POOHEAD189

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

"How come you by that mark, wretched and accursed?" It asked, and its voice had a malleable quality to it, as if it was made through the vibration of water rather than air. The air itself seemed to respond, and she could feel the voice on her skin as the second hand vibrations bounced across the ship. Jocasta crossed her arms, and glanced at Beren, who was still out cold. She had checked his pulse to make sure he was fine, but now he seemed to merely be asleep. With trepidation, she began to tell the tale of her encounter with the demon, and Beren's apparent death and revitalization, something he was still not wholly aware of. Her words poured out of her like a loosened faucet, spilling into the air, and without even realizing, she had even gone so far as to tell the tale of Iskura and their discovery of the dwarves, as well as their adventures in the deep beneath the world.

When she was done, she realized the eldritch thing had come closer, its eyes aglow with a rheumy yellow light. It watched her in unnerving silence for many moments, its shape in the water vast. Her dragonflies had returned to her, zipping around to inform her of priceless treasures and glyphs that even the greybeard of the Mythrim Tethir might have never seen. The mechanisms of the ship itself seemed derelict yet advanced beyond modern engineering.

"You have spoken truth." It rumbled slowly, as if contemplating some unknown mystery despite its words. "I have been here since the forging of the world, and I will be here long after your descendants are dead. But I sense in you a heart that does not match the mark upon yourself, nor does it match the one with whom you travel. But there are those who dwell in the deep who would ask such questions and carve it out of you, would use you to their own ends." A weight seemed to lift, and waters around the ship began to calm. They no longer seemed as if they were to rush in and crush them at a moment's notice. "I cannot remove the mark, but I can send you far from here, where your patron cannot follow without great difficulty. This will be my gift to you..."

The figure began to fade into the murk of the deep, and suddenly there was a change in the air pressure. The ship began to rumble, and it became clear she had no time to examine the ship. Water began to fall from above, and the last thing she remembered was a feeling of sleepiness falling over, like a great wave.

---

Beren's first realization was coughing, and a sluggish weight to his form. He rolled over, only to find his face pressed against a soft cheek. Groaning, the warrior monk opened his eyes, and realized he could see nothing. Absolutely nothing. He suddenly sat up, and realized he had felt Jocasta's soft breath against his skin moments before. He placed his hands on where he knew she lay, gently rocking her. Underneath them was sand, and while that was strange enough, he felt almost every sound he took to move was echoing softly, as if they were both in a very small chamber.

His hair still felt somewhat damp, and as Jocasta roused, he remembered seeing her sinking beneath the waves and the subsequent pulling of her form. The darkness of the water had become almost as oppressive as the pitch black they now found themselves in, but as to where they were or if Buri was nearby, he could not say.

"Jo," he whispered. Despite the pains he took to keep quiet, the words cut through the silence like a newly sharpened scimitar. "Jo, are you good?"

Shields of the Empire

"Seventy three cataphracts dead, Protos Kapetanos. And one hundred and twenty protostates. Over three hundred wounded."

Brasidas could smell the blood on his face, the excrement from released bowels of dead men, and the heat made both all the more pungent. The mixed stench was almost an old friend to him at this point, like the smell of woodsmoke during the winter, or the aroma of fresh water at summer's height. They brought back memories of earlier battles, and briefly he wondered how many more he might live through, or whether he would fight until the end of the world.

His contemplation passed quickly, and he nodded to the tetrarch. "Better than I had thought." He confessed. It seemed the Khareeds had not had the spirit to fight this day. They were lucky. It could have been the water they had drank the day before, the food could have been bad, their spirits low from some issue back home, or the will of the gods. He would not spit on good fortune. "Drag the enemy dead into a pile, and our men into another. Erect the Nimeia."

