First Encounter

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First Encounter; ATTN: Zakriid
Topic Started: Dec 1 2008, 02:03 AM (117 Views)
Jack	Dec 1 2008, 02:03 AM Post #1
Dedicated Posts: 11 Group: Dedicated Member #312 Joined: November 29, 2008	Jack left the small Inn that he had called home for the past two days. It was the cheapest one it town his father hadn’t given a very large budget for this little adventure. That was understandable though what he was going to do in Aringill would become very public as soon as it was found, he didn’t want to stand out. Pulling the black coat off of his shoulders he swung it around and quickly put it on, it was winter after all. He left the jacket undone showing off the white shirt underneath it giving him easy access to the inner pocket where the light black scarf was hidden away. Reaching into the pockets of his pants he felt the coins knowing that he had two silver Andoran marks, a gold Tearen mark, and an assortment of pennies mostly from Carhien. Putting on a cold smile he started to walk down the street he wasn’t in a hurry knowing that what he needed to do would take place that night, which was still a few hours off. It wouldn’t take him that long to get where he needed to go. Although he didn’t hurry he kept the general direction of his walk in line with where he wanted to end up. “Meat Pies!” He heard a woman shout from the intersection he was about to cross. Walking to her he stopped and looked at the pies, they looked freshly baked and he hadn’t ate that day. “How much?” He asked and when she told him the price he reached into the pocket with the loose coins and pulled out enough to cover for the pie. After the money was transferred the woman picked up a pie and wrapped it in a tan cloth after she was satisfied with the product she handed it over. Jack walked away with out saying another word, taking the cloth off the pie he dropped it to the ground thinking it a waste of time. Taking a bite he was satisfied it tasted as good as it looked. When he was done he reached into his pocket and pulled out his own handkerchief and wiped his mouth if he had trusted where the tan cloth had come from he might have considered keeping it. Later Jack stood in the darkness of an ally across the street from a fare sized walled complex with a small mansion hidden behind the tall wooden walls. He knew that the wall passed stupidly close to a window. Watching the sky darken and thousands of little lights in the sky spark up he lifted his hand to scratch an itch he had behind his ear before dawning his scarf wrapping it around his face much like the black veil of the Aiel. Looking both ways down the empty street to make sure that it actually was empty he sprinted towards the wall, when he got close enough he leapt as high as he could and landed with a slight crunch as the snow compacted under his feet. Swearing under his breath he crouched and looked around once again, he hadn’t been spotted. Again he sprinted forward careful to make any sound. When he neared the window he sped up and leapt once again clearing the distance between the wall and the building and landing gracefully inside, he was lucky that no one had decided to close it that day. After a quick search of the room he was sure that no one was there so he quickly left leaving no trace of himself behind. In the hallways he followed the directions given to him by a servant he had paid off, though of course he could not leave any strings behind he had slain the man after he got the information. It took him quiet a while to find the room that he was looking for, he had had to hind often to avoid notice but he had managed to not kill anyone so far that night. Slipping into the room where the man Victor slept he searched it finding no one there. He knew Victor would return sometime that night so he patently hid behind the door for that to happen. Finally after what felt like hours the door opened admitting Victor and a girl, Jack looked at the girl knowing that she could not be older than 12 he would have felt sympathy if he could. That emotion had been lashed out of him along with any other of the many softer emotions. When the door clicked shut Jack sprang forward as silent as night pulling the three inch blade that was the tool he used to do his job. Grabbing the girls head he stopped her forward movement and drove the danger into the base of her scull separating it from her spine. She dropped dead her warm blood dripping from the knife. Turning to Victor he struck before he could comprehend what had just happened driving his knife into the mans left eye. As he extracted the knife he twirled it in his hand to adjust his grip to busy to notice the slight flash of light that appeared when a gateway opened, he slammed the blade into the base of Victors skull killing him as effectively as he had just killed the girl he had been about to violate. Grabbing the collar of the dead mans jacket he lifted him from the ground pulling him to a plush chair and seating him in it. With one fluid motion he cut the shirt open revealing his naked chest. He then used the small knife to carve 1750 into his chest the bloody red numbers sending a clear message to his family “Pay your debt” Turning he was about to leave through the window when he heard a shuffle before the man that had silently stood there said Hello. “Blood and Bloody Ashe’s” Jack mumbled as he eyed the man up, he wasn’t even sure if it was a man and not a boy, he was almost the exact same size as Jack was. Jack stayed his hand though sensing that the one armed man was more dangerous than he seemed. Jack was soon proven correct.
