an Almothan thinks about you? Don't worry, they'll tell you."You rolled your eyes. "It's not a very funny joke," she admitted and at last removed her hand, at present to finish her breakfast."I'm sorry for taking up your morning with my fears, Karina Sedai," you said, "Listening to me whine must get as grating as the howl of the plains' winds.""No, not at all!" she said, practically standing from her chair, whisking her toast crust like a wand, "My quarters are always open to you Amalric, always! And please, you don't have to call me 'Karina Sedai' at all times. Karina is fine. Even Rina in private, if you're comfortable with it.">as you say, Karina Sedai>as you say, Karina>as you say...Rina
>>5948095Are we being manipulated? You can't ever tell with Aes Sedai. We're probably being manipulated. Then again, that's politics>As you say, Rina.... SedaiGotta get that patented Jordan male incompetence with women in>Perhaps you could tell me a bit about what your duties in Almoth are focused on right, with all the struggles of the country? I mean, when you are not getting your hands dirtyand gesture vaguely at the garden
>>5948094>as you say...Rina
>>5948095>As you say, Rina... SedaiYeah this is the Jordan OptionNice quest OP, never seen anyone do WoT despite how big a series it is/was. Keen to see where it goes.
>>5948095>As you say, Rina.... Sedai
>>5948095>as you say...Rina
sorry for not posting today. had to take my dog to the vet and found out he has congestive heart failure. he's an old boy and should still have a few months left in him, but its still hard to deal with
>>5948915Sorry to hear that OP, good luck
>>5948915It's all good man, no rush. And sorry to hear that.
"As you say, Rina...Sedai," you couldn't help but add the title as you bowed to leave, and it was met with a soft sigh from the aes sedai. One of her servants showed you out.For all she had offered you no comfort or easy answers, you did feel a little relieved for having spoken with her, on both the subject or the drought and on your sister's impending departure to the White Tower. She was easy to talk to, far different from Halama Sedai that if it weren't for the strange ageless quality to her face you would doubt she was aes sedai at all. There was more to the 'witches' of the White Tower than were contained in a gleeman's song.Down you went a corridor meaning to return your practice sword to your room. People knew to the palace could find navigating the corridors and chambers a tad difficult, but you had been raised in these walls and found your path with no conciesce effort.It was a surprise then when you turned a corner and nearly ran into a most unwelcome sight.Your uncle, Galdin al Pindor of House Carrado, in conversation with a white cloaked man. Your uncle was the Lord of Katar and Keeper of the Paedish Swar, and not your uncle by blood but married to your mother's sister. He was a tall, rangy man with a hard, angular face he kept clean shaven and straight graying hair he kept close clipped. He wore the chopping saber common to the Almoth Plain under a fleece lined coat, the coat itself and its long sleeves green and etched with golden spirals. His tall riding boots wore a coat of road dust.It had always been your feeling your uncle did not like you. He was a hard man with little sympathy in his heart. He had not been kind to your mother's sister.The white cloaked figure you knew by reputation and from a distance, often seen preaching in the street corners of the city. He was pale in both hair and skin and his left eye was half shut in a permanent squint that all gave him the air of a maggoty thing dug up from deep soil. Lord-Captain Suthvin a'Donnel, of the Children of the Light. He had lead a mission into your father's lands at the outset of the drought two years ago, preaching on the dangers of the Dark One and laying the blame for the drought at the feet of so-far unnamed 'dark friends'. His men had made themselves an unwelcome fixture in the southern quarters of the city, though you could not deny the food they had transported in from neighbouring Tarabon had gone a way to helping the poorest of your people.It was only what they asked in return that troubled you. Oaths of loyalty to the Creator, a tithe of their wages, and a promise to bring news of any dark friend activity to the attention of the Lord Captain.
