((ooc: Sorry it took so long, I have no time these days! -_-;;; But yeah, figured I go as far as I knew, tell me if you want me to change anything, and... write back at your leisure! ^_^))

Today had probably been one of the more interesting days in his life. It had started out routinely enough- quick attendance to a few of his smaller duties as Rei, then a Gateway to the city of Tear, for some routine diplomatic glad-handing. The Tairens had still somehow managed to retain a few ter’angreal, even through all these years. Laridian had never understood what use they had ever been, except maybe as a bargaining chip with the Towers… well, that, actually, was reason enough. If a cellar full of moldering objects were enough to keep the world power from looming quite as much, it made sense to keep it. Still, it irked him that perfectly good ter’angreal were sitting in disuse, possibly deteriorating in whatever dank hole they were kept in. So, he routinely made trips to Tear, trying to curry enough favor with the High Lords to attempt at least a peek at their stores. It was fairly safe to say he was one of the few Ash’aman who made regular trips to the nation- even his fellow natives
were disenchanted with its feelings towards channelers. Thus, he was probably the only channeler of any importance in the area when the strange man appeared.

Certainly he wasn’t there when he appeared- he’d shown up at the docks, in a strange boat, and had been brought in for questioning by the Defenders. Laridian and his two ‘aides’, one a fellow Ash’aman from al’Dieb Cha, and another a Dedicated he had waylaid and was using for a clerk, were soon brought in as counsel. He’d heard few ideas of where he’d popped out from- a few eye witness reports had him appearing out of nothing, amidst a flurry of rumors that he had flown in on wings, or rode in on a fish, or some other such nonsense that got invented in the re-telling. Anyhow, it seemed the Defenders had been civil, only confiscating the supposedly Athan Miere boat and taking the man into custody. Likely they were too unnerved to do much more than regulations- Laridian himself had been rather shocked at the first sight of him. But then, who wouldn’t?

Laridian wasn’t sure if he was Athan Miere. His experience with the Sea Folk had been limited, and while he knew the women pierced their noses and ran chains from there to an ear, he had never heard of anything like the man before him. There were seven –SEVEN- silver rings pierced right into his neck, the dark skin raised slightly around the entry points. A chain ran through them. Light knew what it meant. He’d heard of some rank system among the Sea Folk women- if that applied here, he might be someone of fairly high standing. A quick look into his also startling eyes (the emerald color stood out well from the dark skin) made Laridian think otherwise. They were far too submissive, too accepting and confused to be the eyes of a leader. The confusion also made him fairly sure that the man had no idea what was happening to him. Maybe even had no idea how he’d gotten here. He’d heard of stranger bloody happenings. His clothes were really rather ridiculous as well. Billowy, bright yellow silk pantaloons? Girded by a light blue sash, and a pouch filled with something that made it look soft and slightly lumpy. Surely no one would dress like that and intend to be a leader of men. No, this one was definitely a subordinate, wherever he came from.

It took a while for Laridian to notice the tattoos- the neck rings drew heavily at his attention for a good minute, freezing his blank Ash’aman face. One on the chin trailing to the neck, and another starting right in the middle of his bloody forehead. No subtlety there, apparently. Light, what to do with this strange creature?

The Defender in charge looked away from the stranger and at Laridian with a frustrated look about his eyes.
“He won’t talk, sir. We keep trying to ask him his name, where he’s from, but nary a peep. Just sits there, lookin’ at us.” Apparently the quiet was starting to unnerve the Defender. Laridian gave him a “oh-I’m-sure-this-is-nothing-don’t-worry-I’ll-take-over-for-you” kind of smile, reassuring with an air of confidence. “Not to worry Captain. We’ll see what we can find out about him.” His fellow Ash’aman was reserved. Being largely a historical scholar, Laridian was sure he was cross-referencing the man’s dress, and especially his tattoos, with everything he knew from the Age of Legends. The Dedicated just stared. If he hadn’t had a little bit of training in decorum, he’d probably have his mouth gaping open. He sighed inwardly, and took a seat opposite the strange man, who by now, was looking at him.