	Jacks History OP Talents: Compulsion(M), Mind Sealing(m), and Healing(m) Non OP Talent: Ta’veren(M)


Zakriid	Dec 1 2008, 03:12 AM Post #2
Rei al'N'dore al'Mordero Posts: 94 Group: Asha'man Member #178 Joined: May 3, 2006	Zakriid reclined languidly in the black oak chair, carved from out of the forests in northern Cairhien. It was said that it was a king's tree, and therefore the wood was cursed. These alien-worlders had twisted Laman's Lore in bizarre ways, as far as the Baijin-M'Hael was concerned. The attack leader was now also a Rei of a Shen here, but more importantly than that fact was the in flux of old world men whom served under him, now a part of that self same Shen, bound as intricately as the rest to their common cause. That cause being whatever Zakriid's most enlightened opinion deemed necessary. As he lay there, at a most comfortable angle, toking on a cylinder of tobacco (none of that foul Two-Rivers tripe, solid Katari stock,) he stroked the whorls etched into the side of his breaker almost lovingly, and certainly most tenderly. What rods of dominion remained of the old world now laid with a chosen few, Zakriid among them. They had been taken from their positions of honour and tradition, from upholding law and justice, and thusly put to the war effort. It seemed sadly that his third war would be before him shortly. He'd already fought the true White Tower to a stand still, and then further fought a nigh unwinnable holocaust with the forces of Shadow at the End of Days. It seemed that this petty little border war between Illian and Tear was hardly worth the effort. Off hand, Zakriid could think of a half dozen ways to end the war before it started. The Shadow most definitely had a hand in things; better to place the nation under martial law. Liquidate every Noble, Magistrate, and Commander within it's borders. Once the highest levels of administration were removed, divvy up the plunder among the common rabble, promote any remaining underlings that were sympathetic to your cause or amenable to your gold, and expel those who weren't. In the roaring aftermath of the rush of the prolitariate and the peasantry, squabbling for all their shares of the old regime's holdings, the Towers could solidify their dominance upon a puppet, provisional government, and then never bother to appoint a permanent one. Stewards reigned just as well as Kings, and without any of that divine given right nonsense to back their claims of power. Zakriid drew back his lips from his teeth, snarling at the thought of the filthy crown heads. Ambercayuse had the right idea in his 'treaties of the common man,' when he'd proposed, when it came to the inmical dealings of kings and men: let the heads roll. Of course, Ambercayuse had been referring to a King's right to execute whom he wanted to preserve the integrity of his rule, but Zakriid figured if the honoured scholar were smarter, he'd have realised that the sentiment went both ways. As it was, Zakriid had Nine Pikes made ready in the Tar'Valon grounds, with a banner of the Nine Golden Bees arrayed underneath. That was it. A subtle spectacle, but most obvious upon further deliberation. The Council of Nine should feel warmth in their hearts at the notion that the Rei had arranged for a most magnificent final resting place for their heads. War of course was not the only thing to upset the Rei's concentration at relaxing, why there had also been rumours of Sarecer's foretelling. More and more vague doom and gloom, which really didn't inspire confidence in the old man. Still, he was useful in some respects, but abhorredly appalling in others. The last thing the world needed was another bloody prophecy influencing the Wheel. There would not be another Lord Dragon on Zakriid's watch. He'd kill anyone he had to, given the slightest scent of Ta'veren. They had a most horrible reputation for grizzly deaths any way, and Zakriid could find ways to make sure that their luck failed them. Tsking, Zakriid began to make short work of the reports on his new desk, tique and olive wood, a most resplendent mix of back and green; bound in iron and inlaid with gold. Those metals were the colours of the Shen, and they were such a lovely metaphor in and of themselves. Not bothering to elaborate, a quill began to scritch brusquely across parchment after parchment, etching out requirements and penning confirmations. The quill was ter'angreal, recovered from the stores, and would write without the need of ink bottles. It also prevented the work from being duplicated. Each letter produced unique unto the writer. This added an extra layer of authenticity and made forging Zakriid's work so terribly difficult, as to be considered impossible by any modern means. Letters were written in gleaming silver, as if metal had been forged onto the page. It was miraculous beyond even a meister silberschmidt. Hours wound by, and it was late in the professional day, at least where a day was measured by one who saw little sleep and much work. The redhead had just stifled a yawn and was considering turning in when there was a knock at his door. It had the coding of Banes, and the Rei wasted no time in baying the Asha'man to enter. "What have you got for me on word of potentiates, Banes?" Zakriid called out, needing an answer sooner than later. "There is one, ser. A boy, taken in by some sort of troupe of nameless." Zakriid's brows furrowed, nameless was a term used to describe assassin who specialised in not being known. Hardly a glorifiable past, Zakriid's frowning look communicated his thoughts clearly to