So far all it had ammounted to was a few young people flogged through the streets for one indiscretion or another, with your father seemingly incapable of curtailing their growing zeal. You do not know who had allowed him into the palace, but you knew your father would not be pleased."At the highest peaks of the world and the lowest gutter, we must always be vigilant," Suthvin said to your listening, nodding uncle, "A fish rots from the head. Only with Light fearing men upon the throne can the world know the Creator's-"His sermon cut off at the sight of you turning the corner, his milk pale face turning sour. Your uncle said nothing but the lines in his face hardened, his jaw clenched. Suthvin turned his sour surprise into a light smile."Ah, Prince Amalric, a pleasure," he said, "The boy soon to be a man, and the talk of the hour. How goes your search for a bride?""Been visiting the witch, have you?" your uncle scowled, guessing correctly the direction you'd come from, "The last witch your father served was bad enough, this new one is barely a woman. We should be rid of these witches.""Easy, Lord Galdin," the Lord-Captain of the Light said, "It's custom for a king to keep an...aes sedai as an advisor. Loathe though we are to admit it, Tar Valon has its claws sunk into the neck of every court in the land. King Amal could no more deny Tar Valon their place at his court than he could a bird its place in the sky.""Birds can be brought down," he replied."One day, perhaps, Light willing," Suthvin said, but his attention was on you, "Tell me, Prince Amalric, do you stand in the Light?"A frivolous question, you thought, but there was an earnest fire in Suthvin's eye."There are many who think they stand in the light, when in truth they stand in deepest shadow," he continued, "And there is a shadow on this land. Surely you have felt it?""If there is a shadow on this land, it will pass," you said."If there is a shadow on this land, it will be removed," your uncle countered.The lord-captain smiled. There was much to mislike about that smile."The War against the Shadow is first fought in the hearts of men," he said, "But at the last it will be fought with steel. When the shadows lengthen we must all be ready to stand in the Light."Words that were hard to disagree with.>agree with the lord-captain, at least in principle. at least they had provided some aid to your people>point out his men seem more concerned with harassing ordinary folk and collecting tithes than fighting the dark one>(write-in)
>>5949389>>point out his men seem more concerned with harassing ordinary folk and collecting tithes than fighting the dark one
>>5949389>>agree with the lord-captain, at least in principle. at least they had provided some aid to your people
>>5949389>point out his men seem more concerned with harassing ordinary folk and collecting tithes than fighting the dark one
>>5949389>agree with the lord-captain, at least in principle. at least they had provided some aid to your peoplemore diplomatic. Nothing to gain by antagonising him.
>>5949389>agree with the lord-captain, at least in principle. at least they had provided some aid to your peopleJust make pious noises to fend him off for now, and ignore the fact that the only organisation more overrepresented with darkfriends in the books than aes sedai are the so called "Children of the light"Not that our character knows that.Anyway, better if he doesn't know we dislike him, especially if we dislike him and his kind
>>5949843>>5949747>>5949454ok, let's be diplomatic
had a blackout here that gobbled up about a five hundred word update. fun.
>>5950545Write on a word processor not 4chan
You could tell the man what you thought of him and his thugs in white cloaks harassing honest merchants in the city thoroughfare and policing the comings and goings of honest layfolk, but your master's words returned to you. An honest king is well loved but doomed. Better to scabbard your anger, and attempt to be diplomatic. The Children of the Light had after all done some good, bringing with them grain from Ghealdan and sending for more from Altara."Hungry mouths need feeding, if nothing else you have done that, lord-captain," you said, "Whatever else you may do in our country, that is to your credit.""We are all children of the light, my prince, if we can provide for those who suffer we must do so," Suthvin said, "Though it is the spiritual hunger we most hope to feed. Hungry mouths suffer in the body, hungry souls suffer in the Pattern. In time we are all returned to the Wheel to be weaved once more into the Pattern, how we return though I believe is judged by how we have lived, and how we will die."A more intellectual perspective than you were expecting from the lord-captain, and not one you could easily discount."I have heard you also are concerned with the drought gripping your country and the famine that is likely to follow," he said, "It is right that you should be so concerned. Other lords think little about anything but their own rights and privileges even in times of great calamity."For all his thoughtful words to you, beside him your uncle glowered. Long had it been known House Carrado had an interest in your father's throne, and marriage to the queen's sister had done little to dull that generational ambition. You didn't doubt your uncle's faith in the Light was genuine, but you were smart enough to see the alliance at play and how he might hope to use it as a key to his own ambitions. A fool could see as much."We will not keep you, my prince," the lord-captain said with a deferring bow, "We wish you luck in your quest for a bride. Whatever union is made, I'm sure Almoth will prosper." Then once leading away your uncle, their previous conversation continued at a low mutter.Your skin prickled at the suspicion of a conspiracy between House Carrado and the Children, and thanking blind luck that you had caught a chance inkling of it. Though a stray conversation between your Light fearing uncle and a lord-captain of the White Cloaks proved nothing but poor judgement in your uncle's company. They were no more popular with the nobility than they were with the common folk, at least at present. Though you had to admit, neither was your father.
