Rialt Erydinan
Age :: 220
Hair Color :: Blonde, long and usually held back by a loose band
Eye Color :: Sky Blue
Height :: 6’ 3”
Complexion :: Tanned
Build :: Strong, muscular, but not massive
Disposition :: Uncaring, laid back, and calm. Hard mannered and very humorless to strangers.
Social Class :: Peasant
Status at the Tower :: Former Rei al'N'dore al'Mordero, Former Mahdi al'Tain (Seeker of Truth), current M'Hael
Allegiances :: the Amyrlin, as well as his brothers in the Black Tower. But he still secretly pledges himself to Andor and its Queen as well.
Significant Relationships ::
Daughter Cayana Alhi
Lover Lyla ay’Yam
Bonded to Kiren Thym
Mentor and Friend to Edeleas al’Kuar* (see paragraph relating)
Talents :: Healing (Strongest healer at the tower), Warding
FIRE: (8)
EARTH: (9)
SPIRIT: Ridiculously Strong (+10)
AIR: (9)
WATER: (7)
Total :: 43/50
Strength in One Power :: 114 Strong original strength :: 65 + 10 as Soldier + 15 as Dedicated + various spurts of practice = 114
Rialt stood on a somewhat massive rock, and surveyed the scene that was being laid before him. Below, members of the Shen al'Aman Val carried on a mock battle for his own former group of healers. Even though he was not the Rei al'N'dore al'Mordero anymore, he still made time to teach and participate, if ever so rarely. The basic idea of this particular exercise was to injure someone, stick him in the midst of a battle, and have his own Shen al'N'dore al'Mordero make their way, unharmed, to the man in distress and heal them before they died. The catch was, if they didn’t make it in enough time, that person was effectively dead unless he himself intervened and healed them, which he always did when he was in charge. Rialt was a hard man, and he believed you needed to be hard on those you were training in order for them to become the best they could. He had never raised a man into his ranks whom he would not trust with his own life.
He closed his eyes in earnest, 2 minutes left until the point of no return, and Canyale (a Dedicated), had not yet made it to the dying Asha’man. As the seconds ticked down, he grimaced as he made the signal that he was going in. He darted into the midst of yelling, screaming, and clanging weapons and made his way to were he knew the fallen man lay injured. One of the Val took a stab at him, and he parried it easily with his own. Upon reaching Lindalin, whom had gone an almost pale blue, he gave a huge sigh of relief at the sight of his Mahdi. Wasting no time, Rialt leant down, delved into him quickly and wove the five elements that patched him back together. When the job was done, he helped the man up and signaled the end of the battle, and everything grew quiet around him in a matter of seconds, except the groans of those who needed attending to. He wove in and out of the crowds, with other Asha’man from his Shen, healing those who needed it, and finally came back out to face Canyale. He was to be the example.
“Dedicated, you just let this man die, if I had not been here to heal him, he would be beyond any help now. Even I cannot heal death.”
But if I could I would… “What do you have to say for yourself?” His gaze stared un-mercilessly down at the poor man, who looked as if he was going to be sick. Just as he had predicted, Canyale leaned to the side and retched, emptying his stomach of that morning’s breakfast. It was an embarrassment all N’Dore aspirants strove to avoid. The shame of almost allowing someone to die during a training exercise signaled more strongly than any other thing that he was not yet ready to become Asha’man…not at least until he could finally perfect the skill, focus, and determination required to join the Guardians. “Straighten up Dedicated, you’re Mahdi just asked you a question!” He heard Lindalin, his long-time friend and second in command of the Dancers of Death yell at the sickly man before them. “I…I…”
“You
WHAT Dedicated!?” He interjected loudly. “You just LET Lindalin here effectively die, you have failed your task. In my eyes, and the eyes of all those who stand witness today, it is obvious that you are unworthy to hold place amongst these future Asha’man.” He motioned to the line of Dedicated and Soldiers who had lined up to watch the scene. Reaching out he ripped the silver sword pin attached to the man’s high collar and threw it to the floor. “Consider yourself officially removed from the Black Tower.” A collected gasp rose amongst the men. This had never happened before. “Collect your belongings and leave immediately. Don’t ever let me catch you within sight of these walls again.” And with that he turned on his heel, whilst the poor Dedicated looked after him in horror. No doubt he was on the verge of panic, every thought bent on the idea that he had been put out of the Tower, his life as Asha’man over, his work wasted… though luckily for him that was not the case. Rialt needed an example, and unfortunately for Canyale, he was it. In a few days time, he would send Lindalin to fetch the man back with an apology and a message that he was to continue his training as Dedicated until he could prove himself worthy of Asha’man status. It would not take long, especially after the embarrassment. Sometimes, you had to break a man in order to harden him.