Banes, who was quick to return. "Ser, you said that power and talent were more important than personality." A quirked brow settling into jaded laughter, "So I did, so I did. Very well then, take me to him Banes, and do hurry. Light knows I don't want to waste the night on some potentiate rabble. Just because I might be able to fabricate him into a messiah figure doesn't mean I will lose any sleep over the cur." And with that, the two were off, a gateway opened by Banes, with Zakriid the first to step through. They shadowed the young boy, watching his handiwork, to gain a greater appreciation of his potential. Weaves of Power obscured their existence from the world, and in the end, after the nameless boy's work was done; they made the show of opening another gateway, with Zakriid taking an overt approach this time. "Greetings," chanted the Rei, a broad grin spread across pale cream and freckled features. Blazing mismatched eyes boring into the lad, Zakriid idly waved a hand and the corpses dusted instantly to ash under the combined flows of Earth and Fire. A weave that was more commonly adapted for solving the Fused Tower's rather large sanitation problems, as a utility weave it had been over looked by most, but his Shen had taken great pains (from others) testing it to be adapted to organic in addition to inorganic materials. "There now, when you burn this place down it will seem as if the two were taken up in heart of the inferno. No doubt some candles or lanterns were tossed over amidst a fit of wild and crude rutting. Leave your messages in gold next time, not iron. Blood is weak, but property is forever. The insurance alone on this place may be enough to solve their problems; assuming they were smart enough to invest with the usuries against such an eventuality." The grin positively cut the Rei's face from ear to ear, sickly arrogant as it was. Spirit elementalism was the medium of the mind, and right now the redhead was laying a most obvious probe of that Element into the child's head, sifting through his looser thoughts. Normally something so obvious with the One Power would never work on a person, but the uninitiated mind was often oblivious to what was being done to it, and thus ignorant had no hope of fighting the unknown.
	"I watched my world burn under the arms of chaos and madness, who are you to judge me until it happens here? Follow my words and pray to the Light that it never come to that." -Zakriid, addressing a critic, right before pushing him into a skimming gateway. Spirit Elementalism


Jack	Dec 1 2008, 03:10 PM Post #3
Dedicated Posts: 11 Group: Dedicated Member #312 Joined: November 29, 2008	Jack watched as the man incinerated the man and girl that he had just killed. Anger bubbled inside of him, he had spent the last three days working towards this point. No he had spent the last 5 years training for this. What right had the man to come here and destroy the evidence of his first kill. Shifting his feet he wondered if he could throw the knife fast enough to surprise the man he was staring at. It was almost as if the man could read his thoughts the condescending smile on his face telling Jack that he couldn’t be surprised by the likes of him. “Property can be rebuilt a poor lesson in safety is all that they would get.” Jack replied, “Blood is a lot hardy to replace that a building such as this one. It hurts more to most people and my employers would rather cause pain than an inconvenience. This family has the ability to pay they just think they can do so when ever they like. Now someone else is going to have to die. Though you do not look like a man that would cringe at the thought.” Jack returned the mans smile with one of his own. “Oh ya,” Jack said. “You owe me 150 gold Andoran marks I do not get paid for burning down a house even if the man I was sent to kill disappeared.” It was then that he noticed the other man standing in the shadows, Jack felt a little trapped but he managed to keep it off of his face. His grip tightened on the handle of his blade knowing full well that if it came to a fight he would die, he decided it would be better to just escape. “People are worth less than property, there is only one location here. There are thousands of slaves and servants in the world, more agents recruited more family bred. Asha’man live for centuries, the fused towers stay and stay, faces come and go.” The little man replied to him in a tone that told Jack that that was the way things were at least in his mind. But Jack knew that the death of a family member was often viewed as a irreplaceable loss. He kept his mouth shut though he wasn’t there for the pleasure of speaking, his mind calculated instead. Three running steps and leap would take him out of the room, he would start with his right leg so that he could push off with it with his last step being planted. He began the movement but his feet stayed where they were not moving an inch, this caused him to stumble and fall awkwardly to the ground. “I suppose you do not wish for me to leave yet,” He said to the man replacing his scowl with a cold smile of his own. He had missed the clue in the mans little speech that named them Asha’man he cursed himself for this mistake. Twirling his knife he placed it back in the leather sheath sown into his belt and put his hands on my hip. He would not be knife fighting with a man that could tear him to peaces with out ever leaving a mess. “I’ll have my gold now, perhaps you can add another 50 marks for this inconvenience.” He said pointing to his feet. “Who are you two, and why are you here?”
