Arik Korpin crept silently through the Tower. No, not the Black Tower! The White Tower. The one that’s actually a tower, not the farmhouse one. Ever since Sathinar converted most of the Black Tower into a luxury resort for chickens, Arik had been spending more and more time in the White Tower.

Silently, Arik crept through the dark. At least, except for when he tripped over that drunk warder…then the silence was rent with a shout of “Blasted chic-er-warder!” He quickly ran away, when a filmy-dress clad Red stuck her head out of a nearby door.

When Arik stopped running, he found himself in the Novice Quarters. A feline grin swept over his face. Just where I wanted to be… Suddenly, he stopped. What was that??? There were strange…noises coming from one of the rooms. Curiosity getting the better of him, he crept closer…

“I call this first meeting of the High Order of Noisemakers to order!” Phrygiana said. “Shnargpht”

“Shnopt” Markieta politely replied. She was lovin’ her new roommate. At last, there was another Novice with her delight in strange noises. “Glovstih.”

“Wrthuy”

“Asjqurept”

Just as they were getting into the scene of things, they heard a knock on the door. Grumbling, Markieta got up to answer the door. Outside, stood a Dedicated. On closer inspection, she realized it was Arik, or at least, she thought that was his name. Shocked that he was in the Novice Quarters, she just stood there.

OOC: Okay, Arik, take it from there. Just talk to Phryg or me if you have any problems. Everyone else, ICQ me at 47767399 if you want in on this! We’d gladly let you join!

Markieta O’Beirne
Novice of the White Tower
Co-founder of H.O.N

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: The strange noises
Posted By: Phrygiana
Posted On: 9/9/99 2:33:40 PM

And it sounded something like this:

*snarphthpt* *growlgthz* *snogpht* *frizgpto* *whongptooo* *gleegnk*

Phryg
H.O.N

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: Reply to the H.O.N. thingy
Posted By: Arik Korpin
Posted On: 9/10/99 1:40:13 PM

Arik was situated in the Novice Quarters. There was nothing unusual about this. In fact, it was more usual than unusual, yes, it was even very usual. There were lots of new novices these days, and he had to keep an eye on them all. See that they did their things right, and didn’t slunter away.

Suddenly, he heard a giggling from one of the rooms. He first suspected it came from the closet nearby, but then he heard louder noises, and was able to trace them.

Slowly, he walked over to the door and knocked gently on the woody surface.

Now, these noises had not been normal noises, oh no… These noises were almost…. Yes, almost silly!

The door opened and he heaved a sigh of relief to see it was a novice and not a warder like the other times…. He shuddered… Warders had no place in these quarters…

“Well, hello there” he grinned. “I couldn’t avoid hearing the noises coming from this direction and I figured I had to check them out… Oh, yes, I do have a lot to check out, yes…” He laughed a bit and couldn’t quite manage to stop. In the end, the novice spoke up…

OOC: I think I need ONE more post…. then I’m ready for whatever you want to do with me *lol*

Arik

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: Great googglymooggly!
Posted By: Phrygiana
Posted On: 9/10/99 2:07:32 PM

Phrygiana wasn’t sure where it had started. It had probably been one of those odd noises she had a tendency to make when she started crying too much. I always began with a *sniffle* and eventually moved to a *snort* and then flipped completely into a *snargpht* And then with Marki there the whole thing had gotten completely out of hand. It was too funny to resist. The *shglarfph* and *zhweeng* were flying in every direction.

And suddenly, there he was. A handsome man she had never seen before standing in the doorway in a mad fit of laughter. This was a most unexpected development. Phryg yelped *yoightp!* and jumped behind Marki, bent over with laughter. They had been caught! Oh, perish the thought! Oh, the humanity! She hoped Marki would think of the right thing to say.

Phrygiana
Silly Novice
Co-founder of the H.O.N.
*yoingngngngngng!*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: Confronting the…handsome stranger? (Silly RP)
Posted By: Markieta O_Beirne
Posted On: 9/10/99 8:31:15 PM

Marki was startled when Phryg jumped behind her. It was just a handsome stranger after all. What was wrong with that? Didn’t she know that was a common thing in the Tower. The real question was how he escaped from the Green Quarters.

“Are you looking for your sister? I haven’t seen her, but I am sure she can be found…” Markieta said, as the Dedicated stopped laughing.

A horrified look passed over Arik’s face. “Light, no! I was just maraud…er…prowl…er..wandering the Novice Quarters, when I heard some strange noises coming from your room! I was wondering what was happening.”

Markieta laughed helplessly. “Oh…that was our meeting.”

“Meeting?”

“Yes. You see, Phryg and I…Oh, by the way, I am Markieta and this is Phrygiana…Well, we’ve decided to start a special society, called the Higher Order of Noisemakers, or H.O.N. Anyway, we were having our first meeting.”

Markieta looked at him, as interest began to dawn. Could this handsome stranger want to join?

OOC: Okay, there you go, Arik! Take it away. Ask to join, and have us tell you you’ll have to go through an initiation. Oh, and have fun!

Markieta O’Beirne
Novice of the White Tower
Co-founder of H.O.N.
“schnigldeflpt”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: Crunchy… er… crazy novices…
Posted By: Arik Korpin
Posted On: 9/11/99 8:41:46 AM

Arik raised an eyebrow. He was getting good at it and it brought him a smile from the two novices. “Higher Order of… Noisemakers…? What is that?”

“Well” one of the novices started to explain… “It’s all about making weird sounds!”

Arik mused about it for a moment, when suddenly she exclaimed a loud “schnigldeflpt” and began to giggle. He was used to novices giggling around him and it sounded like another nice game…

“Well… Higher Order of Noisemakers… Hmm… How many members are there?” By this time, he was grinning like a fool.

“Oh, only two,” she told him “but we might have more coming in soon…”

It was clear that she was hinting at something, staring into his eyes and clapping her hands fanatically, which was a bit unsual…

“Well, can I join then?” He winked at her.

“Sure! But first, there is an Initiation…”

“Well I like the sound of that…” This was too good to be true!

OOC: The things I do… and I don’t even know why… *sighs* Ok, so what happens now? *g* *w* *lol*

Arik

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: Arik’s Initiation (Silly RP OOC: *WEG*)
Posted By: Markieta O_Beirne
Posted On: 9/11/99 9:41:36 AM

Marki smiled widely. “Well, Phryg, it looks like we have a prospective member. Shall we tell him what the initiation holds?”

Arik began to look slightly nervous, as Phryg didn’g answer, only going into another fit of “shnaplokigurs” He looked to Marki.

“Okay, if you want to be a memeber of H.O.N. you must do this. Tomorrow, you must punctuate every sentence you say, no matter who you are talking to, with a silly noise. At the end of the day, you must stand in the gardens, outside our window and serenade us with a song, also full of silly noises. Are you up to this challenge?” She watched his face, grinning in a slightly evil way.

OOC: Okay, Arik, there ya go. You can decide if you want this to carry over into any IC posts or now. Regardless, you need to do it. Also, you have to actually put the song into your next post. Have fun!

Markieta O’Beirne
Novice of the White Tower
Co-founder of H.O.N.
“shigwiplobstplit”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: OOC: aaah my Creator!
Posted By: Arik Korpin
Posted On: 9/11/99 1:57:20 PM

A SONG??? How the BLIGHT!?!?!
Geez now I have to think of a song too… *goes to think* Oh well

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: Hey! You didn’t make a silly noise!!!!
Posted By: Phrygiana
Posted On: 9/11/99 7:23:24 PM

Come on, Arik. You can do better than that!

*schnorgph!!!*

OOC: During our trip to Kyu Shu, we had some time and began this Silly Story. We’ve since arrived in Washington state, but that’s okay, we forgive ourselves. *s*
There are several references to Japanese anime, so if you don’t get it, just move on.

“You’re such chotch!”

“Borax!”

“Don’t make me cave your face in!”

“Don’t make me rip your lungs out through your nostrils!”

“Mortal!”

With such outrageous effrontery, only one option remained.

“UNCHICKENISH!”

Taimandred staggered back as if struck by a large salami. The peaceful surroundings of Kyu Shu faded away and gave way to the silliness that is Dragonmount.

Taimandred’s face contorted in rage and madness as a bright golden flame surrounded him.

Lanfear knew she had a problem. Glancing back at Taimandred, who was sprouting yellow hair and whose eyes had gone pure white, Lanfear recalled promising Ishy a chance to go Super Saiyajin in her next silly story. Now would be a good time to fulfill her promise, she decided. As she grasped saidar and wove a gateway, she thought she heard Taimandred muttering, “Kakarotto…” under his breath.

Blood and bloody ashes! She had to find Ishy quickly; it would be only a matter of time before Taimandred tracked her down by sensing her massive ki. Such tremendous power must stand out like a beacon to him!

She found Ishamael wandering aimlessly around Shayol Ghul, laughing ishamicly every now and then and ordering whole villages destroyed. Ever since the Greens had painted his rooms green, he had been acting a bit strange. He used to deal in cities.

It’s no wonder those half-trained children are so screwed up, she thought. Just look at who leads them!

Anyway, she definitely (yes, definitely, next time we see a “defenately” we will personally rip the offender’s lungs out through his/her nostrils.)

Anyway, she definitely needed to give him a purpose in life. She judged that defeating her brother would be a good start.

Quickly relating the night’s events to him, she shoved him through a gateway and closed it behind him, cutting off his startled yelp. Dusting off her hands, Lanfear turned towards her rooms. She had other earth-shatteringly-important matters to attend to.

Callandor looked up from his compulsive tidying. His most recent project was the forest floor, which, oddly enough, seemed to be littered with assorted sizes and shapes of heron-marked Spam. Gazing above the tree line, he saw two bright lights in the sky. Climbing up a nearby tree to get a better look, he observed the two lights.

They seemed to be in some sort of dance, with the two lights circling each other, approaching and shooting away at great speeds, occasionally exchanging smaller lights. With a thoughtful smile, his thoughts turned to his bondholder.

Meanwhile, back at Shayol Ghul, Lanfear stormed into Demmy’s office proudly sporting her blue dress. She fixed her face with a wide scowl and prepared to recite her prepared speech. “No longer will I labor under the yolk of your command wearing as horrid a color as white. It is offensive to my very personage! I, Lanfear, Daughter of the Night, Sedai Cue’bekkar’sam, Tel’rhiod’raendar, Queen of the Chosen, Mistress of the Spork, Consumer of Mass-Quantities of Chicken, Dubbed Queen of Swaziland, Winner of the Millennial Free-for-all Kick-boxing Contest, Coolest Person in the World, Future Undisputed Ruler of Galaxy, Recognized Spiffy Person—(Taimandred: pstt.. Annette, I think that’s enough…) (Lanfear: *glares at Taim* Anyway…) do hereby declare blue to represent the glory and awesomeness which is myself. You cannot stop me! Resistance is futile!”

Demandred stood there stupefied, frozen in place where he had been toying with his Darth Vader light-saber and helmet. Raising his helmet to get a breath, Demandred opened his mouth to reply.

Lanfear’s eyes flashed, sensing opposition.

“But…uhh..”

“That’s it! I can’t stand such incompetence! I’m leaving!”

Lanfear stormed out, leaving Demmy to stare at her rapidly departing figure, only to return a moment later.

“And another thing—”

“Lanfear!” Demandred interrupted loudly, “You wear white on your own, no one is forcing you!”

He flashed an insufferable grin as Lanfear’s jaw worked silently, her scepter (spork) still raised high in the air. Realization struck her.

Finally composing herself, Lanfear stalked out without a word, snapping her fingers as she exited. Immediately, black-suited men with sunglasses appeared, pouring into the room and destroying all evidence of her presence.

“You saw nothing.” a man’s voice said as the camera blacked out.

Ishamael’s body came hurling through several obstructing trees. Callandor could only gape as Ishamael grinned and sprung back into the sky, glowing as brightly as ever.

Musn’t run away. I mustn’t run away…

Callandor dropped from the tree and fled, displaying impressive amounts of agility and speed.

Looking over his shoulder as he ran, miraculously not hitting a tree, Callandor realized that the lights were in fact Taimandred and Ishamael, duking it out. He decided that shouting a greeting to Taimandred was not the appropriate thing to do right then.

Taimandred took a deep breath, but smiled broadly. The black-clad man facing him was a fine adversary; there was no way he could win, but he put up a good fight, and it was really spiffy the way his eyes and mouth kept spouting flames.

“Who are you, anyway?” he inquired, blocking a punch and kneeing his opponent’s face.

The black-clad man drew himself up arrogantly. “Once I was called Elan Morin Tedronai, but now—”

“Ishy!!”

Ishamael coughed indignantly. “I prefer Ishamael or Betrayer of Hope.”

“Oh, very well, then.”

They resumed kicking and punching each other into various features of the now battered landscape. Occasionally, Taimandred would laugh arrogantly and kick Ishamael, while Ishamael would laugh ishamically and punch back. Neither of them even considered using the OP; Dragonball style was much too cool.

Meanwhile, Lanfear sat arrogantly upon her porcelain throne, going contentedly about her task. Soon, she laughed to herself,soon! Reaching for the TP, she wiped herself and stood up to go wash her hands.

She entered her other throne room and ascended the throne, her crystal throne.

Arrogantly, she summoned an NPC Black Ajah to stand before her.

“You will beg to do a task for me,” Lanfear instructed. “You may begin.”

The Black Sister stared at her in confusion.

“Now!” Lanfear snapped impatiently.

The Black Sister knelt gracefully. “Yes, definately, Great Mistress.”

Abruptly, Lanfear’s eyes lit up in flame (something she had learned from Ishy) and her hand shot out and relieved the Black Sister of her lungs via her nostrils. The body fell to the floor limply, followed by the lungs, discarded by Lanfear. She called another NPC Black Sister in.

Glancing at the discarded lungs, the Black Sister knelt before Lanfear, carefully avoiding the spreading pool of blood. She judged Lanfear wasn’t in a very good mood.

Lanfear gestured for her to come closer. Fearfully, she complied. Wiping the blood from her hand on the Black Sister’s immaculately white silk dress, Lanfear motioned for her to return to a kneeling position.

“You will beg to clean up this mess and do a task for me,” Lanfear instructed patiently. “You may begin.”

The Black Sister, having a three-digit IQ, complied instantly and without question.

Lanfear smiled in satisfaction, as she listened to the sniveling worm before her beg. Damn, I love being a Chosen, she mused.

“I have decided to allow you to clean up this mess, and do a task for me,” Lanfear said generously. “Here is your task: take this filmy, blue dress to the Red Ajah of the White Tower.” Lanfear handed her a bag with the words “AES SEDAI SUCK,” emblazoned on its exterior, with a crossed out Flame of Tar Valon beside them. It was the most inconspicuous thing she had.

Completely ignoring the Black Aes Sedai’s cries of gratitude, she stalked out of the room, the matter already forgotten.

Taimandred was seriously kicking Ishamael’s buttocks. Ishamael felt as if he had broken his ribs and was bleeding internally in three places, despite all the golden flame and yellow hair he had.

“Dammit,” he though, “this has to end.”

Taimandred threw a tremendous ball of energy at him, and watched as Ishamael struggled to hold it back.

Without warning, a huge, metal hand swatted at Ishamael, barely missing.

“What the –”

There, a giant robot stood, towering over their tiny forms.

“Damn, I missed!” came Callandor’s tinny voice over the loudspeaker of the Evangelion Unit. Changing tone, he added, “Hey, Taimandred!! Glad to see me?”

Taimandred, so deeply proud of his brother Asha’man, lost all the anger that suffused his heart. Without the rage to power him, he lost hold of Super Saiyajin, and his hair returned to dark brown, as did his eyes.

Falling out of the sky, Taimandred would have broken every bone in his body, had Callandor not reached out to catch him.

Ishamael, still surrounded by his bright aura and his Super Saiyajin state not in jeopardy, smiled pleasantly down at Taimandred. This would definitely be fun.

Taimandred quickly took the opportunity to prepare his final move, one that demonstrated the cunning and power embodied in his school of training. Passed down the long Eronaile bloodline, it had saved many of his ancestors in times of the greatest need. Adjusting his stance, and putting a hard gleam in his eye, he announced his decision.

“Ishamael, I will now execute my final technique. Prepare yourself.”

Elan Morin grimaced. “Look at you,” he said scornfully. “Once you stood first among the Servants. Once you wore the Ring of Tamyrlin, and sat in the High Seat. Once you summoned the Nine Rods of Dom – Wait! Wrong note-card..” Ishamael replaced the note-card in his robe, and having no clue what to do, folded his arms and frowned self-consciously.

“Eronaile final technique! Ready… Set… Run away!!!”

Taimandred darted from the robot’s hand to a nearby treetop, from whence he hid among the brush and moved from tree to tree into the sunset.

Ishamael smiled in genuine amusement. These mortals were certainly crafty creatures. Sparing a quick fireball to destroy Callandor’s robot and singe his hair, Ishamael intercepted Taimandred.

Taimandred, resorting to another powerful technique, had donned a bright yellow flannel and fluorescent pink slacks.

“Do you have the Song, stranger?”

Ishamael looked at him, decidedly unimpressed. With a curt, negative answer and a gesture in his direction, Taimandred found himself flung against a tree. He gasped and sputtered, hoping to maintain his illusion.

“Peace be on you always, and on all the People. I will find the song, or another will find the song, but the song will be sung, this year or in a year to come. As it once was, so shall it be again, world without end .”

His dark adversary laughed once again, darkly. Licking his lips in anticipation, he began caving Taimandred’s face in.

Lanfear once again stalked into Demandred’s office, this time garbed in her usual white. She waited patiently, seeing that Demandred was busy.

“You missed a spot!” Demandred roared harshly. Slayer was on his knees before him, licking his shiny black boots clean. “Please forgive me, Nae’blis,” Slayer said, as a large glob of drool came pouring out of his mouth, I will do better next time.” He lowered his head for another lick just as he noticed Lanfear.

Quickly rising, he wiped the saliva from his mouth with his arm and nodded to Lanfear curtly. “You still have to do the other shoe!” Demandred raged. Slayer’s face turned red and he slowly backed out the door, stepping around Lanfear, pointedly avoiding her mocking gaze.

“I swear,” Demandred complained, “If he didn’t keep my boots this shiny, he wouldn’t be worth the air he breathed.

Lanfear nodded in agreement before she began heralding her announcement. “I, Lanfear, Daughter of the Night, Sedai Cue’bekkar’sam, Tel’rhiod’raendar, Queen of the Chosen, Mistress of the Spork, Consumer of Mass-Quantities of Chicken, Dubbed Queen of Swaziland, Winner of the Millennial Free-for-all Kick-boxing Contest, Coolest Person in the World, Future Undisputed Ruler of Galaxy, Recognized Spiffy Person, do hereby declare white as the color to represent the glory and awesomeness which is myself. As it once was, so shall it be again.”

Demandred looked up at her, speechless. What could one say to something like that? Seeing his astounded look, (he was probably enthralled at her awesomeness), Lanfear walked out, thoroughly satisfied.

As she walked down the hall, once again taking a wrong turn, a Super Saiyajin Ishamael gatewayed in, carrying the broken and battered black-coated form of her brother in weaves of air.

“What? You dare to lift a finger against my kin? You can be sure that the Great Lord will hear about this!”

Ishamael looked at her incredulously. “You told me to… and besides, why would the Great Lord care?”

Lanfear stood there, unsure of how to proceed.

“So…?”

Ishamael shrugged and handed her her brother. “You figure it out,” he said as he reverted from Super Saiyajin to his normal, non-glowing self. “Oh, and by the way, your quarters are that way.”

Lanfear frowned and stalked off in a different direction from the one he had pointed. God, her sense of direction sucked.

Two days later she arrived at her quarters. Taimandred had since regained consciousness and staggered after her. “Hey Lanny,” Taimandred called, “Do you think you can get me healed now?”

Lanfear frowned. “There’s always Semhirage.”

His face going pale, Taimandred quickly shook his head. “I think I’ll pass…”

Mocking her brother for a while longer, Lanfear called for a Dreadlord to come heal him.

“Thanks, Sis,” he said after it had been done. “I’m sorry I called you a mortal.”

“I’ll let it pass this time,” Lanfear said, “Oh, and sorry for calling you unchickenish; you’re my kin! Of course you eat a lot of chicken!”

Harmony having been restored in the Eronaile family, the silliness of DM faded and was replaced once again by the harmonious island of Kyu Shu. Brother and sister, had yet again proved themselves as the coolest people in the world.

THE END

This story is written to ashame Sathinar and Ishamael for what they did to Nymphia and I… They humiliated or hurted us in public and we decided to turn the tables. It took a while to write the story, but here it is. I hope you enjoy it.

Lanfir awoke with a groan and raised her right hand instinctively to slap the sunlight that had the nerve to awake her.

“Ah, my Aes Sedai is awake.” A familiar voice said mockingly.

“Oh Darkseid, shut up.”

She rolled over to her other side and ignored her warder sitting on his favorite spot by the window he just opened.

“My head hurts.”

Slowly she opened her eyes, but closed them from the bright sunlight. It hurt.

Darkseid laughed brightly. “How surprising Lanny. You know you can’t drink Ash and Dark Blight under the table. You never did before, so why now?”

Lanfir pulled herself up into a sitting position, still covering her eyes with one hand.

“It seemed a good idea somehow. And we had something to celebrate now that DB is back.”