“Must you be so hard on them Rialt?” He turned his head to regard his old friend. He had been walking for about five minutes when the N’Dore caught up to him. “If I am not hard on them, no one will be. They are our defense Lindalin, they must not falter. I am sorry to have had to do that to the man, but it was necessary. Besides, I figured
you would be mad at him, he almost let you die.” Lindalin grimaced at Rialt who couldn’t help but chuckle.
Being the Mahdi al'Tain was not an easy job for anyone, but Rialt took on the job willingly, believing it to be his personal quest to improve the Black Tower by whatever means he could. That opportunity presented itself to him as former Rei of the Death Dancers, and now, in service directly below the M'Hael himself. Lindalin parted, feigning that he needed to strengthen his wits again, no doubt with a good drink and a fine looking woman, he would fit in wonderfully with Laridian, the local lecher of the Black Tower. He shook his head and made his way to the White Tower. He found that its walls were much more hospitable and calming than those of the Black, and he wished to find solitude away from everything that had happened that day. Sometimes, everything seemed to be unbearable, and the only way he could relax again was to visit a bench situated in the halls just outside of the Library. He received quite a few bows and scrapes from the various Soldiers and Dedicated he passed, as well as from Novices and Accepted who knew him from his Healing classes. Then again, mostly everyone would have recognized him, it was important to know rank in the Towers, and that was harshly enforced. He ignored them all.
Upon reaching his bench he sat down before it, on the floor. It must have looked a sight to someone who had never been to this side of the Tower before, an Asha’man sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out before him, and his head tilted back in thought. But he didn’t care. The Librarians were kind enough to shoo away anyone who made to bother him. It always managed to bring him back before it all, back to a time when things were noticeably different, and life for him, was not nearly as dark and humorless as it was now. He thought back to before all of his duties, before the Tower had become his home, to when he was only a small child living in Andor with his mother and father. Rialt did not feel his 220 years in this world, not in the slightest did he feel like one of the fast approaching oldest in the Asha’man ranks, but he was constantly reminded of that fact by the questions he received from those newer to the Tower. Some of the more ridiculous ones asked if he had been an Asha’man during the Dragon Reborn’s fight against the Shadow. No, no that was about twenty years or so before he was even a twinkle in his mother’s eye, and as everyone knew…it had not even taken place in the world they all knew.
Then, he had been wild and carefree, constantly causing problems for his mother and father when he lived with them for so short a time. He lived in Caemlyn, his parents owned a reputable Tavern that had existed since before the Dragon, albeit only a few hundred years. It was a family owned business and they both ran it with complete honesty and fairness. He had one other sibling of which he was the youngest. His older brother Latham, was much more calm in nature than he himself was at the time. He was the responsible one, always helping out their parents with work, and pulling his weight around the house, whereas Rialt couldn’t stand the confines of that life style, his resolve being that he had not choosen to be the second son of innkeepers. After a while, they left him to his own devices and he spent more and more time away from the house. Many a night he would come home with cuts and bruises adorning his body. He would fall asleep on his bed and when his mother came in early in the morning to wake him, she would ask him what had happened, and he told her not to worry about it. Truth be told, he found himself attracted more and more to the Honor Guard and its practice yards. He would parry with the more experienced Guards there, and eventually he came to the realization that he wanted to join their ranks, even when he knew that he was no match to any of them.
At the age of sixteen, he informed his parents of his intent, and they gave little protest to his request. After all, that kind of life style seemed to suit their son, whereas Latham was going to take over after they died, and actually showed interest in doing so. So they gave him their blessings and he enrolled the next day. He remained there, in the guard, for close to thirteen years. He eventually became a skilled swordsman after rigorous training by the best teachers he could find willing to teach him, and earned the rank of Captain within the Queen’s Guard. He progressed with the assurances he might one day make it to Captain-General, but that was not to be his fate. It wasn’t a quiet time in the world; things were still reeling from the events the Dragon Reborn had set into motion. Nations, while having had united for the Last Battle, found themselves leaderless after Rand al’Thor disappeared, and the threat of the Dark One with him. So they warred individually, some eventually crowning with their respective leaders again, and others remained in gridlock with themselves, no true ruler ever being officially instated.