Brasidas spent another moment remembering the smell and the heat of the day. Another battle. Then he went with his tetrarch, dragging bodies and piling them along with his men. It took a quarter of an hour to help the wounded on horses and roughly erect both piles of men. The enemy dead towered over their own, and with a light addition of black wine atop their own dead, they burned them and praised Ares and Hades. For the mound of ravaged enemy corpses, they left them bare to rot in the sun, and before it was a small statue of a protostate made of gathered weapons and shields; a monument to their victory the Khareeds would find the next day, next to the decaying corpses of their own dead.

As the men took a needed drink from their flasks, Brasidas found Tychon lugging the last of the enemy dead, throwing two men at a time nearly a dozen feet into the air. Brasidas gave a smile that showed his teeth.

"Well done. I'm sure the ladies will love to hear how far you can throw dead men."

"Flattery is not your strong suit, old friend." Tychon remarked, wiping his nose with the back of his massive hand. "So we're off to see the amazons?"

"I must confer with Phaedra on our next move." He said, nodding. Whenever they spoke, they had a way of barely suppressing smiles, as brothers often did. "Want to tag along?"

"Sure, let the enemy scouts bake in the sun a bit longer as we speak."

Cogs in the Wheel: WoT RP

"We are in your debt." Davian said, giving a bow to the captain to give at least a show of politeness. Despite the attempt, the man waved him off with a grunt.

"Just because I can hook a shark from a boat, I do not offer to wrestle it in the water." The Captain muttered, stepping away. Davian was not sure of the exact meaning, but he could hazard a guess. He turned away, hearing two men hauling one of the lines begin to whisper to one another, 'glad they were dealing with a sea folk woman rather than an aes sedai' they said. He hid a sardonic smile. In the distance, he fancied he heard yelling, and the lines of men and women on the docks were replaced with a more organized distribution of distant figures. Apparently The Defenders had arrived just a minute too late.

Davian pulled aside one of the crew, the man carrying a think timbered box in his bare arms. "Where can we put our steeds?"

The man shrugged Davian's hand off of him with a scowl. "The aft door, now leave me be, thief."

Davian let the matter drop. The men on the boat all held one eye on he and the aes sedai, and he could not necessarily blame them. He recognized a few Taraboners and Illainers amongst the Tearian and Andoran majority. At least none were sea folk that might be able to tell the aes sedai was lying, if lying one could call it. Davian would, but she might not. He then realized something, and filtered back through his memory to when he had spoken to her, before the chase through the street.

---

The Captain, a man named Farth Balgon, had granted them what quarters they could get, which was a cramped little space with a door and a bed. The aes sedai had insisted they bring it a hammock as well and set it up so Davian could have a place to sleep, and he was not certain if he should be insulted she had claimed the bed off hand or had gone to the length to find him a suitable subsitute. Either way, once their quarters had been settled, the two of them joined the crew in the kitchens for supper for a brief period. The men gave them a wide berth and shied away from even looking in their direction, though Davian felt eyes wherever he did not face.

After dinner, he ushered the aes sedai into their quarters, telling the captain they needed to retire early. He gave them a noncommital grunt, though he seemed to step lightly wherever Sakura was concerned.

After Davian shut the door, he turned to the aes sedai and took the only chair in the room, offering she sit on the small cot she had procured. She still wore the garb of the Athan’miere, and though it was fetching on her, it was a reminder that not all was likely what it appeared. He was used to being more charming or forthright with women, but even now he felt he should tread carefully with an aes sedai, so he gesticulated with his hand as if to invite her to an open dialogue and said. "I do not trust the walls here very much, but even still, you have not asked me why I rescued you in the Stone. And since you have not, I think I shall initiate the questions. Tell me, what was your true purpose in Tear, and what is your full name? Unless you wish for me to call you Mistress Sakura after we reach land. If we're to travel together, I require honesty, not..." He glanced at the door, and then spoke softly. "-tower honesty."

Worcestershire sauce?

