Ripple Five: The Twin Archers
written by Dinan Clegine (NPC), Jolartin Votashen, Sinon Clegine (NPC), Durent Antian and Negrath Devir

Their waiting was at an end.

"I see him," said Dinan to his twin brother, while he blinked away brown hair from his hazel eyes. Dressed in his boiled leather armour, he stroked the curve of his horse-bow.

"Him I see," answered Sinon, his albino-white hair hiding his red eyes. He was perfectly still, though set to spring like the string of his crossbow. His calloused hand was still upon the jade handle, his finger not yet upon the trigger.

"It is time," decided Dinan.

"Time it is," concluded Sinon.

Falling out from behind their column, they fanned out in the dim library... following their target down the middle path of the numerous bookshelves. This was one of the more seldom used halls of the Brown Ajah and they ran a small risk of being discovered at their work - nevertheless the risk was there. However, they were professionals, and it would not be the first time they dealt with several channelers. They often found themselves being hired for jobs like these, to kill an Asha'man-to-be inside the Tower's battlements. They had done something similar a couple of years ago in the White Tower, and they ad got away clean ... like always. And they knew which kind of price they claimed for such a kill.

Their muffled soles made no sound as they stalked their prey down the rows of bookshelves reaching far up towards the vaulted roof. The stone floor's coldness could be felt through the thin soles, and Dinan's lungs strained from the effort of not breathing at all. His brother fanned out further to the right of the channeler's flank, and being his twin brother, Dinan fanned out to the left.

Then it began, as the black haired man with radiant green eyes stepped out where the main path was crossed with another. In the centre of the cross, their prey was exposed. First came Sinan out in the intersection to the right, and with his quite famous crossbow he loosed one arrow of perfect aim. And the moment later, Dinan came out on the left side, the moment no longer than his brother's bolt to fly pass in case he missed, which hadn't happened in fifteen years. Dinan's aim was not as perfected as his brothers, though he prided himself to be one of the fastest archers alive.

For while he passed over the path to Dedicated Jolartin's left, he notched, aimed and loosed five arrows, before the first ever reached it's mark. Meanwhile, his brother would already be beyond the intersection, hiding among the shelves again.

OOC: These events occur between morning and noon the same day that the drin'far'ji was hanged.

Jolartin had been walking through the halls of the Library, using saidin to allow him to look at his Talent more objectively and study it closer, as he had realized he could do after speaking extensively with Daimenin Asha'man.

The Power filling him, he was able to look at the Darksense less as an adversary and more as a tool.

He heard something quietly that instantly alerted his attention. Being an archer, the snap of a bowstring was quite familiar, and also out of place in a library.

Dropping, he saw the bolt pass overhead and then heard the distinctive sound of a horse-bow being drawn. Channeling saidin, he used his enhanced senses to find where the arrows were coming from and fried them with concentrated bursts of Fire.

I don't feel a Darkfriend...But someone's shooting at me! Why don't I feel a Darkfriend???

Having seen some vague movement from where the barrage had come from, he nocked an arrow and looked in that location, also searching with his senses.

I don't hear anything...I don't see anything...Where is he??? Wait, where's the other archer??

Using the one ward he could use well, he clothed himself in a ward of physical deflection. While it was useless against Power-based attacks, the M'Hael had intimated that most of the attacks against any truly of the Light would not be so...obvious, so this was the weave Jolartin had been taught.

Barely seeming to breathe, he scanned the area. How come there's no other blasted person in the entire Library???

After the short moments of chaos, where fire and arrows had hissed in the air, the Library was silent again.

Dinan nocked an arrow from his one of his quivers, having one strapped to each leg and yet another on his back. He carried more arrows than other because of his technique. He had pressed himself up against the bookshelf he had run to and he had managed to take two breaths while he fired his last volley, yet now he was silent again. He knew that his brother was cranking back his well-oiled weapon just now, and placing a new bolt where the last had been. He missed, thought Dinan with a small tingle in his nerves. He never miss.

It seemed the young channeler was blessed with heightened senses.

But there was no reason to fret, for now they would make their second approach. Time was their key. Dinan knew that it was half a minute and five seconds after they left their hidingplace, and in three seconds, they would move, and breathe again. Their prey hadn't moved, he was still in the middle of the crossing paths between the bookshelves. Dinan knew it for he heard his breath.

At the same time, the twins attacked.

Dinan stepped sideways over the floor of the intersection, and sent five new arrows flying in just as rapid a succession. He was behind the bookshelves on the oposite side when his string still quivered. Meanwhile, at the exact same time, he knew that Sinon had fallen out before the channeler named Jolartin ... this time in the middle of his path - and fired one bolt, His shots were always aimed at the heart. When the arrow was in the air, he had fallen back to whence he came. Dinan couldn't see his brother, but he knew exactly what he did, what they were to do next.