Since your mother had passed, dead of a withering disease some years ago, he had spent more and more time secluded in the royal garden, a private chamber none but the king were permitted to enter, on pain of death. Even you had never been within it, though your father had promised the day would come on the eve of your coronation. Rumour long held what stood within those walls. All you could say is that when your father emerged from those chambers he seemed a more rested man, though it never lasted long before his black mood would return, and he would withdraw from the world again.It was a wonder he had found the time and energy to find you as many bridal candidates as he had. Women from Arad Doman and Tarabon, of course, as well as Altara and Illian, but also from as far away as Arafel, Malkier, and poor fading Caralain.Whoever you chose as a bride would have an impact not just on Almoth but on the world itself. Princes and kings were not like other men, what decisions you made could have global consequences. It was a moody thought. Others might be excited to hold such responsibility, to you it felt like the weight of a mountain upon your shoulders. Almoth had long been challenged by its neighbours, Arad Doman and Tarabon both sniffing its borders hoping to seize more of it for themselves. In his youth your father had driven out a band of Taraboners hoping to take the land by force, leading to a short but bloody war the songs called the Burned Grass.Choose wrong and another war, with Arad Doman or Tarabon or who knew who, could potentially be in the offing.Heavy thoughts led to a heavy tread, and you regretted not taking that bath. You truly did need a distraction now.>seek out the company of your sister, Amathera. She would be in the stables.>seek out the company your best friend, Conlin. He would be at a city tavern.>keep your own company. Distract yourself by training in the sword.
>>5950697Hmm, I'd like to see both ofcourse, but I get the sense Conlin is the bad influence/our Matt Perrin to our dutiful persona, and that should be fun to interact with!>seek out the company your best friend, Conlin. He would be at a city tavern.Plus, might pick up some rumours while chilling with the common man, right?
sorry for the delays over the last couple of days. really hit by some unexpected problems that's led to this quest having a slower start than I'd intendeda note on the whitecloaks: currently they have no single nation they call home, as they didn't established themselves in amadicia until the 930s NE, where as this quest is set in 500 NE, so I'm depicting them more as a post-3rd crusade knights templar-esque institution with a series of chapter houses spread throughout the westlands rather than having a single base
>>5950697>>seek out the company your best friend, Conlin. He would be at a city tavern.
>>5950697> seek out the company of your sister, Amathera. She would be in the stables.Interested if she is our friend or rival. Does she have suitors etc.
>>5951197>>5950755Hanging out with Conlin it is.
