Wheel of Time MUD

With a heavy heart we bring this story to a close. In loving memory of Erulisse Sedai, long may she haunt the Tower Guards that survived her... (she is known for leading the most amount of tower master mobs to their untimely demise!)

The good men and women of this particular Tar Valon neighborhood did what was needed. They wanted to flee; she could tell. Perhaps she should have even let them or encouraged them. Instead she guided them and they listened. They knew, most likely, that she was not an Aes Sedai, but they listened nonetheless. Their expressions were hollow, empty, desperate for something to fill the void rather than the fear that threatened to overwhelm.

She identified a couple of people who knew some basic first aid, and helped guide them in triaging those who had been injured and directing her to the most injured. To those, she administered Healing if they were willing, and otherwise directed the pair with some basic skill to do what they could. She continued until past dark, until the moon cast its light on them all; until she began to feel exhausted.

It was a lot, on all of their parts, but it was not enough.

She walked among the fallen; among the old and among the young. So much potential had been lost this day. She imagined what could have been for each of them, she imagined their successes and their failures, their joy and their despair. She imagined their absence in the world.

She bent over each, touched their foreheads, and then closed their eyes.

A dark-haired man, middle-aged, a dockworker. He was married and had three children.

An older man, hands and face leathered. He had no family, just a neighbor who looked after him.

A short man, balding. He lived with his brother and his family.

A woman with green eyes and blonde hair, in her thirties. Her husband had gone north and would not return for a month. Who would care for their children?

A young man, no older than her, dark hair cut short. He had dreamed of marrying his childhood sweetheart and had just asked her father’s permission.

A young woman, red of hair, in her twenties. She had fled a terrible situation to the south, and just arrived. No one here knew her or would weep for her.

A young girl, hair braided, not more than seven. Her mother held her in her arms, inconsolable.

She wept for each of them and softly sang:

[i]Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.[/i]

The square was wreathed in the smoke of a dozen fires. The illumination from the blazes was diffused, flickering red and orange on the white walls of the Tower as though the building itself was ablaze. The eastern gate was a gaping maw, blasted to splinters that now clung to the twisted metalwork like misaligned teeth. A company of the Tower Guard had tried to make a stand here. Their bodies were blackened and burned, or burst like gorey red pustules in a semicircle around the gate. Here and there pieces of armor glowed with red orange heat as they cooled. The stink was incredible, a mixture of burned blood, cooked meat and the fecal stench of burst entrails and voided bowels. It stung Erulisse’s eyes and made her gore rise. The sight conjured phantom images of the Other World, oddly overlaid with the flapping of Dragon Banners that didn’t exist anywhere beyond her mind. It was a nightmare rendered in smoke and moonlight.

The Brown Sister crossed the square as quickly as she dared, a dark hooded cloak taken from a corpse wrapped around her body. The cobblestones were tacky with partially burnt blood. As she passed the charred corpses she nearly lost her footing as she tread on a handful of disarticulated fingers that crunched sickeningly beneath her boots. The sounds of battle were all around, and she gripped the hilt of a looted shortsword beneath her cloak, fingers tightening and relaxing in rhythm with her heart. She passed through the gate without challenge, feeling a degree of confidence building in long familiar surroundings.


An agonized scream came from the central hall and a figure burst from a doorway ahead. They were wreathed from head to toe in flame so bright that even sex was impossible to tell. The figure ran blindly past as Erulisse pressed herself into an alcove, bright white teeth visible as heat shriveled the fatty tissues of lips twisted into a now soundless scream.

“We will see the Karaethon Cycle fulfilled!” a man in a tattered black and gold shrieked as he emerged behind the burning figure, hands raised exultantly.


“The untrained Tower shall be broken and bend….” he trailed off in a slur as the threads of spirit put him to sleep. His charge was arrested drunkenly and he stumbled to the floor, breaking his fall with a hand before sprawling against the wall in unnaturally enforced slumber.

“I doubt,” Erulisse said grimly as she crossed to his somnolent form, “that you can even spell Karaethon.” With practiced ease she thrust the point of her looted sword through his throat. Wakefulness returned for the few seconds it took his life blood to pour out of the dreadful wound, hands coming feebly to the blade only to fall away without quite touching it as the fevered light drained from his eyes. Erulisse wiped the blood from the sword point on his cloak by reflex.

She was not here for this. Others would win this fight if it was to be won.

