[Renecen]

Scenario:
This takes place in a Wheel of Time (Robert Jordan's books) world.
Mud is called A moment in Tyme -
You have Loreanna who is an Aes Sedai and with her are Ciaran (me), Roshar and Iavoe. Not her bonded Warders, but Warders nonetheless. Earlier in an Inn a strange man approached them and left them a note saying somebody wants to meet them outside of the city at midnight. So the group rides into the meeting, expecting trouble...


It is well past the midnight hour, and the night is eerily still. Snow falls lightly from the ground, but there is no wind to whip it around. Unfortunately, the clouds cover most of the moon, leaving the night poorly illuminated. As you travel along, you notice a beacon of light, obviously from a small fire, in the location you were told to meet as per the message. Should you enter that light, however, your night vision will be ruined, leaving you temporarily blinded.

The Aes Sedai rides between both Roshar and Ciaran. Her guard is up as she slowly looks over the pitch black area. As Saidar runs through her veins, her sight is inhanced as is her hearing. Her head turns to look at each creak or snap that should arise from around her small party. Her green eyes return to look forward at the firelight. She looks around the light, seeing if there is anyone present at the chosen spot. Her head turns to look to both Roshar and Ciaran, saying nothing as her horse carries her onward between both men. [Loreanna]

Darkish folds of fine fabric shower down from one of the following person's shoulders. It's oliven colour seemingly aborbs the dancing shadows, wrapping his being into shifting shades of black. A large hood is pulled over his head, revealing little of the bearded man's face, and only the subtle shifting of his head indicates his attention seems to be entirely focused upon what lies ahead. The soft sound of his grey horse's hooves crushing through the frozen layer of snow, walking placidly next to Loreanna. [Roshar]

Iavoe's approach is not nearly as direct as the others. Coming in from a different direction, Iavoe arrives silently on foot, the snow muffling his boots which had earlier been covered in a wrap of fur to further quiet them. Those lighter or shinier parts of Iavoe's clothing have been removed or covered so that the man is as black as the night around, face painted to suit and hair hidden beneath his hood. Iavoe's mount is off a ways in the forest, far enough not to be heard or noticed but close enough to be reached with some running. The man has no sword drawn but a loaded small crossbow rests ready in his right hand, and a string of darts is strapped to the leather band over his chest which holds the sheathe upon his back. He moves as silent s he might, shifting from shadow to shadow and never yet entering the circle of light provided by the fire. The man's attention is in constant motion, shifting from the fire to the forest to directly behind him.

Ciaran is garbed more heavily than usual, his regular clothes have been covered by a link-mail shirt that covers the torso and neck area, while the top of the head is adorned with a helmet. Ciaran's face is still visible however and a grim determination can be seen etched onto the man's features, his eyes darting constantly about for any signs of danger. Instead of the usual cloak, Ciaran's back is covered by an old, battered, wooden shield.

As you get closer to the fire, you notice a shadowy figure hunched over it. He is hard to see from a distance, especially considering he has all the light at the moment. He appears, however, to be looking straight at the main party, and somehow you get the impression of an expectant air. He does not move to approach them, however, and seems to be alone.

Loreanna's eyes narrow, focusing on the figure she spots at the fire. She continues to earge her horse on through the snow coming ever closer to the light. The cold does not seem to touch Loreanna. She looks as if she is perfectly comfortable in this cold weather and at ease even though she travels towards a man she does not know anything about. She, perhaps nerverously, looks over to where Cairan's silent form rides next to her and then over to Roshar's form before looking back towards the firelight.

The darkish, metal scabbard at his left hip that shows beneath the lower hem of his cloak swings lightly and in perfect harmony to the tall horse's step. Thin tendrils of pale mist arise both from its nostrils, as well as from the shaded face of the bearded Gaidin, floating and fading into the cold night's air. Softly, Roshar's gloved hands hold the reins of his horse, while it's path is mainly directed by gentle pressure applied by this thighs. His cold, distant but attentive glace drifts over the pale surface of snow and penetrates into the illumed area ahead, only favoring the single present person with a brief moment of attention, before his head drops down lightly again, shading his eyes from the bright light once more. From shaded eyes, his attention drifts mainly into the darkish shadows closeby, carefully scanning his surrounding. His horse keep his position close to Loreanna's right side, slowly approaching what lies ahead. [Roshar]

Iavoe skirts the edges of the light, circling about the darkened perimiter as silent as he is able in search of possible lurkers or ambush. As much as he can Iavoe conceals himself from sight to the sides as well as from the gathering about the fire, though admittedly that is not always possible. His attention is especially alert for signs of tracks in the snow, either for strangers or for indication as to where the waiting man near the fire came from.