Rialt had even had the honor of escorting the prospective Queen herself for a few months before he was moved out to the front line, where his abilities could be used more effectively. Those loyalties in fact, were set in stone, and he loved his life in Andor, and most importantly, in her service. But things weren’t quiet; he found himself on many a battlefield in his thirteen years with the guard. There had been two women who held substantial claims to the Lion Throne, both almost equally supported by the houses, just as Elayne Trakand had been only a few years previous, and the struggle had finally moved onto the battlefield. It was during one of these many encounters that he first discovered his ability to channel. He was nineteen at the time, and Andor was thrown into the midst of a revolution, half of the nation split one way or the other.
Things had been driving on for days at a time, and countless Andoran soldiers on both sides had lost their lives. It was then that he, and surprisingly enough, the Captain-General found themselves being cornered by a group of Vemana’s men (Vemana being the opposing aspiring royal for the Lion Throne). The Captain-General, Ostvel his name was, rode up to Rialt who was fast being overwhelmed by the enemy after he had called the retreat. He was a proud man and mourned the loss of every man, large and small lost in the plight to gain political control of the region. “Get on you flaming oaf!” He screamed at Rialt as he gutted a man, and deflected a dismounting blow. His mount turned in rapid circular patterns, keeping itself from lashing out at the men it saw from its awkward vision. Turning once more, he offered his hand to the blood soaked form of Rialt, who grasped onto it firmly, knowing his life depended on the courtesy of his commanding officer. In a flurry of unexpected arrows, the horse was struck from a moderate distance, and it toppled over, the arrows snapping or jamming themselves farther into the side of its poor hide. He scrambled over to the fallen Captain-General, who lay crushed underneath the animals hulking mass, surely dead. But fate it seemed was kind to this man, he still lived, if only barely. It wasn’t merely just the fall that had almost killed Ostvel, but three arrows that had struck him; one in his shoulder, and two others in his side and upper right thigh.
For the first time in his short life, Rialt felt the stab of panic; he was going to die here. He was going to fail his Queen, fail his brothers in arms, and fail his General…..
No. He sat on the ground, straddling the form of his general, wide eyed and staring as his enemy seemed to close in on him at a record-breaking pace. Only one thought could force its way into his mind, only on thing was going to keep him alive. His resolve…he had come too far, done too much, to die in such a vain manner. No. He was not going to die that day, he would not allow the Creator to take his life. He was going to give it his best, and if he fell, he fell and he had done the duty he owed to Andor, and to his Queen. A barrage of thoughts rushed across his mind, each as different as the next. “Get out of here Soldier, go protect the Queen.” He only half heard his superior grunt at him. Still so gruff, but still so caring. The sign of a true leader. With a grim determination, he turned his gaze behind at the rushing troops, a glare of fire and new hatred in his eyes. How, through all that they had done to unite for the cause of the world, for fighting the shadow, could they betray the claim his Queen held on Andor!? How could they have become so ruthless, careless... of all that was supposed to be their land? They, all of them, were going to pay… Before him, Ostvel moved restlessly, pinned below his great warhorse, beginning to except the fate of death that surely lay only minutes away. Rialt rushed to pull him from beneath the animal that pinned him down so mercilessly, pulling the three arrows out with little care. A sickening scream issued from the old General; the pain must have been unbearable. Blood seemed to flow like a river from him, and he stared at the gaping wounds, torn asunder by ill-made arrows and careless shooting. How could he help the man..what was he to do..there was nothing. He couldn’t. He wasn’t a physician… he was not Aes Sedai.
Perhaps out of some unknown instinct, Rialt felt compelled to lay his hands upon the man before him. Perhaps it was the Creator himself, guiding Rialt’s hands and mind that day, to force all thought of battle, all thought of death from his mind. He was just a normal soldier, lost in the midst of a battle, yet without even a forethought of the situation he was in, he touched his general. He knew at that moment what was plaguing Ostvel, knew as if it was spelled out in front of him. Somehow he knew, though he had no idea how. He seized upon the force that seemed to be guiding him through those slow agonizing moments, and as the enemy let loose another volley of arrows, the cavalry of what should have been a small skirmish growing in closer, and closer until they reached the two barely moving forms. Like a ghost from out of the blue, they collided with an invisible wall, and fell to the floor just a few inches before they would have come upon and killed the two men. Ignoring the revelation, Rialt grabbed the horse, again trying to budge it enough to pull out his General. It seemed years before he felt some progress, and finally fell backwards as he was freed of the burden. He immediately opened the lid to a flask of water, and poured it over the wounds while he applied pressure to the bleeding holes, all the while, the confused and disoriented enemy around him seemed to struggle with an invisible force.