“You have always a reason to drink, Lanny.”

“We all have our weaknesses.”

Lanfir sighed. She removed her hands from her eyes and squeezed them shut at the same instant.

“Where did you sleep?”

“On the couch. Now could you please go and search for Therva to heal your headache? Your pain affects me too.”

Just as Lanfir opened her mouth to react, Ash Gaidin burst into the room. “Rise and shine my sweeties! It’s a wonderful new day!”

Lanfir threw her pillow at him.

“Why aren’t you moaning and sleeping off your hangover, Ash?” She accused him.

“What hangover?” He smiled beamingly. Lanfir threw her other pillow at him as well before she chased her warders out of the room.

She dressed herself quickly and looked in the mirror. She looked like a mess. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed and her hair… It just wasn’t the same since that goat-kissing Sathinar had cut it off. She clenched her teeth and looked at the curls that only reached to her jaw now. A terrible length. She couldn’t do anything with it. She sighed and braided it in lots of little braids like a Taraboner. Then she went to look for Nymphia Sedai. She did not have the guts to go to Therva; she was quite sure Therva would refuse. Therva was a sweet person, but lately Lanfir seemed to need her Healing every other day. Nymphia would surely understand – they had known each other for years now. They had been roommates as novices.

She wandered slowly through the hallways, trying to ignore her hangover, when she suddenly saw Silver Sedai sitting in a window.

“Silver?”

The Blue Aes Sedai looked at her and smiled cheerfully. “Oh, hi Lanfir. Isn’t it a wonderful day to fly?”

“Er, Silver, where is your warder?”

“Dalinarius? Oh, he’s still at the Black Tower; he’s sleeping. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just wondering.” Lanfir took her Sister’s arm and pulled her gently out of the window. “Why don’t you give it a try at another window? At the second, or the first floor? We’re at the eighth floor now, you see and there is nobody here to help you. Maybe then someone will help you flying on the first floor.”

“Oh, all right.”

Silver smiled cheerfully and walked away in opposite direction. “Thank you, Sister!”

“Anytime!” Lanfir waved and continued her search. When she turned around a corner, she bumped into Ranges and Ladon Gaidin. “Hi boys!” she grinned. “Hi Lanny!” They said in unison. Lanfir noticed the teapot in Ranges’ hand. “Is that mint tea?”

Ranges nodded. “Morgan’s wake-up-cup. She will be annoyed all day if we don’t get her some now.”

“Well, the two of you better hurry then. I have to work with her this afternoon.”

Ladon grinned. “With all respect, it’s already afternoon.”

“Gekkie.” Ranges added.

“Sukkeltje.” Lanfir told him and went on.

Before she had reached the next corner, she got pushed away by a running and panting Jon’atha.

“What’s wrong, Jon?” Lanfir called after him.

“No time!” he yelled back and looked over his shoulder with a wild, hunted look in his eyes.

The next moment she was passed by Alanna and Ciara, also running. Jon’atha shrieked and fled.

“But Jonnie, we just want to give you a makeover!” Ciara called after him. She and Alanna exchanged a look and giggled. Then they continued their hunt.

“Poor Jonnie,” Lanfir muttered. She sighed and pressed her hand to her forehead. The pain had not dimmed at all. Maybe a cup of mint tea would help. On her way to the kitchen, she passed the Green Mailbox and looked into it. She grabbed some envelopes and putted the bonding requests for Alanna back in the box.

“When was this thing emptied for the last time?” she asked a NPC novice.

“Only yesterday, Lanfir Sedai.” The novice told her. “You had a lot of mail obviously.”

“You could say that.” Lanfir muttered. She sought the envelopes addressed to her out and read them while walking. “A request for bondage…” She shook her head. “Maybe later. A request to be Green Ajah member… Hey… And another one.” Lanfir sighed. It was rather hard to be Head of the coolest Ajah.

She continued checking her mail. The bill of her mint tea account. “Oh, Light!” she gasped. Her ongoing account at the Spring of Morning seemed to get higher every week.

An anonymous letter. “Hey, Lanny. Like your new haircut!” Anger welled up in her. “Sathinar… You’ll pay for this.”

“Hi Lanny,” a familiar voice behind her said. She turned around and recognized Nymphia Sedai. “Hi Nym,” she smiled. ” I was just looking for you.”

Nymphia sighed impatiently. “Let me guess. You want to be Healed.” Nymphia grinned as Lanfir blushed. They walked arm in arm to Nymphia’s room to drink some tea and to be Healed. Lanfir gave her friend some tips and comfort; her friend had lost her warder shortly after the Breaking.

“Seems we have some annoying enemies, Lanny.” Nymphia mused. “Ishamael killed my warder and Sathinar killed your haircut.”

Lanfir pouted, touching the tiny braids without thinking. “I want revenge.”

“I can imagine that. Let’s make a plan.”

Nymphia bowed her head to Lanfir and they started to whisper, until Lanfir thought of tearing up a shield against listeners.

They talked and planned a while, until Nymphia finally said, “Ok, here’s the plan. Don’t you think Shayol Guhl needs a bit of redecorating? Maybe mint green would be a nice color. Or maybe only Ishamael’s rooms. It will tell him not to mess with the Greens.” She started to laugh. “I really think Ishy would like us to do that.” Her laughter became an evil grin. “I think Ranges would help us and your warders of course.”

Lanfir thought it over and started grinning also. “Yes Nym, that would be a great idea, BUT that is only the beginning.”

Nymphia poured two cups of tea. “A good idea indeed.” She sipped her tea. “How’s the headache?” She grinned while Lanfir looked at her a little angry. Then Lanfir started laughing too. “Now, what about Sathinar?”

Nymphia started thinking about it, which was very hard since she was already thinking about where to buy the paint for Shayol Ghul and who to ask for help.

After two hours of drinking tea and laughing about silly ideas, Lanfir left Nymphia’s room. They still hadn’t thought of anything to make Sathinar suffer.

“Ok, Nym, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Nymphia grinned. “Are you sure?”

“Haha, very funny!” She laughed as she walked away.

Just as Nymphia turned back in her room, she saw Jon’atha running from two Aes Sedai screaming, “I don’t want a makeover!!” The two Aes Sedai just laughed. Nymphia recognized them as Alanna and Ciara. She smiled and shook her head.

She was finally alone. She thought about Vegeta and grimaced. That bloody Forsaken! He’ll pay for what he did, she thought angrily.

But first, food. Maybe some grapes would be nice. And a cup of cinnamon tea; she was really getting tired of mint tea. Nymphia left the room again and headed for the kitchen, thinking about mint green paint and makeovers.

When she got in the kitchen, she saw a few novices making chocolate pudding and smiled. Oh, Kathana. She told a novice to bring some cinnamon tea up to her room and fixed herself a peanut butter sandwich.

“No grapes today?”

A novice answered. “No, we’re out of grapes. The last supplies were sent to the Red Ajah quarters, Nymphia Sedai.”

“Well, doesn’t matter. I’ll eat a banana instead.” Nymphia put the sandwich and the banana in a pocket hidden in her dress.

She left the kitchen and walked towards Lanfir’s room. Standing in front of the door, she heard Lanfir yell. “No, stop it! I can’t take it any longer! How am I supposed to work when you…” Then there was laughter, giggling and screaming. She knocked at the door, but there was no answer. She opened the door slowly and saw Lanfir lying on the floor with Dark Blight sitting on top of her. He was tickling her. Her head was all red and tears of laughter rolled over her cheeks.

Nymphia coughed. “Excuse me. Lanfir?” Lanfir looked up.

“Oh, it’s you, come in.” She pushed DB aside and got up, adjusting her dress.

Nymphia grinned. “Having fun?”

Lanfir blushed. “Yes, thank you. What is it dear?”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe we could have a party tonight. I’m certainly in the mood for some distraction.”

Lanfir started smiling at the word ‘party’. “Of course, great idea! But who to invite?”

“We could always invite Sathinar, get him drunk and let Alanna and Ciara have their way with him. They will give him a makeover. We could help them.” She grinned at the idea. ” I think a perm would look great on him. We could shave or wax his legs. His pubic hair must be waxed also. And his eyebrows… I always thought he would look a lot better that way, don’t you?” She looked at Lanny expectantly.

“Maybe… That looks like a good idea. Have to think about it a little though.” Lanfir’s eyes shone with enthusiasm. She surpressed a giggle. “What about pink hair? It looked so cute on Darksmoon.”

“That’s alright.” Nymphia could see how Lanfir’s brain almost worked overtime when suddenly Lanfir asked, “What’s that smell?” She walked around the room sniffing. “It smells like peanut butter and banana!”

“Oh, that’s me!” Nymphia took her sandwich and a somewhat squashed banana out of her dress. “This was supposed to be my dinner. Ah well, I’ll change my clothes and get new food while you think about it, ok?”

“Ok, I’ll come to your room when I’ve made up my mind.”

“Ok, see you!” Nymphia left the room, leaving Lanfir alone with DB again. When she rounded a corner, she heard Lanfir screaming and laughing again.

——————————————–

It was never hard to find Sathinar. Just look for pigeons. With this in mind, Nymphia walked around the Tower. Lanfir had send Morgan off to Shayol Ghul so she could take Ishamael away from there and they could go there and do their work. Maybe she would take Ishamael to the Spring of Morning Inn, drink a few glasses. Nymphia hoped that he wouldn’t notice that it was a trap. He had to leave Shayol Ghul for the whole afternoon. Tough, but Morgan could handle it, she hoped.

Nymphia’s thoughts led back to Sathinar and to pigeons as she bumped into someone.

“Oh, Zildamai, excuse me, I didn’t see you coming.”

Zildamai smiled. “You were thinking about something, dear? Maybe a new warder?”

Nymphia tensed, then relaxed, remembering that she wasn’t talking to Ishamael. She smiled.

“No, not a new warder, although I could use one right now. Vegeta always reminded me of things I forgot. Sometimes, I think I could be a Brown sister. Just the other day, I forgot my peanutbutter sandwich and my banana were hidden in my dress. The banana came out squashed!”

Zildamai grinned. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Not since Ishamael killed…” She stopped in mid-sentence. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know this was still such a painful subject.

“Don’t bother,” Nymphia grimaced. “I’ll get my revenge. Talking of this, have you seen Sathinar?”

Zildamai looked startled. “Sathy? What does he have to do with revenge?”

“Oh, nevermind. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Oh, by the way, Lanny is throwing a party soon.” Nymphia said as she walked away. As soon as she rounded the corner, she started running after Saths.

“Saths! Sathy! Sathinar!!!”

He stopped running and looked over his shoulder. “Ah, our nymphomaniac Green Sister! What a pleasure to see you here,” he grinned.

“The name is Nymphia, Sathy, and if you can’t say that, just don’t talk to me at all, okay?”

His smile faded but came back in the same speed. “Not in a good mood today, Nymmie?”

Nymphia sighed. “No, not really and you aren’t making it any better. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about a party. You are invited to one. Tomorrow night in the Green quarters. Make sure you’re there; You don’t want to miss it. We have pigeons just for you.”

Sathinar’s eyes got brighter at the word ‘pigeons’ and he said, “I’ll be there.” Then he started chasing some animal.

Nymphia turned and went to Lanfir’s room, knocked, and went inside. Morgan was there too. Nymphia looked surprised. “Aren’t you supposed to have a pleasant afternoon with Ishy, our great friend?”

Both Morgan and Lanfir sniffed.

“He went away for the weekend; he needed the rest or something like that.” Morgan said, while sipping from a cup of mint tea. Lanfir poured another cup for Nymphia and said, “Great, this is going better than I expected! Now he can’t catch us doing the redecorating. The surprise will be bigger this way. How did it go with that bloody Sathinar?” She fingered her short curls.

“He’s coming tomorrow night. I told him we would have pigeons here especially for him.” Nymphia grinned. “Oh, and I invited Zildamai too, that’s okay right?”

Lanfir said with an evil grin on her face, “Yes. I want as many people as possible to see Sathinar with a new look.”

After a few cups of mint tea, both Morgan and Nymphia left the room to do some things for the party. Lanfir had her own things to do. She let a novice call Alanna and Ciara to her room.

Alanna and Ciara knocked on the door.

“Enter.”

“Hi, Lanfir, how are you?”

“Fine Alanna, and how are you two?”

Ciara answered. “Fine, we almost caught Jon’atha.”

“I’ve got something better for you to do.” Lanfir told the two. “I think Sathinar wants a makeover. Tomorrow night, bring all you need. He will be here waiting for you.”

Alanna and Ciara smiled. “He wants a makeover?”

“Yeah, I think he does. He made that clear to me.”

“Okay, we will see you tomorrow night. Bye!” Alanna and Ciara left the room again.

Lanfir walked to her window. She looked outside and saw Sathinar chasing pigeons. You will pay Sathy, she thought and turned away from the window.

In the meanwhile, Morgan and Nymphia were preparing the party. They went to the kitchen and ordered lots of grapes and a bit of chocolate pudding. Morgan told a novice to tell every Aes Sedai about the party. Everyone was invited. They bought enough liquor to let everyone pass out and borrowed a few flimsy dresses from Francesca Sedai.

Lanfir had sent Dark Blight, Darkseid and Ash Gaidin for some mint green paint, enough to make Ishamael crazy. They stored all of it in their rooms. They also bought paintbrushes. Ishamael would be surprised when he got back home.

Back in Lanfir’s room, they played a game of Twister while Lanfir was choosing what to wear.

“Maybe this green boa would look nice, don’t you think?”

Morgan and Nymphia were trying on the dresses from Francesca.

“That green one is pretty.”

“No, that light purple one. I want that one.”

“Fine by me. How would this blue one look on Sathy?”

Nymphia poured two cups of tea. “I guess it would look great, Morgan.” she smiled.

Morgan said, “I’m going to the practice yard later. Are you coming with me? I promised Ranges I would come to see his new trick.”

————————————

Lanfir sat down and opened a bottle of brandy. She thought she deserved it after all the preparations for the party.

“Do you think it is smart to drink brandy, Lanny?” A mocking voice behind her said. Lanfir turned around to give her warder a hot reply, but Dark Blight was dangling Blackthorne/Rose on his knee and was obviously too busy to hear her.

Blackthorne giggled, “We all know what brandy does with you, Lanny.” and cut her words off with a shriek when DB started to tickle her senseless.

Lanfir sighed, but did not say anything about it. She herself wasn’t monogamous at all, so why should she demand that from her warders? She looked up when Morgan sat down next to her on the couch. Morgan wore a marvelous green flimsy dress and she held a teapot in her hand.

“Nice dress, Morgan. If you’d wear that one more often, you’d soon have more warders than I do.”

Morgan chuckled. “Thanks. Wanna have a cup of tea, too? It’s the special blend.”

The last part was whispered… The Green Blend was a well-kept secret within the Tower. One was never sure whether the Greens drank normal tea or the Special Blend – and the Greens wanted to keep it that way.

“No. Thank you, Sister.” Lanfir smiled, holding up the bottle of brandy. “Is everything ready for the party?”

“Yes, we just have to wait for the visitors. Nymphia told me she’d be here right away… She was talking to this warder-in-training in the Practice Yard, together with Zildamai. The boy certainly had a cute butt.”

Lanfir chuckled. “And skills, I hope.”

“What skills?” Morgan winked and they both laughed… though the sound of it got overwhelmed by Blackthorne’s shrieks, who was being tickled now by three men: DB, Darksmoon and Ash.

As time went by, the Green Quarters filled with Aes Sedai, warders and Asha’man, and as more time went by, they all drank. And they all became something between tipsy and terribly drunk. Lanfir was just having a great time on Darkseid’s lap with her brandy when Alanna pulled her at her sleeves. Her sister pouted heavily and told her, “Sathinar is not here yet. Did he change his mind?”

“I’m sure he didn’t.” Lanfir assured her, trying to figure out how empty her bottle was. She got interrupted by the door, which slammed open and showed the silhouette of a man, who shouted for pigeons.

“See? There he is!” Lanfir laughed and gestured Nymphia (who also seemed to have a great time, staring the warder-in-training in the eyes) nearby.

“We are going to give him some pigeons, stuffed with forkroot. Ranges took care of that, he seemed to have a supply of it.” Lanfir did not even notice Morgan’s sudden paleness. “Anyway, us Aes Sedai lose the ability to channel for a while, but Sathinar will just lose consciousness for a little period. That is when you, Alanna and Ciara, are going to give him the makeover. I don’t think we should have him rational during the session.”

Luckily, neither Alanna nor Ciara asked her further questions about Sathy’s willingness. Lanfir had never been this close to lying before.

Lanfir gave Sathinar his first roasted pigeon herself. He eyed her suspiciously, but she just gave him her sweetest smile. “Don’t worry Sathy. I won’t kill you.”

“No hard feelings at all?” he asked, surprised. Lanfir fingered one of her tiny braids. “Oh well, kinda like these braids. It’s a change, but I quite like it.”

It was somewhere during the second pigeon when Sathy collapsed, just as he muttered something about rather eating them raw. Lanfir watched him fall on the floor, chugged the bottom of her brandy bottle and giggled.

“Err, girls? I think it’s time. If you need a hand, just ask me.” And she fell about giggling, and then she passed out herself.

————————————-

Nymphia awoke with a groan. So, this is how it feels. Poor Lanny. Ah, my head. She could vaguely remember being at a party. She turned over to her other side and fell asleep again.

Three hours later she awoke again, not feeling much better. She now remembered more and she blushed at the remembrance. “What was his name again? Ah well, I’ll find out eventually.” She remembered he had a cute butt though.

Nymphia got out of bed and took a bath; she smelled like brandy, tea, whiskey and maybe six other liquors. When she got out of the tub, she felt much better. She got dressed and left her room. As she walked around the Green Quarters, she saw Sathinar with a perm and green hair, lying unconscious on the ground. He was wearing a dress and make-up. His stockings had runs in them. Nymphia grinned, she remembered the makeover now. Alanna and Ciara had done a fine job on Sathinar.

She walked on to Lanfir’s room. There were several people lying on the floor, still asleep. She recognized Ranges with a stuffed animal in his arms. He muttered something about Morgan’s wake-up-cup or something like that.

Lanfir’s door stood open. Lanfir was lying on her bed; one shoe and her dress still on. Her warders were lying on the floor, snoring. Nymphia saw that there was no way she could get Lanfir to get up now, so she left to find Therva. Her headache was killing her and she felt ready to throw up any minute now.

Her head spun. She could not even begin to imagine she’d paint Ishy’s rooms today… or even how she’d be conscious. The only thing she wanted was to sleep or puke.

“Lanfir?” she asked quietly.

To her surprise, her Sister woke up and gave her a glare that almost chased her out of the room. “Now what?”

“Er, I wonder if you could Heal me… my head hurts a little,” Nymphia continued just as quietly. She wondered if dying at the spot would not kill the pain easier.

Lanfir watched Nymphia a bit hazily, then threw her head back and laughed.

“As if I could even start to embrace saidar today! I am suffering worse than you do, Nymmie.”

“Oh,” Nymphia said disappointed. “Shall we go and find ourselves a Yellow, then?”

The Head of the Green Ajah looked at the sleeping warders in her room. “That would be a good idea, I think.” She sighed, rubbing her head. She moaned. “We have work to do…”

When they left Lanfir’s bedroom and entered her study, they were disturbed by a scream so aweful that the hair in their necks stood rigid in the same instant. “What was that?” Lanfir asked, her face a paler shade of white.

“I don’t know,” Nymphia answered, “but it came from your bathroom…” They exchanged a look and ran over to Lanfir’s bathroom. There they found Sathy, looking at his reflection in the mirror with a look of pure horror on his face. He spun around and glared at the Aes Sedai, his eyes blazing with fury.

“You!” He hissed at Lanfir, then turned to Nymphia. “You did this to me!” Sathinar could be really scaring when he wanted to, and he was certainly trying this time, but all that happened was that both Aes Sedai began to giggle. Sathy looked… cute!

“Love your haircut, Sathy.” Lanfir giggled, leaning heavily on Nymphia, who had a hard time herself with standing erect. It was just so funny to see the arrogant Sathinar with cute little green curls in his hair, the make-up on his face and the ribbons on his pink dress. “Yes.” Nymphia added, while she felt tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks. “You look SO cute this way, I think we should have to keep you like this.”

—————————————-

Inverted weaves of Air made them all invisible when they silently entered Shayol Ghul. Morgan had made a Gateway to a corridor close to Ishy’s room and was the first to step through. “Follow me,” she whispered. “I know the way.” And so they went.

Lanfir’s head popped up around the corner. Morgan waved to her. That was the sign; everything was safe. Lanfir motioned Nymphia to follow her.

Nymphia caught up with Lanfir and whispered, “So, he really went away for the weekend? I’ll go get the guys with the paint.” Nymphia tiptoed back.

“What’s taking them so long? Oh, Lanfir and Nymphia and their stupid ideas!” Dark Blight muttered to Ash. Ash only grinned. Dark Blight, Ash, Darkseid and Ranges had come with the three Aes Sedai to help them paint a room. At that moment Nymphia came tiptoeing around the corner.

“Come on guys!” she whispered, “We don’t have all day!” She tiptoed back to Lanfir while Dark Blight, Ash, Ranges and Darkseid followed with the mint green paint.