Ciaran continues to lead the horse slowly right next to Loreanna towards the circle of light. As the group of tree get close enough, Ciaran looks towards the other two and without any words spoken brings his own horse to a halt and begins to dismount, intent on walking and leading the horse by its reigns the rest of the way. As Ciaran's right hand takes in the reigns, the left hand takes the shield from the back and straps it onto the left arm tightly. Now dismounted, Ciaran stops momentarily before venturing forward and he looks questioningly towards his companions.

As the company stops just outside the circle of light, the man stands and spreads his arms wide open. "Do not be shy, my friends," he says, cheerily enough, "I do not intend to shout at you from afar. Come close to the fire, and warm your bones." As he speaks, he smiles broadly, an action that pulls rather unpleasantly at the scar across his face. [Aidan]

Loreanna moves to follow Ciaran's lead and dismounts with an easy shift of weight. Her boots keeping her feet dry and warm. Her green eyes look to the man as he speaks and goes on to say in her soft Altaran voice, "Greetings." She moves to take her horses reins in her left hand and leads the horse a bit further in. Her eyes are locked on the man's face, taking note of his scar while saying, "You were the one that had the note sent to me?"

A soft and pale tendril of mist crawls past the bearded man's lips, accompanying the low and distant murmur of "Just stay close, m'Lady..." drifts at Loreanna while they are still far enough not to be overheard. A whisper of silently shifting cloth engulfs his shifting form, as he slowly dismounts from his grey horse's back. A distant sound of crunching snow fades into the darkness, as Roshar descends between the two horses, right at Loreanna's right stir-up. Like faint waves of darkens, the thin fabric of his cloak showers downwards, extends and wraps itself smoothly around the still cloaked man, while his gloved, right hand rest still at his horse's reigns - but there is no doubt it would not remain behind as commanded. The folds of his cloaked are still drawn closely around him, veiling the hilts of his weapons, the black shirt and the light chain-mail shirt worn beneath, as he silently follows Loreanna, leading his horse close on his own, right side.. [Roshar]

Iavoe, apparently finding nothing untoward yet, attempts to complete a circuit around the firelight's edge, moving from tree shadow to bush shadow as necessary to stay concealed on this dark night. His attention never stays in one place long, shifting from direction to direction, firelight to darkness as quickly as a bee zipping from flower to flower. Iavoe moves just enough, on noticing his breath in the air, to pull up his tunic over his nose and conceal the telltale white clouds as he stalks the night. Unsure what might happen yet Iavoe makes particular effort to memorize every detail he can about the man at the fire should he be a sole survivor available to report upon him.

Ciaran walks next to Loreanna like a faithful hound. He offers the stranger only a brief nod in greeting and then towards Roshar Ciaran offers a meaningful look, one that could only signify for him to be very careful. Ciaran's shield covers a good part of the front of his torso as he keeps the arm against his chest and the man's eyes continue to dart around.

Aidan's grin suddenly turns feral, a nasty glint entering his eyes as he examines the trio standing before him. Iavoe, of course, he has no knowledge of. Rubbing his hands together eagerly, he proclaims, "Well then. A fine bunch you are, aren't you? With your fine clothing and your expensive accessories. Indeed. Never giving a care for who you trample as you get your grubby hands on your trinkets. Hmph." As he speaks, his voice slowly moves from friendly, to down right nasty, and with the last little sound of disgust, he spits at the snow in Loreanna's general direction and suddenly draws the rather crude sword that hangs at his waist.

The snow suddenly stirs to life it would seem, a mist of pure white catching the light from the fire with a silvery sheen permeated throughout the sudden bustle as six men leaps up from all directions as they were hidden beneath the snow; they are a sore lot to behold, but malice and greed are still evident in their eyes and desperation seen across their rugged expressions and channeled through the ways they each hold a large crossbow in both hands, aimed at the men from the front whilst three of them seek to flank the group of men; one man, Caron, charges from the rear, swinging a club in a wide circle, aimed to knock Loreanna's head even though it would only be a glancing blow meant to render her unconscious (of course, should he get close enough to begin with)

Loreanna's eyes widen slightly and she moves to her right, missing the man's spit and placing herself before Roshar. She pulls her reins close, her horse surprizingly calm but still pancing about from the surprise of the men jumping out. The mare blocks the man, Caron, from actually getting to her and she moves to look around her while prepairing to channel.

