ArtemisFowl14

I won’t lie and say that my time in the White Tower was easy compared to back home. I did however enjoy the discipline and the different points of view from all the different ajahs. The Brown sisters were overjoyed at the enthusiasm in which I devoured the books of the Great Library. As for the change of attire, it was intriguing to wear a more masculine take on the Novice dress. I wore simple white shirt and trousers with the ajah colours along the shoulders and down one leg. My hadori marked me out among the other novices but I paid it no mind. As an allowance to both my homeland and due to a request, I placed with the Green Ajah head and head of the warders, I was allowed to use the practice field when I had free time between lessons. The comfortable weight of my sword as I ran through the forms helped to keep me grounded and also helped me to remember my duties were I back home. It didn’t escape my notice how many Accepted and full Aes Sedai came down to watch us. I did my very

“Peace little brother; I think you can give yourself a break," a gruff voice sounded behind me. I grinned at weapon master Lendrad, a buff Shienarer who had rode with my father during the Last Battle. Both had barely come out alive but with excellent stories and impressive scars. I moved my arms to the rest position and without thinking went into Cat Crosses the Courtyard. He shook his head at that and playfully slapped the back of my head. Even though he was older than me, he saw me more as a sibling than a charge. But at the last minute I pushed him out of the way as a knife flew out of the shadows. Without thinking I reached out with one hand and something stopped the knife and the assailant in mid-air. My eyes opened wide with horror and surprise. Lendrad made his way over to restrain the would-be assassin. His eyes weren’t full of fear, but they were resigned. I nodded at him and once we were sure they were tied up we made our way to my father’s study. This wasn’t going to be a

Name: Gesean A’Myrag Title: Reclusiarch Nicknames: Moon Chaser, Blinky, Old Wolf, Blacksmith Place of birth: Seven Towers, Malkier Name day: 11th Aine,102ALB (march 26th Age: 102 Affiliations: Black Tower, Warders yard , Wolfkin Rank: Asha'man Shiatar Appearance: Shoulder length white hair, light scars across face, right eye with yellow iris, left eye solid gold (functional) Background: raised by his parents to fight against the shadow, his sudden ability to channel when fending off an assassination attempt on his father resulted in leaving to train at the White Tower. He petitioned to continue his training at the Black Tower when it was officially established, having earned the rank of Accepted. He now stands as Reclusiarch of the Ebony Archives, Wolfkin and guardian of objects of power too powerful to be released. Personality: while seemingly stiff and formal to the casual observer, he does have a humorous side which only those who get past his defences see. He does not

Atropos and Clothos went silent and their faces seemed to be warring with what expression to use. They flicked between anguish, denial, and eventually settled on acceptance. “Very well. no doubt you remember those stories started by the Ivory City Authorities on how vampyres were slavering abominations? and how we all know that to be propaganda indirectly aimed at us?” “I knew all but that last past,” Lacieses commented dryly “But it does seem to be a little too subtle to be aimed at our order.” “We are the ones who are responsible for the creation of that rumour. What do you know of the creature known as Lilith?” “I know she is currently in a permanent state of decomposition after she tried to break into my mind and take knowledge she neither earned or deserved,” Lacieses spat out and the expression on Rose remained unchanged except for the sudden pulling out of a long poniard, which she proceeded to clean her teeth with. “Very uncivilised for someone several thousand years old.

Following Atropos through the archway, they noticed a well lived in room. On the shelves were old books written in languages that even Lacieses couldn’t read. That in itself was quite an achievement. Rose naturally looked all over, appearing to be empty headed while lacieses knew she was taking numerous mental notes. “So, is it just you here, or was that twin act just for our benefit?’ Lacieses asked dryly. He had found the whole thing wasteful and more fit for a small village play. Atropos chuckled slightly. “Clothos is out at the moment but I expect she will be returning soon. I’m sure you will enjoy her company just as much as mine. Please, be seated,” he gestured to the circle of chairs. While the material was plain wood, they were covered in the old sigils of the Order in Stormhelm. Lacieses stopped briefly as he ran his fingers over the curved runes. Rose could sense the turmoil inside but did not wish to comment. Atropos seemed to understand as a look of sincere sympathy

Lacieses had decided to retract the blade of his scythe into the shaft so it merely looked as if he was holding a very solid walking stick. Rose however made no concessions towards normality; occasionally walking up walls for brief periods before coming down to ground level. This produced giggles and laughter from any nearby children and looks of disbelief from any adult. “So, who exactly are these people we are meeting? All you said before we left was that they were exiles” Rose asked as she casually spun in place. Lacieses took a brief check on their bearings before diverting down a side alleyway close to the city walls. “As I understand it, each group has a set of undesirables that they need to remove entirely due to either dangerous conflicts with the higher ups or they broke too many of the rules to be safely ignored and must be punished. For the Thieves, they are the Dead Hands who end up as beggars with limbs removed; for the mages they have the Blind Scribes- made unable to

Stepping outside of the dungeons into the fresh air was always a small trial of annoyance for Lacieses. The offer of assistance from the exile put him on edge in a way he did not enjoy. Especially with all the other events. The young mages thankfully hadn’t suffered too badly under the malfeasant tutelage of their corrupt masters and had bounced back remarkably well. Some had even shown a flicker of skills towards necromancy. Electra herself had even commented on such as she helped them go through this trying time. He needed to discuss with Magnus the possibility of setting up a satellite school from Stormhelm. Not everyone could be expected to travel all the way up into the snow and mountains as children by themselves. However, he would insist that for those who expected to become masters they would be required to make the pilgrimage. No where else was such knowledge contained; and if he had his way it would remain so. He was broken from his reverie by the steps of a messenger. It

Lacieses curled his lips in disgust at the figure on the ground in chains. His body was covered in winding street tattoos, as well as binding runes burned into the flesh by Laciesis’s scythe. He did not wish to take the risk of him becoming possessed by any of the angry spirits that may be wandering. Or that the people he was looking for would make him into a deadly puppet. And while it would no doubt have been easier to send out the thieves to find the right people, Lacieses had preferred the hands-on approach. And only he knew the tell-tale signs that showed for the kind of men he was looking for. The only place he could be assured of privacy was in the dungeon cells they had found on the grounds of the school. He despised having to do this here. That they existed at ALL. but there was no other place he could do this, and it helped him to channel his anger. He began in the usual order: questions asked harshly and seriously. But when that yielded no answers, he moved on to more…