War chester shire

Cogs in the Wheel: WoT RP

Davian and Zoya clodded out of the gates on steeds of esteemed breeding, fit for the High Lords of Tear themselves. Zoya rode a splended white mare, and Davian was astride a dappled stallion. The two of them rode behind an carriage, likely to head for the docks and be brought back before day's end laden with goods. Davian was unsure if the men had recollected themselves and reported him being an accomplice of Zoya, or if the bodies had merely been discovered and they were seeking only the Aes Sedai. Either way, it felt safer going with a third party to not seem too suspicious riding out of the gates. It worked, light be praised, for a good quarter of a mile.

But a group of twenty defenders and two armored cavalrymen were marching back to the Stone, when one of the riders, a man of dark hair and a hook nose, squinted at Zoya suspiciously. Davian did not glance his way, urging the Aes Sedai on until they heard a call of "halt!" behind them.

Suddenly, some unseen force struck the cavalryman off his horse. The man fell onto three of his fellows, and Davian whipped the reins of his horse just as Zoya did, both turning right to barrel down a causeway. A men carrying a tray of turnips screamed and tossed his goods aside, scrambling out of the way before he was bowled over by the steeds charging into the busy street.

"Stop!" A voice yelled.

"You'll not get away so easily, witch!" Another cried with ardent fervor that would make the Children of the Light proud. The thief and the thief-taker charged past wagons, nearly ramming into men and women who squealed and shrieked from the heavy mounts. A woman yanked a child out of the way, but Davian fancied he saw the child fly to the right far quicker than his mother could have moved him with her own strength.

"This way!" He shouted, pointing left. The street turned onto a terraced walkway, their well shod hooved clapping loudly against the sandstone. The breadth of the Erinin appeared before them. The horses whinnied in fright from the steps, but at Davian's call they now slowed, changing their gallop to a canter. It was lucky for them that the only patrol that had seen them had yet made it to the gates. That meant at best twenty Defenders on foot would be searching for them, whilst the cavalrymen likely had ridden to report their sighting to the Stone. They still had some time to be hidden and make their escape, as long as the ships left when they desired.

Somehow, what the Aes Sedai prophesied was true. A large caravel with wide foresails were taking the last man aboard, hustling onto the deck before the gangway was removed.

"Hurry!" Zoya cried with all the command of an Aes Sedai of Tar Valon, and urged her mount on. Her white mare shrieked, and Zoya took the lead to tear into the docks with Davian in her wake.

Space Dogs: Hired Guns in a Crumbling Empire

Markus groaned, grabbing the door panels and pulling himself into the cockpit, easing down into the command chair. He tried to tell himself he had been in rougher situations before, but even the campaign on Caraxes or the Battle of Gersemi might not live up to this farce. Behind him, even over the ever higher volume of the atmosphere's roar outside of the transport, he heard Jocasta rummaging around, before she slide up into the co-pilot's chair whilst pocketing a few extra dablunz and some gum she had found. Her seatbelt clicked audibly, but before she could help Markus shot her a look, and she placed her hands in her lap and fluttered her lashes in faux innocence.

"Don't touch anything." He told her, flipping up three panels. The hatches along the side of the transport opened, and the drag-flaps were released. Ideally they were meant to slow down the vessel in orbit, but they began to hear a shudder as the entire transport bucked and wriggled, scorching red now ensconsing the entire transport. There was a great, dry crack, and Jocasta looked back and dropped her jaw when she noticed the back half of the transport had broken off. The lost souls of the remaining crew now taken into the aether.

"I think we lost something." Markus said, and though it sounded like a quip, he wasn't smiling. The transport's control panel was foreign to him in many ways. He could not begin to guess why the authorities had picked up two apparently highly valued fugitives with a piece of shit rig from a bygone era, but he needed to work with what they had. Markus pointed at the panel next to Jocasta's left. "Pull that," he ordered. She did so, and Markus flipped a switch before grabbing the throttle. Suddenly, what sounded like wind blown through a hose gushed around them. Markus had switched all power to the emergency repulsors, having been unable to angle the vehicle into a position that gave them less friction in reentry. Luckily for them, the shuttle was blunt and wide, which reduced their speed, but it wouldn't help them much if they still hit the planet at mach 3.