It remained that way for hours, the enemy too afraid to approach the wall that surrounded the two, and Rialt, who worked continuously, every thought bent on keeping the man before him from dying. Eventually, it happened that reinforcements arrived and drove off the assailants, but Rialt did not budge from his spot, the barrier as strong as ever. Years later, he found out that he had created a very crude shield consistent with a novice exercise with air. But it was strong, and he swore, that even whilst he had never had any previous training, that nothing could breach beyond his barrier except that of balefire. Had he not been so involved with keeping up the defense, the man before him would have been healed far more quickly. But Rialt labored on, and as night began to fall on the two, he finally stopped, sitting back on his haunches. He knew that he had healed the man, had healed him so efficiently that a limp that had plagued the man most of his life was forever removed from Ostvel’s walk. He was so utterly spent that he collapsed next to his general, and awoke the next morning to an extremely grateful superior…albeit an equally baffled one.
After that he became a quasi on the spot physician within the guard, a valued asset to the Queen’s Army and its cause, though the healing was sometimes fleeting. Even though he was male, even though he used what had only been tainted forty years earlier by the Dark One himself; he was respected. Though all knew of the decree put forth years ago that he should have gone straight away to the Black Tower for training, they did nothing and so he stayed on, living his chosen life for ten more years before he was discovered. The Asha’man that had found him had followed rumors whilst they were on a diplomatic mission that led, eventually, and through much bribing, to him. He was told quite plainly that he could either go with them willingly, or unwillingly, whichever was necessary would be done. His permission was not needed. And of course he knew that. His crude mastery, or so he thought, over the Source was not nearly enough to overtake two Asha’man at the same time, and even more importantly, not worth it.
So he left the guard, with assurances from his men that he would always be remembered for what he had done in his service there. Before he left, he bowed before the Queen and swore his loyalty to her and to Andor, a bond that would remain with him for the rest of his life, though none knew of it later. Upon reaching the Tower, he excelled easily in the art of Healing and Warding, the two things that had kept him alive that day the Creator stood by his side. He stayed a Soldier for ten years before being raised Dedicated, that time in his life, rather uneventful and laborous. All of his time was consumed with learning the Power. It was then, as a Dedicated of the Black Tower that he met and fell in love with a servant of the White. Her name was Gennadi, and she could channel not a bit, but that didn’t matter to Rialt who was head over heels in love with her. He would steel away sometimes, when he was supposed to be in class or training, to be with her. Fifteen years later, he became Asha’man of the Shen al'N'dore al'Mordero, the Dancers of Death. It was said that he was the strongest Healer the Tower had seen since the Breaking, even more powerful than the famed Nynaeve Mandragoran who had done wonders in her time, even finding a cure to stilling. It was a natural choice for him to go with the N’Dore. A year later, he shocked the men and women of the Tower with an announcement that he was to be married, and to a non-channeler no less.
It was not a common thing, for men or women of the Tower to wed. It was understood that they had sacrificed their lives for the service of the Tower. But it was not forbidden, merely discouraged. But he didn’t care; she was a light in his life, she sustained him through all the difficulties of being Asha’man. So they were married in his 54th year of life, and she in her 35th. But the gap between them was illustrated as she grew older and older, and he changed not at all, his face a mask of agelessness. He kept in touch with his brother, Latham, who had taken charge of the Tavern where he grew up and was invited back to Andor to see him again. So he went, taking Gennadi, who was heavy with child, with him. Needless to say, his brother was dumbfounded by the knowledge that his younger brother was an Asha’man now; he had simply thought that Rialt was taking up residence in the Tower to learn something of the art of war from the Gaidin there, no matter how many years he had spent there. It made sense with his background in the Guard. It seemed his brothers ignorance had finally worn out, but he allowed them to stay, although he clearly made it known that he wanted nothing else to do with a male channeler, regardless if that man was his brother. Old superstitions...