Rather than climbing higher into the Tower she slipped downwards, following familiar routes into the vaults beneath the common floors. She had not planned for this, but the Pattern was giving her a chance that she could never have engineered on her own. She had no intention of wasting it.

Turning from the now whimpering Male Channeler with a sigh of dismay, Maddy focused back on the wounded. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the newer Valon Guards carrying a small bundle. She watched as he gingerly laid it under the tree, whilst frantically searching the yard, hoping to catch someone's eye. Locking on his gaze, Maddy moved over to him, feeling his anguish as she gently asked him, “Are you alright?” She put a kind hand on his shoulder before crouching down to inspect the body he had so carefully placed. He looked at Maddy in desperation pleading, “Light save us. Please help this small one” Saying that, he stood and limped back out towards the City, the dark evening enveloping him. Maddy sighed with a sense of sorrow, for him, for herself, for everyone.


Gritting her teeth, she braced to the reality that this was a hurt child. Placing a torch beside her she opened the blankets, revealing a very frail elderly woman. Feeling a sense of relief, but also determination to help, Maddy’s face tightened in resolve as she firmly placed her hand on the woman’s chest feeling a steady heartbeat. The old one’s face was pale, her breathing shallow, with no apparent wounds. Trying to retrace the steps for diagnosing and healing, she reached for her notepad only to find her bag no longer hanging at her side. Her brilliant green eyes brightened in eagerness as her plan formed. With a sense of resolve, she thought “I will try delving”, something she had only seen performed once in a long ago class.


Furrowing her delicate brows, she struggled to remember the correct weaves. First things first she thought as she allowed the one source to fill her with its familiar warmth and completeness. Her eyes closed in concentration as she began to channel what she thought were the required elements. Blocking out the noises in the courtyard, her full attention directed to weaving the flows …..,pushing, pushing only to sink in exhaustion as she felt them falter and disappear Releasing saidar with a sense of defeat, she knew the woman's malady was beyond her skill, Giving the patients forehead a gentle touch, Maddy moved on, motioning for one of the helpers to take over,


Taking a moment to reassess the turmoil in the courtyard she realized the fight had moved. The echoes of the raging battle still seethed, but sounded distant and intermittent. Laras was sitting on the bench using her apron to wipe the beads of sweat off her face. The sounds in the courtyard had depleted to a low murmur of moans, coughing and quiet soothing voices. She felt relief as she watched the Aes Sedai from the Yellow Ajah moving around the yard with their light balls and bandages, making their magic, healing what she could not. Sneaking away, she skirted out to the hall, picking her way through the rubble, glass and bodies, some alive and some still.

Fear and anticipation surged through her as she crept through the dark corridor to the kitchen. Peeking around the door she found herself face to face with a wild haired, filthy woman. Startled they both reached for the one source. Maddy knew she was too late as she felt her enemies weave hit her like a slap in the face. Blinded, she instinctively wove fire and earth feeling the warm green healing restore her sight. Terror and panic driving her, she stabbed wildly with her dagger. She felt her thrust hit bone with a loud crunch and winced at the woman's painful grunt. Hastily she drew the weaves together forming a Flame Strike that hit the Dragonsworn square in the face making her scream in pain as her smoking body hit the floor. Maddy snatched the rough woolen cloak from the burnt corpse, swiftly wrapping it tightly around her own shivering frame. Still in shock, but running on adrenaline, she lifted the hood over her dark hair, and proceeded nervously towards the doors and the City beyond.

Coshe squeezed through the gate, moving forwards as quickly as she could, her right side still bruised and sore.

“I probably have a broken rib or two,” she thought, as she tried to take a deeper breath and was only met with pain. When she looked up through her grimace, the moonlight helped her to see across the courtyard and what she saw astounded and shocked her. People lay scattered across the grass and pathways. She could see the white dresses of novices covering some, accepted dresses on others. Between them were men and women, some dragonsworn, some just innocents caught by those zealots. “This was a safe place away from the evils of the world, murder and death. It is a beacon of safety, a bastion for what is right and these monsters would try and destroy that,” she growled. How could they do this to people trying to learn how to wield the power to help others, and not harm themselves, some of these novices were barely off of their mothers apron strings and yet now they lay here their lives changed forever or in the worst cases snuffed out. As the realisation of what had happened struck her, she looked towards the tower itself and could see saidar being weaved, could feel it striking out. Coshe embraced saidar again.

“I need to see what I can do to prevent this from continuing, I need to help these people. I have to stay calm and not let anger control my actions,” she repeated to herself as she moved carefully forward. Her sparring practices with Sarinda Sedai came rushing back to her as she slowly moved through the grass, watching every tree and every bush as she moved forward.