All of them tiptoed to Morgan, who had just opened the door to Ishamael’s room with one of her hairpins. As soon as the door closed behind them, they opened the cans of paint and each took a brush. They started painting and soon the whole room was mint green.

At that time, not only the walls and the ceiling of the room were green, but also Ranges hair and clothes and Nymphia and Lanfir both had green streaks on their faces and clothes. Morgan’s dress was even greener than it normally was. DB, Ash and Darkseid were also green. They looked at each other and bursted into laughter, satisfied with their work. “I am sure Ishy will love his new room.” Nymphia grinned.

Together they cleaned up the mess they had made in Ishamael’s room and went to the Spring of Morning Inn to drink to the end of the revenge of Lanfir and Nymphia.

They were sitting there for only half an hour when they heard a scream of rage coming from Shayol Ghul.

“Ishy found his room.” Lanfir and Nym said to each other and laughed in unison.

“It’ll show him not to mess with the Greens.” Lanfir said satisfied and poured herself another cup of mint tea.

~Lanfir and Nymphia~
Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah
and not to be messed with

The Wheel of Time turns and ages come and go, leaving memories that fade to legend, and legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten by the time the age that gave it birth comes round again. In an age called the third age by some, the age of silliness by others, a wind arose on the slopes of Dragonmount. The Wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time (a situation people on the Wheel don’t like, as well as people in line for riding on the Wheel). But it was a beginning.

The wind howled, crisp and strong like a strong…. crisp…. howling…. thing. It blew down on peasants doing peasanty things along the river. It blew on merchants doing merchanty things, and finally crossed the river, and blew to the White Tower.

Kathana Justinia Trevalaer, The Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, The Amyrlin Seat, pulled a strand of wind-blown hair out of her mouth. Fool wind! Why wouldn’t it leave her alone? Then she remembered that she was Amyrlin and the most important person in the world. The wind would be just naturally drawn to her.

She began tapping a roll of parchment on the balcony railing. So Phoenix thought he could have a humor contest, did he? A faint memory of smelly socks and utter humiliation stirred in her brain. She owed Phoenix a debt, and she always paid in full.

Kathana turned to go back into her rooms. This would require some help and there was only one other who could help her. Poking her head out the door, she told the novice attending her to send her the Keeper’s Warder, Lone Wolf. She giggled in a most un-Amyrlin-like fashion. “His little Amyrlin pet indeed.” She muttered.

Her message to Lone Wolf sent, she quickly became bored. She thought about sending for some more chocolate pudding, then thought better of it. Ciara had been giggling at her at the dinner table lately.

Chissa knocked politely at her door. “Mother, your afternoon appointments have arrived. What should I do with them?”

“Appointments? Oh yeah! The Warder candidates. Send the first one in please, dear.”

Chissa nodded. “I’ll be going on my break soon, Mother. I’ll just leave a note for the rest of your appointments to let themselves in.” Then she was gone.

Soon, a tall man in a black coat swaggered in. “Hello Mother. Meet your new Warder.”

“Hello Sam, but we’ve already met.”

“Well, yeah, I was trying to use one of those attention getting phrases people use sometimes…” He trailed off.

“And aren’t you already bonded?”

“Yeah, but…I wanna be a Warder!”
“Fine, fine… Let’s talk then. Why should I bond you?” “Well…You used to be a Brown, right? And they like to study things, right? I’m going to go mad because of the Taint, right? So if you were bonded to me, you could study the madness first hand.” He finished with a hopeful look.

“That’s it?”

He nodded.

“Okay… Let me get this straight. You want me to bond someone, who is already bonded to his ex-Forsaken girlfriend and is going to go mad, just so I can study his going mad? Oh and there is also the slight chance that the madness might backfire through the bond and start to affect me?”

He nodded again.

“Right. And what about you and Blackthorne? What happens to me if you two…umm. How to put this delicately? Go on vacation again?”

Sam looked puzzled. “I don’t get what you mean, Mother.”

She blushed. “Well…You know…If you two…Um…Do those things that you two do… When you really like each other…”

“Oh that! Well…I sorta thought that you’d like it.”

The novice, Latrania by name, went down the halls, not knowing in the slightest where to find this… What was his name? Lone… Fox? I think that’s it. She traveled past the Greens Quarters, and heard a commotion behind a door.

“I’m darker!” Said a voice.

“No you aren’t! I am!” Said a second. There was laughter from a third, followed by…

“You’re both wrong. I am the darkest one!”

“You can’t be! Even your name says you can’t!” said the second voice again.

“What’s wrong with my name?”

“Nothing, but it just can’t possibly be the darkest!” Said the first.

Latrania opened the door, not knowing what to find, having never seen a real live Darkfriend before, and was surprised to see three men, all familiar to her, none of them Darkfriends.

Darksmoon glared at the other two. “Why can’t I be the darkest? I never get to be the darkest!”

“Darksmoon? C’mon.” Darkseid replied, absently plucking at his harp, twang, twang, twang… “Even the name says “Shining Light,” therefore, you can’t be the Darkest.”

Spoing! One of the strings popped out.

“But I never get to be the darkest!”

“Excuse me…” Latrania began, but got no farther.

“Oh quit whining, you little baby.” Dark Blight said. “It’s obvious I’m the darkest! Look at me! Dark Blight. Dark is Dark, and the Blight is the home of the Dark!”

“But I’m Darkseid! And Dark is Dark, and seeds are found in the ground, and underground is dark, therefore, I’m the darkest!”

“I wanna be the darkest!” Darksmoon whined again.

“You can’t!” the other two said in unison.

“Excuse me…” Latrania tried again, but, of course, they didn’t pay attention.

“I never get to be Darkest! You two are always picking on me! Waaaah!” He threw himself on the floor, kicking his feet, and pounding his fists. Darkseid and Dark Blight exchanged looks of disgust.

“Oh, get up you big baby,” Dark Blight said, just as Lanfir Sedai entered the room.

“I felt some turmoil through the bond (James Bond).” She said, “Are you three at it again?”

“Oh, umm, well….” Darkseid sputtered.

“You see. We were just… uhh… That is… ummm… I love you.” Dark Blight said, smiling his best.

“I wanna be the Darkest! I never get to be the Darkest! It’s not fair! Waaaah!” He hadn’t heard Lanfir come in.

“DARKSMOON.” She said sternly. His cry cut off in mid-breath, and he looked up at her. As she expected, there were no tears in his eyes. He had been crying just to get his way.

“Why can’t you three be more like Freman?” They all turned away, and shuffled their feet. “Freman never argues with anyone! Freman never says he’s the Darkest.”

“Yeah, but he’s-”

“I don’t care. Darksmoon, get up.” He got up and stood between Darkseid and Dark Blight. Latrania watched with interest, So this is how you deal with unruly Warders…

“Darkseid, go to your room. I will punish you later.” Darkseid went.

“Darksmoon, you go to your room, too. I will punish you later, also.” Darksmoon went.

“Dark Blight, I will punish you shortly. Go to my room.” Dark Blight went, but Latrania could have sworn she saw a small smile on his face. She didn’t understand it though. However, she didn’t have time to wonder about it though, because Lanfir turned to her.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, child. Why were you here, anyway?” She curtsied low, lost her balance and fell over. She picked herself up, and curtsied again, smiling weakly.

“I was sent by the Amyrlin to find Moaning Fox, but I don’t know where he would be.”

“Who?”

“Moaning Fox, I think his name is. I don’t exactly remember. The Amyrlin called for him in regards to Phoenix’s humor contest.”

“Moaning Fox? There’s no one here by that name. Did she tell you anything else about him?”

“Well, He’s bonded to Chissa, and-”

“Oh! You mean Lone Wolf!”

“Yeah, that was his name! Silly me. I’m horrible with names.”

“Yes, silly you. Lone Wolf can usually be found in the hydrangea garden outside of the novice headquarters.”

“Why? What’s out there?”

“The Eternal Flame of Tom Valor. He watches it on occasion. Usually when he’s depressed about something.” She felt Dark Blight through the bond (James Bond). “Oh my, I have to go. I must punish my Warders.” She giggled once, then cleared her throat hurriedly, a blush rising to her cheeks as she exited the room.

The next Warder candidate came in. “Mother, look no further. I am the one you’re looking for.”

He gave a sweeping formal bow and remained crouched near the floor for some time. Finally, Kathana cleared her throat. “And you would be…?”

“Darn! I knew I forgot a part! My name is Ladon and I am the coolest Warder.”

“Right. And what makes you so cool?”

“I have an army of Protiss Knights at my beck and call.”

She gave him a blank look.

“The Knights of Protiss are among the mightiest warriors who ever did mighty things. Plus, I write poetry.”

“You do? I love poetry. Could I hear one?”

“Of course, Mother. I wrote this one for you actually.”

Ladon assumed a poetic stance, one hand over his heart, the other held out towards her. “Shall I compare thee to a well-worn mop? Nay, for the mop is nicer and soggier. The mop cleans the floor and stuff like that. The Amyrlin just hangs around and eats pudding. So what shall we do with this useless woman? This strange, messed up woman that the angels name Glinda the Ghetto Witch? Shall we kiss her feet and shame the noble mop? Or should we find something else to do?”

“Okay, that’s enough. I’ve heard enough.” the Amyrlin interrupted hastily. “Why don’t you go…somewhere while I think it over? Go watch the Star Wars trailer with Sam or something. Oh and send in the next one while you’re out there too.”

The Hydrangea garden next to the novice quarters. I know where that is….

Latrania began walking toward the novice quarters. Suddenly, someone had grabbed her by the front of her blouse and was lifting her, looking into her eyes.

“I love her! I want her! You have to help me!” She looked into his eyes, where something akin to craziness danced. Insanity, possibly.

“What? Who the Light are you?” He put her down, and with a flourish, bowed low.

“Roland Broadcloak, at your service, ma’am.” He said in a perfectly sane voice, with perfectly sane eyes. He stood, and tipped her a wink, meant to be charming, and then took a step forward, grabbed her blouse and hoisted her again. He looked into her eyes, and immediately started laughing. He put her down. “Man, I can never do that without laughing. Okay, okay, okay, okay. Here we go. Let’s try this again.” he cleared his throat and lifted her again. He looked into her eyes, and said nothing.

She looked at him.

He looked at her. He put her down again and turned toward the prompter. “What’s my line?”

The bespectacled man looked down at the rolled piece of paper, and said, “Uhhh…. Your line is… ‘Now, where’s the Amyrlin?’ and she asks why, and you say ‘Because I need to talk to her.’”

“Oh, right. Thanks.” he turned back to Latrania.

“Be careful lifting me this time. You hurt me last time.”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll be more careful.” He lifted her carefully, and the light of insanity came through his eyes.

“Now, where’s the Amyrlin?”

“I don’t- I- Why do you want to know?”

“Because I need to talk to her! She’s holding Warder interviews and I have to be there, so she can be my- I mean I can ward her- I mean- Doh!”

Latrania busted up laughing. Roland put her down, and stepped back.

“Okay, one more time. We’ll take it from that line I flubbed, okay?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever. I have my lines down.”

“Shut up.” He lifted her a third time, gently again, and spoke carefully. “Because she’s holding Warder interviews and I have to be there so I… Can… Be… Her… Warder!”

“As far as I know, she’s in her study. Now can you please put me down?”

“Oh, right, sorry. It’s just that sometimes, people don’t want to stay and talk to me. I don’t know why. It’s like they think I’m-” he broke of in mid-sentence and started growling. Latrania wondered about it, and then looked over her shoulder. Ranges had turned the corner and was walking toward them. Something was in his hand.

Roland’s growling increased. Ranges stopped and looked at him, the pudding cup momentarily forgotten. Roland barked.

“Gekkie!” Ranges said.

“Bark! bark! grrrrrrr bark!”

“Gekkie gekkie gekkie!!!!!”

“Bark! woof woof, arf, grrrrrruff”

“Gekkie Gekkie Gekkie!”

Latrania turned and left Roland, Ranges, and the small bespectacled man, and continued on toward the hydrangea garden. She came to the novice quarters, and looked around for the Hydrangea garden.

“Ta daaaa!” the Warder finished up his routine. “I bet you never met another Warder that could play the accordion, while tap dancing!”

The Amyrlin picked her head up off the desk. She couldn’t for the life of her remember his name. She supposed it didn’t matter. “No, I can honestly say your one of a kind.”

“So do I get the job?”

“Umm…How about this? Don’t call us. We’ll call you.” She told him.

“Really? You’ll call me? Oh boy…” the nameless Warder began gathering up his accordion and tap shoes. The accordion made a wheezing sound as he dropped the shoes on the floor in a loud clatter. Kathana winced. It was a horrible racket. The fool grinned at her as he tried to pick up the shoes. She clenched her teeth and told herself that it would be wrong to throw him out the window on flows of Air.

Finally he managed to get out the door, without dropping anything. She could hear him moving done the hall, wheezing and clanging at every third step. She was beginning to think this Warder thing was overrated.

There, through that window! There was the Hydrangea garden. Now, how to get to it. She turned left and went out a side door.

An alarm started blaring, and she took her hand off the crash bar. Then she noticed the sign on the door. In bright red letters, right in front of her face it read:
EMERGENCY DOOR
DO NOT OPEN
ALARM WILL SOUND

She stepped back and the door closed, shutting off the alarm. She felt her face warm, and she was glad there weren’t really any such things as Novices in this White Tower. Since that would have been REALLY embarrassing.

She looked to her left, and saw the other exit door, this one with no EMERGENCY sign on it. She opened it, and there was no alarm. She stepped out, and looked around. Where was Lone Fox? She would probably find him if she found the Eternal Flame of Tom Valor. Whoever the light that was.

She looked around, but didn’t see anyone, or any flames or anything.

Then she heard a cough. She looked over to where she had heard it, and there she caught a flicker of something orange. A Flame!

She had found him. She stepped toward him, and there she saw he was not alone. He was sitting with someone. Another Aes Sedai, she thought. She approached, and caught the last end of their conversation.

“Okay, so, what we decided on is… Chicken, then the egg, and then the sock, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what we decided.” The Aes Sedai replied. Latrania recognized it as the voice of Chissa, the Keeper of the Chronicles and Head of the White Ajah.

“Now, what should we do about this problem with Francesca, and Ender?” Chissa asked. “I think they got caught once again with the filmy dresses, and the grapes, even though Francesca passed that law about the burlap dresses. It would seem she’s just doing that to keep Ender for himself. I’ll have to look into that. And apparently Lanfir is using excuse she can to “punish” her Warders. I don’t want to go there, but the Amyrlin forced me to take care of it.”

She sighed heavily just as Latrania cleared her throat.

Chissa turned. “Yes, my child?” Latrania bowed low, and fell over again. With a very unladylike curse pertaining to behaviorisms with one’s self in regards to reproduction, she rose to her feet, and saw Lone Wolf trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile.

Chissa had her Aes Sedai face in place, but her eyes were laughing too.

“Lone Fox, the Amyrlin would like to see you.” Chissa lost her cool and started laughing.

“Fox! ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha elloell!! elloell!”

“What?” Latrania asked.

Lone Wolf turned a quizzical glance toward his bond (James Bond), and asked what elloell meant.

Before Chissa could recover, Tarishma and Bellina came charging around the corner and into the clearing.

“Fox? did someone mention Fox? Where is he?” Tarishma cried.

“I’m going to bond him!!!” Bellina called out right after her. “He’s going to be my Warder!”

“What did I say?” Latrania asked.

“Chissa,” Lone Wolf began again, and then was interrupted by a storming Aiel, carrying a cardboard cut out of a man in a nicely tailored suit.

“Who mentioned Fox? Everyone KNOWS Krycek is much hotter then Fox! Krycek is soooo fine.” She said, running her hand over the cardboard Krycek’s chest. She rested her head on the cardboard shoulder and looked into his cardboard eyes lovingly. She sighed. Krycek bent in half and spilled her on the ground.

She jumped up with a curse, and kicked the cardboard. “You betrayed me Krycek! You aren’t even strong enough to hold my weight! That’s it. I’m going to Mulder now! I’ve given you the best month and a half of my life. Well, it’s over now! and I’m keeping the ring!” She displayed such a large diamond ring that it made Lone Wolf wonder where she got it.

She stomped off. By now, Chissa was in convulsions, laughing so hard. She had plopped down on the bench, and held her face in her hands. She kept muttering “elloell, elloell, elloell.”

Lone Wolf turned to her. “Chissa, what does that mean?”

“Once Chissa gets going, you aren’t going to stop her.” Tarishma replied. “But I can tell you what that means.”

“Oh, well, what does it mean?”

“Elloell means Laughing out loud. See? LOL. Laughing Out Loud? Get it?”

“Yeah, I get it. Thanks.” He shook his head. Elloell. sheez. Light preserve me, or burn me. Or both.

“So,” He said instead, “The Amyrlin wants to see me? What for?”

“Umm, it’s about Flagstaff’s story contest.” “Flagstaff?” Bellina asked. “Who’s that?”

“You know, Flagstaff. The Dragon Reborn.”

Chissa erupted into new waves of laughter and fell off the bench. Lone Wolf was smiling.
“No, no. His name is Phoenix.”

“Same difference.”

“Not really. the difference is about a hundred and fifty miles.” The knowledgeable Lone Wolf said.

“Oh.” Latrania colored again. This was not really a good day. “Either way, the Amyrlin needs to see you.”

“Yes, okay. She commands and I obey. Lead the way.”

They started walking back to the Amyrlin’s Study, leaving Chissa and the other two behind.

The door creaked open gently; a tall handsome Warder tiptoed in. He snuck up to where the Amyrlin was bent over her desk, looking over applications. Moving carefully, so as not to disturb her, he crept up behind her. He grabbed her from behind and planted a huge kiss on her forehead.

Kathana screamed, “Roland! What are you doing, you nut ball?”

“I’m so sorry, my precious. But you looked so wonderful sitting there. I just had to kiss you.” He pulled her out of her chair and held her much too tightly in his arms. He pressed his cheek to her forehead and began to croon, “Bond me, my darling. We can have so much fun together. We can travel around and see the world together. Caemlyn, Cairhien, that funny looking statue poking out of a hill, Maradon. On cold, rainy days, I can bring you chocolate pudding in bed and we can cuddle. I’ll carry around a big parasol for you in the summer, so you don’t sunburn your dear little nose.” Roland trailed off as if trying to remember something. “Oh shoot! Line!” he called.

A little man carrying a huge script hurried into the room. He began flipping through pages, muttering to himself. “Let’s see…Where were you? You said the parasol part?” Roland nodded. “Okay then you give her the flowers now.”

“Right! How stupid of me…”He smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. He let go of the Amyrlin, who gasped for air. Roland had VERY strong arms. He pulled a bedraggled bunch of daisies from out of his cloak and presented them to Kathana.

She raised an eyebrow at them. “Did you pick these yourself?”

“Of course, my little love muffin. How could you tell?”

“You left the roots on. They are dripping mud all over my shoes.”

“I’m so sorry, pookie-bear.” He bent and began polishing her slippers with his handkerchief.

“No, it’s okay. Really, it is. ”

His hands began creeping up past her ankles. “Stop that! I mean it!” She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up. “Leave. Now.” She pushed him out the door. Shutting it solidly behind her, she turned to face to room. Roland’s prompter still stood there, clutching his script. She pointed at him, “You too, buddy. Out. Now.”

“Aw, man. I really hate following that nutter around all the time. He can never remember what he is supposed to say or do. All he does is talk about you and grapes.”

“Yeah, whatever. Out.” She pointed him out the door. He wandered out, still muttering about filmy dresses and grapes.

Once they got back inside the Tower, Sathinar greeted them.

“Hello Wolfie.” He said.

“Hello Sathy.” Lone Wolf replied evenly.

Sathinar turned dark, and muttered something about Shadar Logoth, and a dagger. Then louder, “Don’t call me Sathy, you scribbling guesser.”

“If you call me cookie, I’ll call you cake. And I prefer to be called a theorizing scribe, thank you very much.”

“You won’t win! I will! I will write such a story, it will make you look like a child’s crayon scribble work! You can’t defeat me! I am all-powerful!!!! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

“No no no. Saths, you got it wrong.” Lone Wolf said. “For a proper evil laugh, you have to start with a Mwa. It’s ‘Mwa ha ha ha ha’ not just ‘Ha ha ha ha.’ Okay?”

“Oh, okay. Let me try.” He cleared his throat. Latrania waited impatiently. “Muuah ha ha ha ha ha. How was that?”

“Has to be faster. That was a moo-ahh ha ha ha. It has to be Mwa. Mwa. Try again.”

“Oh, Mwa. Okay. Here we go. Mwa ha ha ha ha ha. How was that?”

“Great man! You got it!” Lone Wolf clapped Sathinar on the back. “Now go and practice that.”

Sathinar wandered off down the hall, randomly laughing.

Lone Wolf watched him go.

“Hey, Porcupine. You coming?”

“That’s Wolf, Latrania.”

“Yeah, whatever. C’mon.”

They had gone halfway to the Amyrlin Study when Kagato jumped out with a piece of paper in his hand. “Lone Wolf, I am gong to prove to you that the Heron Mark™ Store does not have everything in the world!”

“It does, how many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Okay, A Heron Mark™ Santa Claus Bel Tine ornament.”

“Those are on aisle 14.”

“A Heron Mark™ sparkplug from a 1967 T-bird, built by a guy named Phil in the late years of the second age.”

