| “And men called out to the Creator, saying, O Light of the Heavens, Light of the World, let the Promised One be born of the mountain, according to the Prophecies, as he was in Ages past and will be in Ages to come. Let the Prince of the Morning sing to the land that green things will grow and the valleys give forth lambs. Let the arm of the Lord of the Dawn shelter us from the Dark, and the great sword of justice defend us. Let the Dragon ride again on the winds of time.” |
|
- from Charal Drianaan te Calamon, The Cycle of the Dragon, Author unknown, the Fourth Age. |
| Profile(s) | Character & RPer details | Short summary of the character |
 |
The Dragon Reborn The Car'a'carn at Aiel The Coramoor at Sea Folk Preppie Rand AIM: The Caracarn ICQ: 2125502 (Rarely on) |
"My Lord Dragon," Bashere intoned loudly, halting before the dias, "Lord of the Morning, Prince of the Dawn, True Defender of the Light, before whom the world kneesl in awe. I give to you Lady Dyelin of House Taravin, Lord Abelle of House Pendar, Lady Ellorien of House Traemane, and Lord Pelivar of House Caelan." The four Andorans looked at Bashere then, with tight lips and sharp sidelong glances. There had been something in his tone that made it sound as if he was giving Rand four horses. To say their spines stiffened would be to say water became wetter, yet it seemed so as they stared up at Rand. Mostly at Rand. He wanted to laugh at their outraged faces. Outraged, but also careful, and perhaps a touch impressed in spite of themselves. He and Bashere had worked out that list of titles between them, but that bit about the world kneeling was new, Bashere's own late addition. Moraine had given him the advice, though. He almost thought he heard her silvery voice again. How people see you first is what they hold hardest in their minds. It is the way of the world. You can step down from a throne, and even if you behave like a farmer in a pigsty, some part of each of them will remember that you did descend from a throne. But if they see only a young man first, a country man, they will resent him stepping up to his throne later, whatever his right, whatever his power. Well, if a title or two could make anything so, everything would be a deal easier. |
 |
'Min' Marla AIM: ... ICQ: 121894055 |
A dried branch cracked under Elayne's slipper, and Min jumped to her feet. As usual she wore a boy's gray coat and breeches, but she had had small blue flowers embroidered on the lapels and up the sides of the snug legs. Oddly, since she said the three aunts who raised her had been seamstresses, Min seemed not to know one end of a needle from the other. She stares at Elayne, then grimaced and ran her fingers through dark shoulder-length hair. "You know" was all she said. "I thought we should talk." She had an ability known to few in Salidar. Elayne and Nynaeve, Siuan and Leane; that was all. Sometimes she saw images or auras around people, and sometimes she knew what they meant. When she knew, she was always right; for instance, if she said a man and a woman would marry, then sooner or later they married, even if they plainly hated one another now. Leane called it "reading the Pattern," but it had nothing to do with the Power. Most people carried images only occasionally, but Aes Sedai and Warders always. Min's retreats here were to escape that deluge. |
 |
Also at the Borderlands Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ... |
“Why?” The word cut across the courtyard, souring the Andorans' faces. Davram Bashere was certainly no Andoran, with his tilted, almost black eyes, a hooked beak of a nose, and thick gray-streaked mustaches curving down like horns around his wide mouth. He was slender, little taller than Enaila, in a short gray coat embroidered with silver on cuffs and lapels, and baggy trousers tucked into boots turned down at the knee. Where the Andorans had stood to watch, the Marshal-General of Saldaea had had a gilded chair dragged to the courtyard, and spralwed in it with a leg over one of its arms, ring-quillioned sword twisted so the hilt sat in easy reach. Sweat glistened on his dark face, but he paid it as little mind as he did the Andorans. “What do you mean?” Rand demanded. “All this sword practice,” Bashere said easily, “And with five men? No one exercises against five. It's foolish. Sooner or later your brains will be spilled on the gruond in a melee like that, even with practice swords, and to no purpose.” |
 |
Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ... |
Dobraine, the front of his long, mostly gray hair shaved in the style of Cairhienin soldiers, definitely was not young, and yesterday definitely had not been his first battle, yet the truth was, he looked older too, and worried. Havien burst out, “Lord Perrin, it's the Lord Dragon. All that searching through corpses - ” “It seemed a little... excessive,” Dobraine interrupted smoothly. “We worry for him, as you can understand. A great deal depends on him.” He might look a soldier, and he was, but he was a Cairhienin lord, too, and steeped in the Game of Houses, with all its careful talk, like any other Cairhienin. Perrin was not steeped in the Game of Houses. “He's still sane,” he said bluntly. Dobraine simply nodded, as if to say of course, shrugged to say he had never intended to question, but Havien went bright red. Watching hem go to their men, Perrin shook his head. He hoped he was not lying. |
|
Also at the Black Tower Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ... |