“An enemy who desires to hurt you or those you care about could be anywhere, do not take stupid risks,” she repeated in her own head. “I should head to the warders practice yard, Coulin is a blademaster, a warder that could strike fear into any enemy’s heart. If there is anyone making a stand it would be there.”

As Coshe moved closer to the practice yard, she could hear the sounds of steel clanging against steel, and the feeling of saidar being lashed out in random directions. As she reached the corner leading to the yard she, took a deep breath before Coshe turned the corner.

As she turned, she saw the unmistakable Coulin moving deftly between targets, ducking weaving and swinging his sword. It was almost like watching a cat play with mice as he brought down anyone raising a sword against him. Mixed in between were faces she recognized, warders fighting off the crowd of Dragonsworn. In the middle of the nearby circle, Coshe could make out an accepted, blood trickling down from her forehead, weaving out streaks of fire at anyone who got through. The novices seemed to be spent, holding their staves trying to fend off any remaining.

Coshe reached out and began to pull in weaves of earth, fire and air, aiming for the ground on the outskirts of the circle. She caused the ground to erupt at the feet of the dragonsworn, launching stone, dirt and people in different directions. She pulled weaves together, launching a fireball at two men who turned to face her. Screams came from where they stood, but died down as the former men collapsed.

The circle opened, providing a way to escape and the warders swiftly moved in to widen that gap allowing the accepted and novices a path to safety. They began to run, and Coshe watched carefully as they ran through the gap when she felt a tingle of saidar coming from her left. THWACK, the force of air hit her, knocking the wind out of her and throwing her to the right, sliding across the dirt.

“Maybe a Novice made a mistake, maybe they couldn’t control it while trying to help,” Coshe thought. She looked up and what she saw shocked her. A woman dressed in armor moved towards her weaving. A wilder? With the dragonsworn? Why? Why would she be here hurting these innocents? She saw the weaves increasing, what could she be preparing to push out? “I need to be prepared, if only I knew how to slice a weave. I could stop her from what she is doing in her tracks.” Earth, she recognized, and Spirit began to interweave…. Wait it couldn’t be? The wilder moved closer, her eyes focused with hatred on Coshe. “If she adds fire to that weave….” Coshe’s mouth fell wide open, “it’s incinerate.” Coshe began to weave fire as quickly as she could. “I need to throw her off and make her miss!” It was a long shot but she had to try. Coshe let the flames come from her fingertips at the wilder as her eyes seemed to be blinded by an intense flash of light.

Minutes passed as Chloro cradled Gikarta in her arms, her face still a mask of serene calm, but silent tears slowly rolling down each cheek. The cold wind of a damp night in Tar Valon pulled her from her agonized trance. The city was still under attack, and the battle weaves still raged on, more intensely than they had before. The Moon was high in the sky as fire, and flashes of air pulsed all around her in each direction, woman channeling, some to defend others to attack. Men waving their hands as fire balls and flame wheels appeared.

With a heavy heart Chloro bent her head down kissing the girl’s forehead before pulling her eyes closed with fair skinned fingers and gently lowering the Accepted’s body to the paving stone. A delicate hand removed the great serpent ring from the girl. Chloro nestled the ring with care in her pouch as she felt two women who could channel approach. Standing gracefully, the time to grieve would be later she held her grip on saidar pulling more in, and then more still till she knew she could drink no more. Flows of air, water and spirit swirled around her in an illuminated mass.

Turning she faced the women to see a man in his sixties with them, his face scarred by what she could only assume was a weave of fire gone wrong. Sensing her strength and seeing the amount of Saidar seething around her one of the women shrieked and fled, the other dropped to their knees begging for forgiveness and not to be killed. The man looked on with a vile grin.

“You might scare the wenches, but I’ll make sure you remember your place witch.” He voiced.

Chloro, had talked enough, she knew the oaths, she could not strike first, not if he was not a threat to her. She stood there staring him down, daring him to do what he thought would work. With a stroke of luck, she might just avenge Gikarta and rid the world of one madman at the same time.

Seconds pasted, and the man growled before moving his hands, a fire ball bursting into existence between them the size of a large watermelon. Raising his right arm as if to throw, he launched the fire ball at Chloro’s stomach.

“Counter that you…..” The madman’s eyes widened as he watched the ball.