	Jacks History OP Talents: Compulsion(M), Mind Sealing(m), and Healing(m) Non OP Talent: Ta’veren(M)


Zakriid	Dec 1 2008, 10:51 PM Post #4
Rei al'N'dore al'Mordero Posts: 94 Group: Asha'man Member #178 Joined: May 3, 2006	“Property can be rebuilt a poor lesson in safety is all that they would get. Blood is a lot hardy to replace that a building such as this one. It hurts more to most people and my employers would rather cause pain than an inconvenience. This family has the ability to pay they just think they can do so when ever they like. Now someone else is going to have to die. Though you do not look like a man that would cringe at the thought. Oh ya, You owe me 150 gold Andorran marks I do not get paid for burning down a house even if the man I was sent to kill disappeared.” Wearing the raven gear, Zakriid was grinning back as the little boy smiled, finding his need to argue making things go much more difficult than they had to be. A wild mustang, the redhead would have to break the boy in, bring him to heel. Sharp tongues and sharp steel could get you killed. Zakriid eyed the boy's toy, almost sneering as he did; the use of such a weapon was so terribly.... common. Was this creature truly a baseborn thing, to cling to blades so readily when other weapons had much more appeal? Zakriid rebuffed the child's absurd claims with an almost Seanchan drawl, his tone so lazy as to be bored. "You have mixed up your priorities boy. The cost in labour, materials, and time mean more than family and friends. If you want a staying message, you attack a person's wallet. Moreover, if you think blood is so valuable, you've obviously never been down whore's alley. Tell me, have you even visited a brothel, or are you still chaste at your age?" At this, Zakriid laughed ruefully. "A fist full of coppers will buy you all the new family you need, where as the gold that will be poured into this place after you burn it down....." Zakriid let the sentence trail off, not interested in reiterating. "Agents, servants, and slaves can be acquired most readily, and much cheaper than you think you are worth, I'm sure; why for only 150 gold marks, you certainly are cheap property. People are worth less than property, there is only one location here. There are thousands of slaves and servants in the world, more agents recruited and more family bred. Asha'man live for centuries, the fused towers stay and stay, faces come and go.” It was amusing, watching the escape plan bubble in the boy's mind, before the boy even realised it himself. There is was, beneath the surface, rising to the top, where the boy became mentally aware of it. The tendrils of Spirit tickled the cerebrum, and Zakriid jammed a probe in to seize up motor control. Some Aes Sedai witch might waste time with Air, where as the Rei preferred the direct approach. Kill the nerve centre commanding motion, rather than binding in Hard Air. The boy stumbled. “I suppose you do not wish for me to leave yet,” Zakriid smiled grimly as the boy spoke, ignoring the knife play and the temptation to stem the motor control to that arm, answering with, "Wishes are fishes fled and dead boy. I did not give you leave to go, and so you have stayed." “I'll have my gold now, perhaps you can add another 50 marks for this inconvenience.” Zakriid made a show of raising the neat eyebrows above mismatched eyes and freckled cheeks, going so far as to dance out the numbers on his fingers. "My, my, what a greedy little whore you are; consider yourself an expensive tart now, do ya?" Gesturing over his shoulder to the shadowy man behind him, Zakriid said, "Banes, get your ashed self over here and pay the lad, 201 gold marks, Andorran cut I think." Banes did as he was bayed, counting out the marks swiftly into a leather pouch and tossing it at the boy's feet, before retaking his position by the gateway. “Who are you two, and why are you here?” "Sand in your ears by chance, boy? I am Warmaster, and this is Stormleader; since I doubt your clumsy mouth could handle titles of the Old Tongue. You have been paid for, you are now my property. You have been mistaken in that you were sent here to kill a person, you are mistaken