Drawing off his gauntlets, Rand waved away Boreane's tray. Damer Flinn had risen from an ornately carved bench in front of the tent as Rand dismounted. Bald except for a ragged white fringe, Flinn looked more a grandfather than an Asha'man. A leather-tough grandfather with a stiff leg, who had seen more of the world than a farm. The sword at his hip looked as if it belonged, as well it should on a former soldier of the Queen's Guard. Rand trusted him more than most. Flinn had saved his life, after all. Flinn saluted, fist to chest, and when Rand acknowledged him with a nod, limped closer and waited until the grooms left before speaking in a low voice. “Torval's here. Sent by the M'Hael, he says. He wanted to wait in the council tent. I told Narishma to watch him.” That had been Rand's command, though he was not sure why he had given it, no one who came from the Black Tower was to be left alone. Hesitating, Flinn fingered the Dragon on his black collar. “He wasn't happy to hear you'd raised all of us.” |
|
Also at the Black Tower Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ... |
When Torval saw Rand, he straightened casually and saluted, but his expression barely changed. “My Lord Dragon,” he said in the accents of Tarabon, and he might have been greeting an equal. Or being gracious to an inferior. “There would have been wine to greet you, but this young... Dedicated... does not seem to understand orders.” In the corner, silver bells on the ends of Narishma's two long dark braids made a faint sound as he shifted. He had tanned darkly in the southern sun, but some things about him had not changed. Older than Rand, his face made him seem younger than Hopwil, but the red that rose in his cheeks was anger, not embarrassment. His pride in the new-won Sword on his collar was quiet, yet deep. Torval smiled at him, a slow smile both amused and dangerous. Narishma was not enjoying Torval's discomfort, though, or paying it attention. He looked at Rand without blinking, as though he sensed deep currents that the rest missed. Most women and no few men thought him just a pretty boy, but those too-big eyes sometimes seemed more knowing than any others. |
 |
Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ... |
The door opened again for Riallin. "An Aes Sedai has come to see the Car'a'carn." She managed to sound cold and uncertain at the same time. "Her name is Cadsuane Melaidhrin." A strikingly handsome woman swept in right behind her, iron-gray hair gathered in a bun atop her head and decorated with dangling gold ornaments, and it seemed everything happened at once. "I thought you were dead," Annoura gasped, eyes nearly starting out of her head. Merana darted through the ward, hands outstretched. "No, Cadsuane!" she screamed. "You mustn't harm him! You must not!" Rand's skin tingled as someone in the room embraced saidar, perhaps more than one, and swiftly moving well clear of Berelain, he seized hold of the Source, flooding himself with saidin, feeling it fill the Asha'man. Lews Therin snarled of killing and death, kill them all, kill them now. Riallin raised her veil, shouting something, and suddenly a dozen Maidens were in the room, veiling, spears ready. For someone who had caused all that, this Cadsuane seemed remarkably unaffected. She looked at the Maidens and shook her head, golden stars and moons and birds swaying gently. "Trying to grow decent roses in northern Ghealdan may be near to death, Annoura," she said drily, "but it is not quite the grave." |
 |
Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ... |
As soon as Rand was out the door Verin let loose the breath she had been holding. Once she had told Siuan and Moiraine how dangerous he was. Neither had listened, and now the passage of little more than a year saw Siuan stilled and probably dead, while Moiraine... The streets crawled with rumors about the Dragon Reborn in the Royal Palace, most beyond belief, and none that was credible mentioned an Aes Sedai. Moiraine might have decided to let him think he was going his own way, but she would never allow him to get far from her, not now when he was rising to such power. Not now when the hazard he presented had grown so great. Had Rand turned on her, more violently than he just had on them? He had aged since she last saw him; his face bore the tightness of struggle. The Light knew he had reason enough, but could it be the struggle was for sanity as well? So. Moiraine dead, Siuan dead, the White Tower broken, and Rand possibly on the edge of madness. Verin tsked irritably. If you took risks, sometimes the bill came due when you least expected, in the last way you expected. Almost seventy years of delicate work on her part, and now it might all go for naught because of one young man. Even so, she had lived too long, been through too much, to allow herself to be dismayed. First things first; take care of what can be done now before worrying too long over what might never be. That lesson had been forced on her, but she had taken it to heart. |
 |
Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ... |
Shockingly, Rand cupped Alanna's chin, turning her face up. There was a hiss of indrawn breath from Bera, and for once, Perrin agreed. Rand would not have been so forward with a girl at a dance back home, and Alanna was no girl at a dance. Just as surprising, her reaction was to blush and smell of uncertainty. Aes Sedai did not blush, in Perrin's experience, and they were never uncertain. "Heal me," Rand said, a command, not a request. The red in Alanaa's face deepened, and anger touched her scent. Her hands trembled as she reached up to take his head between them. Unconsciously Perrin rubbed the palm of his hand, the one a Shaido spear had laid open yesterday. Kiruna had Healed several gashes in him, and he had had healing before, too. It felt like being plunged headfist into a freezing pond; it left you gasping and shaking and weak-kneed. Hungry, too, usually. The only sign Rand gave that anything had been done, though, was a slight shiver. "How do you stand the pain?" Alanna whispered at him. "It's done, then," he said, removing her hands. And turned from her without a word of thanks. |