The taint was gone, and everyone knew that, but the fear of a thousand years was ever prevalent, and so short a time could not erase its disasters from the minds of the people. So they returned to the Tower, Rialt angered at his brothers prejudice, and his wife worried over the encounter. Within a few days of arriving back however, Gennadi went into labor. It lasted for roughly fifteen hours, Rialt at her side the entire time. He did his best to keep her out of as much pain as he could, but with this kind of thing, it was a useless feat. Finally, she gave birth to a girl and in that moment, Rialt swelled with a pride that was surely unrivaled anywhere in the world. But it was a short lived pride he experienced as he realized the strain was so much for his frail lover, that her body was not able to handle the stress of childbirth, and especially at her age. She was dying, and he could do nothing to stop it, no matter what manner of weave he performed. Gennadi Erydinan died that night, and was given back to the Earth the next day through burning.
It was as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest, and forced to burn in the pits of Shayol Gul for an everlasting eternity. He clung to the fact that he still had his daughter, but loyalties within the Tower meant everything. He cursed his long dead parents for the sense of honor and loyalty they had instilled in him, and for the conscience that he retained from them in regards to his daughter. It was then that realized he could never be Asha’man
and a father. He berated himself for being so foolish, for knowing the risks and doing it anyway. He had been neglecting his duties as a member of the Dancers of Death. It was ludicrous, he realized through his mourning. He was a weapon, something feared throughout the world, and he found himself being ripped apart from the one thing he loved more than anything else. In those days, Rialt became a walking phantom, never smiling, and never laughing. Nothing, it seemed could ever make the man who had once been very optimistic and cheerful, feel alive again. He had given his daughter to his brother to be raised, for he could not have children with his wife, and they raised his own daughter in Andor as he continued on in the Tower. They did so reluctantly at first, wanting nothing to do with Rialt, but they gave in eventually, and took her in, severing all ties with him in the process. He was cut off, but, he told himself, at least she would have the life and happiness he could never give her.
So he went, often taking on the more dangerous and difficult assignments within his Shen, and made a reputation for himself as the embodiment of what an Asha’man aspired to be. On his 121st birthday, he was raised to Rei al'N'dore al'Mordero after the death of the former. He followed the life of his daughter from a distance, though she never knew that fact and he watched as she had her own children. But he retained the distance, no matter how strong the temptation grew to enter her life again. It wouldn’t matter if he did, his brother would deny it to his death, and she would never believe it…nor would she want to know that the man who was supposed to have loved her, had given her up. She died, years later at the age of 60.
It was inevitable that a man of his age was to experience a shift in power. The M'Hael died, and mysteriously close to that death, the Amyrlin Seat as well. They were quickly replaced as was the custom, the Amyrlin by Sapphira Calren a member of the Red, and the M'Hael, also a Red and her former partner now, Zekieal al'Kith. It was to his surprise however, when he was summoned to the M'Hael's study shortly after his ascension to power. He stood there, at attention and unfazed as he could muster. It was the first time he had ever interacted with the man as his M'Hael, all previous meetings having been formal and extremely brief. To his complete surprise, Zekieal asked him to become the Seeker, an honor that Rialt had never dreamt he would one day have, nor that he had ever fantasized about or wanted for that matter. But the opportunity was there, and his loyalty demanded that he serve to the best of his ability. He accepted, knowing he could fulfill his purpose to serve even more now than as Rei. So he gave up his title, and became the Black Tower's second in command, working directly underneath the M'Hael. And it was that he left behind his days as Rei and became the Mahdi al'Tain.