Moments turned to a minute, and through careful maneuvering, Markus was able to turn the shuttle facing Mazda. The steeper the angle relative to the planet's center of mass the less friction there is, but while friction would burn them apart, it helped slow their speed.

"How fast are we going?" Markus asked. Jocasta flipped open panels and scrambled to find it, only for Markus to point to the top left of the panel and she looked up.

"Uhm, mach 2!"

Her heart almost leaped into her throat when Markus abruptly yanked on the throttle, and the shuttle, or what was left of it, lurched. They had entered the troposphere, and within moments the flames had been doused and replaced by steam. It was not readily apparently, but Markus had abruptly changed course to better glide, and they had pierced into a collection of tall rain clouds. He had switched the repulsors off, but a minute later, once they broke through and all was sunshine and endless land, he restarted them.

What followed was a long, rocky fall that saw them flying past picturesque lakes, cities, roads, woods, until finally Markus yelled for Jocasta to hold on, and the ship barreled into a copse of vast trees, shattering them and sending the shuttle careening end over end to crash onto a large grassy field. Dirt and grass and scattered kindling burst into the air, and it felt like hours before the spinning had stopped.

The sun's rays could be seen above, or below, Markus realized, when he found he was hanging from his seat three meters above the ground. All around him, walls of ceramsteel and endless wires of electronics were scattered like they were pulled apart and placed into an abstract painting of old earth. Markus felt bruised, and there was a gash on his forehead and a long cut on his arm that dripped blood, but otherwise he was fine. Before he could wonder about Jocasta, he heard her coughing from below him. He swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat before unbuckling his seatbelt and toppling to the ground. He hit the grass with a thud, and then dragged himself to his feet to stumble out of the wreckage just as Jocasta did.

"That was rougher than I was expecting, but the best romps always are." Jocasta quipped, breathing heavily. Her hair was now a vibrant earthy brown. Markus didn't say anything to her. He caught his breath, and then plunged back into the wreckage, pulling broken plates and chairs out of his way, scavenging like a jackal. Jocasta heard him curse, and called in. "What are you doing!?"

Markus stepped out a moment later, dragging one of the guard's corpses out with a medikit under his arm. She had to repeat the question before he answered, and when he did he gave her a curst: "I'm going back."

"W-..." She started, getting to her feet. She glanced into the sky as if she could see The God's Eye from their position, then looked back at her companion. "Going back? Why?"

"To get my blade..." He said, wrapping a bandage around his arm, the adhesive making a loud zrrrrrrrrriiip as he did so, before he bit if off. "To get my money..." The mercenary wiped the blood from his forehead with a swab, placing some gel on it to keep it from bleeding, and then dropped all the rest back into the kid. He coughed, blinking. "And to get some payback..."

Jocasta blew her fringe out of her eyes, crossing her arms under her chest. "Well, I did see a starship hub a few miles away."

"I'm going back alone." He told her, turning back to the corpse. He slung the rifle the corpse had across his torso, and then picked up the shock baton. He pushed it in with a 'click.' Jocasta was right, there was a hub not too far, if he wasn't mistaken. He could pawn or more likely steal a transport there and get back into the air before anyone even knew something had gone amiss with the transport.

Jo approached him sweeping her hands out. How she hadn't got more than a scratch, or how he had only gotten two, was a mystery to him. "Whoa, you cannot get rid of me that easily! You owe me."

He slid the baton into his pocket. "You saved my life. I saved yours. We're squared."

"No, you owe me a beer." She reminded him. "And you owe me my half of the money. I didn't survive all of this just to lose everything." It was a point he sympathized with, but Markus was stubborn. He still was not sure why she wanted to help. He was a war veteran, and a fugitive, an extrasolar fugitive. As far as he was concerned, she could do whatever she wanted with her life as long as she got the hell out of the Eurymaces system. "Besides, it's suicide to go alone. Hell, it's probably suicide to go at all."