“Sparkplugs are organized by year of creation, model they fit in, and name of the creator, all in the mechanics department. You would find it there, yes.”

“Okay, you won’t have this one. A salami, cream cheese, and trolloc sandwich, made from a trolloc named Hgggjythgkrt, and topped with lettuce grown in the westernmost northern field of Farmer Bjorn Hyonivik’s Andoran field, and sprinkled with peppers imported from Seanchan, all on Heron Mark™ bread.”

“Oh, you would go to the deli and ask for a number 6.” Kagato stomped his foot and retreated back to the dark depths from whence he came.

Latrania and Lone Wolf went the rest of the way to the Amyrlin’s study without being disturbed.

Latrania went in to announce Lone Wolf. She made a deep curtsy and fell on her nose. As she scrabbled up, she noticed the Amyrlin’s shoes were unusually muddy for someone who spent most of her time in her study. Maybe she had an accident with her chocolate pudding.

“Mother, I found Lonely Turtle for you.” She said.

“Lonely Turtle? What under the Light are you driveling about now, child?”

The novice sighed. Why couldn’t she remember his name? “The man you wanted me to bring you.”

“Oh, him. His name is Lone Wolf, dear. Not Lonely Turtle.”

“Okay.”

The Amyrlin waited. “Aren’t you going to show him in, dear?”

“Oh whoops. I always forget that part too.” Latrania hurried out the door and came back with Lone Wolf.

He bowed, fist over heart. “Mother, the Watch is not done.”

Kathana frowned. “I’ve always wondered why Warders say that.”

Lone Wolf shook his head, “I don’t know. It’s one of those things they taught us to say in Warder school. Along with fading into the background and moving silently through trees and other Wardery things.”

“Ohm okay. Anyways, I need your help with something. Phoenix is holding a humor contest. I still need revenge on him for making me kiss his feet and say I was his little Amyrlin pet. I’m sorta busy interviewing new Warders right now. I was wondering if you could help me write my story.”

“Of course, Mother. Anything to help out.” He gave another elaborate bow. “What’s the plan?”

Sathinar was fuming.

Here he had been, all ready to let Lone Wolf have it, and he had been so easily manipulated, it wasn’t even funny. Lone Wolf wasn’t even an Aes Sedai. He had no experience in Daes Damar. He shouldn’t have been able to manipulate him, but he had easily.

Sathinar was not happy. He was however, practicing his laugh. Had to get that down. It would seem that at the next meeting of the Fraternal Order of Madmen, he would have a few choice words to say to the Supreme Grand Poobah Potentate. He hadn’t, after all, been told that an insane laugh was supposed to start with “Mwa”. He was just told to laugh evilly. Oh, he was going to have it out.

But in the meantime, he had to practice his laugh.

“Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha!” He continued down the hall. Then, to his utter joy, he saw Francesca Sedai, a robe wrapped closely around her, emerge from her quarters. He ran up behind her, and laughed.

“Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!”

She turned with hardly a start and sighed. “Sathinar, what are you doing?”

“Practicing my evil laugh. Did I scare you, Franny?”

“Well, you’re aggravating me, Sathy. Does that count?”

“Don’t call me Sathy.”

“Don’t call me cookie, and I won’t call you cake, alrighty?”

Sathinar momentarily froze. Those were the exact same words that Lone Wolf had used. What did that mean? Were Francesca and Lone Wolf having a torrid love affair? Sathinar had long suspected there were some sisters in the Tower who had wanted to have a torrid love affair with Lone Wolf, but he had never been able to prove it.

Besides, taking in all accounts, Francesca had a thing for Ender. Why else would she make Narell wander around in big shapeless burlap potato bags? To make her unappealing to Ender was the thought that sprang to mind. And no one had really witnessed her burning her filmy dresses, but everyone had seen her burning Narell’s….

All that went through Sathinar’s head in a second, and in the next, he was carrying on the conversation like none of that had occurred to him.

“Right. And I don’t think it counts. Lone Wolf said that the Mwa at the beginning-”

“Lone Wolf? Lone Wolf?” She laughed out loud, then clutched her robe around her tighter, but not before Sathinar caught a glimpse of a filmy material underneath. “Lone Wolf wouldn’t know evil if it spit on his Heron Marked™ boots. He’s as innocent as the Amyrlin is. Which is rather humorous, considering the rumor about them.”

“Rumor? What rumor?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want this to go any farther, but Ender told me that Hawkwing told him that Nynaeve had heard from Dahlia that Danelle was overheard to have told Ben Gaidin that she heard from Chissa that Lone Wolf and the Amyrlin were actually embroiled in a love affair.”

“They are?”

“Well, no one seems to know for sure, but it does make for juicy gossip doesn’t it? And what else do us Reds have to do? There aren’t enough of us to go out hunting men, so me and Narell sit inside and gossip most of the time. Except for the times when I’m with End- I mean… Uhhh… Ummm… Out… Watching… uhh… the Warders… Practicing. In the practice yard. Where they practice.”

Narell came up at just that moment, carrying a large pail of…. something. Sathinar strained to see inside. Then he saw what she was carrying, and inwardly cringed. Someone was gonna get it. She walked on, carrying her burden, and went into the Red’s quarters.

When he turned back to Francesca, she was walking down the hall, towards Ender’s room.

Sathinar watched her walk, then turned and continued up the hall, past Francesca’s room, where wet slopping sounds could be heard through the door.

Apparently the bucket was meant to surprise Francesca. Looks like Narell found out, Franny, Sathinar thought. He turned and looked out at the Hydrangea garden, and here came Chissa, Keeper of the Chronicles, and head of the White Ajah. She was laughing, and clutching her stomach. He wondered what she found so funny.

Chissa came up and looked at him. He tried again.

“Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!”

Chissa busted up laughing and fell to the ground, clutching her stomach, and leaking tears to the ground. She lay there, for a long time, just laughing and laughing. Sathinar couldn’t get her to stop.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ho ho ho ho elleoell! elloell! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!!!!”

Around the corner came another figure. Sathinar recognized him as Ranges, and immediately beat a discreet retreat. He walked back up the hall, practicing his laugh, and when he turned and looked back, Ranges was leaning over Chissa, and trying to talk to her.

“Gekkie? Gekkie gekkie!! Gekkie, Gekkie, gekkie? Hargen vurshten, halken de shtorkenvie?” Sathinar shook his head and wandered off down the hall, practicing his evil laugh.

And oh, he would have such a story. He would beat Lone Wolf. He would humble Lone Wolf. He would make Lone Wolf, a true Lone Wolf.

Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Ooooh, that was a rather good one.

“Alright, so that’s what we’ll do.” The Amyrlin finished with a satisfied smile. “Capeesh?”

“Done.”

“Feels good.”

“Beatniks!”

“What?” Kathana blinked. “Why did you say ‘Beatniks.’”

He looked at her very seriously. “I don’t know. But I’ll try to find out for you.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. You do that.”

Narell finished lining Francesca’s bed with the wet pasta from her bucket, and smiled to herself. She swears she’s cool. Just because she beat me to head of the Reds. I’ll show her. No one makes fun of Elaida do avriny a’Roihan and gets away with it.

Wait a minute, I’m Narell. Not Elaida. She blushed, even though no one would have heard her had someone been there, but the feeling that she was still acting like a child wouldn’t leave.

Try and steal Ender from me, will you? I’ll show you. You’ll be picking pasta out of your hair ‘till Tarmon Gaidon comes ‘round, I swear it under the Light. She smiled to herself again, and walked out of the quarters.

A man jumped in front of her, surprising her.

“Roland? What are you doing? You aren’t in this scene! You’ll ruin the story!”

“I know. I know I’m not supposed to be here, but I can’t find Alphonse!” He said it in a panic stricken tone.

“Alphonse? Who’s he? I’ve never heard of him! That’s not even a Randlandian name!”

“I know, he’s my prompter. He has the script! I don’t know my lines without him! We were together in the Amyrlin’s study, and then she kicked me out, and I wondered why, but I must have wondered too far, cause I got lost, and had to find my way back, and by the time I got back, he was gone, and now I can’t find him…” He broke into sobbing tears.

Despite her Red Ajahyness, she put her arms around Roland and held him. “It’ll be alright,” she said. “We’ll find your prompter. We’ll make sure he’s here for the next scene you’re in.”

“You- you really think so, mister?” Roland seemed to have lost all sense of his surroundings. Including the Red Sister holding him.

Narell looked into his eyes- he had rather handsome eyes, especially in this vulnerable state, and stroked his hair. It was nice and soft. She liked it.

“Yes, Rolly. I really do. In fact, why don’t you come in, and lay down on the couch for a few minutes, collect yourself, so no one else sees you crying?”

“Oh-oh-oh-okay.” He said between hitching sobs, not noticing Chissa and Ranges just twenty feet away. Chissa however, was still laughing, and not ready to move for another ten minutes at least, and Ranges was still going on in that weird language, whatever it was. That Warder really needed to get some sleep.

She led Roland inside and laid him on the couch. She stroked his hair off of his forehead, marveling at how smooth his brow was, and asked him if he wanted anything to drink.

“Can- can I have suh-some Kool Aid?” He asked.

“Kool Aid? Uh, yes, of course. What flavor?”

“Purple.”

“Purple?”

“Purp-Purple.”

“Okay. Just stay right here, dear.” She patted his head, still amazed at how smooth it was, and went into the kitchen. On the way, her eye alighted on one of Francesca’s filmy dresses that had been left draped over a chair. A thought occurred to her, but she dismissed it.

She went into the kitchen and thought, The oven must be on. It sure is warm in here. She went over and checked, but it wasn’t. She opened the pantry to see if there was any “purple” Kool Aid and there was.

Purple. Grape flavored. On an impulse, she went to the refrigerator and looked inside. Yep, there were some in there. The thought reoccurred, and this time, she allowed herself to ponder it. Would it work?

“Hi Mother. We’re here for the swimsuit contest.” A group of smiling Warders in swimming trunks marched into her office. They lined up in front of her desk and struck various poses.

“You what?” Said the Amyrlin incredulously, trying very hard not to stare.

“The swimsuit contest. You know, to help you pick a Warder.” The one in front of the desk told her matter-of-factly. “We thought a swimsuit competition might help you decide.”

Kathana tried desperately to ignore the one on the end who was flexing and posing in a most disturbing fashion. “I see.” She said, trying not to look. “Um…Look, I don’t need…this. Could you please take this somewhere else? I think maybe the Greens would be a little more appreciative.”

The lead Warder shrugged. “Okay, Mother. Have it your way.” He and his little parade trooped out with a smile and a wink.

Roland lay on the couch, still weeping, but much more collected now and happy that he was going to get some purple flavored Kool-aid. He closed his eyes, and wiped the tears away, wishing he knew where Alphonse was.

When he opened them again, Narell was standing before him. At least, he thought it was Narell. It looked like Narell.

“Hello, Roland”

It sounded like Narell. But Narell wore baggy, shapeless burlap potato sacks. Not the clingy, filmy wisp of nylon that this angelic beauty was wearing… and what was that in her hand?

She came and sat over next to him, a beautiful smile spread across her face. She placed her hand lightly on his chest and caressed it. He looked at her, and then she held out the grapes to him.

The air rippled in the center of the study. A man stepped out. His eyes shot roaring flames at the Amyrlin. “Bond me woman!!” He shouted. “Then kneel before the true Servants of the Great Lord!!”

Kathana jerked back in her chair. “Ishamael! What do you want?”

“Shut up, you pitiful worm! You will bond me as your Warder!”

“No way! Your one of the Forsaken!”

“Don’t call me that. We prefer to be called Chosen. It’s more politically correct.”

“I don’t care! I’m not bonding you. Why do you want to be my Warder anyways?”

That brought him up short. “Hey…That’s a good question. Why do I want to be your Warder? I’ll go think this over. You wait here, okay?” He seized the True Power and ripped a hole in the Pattern. “See you soon, Mother. MWAHAHAHAHA!!!” He said, stepping through the shimmer.

Kathana stared at the place where Ishy had been standing. “Pudding.” She muttered. “I definitely need some pudding now.”

Elsewhere in the Tower, Alanna Mosvanni glided gracefully down the corridor. She was going down to the notice board in the main hall to see if anyone had replied to her request for a Warder. She sighed and pouted dramatically in disappointment. Only seventy new messages today? Yesterday, there had been ninety. Perhaps she should go borrow a filmy dress or two from the Reds.

She decided to go strut around the practice yard, in one of her most alluring outfits and see if she could drum up some more enthusiasm. Turning to go, she noticed a parade of half-naked men entering the Green’s Quarters. “Well now.” She murmured, raising one eyebrow. “I didn’t know they delivered.”

Lone Wolf was out on his quest to discover exactly why he had said “Beatniks.” His quest took him to Serafelle’s quarters, to see if there were any other references to Beatniks in Randland history.

He knocked on the door, but got no reply. He knocked again, but there was still no reply. Serafelle was probably headbanging to her Yanni music again. He smiled at the thought and tried the doorknob. It was open. He poked his head in and was about to speak, when he saw exactly what was going on.

Ben and Serafelle were wrapped in an embrace and kissing in a way Lone Wolf had heard of, but never actually had enough guts to try.

He cleared his throat. Ben and Serafelle immediately separated. Serafelle took her seat behind her desk, and smiled at Lone Wolf, the picture of Aes Sedai calm. Ben’s face was flushed and he was busily trying to tuck his shirt back in.

“Sorry.” Lone Wolf said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt an important business meeting.” He winked at Ben. “If you would like me to come back later….”

Ben gave Serafelle a look that said Yes. Send him away. Have him come back later.

Serafelle smiled at Lone Wolf. “No, no, it’s quite alright. What do you need, dear?”

“Well, I’m looking for the origin of a term.”

“Alright. What term is it?”

“Well, it’s-”

The door banged open and Sathinar came barging in. “Sery, I need-”

“Rules.” Serafelle said simply.

Without breaking stride, Sathinar turned and went right back out the door, closing it behind him.

“Now, what did you need Lone Wolf?”

“Well, I needed-”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

“Who is it?” Serafelle called out.

“Sathinar.” The voice came from behind the door.

“What do you need?”

“The origin of a term.”

“Come in.” Sathinar came in, glanced at Lone Wolf, then Ben, noted the flushed face, and then turned to Serafelle.

“I need to know the origin of the term-”

“Wait a second. You don’t just come barging in and demand something. Ask.”

“Ask?” What kinda concept is this?

“Yes. Ask.”

“Will you give me the origin of the term-”

“Please.”

Sathinar blinked. “What?”

“Say please.” Lone Wolf started laughing.

“Fine. Can I please have the-”

“May I.”

Sathinar gritted his teeth. “May I have the origin-”

“May I please….”

Sathinar closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. “May I please have the origin of the term “Mwa”?

“No. Go bug Kathana. She used to be a Brown.” Sathinar’s face grew a deep red, then he marched out of the room. “Now, Lone Wolf, what term do you need defined?”

“Term? Oh, yes, term. Uhh, Beatniks.”

“Beatniks?”

“Beatniks.”

“Hmmm. Sounds like it’s from the second age. Let me look it up.” She pulled out a huge leather bound tomes and flopped it down onto her desk. It sagged visibly under the weight of the book.

She flipped open the cover, and read down the page. “Ahh, beatniks, page 234, 523.” She began flipping pages one by one. “One, two, three, four….”

Ben reached over and flipped a bunch of pages at once. Serafelle looked at the page number. “1,024, 1,025….” Ben flipped a bunch more pages. “10,567, 10,568…”

Ben flipped more pages until he got to the desired page.

“Ah.” Serafelle said. “Here it is. I knew I would find it eventually. It was all a matter of time.” Lone Wolf looked at Ben and Ben gave him a look that Lone Wolf backed away from.

“Now, Beatniks… In the middle years of the second age, there were three men said to have mentioned Beatniks. Their names were Tomse Rvo, Crowtr Obot, and Joel Robinson. They were once reported to have said rather cryptically… ‘If you have more then two polo shirts, you’re not a beatnik. If you own even one Night Ranger album, you’re not a beatnik. If you find yourself saying things like… I’ll be right over after I clean up! Or… Hey, c’mon, I really like the Gym teacher! Or… Could you please pass the spring rolls? You’re probably not a Beatnik. Capeesh? Done! Feels Good! Beatniks!” She looked up at Lone Wolf. “Does that help you?”

“Sorta, but why did I say it?”

“It’s called rhysnophria didididitisis. It’s a genetic memory being spun out from the Wheel.”

“Don’t we usually call that the old blood coming out?”

“Well sure, if you want to use the layman’s term for it. I find incomprehensible technical terms to be more precise. Is that all you need?” She finished, glancing at her impatient Warder.

“Well, yeah. I guess. Thanks.”

“Glad to be of assistance, dear.”

“Wolf.”

“What?”

“It’s Wolf, not deer.”

“Oh…. right. Okay.” She cast a look at Ben, who shrugged.

Lone Wolf stepped outside the office, but before the door closed all the way, he heard a little snatch of conversation.

“Come here, you Master of Arms, you.” There was silence for a few seconds, and then: “Oh! And hands!”

Lone Wolf closed the door and turned. There was Sathinar.

“Well, Wolfie… It looks like I have you here where I want you. Don’t write that story I know you’re planning to write… Or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Ummm… Well…. You know… Or else.” Sathinar nodded his head in emphasis.

“No, no Sathy, I don’t. Tell me.” Quick as a viper, Sathinar had drawn his plastic McDonalds Spork and had it up against Lone Wolf’s neck.

“Don’t… Call… Me… Wolfie.”

Lone Wolf cracked up laughing. “You did it again, Jim!”

“Did what? Oh no, not the thing… with the names?”

“Yeah, you got ‘em mixed up again. Ha ha ha.”

“Okay, you guys. Let’s get back into character, huh?” The Co-director’s voice cut over the intercom.

“Yeah you guys, it’s hard enough to work with you…” The other Co-director’s voice came over the PA.

“Yes, Mr. Cuellar.” Jim/Sathinar said.

“Yes, Miss Shifflett,” Paul/Lone Wolf said.

“Thank you.” The two directors said in unison. “Now, take it from the line, Don’t call me Sathy.”

“Righto,” Lone Wolf said.

Sathinar took his place next to Lone Wolf. He placed the Spork back at Lone Wolf’s neck. “Don’t… Call… Me… Sathy.”

Lone Wolf moved his finger up, and repositioned the Spork so the smooth curved edge was against his neck. Ahh, much better. “Well, if you call me cookie, I’ll call you cake. It’s up to you. Now, remove the implement from my neck before I snap it.”

Sathinar stepped back and drew his Shadar Logoth dagger. He moved clumsily through the forms, turning Kissing the Adder into Bitten by an Adder, and changing Boar Charging down the Mountains into the Drunken Zebra. Lone Wolf was particularly miffed about that. That was his patented move.

Sathinar finished his own mutated version of the forms, and then held the dagger out in front of him. Lone Wolf drew his sword and in one swift flick of the wrist, with no particular form involved, he knocked Sathinar’s dagger from his hand. He shifted position and with two swift strokes, carved an L into Sathinar’s tunic.

Sathinar stepped back, and tripped over his own feet. he got up quickly.

“You…. You… dummy head! I’m gonna go tell Mommy on you! Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha.”

“You goof. When are you going to get it right? You have to drywash your hands when you’re laughing evilly. Either that or tilt your head back and open your mouth wide. Sheez. Don’t they teach you anything at the Fraternal Order of Madmen?”

“Drywash?”

“Yes, you know, when you rub your hands together? Like this.” He showed Sathinar.

“Oh, oh yeah. I forgot about that. They did teach us that. I forgot. And that was my favorite part, too. How could I forget that?”

“I don’t know. But why don’t you go practice? Me and Kathana have some business to take care of.”

Sathinar gave him a look, but Lone Wolf missed it. He was already headed back towards the Amyrlin’s Study.

Jona’tha came barging into the Amyrlin’s study out of breath. He was wearing a pair of bright yellow swim trunks, with fish on them and carrying a plush blue beach towel and rubbery ducky. ‘Did I miss it?” He panted. “I’m sorry I’m late, but I got lost in the broom closet again.”

“Miss what?” The Amyrlin asked.

“The swimsuit competition. I didn’t want to miss it.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to be a Warder.”

“I don’t really. I just thought it would be neat…”

“Well, I sent them down to the Green’s Quarters. Maybe you can catch up with them.”

“Oh goody! Maybe I’ll get to talk to Alanna.”

“Yeah, maybe. Shouldn’t you be going now?” Kathana asked pointedly.

“Well…You don’t have to get all huffy about it, you know…”

“Just go.”

“Fine.” He pouted and left.

Lone Wolf returned to the Amyrlin’s Study, munching on a sandwich he had obtained from a scullery maid. Kathana looked at it. “What is that?”

“This?” Lone Wolf indicated the sandwich in his hands. “This is a beef ‘n cheddar. It is an absolutely delicious sandwich and no, you can’t have any of it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.” He licked his fingers where some cheese had dripped. Kathana watched hungrily. He took another bite, and then nearly choked on it as the door to the Study banged open.

Ladon strode in. “Bond me!”

“Not now!”

“Please? Or I’ll use my Jedi powers of persuasion on you!”

“No!”

“You are not a good Amyrlin! A mop could be a better Amyrlin than you!” Lone Wolf coughed up the chunk of beef he had in his throat. No one noticed.