Chloro raised her hands, right hand palm down at bosom eight, left hand pam up at navel height as flows of air swirled creating a vacuum. Without show of effort the fire ball suspended three inches away from Chloro and flicked as weaves of air slowly, so the man could see it snuffed out every last flame. Flows of spirit and air swirled in front of her in a mass before she pushed her hands forward launching the man into the wall of a near by house. Hard enough to knock him out but not enough to kill, her heart grieved but she had taken oaths, oaths that she would obey until the mother’s last embrace.

Blue silks rustled in the distance as she caught Rafela Cindal and her muscular bronzed beefcake of a warder. The blue stopped in her tracks looking at the mass swirling around Chloro and embraced pulling near her strength as well. The young Aes Sedai was not as strong as Chloro, or Mother, but she could handle more of the one power than any senior sitter. Rafela nodded and turned towards the north as Chloro did the same.

Moonlight bathed the three moved, weaves flashing, enemy channelers being incapacitated or disappearing in flashes of light as Aes Sedai about the city began to repel and push out the weaker part of the invading force. The ground still rumbled, the fires still burned, and channelers on both sides fought on as the night continued in chaos.

Her ears were ringing, head spinning, precluding a proper sense of up and down. Confusion reigned until she recovered her bearings. She shifted, palms pressing flat to the ground, helping provide stability. Her feet slipped and slid in the slushy mess caused first by a trample of people and second by the earthen burst, but she got to her feet at last. The man, yes, she thought she’d seen a man, thought for a moment he was channeling. In retrospect that must have been her own fearful thoughts bubbling up. A man who could channel would not willingly come to the White Tower and then actually -channel-. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she’d heard of Dougan doing exactly that. Maybe a man who was too far gone might. Her lips turned downward in a frown as she shook everything off and took assessment of the area.

[i]And tore the world asunder.[/i]

Rubble and wreckage were strewn everywhere. The street was torn apart, multiple buildings were severely damaged. She could see over a dozen people all injured to varying extents. Some were getting to their feet, some could only crawl, and some were not moving at all. She made her way through some debris. Among those not moving was a boy; no, that was not fair, he was a young man. There was blood running down the side of his face. She found herself kneeling by his side, although she didn’t remember the actual act of kneeling. She was still dazed, probably concussed. She swallowed heavily, centered herself and pushed through as she allowed a calm to fall over her. She set a hand gently on his shoulder and squeezed as she spoke to him, tone level and reassuring, “Are you awake? Can you speak?”

He jerked at her touch, eyes opening and blinking. That was a good sign.

She opened herself and embraced the Source, feeling the warmth of the One Power flow through and fill her. “I’m an Accepted, I can heal you. Will you allow it?” she asked.

His dark eyes widened at that and he began to push himself away, body shuffling through the muddy slush. His effort was weak, but it was a discernible choice. “Get away from me, don’t touch me,” the words bubbled out from his mouth. There was more he wished to say, but there was some measured fear mixed in with his fervor. He kept those additional thoughts to himself.

Her brow furrowed, she hadn’t expected that. Her expression shifted to concern as she watched the injured man crawl away from her. She let go of his shoulder and didn’t try to stop him. “Get help,” she implored him, before looking elsewhere.

She heard the cracking sound, not of thunder, but of stone. A burst of air flowed out from her as some damaged stone fell from above towards a nearby elderly woman lying battered near to a shop front. The stone was forcefully thrust aside. She followed through, quickly making her way through the street and dropping again to her knees. “Ma’am,” she prompted gently. After a moment’s hesitation she also reached out her hand, placing it on the woman’s own upper arm before prompting again, “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

She didn’t hear the follow up crack from above as more stone broke loose and tumbled, but she did hear the harsh clang of stone on metal from directly above her head. She looked up into the face of one of the warders’ students. She didn’t know his name, but she had seen him in the yard before. His eyes were bright and his jaw was rimmed by a well-trimmed beard. She’d never thought terribly much about it before, about men generally, but perhaps Elmitsu was on to something about a bearded man. Just as quickly, she thrust that thought aside. She was no school girl and now was not the time for whatever the blood and ashes that nonsense was. She smiled her gratitude to the young man and breathed out, “Thank you,” and then, “Can you help me get her away from the building?”

The two of them gently dragged her away. He didn’t really need her assistance, but was gracious enough to allow it nonetheless. More safely now, away from any buildings, Aleera gently prodded the woman, who stirred and then acquiesced to some healing. She rose up and helped the elderly woman also get to her feet. She then turned, wanting to again thank the young man, but he was already gone.

