Setting: 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.
All around, leaves change color and you'll hedges appear to lose their leaves, as the autumn chill starts to come forth. This area appears to be a bustle of activity as Trainees and Gaidin travel back and forth between the barracks and the courtyard, or as several lessons can be witnessed between student and master. Several Novices can be seen peeking into the practice area watching the training sessions when they should be off doing their chores or lessons.
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.

Players:
Celebril - Lord Elendril of Andor; Blademaster
Adriene - A Wandering Woman; Soon-to-be Novice
Aedigar - Trainee
Analee - Accepted of the White Tower
Diar - Minor Andoran Lord, Adventurer; Blademaster
Jelanna - Aes Sedai Novice

Analee follows, looking curious. "What's going on?"

Adriene moves to stand next to Analee, she smiles at her. "Aedigar is going to practice with those men."

Celebril strokes his golden-stubbled chin with a thumb and knuckles, idly watching Aedigar speak to his superiors. He as yet makes no move to prepare for any exercise... after all, the request has not yet been granted.

Analee nods, listening. "Hmm," she says, licking her lips amusedly. "It is always interesting to see the men spar." There is a mischevious twinkle in her eye.

Diar comes through the Courtyard entrance of the large wall surrounding the Practice Yard.

Aedigar finishes talking to the warder and heads back to the noble. "I'm sorry sir, but the Gaidin are to busy at the moment."

Celebril stands aside from the indigenous Tower crowd: Gaidin, trainees, even the observing Novices and Accepted. With him are two men in matching livery--scarlet coats and grey cloaks, and rampant eagles of gold upon their breasts. All three share a look of disappointment at Aedigar's news. "That is unfortunate, for me," Celebril answers, smiling, "But entirely acceptable. Ah well... there shall be no exercise this day," he sighs.

Wandering in almost absently, a tall copper-haired man -- yet another noble, by the looks of his silk coat and the two ivory-hilted, silk-wrapped swords he wears -- makes his way to the practice yard and just happens to move to the weapon racks. He watches quietly, and most of the gaidin ignore him: he is known, with a hint of begrudged respect and sneers. He pauses in the process of removing his coat -- "Exercise? Gaidin busy? A shame, not even Coerel." He speaks half to himself as he continues on with removing the coat.

Aedigar asks the noble, "Will that be all?"

One of the tall Andoran's two retainers taps his lord on the shoulder again--apparently, Celebril is on less than formal terms with his trusted men--and nods towards Diar. Eyes suddenly sparkling, Celebril answers Aedigar with a distracted "Perhaps," and turning, studies Diar with a quick once over. "Pardon me, my lord," he addresses the other nobleman.

Analee leans over to whisper in the younger girl's ear. She mutters to Adriene, "... quite a... Two..." She grins.

Adriene nods and smiles. She mutters to Analee, "... who do... win?"

Aedigar nods and backs off a bit anyway, looking ready to go join the women.

Analee grins, pointing to Celebril. She mutters to Adriene, "The noble... sword,... Even Diar cannot... there."

"No needs to beg pardon, I pray you," Diar says carelessly, setting his coat neatly on a hedge-branch. He glances again at the fellow, notes the cut and style of the man's coat, and proceeds to get his shrit off as he goes on, "Andor is it? What house? Not some obscure cousin of a cadet branch of Moderal, I hope -- I've too many of those."

Adriene shrugs. She mutters to Analee, "So,... just... yet,... to earn one."

Analee laughs lightly. She mutters to Adriene, "... to... them.... come... But... not... from..." She smiles wistfully.

Elegant golden eyebrow rise curiously at this comment from Diar, Celebril's lips twisting in an impish grin. "Moderal? Thank the Light, but no... though I'd not heard Liam's cousins had taken up... sailing," he adds, eyeing the man's knuckles curiously.

"Are you handy with those?" Celebril gestures, rather laconically, to the stunning man's ivory-hilted swords.

Aedigar decides he is no longer needed and wanders to stand next to the women, bowing to Analee, "Good day Accepted."

Analee nods to Aedigar, obviously interested in the exercise.

Adriene leans over to whisper in the Accepted's ear. She mutters to Analee, "Who is..."

The shirt removed, and tossed aside to hang on the branch with the coat, the tattooed hands are rather dwarfed -- sea serpents winding around the length of his arms, and his back -- if it weren't for the fact that it couldn't be removed, the Aes Sedai would long have found some reason to bar him from the practice yard with such a scandalous thing. He smiles in faint response,glances at the clan mark -- "Liam? I wonder how he's been of late..." As for the sword: he draws the shorter of the pair, slowly. There's more than one heron-marked blade in the yard at the moment.