“How dare you say that to me? I am an Amyrlin to make thrones tremble!”

“With laughter!”

“They are laughing with me!”

“Hey, if you’re so great, answer a question for me. If it’s 3 PM in Holland, what time is it in California?” Lone Wolf opened his mouth to reply-

“Shut up!” The Amyrlin said.

“Okay, how do you spell statue?” Lone Wolf again opened his mouth.

“Leave me alone!”

“Raise your right hand, Mother.”

“I’m not going to.”

“Is it because you don’t know which one it is?” he said gleefully pressing his advantage. “What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?”

Kathana started to yell, then reconsidered. “African or European?”

“Oh, well…uhhh…”

“Never mind, just get out before I have you stripped by Wolfie here and thrown into the Reds’ Quarters.” Ladon grinned rather nastily.

“Would you really?”

“No! Get out of here!” Ladon got out. Kathana hoped not to see him again. Lone Wolf took another bite of his sandwich. “Will you at least chew with your mouth closed?” The Amyrlin asked.

“Oh, o’m thorry, heore. Let meeh thwallow first…” Little bits of beef and bread went flying everywhere. He choked down the beef, and then spoke again. “Sorry. Won’t happen again Mother.”

“See that it doesn’t.” Kathana said, still looking longingly at the sandwich. Lone Wolf didn’t notice. He started to hum.

“Now what are you doing?”

“Humming.”

“I can see that. Should I call you Lone Hummingbird from now on?”

Lone Wolf nearly choked again, but held his food with his tongue. “No. That’s not my name. I’m Lone Wolf. Not Hummingbird.”

The Amyrlin rolled her eyes. Lone Wolf started humming again.

“What are you humming?”

“Hmmm?” He swallowed another bite of his sandwich. “Oh, it’s called ‘Secret Smile’.”

Nobody knows it, but you’ve got a secret smile
And you use it only for me
Nobody knows it, but you’ve got a secret smile
And you use it only for me
So use it, and prove it,
Remove this Whirlwind of sadness
I’m losing, and Bluesing,
But you can save me from madness.

A man in a bright yellow coat and red breeches burst in and gave Lone Wolf a big hug. “Oh thank you, sir!!! You found the Song!!!”

The Tinker gave Lone Wolf another hug, then attempted to lean in for a kiss.

“Ewwww!! Get away from me!” Chissa’s Warder pushed the salivating Tinker off of him.

“Aram, get away from Lone Wolf this instant. Now, I want you to take your little song and get out of here.” Kathana was using her most Amyrlinish voice.

“Oh alright.” He pouted. “Hey! Can I be your Warder?”

The Amyrlin threw a paper weight at him, but missed.

The door to the Amyrlin’s study banged open again. Lone Wolf started choking again. Kathana winced, then realized it was only Lanfir and Ciara.

“Hi Mommy!” Ciara giggled. “Me and Lanfir had the greatest idea and we wanted to know what you thought.”

“Alright…What do you two want?”

Lone Wolf continued to choke.

“Well, we thought we could have a White Tower slumber party! We could all sleep in the main Hall and it would be so much fun.”

Lanfir nodded in agreement. “Ciara told me we could have pillow fights and give our Warders make-overs. I haven’t had a pillow fight since I was a novice, Mother. Please?”

“Yeah, please can we have a slumber party? Morgan says she knows a recipe for mint s’mores. We can eat them with our mint tea and chocolate pudding.” Ciara said in a wheedling tone.

Lone Wolf’s face was turning blue.

“Please, please please, Mother?”

“With cream and sugar on top?”

“And a cherry?”

“And choccolate sprinkles?”

“And those little silvery balls that look like buck shot?”

“And chocolate syrup, Lanfir. Don’t forget the chocolate syrup.”

“Yes, of course. Will you agree if we put chocolate syrup on it, Mother?”

“Well…” The Amyrlin hesitated. “I guess so…As long as you girls don’t stay up too late and make to much noise. And everyone has to be home by ten tomorrow. I’m having the Saldaen Ambassador over and I don’t want him having to climb over a bunch of giggling Aes Sedai when he comes.” She looked down at Lone Wolf and channeled a flow of air. He coughed and spat out a large plastic Serpent Ring.

“Of course, Mother.” They chorused, nodding. The two Green sisters scuttled out the door, whispering.

“I think Darksmoon would look perfect with a pink bow in his hair…”

Kathana looked down at Lone Wolf and the ring. “Where did you get that?”

He coughed again, and help up the ring. “Secret prize, I guess. Those goofy Arby’s people. Never know what you’re gonna get. Just like a box of chocolates.”

The door banged open again and in came a group of big burly men with rather hairy legs.

“What are you wearing?” The Amyrlin asked incredulously. The same band of Warders as before sashayed into her office clad only in some very filmy evening gowns.

“Don’t you like it, Mother?” Jon’atha twirled for her benefit. “I was going to get a blue one, but Alanna told me to go with green.”

“Alanna helped you with this?”

“Yup!” He nodded enthusiastically. “While she had her afternoon snack.”

“Snack?”

“Yeah, she is a very healthy eater. Do you know that she always has a big platter of grapes every afternoon for a snack?”

“Oh no.” whispered Kathana. “She didn’t.”

“But the platter is too heavy for her.” He continued on blithely. “So we have to help a bit.”

“Alright! I’ve heard enough!” she interrupted. “You all wore filmy dresses and fed her grapes and then she sent you in here to have an evening gown competition for me. I get it.”

“Wow, Mother! You are smart. How did you guess all that?”

“I’m writing this bloody story, aren’t I? It’s about time I started peeking ahead. Now, the next person to walk through that door will be…”

Incognito strode through the partially open doorway. “Mother, I have a few quibbles on the accuracy of your story.” He pulled out thick scroll and began reading out loud. “Number one. Aes Sedai should not have refrigerators in their quarters. Number two. Fruit snacks, pudding cups, and s’mores are not foods endorsed by Robert Jordan. As you can tell by the complete lack of junk food in Randland, RJ is a health nut. Therefore, Amyrlins should snack on healthy fruits and vegetables.”

“Like grapes?” Interrupted one of the Warders, guilelessly.

“Yes, like grapes.” Snapped the mysterious man. “Now, to continue…”

“Um…While I’m sure this is all really good and all, I really don’t care. My co-author and me aren’t going to take those parts out. Someone as clever as you must have known that. Why did you even try?”

“Well…See…I…I …I want to be your Warder too!” he yelled. “This was the only thing I could think of to get in here.”

The Amyrlin regarded him and the other wannabes crowding her desk. She drew a deep, calming breath then yelled, “Next!”

Once again, the door to the Amyrlin’s study banged open. “Hiya Seat. Meet your new Warder.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Sathy. I’m not bonding you.”

“Don’t call me that! You know I hate it.”

“If you call me cookie, I’ll call you cake.” The Amyrlin paused. “Hmmm… I think I’m hungry again.” She reached down into her desk drawers and began rummaging around for food. “Yum! Fruit snacks! I love these things…” She ripped open the little plastic package and began munching gleefully. “So anyways.” She said around a full mouth, “I’m not going to bond you. You tried to kidnap me, you know.” She swallowed. “Want some?”

He shook his head, “No, not me, you silly Seat. Him.” He pointed out into the foyer, where an older man was working the sword-forms.

“Him?”

“Yeah, him.”

“What’s his name?”

“Asha’man.” She waited for him to finish. “No, just Asha’man.”

“Ah, okay.”

“So, what about it? Are you going to bond him or not?”

“I don’t know. I’m thinking of giving up on the whole Warder thing. These interviews are taking up a lot of time and I need to start writing my revenge story with Lone Wolf.”

Saths looked over at Lone Wolf. Seat was writing a story with Wolfie-boy? Maybe there was something to those rumors after all… He shook himself mentally. I have to get her bonded to Asha, before she gets into trouble again. He thought, conveniently forgetting that he was the one who kidnapped her.

Quick as a viper, he leaned over the desk and yanked her Great Serpent ring off.

“Hey! You give that back!”

“Not until you bond Asha! Mwahahaha!! You’re mine now, Seat!”

“Hey, you’ve been practicing that evil laugh, haven’t you?”

“Well, yes.” He said modestly. “I have, just a bit.”

Kathana nodded, “Yeah, but it’s more from the diaphragm. You can’t just say ‘Mwahahaha’. It’s MWA HA HA HA.” She demonstrated. “Do you hear the difference?” he nodded. Yet another thing the Fraternal Order of Madmen had neglected to mention to him. He was going to write them a VERY strongly worded note. “Okay, now you try.”

“MWAHAHAHA!!!”

“Use the diaphragm, Sathy.”

“And don’t forget to drywash.” Lone Wolf added.

“MWA HAH HA HA HA!!!”

“Very good. Now may I have my ring back?”

“No! MWA HA HA HA!!!!” He put her ring in his mouth and began chewing on it. “It’s almost as good as chocolate pudding.”

The Amyrlin sighed. It was going to be one of those conversations again. “What do I have to do to get it back?”

“You must bond Asha! MWA HA HA HA!!!!!!”

“Fine, bring him in here and I’ll consider it.”

Sathinar rubbed his hands together and cackled with mad glee. “Asha! Get in here!”

Kathana rolled her eyes. “So, why would you be a good Warder for me?”

“Well, Mother. I promise I won’t try to baby-sit you or get in your way too much. Also, I won’t allow any disrespect to you.”

“Are you bonded to anyone else?”

Asha’man was shocked. “Of course not, Mother. That’s why I want to be your Warder.”

“You don’t channel, do you?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Can you actually use that sword there?”

“Of course, Mother. Would you like me to demonstrate the sword-forms?”

“Maybe in a bit. Can you cook?”

“Yeah…”

“What’s your specialty?”

“Well…Chicken caccitore…Chocolate pudding…”

“I’m sold. You’re in.”

“Really, Mother? You mean it?”

“Yeah. Besides, maybe it will get rid of all the Warder wannabes who’ve been tramping through here all day.” She looked at Sathinar. “Okay, give me back my ring.”

Saths looked uncomfortable. “Um…”

“C’mon, spit it out. You had it just a minute ago. Where is it?” The Amyrlin held her palm out to him.

“Well…I…um…sorta…”

Kathana gave him the Aes Sedai Stare™.

“I swallowed it…” He finished weakly.

“You swallowed my ring?”

“Only a little bit.”

The Amyrlin looked at her new Warder. “You know, Asha, now might be a very good time to demonstrate some of those sword forms you were telling me about.”

Asha’man drew his sword with a steely hiss and a grin. “You know, Mother, I was thinking that very same thing.”

Sathinar screamed and ran out of the room, followed by Asha yelling, “Come back here! I want to try that Drunken Zebra move.”

“Okay.” Said the Amyrlin, turning to her erstwhile scribe. “Now that’s done, we can finish the story.”

“But I thought we were going to get revenge on Phoenix for what he made you do.”

“Well, I thought about that. Phoenix has to read our story, right? I think that’s punishment enough for him.”

“Yeah…I guess so. I feel really sorry for anyone who has to read this.”

“Yup. So what did you and Chissa come up with for me?”

“Oh. We decided that it was the chicken, then the egg, then the sock.”

“Oh really, I would’ve thought it was the other way…”

Rumours spread across the land. Some said the Tower had been taken by an army of drag queens and had been rent in feathers and stuffing. No, it was chocolate pudding and ice cream sundaes. The Amyrlin had bonded a new Warder. The Amyrlin had bonded all the Warders. The Amyrlin had bonded an accordian. The Dragon Reborn had been seen giggling like a school girl and wearing pigtails. No, he wasn’t that crazy yet. Yes, he was. No, he isn’t. I say he is. I say he isn’t. Look, we can argue later, I’m trying to finish here. Oh, alright. There was one thing all the stories agreed on though. That was one F***ed up Amyrlin.

“And lo and behold! The Wheel of Time did go round and round,

–From a much disputed translation of The Karaethon Cycle
By Javanne n’ha Patricia
Comii’ Letze of Thendarra

THE END
(finally!)

Most of us have played the WoT game, but have you ever played with JoeGaidin. The Amyrlin got the game for Xmas so this is what we all might see in future games….

Three players have entered the arena: [DMW] JoeGaidin, [DMWT] The Amyrlin Seat or Kathana, [DMWT] Lasir Sedai. Each player is running around picking up their initial te’angreals.

[DMWT] The Amyrlin is seen chasing [DMWT] Lasir Sedai, trying desperately to kill her.

[DMWT] The Amyrlin: “Lasir Sedai! You just stop moving!!”

[DMWT] Lasir Sedai: “But Mother, I-”
“*BAMPH*”

[DMW]JoeGaidin has killed [DMWT]The Amyrlin

*to save time I’ll just refer to the players without the [DMwhatever]*

The Amyrlin: “Damnit Joe! You’re my Warder! You’re supposed to help me! Not kill me!”

JoeGaidin: “Sorry, I thought you were Lasir.”

Lasir Sedai: “HEY!!”

Segurant has just entered the game.
JoeGaidin has killed Segurant.

Segurant: “Nice to see you again, Joe!”
JoeGaidin: “Don’t mention it.”

Segurant has killed JoeGaidin.
JoeGaidin: “That was not nice.”
Segurant: “Sorry. I did not know you were typing. I was wonder why you were *The Amyrlin has killed Segurant* typing…HEY!

The Amyrlin: “Sorry, hun.”

Lasir Sedai has killed The Amyrlin
Lasir Sedai: “I guess that makes me the new Amyrlin….hehehe.*JoeGaidin has killed Lasir Sedai.* I guess not.”

JoeGaidin has killed Segurant
JoeGaidin has killed Lasir Sedai
JoeGaidin has killed The Amyrlin
JoeGaidin has killed The Amyrlin
JoeGaidin has killed Segurant
JoeGaidin has killed The Amyrlin

*New Map*

JoeGaidin has killed Segurant
JoeGaidin has killed The Amyrlin
JoeGaidin has killed Lasir Sedai
JoeGaidin has killed Lasir Sedai
Segurant has killed The Amyrlin
Segurant has killed Lasir Sedai
JoeGaidin has killed Segurant
Lasir Sedai has killed Segurant
JoeGaidin has killed Segurant
JoeGaidin has killed The Amyrlin
JoeGaidin has killed Lasir Sedai

Segurant: “EVERYONE STOP! *looks at the score* Can anyone kill Joe please!”*whap* The Amyrlin has killed Segurant “HEY! Not me Joe!”

The Amyrlin killed by Segurant.
The Amyrlin: “Stop tha-”
The Amyrlin killed by LasirSedai.
Lasir Sedai weaves herself from the pattern.

Lasir Sedai: “Brb, I need to check my email.”
JoeGaidin: “Okay.”
Segurant: “K”
Lasir Sedai is killed by The Amyrlin

JoeGaidin: “That was not nice, Kat.” *WHAP*
JoeGaidin is killed by the Amyrlin
JoeGaidin: “HEY!!!!”

The Amyrlin: “Well both of you were standing still. ”

The Amyrlin is killed by Segurant

Suffice it to say this goes on for most of the night with Joe winning all the maps. Me and Lasir will fight it out for second, and ,well, The Amyrlin will be in a corner eating her pudding.

Segurant is killed by the Amyrlin….

Segurant: “HEY I was typing this silly”
The Amyrlin: “Oh sorry, BTW, this sucks”
Segurant: “Everyone is a critic!”

Gryndyl stood on the steps of the imperial palace at Arafel, the city had fallen to the shadow bring the Nation with it. Gryndyl frowned, there had been no challenge in taking this land, which had for centuries stood against the blight, but now, with a swift attack and a force of less than 30,000 trollocs, the land had succumbed to the shadow. Gryndyl turned and shadowwalked from the Palace into Demandred’s private chambers.
Looking around, Gryndyl was surprised to see a poet reading his badly written staccato lines while the Nae’blis watched.
“It’s like evil…dig…evil…yeah….” the poet ended his verse and Demandred, death as he was sometimes known, began to snap in a mellow appreciation of the poet’s art.
Gryndyl coughed softly and the Nae’blis turned and greeted his humble servant, “Hey Gryn… What’s the haps cat? Sit and dig on this crazy speaker that I found.” Dem noticed the concern on the part of the fade. “Why the long face, cat, who gots you in downsville daddy-O?
“Actually,” Gryndyl began as he slowly took his seat. “It’s this Arafel thing. I’m bummed. I lead an army of trollocs out of the blight and into the heart of the city and… nothing. Not a word from the outside, no armies trying to stop us, no Aes Sedai, no wolf kin, nothing, it was all too easy.”
The lord Demandred thought for a minute before looking at the fade and uttering his wisdom. “Bummer man…Uncool in the extreme even.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Gryndyl said, “So, I was thinking, this was so easy, and I need a challenge, Do you mind if I just take over the rest of the world, see if anyone notices?”
“I would like to say yes my eyeless friend…I really would…but I can’t, unless…Have you cleared this with the Dark One?”
“No, he won’t let us talk to him unless he talks to one of us first.”
“How about the others, the rulemakers of this land?”
“Actually, no…But I did tell Aldazar, and he said it would be fine, so I think there should be no problem, he seems to be the final word in these parts.”
“Well, if he says it’s ok, then it must be, alright hep cat, get gonesville, let me know how it goes.” With that Demandred turned around and shouted for his poet to begin again.
The first strains of the Poem rang in Gryndyl’s ears as he left the chamber.
———————————————–
Gryndyl’s first stop was Illian, he entered the palace through a side door and ran the royalty out of the city. He then declared the land as the Dark One’s and left for his next target, Tear.
Walking through the front gates of the Stone. Gryndyl expected some form of resistance, from the Aiel, instead he walked by several who had been talking about honor and maidens. None of them noticed as he passed except the one that was called Jenner, he looked up and waved, “Nice kid,” thought Gryndyl as he passed.
Gryndyl entered the main chamber and tripped over a sword that some fool had stuck in the middle of the floor, Gryndyl cursed as plucked the sword out of the ground and tossed it away in anger. He saw several Aes Sedai sneaking out of a door, they were holding a large container of chocolate pudding between them, they stopped as they saw the fade and hid the stolen container behind them. “What,” one of them said, “we have nothing, be on your way.”
“and don’t tell Mother; she might get mad.” the other piped in. then both of them broke into a run down the hall.
Gryndyl shook his head as he headed down the hallway. He got to an ornately carved door at the end of the hall, and came face to face with the Dragon Reborn himself as well as the Amyrlin seat.
Phoenix jumped to his feet as he set eyes on the Fade. “Away from here, foul Shadowspawn!” he roared as he channeled a sword of fire and strode to confront his new enemy.
Gryndyl looked at him casually and said, “Before you kill me, I thought your guest might be interested to know that I saw two of her minions leaving her room with a vat of pudd…” Gryndyl’s words were cut off as Kathana knocked him over and ran out of the room shouting. “Dear god, not the pudding anything but the pudding!”
Jarron looked at the fade and seethed. “You may have gotten rid of her but I shall kill you, a lot!” he began to advance once again on the Fade, the sword glowing with fire.
“Ok,well before I die by that rather large sword, I was told by an Ogier that I met, that you might want to know that some girl named Jhaenara is being chased by a horde of ovulating Greens and that you may want to help her.” The Sword disappeared in a flash and Jarron looked at the Fade for an instant before running out of the room and dashing through a Power-made gateway shouting “I’m coming, girl! Hold on, it’ll be ok, just hold on!” And like that, Gryndyl was alone in Tear.
———————————————–
With Tear behind him, the rest of the Nations fell, one by one they all came under the shadow. Gryndyl finally came to the last bastion of the Light, Tar Valon.
Gryndyl walked into the Novice quarters and posted a sign on the entrance door. The sign read simply, “Naked Warder practice.” The sign was barely up before he heard the first rumbling from down the hall and then he saw them, a sea of white filled the wide hallway. Gryndyl had only a second to escape before he was trampled by a sea of girls looking for a glimpse of the fabled warder flesh.
Gryndyl walked down the now empty hall of the novice’s quarters, shaking his head at the young girls’ reaction, ‘Times must be tougher than I thought here’ he mused to himself as he came to the door of the Accepted quarters.
He had opened the door and found a group of Accepted women talking and whining about how with all of the chores that the rest of the Aes Sedai have just given them, that they would never get to watch and ogle the Warders the way that they should. Gryndyl listened for only an instant before piping up, “You should strike.” he told the nearest girl.
She looked up at the Fade with a confused expression, “Strike?”
“Yes, strike. You should stop working until you see naked warder flesh like the Novices just got to do. It’s the only proper thing.”
The look of confusion was replaced with a look of sheer anger. “The Novices what? Alright girls, we strike!” The other girls in the hall raised their voices in agreement. Gryndyl began handing them all signs stating ‘No Work Till We get a Peek!’ The Accepted girls marched out of the hall into the warders practice ground holding their signs and singing protest songs. Gryndyl watched them with an amused smile on his face. “Women,” he muttered to himself. Gryndyl noticed a door was closed in the Hall. He crept over to it and slowly opened it. He quietly peered in and saw a young yet white haired Accepted reading her copy of ‘Finer Warders Monthly’. He had heard of this girl. She was called Lasir and she was alone. He crept up behind her silently until he had his mouth at her ear, then he spoke. “It can’t rain all the time!!!” He watched in glee as she winced in agony. “Boo, gotcha!!” he said as she curled up into a ball muttering, “It won’t stop….aauugghhh!” Gryndyl laughed to himself as he left her room.
All that remained were the Aes Sedai, but luckily Gryndyl had asked his Ogier contact about this too. He had placed mint tea in cups down the back entrance to the hall and out of the city. He opened the doors to the Aes Sedai quarters and stopped at the sight that he beheld. A line of ageless faced women were on their knees sipping the tea and following the trail out of the cups out of the city. Gryndyl was speechless, he just stared as the female procession crawled by his feet.
‘Odd, just odd,’ he thought.
He walked the halls of the Tower for a while and then he claimed it too, for the shadow and sighed at the conclusion of his quest.
———————————————–
Demandred looked up from his desk and his cup of tea to see Gryndyl’s scarred face before him.
“It is done master, the world is ours, what do you want me to do now?”
Dem looked at the Fade, pondering this revelation. “The whole world, all of it?” he asked not believing what he had just heard.
“Yes, all of it. No one seemed to notice, I just did it.”
Demandred looked at his Tea, searching for the answer to what had just happened. He slowly looked up and spoke. “So ya wanna play stones then?”