The ground shook then, violently. Someone, somewhere, was channeling and causing an earthquake. Her hands went out and away from her sides as she struggled to maintain her balance. More rubble fell from all around. She cried out, urging everyone who could to move away from the buildings. When the earth took a pause from its violence, she spoke more forcefully, directing a few able sets of hands to help drag those less able, or unable, to move away from the buildings and began to triage as best she could under less than ideal circumstances. Again, the earth shook and groaned with violent temper.

Light protect us all.

All around her, she saw destruction; of people, of property, and of spirit. In this moment she [i]felt[/i] an understanding of the mission of the Grays. Intellectually she had understood the mission before and even expressed it, but she [i]felt[/i] it now as she looked about. There would be no winner today, no victor. There would be only loss. Profound loss. This is what they tried to prevent every day.

Cold. The surface infront of her was hard. Her hands, what she thought were her hands for they gave no report of sensation, batted against the hard thing. Erulisse felt irritation at whatever the thing was. She was trying to move her hands and the thing was stopping her. She opened her mouth to command it to get out of her way and something cold rushed into her mouth and down her throat. She choked, tried to scream, but it was too late… strong hands seized her and hauled her upwards out of the water. She did scream now, the air cut into her flesh the way the water hadn’t and it jolted her out of the delirium. Someone set her down on stone. South Harbor? Shivers wracked her body and her teeth chattered. The cold seemed to cling to her like a fog, making it hard to move, hard to think. Someone was talking to her but the words were an irritating buzz on the edge of her consciousness. Burning liquid poured into her mouth and she screamed, sneezed and vomited all at once. Bandy gyezerd out of her mouth and nose, spraying a shocked looking sailor in an old tarpaulin coat. He dropped the leather flask of brandy to the stone in fright.

“Aes Sedai are you…”

The Dragonsworn. Erulisse sat bolt upright, ignoring the odd phantom flickers of pain. The shivering of her body stilled as she employed the old Aes Sedai trick for ignoring physical discomfort. Her hands throbbed, she looked down at bruised fingers and broken nails. She had been pounding her hands against the stone quay and would have drowned if the sailors hadn’t seen her. They were concealed by low crates and bails of goods that had been piled between the quay and the water. Saidar crackled in the air to the north around the great spire of the White Tower. Sadin she could not see, but the taste of brandy in her mouth seemed to curdle with something dark and malevolent.

She had told them. Warned them. Over and over. At every turn she had been ignored and now they were reaping the whirlwind. Had there been Sisters involved as with the portal world? Probably the Yellows in this world rather than the Blues. For a long moment she considered simply leaving, weaving a gateway and vanishing into the wilds of the South. She had no love for Tar Valon. No love for the city where she had been twice imprisoned. Little enough for the sisters who had punished her for doing what was right because they themselves were cowards who would rather gnatter in the Hall than act. She could leave now and let the so-called Amyrlin seat to whatever fate they could find.


“Aes Sedai what should we do?” the fishermen were asking. Erulisse pushed herself to her feet, icy water streaming from her body.


“Hide out till dark and then flee the city,” she instructed. Judging by the smell of burning meat on the air, their lives might depend on it.


Erulisse embraced Saidar. The pain got better and worse at once and she dried herself with a flicker of fire. It was a risk, the Dragonsworn had female channelers amongst them, even though the greatest of them were little better than Wilders, but the Power was raging in the air.


“What are you going to do Aes Sedai?” one of the fishermen asked, nerves rather than genuine curiosity.


“What I have to,” Erulisse replied and started walking towards the smoke that wreathed the base of the White Tower.

The clash of swords and the crackle of saidar echoed through the corridors. Maddy stealthfully moved to the entrance hall, her pace quickened by her fear, her feet moving forward with bravery. The air hummed with energy and the clash of steel. The roar of men and women screaming in pain and anger drowned out all other sounds. With a racing heart she surveyed the destruction. Maddy watched as Aes Sedai, Warders and Accepted were frantically engaged in a desperate defense of the Tower's inner chambers. The Aes Sedai’s colorful shawls billowed in the heated air as they channeled the One Power. The Warders cloaks shifting, making it hard to determine which way they were moving. The Accepted banded dresses all covered in blood and grime.