that you have killed anyone... ever! And you are further mistaken that you will kill anyone else, nor you will remember starting the fire that you will make. These two here died in the accidental fire, a terrible by product of their reckless cavorting. And, if you think your old masters will take problems with this arrangement, think again. With just a writ, I will own you twice over. I'll addressed to..." Zakriid's brows furrowed as his probe struck deeper, "Jared is it... hrmmm." Zakriid withdrew a pen and parchment, etch a few lines and then closing the letter and sealing it under the Power; guiding the thing back at Banes, finishing with, "As to why we are here, well son.... We're here to make you a god. You belong to us now, please come along quietly, or else I'm afraid you will have to pay us back for this honour." The Dancing Death Rei gestured to the gateway, he was no longer smiling.
	"I watched my world burn under the arms of chaos and madness, who are you to judge me until it happens here? Follow my words and pray to the Light that it never come to that." -Zakriid, addressing a critic, right before pushing him into a skimming gateway. Spirit Elementalism


Jack	Dec 3 2008, 09:46 PM Post #5
Dedicated Posts: 11 Group: Dedicated Member #312 Joined: November 29, 2008	Jack watched as the money he had asked for was handed over. 201 gold Andoran marks. He was kind of surprised that the Asha’man had actually agreed to pay him. But then he figured that an organization suck as the Black Tower could afford to spend the gold with out it hurting them too much. After the gold was handed over the short one armed man started to speak once again. He was property now apparently but Jack disagreed. He was owned by no one, but could be bought for the right price. He concluded that the man was over analyzing the situation. “I apologize for your misconception but I am owned by no one.” but his words went on deaf years. At the mention of Jared, Jack began to believe that these men had someway to read his mind. He was unsure what he felt about the power being used on him, but he was damn sure that he did not like it from these men. He had no way of knowing it, nor stopping it so he let it go at that. If he had anyway of knowing for sure what was going on he would have confronted the men in front of him. Though any confrontation with men that could use the Power would turn out bad for him unless he was able to surprise them and that was impossible in this situation. He resigned himself to captivity for that is what it was. The man who claimed ownership over him, who called himself Warmaster continued to speak. "As to why we are here, well son.... We're here to make you a god. You belong to us now, please come along quietly, or else I'm afraid you will have to pay us back for this honour." The Dancing Death Rei gestured to the gateway, he was no longer smiling. Jack looked over at the gateway he had heard myths about Aes Sedai and Asha’man being able to travel from one spot to another in the blink of an eye. The gateway told Jack the truth, they could jump from place to place. With a mocking bow Jack started forward and stepped through the gateway into a dimly lit room. Looking around at the dust on the floor he could tell that it was unused. Looking back through the gateway he watched as the small man and his patsy followed before it shut he could see flames spring to life on the mattress the fire moving quickly to consume the room. He knew that if they were going to kill him they would have done it there and destroyed his body with the others, at least he hoped that was the case. Taking another look at the room he got the impression that it was situated well underground some sort of vault the hair felt heavy and musky. “Now that we are were ever we are, how do you propose to set me up as a god?” Jack turned and asked the small nameless ‘Warmaster’ “I am to be a puppet if I haven’t missed my guess.” Jack watched the effect or rather the lack of effect of his words on the man. He ignored the other man other than to make sure he was always in site. He knew if anything was to happen it would be the cripple that would start it.
