[Origin Story] But it was something... [ PART 2 POSTED 25/1/22 ] ---&RPaward

...for in character discussions, contributions and Wheel of Time themed stories.
Vannor
Posts: 71
Joined: Tue Jul 27, 2021 10:05 pm

[Origin Story] But it was something... [ PART 2 POSTED 25/1/22 ] ---&RPaward

Post by Vannor » Sun Jan 23, 2022 8:52 pm

Ely edit 22 Feb 2022:

1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.

Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: o

Total: 2 qps

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PART ONE

But it was something…?

It was a perfect summer’s day in Emond’s Field. Early in the season, the scents and sounds filling the air hinted at the long, hot days ahead. The otherwise peaceful ambience broken only by the foreign sound of a newborn baby’s cries.

The cries sounded from a well-appointed cottage found just off the main thoroughfare of the Old Road, just one such residence surrounded by matching homes in a small neighbourhood that most Red Eagles called home.

This particular cottage was owned by Lady Caela al’Cair, Old Blood of Manetheren and defender of the Two Rivers. Lady al’Cair’s reputation was known by all in the southwest, from the oldest barfly at the Winespring down to each child learning to string their first bow. Long years of campaigning against the Seanchan and driving back Shadowspawn whenever they deigned to show themselves in the Two Rivers and abroad, earned Caela a healthy reputation in her homelands.

The pregnancy had come as no small surprise to Caela, and unplanned to say the least. Her priorities revolved around fighting or drinking or both at the same time. Romance, settling down and raising a family simply wasn’t part of the plan. There was a man from Murandy during the last campaign against the Queen’s Guard who had held Caela’s interest for a longer period than usual, and so she supposed he was the father.

Now stuck with a newborn, a serious impediment to her usual pastimes, Caela promptly consulted with the Women’s Circle, named the child, and placed the infant boy into their care. The Women’s Circle appointed Corin Ayellin as wetnurse, and so the child’s start to life began, a father he’d never know, and a mother who was passingly if not completely, disinterested.

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The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose above the great Misty Mountains, spinning through their peaks and valleys as it turned to spread out over the Two Rivers. Twisting and turning across fields, forests and farmlands, the winds picked up the flight of an arrow, fired from the bow of a young teenager, driving the projectile at its target before moving on. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.



THUNK!

A toothy smile spread across Vannor al’Cair’s face as he squinted against the afternoon sun. The arrow, fired from the long Two Rivers bow he now held in his hands, still quivering in the centre of the practice target he’d set up earlier that morning.

Spinning about to flourish at his captive audience; comprised of half of dozen chickens pecking aimlessly in the dirt, his faithful farmdog Aldazar which happened to double as his best friend, and Mistress Ayellin who had her back to him hanging out the day’s washing.

The boy watched his audience for a moment, waiting until he noticed one of the chickens pause in their pecking to eye him right back. Nodding at the chicken’s acknowledgement, he set the bow down and slumped down beside Aldazar. Surveying his practice battlefield, he absently began to count the dozens of arrows that littered the ground around the target as he scratched the sleepy dog’s ears.

“I had better see all of those picked up and neatly packed before you come in to wash up, Vannor” chided Mistress Ayellin, who had apparently finished hanging out the laundry. “Your mother is due home tonight, and I’m sure you want to show her that you’re now a responsible young adult worthy of joining the Night’s Watch” she added, directing a knowing look at him. Vannor nodded absently and turned back to the practice target, admiring the one arrow affixed proudly in its centre.

Mistress Ayellin, as far as Vannor was concerned, was just as good or better than any mother he could hope for. With his real mother constantly away fighting for the Red Eagles and returning for a week or few days at a time, his wetnurse was all he’d ever really known, but she’d always been good to him and he supposed there was nothing to really complain about. Mistress Ayellin had taught him to read and write and do his numbers, and almost never raised her voice at him or treated him badly.

One of Mistress Ayellin’s best qualities, in Vannor’s opinion, was that she always seemed to know a little bit about everything and was never short of a story. Countless nights were filled with tales of the far away events of great warriors in the Blight fighting hordes of Shadowspawn single handed, or of Legends of Old, tales of the One Power and those that wielded them or great armies that carved out the lands and territories that lined the maps of today.