You needed to take your mind off things, you needed to have some fun. That meant one person, and you knew where to find him.Down from the palace the stink of the city grew strong, but it was at its strongest near the Oxen Gate. It was where the tanners and butchers did their work, and the stink and the filth of it fragranced the air as sure as it muddied the streets. It was, in a word, unpleasant. No one would live so close to such violent filth by choice, so the lanes and alleys around those trades became the haunts of the poorest and most hard lucked of your father's subjects.But you'd found the poor knew better than anyone how to make a good thing out of not very much. Taverns, smoke rooms, gambling dens and other places to discard virtues were rife through the warren called the Offals. You'd wasted plenty of time there, your identity carefully disguised, that you barely had to watch your step for the muck on looking for your oldest and cloest friend, Conlin Tomar.The Brass Lady was marked by a little bronze statue of a woman in a suggestive pose, a single breast bared, her metal face grinning up from an alcove in the stone wall.Within the stink of the Offals was matched by the stink of cheap tobacco, sour wine and watered beer. Customers ate the cheapest cuts of meat in loud conversation and crowded tables as on stage a girl wearing not much at all sang a song you weren't supposed to know, 'the Milking Maid, accompanied by a sawing fiddle and the dull beat of a dulcimer. No one was interested in her for her music.You wore a knife. Only a supreme idiot went into the Offals without a knife. Many of the other customers wore longer ones, some near the length of swords hanging underneath their coats. And it wasn't just the men so armed."Ric, looking for Con?" one of the barmaids asked as she sashayed by with a platter of pints, "He's in the back, in a game."Your skin prickled. Connie was in a game.In polite society you'd have doffed your coat, but the deeper into the bowels of the Brass Lady you went the tighter you clasped it. Until you found yourself up the back where the man who kept the peace sat, his iron studded cudgle between his feet, a deep frown on his lean, scarred face."Ric," Dove said. You don't know how a man as menacing as he was came by the name 'Dove' but you took it for knowing irony. "The idiot is in the back." "Losing?" you asked.Dove shook his head. "Worse, winning. Get him out of here before I have to throw him out."You nodded as you headed back. When the door closed it cut out much of the sound. The rooms back here were better lit and better perfumed, and a few smiling girls pointed you to where you needed to be.
A game was on hand, but not everyone was playing. A mild looking girl with sallow skin and deep acne scars across her cheeks shuffled the deck and dealt the cards, while a far finer figure in black silk filled the players' pipes. She smiled at you as she filed the pipe of a scrawny merchant. Her hair was near as perfectly black as her dress, her eyes finely tilted on a pale face. Though her dress went from beneath her chin dwn to her ankles, the silk so carefully hugged her figure it hid very little at all.Her smile made you forget for a minute you were here for your friend."Ric, good to see you," he said, barely checking over his shoulder. Conlin was not a handsome man. His front teeth jutted out in a way more than one person had compared to a rat, and he had a red blotch of a birth mark across his cheek and down his neck, as if he'd been splashed across the face with a cup of wine by some offended lady. His eyes were small in his face and too close together. Where ever he went he wore a long yellow coat a shade of old mustard that didn't suit him at all, and the broad brimmed hat of a cattle driver though you doubt he knew how to sit a horse.Yet somehow you'd found him in bed with two women, one of them married at that, both at the same time.The cards were dealt. He checked them."Blood and ashes," he muttered, as if by accident. But he had enough gold in his stack you doubted there had been any accidents. The dark clad woman filled his pipe, lit it for him and he took a puff, clouds swirling out around him. "Light in the dark, woman, what do you make of these?"He scooped her by the hip and onto his lap, showing her his hand."Quit fooling," one of his opponents, who was not a merchant but kept his hair covered in a dark red scarf that told you he was a knifeman for Hano Long, making him a bad man who worked for someone worse, "Back off him girl or I'll call ye's both a cheat.""Off you get, pet," Connie said, patting her off him, "We wouldn't want Ferros here to think I'm a cheater.""I knows you's a cheater, Conlin," Ferros said. He made no move to his knife, but everyone became aware of the knife, with its five distinct notches in its long bone handle. "Your own mother knows you's a cheat, Conlin. If you's breathin' you's cheatin', Conlin.""Did I come at a bad time?" you said, heart pounding under your mild tone. The air was thick with tobacco smoke, the girl's perfume, and the promise of violence."You've had a bad night, Ferros," Connie said, "We all have bad nights.""Your bad nights ain't been so bad though," the knifeman said, "Or not bad enough."The girl who had just slipped from your best friend's lap now came to your side, hands upon you but not quite clinging. You wish she stood a little closer.Connie kept his smile fixed, his eyes glittering on Ferros.