"I'm not going back to live. I'm going back to give Gallanis a massive headache." He said, tiring of the talk.

"And who is more of a headache than me?" She asked, and when her words sunk in, he put in a valiant effort, but in the end he did snort and flash a small smile. She smiled too, and continued. "Look, I know you're going for the aloof bad boy vibe. Don't get me wrong, it works. But maybe there's a better way. I think I got a plan."

"Better than the atmospheric reentry one?" He asked, and then bent down to the other items he had collected.

"Much better." She said triumphantly. She was so satisfied with Markus evidently agreeing, she didn't expect the rifle and shock baton he tossed her way, Deftly she caught both, but the baton was slick with blood, and she curled her lip in distaste. "Eugh!"

Space Dogs: Hired Guns in a Crumbling Empire

"Agreed," Markus said, taking his seat in the cockpit and preparing the ship for launch. He set the three SCA beacons active and activated the power systems, before charging the short propulsion lift. Soon the transport thrummed with life, and Markus received clearance from control, happy to see no one expected anything amiss from the station. Jocasta finished inputting a system's analysis before giving the thumbs up the ship was acceptable for travel.

The transport lifted up steadily, and with an ease of many flight hours, Markus took her out through the hanger shields and into the void. Life support systems activated and rumbled, clean air filtered through the vents. For a moment, Markus had the idea to eject the mutant anyway, but he had given his word it was her decision and let it go. They'd let him out after the job was done.

"So, what's with your hair?" Markus asked, without so much as glancing at his partner.

"I'll tell you once we we finish this up," She said.

"Fair enough."

---

2 Hours Later...

The back rooms of Adan Gallanis's suit were lavishly furnished, cushioned chairs and pristine tables bedecked with velvet banners. The carpets were clean and soft, and yet the busts and iconography were particularly spartan, bespeaking the long martial past of the moon, Ahura. Markus had not believed the station was this large, but both he, Jocasta, and two guards continued down long halls and banquet rooms into they reached a purpose-made meeting room.

On the back wall was a huge mural of The Ride of the Valkyries by Johan Gustaf Sandberg, and the wall to its left held two 'windows' that were merely holograms of a peaceful lakeside view, both framed by elaborate purple drapes a medieval king might have. There were two dining tables, but the guards bade Markus and Jocasta sit on the long couch under the mural as they waited. Their weapons had been left behind on the transport, and Gallanis's son's prone form had been taken from them as soon as they had arrived and alerted the baron of their success.

As for the man himself, it took only a few moments of waiting for Adan Gallanis himself to make his entrance, stepping out of another door, likely to more private chambers. Behind him accompanied a servant with glasses and a bottle of what Markus guessed was some vintage of wine.

"Ah, to the victors go the spoils!" Gallanis said, gently clapping his hands together, a smile on his face. He wore a comfortable and resplendent indigo coat. He pulled up a chair and sat himself before both Markus and Jocasta as the servant placed the bucket of ice down, removing the wine and pouring a glass with a fine deftness. "Would you care for a drink?"

Markus opened his mouth to speak, but Jocasta shook her head and pointed at Markus with a thumb. "This one promised the next drinks would be on his tab. Can't let him weasel out of that." She said, but Markus surmised she was simply being careful. That and anything that postponed the payment was an obstacle. Baron Gallanis inclined his head, and merely took his own glass in his hand.

"Very well. Now, first allow me to congratulate you on your resourcefulness. Not many mercenaries or bounty hunters could have done what you two did. In fact I am so impressed, I wish I could employ you for future jobs. I know I'll be needed good guns for hire." As he spoke, the servant filled his cup and then stepped back without a word. The baron placed it to his lips and sipped, savoring the taste. He gave a satisfied 'ahh' and placed the cup down on the table. "Unfortunately, you two won't be in the market after this job."

"Even with a sizeable payday, I don't know if I'll hang my sword up just yet." Markus remarked.