Roshar's tall horse steps firmly towards the illumed circle, shielding most of its master torso with its own body towards the right side of the small group. From the depth of his shaded face, his gaze spins towards the suddenly errupting through the peacful surface of snow. The darkish folds of cloth suddenly seem to blossom out around his figure, extending and pulling a gap right at his chest, revealing the black shirt and empty scabbard at his side. As there is little to do for him to prevent the approaching man from reaching Loreanna, his quickly moving figure smoothly pulls his horse forwards and infront of Loreanna's, using the animal to shield her from what attack might come from the illumed circle of light. A pale gleam emits from the slender, slightly cured blade resting invertedly in his left, his main focus is to shield Loreanna from the danger ahead ..- for now.

Iavoe does not hesitate in his next action, though it may not be what one might immediately expect. Taking in the sudden ambush in an instant Iavoe's training comes to the forefront. His first reaction must be an attempt to reduce the usefullness of the crossbows carried by the bandits as Iavoe fires the bolt from his own, still deep in the shadows. The target is easily seen though, as Iavoe fires the bolt directly at the small fire in an attempt to scatter it, perhaps even largely extinguish is as it's pieces fly apart and into the snow, at the least hoping the sudden change in lighting might provide a distraction for the others to act.

Ciaran lets go of his horse's reigns the moment the surprise attack begins and with the right hand now free, he unsheaths the sword from his side in one swift motion. With the shield still covering a good part of his frontside, Ciaran takes a couple of small sidesteps closer to Loreanna's left side, attempting thus to leave the horse as a protective shield for his own left side.

Given the tattered mix of men that seem to consist mostly by rugged men with agricultural backgrounds rather than a hardened packs of brigands; still, they charge with necessity burning in their hearts; Caron growls as his club instead strikes into the Roshar's horse's flank, to whatever reaction this would result in; one of the men instantly fires off a bolt at Iavoe if yet with a hap-hazardous aim. Two of the men had attempted to circle the mass if horses with their crossbows held ready and aimed at Loreanna's front and at whichever may stand near her, horse or man [Caron]

"Mother's milk in a cup!" the scar-faced man cries, jumping back from the fire as it is scattered. Sparks fly up everywhere, singing cloaks, startling horses. One particularly large spark lands upon Loreanna's dress, setting a small, but slowly growing fire.

While looking at the men before her she moves to quickly take up a thick flow of Air and weaves it into a tight net. Her weave causes a wall of Air about 6 feet in height and three in a half feet in length so as to block any bolts that might be shoot at her or Roshar. She does not notice that her dress has just cough fire and continues to hold her weave. [Loreanna]

While looking at the men before her she moves to quickly take up a thick flow of Air and weaves it into a tight net. Her weave causes a wall of Air about 6 feet in height and three in a half feet in length so as to block any bolts that might be shoot at her or Roshar. She does not notice that her dress has just cough fire and continues to hold her weave. [Loreanna]

The club descends violently upon the grey fur of his horse, causing the trained animal to snort out angrily, feeling the tension to grow that late, smelling the foul violence poisoning the clear night's air. As Roshar's gentle, but firmly leading grasp release its reins, the newly gained freedom is used to kick out backwards, unsure whether this will hit the violator, or simply cast a cloud of snow back into the darkness. A black, seemingly shadowed form glides forwards, smoothly rising the gleaming length of steel in his hands as he circles around the front of his horse, intercepting the two men approaching from the front. With a quick, silvery slash of steel, followed by unaimed thrust, he faces the first man, still not stepping far from Loreanna. This maneuver seems more to be aimed to draw their attention towards himself, granting Loreanna additional time to prepare her weaving. [Roshar]

Were Iavoe not still in the shadows, clothes upon him darker still, the bolt might have ended his assistance then and there. As it is the powerful shaft drives through the man's cloak on his left side, beneath the absent left arm, with such force that it yanks the cloak backwards hard tearing the clasp from about his neck and forcing a sound of shocked choking for air for come from his throat. Iavoe is further put off balance as the cloak hauls at the scabbard weaved through a gap before finally being released from the crossbow bolt's grip. The tattered cloak not hangs uselessly from the swoard scabbard on Iavoe's back, his sounds giving away his position, and his balance not yet sure enough to draw the blade. Taking a breath to regain himself from the shock Iavoe pulls forth a black feathered dart from the strap over his chest, the tip poisoned to send a man into a deep slumber once taken effect, and readies himself to throw it at the scarred man near the fire as he stumbles to a new location. [Iavoe]

Ciaran's horse neighs loudly, stamping its feet nervously. Either it is too frightened by the men in all direction or it has been very well trained, for the horse does not instantly stampede off as might be expected. Still, it looks prone to bolt off soon. Ciaran takes further sidesteps towards Loreanna, trying to come between her and the men aiming at her. As Ciaran makes a quick sideways glance to check behind them, he catches the small fire upon Loreanna's dress. Eyes back forward, fixed upon the men, Ciaran attempts to kneel down to scoop some snow, and splatter that against the fire. With his main attention remaining upon the assailants, his attempt is not too accurate.