Analee smiles happily and whispers back. She mutters to Adriene, "The... I'm... to bond... I... shy of... blademaster himself.... so..." She smiles and looks back to the fight, somewhat impressed by the combatants.

Celebril gives the too-beautiful Diar a friendly nod, waving off his men--he'll remove the scarlet coat himself, thank you. "He was well, last I was in Caemlyn. Girithlin, by the way," he remarks, twisting his torso--now clad in but a shirt of flowing grey silk.

Adriene smiles and whispers back. She mutters to Analee, "... to..."

Celebril getsures to indicate himself with a turning of palm toward his chest, as might an actor making a curtain-call. "Celebril Girithlin. And you are?" Drawing a long, slightly-curved blade, he steps back to allow a retainer to remove the belt from his waist.

Aedigar glances at Analee and Adriene as the talk amongst themselves before returning his attention to the fight about to take place.

The sabre within Celebril's grip bears a heron-mark, as well.

"Girthlin," Diar repeats for a moment -- starts to shake his head, then pauses in consideration as his shorter sword -- almost a mirror image of the other sword at his side but for the size -- is lightly tossed to his left hand and his right dras the longer: the herons grace both blades, the single curved edges clouded. "Queen's Guard was it?" Light banter, and his stance shifts only subtly -- the shorter blade is extended closer to Celebril than the longer, and he bows his head faintly.

Analee blushes slightly at the other girl's words. She brushes her long brown hair behind one ear and smiles. She mutters to Adriene, "... don't exactly... obvious... can help... not... with... suppressed."

"Once upon a time," Celebril answers with an airy laugh, rather like a schoolboy telling a tale. The two men with him exchange cautious smiles at Diar's memory, and it becomes apparent they are more than simple retainers.

"Now then," Celebril quips, a blithe smile gracing his elfin features, "Any rules? Flats only? First blood? Three touches?" He twists his grip, leading his blade through a suddne flashing series of twists and turns.

Jelanna comes through the Courtyard entrance of the large wall surrounding the Practice Yard.

Suitably loosened, Celebril matches Diar's easy stance with his own ready pose: knees bent slightly, left shoulder facing, sword back and parallel to the ground. "I favor first blood, myself. Silly Gaidin and their wooden sticks..."

Diar considers for a short moment -- "How gracious of you to give me the chosing," Diar replies to something Celebril has done or said, as both mean face each other, swords drawn. "First blood as well -- mind the face, if you will; my chances of getting married would be increased beyond tolerance." He begins to move, balanced perfectly, nothing distracting -- no twirling motions of his blade, the marks upon them silent enough testimony to his skill.

Aedigar looks to Analee and Adriene, "I hope you don't mind if I join you?"

Jelanna glances around as she enters the practice yard, her golden gaze slightly pensive until it comes to rest upon the Accepted Analee. She makes a graceful curtsy before her and asks with a arched brow "May I sit?"

Adriene shakes her head and smiles. "Not at all, I would love for you to join me."

Analee shakes her head. "You may sit down if you have no chores to complete, Trainee. Same for you, Novice."

Celebril inclines his head just slightly, his own steps now of a sliding fluidity, circling slowly to his own right, blade above his shoulder and yet parallel to the practice ground's dirt surface. "Fair enough, and likewise; I'll save the pain for silly fops who mind their faces, but *not* their swordsmanship."

Adriene frowns at Analee. "I don't know, am I one yet?"

Aedigar shakes his head, saying he has no chores and sits down.

Analee shakes her head to Adriene. "No, you have yet to finish speaking with Lanta Sedai. I am sorry she was called away, but she will call you at her first convenience."

Adriene bits her lip and nods. "Oh, alright. I'm just so confused by everything."

Jelanna nods and settles her skirts around her as she sits, apparently not having anything pressing to do at the moment. She glances at the two men circling around each other, her brow arched slightly.

Seeming to glide forward -- motions of his feet so smooth as make one think they manage to not even touch the ground -- Diar moves towards Celebril. A silver flash of the longer sword as is cuts shortly then slides forward and away, probe and test doubly; then the shorter one moves lazily if it were done more slowly, warding him. "Quite glad that I've found someone of like mind," Diar murmurs with a faint, careful grin.

Analee pulls all of her hair over one shoulder, leaning back against her bench. She smiles and gestures to the practice yard. "Just watch two artists at work. It isn't often that you will have the luxury of free time to enjoy such a display."

Adriene nods and focuses her attention on the two men. "If you say so."

Aedigar is too entranced by the combatants to acknowledge Analee at the moment.