End
OOC: Gotcha!
all thanks to Joram, my idea man for the parts I got stuck on. thanks.

-Gryndyl-
assistant to the profesional evil guy
conqurer of the world
evil

So here is mine. I wrote it…more than a year ago…not quite two…for a teacher who wanted us to write a humourous story taking place in a book we’ve read (provoking plagarism?). And, you guessed it, she entirely forgot about it by the time I had it finished. If only teachers would regularly do that with homework **sighs**. But to shorten an otherwise long story, it didn’t get read by anyone. That is probably the best thing that could ever happen to it, but since we now have a silly stories board…here is my torment. I’m delivering it in segments called ‘Seals’, and it is decidedly an insane, strange story. So, read at your own risk…..

**The Day the Seals Were Re-Sealed**

Seal One: the Earth Shakes

The sun shown red upon the Blasted Lands, highlighting the dismal clouds crowding around the slopes of Shayol Ghul. The jumara frolicked across the waste, playfully chasing down- and eating- whatever they came across. The forgers were at work, hammering away. A Myrddraal leaned idly against the wall of the forge, studying the way the light slid off the surface of a bit of scrapmetal as he waited for his new weapon. Every so often he would stop to smile unpleasantly at the sole female prisoner, who cowered within her restraints.

All in all, it was a calm, peaceful day in the Blight. There was only one thing besides the Last Battle that could disrupt the idyllic mood….

‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN – THEY FOUND A WAY TO KEEP THE SEALS SEALED?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’ Boomed a voice, powerful, fearsome, majestic.. and very angry.

The ground rumbled. It trembled. It Heaved. Boulders bounced like pebbles scattered by a careless foot, small rifts split the earth as new rock surfaced and old was pulled down into deep crevices. A miniature plateau of rock erupted to the surface, sending a forger tumbling headfirst into the lifeless black stream that it had been bending over. The Myrddraal jerked the woman away from the forge just before the wall collapsed, then cut loose a stream of blasphemous profanities as the ground bucked under him. Deciding it wasn’t exactly prudent to hang around any longer, he seized a shadow and fled, leaving woman, weapon, and world to their fates.

Seal Two: Shaidar Haran Loses His Footing

The ground bucked again, then was still. Shaidar Haran regained his footing, blood trickling down the side of his eyeless face. “Exactly that, Great Lord. ”

‘WHEN WAS THIS FOUND OUT?’

“Yesterday, Great Lord. As I have difficulties traveling outside the area designated by you, I cannot gather information as quickly as needed.” Oops. Shaidar Haran winced inwardly. Too soon to press that.

‘ARE YOU SAYING THAT I AM LESS THAN OMNIPOTENT?’ The terrain bounced once more, causing the tall Myrddraal to stumble. He heard a woman’s scream in the near distance, quickly cut off.

“No, no, of course not.” Shaidar Haran hastened to assure his Lord, conveniently forgetting both his master’s heavy reliance on his followers and the fact that he was bound in a prison outside the bounds of time. ‘I was merely saying that I was hard pressed to meet requirements while within the boundary you lined out for me. Although I am quite sure you have a reason for that, Great Lord.” He added, stepping away from the edge of the Pit of Doom. If his Lord lost his temper again, he didn’t want to be within close vicinity of him.

The Dark One did not reply immediately. Shaidar Haran cocked his head, wondering if his lord had decided to turn his back on him. Then the voice spoke; ‘I NEED SOMEONE TO GO OUT AND FIND A WAY TO FIX THE SEALS. GET GOING, YOU INCOMPETENT BUFFOON. I’M PUTTING YOU IN CHARGE OF THIS.’

Breathing a sigh of relief, Shaidar Haran turned and cut a rather hasty exit.

Stepping outside, he picked his way around the new terrain, shaking his head in silent disapproval when he saw the ruins that were all that remained of the forge. He had always thought that thing should have been constructed better. Not his problem. He had free range of the world! The ploy had worked.

A Draghkar landed a respectful distance away from him, waiting patiently. If it noticed a change in the land, it gave no sign of it. Of course, it may very well not have noticed the difference. Draghkar were only a step higher than Trollocs on Shaidar Haran’s intelligence scale. Useless, expendable bags of flesh.

“What is it?” Shaidar Haran asked after making the Draghkar wait for a long moment.

“Important news, Great Master.” The Draghkar whispered as it fell to its knees, head bowed and wings folded as it groveled. At least Draghkar knew they were expendable. Pulling a small leather tube from its belt, it proffered it to Shaidar Haran, hands above head in a pose presented the message above its own head.

Shaidar Haran accepted the proffered case and removed the lid, sliding a slender scroll out of it and unrolling it in the same, fluid movement. The Draghkar did not move. Shaidar Haran read. The script was small and easily legible, but written as if in haste. It did not start with an honorary recognition, but launched straight into the point.

It is poor news indeed, my friend. The maid found fish paste quite effective in sealing the cage, but because of it, the bird cannot get out, as the children had hoped. The weather seems to be freshening up, but it is getting a bit too cold for my taste. We have a new mother living with us, her and the returned sisters. The house is getting rather crowded. If you would but send some help, we would be most grateful. The lioness has control of the pride, back in the hills of Andor, but she might bend to the lion yet, if she does not make him bend to her.

Shaidar Haran frowned. Why could Aes Sedai not just write it plain out, instead of making a jumbled mess out of it? The lioness has control of the pride…That meant that the Daughter Heir Elayne had taken control of Andor, and that her moves in regard to the Dragon Reborn were yet unknown. Old news. The weather was returning to normal. As if he hadn’t noticed that already. The house was getting rather crowded… The Salidar Aes Sedai had returned to the Tower, the Black Ajah wanted some outside aid to decrease their numbers. It might work if he sent that Gholem, but that would also boost the guard up to the tip of Shayol Ghul. The new mother was the new Amyrlin, Egwene al’Vere. Also old. The maid found the fish paste quite effective in sealing the cage…the bird cannot get out…. Shaidar Haran groaned. The Draghkar backed away.

They HAD found a way to seal the Seals. Oh blood and bloody flaming ashes burn him to ash. No wonder the Great Lord had not seen through his falsehood. It was true. The Light burn him to ash. But how? Fish paste, it said. He was going to kill that Sanche woman. Meddling with things that didn’t concern her. Why hadn’t she just stayed stilled like most decent Aes Sedai?

Shaidar Haran spun around and punched a fresh outcropping of rock. Damn! This was going to cause trouble. He looked the direction of the Draghkar. “Fly.” He grated. “Pass the news to Moridin, and report to him. He will tell you what to do next.” Likely he’d just kill the thing in one of his rages. The Draghkar cringed and backed away, whispering assurances. It took off the moment he looked away.

Shaidar Haran shredded the message in his hands. Would nothing work out? The Draghkar was flying straight south. He needed to think. Somewhere peaceful, he thought as he seized a shadow. Somewhere where I won’t be bothered by any Light-cursed messengers.

Seal Three: An Attempt at Rest

When Shaidar Haran found himself sitting beneath a tree in what appeared to be an abandoned Ogier stedding, he realized that he should have specified a little more in what kind of ‘peaceful place’ he had wanted. Still, it was quiet, and he didn’t see any terrified Draghkar bearing bad news. Settling back against the trunk of the tree behind him, he folded his arms behind his head fully intending to sleep.

Haha. He should have known better. The Hand of the Shadow, be able to steal a few minutes of peaceful rest in an Ogier grove without being bombarded by all sorts of strange occurrences? He really should have known better.

Of course, he did get a couple of moments to rest. It wasn’t as if he was ta’veren or anything- he was just the Hand of the Shadow. But then again, it wasn’t as if he was unimportant enough for the remainder of the day to pass uneventfully. Still, he did get a couple minutes of rest.

In fact, he got nearly a full hour’s worth of rest. To be exact, he got exactly fifty-nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds worth of rest. So- this seems awfully repetitive- he got three thousand, six hundred seconds worth of rest, or fifty-nine and fifty-nine sixtieths minutes of rest, depending on how you calculate. A second more of uninterrupted rest, and he would have had a full hour’s worth of rest, and the events that passed would not have happened at the time they happened. Philosophy is fascinating, don’t you agree?

But to get on with the point, fifty-nine minutes and the same number of seconds later, the sound of boots crashing through the underbrush got Shaidar Haran to his feet and behind the tree just in time to see a young Ogier and his companion, a younger man in a black coat, walk past the spot of ground he had vacated but moments before.

The Ogier was speaking. “Aren’t you glad the Aes Sedai let us come here, Karldin? For a moment I thought they wouldn’t, the way Lelaine Aes Sedai kept glaring at us. But they did. The Waygate should be over this way, I think. It’s the last one, too. I’ll be able to get back to Rand and writing my book soon. Or maybe I’ll find Mat. Do you know Mat, Karldin? You would like him, I think.”

“I’m sure.” The man named Karldin grumbled. “Can we hurry, Loial? I just want to ward the Waygate and go.”

Asha’man. Shaidar Haran pulled back against the tree and listened as they walked off. They were warding the Waygates, too. Clenching his hand into a fist, Shaidar Haran punched the tree in frustration. Burn them! Would nothing go right?

Loial and Karldin were out of hearing range. Shaidar Haran stood, relieved that he could get back to his nap.

There was a rustle of leaves. Shaidar Haran stepped back behind the tree, watching as a tall, copper-skinned Domani woman with a green shawl around her shoulders and a serpent ring on her left hand entered the small clearing. A broad-shouldered, stocky man joined her a sixtieth of a second later. The Aes Sedai turned towards him, standing up on toe-tips to whisper something into the man’s ear. Then she kissed him.

This went on for some time. Shaidar Haran shook his head and moved off a bit, guessing precognitively what was coming next. It shouldn’t be too hard to find another clearing.

Three women, the plain cut of their dresses and the books in their hands marking their Ajah as obviously as their brown shawls, strolled past, pausing every so often to examine an insect or leaf that caught their eye. It wouldn’t have surprised Shaidar Haran if one of them thought him a new species of beetle and called the rest over to help identify him. The Great Lord burn him, he had wanted PEACE! Was everyone swarming into the forest today?

Shaidar Haran continued to slink along in the shadows, stopping every now and then as some new person or people strolled into view. Cooks, carpenters, Tinkers, tanners, butchers, bakers and candlestick makers, they all seemed to have a reason to be wandering among the trees. There had been a Whitecloak and an Aes Sedai, arm in arm, strolling along a narrow path! At that, Shaidar Haran began to wonder whether he was going insane.

When a dish and a spoon ran hand down the path that the Aes Sedai and her Whitecloak companion had just vacated, followed up by a laughing dog and a cat playing the fiddle, Shaidar Haran just groaned and walked over to the nearest shadow. This was what stress did to you. It wallowed around in your mind and muddled your thinking. He’d be seeing unicorns, next. What he needed was a nice, long, relaxing trip on some tropical island. The Land of Madmen, perhaps, or the Bahamas. That would be the thing.

He was just about to leave, to go back to the Blight and arrange for that island retreat, when a Dragon stepped into the clearing. The Dragon Reborn, to be exact. Shaidar Haran bit back a slightly hysterical desire to laugh. This was just getting worse and worse.

Stepping out of sight, Shaidar Haran watched as the figment of his imagination (that was what he thought it was) wandered around the area, peeking under bushes in the most peculiar manner. Shaidar Haran fought to keep a calm façade. Normally, upon seeing the Dragon Reborn, he would have leapt at him and tried to put an end to the Last Battle before it began, but jumping at a figment of his imagination was a bit foolish seeming. Shifting his weight to his right foot, he leaned back against the tree. A stick crackled.

“Who’s there?” Demanded the Dragon Reborn. His voice was cold, and Shaidar Haran realized that he had attempted to draw saidin, and had only succeeded catching the Void. That was what happened when you tried to channel in an Ogier stedding or grove. Maybe he was real.

Ducking down behind the tree, Shaidar Haran attempted to disguise his voice. “The gardener.” He lied. His voice crackled in a very inhuman fashion. “Who are you?”

“The Dragon Reborn.” Came the haughty voice, followed by a considerably less arrogant one. “But don’t tell anyone. Do you know where the key is?”

“Key?” asked Shaidar Haran, genuinely puzzled.

“The one to the back door. I need to see Elayne.”

Wasn’t Elayne in Andor? “I don’t know where the key is.” He replied.

‘You sure?” Rand al’Thor, the Dragon Reborn, the Lord of Morning, the Prince of Dawn, and king of troublemakers, asked. “Well, thanks anyway. I’ll keep looking. Oh, and please don’t tell Egwene that I’m still here. She really got mad when I tried to make the White Tower swear fealty to me.” He wandered off, still looking for the key.

Shaidar Haran stepped out from the shelter of the tree and the shadows that made him invisible. As he did so, his boot made contact with something hard and metallic. Looking down, he found that he had stepped on the key to the backdoor of the Tower. Picking it up, he examined it. An idea formed in his mind. Setting the key back down where Rand al’Thor couldn’t miss it, he seized a shadow and entered the White Tower

Seal Four: The White Tower

He skipped from shadow to shadow, avoiding everyone and trying to improve his fake voice. It still sounded hopelessly dry and crumbly- by human standards, anyway- but he could hopefully blame that on an old throat injury. His cloak hid his face well enough, but as for his height…I couldn’t help it that my mother was a Trolloc, Shaidar Haran thought wryly. Though I don’t think they will deem that a suitable excuse. No, Mother, being tall just seems to run in the family. I’m not Shadowspawn. I’m just a perfectly normal human. Shaidar Haran snorted. They wouldn’t believe that for an instant, anymore than they would believe that he was human. I am the Hand of the Shadow, Shaidar Haran told himself. I will think up something that they will believe. Haha.

Seizing hold of another shadow, Shaidar Haran made his entry into the Amyrlin’s study.

Egwene al’Vere, the Amyrlin Seat, looked up from the paperwork on her desk and gasped. “Shadowspawn.”

Siuan Sanche seized the One Power and wheeled around. “Where?”

Pointing, Egwene said, “There.” She, too, seized the Source.

Shaidar Haran, who had still been thinking on what he intended to say when he entered the room, and therefore hadn’t heard a word that they had said, turned around to better see what she was pointing at. ‘Where?”

“Myrddraal!” Egwene gasped, even louder.

Shaidar Haran jerked around in the opposite direction. “Where is it?”

“You are!” Egwene shouted, sounding somewhat exasperated.

“Me?” Shaidar Haran looked down. “Oh, yes. I guess I am.” He agreed, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

“Yes, you are.” The present-day Amyrlin Seat and her former one said in unison. The two of them both began to weave something that smelled distinctly unpleasant and painful to his One Power sensitive nose.

“Well, don’t balefire me because of it.” Shaidar Haran returned hastily. “It’s not my fault.”

Egwene paused in her weave. “Why shouldn’t I?” She asked suspiciously.

“Well… I have important news.”

“Like what?” The Amyrlin Seat picked up in her weave where she had left off.

Shaidar Haran backed up. “I’m not telling until you until you stop channeling.” That thing was worse than balefire. Of course, he could just shield them, but that would put a complete end to any hopes at a civil discussion.

Siuan frowned, then turned to Egwene. “It just might be worth hearing him out,” She said. “We can always balefire him later.”

That was not very comforting, but the Amyrlin Seat did let her flows unravel as she released the Source. “Very well.” She sniffed. “Tell us what you know, Shadowspawn.”

Shaidar Haran looked about until he found a chair. Taking his cloak off and sitting down awkwardly -it was a very small chair- he addressed the Amyrlin Seat. “I have a name.” He said.

Egwene sniffed. It was a very direct sniff that made Shaidar Haran feel as if he were a youth again, and one that had gotten his armor very muddy and forgotten to scrub the blood off his shin-guards. ‘I could care less, and considering that you haven’t told me, you can’t possibly expect me to know it.” He had forgotten to feed the Trollocs, too, and his cloak needed mending.

“Shaidar Haran,” said Shaidar Haran.

“That’s not the Trolloc tongue.” Siuan cut in.

“No, it’s not. But that is my name.”

‘Are you sure?” Asked Egwene.

“Yes I’m sure.” Shaidar Haran returned.

“Positive? I mean, you seemed to be having an identity crisis a little bit back, and you’re a bit…. tall.”

‘You noticed.” Shaidar Haran replied dryly. “I am so glad.”

“Get on with it.” Siuan snapped impatiently.

“Not quite yet.” Shaidar Haran said. “I’m not just going to give you information. There’s a price.”

“I should have known.” The Sanche woman muttered. “I suppose you want us to swear fealty to the Dark One or something like that.”

“Not quite. We already have enough of you in our ranks, and the complete lack of any challenge would make the Last Battle a bit boring.”

“There isn’t going to be one.” Siuan crowed triumphantly. The Amyrlin Seat shot him a smug smile.

“But there will be.” Shaidar Haran commented. “You have all the Seals here, in the Tower. The Great Lord is not patient. If I can’t solve this relatively peacefully, he’ll send a Gholem or two to recover the Seals and bring them to Shayol Ghul.”

“A Gholem!” Exclaimed a muffled voice. Shaidar Haran turned just in time to see a short, attractive woman with dark hair. Behind her was a considerably taller, fairer-skinned woman with red-gold hair, who was garbed in an elegant dress of red and white. “What about a Gholem?”

Egwene smiled. “Where did you put Lan, Nynaeve?”

“On the practice ground, with the rest of the Warders.” She sniffed. “I finally got Myrelle talked into giving me his bond.”

The woman in the red and white dress sniffed. “You nearly made her wet herself, Nynaeve. You shouldn’t have been that harsh with the woman. She was just doing what Moiraine wanted…. What is that?!” She pointed at Shaidar Haran.

The Myrddraal rose smoothly to his feet. “I am Shaidar Haran.” He informed her, bowing politely but not deeply. “I admit that I had not expected to meet you here, Elayne Trakand.”

Swallowing, Elayne turned toward Egwene. “Pardon, Mother, but what are you doing with that…that…that Myrddraal in your study?”

“He says he has some information for us, for a price.” Egwene told her.

Nynaeve sniffed. “How can you believe a word it says, Egwene!” She exclaimed. It? “I would have thought you had better sense than that.”

“Yes, how? Mother.” A voice said from the doorway. It was the Domani Aes Sedai that Shaidar Haran had seen in the Ogier grove kissing the stocky man. She was wearing a remarkably thin, nearly completely transparent gown. She frowned at Shaidar Haran. “And why?”

“It says that if we do not remove the adhesive from the Seals immediately, the Dark One will become angry and send a Gholem to recover them.” IT, again? Shaidar Haran was insulted. He was NOT an It.

“Is that the truth?” Elayne asked.

“Very much so.” Shaidar Haran answered.

EVERYONE in the room turned towards him and sniffed as one. So much combined sniffing power made Shaidar Haran feel very small. It was as if the last sniff directed at him had rebounded some fifty times.

“Why is everyone up at arms?” Someone asked, entering the door and closing it behind her. “I could hear that last sniff as I came up the hall.” She took one glance at Shaidar Haran and whipped an arrow out of her quiver and onto her bow, aiming it dead at him.

Shaidar Haran swallowed, then very calmly used his power to unstring the bow. “Not necessary.” He said, hoping he sounded calm.

“This is Shaidar Haran.” Nynaeve said, sounding as if she was informing the woman about the drunkard who had lost his lunch on her carpet the day before.

“I can introduce myself.” He told her, and received another sniff.

“He’s the person you were all sniffing at?” Birgitte inquired, stepping forward to examine him closely. “I could almost pity him. Almost.” She stepped close enough that she actually seemed to loom above him. ‘The Hand of the Shadow, are you?”

“I am.” Shaidar Haran said with as much dignity as he could manage surrounded by five sniffing women and a heroine of the Horn looming over him.

Birgitte said, “I would have called you his backside.” And sniffed. Shaidar Haran shrunk a little in his chair. SIX sniffing women, and one a heroine of the Horn!

Suddenly the door banged open, and a tall, red-haired woman and her companion, a shorter, dark-haired one in breeches, entered. “Rand is waiting for you, Elayne.” Said the tall woman. The shorter one chimed in “It’s your turn.”

“Oh, goody.” Elayne skipped out the door. “Birgitte, you stay here and make sure the Myrddraal doesn’t do anything.” The two women who had just entered followed her out.

