Date: May 9, 2001
Logger: Brannon
Location: Practice Yard: White Tower, Tar Valon
Players: Brannon and Zannick
Summary: Brannon arrives at the Tower to begin his training

Practice Yard: White Tower, Tar Valon

The practice yard appears to loom before you, lined in a perfect square by various tall shrubs and hedges. You'll notice that the center of the practice grounds is cleared of any grass or trees, forming a hard, packed-dirt arena. By the barracks, you'll notice several stands holding various practice weapons for the Trainees to use during their training sessions. There is also a rack holding various forms of armor, used to help protect those within a session.

Snow appears to cover the ground, though there is an area cleared for the trainees to practice in, to acclimate them to all weather conditions in their training. The sun slowly sets below the horizon, painting the sky in various pastens of pink, purple and even a light orange. Soon, you can see the stars above starting to shine down, showing off all their splendor.

There are two exits out of the practice grounds. One exit leads into the barracks which house the guards, Trainees and Warders. The other exit leads out into the courtyard of the Tower grounds.

Contents:

Zannick

Obvious exits:

Barracks Courtyard

A young man with Andoran features strides quietly into the practice yard. A traveller's pack is slung over his back and his clothes look somewhat dusty, as if he had come straight to the Tower after arriving in the city. He glances around as if looking for something or someone.

There are a few trainees still practicing, though the shadows are growing long, and one or two Gaidin. Zannick is just walking out of the practice circle, followed by a trainee, his breath hanging in the air and he goes over to where the book lies protected in the tall podium like box, to record the lesson. his eyes lift to look around the yard, and settle for a moment on the Andoran.

The Andoran's eyes fall on the man writing in the book. After a brief moment of hesitation, he approaches him and makes a sketchy bow. "I have come to train here if you allow me, Gaidin." His voice is strong and unwavering.

Straight as a cedar, and shooting up tall to 5'10, reasonably tall even for a Tairien, which this young man's looks smack of, Zannick has the sort of strong hands that handle the reins of even the most onery of mounts with smooth, confident expertise. His arms are sturdy, and the knotted cording in his biceps and forearms shows well formed under his smooth brown skin with each bend of his arm. Not a bulky man in spite of his obvious physical fitness, Zannick would be more likely to be described as 'trim'. His legs garbed in loosely tailored black breeches, a silver belt buckle gleaming discreetly from the front of the waist, the length of Zannick's stride, a side-effect of his height, probably makes him fairly quick on foot, though he obviously prefers horsemanship by the spurs on his shined black boots.

Stormy blue eyes, capable of being cloven with dark flashes of lightning when angered match the color of the short sleeve shirt he wears, the left breast pocket of the garment twined with arabesqued black embroidered filaments in which his family's crest is cradled. However, with a pleasant and laid back expression inhabiting a reasonably handsome face on most occasions, there's no reason not to believe 'Zan' the consummate 'nice guy'. His dark hair is styled in one of the latest fashions, it's smooth black walnut colored locks falling in varied length layers, and needing to be brushed off his forehead frequently. In the left-back one portion is a few inches longer, and captured into a narrow braid which lies along the back of his left shoulder. Occasionally, this braid is decorated with a small bell, Arafellin style. A rugged looking buff leather coat, fringed at arms and across the back is worn loosely open over his shirt falling to mid-hip on the trimly built Tairen, and looks a little bit like something a trapper or hunter might wear.

The gaidin is young enough, dark of feature, Tairen if one knows their southlanders, though there is the matter of his odd little bell decorated braid, and Arafellin custom, not tairen. He looks up at the young man addressing him and folds his hands easily on the podium. "Light Shine, What is your name?" he says easily.

The Andoran does seem to notice the braid and the dark features, but doesn't comment. "Brannon Kincaid." He shifts his pack slightly to rest over his other shoulder.

Zannick closes the book and the cover of the podium and steps around it, smiling in a friendly fashion, unlike the reputation gaidin have for being stone faced, looking the young man over. "You are from Andor? Would you tell me why you wish to train with us? What do you hope to gain? And give?"

Right into the interview....

Brannon nods slowly, "I used to live near New Braem. I came here because I feel I can be of use fighting against the Dark. I hope to gain training so I can do that better and all I have to give is myself." There doesn't seem to be much hesitation in his answer, only determination.