	Jacks History OP Talents: Compulsion(M), Mind Sealing(m), and Healing(m) Non OP Talent: Ta’veren(M)


Zakriid	Dec 5 2008, 11:05 PM Post #6
Rei al'N'dore al'Mordero Posts: 94 Group: Asha'man Member #178 Joined: May 3, 2006	Zakriid watched the child attempt a parody of the bow, and found himself shaking his head dismally. This one had a lot more to learn about mockery if he wanted to get anywhere; clowns were not insulting, they were just embarrassing. You have to make others the fool, else simply being one meant little at affronting egos. The redhead followed the young man, and when he and Banes were both through the gateway, there was an audible snap from Zakriid's fingers, signalling that the weave was to be cut. When Banes had done this, the two arrayed themselves about this deep vault casually, long ago warded and webbed against outside interference or premature egress. You could travel into it, but you couldn't travel out. Curiously, Zakriid noted the lad didn't seem to understand from whom the fire had originated; but then the Rei supposed that was the point of this education. “Now that we are were ever we are, how do you propose to set me up as a god? I am to be a puppet if I haven't missed my guess.” A wide and amused grin slowly bloomed again on the Rei's features, and he slowly sat himself upon a pile of crates, gaining height by about another four feet in the action without much effort. Rather smallish of frame and short an arm, gravity gave very little objection whenever he began jumping. A smooth and laconic voice lamented in turn, "Oh, but you are so very young aren't you? We're all puppets my young creature. You just happen to be lucky enough to have more evident strings. A cosmic joke that your native world's theology openly admits our fates are manipulated by the Wheel; why threads in a Pattern? Very much like the strings of a puppet I think." There was a light and airy chuckle emitted from the other corner by Banes, who had filed the letter away under his jacket and was greedily reaching into a crate for what appeared to be.... a small sliver clasp; two threshes of ornamental wheat which might adorn a lapel or fasten a cape. "No proposal, we start at step one. And as with any good education, the first step is pain. I hope you did not expect to earn your worth so easily as all that we just handed it to you." Zakriid raised his one good hand, now empty, and was just in time to catch the silver ornament as Banes thrust it to him from across the room. Zakriid tossed it a few times, up and then catching it again, before suddenly having his hand blur in motion as he chucked the clasp at the lad in speeds upwards of which eyes had no chance of following. The only chance to stop the projectile was either instincts or intuition, anything else would be pointless. It was a test, and also the Rei just didn't feel like handing the boy the angreal. The tool would make the next phase in the first step come easier too.
	"I watched my world burn under the arms of chaos and madness, who are you to judge me until it happens here? Follow my words and pray to the Light that it never come to that." -Zakriid, addressing a critic, right before pushing him into a skimming gateway. Spirit Elementalism


Jack	Dec 6 2008, 10:30 PM Post #7
Dedicated Posts: 11 Group: Dedicated Member #312 Joined: November 29, 2008	"No proposal, we start at step one. And as with any good education, the first step is pain. I hope you did not expect to earn your worth so easily as all that we just handed it to you." The man said as he was handed something. Jack could not see what that was, he was beginning to think that the situation was not going in any direction that he wanted. Jack watched as he tossed the item up in the air a few times. It was for that reason alone that Jack had enough time to sidestep the vicious throw. Darting his hand out he caught it but the edge of the brooch dug a nasty cut into his hand. Jack didn’t flinch at the pain he sucked it into himself and made it apart of him Jared had taught him that at least. Jack looked down at the brooch and tossed it too his good hand placing it in the pocket of his pants opposite the one that held the coins. “Pain?” He asked and smiled, “I am no stranger to it.” Jack thought of showing the man his scars but decided that the man would only mock him. So he stood his feet shoulder width apart and waited for the pain.