They had shared a womb, now they shared the chase.

Jolartin heard the snaps of the bow and turned just to see the man disappear behind a row of books. The arrows hit the ward and stuck there, seemingly embedded inside him. Jolartin felt the ward weaken but held onto it, knowing that re-weaving it would take more time than he had.

He was rocked forward when the crossbow bolt hit him, and knew that this ward would not last much longer.

I think that it's time to start using the Power to my advantage.

He tiptoed in one direction out of the crossing of the shelves, using the Power to make it sound like he was tiptoeing in the other direction.

If they hear both, at least they'll be confused. That might give me the opening I need.

Pausing and using the Oneness to stop his breathing, he held a weave ready and waited.

Sinon cranked back his jade-handled crossbow and listened, non breathing. His white hair hung before his red eyes, his head tilted forward. He was quite certain he had hit his mark this time. Yet as he closed his eyes, he heard movements still. Two persons? Was there another in the library which they had failed to see? No, that could not simply be it. They knew this game too well. Right now, Dinan, his brother and comrade-in-arms, had began to move. Sinion didn't need to hear him, for he couldn't due to their muffled soles. But he knew that Dinan was now stalking the length if the small corridors. He was the hunter between the two of them, while he ... he was the sniper.

True to his role, Sinon opened his eyes and readied a bolt on his crossbow. Time it is. With cat-like grace, he faced the shelves he had been leaning against and climbed them. Up and up he went, like a spider in his web, and nearly as silent. If it weren't for the very slight creaking of the shelves, his ascending was without sound. His black, boiled leather armour was too well oiled to make a sound, and the inside of his quiver was padded as well. Very soon he was perched on the top of the bookshelf, overlooking the crossing in the hall. He could not stay, for his ascending could have been heard. He leaped between the shelves, high up and right underneath the vaulted roof. Like a demon he flew, until he was content with his position.

And there he sat, like a gargoyle with his crossbow raised in aim. He searched the darkness beneath, like a god to smite an unbeliever. Cloaked in the darkness above the pathways, he was equally invisible. He existed, but none would know for sure where he was.

His aim travelled the lines of shelves, and soon he saw his brother slowly moving shadow. Had he been distracted by the other foosteps? Hard to tell. The count they shared in their minds was mouthed breathlessly while his aim travelled. Yet where was the channeler? Had he fled in some way? No, there he was. His shadow betrayed him, flapping in the candlelight beyond the line of shelves. He was not far from where he had been. And his brother was actually soon upon him.

Sinon took his aim. His shot would mark their prey for his brother, and he would finish up what the shot left for him. The bookcases were not made thick in the middle, and the power of a crossbow would carry the bolt through the wood in-between the books. His lungs strained for air, but he would not let himself breathe before the bolt was away.

So he let it go, and sucked in his breath in great relish while his brother followed the path of the bolt. The shot resounded while it struck through the bookcase ...
it was a perfect shot. And his brother crossed the opening where the channeler stood, firing four arrows in mid run.

Jolartin had waited, knowing that something was about to happen. As the crossbow bolt went through the bookcase, he dropped.

Seeing one of the two assassins running by, loosing arrows, Jolartin did exactly as his training suggested. He burned three arrows just as he had previously, but lashed out with saidin instead of destroying the fourth and struck the assailant with a concentrated weave of Air.

The fourth arrow, due to his twisting, did not kill him, but did slice a rather painful gash in his arm.

I don't know how hurt that bloody sheeplover is, but I do know that this bloody well hurts!

Dropping to the floor, he covered himself in a weave. Although he did not become invisible, as this was beyond his skill with the Power, it did have a similar effect to Warder material, in that he seemed to melt into the background if he did not move.

Grunting, Dinan lurched to his feet. He couldn't quite hold his balance and stumbled sideways a couple of steps before he crouched down. With great effort, he produced another arrow soon grew his bow. His eyes darting around to take in the changes in the environment, he felt his hands shake somewhat ... making his aim waver.

You will die for that, he thought, his brow-ridge lowered as he searched for the channeler. His breath came raggedly, and he thought one rib might be broken on his right side. The pain of keeping the bow drawn was barely tolerable. But that was not the worst thing about his failure.

He had lost the count as well as his breathing discipline.

Their prey he could not see anymore, so he had to move. With some effort, he came to his feet and circled his aim along the openings between the bookcases ... moving away down the path. Soon he seized breathing again, and listened?

Walking aimlessly the paths of the Green Halls, Durent read a large leather-bound book on the little known Talent of "Listening to the Wind." After having read for about an hour, he decided that there was nothing in the book that could help him understand his newly-discovered Talent. He started to make his way to the Library.

