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Compulsion: Conduit of Will
Sun Jul 2, 2006 10:41
69.63.34.9 (XFF: 192.168.1.3)

OOC: This is for Soldiers, Accepted, and Dedicated with the Talent of Compulsion! If they don’t have the Talent, Soldiers and Dedicated can take this for Defensive Weaves credit. Accepted, however, must have the Talent to attend–even then, without the Aes Sedai’s knowledge of what they’re learning. If Accepted don’t have the Talent, they cannot take this lesson for channeling credit.


The Black and White Towers were very different places.

To the north, within the Shining Walls of Tar Valon, the White Tower was a place most unsuited to combat. Oh, the women and men there learned the weaves, perhaps even practising them, and there was a Green Ajah . . . yet the White Tower as a whole would likely suffer under the hands of a Trolloc attack. Trollocs had invaded the Tower in history before, after all, and it could happen again. The White Tower was virginal child, suffice to say, and soft to boot. The White Tower would not live to see the end of the days.

The Black Tower, on the other hand, was as though a tempered blade. It was strong; it was powerful. The Dragon Reborn, the Light illumine his very name, had made it into something of force. The Black Tower had killed and would again, and the Black Tower would be the very conduit through which the end of the Last Battle would flow. Though it was but the White Tower’s shadow in the eyes of many, it would survive very nations. The Asha’man would be immortalized.

And so it made sense that the two Towers had very different views of Compulsion.

Oh, the Talent was known to them both. The Aes Sedai were not idiots. Fools, yes, but not idiots, and Quine had to suppose there was a difference. However, Compulsion was forbidden in the White Tower. Knowledge of it was subject to punishment. Quine had been a novice, once, before transferring to become a Soldier after little more than a couple of months; she knew that the Aes Sedai forbade Compulsion in all forms, and even the knowledge of the weave was subject to severe punishment. It was the rare sort of thing that might have an Accepted brought down to the likes of novices.

However, at the Black Tower . . . Compulsion was any other weave. It was Spinning Earthfire. It was the weave that detonated rocks. It was Cloud Dancing. It was a weave. It brought grave consequences to those who abused it, yes, but as did all weaves in the hands of those who were not careful. The Asha’man condoned the use of the Talent to those who had it, and a simple version was common knowledge to all Ambassadors like Quine herself. This was why Quine would be teaching a lesson on the subject that day.

She was a formidable woman, Quine, standing with arms crossed as she peered with a cold stare over the grounds. Many called Quine a bitter woman. She was not deaf. She heard the Soldiers’ whispers. Quine did not care. In fact, she took it almost as a compliment. Many of the Asha’man were straying from the initial intent of the Black Tower. Many thought it was their own prerogative should they show laughter and tears. No. Asha’man were weapons. Weapons did not smile. Lysander T’hoth, the Tower’s own M’Hael, was a pathetic example of this. She’d never seen the man not smile, even if it was that queer little smile of his that made her think of him as vapid. Fool.

As Compulsion was not a volatile weave–or, rather, there would be no volatile applications of the weave today–the lesson would be held in the north classrooms. Quine was not a tall woman, standing noticeably short to compliment her Cairhienin lineage, and so her short strides carried her there. Her dark hair was cut boyishly short, as some might say, though it suited her, and her pale complexion enjoyed a bit of colour from the sun so that she did not appear as though a walking spectre in black.

Once Quine arrived at the classroom, she noticed that no one was early. She would have snorted, but she did not, of course. Soldiers and Dedicated rarely came early to classes anymore. Oh, it was a precious few who were late–very few–though most decided that “on time” was sufficient. No initiate. They’d become lazy slobs if they were not careful.

Eventually, however, several recruits did come in, many appearing interested. And then she noticed something. White. An Accepted in a banded gown. Quine quirked a brow. “Today,” Quine intoned, “you will learn a lesson on the subject of Compulsion.” And the Accepted did not flush nor leave. The woman, olive complexion and all, remained. Well, the woman would simply have to accept the consequences should her little “adventure” become known. She supposed the woman had broken free from a lesson, as it was early afternoon, though the blame for teaching the Accepted would not fall on her own head. “It is not a common Talent; as such, few of you will have it. Perhaps none. I have Compulsion, and I will even be able to teach those of you who do not have the Talent a trick or two. Your control will be limited, though there are some slight modifications to behaviour you might be able to control.

“After all, that is what Compulsion is, if you do not know already. It opens up the mind of the victim to accept orders. The victim will think that these decisions are made on their own behalf. If I Compelled any of you to sheathe your own sword into your very gut, thereby killing yourself, you would think that it was your own decision, and I could even make you laugh gaily as I did so. That is the power of the weave. It is done of Spirit, and so those of you who are powerful in the element like I am should know that you stand a greater chance of having the Talent. Nothing is certain, though.

“Before I will ask for introductions, there is something I must say. For the Soldiers and Dedicated, the unauthorized use of Compulsion on a member or employee of the Tower is punishable by death. There are no exceptions. We allow you to use and practise the weave, but never without permission from an instructor should the victim be an ally of yours. The side-effect of being Compelled is present in a splitting headache. Anyone who suffers such a headache without warning should immediately report it to a superior.

“Now, give your name and rank as well as where Spirit stands on your spectrum of elemental strengths–that is, if you are strong in it. That is all.”


OOC: You heard the woman! 500 words minimum for all of you. Part I will go up on Friday the seventh, so get going. *grins* Any questions can be sent to me via email, and don’t forget the OOC at the top of the post, either. ^_-;

And if you're looking for a weapon lesson, check out the GiT Board for tutelage on the subject of Knives!

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