It was around this time, that the newly appointed Amyrlin chose her own second. Lyla ay’Yam became the Keeper of the Chronicles the same day that Rialt had been raised to his own position. In the years since his wife’s death, Rialt had also built a reputation for himself of being a bit of a ladies man. He did not seek a relationship for himself, those were doomed to failure with his lifestyle. All of the women he found himself with these days were beautiful, but all of them were one night stands. And it went on that way for years, until that is, he met Lyla ay’Yam a few weeks after they both had been raised. Something about her seemed to speak to his soul. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but note the fact that she was Aes Sedai and many many years younger than he was…she was not going to die, and she also was not nearly as ignorant to become with child. He would deal with that, he knew, as he had done so many years ago with an Accepted. He advanced on her one night, and stole a kiss that seemed at the time, to be too bold an action. For a week, she avoided any contact with him except when completely necessary. His mind a plague, he made his way to her apartments the night of one of many festivals, to speak with her about her actions, and about his feelings for her. She had let him in that night and perhaps in that small gesture had set forth the years of weekend rendezvous, anonymous letters, and hasty kisses…all in the name of a love both of them knew they could never fully indulge in. Never the less, they managed to keep their love for one another a secret from every person except that of his later Warder, Kiren Thym. (( Sidenote:: For more information about this relationship, refer to this thread
Click Me))
Kiren was also an unexpected blessing for him, his life shaped and formed by the women that he loved. Gennadi was a distant memory, but that short time was enough to mold his character forever. Yet even with a harsh exterior, he did manage to find those select few that he could trust. So deep was his distrust for that of the Shadow, and so often he felt his life in danger, that he began to search for a Warder. At the time, it was not a fairly common thing for an Asha’man to bond, and even rarer still to bond someone who also did not hold the ability to channel. Had Kiren, whom he had known when she was first brought to the Towers as a Wolf Sister, been an Aes Sedai…Rialt would have asked for a bonding anyway. And so they sealed the relationship a few years after their first meeting. Aside from the perk of having a companion he could trust, Kiren came to serve an entirely unexpected purpose. The only logical explanation for this relation, in the eyes of those around them, was that Rialt loved Kiren. And so, all assumed that Rialt and Kiren were now bonded because of that love. It was the perfect disguise, enough to fool all of the others out of ever believing that Rialt and Lyla were a match instead. (( For the detailed account of their bonding, refer to this full thread ::
Click Me))
Years later, it came that Rialt was faced again, with a reminder from his very distant past. Many many years ago, before Kiren and Lyla, had been an Accepted. She had been the first love that Rialt had dared to try after Gennadi had died, and surprisingly, for a couple of years…the love seemed to work, until one day she came to Rialt and announced she was with child. The first thought that came to Rialt was of how he had always wished for a family…more than anything else that was what he had wanted his entire life, but had been denied again and again. And then the reality of his situation hit him. He was the Rei of the N’Dore…she was Accepted. Not only was their love taboo, but it was forbidden by the laws of the Tower. He could be birched…she would be kicked out of the Tower. And so he approached her, perhaps more roughly than he had wanted to, and told her he could easily fix the problem. Sometimes the gift of healing could be a counter-curse as well. She fled the room, and the next day, was removed from the Tower for becoming pregnant. The problem was solved, and Rialt moved on from trying to pursue romantic relationships. This was not what the Creator willed him to have. But his past came back to haunt him many years later during a Tower held function, when he thought he glimpsed that same love from many years before. Out of a curious twist of fate, he discovered that this was not his former lover…but that of his daughter, and newly raised Mistress of Novices. That one could have gone so many years in the Tower without him noticing was a large feat indeed and he vowed that while he could never be the Father to her that he wished, he could at least attempt to have a relationship with her. ((For a detailed account of this refer to this entire thread ::
Click Me ))
Again also, showing his enormous change in attitude during the latter years of his life, Rialt became extremely fond of a Soldier named Edeleas, and eventually, he came to refer to Edeleas as his brother. The bond they held to one another was a strong one, and a friendship that strong benefited Rialt’s temperament well, and soon, he raised the boy to Asha’man, even when many warned him he still needed years to bolden up and shape. The morning after his raising however, Edeleas went missing, and remained that way for years. Eventually, Rialt gave him up for dead. Out of the blue one day though, the same man came back to the Black Tower and was re-admitted. But he was no longer the same person that Rialt had known from the boys time as a Soldier and Dedicated. He had become cold and he was now the shell of the man he knew once. Rialt swore to discover the reason behind the transformation.
************
Much of that was so long ago, although much had begun to plague his life since the distant memories he now held. He was devoted to his duties at the Tower, and would gladly sacrifice himself in service of it, but life had begun to gather intensity. It had been about thirty minutes since he sat down before the bench, and he knew he needed to get on to one of the advanced healing classes he made time to teach. So he stood up, wiped his mind clean and made his way down the hall to his destination, perhaps later he would have time to steal away with Lyla.
Afterward ::
After the dissapearance of the Black Tower's M'Hael, Zekieal al'Kith, Rialt was removed from his position as Mahdi al'Tain and prepared himself for a life of work on the frontlines. His healing talent was in high demand, but had been ignored for his service as Mahdi. In a strangely unexpected twist of events, Rialt's name was brought before the Hall as a candidate to replace Zekieal after his dissapearance. Such a thing had never been done before, of course. It was expected of Rialt to blend back into tower life, same as if Zekieal had been killed (though he believed the eccentric man's dissapearance stemmed from his tainted mind and demeanor), but this did not come to pass for Rialt, and he was named M'Hael after much deliberation. (for more information on this event, please see this thread,
Click Me )