"Your sword, yes! A Secare Sabre, if I am not mistaken? I wonder, are you a veteran of the Caraxes Campaign, or did you kill a man who was and took his sword? Either way, you're a dangerous man. And you, my dear, such intelligence with such beauty, and with a taste of showmanship! Your infiltration of my meeting was well done." He stated with good humor, but within moments, the mirth faded from his eyes. "But... I was not entirely honest with you. Truth be told, I had thought the White Sharks would not be defeated, and that a large group of mercenaries attacking would be seen as a breach of security and faith on Mazda's part, but you two actually succeeded. My gratitude notwithstanding, I do have to confess that the man you captured was not my son. He is the heir to the Lerouxe household that rules over Mazda, and now thanks to you, I have him as a bargaining chip. And alas, while I consolidate my position, I'll need to feed Mazda with the two responsible for the heir's disappearance, which is, unfortunately, the two of you."

As he spoke the final words, the two guards that had escorted them aimed their plasma rifles at Jocasta and Markus, the lights on their barrels brightening as their safeties were taken off.

---

The Gods Eye held a small, private prison for malcontents and political prisoners, and Markus was unsure which he would consider himself at the moment. The walls were a meter thick of pherocrete, each cell being large enough to house a maximum of two individuals. Across from their cell, through the bars that were rigged to shock anyone who touched them, there was a cell with a bed and a toilet, and even a sink. Markus was unsure if they had been placed across from it to taunt them, as both Markus and Jocasta were not only in a space that was every inch bare, hard, and cold, but their arms were shackled above their heads with manacles of titanium-C, the same material the entire space station was made of.

As they had been taken away, Gallanis had told them they would be retrieved by Mazda officials tomorrow, in approximately 1800 hours. Their food, water, and any other basic needs could be seen to by the jailers that arrived to collect them. As it was, the baron took no chances with them.

Markus's dark, unkempt mane of hair cascaded down before his face and shoulders. He looked very much the part of a dangerous, albeit somewhat comely, marauder that had been caught by the rightful authorities.

Cogs in the Wheel: WoT RP

The Aes Sedai was exhausted from her use of the One Power, which made Davian a bit more comfortable being around her, but it also made escaping a bit more complicated. The thief-taker ushered her out of the gaol and escorted her as best he could to the servant's quearters close by. He had only been in the Stone for less than two weeks and had spent the majority of his time in the city, but he knew the rough outline of the place. They passed by maids and servants who more or less did not look their way save for a few curious glances, but Davian knew they would eventually get unlucky and run into someone who recognized one or both of them.

Down a short corridor, the lean man pulled Zoya into a room of cloths, blankets, and towels. He swiftly rummaged through stacks of the thicker, less intricately designed sheets and found one that was bland enough to serve the purpose he was searching for. He then pulled a more embroidered, bright red cloth out from under a pile and measured it with his arm, pursing his lips.

"Turn around," He told Zoya. She merely looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He sighed. "Turn around please, Sakura-Sedai."

"That's better," she said, clearly not used to being pulled anywhere, particularly by a man. She stepped away, but before she could ask the purpose, Davian had enshrouded her in the sheet and she gave a girlish squeak that was particularly un-Aes Sedai like. "We can't hide you're a woman with that body, but we can make you appear not as you are."

"Don't speak of me in such familiar terms." She warned him as he placed it around her form like a cloak.

"I'm just being pragmatic." He said, next wrapping her hair in a blue sheet of golden trim, and then grabbing the smaller red cloth, wrapping it around her waist and clinching it emphasize her hourglass figure. "If we get out of here, you can thank me again."

He stepped back, and she peered down and then glanced at a window to view her reflection. It dawned on her very quickly, as he had expected. She was an intelligent woman. "While I don't think it quite fits the bill, this is not a bad attempt at making me one of the Atha'an Miere. At least at a passable glance."

