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A different sort of WoT RPG
Fri Aug 29, 2008 10:39am (XFF: unknown)

If anyone happens about here and is interested, I've made a new WoT RPG. I've done my best to make it interesting and different through use of copious NPCs and a story line I haven't really seen used much.

Web of Destiny

If you want an idea of what it's about...keep reading!

In 976 NE, the Aiel surged west across the Dragonwall, intent on punishing Laman for his sins against Avendesora. Their bloodthirsty battle ended before the Walls of Tar Valon, where the battle raged for three long days, with much blood shed on either side. On the third day, Laman fell; without another word the Aielmen returned to the Waste. The battle had been brutal, but now it was over; gradually, life returned to normal. In the Borderlands, reports of shadowy forms creeping through the night grew in frequency; small patrols caught away from shelter disappeared, and the Blight crept south at every increasing rates. It ate Malkier entirely, leaving only rubble and ruins in its wake, and it crept south, until it lay only scant miles north of Fal Dara in Shienar. Time passed, and as it did, people grew accustomed to the way things were. Whispers of foul deeds were laughed at; direct evidence of Darkfriends was ignored.

19 years after the Battle of the Shining Walls, in the year 998, trollocs appeared seemingly out of nowhere in the Emond's Field area of the Two Rivers, a district in eastern Tear, an area in Almoth Plain, and a remote town in Cairhien. In all four locations, all life was wiped out, fields burned, and buildings torn down. Travelers passing through the areas after the attacks reported phrases written in a script they had never seen before, scrawled across the ruins in the dried blood of the dead. The news was drastic, but seemed so out of the realm of possibility that most did not believe it. By the time authorities sent forces to investigate the truth of the matter, all trace of the attacks had been washed away, leaving behind only bones and broken ruins as a silent eulogy to the lives of the fallen.

Months passed, and news came south of the Shadow moving against Fal Dara. Although the Blight had not crept any further south, an army of Shadowspawn had besieged the city, in numbers large enough that even the mustered armies of Shienar could not drive them off. The other Borderlands were also engaged with the Shadow, their forces taken up by the struggle to maintain their norther borders. Fal Dara stood alone, its people knowing their doom lay soon before them...and yet they held off the Shadowsworn, day after day, month after month. Aes Sedai sent north vanished; the White Tower maintained its belief that their emissaries got to Fal Dara and assisted in its defense, but no word came to prove their assertion. Murders increased, and so did disappearances. Shadowspawn walked in open daylight, and Shadowsworn grew less fearful of discovery, even when local authorities broke up meetings and executed those present. The Blight crept south, and Shadowspawn raids destroyed village upon village, surging even beyond the southern limits of the Borderlands.

An Aes Sedai with the rare Talent of Foretelling fell into a fatal coma after declaring that the Last Battle was coming in tides of tears and blood. Scholars from across the nations read the Prophecies of the Dragon and read them anxiously, looking for some sign of what was to come; they found little comfort in the tattered pages. At that tumultuous moment, two men declared themselves the Dragon Reborn. Festering violence erupted, crashing across the land in a merciless wave that swept all before it. The Red Ajah acted without orders, striking against Logain Ablar and Mazrim Taim in one concerted effort that ended in them both destroyed mere months after declaring themselves.

Upon their return to the White Tower, they found disapproval and disdain instead of the hero's welcome they had expected. The Amyrlin knew -the Tower knew- that even if it turned their stomachs to think about it, the Dragon had to be reborn for Tarmon Gai'don to be successful. If either of the men the Red Ajah had executed had been the Dragon Reborn, the world was doomed. Hope was their only option; giving into despair was not an option to women used to running the world as they pleased.

Hurried councils were head in secret, options discussed and discarded and revisited. Only one option seemed possible: If the Dragon would not declare himself to the world, they would have to force him to before all was lost. It was a concept that went against everything anyone in the White Tower had ever believed in. What was worse, was the manner in which the Hall decided to implement their plan: Create a city, perhaps even a Tower equal to their own, where men could safely learn to channel. Outrage and disbelief rang against the walls...and eventually quieted, as even the Red Ajah accepted the inevitable. The Reds, once they gave in, were the strongest advocates for the new idea. Their reasons for doing it might not have been quite in line with the rest (A group of madmen together is easier to destroy than the same madmen scattered across thousands of miles), but the resulting passion helped carry through a plan that might otherwise have been impossible.

The White Tower discreetly began preparation for the building of the Black Tower, so named for the black Dragon's Fang that completed the Aes Sedai symbol. After some debate it was decided the men they sheltered and trained would be named Asha'man, which meant "Guardian" in the Old Tongue. Since the Black Tower was being formed to assist in guarding the lands from the Dark One's minions, guardian seemed somehow appropriate. The amnesty that went out, offering all men who could channel a safe place to live and study, made no mention of the White Tower or of Aes Sedai; more men than the White Tower had ever expected flocked, arriving at the newly created "Black Tower" -little more than a village at the time- in droves.

Most of them balked when they realized their haven was run by Aes Sedai; many faded into the night in fear of being gentled in their sleep. But as time passed and no one was harmed, and the Sisters who ran it remained as helpful as they knew how to be, word got out. Over a period of years, one by one, the men came back. It was a rough process to sort those who had been driven dangerously mad by saidin from those who were 'safe', and one that involved delicacy and a great deal of caution. The Red Ajah took it upon themselves to oversee this process, in perhaps the most wholly unselfish decision the Ajah had ever made. They had rightfully guessed that they were already unwelcome, and chose to allow their negative image to remain rather than endanger what the other Ajahs had accomplished with the Asha'man.

Even as the Black Tower grew, so did the White Tower. Aes Sedai had stepped up efforts to bring in every woman who could channel that they could find. Groups of Aes Sedai rode from town to town, testing all who were interested and bringing everyone who could channel back with them, with or without their consent. The novice and Accepted ranks swelled, and the Aes Sedai relaxed their vigilance.

Perhaps they should not have.

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