Zannick rests his thumbs in the corners of his pockets. He can't be much past his mid twenties from his youthful appearance. He nods slightly, taking another look. "Have you had any prior training with the blade, Master Brannon?"

Brannon nods a little, "I have had some. I travelled with a former guardsman for a year before coming here. He taught me what he could in that time."

Zannick smiles and nods then, taking two steps around the young man and picking up two practice blades. he tosses one in Brannon's direction. "Well let's see what you've learned from him, shall we? How old are you anyway?"

Brannon catches the blade in one hand and gently sets his pack off to one side. He takes a few practice swings before answering, "17, Gaidin."

That must have been the right answer. Or not the wrong one, for the young gaidin nods, with a easy grin. "17. All right then." he takes a guard stance, presenting one side of his body, his blade protecting it. "Let's see your offence, Brannon."

Brannon licks his lips quickly before rushing in with an upward two-handed slash from his right to left.

Zannick watches the form, the angle and posture of arms, the grip, and footwork, even as he's hopping backwards one smooth pace, and bringing his blade as if to parry, and at the last moment, curling the tip around and under Brannon's, shoving it away high, perhaps trying to get him to overswing. He does not counter though, and waves a hand to come again. Just testing where the boy is at perhaps.

Brannon brings his blade back down into a defensive stance for a moment before moving in again, this time with a plain thrust. At the last minute, however, he flicks his blade sideways in an attempt to knock yours away while his other hand balls into a fist and tries to punch you in the stomach. He was trained by a guardsman after all. Not the most well-known for their finesse.

Not bad. At least the yougn man has some idea what deception is about, and that the sword is not the single weapon one is armed with. Zannick adjusts his defense to circle the sideways flicking blade with grapevine twines, locking the blades together, and out of the way while his arm sweeps down in a smooth blocking motion. They teach gaidin a little of everything it seems. He steps back then and nods, "Not bad. I see you have a few tactics learned. Hopefully, there are more good habits learned than bad to unlearn. You do realise this program produces the best swordsmen as a group anywhere because it is hard. There will be few holidays. Days start early and end late. Sedai will tell you to do things, and you'll do them, no matter what else you may have been doing. Does this sound like... fun, Master Brannon?" He says this mildly enough.

Brannon shakes his head, "Not at all, but I am used to long days. I was often up before the sun when I lived in Andor." He regards Zannick calmly for a few moments before adding, "I'm not here for fun, Gaidin."

Zannick tosses his own practice blade at Brannon then, "Would you put those where they go please?" is asked as he turns on his heel and goes back to lift the podium lid and take out a sheet of paper, on which he starts to calmly write, waiting for the young man to do as asked, perhaps just to see what he will do.

Brannon catches the second blade in his off hand a little awkwardly, but he manages to keep from dropping it. He looks around the yard for a few moments before finding the rack and replacing the swords. After the practice swords are put away, he strides back over to where he left his pack, but leaves it where it lies for now.

Without looking up, Zannick motions with his hand to come over to where he is writing, "I am writing out the order to have a bunk in the barracks prepared, Master Brannon. Have you possessions you must gather and bring here?"

Brannon picks up his pack and moves to stand beside you, "No, Gaidin. All I own is right here." He pats his pack gently. Apparently, there's something fragile inside, judging by the way he treats the pack.

Zannick smiles, finishing his written instructions and looking up to regard the boy again, "If you have any steel.. knives, daggers, blades, you will need to turn it in. It will be stored for you till you complete, or leave the program, but trainees are not permitted to carry weapons beyond the practice without special permission. Do you have anything to turn in?"

Brannon opens his pack and pulls out a simple, sheathed belt knife. He offers it to Zannick hilt-first, "This is the only weapon I have. Jonas wouldn't let me keep his sword."

Zannick nods, his small braid making a soft sound as it bumps his shoulder, and takes the offered beltknife, then making a note on the paper of it. "All right then. I believe you are set. There are a few rules and other things you'll need to know about. I'll have one of the sworn fill you in on that, and we'll review in a day or two. They will be setting up your bunk in the third room from the last in the barracks. You may take your things there now, if you wish. Do you have any questions for me?"

Brannon shakes his head, "Not at this time, Gaidin."

You pull open a small side door, leaving the Practice Yard.