	Jacks History OP Talents: Compulsion(M), Mind Sealing(m), and Healing(m) Non OP Talent: Ta’veren(M)


Zakriid	Dec 18 2008, 11:03 PM Post #8
Rei al'N'dore al'Mordero Posts: 94 Group: Asha'man Member #178 Joined: May 3, 2006	"Pain?" Jack asked and smiled, "I am no stranger to it." There seemed to be a certain indecisive docility to the child; clearly this one must have been broken in the past, no? This behaviour was of a different sort of a survivor, not one who had fought against predators and condition, but one who had been lost to or caught by them. This behaviours said that to stay stern and accept what was to come would elicit less abuse than to resist. In other words, some people, likely whatever glimpses of the nameless cadre were behind this one's passed held responsibility. What use was a broken horse when you needed temper and not discipline? Zakriid briefly considered finishing the job and breaking this one's mind, leaving the child an empty and drooling shell. However, he had waisted too much of his precious time not to see this through, to the end of the first stage at least. His eyes and ears network said this child was the best candidate to build into a false messiah to supplant whatever plans Sarecer had for his foretelling. Dragons and Ta'veren caused far too many problems in the world than they fixed.... but false dragons and imitation Ta'veren; well they could be useful. There were even weaves for Ta'veren duplication scattered about the old libraries in restricted sections. Nominally this was mostly limited to mocking their reputed ill luck, and duplicating that was an ephemeral feat at best. However, if Zakriid were to find some people to use for a Link and then invert a weave of Ta'veren duplication, knotting it over this one without his knowing..... It would seem just like he were the real thing. Only when push came to shove, an inverted weave could be slashed and the Pattern saved should a puppet prove too able at pulling back on its master's strings. Meanwhile, in the present, Zakriid began to call upon the medium of Spirit once again, molding it and cajoling it into the perfect forms. His use of this Element was perfect, just like himself; and his sinister grin reflected that notion. The Rei eyed the man up and down each time he through another Flow into place. And muttered a few words subtly under his breath, going through calculations to moderate the size of the weave he was forming. No good would come of this if he bested his new toy too soon, (some pleasure might come out of it, but not good;) and Zakriid was all about the greater good. In the longevity of these Towers, the ends did most certainly justify the means. And then at last, Zakriid was done, neither too little nor too much Spirit was spent on manifesting the weapon. Where others might waste time on physically creating a sword or spear, the Dancing Death Rei had other ideas in mind. He'd created a Nine-tailed whip of pure Spirit, and at his behest, Banes had done the same, though only four-tails could that one manage. They glowed with an erie green light, little more than phantasms to the physical world. There was a great and echoing tone of derisive laughter, like one would use on a small child who had sicked up after eating mud pies all day in the farm yard. "I'm afraid that while I do not doubt you have managed to endure most kinds of physical pain, this 'pain' is nothing like anything you have experienced before.... well save for perhaps once. I said the initial step in education was pain, and most fittingly, this pain is also 'first' pain. You see, when I scourge you here, with this device; it shall not damage you physically, but rather it shall assail you spiritually. And so each lash shall be felt inside you, just like the first time you were ever struck with great pain. So long as this flogging continues, each strike shall come to you as though you were a scared little whelp all over again. Years of endurance, of fortitude, of calluses and scars are no defense against this weapon. I'm afraid the experience will be very much the same as a first time, when a person is unprepared and does not truly know what pain is; and the best part is, with this device, you can never get used to it." And with that, Zakriid began cackling bitterly as the nine-tails and four began to dance in tune to the heart beats in the room. Thump-strike, thump-strike, thump-strike. Getting faster as adrenaline flowed and the hearts in turn beat faster. No mark nor parting of flesh could they leave, yet for all that, these weapons cut all the deeper than any 'real' thing.