Some of the stories Mistress Ayellin told of course, were of the Red Eagles and a few even featured his mother. Although he bore no resentment to his mother, the tales told of her deeds just didn’t really match the person he knew and saw, and consequently, those stories were his least favourite.

That wasn’t to say they were all bad, he often asked Mistress Ayellin to recount great battles featuring his idols, the Red Eagles Dougras Aquila or Tarn Nachiman. Stories about the infamous Civil Watch lords Rodger, Takd and Shinobi. It had of course occurred to Vannor in the kind of logic that only teenagers can bend, that if he were to fashion himself into a great warrior like his idols, it may win him the attention of his mother, Caela.

For months now, Vannor had been practicing with the bow, sword and staff in preparation to apply for the Night’s Watch of Manetheren. The Night’s Watch were a local defence militia charged with taking care of the Two Rivers when the main force, the Red Eagles, were abroad. It was common knowledge that the Red Eagles recruited their members from the Night Watch, and so every boy and girl that dreamed of standing amongst their number tried their hand at gaining entry to the Night’s Watch.

As Vannor gathered the last of the arrows littering the farmyard and returning them to his quiver, his thoughts were ended by the sound of an approaching horse. By the familiar way that the various custom straps, attachments and trinkets that adorned Caela al’Cair’s warhorse jingled as it moved, he knew his mother was home.

His chest swelling with anticipation, a nervous energy flooded through him. Tonight he would seek approval from his mother to apply for the Night’s Watch. It was a far cry from the Red Eagles, but it was something.
Last edited by Vannor on Mon Jan 24, 2022 8:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Xephiroth
Posts: 8
Joined: Wed Jun 15, 2016 8:43 am

Re: [Origin Story] But it was something...

Post by Xephiroth » Mon Jan 24, 2022 5:42 am

Nice stuff. Looking forward to part 2.

Kordin
Posts: 712
Joined: Wed Feb 18, 2015 5:17 pm

Re: [Origin Story] But it was something...

Post by Kordin » Mon Jan 24, 2022 6:53 am

Xephiroth wrote:
Mon Jan 24, 2022 5:42 am
Nice stuff. Looking forward to part 2.
Same. :)

Vannor
Posts: 71
Joined: Tue Jul 27, 2021 10:05 pm

Re: [Origin Story] But it was something...

Post by Vannor » Mon Jan 24, 2022 8:40 pm

Ely edit 19 February 2022:

1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.

Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: x

Total: 4 qps

*****************************************

PART TWO


“Well if it isn’t my favourite scrawny offspring!” Caela exclaimed, pulling her horse to reign in beside Vannor and ruffle his hair. The warhorse Caela rode looked more a packhorse, with various mugs and tankards attached clanging together and against two full sized kegs hanging from either side of the saddle. Examining the kegs, Vannor was glad at least for the horse’s sake they looked mostly empty.

The Red Eagle slid from her saddle to stand beside Vannor, planting her hands on her hips as she eyed him up and down. “Nope, you still look about the same. How long does it take for kids to grow up these days?!” Caela laughed, slipping an arm around Vannor’s shoulders as she walked the horse to its stable.

“Glad you made it back from Almoth in one piece” Vannor said as he followed, and he meant it, having come to terms with his mother’s utter lack of maternal tendencies. Caela snorted a laugh as she unlatched the saddle, pushing it from the horses back to send it to the floor of the stable with a loud crash. “Seanchan raids are at an all time low, was a bare handful of raids in the last few months, and none at all in the last few weeks” Caela eventually said, leaning against the horse to pat its nose. “Troubling, since it feels like they’re planning something a little bigger. I haven’t seen Tzao or Nargus take the field in weeks..” she continued, shrugging. Straightening, Caela again threw an arm around Vannor and began guiding him back out of the stable “Come on, let’s see what the good Mistress has cooked up for my big homecoming” she said.