Slipping unnoticed to the Warders Practice yard, her attention was drawn to a secluded corner of the courtyard under her favorite reading tree. She observed Laras, her girth surprisingly nimble as she moved from person to person assessing the injured and calling out orders to everyone in her earshot, using her most commanding voice. Her many chins wobbled as she used her apron to distribute bandages and ointments. Maddy made her way to the triage area and began moving deftly from body to body checking for life, assessing wounds, drawing weaves of earth water and spirit to heal those who needed, offering comfort to those beyond help.

Her attention was drawn to the entranceway where she heard loud voices, screams and watched as people stepped over each other to get away from something that was terrifying them. A man was there, moving his hands as if he was weaving. Fear and panic set in as she realized he really WAS weaving. Before she could react a blunt force of air hit Maddy directly in her chest knocking the wind out of her. Without thinking, before catching her breath, she embraced saidar rapidly channeling earth, fire and spirit, blinding him. The Dragonsworn stumbled and reached for a fast hold. Simultaneously a passing Warder entered the yard wildly swinging his double bladed axe. With one mighty blow, he deftly chopped the weaving man’s arm off at the shoulder. Blood and gore splattered throughout the yard, leaving clumps and stickiness over all as the blinded man crumpled in agony.

As Coshe made it closer to the sunrise gate, she saw the crowds beginning to thin.

“That can be only one thing,” she thought as she raced closer, “there must’ve been a fight near here.” Skirting the corner gave her the confirmation she needed. Bodies scattered along the ground, some the Tower guard, some wearing mismatched armor, some simply people caught in the wrong place or trying to make it to safety. To the north, a fire raged in what used to be a home. Coshe sped towards the gate as a Tower Guardsman looked to her, pike in hand. He seemed near exhausted, and his face looked like he had seen things he would sooner forget. She let her cloak drop to reveal her white and banded dress and he lowered his pike. Coshe slid to a stop near the gates.

“Bannerman I need to get into the tower to help who I can” Coshe exclaimed, nearly out of breath.

“I understand, but we cannot open the gates while Tar Valon is under attack” was the quick response. Coshe nodded to herself. It made sense, you need to protect the many to prevent those from entering that would do harm to the tower. Coshe’s thoughts were stopped suddenly by the Bannerman yelling “Look out, more of them!” Coshe turned to face the attackers, the looters, the zealots. At this point she didn’t care what they were called, all she knew was they intended to do harm to her, and her family, the family she made in the tower.

“I know I need to protect them. I may not be the strongest, but I can fight to help those that are close to me,” Coshe thought to herself, and she felt the warm embrace of saidar rushing through her body again. A handful of Dragonsworn charged at the guardsmen that remained at the gate, the usual grouping of 10 men protecting the sunrise gate had been cut short to 4. She didn’t have to think about why, all she had to do was look around to understand where they were. Reaching deep into her mind, she began to move almost as if in a dance, weaving water and air to form spikes of ice that she launched towards the attackers. A man fell… she had never had to defend herself from a man before. She had fought a trolloc while studying a waygate once. As she studied the leaves and the stone, the waygate winked to life and out popped a beast ready to tear her to pieces. That made sense, but a man, even a crazed zealot, it seemed more real, more impactful and pulled at her soul knowing what she had to do. But she would because she needed to protect those that could not protect themselves.

She didn’t have too long to think as she backed away weaving again, this time focusing on just fire to launch streaks of flames at a man running at her with an axe. He screamed as he dropped his axe, the burns running over his hands. A guardsman quickly drove his pike into the man’s shoulder forcing him down. Coshe turned just in time to see a shield hit her across her body, knocking her to the ground, oxygen taken from her like a thief.

“Get up or you’re dead! Get up or you’re dead!” She screamed in her own mind. She began to rise as she heard a roar from the Bannerman bringing the shaft of the pike across the man’s head, dropping him to the ground. He reached down to help her up and she looked behind him to see what had happened to the rest of the men, attackers and defenders. The answer was clear in a quick glance, half a dozen dragonsworn lay in various states around the gate, and with them the remaining guardsmen. Coshe took the bannerman’s hand, as he helped her rise to her feet.

“Thank you,” she coughed out. As she stood up, the bannerman looked around.

“I’ll need help…. “ he stated in a desperate tone. “I’ll open the gate, but I need you to bring back more help to defend this position, I cannot do it alone” Coshe nodded quickly, not passing up a chance to help those that are in need and went to the gate as the bannerman unlocked it.

“I’ll be back, with help, I promise.” Coshe knew what those words meant, she may have yet to take the oaths on the rod, but she knew to always tell the truth, and a promise like this would not be broken by her.