Jelanna smirks slightly as she watches the careful motions of the two men. She glances at the Accepted and with a warm smile says "I must say it rather reminds me of the way two cocks would fight over who would rule the barnyard at my grandfather's farm." Her gaze travels over the forms of the two combatants and says "Although I must say, they do put on a better show." With that she settles back to watch the entertainment.

Celebril's answering smile fits his answering probing: sly, quick, and easy to miss if one weren't paying careful attention. The single blade darts in, meets the shorter sword of Diar's, leaps back to the longer--as if playing tag between weapons--and snaps back just as swiftly, just as snakily. "Do you think so? I've found the Cairhienin variety to be even worse than the Tairen breed of late."

Adriene frowns at Jelanna's comment. "I wouldn't like that, one of the cocks was always seriously hurt and had to be destroyed, they aren't going to hurt each other are they?"

Analee nods, leaning back, looking pleased. She remarks fairly loudly, "Still they had better be careful, for Healing is certainly not my forte." She shrugs, grinning, and adds more quietly, "But let us watch the performance. THey will not hurt each other badly, I think."

Aedigar glances to the girls as they chatter, a look that displays his annoyment at their talking which he believes doesn't describe the situation at all.

Diar pounces to press the attack even when all stands even, the light touches of blades are nothing like one might expect -- no longer is force and directness the key, but the finesse and strategy. The short blade is turned in his hand, dull-edge lying along his forearm as he slashes up, almost to Celebril's face; but the angle would nick a shoulder, if anything. Smoothly the muscles play under his skin, the serpents seeming to writhe in life as the longer now wards him as he dances away, partly spinning. "I couldn't stand either of them, just the same; no comment."

Celebril's motions come with the fluid grace of water: one moment a lazy river, the next a rushing waterfall. It is the waterfall that parries Diar's move with a clashing of steel that rings the courtyard, his laughter blended in. "Oh no, I have a personal distaste for one in particular--and would you guess what? I went and saved his life!" Drily, he adds this, the river lulling--and lashing out again toward the briefly-exposed underarm.

Jelanna's amber gaze follows the dancing movements as the two men spar. She glances towards Analee and in a low voice asks "They speak as they fight, that is a sign of great skill, no?"

One of Celebril's men begins singing a song, which the other quickly chimes in with. Then, lo and behold! Celebril sings with them, he leading, they providing the harmony!

			And when I turn the lights on,
			And see my lady dancing...
			I'm a lucky man...

This casual absurdity, even as he fights, seems to match the golden-haired Andorman's quirky, impish grin.

"Life," Diar mutters as he twists, blade narrowly missing him, being guided further away with a dexterous tap of the short sword as he coils back, "plays its little jokes, does it not?" Then he uncoils, strikes like the fabled creature that Farstrider wrote of -- swift enough to defeat the hooded snakes that are deadly -- sword thrusting forward with wrist turned to try and nick even as he moves through a letter-perfect disengagement.

Analee watches with interest, but certainly not envy. Swordfights were designed to give women a beautiful show of strength and masculinity. Fantastic to watch, but not exactly something someone would want to participate in. She licks her lips thoughtfully, watching the dance. She smiles at Celebril's song, then turns to Jelanna. "Note the heron-mark swords, Novice. That is a sign of great skill, if the current dance does not signify enough."

Adriene frowns. "Um, just who gives out these heron-marked blades?"

Aedigar waches the movements closely, trying to pick out forms so he might become better himself from watching the two blademasters.

Jelanna nods, filing the information away. She asks quietly "And the other, does he not have these heron marks? He seems as skilled?" She nods along with Adriene's question "How does one go about getting the marks?"

Celebril answers the elborate strike with the oldest defense known to Man: he is simply not there when it comes. His blade is, though, catching Diar's with an upward tap even as he evades with a graceful slide to the left. "So it does. My favorite joke is called Murandy," he answers with a charming grin that even matches Diar's own, if a different, more masculine charm.

Laughing lightly, Analee shrugs. "I am uncertain. Others with the herons, I suppose. I never wanted one myself, so I never asked. I think it is almost a brotherhood type thing with men. They choose from amongst themselves. But even if they lie and steal such a sword, it is suicide, for some other will call the bluff and kill such a one."

The stockier of Celebril's two 'retainers' nudges the other, and points toward their lord--and friend's--feet with a sly grin. Both begin laughing, and their background singing dies in their good humour.

"Wise woman," Diar murmurs without glancing to Analee as he then bows with a flourish of blades. "And yes, the Murandian's are quite amusing..." He moves to circle again, careful -- and offers his own song:

When as in silks my Darling goes,
Then, then (me thinks) how sweetly flowes
That liquefaction of her clothes.