Straightening his uniform (and running his fingers again over the gold embroidery now occupying his right arm sleeve-Light, that did feel good), he gave the man another reassuring smile, and sat relaxed, hoping he’d follow suit. No such luck. Ah well.

“So tell me, friend, how are you today?”

“……”

“…can you understand what I am saying?” No words, but Laridian saw at least a glimmer of comprehension in him. He had a basic idea of what was going on, at least. Now that he was working on getting the man to open up, he touched the source, planning to use a minor weave somewhat similar to the idea of compulsion. It was more of a physical loosening of one’s tongue. Loosen the body, make it relax, and the mouth will flow freely. But as he touched saidin, he felt a kind of echo coming from the stranger. He sat up suddenly, releasing the Void and abandoning pretense.

“Now, I want you to do me a favor,” he said to the man, face serious. “I want you to look,” he made a ball of flame appear in front of him, “at this.” The man jumped slightly and gave him a look of wonder, but he was not terrified like some were upon first seeing channeling. More like he was unnerved. Maybe this wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed it. Yellow-britches looked questioningly at Laridian, who merely motioned back at the ball of flame.
“Look into it. Concentrate on it. This is very important, I assure you.” In the back of his head he could feel the discomfort of the guards. He gave his fellow Ash’aman a significant look with a nod to the guards, and he preceded to softly inform the guards they were free to wait outside. They were glad to go.

They sat there a good twenty minutes, yellow-britches starting to sweat through nerves, or heat, or perhaps through the strain of finding saidin. The Dedicated became bored, but, being in the presence of his Rei and another superior, did his best to remain professional-looking and important. Laridian finally gave a warm smile, chuckled under his breath, and banished the flame. He’d finally felt the Source from the other man. He could channel. Yellow-britches was now under the official jurisdiction of the Black Tower. It was quick work to bundle him out- the guards were only too happy to get rid of them and the strange man all at once. It would be more difficult to explain to Yellow-Britches what was going to happen. Light, the man might not even know what an Ash’aman was. Still, he did his best to remain soothing and had his subordinate make the Gateway home. It was here that Yellow-Britches finally balked. Why, Laridian couldn’t say, but the bloody fool came dangerously close to slicing an arm off, trying to avoid walking through at the last second. It was when they got back to the Tower that things became slightly chaotic. Laridian kept attempting to work around to the man’s name, retaining the nickname “Yellow-britches” in his head. He’d seated the man in his office whilst he sent another Dedicated off to find a uniform for the strange one. He still said nothing.

“Are you mute?”

“……” No head nods, no hand signs, no body twitches.

“Are you deaf?” Nada. Zip. Zilch.

“Can you write down what you’re here for?” Silence.

“Are you looking for something?” Yellow-Britches at least shifted uncomfortably at that, and seemed a little more attentive. He glanced at Laridian’s sleeve again, then hurriedly looked away, hoping not to be noticed. Light, that had to be the tenth time he’d caught him looking at his right sleeve. He was starting to wonder if there was some remainder there from breakfast he was incapable of seeing. Maybe the man just liked the shiny thread, or shiny things in general. This was starting to wear on his nerves. When would that blasted Dedicated be back?

When the Dedicated finally made his way back, Laridian saw the man properly dressed and out of those ridiculous pants (though he made sure the man understood he’d get them back- who knew what importance he might attach to them) and sent him off to the Seeker’s office (since the Seeker was acting Master-of-Soldiers), with and Ash’aman guide who was to take him to his Soldier classes and explain the circumstances (as they were known, anyhow) to his teachers. He knew some of the Defense teachers might take his silence the wrong way. Better to give the boy a feel for the Towers. When he finally spoke he’d be used to the path he was stuck in. No point in pressuring him now.

His Dedicated clerk walked back in as Laridian began a brief sketch of the tattoos and clothing to send over to some of the scholars while Yellow-britches was about his business. They’d want to take a look at this right away, he was sure of it. Laridian noticed the clerk, motioned for his attention, and raised his right arm.

“Dedicated- do I have anything on my sleeve?”

A blank look met his query. “Sir?”

“My sleeve. Is there anything on it?”