"That just leaves one of two things then, don't it?" Connie said, "You either draw that knife on your hip and we settle it, or you draw your next card, and we see who wins it."The two stared a moment, tense enough your skin prickled, the girl beside you drawing in a deep, excited breath. Connie didn't twitch a muscle. Neither did Ferros. Then the knifeman moved.And flicked a card into the centre."Draw one," he said, "And you keep your teeth tonight Conlin, out of respect for the dealer."The dealer nodded, sliding Ferros a new card."My mother will thank you," Connie said, then added, "Your mother will too.""MOTHER'S MILK!" And at that the table was kicked over showering coins and cards across the room, and the glint of steel as knives, knives plural, were drawn. Someone somewhere screamed. But over it all you heard your friend laugh.The right time indeed.>Grab Conlin and get out of there!>Draw your knife and back him up>Get yourself out of there, Connie could fix his own mess
>>5951409>Grab Conlin and get out of there!What an idiot.
>>5951409>Draw your knife and back him up
>>5951409>>Grab Conlin and get out of there!I knew it!Also, yeah, confirmed to be our Mat.
>>5951409>>Grab Conlin and get out of there!
>>5951866>>5951628>>5951531>>5951489ok!
Connie's laughter was swallowed by cursing when the glint of the knifeman's blade cut a swatch out of his coat, fleece poking through the gash. You grabbed your friend by the scruff and pulled him back, tipping over his chair and hauling him out of the path of a slash toward his face. If it had just been Hano Long's knifeman Connie might not have made it another three seconds, but the cursing and screaming spread as the other players decided now was a good time to settle old grudges and get back their coin, lunging across the room at each other to wrestle in the sawdust and pipe ash, kicking and gouging like a gang of wolverines fighting over mates.It didn't deter Ferros, though it forced the knifeman to swerve around two wrestling cattle drivers as he came for your friend."Let's get out of here!" you shout, dragging Connie back toward the door.You reached it in time for the door to burst open, Dove stomping in swinging his iron capped cudgel with little concern for who it hit. He nearly stoved your skull in, spitting foam in a rage as he went to work sorting out the riff raff. You ducked under his cudgel, pulling Connie with you as you bolted out under the big man. It would have been a fine end for a Prince of Falme, killed in a tavern brawl by an overeager bouncer.Connie was laughing again as you pulled him out of the smoke shrouded room but you gave another sharp curse at the sight of the brawl being picked up out in the common room, the rough patrons of the Brass Lady always eager for a scrap. Girls scurried for safety as cattle drivers in from a long muster had it out with Offal born street scum while the merchants scurried for safety, a few of their guards hanging back to join in on the fun and protect their employers' retreats.There was a gap to the open door. A quick sprint would get you to safety through the corridor of human bodies wrestling around you. You sucked in a hiss, your grip on Connie's collar tightening."Bloody ashes," you muttered."Back here, quick!" a voice to the side and you saw the dark haired woman in clinging black silk from the card room beckon to you toward an open door, eyes wide in an anxious face.You look back to the entrance.>Take a risk and sprint for the exit>Follow the raven haired lady
sorry for the late update
>>5952612>Follow the raven haired ladyNo problem Illuminator. Take whatever time you need.
>>5952612>>Follow the raven haired lady
>>5952612> Follow the raven haired lady
>>5952612>Follow the raven haired ladySeems like the safe bet, right? Not the lizard brain taking the lead here, at all...
>>5946827You good, OP?
>>5961050He's with Robert now
>>5952612>Follow the raven haired lady
>>5946827Could someone archive this in sup tg for posterity?Damn shame.