"Do you know that one? Quite like it."

Celebril tosses Diar a wink as he answers, "Well, yes, though if I finished it for you every Aed Sedai," he moves, with surprising speed, "..in the Tower.." blade whirling left, "..with half a mind.." down, upward-slant, "..for decency.." and twisted backhand to catch the shoulder, if he can, "..would have my head!"

Verbal response delayed, Diar dances quite near to the dangerous edge of his opponents sword -- his own two blades greet and rebuff, his arms and body moving to guide away, circling, swirling -- Then the laugh held in check is let free after a split-second pause and he rejoinders with the attack. He doesn't banter, now; his sword does all the singing for him, as the air is shredded in his dual attacks, risking being blooded by depending on speed and grace to draw him away from danger.

Analee cannot help but be amused at the two men's conversation. She grins at the song, looking at her Novices with amusement. She shifts slightly, rearranging her skirts, her eyes not missing a single point, thrust or parry as the men swirl and circle about each other.

Adriene focuses all her attention on the two men as they dance about the yard.

Aedigar copies Adriene's pose

Celebril's style, in contrast to Diar's, is reliant upon speed--but not built around it. Rather the swiftness of his strikes--and now, a ringing parry--seems an artist's gentle touch, a stroke to complement his slender body's fluidity. As if in silent echo of the other blademaster, he too falls quiet as he bobs his head left, and thrusts right.

Adriene leans over and whispers to Analee. She mutters to Analee, "... that... where... take a..."

Not so different -- only in the press perhaps the difference, when Diar risks more with a grin, gambler that he is, when he could do quite as well otherwise. Yet still. Diar is for a scintillating thread in time thrown off by the slight bob, begins to move nearly onto the thrust. Only the speed of his hands in using the shorter sword -- size now explained, for the speed that more than makes up for its lack of reach -- saves him, tipping aside the mere quarter inch needed to again disengage with a final unlikely attempt at a leg -- "Hold, enough, eough," he says with hilarity in his voice, his eyes. He holds his arms up, then sheathes the sword with elegance. Then he applauds. "Marvelously done, Girthilin -- you would be one I wouldn't mind being able to name kinsman. That bob -- ahh, very nearly." He sounds trly pleased at the close match, the nearness he came to losing which his opponent Celebril did not suffer.

Analee nods and smiles as the girl whispers to her. She mutters to Adriene, "... It... something restricted... Sedai... bond..."

Celebril's blade finds it sheath as easily as it might have flesh, had his opponent not shown so much skill--and so he says as he firmly grips Diar's tattooed forearms with a broad grin. "Ah, but I so hate the defensive forms," he shakes his head in disbelief, "..and thrice I resorted to The Owl Sleeps At Daybreak! Thrice! You are skilled, Moderal."

Adriene nods in response to Analee, she smiles broadly. She mutters to Analee, "... wonder... them... like... be... home... say... caught... I... the... of all my..."

Analee blinks at Adriene in disbelief and then laughs. She shakes her head, even as she laughs, looking rather amused. She mutters to Adriene, "... Folk... he... been spoken... Andoran lord, he is not... and will... You will be... at least before... option, and... be others..." She smiles.

Adriene frowns. She mutters to Analee. She then smiles. "But I might be able to find him later."

"Was that what it was?" Diar asks suddenly rather still and quiet. Then says, with hint of a moments smile, "I thought it rather you were but clearing the air of troublesome mosquitoes, so little did I phase you." Then he allows himself a slight chuckle, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin making him almost luminous; though it also makes the serpents seem more alive, which isn't pleasant. "What inn have your men foolishly settled you in? I've not seen you at the Flaming Arrow -- or perhaps simply different times of activity?" A possibly knowing grin.

His retainers supplying his scarlet coat and swordbelt--they seem to be everywhere about Celebril, slapping him on the back and laughing--the goldenheaded young lord smiles rogueishly. "Different indeed. I sleep there, and that's the end of it. Perhaps we may share a drink sometime--and only a drink! I've sworn off certain other indulgences."

Analee giggles, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. She mutters to Adriene, "... ten... you do... Aes... if... make... with... to... shrewish..." She examines Celebril and giggles again.

Jelanna gives Celebril a thorough once over as if committing certain things to memory before joining in the conversation with the Accepted and the other novice. She smiles slightly before asking Analee something in a low voice.

"Beside that," Celebril adds with a sardonic grin, "I'll doubt the ones who swoon over your tattoos would have wanted a clean-cut knight, even when I was in my--ah--less discriminating stage."

Adriene sighs. She mutters to Analee, "... you are..."