Egwene went red. “That woolhead, here? I told him not to come back.” Standing up, she ran to the door. “Take him back to the Palace with you, Elayne.” She yelled. “And make sure he doesn’t come back!”

Turning back to Shaidar Haran, she appeared all calm serenity once more. “Now what was it that you were going to tell us, Myrddraal?” She wove a warding against eavesdroppers around the room.

“That was part of it.” Shaidar Haran mumbled, pulling a bit farther back from a grinning Birgitte.

A hand suddenly touched his shoulder, and he looked up to see the Domani woman smiling at him. “You are kind of cute.” She murmured.

Startled, Shaidar Haran pulled away. He liked women as much as the next Myrddraal, but now was neither the time nor place for that. He also had a strong feeling that she was only trying to distract him to the point that he would say more than he had intended.

Siuan snorted, but said nothing. Egwene took up her seat behind her desk again. “What else?”

Shaidar Haran tried to collect his thoughts. It was growing increasingly hard to do so, as the Domani had begun to stroke his neck in a very familiar fashion. Whenever he tried to pull away, she would just laugh and redouble her efforts. After a few attempts at pulling away, he realized it was best if he just sat there and tried to ignore her. It was impossible, of course, but at least she no longer increased her efforts. Looking up, he found the other women gazing at him with varying degrees of amusement, from Egwene’s small smile to Birgitte’s outright laughter.

“I need some sort of agreement from you before I say anything.” He told them.

“Do you?” the Domani inquired. She slid her hand down past his armor and gambeson until it touched his bare shoulder. Shaidar Haran jumped and pulled away.

“Will you stop that?” He demanded. The Domani woman smiled and opened her mouth to reply, but it was another voice filled his head. ‘THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR PLEASANTRIES, MY HAND. HURRY BEFORE I DECIDE TO REPLACE YOU.’

“What was that?” Someone asked, and Shaidar Haran realized he was on his knees. His head hurt like fury. “My Lord is displeased.” He said, regaining his seat. “He wants action. Burn me, I should just leave you to the Gholem.” He really should, too. Nice instincts led people nowhere when you were a villain.

“You will not.” Birgitte said, more of a command than self-assurance.

“What is a Gholem, anyway?” Asked the Domani woman. Birgitte glanced over at the woman wide-eyed, apparently shocked that she did not know what a Gholem was, but the Domani truly was naïve of the depth of her question.

Egwene shook her head. “You do not want to know, Leane. Elayne spoke briefly of them to me in tel’aran’rhoid, and the little I know is more than enough.”

“I want to know.” Siuan said.

“A Gholem is a Gholem.” Shaidar Haran told her. He didn’t think he could put it into terms that these apparently one-track minded humans would understand.

“What do they do?” Siuan queried acridly.

Shaidar Haran winced. “I’m sure Birgette could explain it to your-” He could off when Birgitte shook her head vigorously. Okay, perhaps she couldn’t. Shaidar Haran could except that, however much he personally disliked the subject. Gholem were the only humanoid Shadowspawn alive that could best a Myrddraal in a fight, and he didn’t like the way they were always flaunting their immunity towards the One Power.

“Gholem were created during the Age of Legends by Ishar Morrad Chuain, to assassinate Aes Sedai. They are immune to the One Power, and-” He was cut off by Siuan’s exclamation of ‘Fishsticks!’

“How do they do that?” Leane demanded.

Shaidar Haran shrugged. ‘How would I know? I didn’t create them. Ask Ishar Morrad.”

“Ask who?”

“Aginor.” Shaidar Haran told them, a bit irritated. Humanity was quickly reaching the level of Draghkar on his intelligence scale.

Egwene rolled her eyes. “He’s dead.” She told him.

“And so was his companion, but thanks to my Lord, he’s now your companion.” Also thanks to some threatening on his own part, he might add.

“Who?” Egwene demanded, sitting up straighter.

“I’m not telling.” Shaidar Haran chuckled. “But I might tell you in exchange for one of the Seals being unsealed.”

“We’re doing this Seal by Seal now, are we?” Siuan asked wearily. “Why don’t we just get this over with?”

“Aha!” Exclaimed a voice from outside the door. “There’s the beetle!” Shaidar Haran spun around in shock to find an Aes Sedai of the Brown Ajah standing in the doorway.

“What beetle?” Egwene asked, trying to sound dignified.

“That one!” the woman, obviously half-crazed, pointed at Shaidar Haran. “I saw it sneaking off into the bushes in the grove. Wanted to study the thing.” She waved her hand dismissively, and Shaidar Haran felt a trifle miffed. Thing? What would they call him next? It, again.

Striding over to the Amyrlin’s desk, Verin said, “I found the answer to the paper I showed you.” She pointed in the direction of Shaidar Haran. “That is Ishmael \Ba’Alzamon\ the Heart of the Dark\ the beetle.” Turning, she confronted the Myrddraal. “You are, aren’t you?”

“I’m the Hand of the Shadow. Shaidar Haran,” He clarified. “And I am a he, not an it, or a that, or a thing, or a beetle.”

“What’s your point?” Came Nyneave, followed up by Egwene’s “Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure!” Shaidar Haran shouted, losing his grasp on his temper completely and sending the room flaring into an unnatural darkness. “I am absolutely, positively, completely sure. And no, I am not having an identity crisis.”

“No need to loose your temper.” Leane murmured, smiling in a languid fashion and reaching blindly out towards him.

Shaidar Haran jerked away. “And would you stop that?” He summoned up a dark light. “Now can we get back to business?”

Leane frowned and treated him with a pouty expression, followed by a sharp sniff as she turned away. Nynaeve nodded. “We might as well,” She said, then looked to Egwene. “If you will, Mother.”

Egwene nodded back. “We might as well.” She said. Turning to Shaidar Haran, she asked; “What is your proposition, Shadowspawn?”

“I have a name.” Shaidar Haran pointed out.

“But are you sure of what it is? You keep alternating between calling yourself Shaidar Haran and the Hand of the Shadow. I wouldn’t want to call you the wrong thing, you know.” She frowned. “You having an identity crisis isn’t helping, either.” She turned to Nynaeve. “Could this be part of his midlife crisis?”

Nynaeve frowned, then walked over and set herself down directly in front of Shaidar Haran, blocking his view of the rest of the room. “I don’t know yet. How old are you?”

“Not anywhere near middle-aged.” Shaidar Haran growled, twisting around to get a good glance at Egwene. “And where did you get your education? Shaidar Haran means ‘the Hand of the Shadow’ in the Old Tongue. Even I know that much.”

“From my mother.” Egwene said stiffly. “And I do agree that we should begin negotiating, Shaidar Haran. But I will have you know, that however bad your upbringing was, the Amyrlin Seat deserves a certain degree of respect. I suggest-”

“How old are you?” Nynaeve repeated, cutting Egwene off.

“Twenty.” Shaidar Haran lied, to get her out of his face. How old was he, anyway? The Amyrlin Seat thought his upbringing was lacking? At least he could puzzle out the Old Tongue.

“He’s too young to have a midlife crisis. It is quite possible, however, that he is having a psychological disorder caused by too much stress, lack of sleep and not enough contact with positive emotions and people transmitting those emotions.”

“Do you think that’s possible?” Verin mused, a finger to her lips as she digested that. “We really don’t know that much about the personality and neurological capacity of Myrddraal. It’s rather hard to get a hold of one to answer questions, you know.” She took a place at his shoulder and began to search her pockets for a pen as she produced a book from apparently nowhere.

Shaidar Haran, aware that he was about to become a laboratory exhibit, started to pull away from the Brown sister only to find Leane at his other shoulder. “Are you saying he’s lonely?” She asked with a smile that promised to end that. Shaidar Haran started to pull away from her, only to have Nynaeve catch him by the shoulders and frown fiercely at where his eyes would have been had he been human. “If I combine spirit, air and water in a circular weave with very thin strands, I might be able to-” She faded into unintelligible muttering.

Then said Verin, to Birgitte, “Child, would you be a dear and go gather a couple of Sisters? Sareitha, I think, and a couple more Browns. Maybe a Yellow, if you can find one. Dagdara would be convenient, I think. No, no, not her. One of the Sitters. And….”

“Can we get down to business?” Shaidar Haran squeaked, growing somewhat frantic. He was not a science experiment. He refused to be one. His dark light had dissipated and the room was light again. “Please?” He simply could not knock the frantic edge of his voice. Birgitte smiled at him, clearly amused. Would she stop them if he begged?

A scratch at the window saved his dignity. Birgitte walked over to open it, and in tumbled a young Draghkar. Birgitte stepped back just in time to avoid being bowled over.

The Draghkar gaped wide-eyed at Shaidar Haran, sitting in a chair surrounded by women. Swallowing, it bowed hastily to everyone in the room, twice, then launched into its message. “The Great Lord is losing his patience, and Moridin is really angry. They want you to reach some kind of agreement, and fast.” It stared at him, and scuffled its feet. “Do you want me to relay some kind of message for them?”

“We’re working on it.” Shaidar Haran said.

Verin frowned thoughtfully at the young Draghkar. “We haven’t much knowledge in regards to Draghkar, either.” Smiling suddenly, ominously, she started towards the Draghkar and began to fire questions at it. “Do Draghkar lay eggs? How, exactly, do you hypnotize people, and how do you consume their souls? How long do you live? How old are you? What university did you graduate from? Where have you been previously employed, and for how long?”

“What do you propose in exchange for the unsealing of the Seals?” Egwene asked.

“Truthful information.”

“Of what kind?”

“Useful.”

“What topic areas?”

“Hints at infiltrators, perhaps a few names, some answers, the answers to last night’s Jeopardy, tomorrow’s winning lottery numbers, the location of the Bermuda Triangle, what Christopher Columbus really discovered, the order of-”

“Christopher who?”

“Columbus. An explorer. I can tell you about Magellan, too.”

“The Bermuda what?”

“Nevermind. Have we a deal?”

‘I will have to pull a council together to decide that. It will take a couple of days. Is that okay with you?”

“Fine, I guess.” Shaidar Haran replied, staring at Verin, who was still jabbing questions at the unfortunate Draghkar without giving it a chance to reply. It was a wonder she hadn’t run out of breath yet.

“Have you ever worked grave-yard shift? Written an essay on Quantum Theory or a paper on physics? Did you ever flunk one of your grade school classes? What’s your I.Q.? How old was your mother when she married and what was her maiden name? Did your father have any shares in Microsoft? Did he have a hand in Watergate? Can you juggle while standing on your head? Ever served jury duty? Been audited by the IRS? Read ‘the Name of the Rose’ by Umberto Eco? Read ‘Little Women’? ‘Treasure Island’? ‘Canterbury Tales’? Been abducted by aliens? Been questioned by a conspicuous F.B.I. agent by the name of Mulder? Have you-” She rambled on. Shaidar Haran made a note to avoid her, else he suffer the same fate.

As if on cue, Verin looked up and favored him with a crafty smile.

Shaidar Haran felt his soul and his hopes slowly slipping away.

Seal Five: Visitations of a Rather Odd Type

Thirteen weeks later, Shaidar Haran dropped his head onto the table in front of him. He knew he should have refused when Egwene bloody al’Vere had wanted to bring an Ogier stump meeting into it. He should have turned down the Sitters, too. The Whitecloaks, as well. Why him? Why did this have to happen to him?

The air wavered before him. Looking up, Shaidar Haran saw a man coalesce before him, on top of the otherwise abandoned table. “Who are you?” The weary Myrddraal asked.

The man smiled benevolently. “I am one you might consider as the Creator. ” He said quietly, in the kind of voice that, if put in enlarged print, would have equaled at least a size seventy-two font because of sheer power and wisdom. It made the Dark One -and the other Creator, for that matter- look a blind fool.

“Why are you here?” Shaidar Haran asked, full of unexplainable awe.

The Creator smiled again. “I heard your question, and thought it deserved an answer.” He paused. “Things are the way they are, and there is no justifiable reason for it. It simply is.”

“That doesn’t help much. Can you do something about it?”

The Creator shook His regal head. “Not now. But here is a small comfort: this is not of my making, and therefore is little more than a dream in a sense. Soon it shall go away and you will return to a more realistic existence.” Another smile. “One in which nursery rhymes don’t run around Ogier groves.”

Shaidar Haran nodded slowly. “But if this is not a world of your making, then what is it?”

“But this world is of my making.” The Creator said. “It is this particular plot that is not. Some of my worshippers are a bit…. Too worshipful. They devote their entire lives into creating Wheel of Time related….” The air shimmered again, and abruptly a girl in her early teens wearing thick glasses replaced the Creator.

‘I’m writing this.” She snapped. “Now get back to the plot.” The air shimmered again, and the teenage girl was replaced by a bearded, robed man with a hat on his head. “I’m Fizban.” He said. “Have you seen my hat?”

Shaidar Haran would have blinked in surprise had he been so enabled. “Uh…. I believe it’s on your head, sir.”

Fizban reached up with both hands to touch his head. In doing so, he knocked the hat onto the table. “No it’s not.” He informed the Myrddraal crossly. The air shimmered around him and he was gone.

Something shook Shaidar Haran roughly. Looking around sleepily, he asked “What?”

“You were asleep.” Karldin said roughly. Neither of them liked each other. The two of them had become drinking buddies, however: they disliked Aes Sedai even more than they disliked each other’s company.

“Oh.” Shaidar Haran said. “Thanks. Do you have any brandy?”

“I do.” Dain Bornhald stalked over to the table. He joined them regularly on their escapades, and could gulp down twice as much as the two of them put together. Pulling a flask off of his belt, he tossed it down in front of Shaidar Haran. “Don’t get too drunk, Shadowspawn. They appear to be make a final decision, yes?” Bornhald threatened to have him hung at least twice a day, but his threats never progressed farther than that.

Shaidar Haran glared up at him, but said nothing. He never actually got drunk- he just sat around and slurped a few ales with company that even Leane would not hang around with. It was his one proven defense against her. Although that defense did fray his nerves some. Having an Asha’man muttering darkly about balefire and Shadowspawn-tuned wards on one side and a Whitecloak alternating between threatening him with the hangman’s noose, attempting to convert him to the Light, and bemoaning his lost chance at destroying Perrin Aybara on the other was just a tiny bit irritating. He was going to need a psychiatrist by the time this farce was over.

Shaidar Haran stood flask in hand. “Don’t you have something better to do?” He asked. “I heard a rumor the other day that Aybara was in the city.” Bornhald was off like a flash of the Light.

Karldin shook his head. “Cruel, man. That was cruel.”

Shaidar Haran shrugged. “Of course it was. I’m the Hand of the Shadow.” He seemed to be repeating that an awful lot. I am Shaidar Haran. I am the Hand of the Shadow. No, I am not a beetle and you cannot study me. “Would you go over and tell those Aes Sedai that my Lord is growing bored?”

“They’ll just take longer.” Karldin muttered. But he did.

Shaidar Haran sighed and leaned back against the table. He stepped into a shadow and turned invisible just as Leane strolled past. Chasing him had become a game to her. His Lord burn him to ash, he hoped that this was finished soon.

Turning around, Shaidar Haran noticed a hat on the table. Before his eyes, the air shimmered, and an arm darted through the hole and seized it. “Found it.” A voice crowed triumphantly. Another voice whined plaintively, “Get back to the plot.”

Shaidar Haran gulped down the brandy.

Seal Six: Everyone Finally Agrees to Something

Egwene al’Vere strode towards Shaidar Haran, followed by a covey of Brown sisters and her personal companions, among them Elayne, Siuan, and Nynaeve. Leane was nowhere to be seen, thank the Dark. “We came up with the agreement.” She announced peremptorily.

“What is it?” Shaidar Haran asked. Probably something he would spend an eternity regretting.

“The first three Seals will be unsealed in return for information on the Darkfriends in the Tower, including the identity of the person who was Balthemal. We made up a list of questions we expect answered. Okay?”

“Fine.” Halima was going to have to make a very hasty exit.

“The forth Seal will be unsealed in exchange for everything you know about the Forsaken. Agreed?”

“I guess.” He didn’t know that much about the Forsaken, anyway.

“The fifth and sixth Seals will be unsealed in exchange for your willing participation with the Brown sisters in composing a compendium of knowledge on the various types of Shadowspawn, including yourself. All right?”

“Uh….” Shaidar Haran hesitated.

“If you don’t agree, all that we have previously agreed upon will be void and you’ll have to find another way to get the Seals unsealed.”

“Okay, okay.” Shaidar Haran groaned inwardly. Why hadn’t he just called up the gholim?

“The seventh Seal will be unsealed in exchange for you commanding the Seanchan to stop leashing us.”

“That’s not fair.” Said the sul’dam who was part of the Seanchan embassy, at the same time that Shaidar Haran said “I could command them to, but it won’t help. They aren’t all Darkfriends.”

“Oh.” The Amyrlin Seat paused. Siuan came over to whisper into her ear. “Oh, yes. We will unseal the seventh Seal in exchange for tomorrow’s jackpot lottery winning numbers.”

Shaidar Haran shrugged.

“And the eighth Seal will be unsealed in exchange for you keeping the Gholem off of our backs.”

“There is no eighth Seal.”

“Oh.” There was a definite silence that stretched out for a long moment. “I guess we’re done, then.”

Elayne raised her hand. “May I speak?”

“Yes, Daughter.”

“Thankyou, Mother.” She glared at Shaidar Haran. “When do you want the Last Battle to start?”

“Why do you want to know?” Why was she asking such a stupid question?

“You didn’t specify when you wanted the Seals unsealed. You only said you wanted them unsealed, not when. We could do it ten centuries from now or in another Age…”

“Or I could send a Gholem after you and get it done tomorrow.” Shaidar Haran growled.

“Keep the peace, children.” Verin said, coming up from behind. She had an open book in hand. “Mother, I have something you might want to read.”

“What is it, Daughter?”

“It’s in poetry form. I translated it a few times, and I’d like your opinion of it.” Leaning over, she let Egwene get a good look at the book. Elayne came over. A moment passed, then they both began to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Asked Nynaeve, coming over to join them. She began to laugh. Soon everyone was laughing, save Verin and Shaidar Haran, that latter of whom simply couldn’t seem to get close enough to read it.

“Some of my fellow sisters are waiting for you.” Verin said, taking the book back from Egwene and beginning to walk. Shaidar Haran reluctantly followed her.

“What was so funny?” He asked.

Verin stopped in her tracks and gave him a small, smug smile. She handed him the book. “Read away.”

Shaidar Haran did. Unfortunately, he was on the wrong page, and had to flip all the way through the ‘Daughter of the Night’ -a very naughty romance poem- until he found the bit that had caused so much laughter. There were two things on the same page, an essay on politics and a poem. Shaidar Haran read the poem.

‘Due to some fish paste glue,
and the soul of an old shoe
There was a Myrddraal
who was made to suffer through it all
for the sake of some Seals like
little black and white wheels,
for reasons we doubt he can recall.’

There were some more stanzas, but after those few lines, Shaidar Haran’s mind went blank with shock and he handed the book back. “Was that a Dark Prophecy?” He asked, trying to remember why he had decided to come here in the first place.

Verin stowed the book back into her bag. “No,” She said. “I wrote it just now. Did you reading the ending stanza? What was your overall opinion?”

Shaidar Haran refrained from groaning in despair. He thought he had his emotions well under control, but for some reason, Verin just burst out laughing.

In the back of his head, another, darkly powerful voice chuckled with amusement. “THAT WAS AMUSING, MY HAND. REMIND ME TO HAVE HER BROUGHT BACK WHEN THE TIME COMES.” Shaidar Haran had never been so humiliated before in his life.

“What’s so funny?” Asked Mat Cauthon, coming around the corner. He had a dice cup in his hands, as usual. Verin just howled with laughter, a reaction that just made Cauthon blink. The woman clutching her sides and laughing on the floor did not fit in with the image of the Aes Sedai who had followed them on the hunt for the Horn of Valere.

Sighing, Shaidar Haran explained what was ’so funny’. Mat shook his head. “That’s why women are here, man. They exist to mock us, gripe at us, and call us names.” Shaking his head, he cast Shaidar Haran a sympathetic look. “Since you’re as tall as a Trolloc, they figure there’s just more of you to mock. Play me a game of dice?” He asked hopefully.

Shaidar Haran shook his head in return, then said “Maybe later” in the Old Tongue, which was what Mat had been addressing him in. Mat nodded and went off, whistling a rather badly written tune called ‘Life is a Game of Dice’.

Sitting down against the wall, Shaidar Haran waited for Verin to stop laughing.

Seal Seven: Things Dissolve to an End

Two grueling days of questioning later, Shaidar Haran stood at Verin’s shoulder, as far away from Leane as he could get. Egwene stared down at the seven Seals, laid out on a sheet of linen cloth atop a table. “Shoes have soles, not souls.” She said at last, to Verin.

Behind the Brown sister, Shaidar Haran shrugged. “Actually, they do. We use them as replacements for human souls when we’re lacking prisoners up in the Blight. Unfortunately,” He added. “Those swords always want to match their bearer’s armor, and they have definite ideas about getting dirty. Especially dress shoes,” He continued sadly. “Verin just put that in as humor. But I see what you mean. Can we get on with it?”

“Of course. Siuan, are you sure that water will dissolve this fish paste?”

Siuan harrumphed. “Of course it will. I didn’t live near the docks of Tear for nothing, you know.”

“Okay then. Lets get started.” She sloshed a bucket of water across the Seals.