	"I watched my world burn under the arms of chaos and madness, who are you to judge me until it happens here? Follow my words and pray to the Light that it never come to that." -Zakriid, addressing a critic, right before pushing him into a skimming gateway. Spirit Elementalism


Jack	Jan 30 2009, 08:23 PM Post #9
Dedicated Posts: 11 Group: Dedicated Member #312 Joined: November 29, 2008	"I'm afraid that while I do not doubt you have managed to endure most kinds of physical pain, this 'pain' is nothing like anything you have experienced before.... well save for perhaps once. I said the initial step in education was pain, and most fittingly, this pain is also 'first' pain. You see, when I scourge you here, with this device; it shall not damage you physically, but rather it shall assail you spiritually. And so each lash shall be felt inside you, just like the first time you were ever struck with great pain. So long as this flogging continues, each strike shall come to you as though you were a scared little whelp all over again. Years of endurance, of fortitude, of calluses and scars are no defense against this weapon. I'm afraid the experience will be very much the same as a first time, when a person is unprepared and does not truly know what pain is; and the best part is, with this device, you can never get used to it." The man started to cackle madly, Jack had heard laughter driven by madness before. It was not something that you could fake, it was your mind, your crazed souls only escape from the confines of ones mind. Jack didn't like the sounds but he wasn't scared. He did not know what an Asha'man could do but he didn't believe it would be as bad as the man said it would be. But he sealed his mind away inside the void, he had found the void years ago when his 'father' had first started his lessons. He figured that if the pain had not driven him into the void it would have driven him to madness. He wondered for a brief second if the little mans madness was not derived from the Power it self. He shivered at the thought of the madness. It had been hundreds of years sense the dragon walked the earth and cleansed the taint off of the power but the stories of mad men where still used to scare young children. The second the first hit registered in his mind Jack knew the mad had not been boasting when he described how much it would hurt. The first strike brought back the image of Jared striking him with the long whip for the first time. Anger, resentment, embarrassment they all went through his mind. He could remember crying out wondering why he was being hurt. He didn't cry out for this strike nor for minutes after that though to him it felt like hours. His jaw ached from being clenched so tightly, finally he started to yell he didn't beg just yelled. He dropped to his knees the pain driving his head down to the ground. Sweat covered his body he could feel the cool stone beneath his forehead. Another thirty seconds that felt like thirty hours went by and he could feel his sanity start to crumble at the edges. The pain was to great, and there was no respite. He was starting to crack, he could feel it, and at the same time he felt a pulsing lifeline. He knew all he needed to do was get a hold of it and he could save himself. He lifted a hand unconsciously reaching for it, his mind felt for it grasping and slipping. Finally he got it the pulsing lifeline brought him through the pain. It wasn't until that second when he realized that the broach had been pulsing with him. Not knowing what he was doing he lashed out the whips stopped and the room turned into an infernal. When the pain stopped, when it was all quiet the rushing river of life and salvation left him and he collapsed to the ground looking angrily at the two Asha'man that had done this to him. Edited by Jack, Jan 30 2009, 08:24 PM.
	Jacks History OP Talents: Compulsion(M), Mind Sealing(m), and Healing(m) Non OP Talent: Ta’veren(M)


Zakriid	Jan 31 2009, 08:27 PM Post #10
Rei al'N'dore al'Mordero Posts: 94 Group: Asha'man Member #178 Joined: May 3, 2006	A torrent of flames swelled up, exactly the sort of thing he had been striving for. The scourging was not to be resisted, it was used to force those under pain to have no recourse left, no escape, scrabbling through every possible corridor within themselves, either they would unlock the door in their minds that led to the Source, or they would likely go mad and die under the irresistible agony. Watching the vicious spirit lashing right before him, it made the redhead cringe, one test stroke on himself had been enough to give him nightmares for weeks after. It was a weave that could turn on the hand that wielded it oh so easy, for even those versed in use of real whips would need to relearn. Physically, the scourge of spirit had no substance, so you couldn't block it, only direct it, and it might just as well hit you on the pull-back. Still, it did the job, and Zakriid enjoyed his work. When the flames came, the lashes faded and instead almost on pure instinct the air shimmered and grew thicker, clear still but more opaque like syrup than simple nothingness. Barriers of hardened air, self contained, and a third on the boy, for it would not do to have a potential false messiah burn up before earning his place. A tool unused was not thrown away, you dispose of it only after it served its purposed. When the power drawn flames put themselves through extinction, expending oxygen, the barriers were lifted and the flaming redhead stepped forward grinning madly at the pained and raged form. He glanced at his second, and gestured to the boy, 'Take this one to the cells and put him in irons, he could do with some fattening up before we do this again. He'll burn out before he ever learns to channel otherwise, and I don't want that...... yet.' Zakriid turned to sneer down at the creature, then turned, cackling lightly and leaving the child to his minion, with the new gateway winking open the two were fleeting from his mind just as quickly as they had come into it, entertaining him only briefly. There was more paperwork to be done.
	"I watched my world burn under the arms of chaos and madness, who are you to judge me until it happens here? Follow my words and pray to the Light that it never come to that." -Zakriid, addressing a critic, right before pushing him into a skimming gateway. Spirit Elementalism


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