Diar moves along to his own coat and shirt, quickly donning them-- neglecting to lace or button, but at least the twining sea serpents are hidden. "I couldn't possibly know what you allude to," Diar replies as he takes the time to straighten his coat somewhat, glancing over at the women who are even now making sure that Celebril is on their 'No discrimination necessary' lists with a decidedly knowing expression. "But I am hurt that you should think I lack in discrimination." A long pause, and then he adds deadpan, "It's true, though." A brief wink, a sweeping glance over the women as they whisper as if he's searching.

Jelanna mutters to Analee, "So... Accepted... Bond?" Her eyes sparkle wickedly as she sneaks a glance at the two men.

The stockier and rather more fun-loving of Celebril's paired retainers chortles, shaking his head almost regretfully. Casting a glance to the women, he looks back to his fellow and whispers, "Shame the lord's ... ... to ... beautiful ... Sydnia Saldrian, eh? ... ... Cairhienin ... keep him ... from them! ... for us!"

His friend laughs at that, grinning eagerly.

Aedigar gives a start and comes back to reality, having been entranced by the dance between the two. He turns to the women and observes there conversation for a moment before getting up. Deciding they wouldn't like his interuption, Aed gets up, bows to the women and heads towards the barracks, intending to retire.

Celebril finds himself laughing at Diar's quips and behavior, waving the fellow off with a good-natured dismissive gesture. "You're worse than Liam! Go on, I'll see you soon," he laughs, striding away, his men falling in behind him.

Analee looks between the two other girls. "You sillies! You are only Novices," she laughs. "There will be no such lessons until you are Aes Sedai..." She giggles into her hand, "And even then they will be in no rush to teach you. So behave!"

Celebril passes through the entrance of a large wall, leading to the Courtyard.

Jelanna watchs Celebril leave and after sighing slightly she says "Pity..."

Bowing with a rather amused flourish -- to cover up an instant's difference in expression -- Diar watches the fellow nobleman go... and then takes a deep breath to let it out strongly, taking a kerchief from a pocket and wiping his brow. Glancing at the ladies ... he decides to move towards them and comment, as if he were already a part of the conversation, "Quite skilled, isn't he, ladies? A choice Warder, no doubt -- Certainly better than these emotionless Shienarans and such that keep popping up like rabbits."

Adriene sighs as she watches the two men leave.

Aedigar is a little disgruntled that he received no parting words from the girls. He passes through the door to the barracks

Aedigar pulls open a small side door to the Barracks, leaving the Practice Yard.

Analee raises an eyebrow at Diar. "I'd say there are some who might find you a choice Warder, but then, we shouldn't speak of such things, now should we?" She winks playfully at him, then turns to the Novices. "Chores?" She asks, almost sternly.

Adriene shrugs at Analee's comment.

Jelanna's expression becomes faintly amused at the other man's interest in their conversation. Her golden gaze does sparkle with mischief though as she says "Yes, he would make a fine Warder....such a talented swordman. I was rather amazed at the use with which he could put the blade." She smirks "Of course, you weren't half bad yourself." She nods to the Accepted and says "Yes, Accepted Analee. I'm sure I can find something to occupy my time." With that she stands and saunters toward the courtyard, grace of movement in every step.

Jelanna passes through the entrance of a large wall, leading to the Courtyard.

Adriene rises from her seat and heads out toward the courtyard.

A light chuckle, and Diar smiles at the words as he watches Jelanna go with more than passing interest. "One wonders if they aren't worked too hard -- yet it does keep them shapely -- to say, in shape." Then Adriene, and Diar sniffs faintly as he looks about -- "No doubt you're off to oversee them? Really, as if they were four-years-old -- Ahh well, I shouldn't speak too much. The hedges have ears, whatnot." His rambling is almost pointless, but the words themselves really aren't; and he is cautious, because he does search around before chuckling at some thought.

Laughing lightly, Analee shakes her head. "I have no need to oversee them. They are certainly not children. But you seem to appreciate that quality about them already." She raises an eyebrow. "But really, haven't you better things to do than flirt with Novices? You distract them so." She smiles mysteriously.

Adriene passes through the entrance of a large wall, leading to the Courtyard.

Diar arches a brow for a moment, before smiling crookedly. "Do I? I hadn't noticed -- They seemed quite taken with Girthilin, however. Interesting, what at-- Well. Not something of public matter, I suppose." And then amends, "I should hope." The kerchief he tucks away, looking about again -- not having realized that for a time even Warders watched himself and Girthlin display their bladesmanship; a very few look on with what could almost be characterized as jealousy, and hunger -- to prove equal or better.