Vannor and Caela entered the cottage to the delicious scent of a giant pot of beef stew bubbling over the fire and baked rolls fresh from the oven. Seating herself at the table and slamming her fists against the wood, Caela loudly declared to the room “Amazing! As always, Mistress Ayellin. Remind me to tell the Women’s Circle to give you another raise, again.” Mistress Ayellin smiled at Caela, before grinning at Vannor who was now seated by the fire. Vannor grinned back at Mistress Ayellin, knowing that exact comment had been made almost every time Caela came home, and almost every time never happened.

Their meal passed in much the way they always did when his mother returned. Caela was always interested in the goings on of the townsfolk, who had married who, who had left, who had arrived, that sort of thing. Hours passed and Mistress Ayellin, having divulged all of Emond’s Field secrets, retired to her bedroom, leaving the mother and son alone at the dining table. Vannor planned his moment to make his proposal, having tried to time it with Caela’s fourth or fifth mug of ale, it was hard to keep track.

Clearing his throat, Vannor picked at the leftovers of his bread roll while he stared down at the table. “I’m applying for the Night’s Watch tomorrow” he said quietly, during the latest lull of conversation. “Everyone expects me to grow up and be a famous Red Eagle like you, and I do too. I’ve been practicing every day, and today I finally hit the bullseye during my archery. I’m ready” he stated, emphasising the last. Long moments passed, and Vannor looked up to see Caela frowning at him over her mug of ale.

Setting her mug down, Caela studied the boy for what felt like a painfully long time. Finally, she grunted in his general direction and stood from the table, pushing her chair back. “Did you now..” she mused, moving across the room. She stopped by the door to take her long red woollen cloak off its hook, the same cloak worn by all Red Eagles. Caela opened the door, “Well, let’s go take a look” she said, waiting for Vannor to follow.

Caela whistled appreciatively as she stood out in the night air, examining the lone remaining arrow affixed to the target’s bullseye. Vannor stood staring at it with her, suppressing the small twinge of pride he felt whenever he looked at it. “I’m not sure that one bullseye makes the Eagle” she laughed, turning to kneel beside him. Placing both hands on his shoulders, her face took a serious tone “You be whatever you want to be. I was the first ever woman to join the Red Eagles, so don’t listen to whatever the others say” she said quietly. Caela was silent a moment, and then tapped Vannor’s chest and the side of his head with her hand. “You might not hear it yet, but somewhere in each of those places are two voices. One will tell you what you want, and the other will tell you what you need. Listen to those and do whatever is they tell you” she finished.

Vannor was left speechless. Over the years, and for as long as he could remember, his mother had always treated him like any of the other boys running around the village. No special treatment, no parental guidance, and never a conversation as serious as this. Caela had always left that kind of what she called ‘nonsense’ to Mistress Ayellin.

Caela grinned at her son, breaking the moment “Who knows, maybe you want to be a Wisdom. There’s never been a male Wisdom! You could be the first!” she exclaimed as she stood, gazing into the forest with a faraway look. “I could see it now.. Vannor al’Cair, Wisdom of Emond’s Field and scrawniest man to ever live” she prophesised. Tilting her head down towards him and giggling a little, Caela whispered “You know your uncle Dougras tried to join the Wisdoms once. We have that particular letter framed in the Manor.”

Vannor looked back at his mother in disbelief and laughed despite himself, shaking his head. While Dougras wasn’t his real uncle, obviously, he certainly acted like one, and his habit of being ridiculous made him a town favourite, especially among the younger folk. Caela quirked her head at him “Not the Wisdom’s then? Heart set on the Night’s Watch?” she asked, and Vannor nodded in reply. Caela laughed herself then and gave Vannor a wicked smile “Well i’ll have to make sure old Celeborn knows you’re coming. Can’t let it be said you got an easy ride for being the kid of a Red Eagle or anything” she threatened and began marching back to the house. “Into bed then!” she announced, not looking back to see if Vannor followed, “Big day tomorrow!” Caela called back as she stomped through the door.

Vannor sighed, watching his mother disappear into the cottage. Looking back at his one solo arrow, alone in the night, it didn’t look so impressive anymore. Glancing back at the house, and the warm light of the fire glimmering from the windows, Vannor slowly walked over to where he’d set down his bow and quiver. Restringing his bow by the light of the moonlight and drawing an arrow from his quiver, he turned to face the target.

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