In the same moment that the two men had positioned themselves to aim at Loreanna, Caron had hurried around the myriad of fluttering capes and neighing horses, seeking a gap in the array with his club hefted at his side and with his teeth gritting in evident frustration; meanwhile, the two confronting men are now wholly busy to fend off Roshar's descending form, even though one cries out in pain as the steel strikes true, with the second having yet to react. "Shoot the horses!" Comes a startled cry from somewhere behind Loreanna and her shield of horses, the remaining two of the group hoisting their weapons in response; Caron had in the same moment crept around trying to find a gap to Loreanna. [Caron]

Aidan's mouth drops open as the cross-bow bolts fall well short of their target, seeming to hit a wall of air. His sword falls from numb fingers as he exclaims roughly, "Bloody ... I ask for a milksop noblewoman and her moron guards, and the fool sends me Aes Sedai!" He looks wildly at Loreanna for a moment, before whirling to flee into the darkness, screaming, "Run, fools! Run if you value your lives!" Meanwhile, the fire on Loreanna's dress spreads rapidly, eagerly eating up the delicate fabric, burning closer to her legs. If it is not soon put out, she will wind up with nasty third degree burns. Fortunately for the Sedai, Ciaran's quick thinking allows the fire to be put out in time. She may suffer from minor burns, but they are nothing a simple poultice won't fix. Aidan runs off randomly ... taking him past Iavoe.

Loreanna moves to keep her wall of Air up, wincing slightly but not yet really feeling the pain of the burns on her left leg. She drops her weave of Air and turns around to look at the other two from behind. Her eyes focus on the one to the right and she moves to take a flow of fire two fingers thick and directs it two their crossbow strings, burning them through.

The stainless white of glistening snow welcomes the colouring spots of liquid life that spray from the slashing weapon continuing its deadly dance in Roshar's hands. Fluttering towards his back, his cloak blows out in response to his steps, taking him away from the first, 1wounded7, right over to the second, still startled form. Hoping for his fate and that his first strike might have disabled his ability to shoot the crossbow, his blade lunges forwards, thrusting dangerously at the second man with the gleaming tip of his sword, honed with darkish blood. Loreanna situation for now is not gifted with his attention, hoping for his Brother to fill out this part, as he focusses upon defending the front.. [Roshar]

Iavoe seems rather surprised as Aidan flees in his general direction, but does not allow that unexpected boon to spoil his aim as he closes and launches the poisoned dart from somewhere betwen five and ten feet in distance?. The dart is aimed not at Aidan's head or chest but instead in the vicinity of his groin, hip, or rump (whichever happens to be facing Iavoe) and thrown with as much force as Iavoe's right arm can give it without spoiling the aim. Iavoe does not pause, continuing to move in Aidan's direction even as he looks back briefly at the man charging at him from behind. The dart thrown Iavoe's right hand moves quickly to slough off the black cloak as he runs, gaze shifting between Aidan to see if his attack struck and the man behind him to see if he is about to be attackeed.

Ciaran looks momentarily torn between running after the men or staying by Loreanna's side. Ciaran chooses for the latter. Now that there are no direct crossbows aimed at the woman anymore, Ciaran shifts slightly to the side, allowing the woman a better view of the surroundings, but he still remains very close, shield and sword poised at the ready. His eyes scan around the area fervently, seeming to expect another surprise attack to ensue any moment.

There are some amount of confusion mingled with an air of fear as the word 'Aes Sedai' breaches the evening air with its piercing context; were the duo of crossbowmen had intended to shoot at the horses they instead turn their tails to flee in the other way with startled yelps as their bowstrings are lit aflame by Loreanna's invisible craft. "Witches! Light have mercy!" Turning their tails they run in the other direction in a half-stumble; however, Caron had not yet heard the issued command, wholly intent on using his club for something useful. "Bloody witch! Finding a gap he charges at Loreanna with a primitive cry, hefting his club in a descending blow meant for her head even though Ciaran would most likely be in the way. [Caron]

The man having flanked Roshar's first victim falls into his own doom as the darkly clad man's blade severs air until delving into flesh, piercing his form through smoothly enough to ensure a swift kill.