Siuan gave a start. “Not like that! The Seals…. Uh oh.” The Seals fizzled. Foam rose around their edges. It made strange bubbling noises. The surrounding onlookers gazed on in shock as they dissolved.

“Fishsticks and butter-garlic sautéed salmon strips!” Siuan cursed.

Swallowing, Elayne looked up at Shaidar Haran. “When did you want the Last Battle to start?”

Shaidar Haran’s forehead wrinkled as he gazed down at the chalky remnants of the Seals. “Now, I guess.” He said faintly. The voice in the back of his head laughed.

hello…
no.. i am NOT an incarn, i am too busy to deal with that stuff, i DO talk to several of them quite a bit, and from those conversations i wrote this story, the Hero is Shai’tan, one of the newer incarns, the Villians are all of you.
heh heh heh….
If you would like to read more, about the further adventures of Shai’tan, the evil-good-guy, please post some sort of response to this, asking me to write more

-Joram
br>
Shai’tain’s Story

Shai’tan sat at his nice new desk and smiled happily. Today was going to be a good day, he just knew it.

At first when they’d offered him the job, he couldn’t believe his good fortune, and now, well, he was still very optimistic about the future. He could change things, he could change the RP for the better, now, and fix everything that was wrong with it. Today was his first day on the job, and it was going to be great!

Of course, the first thing to do would be to get a feel for how the job worked, so Shai’tan stood up, admiring his nifty black décor. Naturally the room would be black. He was part of the Dark One Incarnation, after all! Near the door he examined the black carpet carefully. Was that a snag?

He knelt down to get a closer look, and was almost pushed over by someone in an awful hurry to get through the door. “Sorry,” the person said, and carried the huge pile of papers in his arms over to the obsidian desk. “Hi, I’m the Dark One, your fellow Incarnation. This paperwork needs to be done, and don’t complain, because I gave you a little less than I gave myself. Have a nice day.” He set the stack of papers down, and was halfway out the door before Shai’tan called out to him.

“Wait!” he shouted desperately. “I need your help. HOW’S MY VOICE SOUND TO YOU? IS IT TOO HIGH, OR IS THIS ALL RIGHT?”

The Dark One stopped in his tracks. “It’s a little high, but it’ll do. See you later, I have work to do.” With that, he was gone, leaving Shai’tan sitting on the carpet, confused.

After a few seconds of confusion he stood up, and began to look through the stack of papers on the desk. He started reading them aloud, getting out his special DarkOne ™ pen to write the replies.

“‘Dear Dark One Incarnations,

Can I be someone from the Age of Legends?’” he said, and continued, to himself, “Well that’s easy. The answer is “NO.” Very carefully Shai’tan wrote the single word on the piece of paper, and put it in the Outbox.

Then he picked up the second piece of paper.

“Dear Dark One Incarnations,

Can I be a wolfbrother and a channeler?” Shai’tan shook his head, and wished that new people would read the guidelines all the incarnations had posted together at Dragonmount. Nevertheless he dipped his pen in ink and wrote “NO,” in big bold letters on the page. The ink dried magically fast, so he set that one too in the box labelled in neat red letters, “Out.”

He picked up the next letter, which turned out to be a request to be Nae’blis. With some trepidation Shai’tan put down that note, quickly shuffling through the rest of the stack of papers.

His heart sank. They were all like that. Every single one of them.

The newly-hired Incarnation moaned and laid his head down on the desk.

*****

Some hours later, looking somewhat dishevelled, he emerged from his study, feeling somewhat less optimistic than he had previously.

Both his feet had fallen asleep, so his gait was uneven and foolish-looking. The first time he’d stood up he’d slipped and fallen onto his butt into an undignified heap. Now he was just staggering through the halls like a drunken camel, which was in his eyes a tremendous improvement.

He found another of his fellow incarnations’s office, and knocked on the door. A beautiful female voice told him to come in. Closing the door behind him, he noticed that the entire office was a really dreadful shade of pink, and shuddered in disgust. The woman at the desk saw, and nodded in disgust. “It’s terrible, isn’t it? But the stereotype is that girls are pink and boys are blue. Somehow my counterpart Saidin managed to get a navy blue, but do you think that moron designer could find it in his heart not to give me pink?” Her beautiful face tightened in revulsion. “No, of course not. That would be too easy.” Saidar scowled, and banged a piece of paper into her Outbox. She then turned her irritated gaze on Shai’tan. “What do you want?” she demanded rudely.

“Oh, I’m just trying to figure out exactly what my job is,” he said, and smiled affably, trying the “charm” approach.

It didn’t work.

Saidar frowned. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for this right now. I still have this entire stack of papers, and then we all have a meeting together about the future of the RP. Could you come back later?” Briefly she turned her gaze on the next paper on the stack in front of her.

Suddenly her gorgeous face took on a frightening Aspect, and she snarled, the paper twisting in her milk-white hands. “If I’ve told them once, I’ve told them a thousand times,” Saidar grated, as steam began to come out of her ears, “NO MORE DREAMWALKERS!!!!” She screamed the last phrase in a dulcet contralto that rose swiftly to a shrill soprano.

Shai’tan fell to the ground, trembling. He’d never heard of anyone other than the Dark Ones using a Voice like that, but now he knew better. Saidar did have power.

After a few moments he dared to peek, and found her ignoring him once more, concentrating on the papers, a white halo of rage still encompassing her perfect form. As moved his arms from their position on his head, and stood up, she noticed him again, and he flinched reflexively. “You again,” Saidar said, sounding annoyed. “Didn’t I tell you to go away?”

“Yes, yes ma’am, you did, I’m really sorry, it’ll never happen again…” he found himself babbling, and backed out of the door, which slammed behind him with a thread of the Power.

Shai’tan leaned up against the wall, breathing hard, wishing that his hands would stop shaking. What a terrifying person! Hopefully he wouldn’t have to work with her again!

He began to walk slowly back to his office, still shaking like a leaf. Every few moments he had to stop and take a breather. Somehow he made it back, and got to the desk, where he sat down.

Somehow the Inbox was full again.

Shai’tan groaned, and picked up the paper on the top.

—–

ater that day, just as he was getting to the last paper in the pile, Shai’tan heard a knock on the door. “Come in!” he said happily, glad of a distraction. The heavy black door swung open, and a young man entered the room, carrying a few sheets of paper in his hand. Shai’tan tried to keep from gawking at him, but it was difficult, because the fellow was the handsomest male person he’d ever seen. Just like that knockout Saidar, he was perfectly formed. Shai’tan felt a flash of envy burn through his blood, and squashed it down. I bet he gets all the chicks.

“What is it?” he asked politely, and the man grinned affably.

“Not much, really. I’m Saidin, and I heard you were new on the job. These are the rules we have here. There aren’t many, but you should read them to avoid stepping on anybody’s toes. Some of us can be a bit touchy.” First the two men shook hands. Then Saidin handed Shai’tan the papers. “If you need any help, I’m down the hall. By the way, our relationship with the Org Heads has been a little strained lately. Be nice to them. I have to go and get some work done. See you later.”

The new Incarnation nodded, and watched Saidin go. A slight feeling of lingering envy trailed along behind him.

He examined the rules.

1. There are no perks to this job.

He understood that, of course, and nodded. If there were perks he certainly wouldn’t have objected, but the fact that there weren’t any didn’t shock him in the least.

2. Answer stupid questions kindly.

He’d done that already, many times.

Shai’tan suppressed a groan, thinking of all the papers he’d signed and sent off, and hoped there weren’t more of them.

Just then he looked down and saw that the Inbox was again, somehow full.

The scream echoed through the corridors, but no one noticed.

The Incarnations knew what it was like.

—–

fter an hour, the last reply was written, and he stood up, and went to the bathroom, to splash some water on his face. The mirror reflected a gaunt, haggard face, that seemed as if he’d been a prisoner of war in some camp for thirty years. Shai’tan frowned, and tried to firm up the way he looked- he’d been told that Incarnations could change their appearance if they so desired- but all he managed to do was make a goatee appear on his face, giving a fairly diabolical impression.

He still looked as if he’d been run over by a train.

He felt marginally worse.

—–

hai’tan walked back to his office as slowly as he possibly could. Upon seeing someone ahead, he took a deep breath, trying to regain his former positivity, or at least an appearance of positivity.

The man in the corridor looked handsome, but perfectly ordinary, with glasses and a goatee, rather similar to Shai’tan’s own. Ordinary, human brown hair framed a face with ordinary, brown eyes. Surely this person couldn’t be another Incarnation? He was too… normal. He held a small suitcase in one hand, and some sort of electronic device in the other. He smiled a perfectly ordinary smile (so different than the perfectly perfect perfection of the Incarnations!) and extended a hand. “Hi,” the fellow said. “I’m Samwise. They call me Joram, sometimes, but I’m Samwise. I’m the OOC administrator. Have you met your IC administrator yet?”

“We have an administrator?” Shai’tan asked, somewhat bewildered. He’d never heard that when he was signing on.

Samwise nodded. “Yes, you do. But I’m sure you’ll find that out later. I’m just here to tell you not to do anything that affects people out of character. That’s my job, and that of the Org Leaders, okay?”

“Oh no!” Shai’tan said, chagrined. “I already mailed something to Demandred that-”

The Administrator interrupted, “Yes, we know. It’s taken care of. Don’t worry about it, just don’t do it again.”

The Incarnation let out a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t know.”

“I figured. Just don’t do it again. I’m sure your administrator will talk to you about it later. I’m sorry, but I have to go talk to an Org Leader who’s misbehaving now.” Samwise frowned. “For some reason, people aren’t liking the new rules, and I’m trying to convince them they’re wrong. Goodbye, and good luck.”

Samwise swung the briefcase lightly back and forth as he walked down the hall, leaving Shai’tan somewhat confused behind him. Halfway down the hall, the Administrator stopped and turned around, waving at the sky. “I like this. I’ve never been in a silly story before.” Then he continued on his way back down the hall, whistling.

Shai’tan had no idea what he meant by that, and decided to ignore it, opening the door to his office.

The stack of papers in the Inbox was a foot high, and someone was sitting in his chair.

“What’s going on?” Shai’tan asked the ordinary-looking woman at his desk.

“Hello,” she said, with a slight drawl. “I’m your administrator. I’m just here to say hi, really. I’ll be back later to tell you exactly what your job is, but right now I have to make sure the RP boards are working right.” She stood up and was out the door so fast that Shai’tan couldn’t stop her to ask her what she meant.

When he looked down, he noticed that the pile on the desk was twice as large as it had been just a moment ago. Resolutely the new Incarnation sat down at his desk, ignoring the pile, and began to write. He wrote to the Org leaders, mostly, asking what they thought about the RP at DM, and then wrote to some others, prominent people at DM, and a few less important folks as well, asking them what they thought he should try to change. Methodically Shai’tan finished those letters, and proceeded to go through the requests in the Inbox.

Naturally they were still all the same, but by now he was resigned to it.

Right then the door burst in, and a wild-eyed young computer geek sprinted in, waving his arms excitedly. “I’m God! I’m God!” he yelped, in a squeaky voice reminiscent of a blender on “frappe.” Shai’tan watched, fascinated. “I’m the Dragon! I’m the long-lost twin brother of Rand al’Thor, I’m Nae’blis, not Demandred, and I have a ter’angreal that can destroy whole nations!!”

A beautiful woman walked into the room. To Shai’tan she looked a little like Saidar, having that same absolutely gorgeous halo of perfection about her, but she clearly wasn’t the same woman, being dark-haired instead of golden-haired. After a few seconds of speechless, wholehearted admiration, Shai’tan wiped the drool from the corner of his lip and observed her taking the young man by the ear.

“OWWWW!!!!” he screamed hysterically, and yelled, “You can’t do this! I’m the DRAGON!!!!” Firmly the strange woman began to tug him toward the door.

“Hello,” she greeted Shai’tan in a warm tone. “I’m Open Rose, but you can call me Rose. Sorry about this,” she added apologetically, ignoring the whines and please of the computer geek she held tightly by the ear.

“What- what’s going on?” the newest Incarnation of Evil stuttered, nervous about the apparently insane man writhing in Rose’s grip.

“Newbie,” she said simply, and was gone.

The pile in the Inbox was four feet high.

Shai’tan whimpered.

All of you MUST forgive me for this. It’s coming right off the top of my head.

Lasir scowled as the flower covered pigeon came back, slightly singed, with a message tied to its leg.

“Dang it, Demmy. You don’t have to ROAST the bloody things!”

She set the pigeon off in the general direction of the coop, hoping that this one would make it before that weirdo with the feathers in his mouth found it. She opened up the message, and read it.

“Lasir. Stop.”

She looked around and then pitched her voice lower. “To kill a Gholam, you have to throw burning socks at it. Stop.”

She looked around again, and thought for a moment. She didn’t own socks. Just thigh high hosiery and her White Boots of Doom. She looked at the note again.

“Yes, they can be smelly. Stop. Really. Stop. Love and Kisses, Demmy.”

“Smelly socks, eh? I know just the thing!”

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

She marched out into the Practice Grounds and looked hawkishly over the pickings. Accepted and Sedai alike were swooning over the Wards as they practiced their forms. She walked over to Darkseid and tilted up her head.

“How are you, Darks?” she said, cautiously. He took a moment out of muttering about beer and concrete long enough to acknowledge her presence.

“Hello, Lasir. I’m fine. Except for this bruise on my shin. It hurts!”

“Want me to kiss it and make it better?”

“No, that’s what Ash is for.”

“Fair enough. I need to borrow some Wards.”

“What for this time?”

“I need their socks,” she whispered, looking to her left and right. If the Amyrlin found out…

“Jeez Lasir, you don’t have to ask me for that,” he grumbled and rubbed his elbow. “Just take ‘em, I don’t care.”

“Thanks!” she yipped and hugged him, which he didn’t seem to mind much.

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

Lasir tapped Lanfir on the shoulder and dropped a quick curtsey. “Lanfir, could you open me a Gateway to an undisclosed location that I don’t really know the spot where it’s at but need to get there anyway, so that I may save the world… again?”

Lanfir rolled her eyes and started up the weave. “Sure, Lasir. That’s what I’m here for. Weave weave weave. Lanfir, can you make a Gateway? Lanfir, can I play with your Warders? Lanfir, can I see your -”

“Lanfir, how’re the sheep?”

“Oh fine thanks!” The Head of the Battle Ajah beamed. “One of them peed today! It was so cute!”

They both giggled insanely and nearly fell over laughing. “Woo boy,” Lasir said. “Nothing like a flaming sheep!”

Lanfir waved as Lasir led the usual crowd through the Gateway – Jaks and Jayce and Jhae and 12 other people whose names started with J. It closed behind them, and Jhae turned to look at the spot where it was. “I gotta learn that weave.”

“You don’t know it yet?” Lasir asked, her jaw dropping.

“Um….no.”

“Drat. Now it’s gonna take us a whole week to get back. Bloody….ashes…bloody…”

“Lasir! Language!” Jayce said with a smirk. She brushed a little lint off her shoulder and looked warily around the … woods.

“Where’re we at? They got food?” Jaks asked, munching on a bit of fried rabbit. Lasir’s stomach rumbled. Souvan looked distinctly unimpressed.

“We’re at….the place where the Wolfkin are that technically we don’t know about,” Lasir announced with a flourish.

“Does Aldazar know about this?” Souvan asked.

“I hope not. We’re here to find Darksmoon.”

“Again?” the group said, with a groan. She folded her arms under her cleavage. She got the distinct feeling that somewhere, some way, Joe and Soraya were in a nook somewhere…doing nook type things. She shuddered and made a face.

“Yes again! He has the smelliest socks in Randland next to Jarron! I need those socks!!”

“Someone called my name?” Jarron asked, peeking his head in through a Gateway. Jhae swooned. He grinned at Lasir and made a kissy face, then got all serious again. “I do NOT have stinky feet!”

“Do too.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
“Do too – Oh hush, J! You’re not even in this storyline!”

The Dragon Reborn stuck out his tongue, Lasir pierced it and all was well again.

“Now, for those soc -”

“Yeah?” Darksmoon said, popping up out of a few bushes. Souvan looked distinctly unimpressed.

“Darks! I need your socks!” Lasir yelled, tossing herself at him shamelessly and raining kisses on him. The Wolfkin grinned.

“Well, okay, but um….I have to come too, and…I want a smooch!!” Darks said, his hands on his hips.

“Well, okay. But you’ll have to hide. You know how made the Amyrlin gets when I bring back strays.”

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

Speaking of the Amyrlin, she was dusting off the last of her month’s supply of pudding cups, when suddenly her Ammy senses started tingling.

“Lasir’s gone!” she yelled and grumbled. Where was her Gaidin?! This called for more pudding. “Joe? Josef?”

She snarled and pressed the button for the Keeper.

“Yes, Mother?” Serafelle said, looking in from writing secretive email to Ben. She looked slightly dazed.

“Bring me more pudding! And where is Lasir? And Jhae? And the rest of her little Tribe of Terror?”

“She left a note, Mother.”

“Bout time. What’d it say?”

“That she’d be back at around 3 o’clock.”

“Well… make sure that when she gets back, she makes some more pudding. And none of that low fat stuff, you hear?!”

“Yes Mother. Mother, how do you spell ‘pulsating?’”

“P-u-l-s…Sera, scoot.”

“Yes, Mother.”

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

“So who IS Jimmy?”

“I don’t know, Darks. But whenever she talked about him, I don’t have to do chores,” Lasir said.

“And the reading lamp?”

“You’d have to ask Sor – hi Lanfir!” Lasir yelped, as Darks ducked behind her, hands on her hips. The Head of the Almighty Green Ajah (available for weddings!) looked suspicious.

“Who’s that behind you, Lasir?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“It’s…um….Ash.”

“Oh. Okay. Tell him I need him later to hold down a little bit of string while I…tie a bow.”

“You got it!” Lasir quipped, and saluted, as the Green went along her way.

“Did she see me?” Darks asked, peeking around Lasir’s cleavage.

“No, I don’t think so. Hands to yourself!!”

“Sorry.”

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

The men were lined up against the wall, their shoes removed and Jhae had thrown up a protective wall of Air between Lasir and the row of tall good looking but stinky footed men of the world of DM.

“Are you ZURE he zzaid that thizz waz zee only way?” Jhae has, holding her nose. Lasir nodded.

“Yezz. Steenky zockz.”

The took a deep breath, and the wall went up, and Lasir yanked all the socks off and put them in a big pile in the middle of the room, and set fire to them with a deft weave.

“Everybody OUT!” she screamed, and was near trampled as the brave men of DM scrambled en masse to remove themselves from her bedroom. Out of the shadows ran one Grey Woman, and a large Gholam.

“Curse you, Lasir!” he said.

Actually, it was more like “*muffled* Lasir! Blood *muffled* *gag*” but we like drama.

Lasir put her hands on her hips, and smiled at a job well done. Then promptly passed out from the smell.

Summoning all her courage, Phryg stuck her head into the great, cavernous mess. She rubbed her scrub-brush through the pool of soapy water and started to tackle the crud on the walls of the pot. From the inside of the big metal space the sound of the brush was maginfied ten-fold. It made a rasping, scraping rhythym that made Phryg smile in spite of herself. Pretty soon she caught herself humming. With her head stuck in the pot that simple humming made the most magnificent sound. It reverberated off the pot’s walls and came back to her as a loud and joyful sound. Phryg needed some joy in her life these days. Her roommate had been raised to Accepted and her two other best friends as well. To top that off she was hanging in limbo, not knowing how badly she was to be punished for the worm prank (damn that DM site! *g*) and that horrible Floyd flooded her basement and porch and knocked down trees all over her town and caused huge amounts of damage everywhere she looked and had the power out for 13 hours and made a huge mess and . . . (oops, that’s real life, not DM. I get the two confused *g*)

Pretty soon the rythym of the scrub brush started to match up to the song she was humming. And then, Phrygiana began to sing . . .

(to the tune “O Tannenbaum”):

“I scrub the pots
I scrub the pots
And when I’m done they’ll give me more

My feet are sore and so’s my back
The Aes Sedai all think I’m cracked

I scrub the pots
I scrub the pooooooooooootttss!
And when I’m done they’ll give me more!”

She smiled and laughed to herself, feeling another one coming on.

(to the tune, “Jingle Bells”):

(verse)”Crouching on the floor
Head stuck in a pot
Scrubbing’s such a bore!
Hey! This one’s still hot!
Burnt chocolate pudding skin,
Peeling it’s a feat.
Light! this must have been
That @#!!$%*#?!! Amrylin Seat’s!

(chorus)OH! Scrub the pots
Scrub the pots
Scrub them til they shine!
And I’ll have more to do
If Alosha hears me whine!
Scrub the pots
Scrub the pots
Scrub them til they shine
Yes, I’l have more to do
If Alosha hears me whine!”

By the end of that song Phryg was singing at the top of her little soprano voice. She punctuated the song with a laugh and kept on scrubbing as she tried to come up with another one.

After finishing her last song, Phryg grinned wide and sang an entire scale, from as low as she could sing to the very top of her range, as loud as she possibly could. What great accoustics!!!

She launched into another one:

(to the tune “La Cucuracha”)

“I scrub the pudding
I scrub the pudding
Pudding dripping from the rim
I scrub the pudding
I scrub the pudding
Cleaning for the Amrilyn!!”