"That's all we will allow anyone to see." He said, inclining his head with a swift and subtle nod. It was too bad she was Aes Sedai, she was truly did catch the eye. Hopefully, once they had escaped, there would be a reward or at least a suitable compensation for his trouble, but the more realistic part of him knew that was not coming. He had put her in the cell in the first place, after all. Davian cursed himself silently, knowing no matter how he sliced his time in Tear, he was a fool. Either for capturing her or breaking her out, one of those was a failure that would see his time here wasted. Some thief-taker he was. "Follow me, we must reach the stables."

"Once we do, I will lead us out." She said imperiously. He opened his mouth to argue, but she had already begun to open the door and step into the hallway. He hurried out with her and took the lead, wondering why all the world he had rescued an Aes Sedai with an attitude.

Dragon Age: The Grey Dawn

I shall join, and I shall tag @Shu and @Penny as well

Cogs in the Wheel: WoT RP

"From trophies the Aiel carried, it was obvious they were coming back from the Blight. The Trollocs had followed, but by the tracks only a few lived to return after killing the Aiel. As for the girl, she would not let anyone touch her, even to tend her wounds. But she seized the Seeker of that band by his coat, and this is what she said, word for word. 'Leafblighter means to blind the Eye of the World, Lost One. He means to slay the Great Serpent. Warn the People, Lost One. Sightburner comes. Tell them to stand ready for the end. Tell them ...' And then she died."

Smoke wafted lazily out of the storyteller's pipe as the common room went quiet. Only the soft thuds of mugs setting down on wooden tabletops could be heard, as if the very world held its breath. Davian stared into his own cup, worry rising in his gullet. Not because he feared for the world at large, but because he knew his mind was changing already.

After they had announced their intentions to kill the thief-woman, Davian had felt regret rise in his throat. It was an old feeling, and one he quite disliked. Not that he felt he did wrong by bringing a thief to justice, but before they even discovered what she had stolen, they had thought to execute her! He had no love for Aes Sedai, but it was not justice in the way he had imagined. Davian had hunted less reputable men for other men to get petty vengeances, he was not above such things if he could fill his belly. However, the High Lords were a reputable body and people he had assumed were to grant him the chance to make a name for himself in the south. Now, he knew not only were they going to keep their association a secret, but they were going to simply snip the head off the Aes Sedai without even speaking to her.

He had left the Stone to grab himself a drink, making himself put one foot in front of the other for the money. It was not his business, he told himself. He had performed his duties and had done it well. Now he would wait for his payment...

But then the light blasted storyteller walked into the common room. Someone without the flair of a true gleeman but with a voice that could captivate a crowd, only this night it was not of rumors in Illain, but portents of doom. Thunder and fire, Aiel, the roof of the world. He listened despite himself, and it only honed in just how poorly he felt of the whole situation. And he felt it in his gut as well. Witches they might be, but Aes Sedai were the largest thorns in the side of the dark one.

"Blood and bloody ashes." He cursed, downing the last of his ale.

---

One Hour later...

Davian could feel nothing, see nothing. The flows of Saidar were as translucent to him as still air, and yet he saw the men being immobilized and flung back as if they were naught but toys. All save the last man, who gave a heroic effort to thrust his pike forward and end the woman's life. Even now Davian was unsure of what to do. He had convinced himself to save her, but seeing the power now wielded in front of him, it was unnatural, unsettling. He almost understood the Whitecloaks and their ravings about the Tar Valon heresies. For a moment he felt it would be best to stay in the shadows, watch the woman die, and collect his payment.

And yet he found himself walking forward, saw himself take out his mace, and bludgeoned the pikeman on the back of the head. He saw the woman's eyes widen in surprise, and Davian's gaze met hers, locking for a moment. He then turned and proceeded to do the same to every man caught in her web, knocking them either unconscious or senseless. There was little blood, he was good at hitting someone without causing much damage to their body if need be. Once finished, standing over the last Defender, he glanced at her.

"I will let you out of there. Just don't fling me around as well, deal?"