Aidan grunts sharply as he takes Iavoe's dart to the groin. He stumbles, yanking the dart, before stumbling on at a somewhat slower pace. He manages this for about ten minutes (provided his flight is not stoped) before finally the drug kicks in and causes him to sink slowly to the ground.

The pain from the burns on her left leg begin to break through her heavy consintration in weaving and she drops all flows. She hears Caron's words but he is to close now for her to be able to weave in time to stop him or block him. She instead moves to take from within her sleaves her two daggers, ready to fend him off manually. [Loreanna]

Hisses of steam seem to crawl from the depths of Roshar's skull, as his heavy breath mixes with the chilled atmosphere of a cold winter's night. His efforts, his slashing and thrusting have caught a breeze slipping into his hood, pushing back the fine cloth of darkish fabric and revealing the cold, distant gleam that flickers deep within his green eyes. His expression, those deep features that seem to be etched beneath the thin layer of brown beard, does not even alter minimally as the razor sharp edge of his slender blade digs deeply into the soft flesh of his opponent. Returning into the open, full drops of blood drop to the ground, accompanying the tiny tendrils of visible heat that arise from his blade's coating. No time is wasted, as his motions once more melt into another attack, dismissing his former target to his fate and turning to finish what had begun with the first, already wounded man. [Roshar]

Seemingly satisfied as to Aidan's imminent future on noting the man is struck by the dart, Iavoe dismisses the fleeing man mostly, making sure solely that the fellow doesn't double back to attack him, as the man should be easy enough to track and find in the snow. Iavoe does not stop moving though, continuing to flee from the man charging after him (if the man didn't run off himself yet) while drawing the blade with his right hand from the sheathe upon his back. This does slow Iavoe enough that the following bandit could gain a fair bit of ground, but depending on how fast the man is he might not have chance to attack before Iavoe has the blade fully drawn and turns about to face the enemy. [Iavoe]

Ciaran allows Caron to come closer, using the assailant's forward momentum and careless charging to Caron's own disadvantage. With a quick step back towards his original position in front of Loreanna, Ciaran needs to do little to block the incoming club. His left arm shoots upwards and front, pushing the shield outwards protectively, letting the club crash against its wooden surface instead. Ciaran's arm wavers, a grimace adorns his face momentarily, but the man holds his ground. Underneath the shield, Ciaran's right arm brings the sword forwards, its tip directed precisely towards Caron's stomach.

The man that had originally shot at Iavoe is now running away from them all in the same fashion as all the rest, a fading shadow in the enclosing forest; the man that had only a split-second earlier been stabbed by Roshar is neatly finished off with only a brief pause spanning to an eye blink between the first blow and the second that ultimately ended his life. Caron's doom is also met in about the same moment, his eyes widening in disbelief at the blade that had sunk into his gut through Ciaran's aptness, life slowly draining from his face. All that would remain now would be the corpses, the brooding silence, and the occasional crack of the cindered wood scattered through the bloodied snow. [Caron]

Loreanna's arms fall down to her side, still gripping her daggers in both hands tightly. Seeing that Ciaran is dealing with the last man, Loreanna slowly turns around her and looks to see if there is anyone else left to defend herself from. She is openly panting, the channeling not having been easy in such preasure. Her heated breath coming out in large puffs of white air. She winces again and looks down, just now seeing what the pain at her left leg is from.

Slowly, the spinning veil of steel that had engulfed Roshar only a moment before slows down. The folds of his cloak settle down peacefully around his legs, not remembers the sudden outbreak of violence that stirred their silence. A darkish gleam emits from the stern Gaidin's face, snapping and sweeping across this display of madness. A pool of blood begins to form at his blade's tip, drawing a thin line that marks his path towards Loreanna. " You are alright, m'Lady?", he inquires, quickly sweeping his gaze across her being, looking for signs of injury himself. [Roshar]

Iavoe whistles sharply twice, the piercing sounds penetrating the night and signaling his stallion off in the distance to break it's bindings and come to Iavoe. Iavoe's voice bellowing out follows as he shouts after the fleeing man (that he knows of), 'Return and surrender if you wish to live, run and we will hunt you to the end of the world to see you dead!' though not expecting the man to actually do so. His shout is equally signalling of his presence to his allies though as he moves to find Aidan's trail.

Ciaran watches emotionlessly as Caron sinks to the ground. He yanks back the sword to free it of the victim's body, and as he poises it ready once more some drops of blood run down the blade's side and onto Ciaran's gloves. With the danger now finally seeming to be over, Ciaran glances towards Loreanna just in time to see the woman stammer weakly. Ciaran lets the shield drop instantly as he scoops the fainting woman into his left arm's hold.