A blank look with a touch of confusion in it. “N-No, sir.”

“Ah. Good.”

Laridian went back to his paperwork, wondering idly what the Seeker would make of Yellow-Britches.

Nhadnay had only been found this morning in the docks of tear, he had seemed to be a beacon of 'weirdness' with his bright yellow, baggy sharan breeches, bare chest and blue tattooed face, not to mention the Su'Nar and the rings representing his sons that were attached to his neck. There had been three asha'man in that area of Tear, who -like the rest of the docks- had been utterly surprised about the athan'miere ship suddenly appearing just after dawn in the harbour; and guided by the testemonies of the dockworkers, such an exotic bird as Nhadnay wasn't hard to find. The asha'man had tested the young man -who by now already was becomming severely confused and scared of the people around him with their strange habits and mud on the ground in which he could hardly move and was ruining his silken breeches- And had then taken him along. Nhadnay had only followed them, since they seemed to have a purpose, and even though they stared at him nearly as much as the other people, they seemed capable of holding it in. plus there was something to them.... some kind of kinship he felt... something that had grown temporarily stronger as Nhadnay had to watch a flame that appeared out of the fireworkers hand for nearly an hour.

The men in black had led Nhadnay around and a while later made him step trough some strange thing... a thing that had made Nhadnay freeze up for a moment, for it was something he'd already had seen a few times before, it was something the Ayyad women dissapeared or reappeared from in the village. Nhadnay had moved from being frozen into being panicking and started trashing about; but then one of the men spoke. his accent was different from the others, but still incredibly slow; like a child only learning to speak. "Calm down lad... we're not going to hurt you, nothing bad will happen to you by going trough this gateway." and instantly Nhadnay calmed down, knowing that the man had to be telling the truth; and he wondered who that man and his companions were mourning for. but he stepped trough.


They entered a private room and two of the men clad in black left Nhadnay and the third one, the fireworker with the colors on his sleeve, alone. Is this my new master? Nhadnay asked himself, wondering why by the birds a man would want a slave colared by the Su’Nar. Maybe he just wants to have his servants to have children of a good heritage...

After all, it was not strange for a man to buy another man as a slave, but Nhadnay clearly was not a worker or a fighter. But then again, there were those who prided themselves in having slaves only of the best heritage. At least that’s what he assumed since the Ayyadwomen paired him like that.

But once more the fireworker started talking, once more asking Nhadnay questions; questions to which Nhadnay automatically reacted with stoic silence.
“Are you mute?”
“……”
“Are you deaf?”
“Can you write down what you’re here for?”
”......” write down? What? Do I look like a scribe? for a moment Nhadnay was confused but the next question made him actually frown slightly.
“Are you looking for something?”
am I? he wondered as once more he looked at the shiny colors on the mans sleeve what does that mean? Just so little colour in all that black
At this moment Nhadnay had been thinking and had come to the conclusion that this had not been a dream... he knew his dreams far too well not to feel that he was in one now; however lifelike they could be.
So he had run away somehow... he had taken a ship and went someplace else... but he had only been travelling for a few hours so he could not be that far away from his mistress.
And still he had ran away from her... a very heavy crime; and even the mere thought of it made him twitch his back, where he could almost still feel the lashes of the whip.

Then suddenly the door opened again and one of the men in black walked in, carrying a pack of cloth which they told him to wear. Nhadnay just looked at him confused. forcing someone in black? By the birds in what kind of place have I been put? But as the fireworker, whom he assumed was his master told him that anyone who stayed in the black tower as a soldier had to wear the black, Nhadnay just bowed and got undressed before trying to squeeze himself into the black clothes who were far too tight; in the meanwhile listening to his master telling him that he would get his pants and sash back.

Then he was told to wait and for a while Nhadnay just stood there, waiting, having his portrait or something taken. [i] so soon... it took me many nights before the mistress wanted to have me at her side on a portrait, and at least there he had been naked, not wearing such a silly thing. Then another black man walked in and the Master introduced Nhadnay to ‘Asha’man Aaron’ and told him to follow the man and do his biddings and so Nhadnay left, wondering where he had ended up.