Passing through the Brown Halls that lead to the Library, Durent started to sense something very strange. He could sense channeling coming from the Library. Now channeling was almost always detected in the Tower, it happened almost literally all the time, but this seemed odd, very few people channeled, at least not this much, in the Library. He went to the door, opened it, and as he walked in seized saidin. He listened very carefully, and heard a commotion, then the obvious sound of a crossbow thwang. Without knowing it, he started rubbing the spot in his left bicep that had been shot with an arrow while in the Crystal Lake.

Durent quickly wove a solid wall of Air in front of him as he stood in the open doorway of the Library. Using a weave to amplify his voice he called out, "This is Durent Asha'man, what is going on in here?"

Jolartin very nearly started vibrating with excitement as he heard the man's voice.

An Asha'man! Finally...I have a chance!

Knowing that if he moved he would most likely be dead, Jolartin did the only thing he could think of. Spelling out 'Right below this message Two assassins in Library Can't move Camouflage Weave' in thick strands of Fire, he projected this weaving directly above himself.

I don't have to move to hold the weave...Please see it!

Having thought it best to see if he could learn something of relevance in the library, Negrath was surprised to find the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he approached the entrance.
Slowing to give the Ashaman already there right of way, he froze as the thought hit him; perhaps the mornings events were not yet quite done with...

Stopping dead still, Dinan Clegine listened to the booming voice. It came from the entrance, so he altered his path that way, his bow raised horizontally before him. His jaw worked as he pushed back the pain of his broken rib.

The lines of bookcases were lit momentarily, and he saw the message their prey left in the air. Quite inventive? However, that was not to save him. His brother would remain above, watching, while he would deal with their guest.

In a matter of seconds, Dinan stepped out in the main path leading from the entrance. There was more than one man silhouetted in the opening. Before his foot landed, an arrow was away. And then another and another. And four arrows were in the air before the first had landed. When the fourth was away, the pain was too great and he was forced to fall back.

Not very long after Durent had announced his presence two things happened very fase: a man stepped out into the main path where Durent was currently facing, and a message in strands of Fire appeared in the air down the hall also. Even though he looked injured, the man drew and fired four shots with speed that amazed Durent. Luckily, Durent had already woven a solid shield of Air in front of himself that the arrows flew into. A couple merely bounced off, while the other two snapped in half.

The man seemed in too much pain to continue and tried to duck back behind another bookshelf. Keeping the shield in place in front of him, Durent shot out a lightning bolt from his hand in an attempt to hit the mysterious assasin...

When lightning struck, Dinan's escape was showered with flying wood, leather and burnt paper.

The bolt had connected solidly into the bookcase Dinan had fallen back behind after his four shots. Although he survived, the impact had sent him reeing into the next bookcase, and volumes from the upper shelves had fallen upon him like an avalanche. No sooner had he found his footing again than he had ran away from the spot. The channeler had created a shield about himself! How could the man have been so cautious? How could he have guessed the danger? Obviously, like the first, this second channeler was someone to reckon with ... someone who had seen as much blood as him and his brother. They knew what they were doing, both of them. And what about the third, younger man, had he been a channeler too? Things had taken an ill turn.

Though it did not matter, for now they would proceed like always in such a situation.

If he and his brother had slipped, the two enemies were now aware of the whereabouts of one twin each. Therefore, they now always traded preys. Sinion would approach the newcomer and his friend, while Dinan himself would hunt for their main prize. The plan was to catch both targets unawares. The broken rib in his side pained him, yet Dinan was determined that he would take the first one now. The newcomer did not matter. They would only get their second half of their money if Jolartin Votashen died.

The search was on.

Jolartin had heard the lightning bolt and knew that one of the Asha'man had seen and attacked one. Unsure if he could move yet or not, knowing that there was another out there, Jo was almost relieved to hear the discharge of a crossbow toward the door.

That means that both are over there...Good. That means I can move!

Getting up, Jolartin hastily relaid his warding against physical violence. Holding as much saidin as he could safely, he began to walk the bookshelves, looking cautiously for his attacker.

Seeing one of the two, Jolartin did exactly as his training dictated. The instant he moved, his assailant saw him, but it was too late.

Weaving a thick grouping of Air, Jo wove four walls around the man, hoping that the fourth would be closed in before he could move.

There he was!

Dinan stepped forward to raise his bow, yet he found an invisible wall there. Stepping back again, he found another, and that instant, he knew what he was about to be trapped. Leaping high and to the side, he found another wall. Last resort? Putting both his feet against the solid surface upon the impact, he grunted when his broken rib ground against his inner organs and sprang away again. Now high into the air, he put the butt of his arrow to the nocking-point, drew and loosed and arrow against the channeler in mid-air.

His aim was true. Yet the arrow broke in two before the face of the Dedicated.

Though Dinan's leap probably carried him over the opposite wall, he crashed into the bookcase instead. His rib reminded itself again, and the world turned into a million colours of pain. He didn't come down upon the stone floor again, since when he hit the bookcase that high up, he made it fall. And it fell into the next one, and the domino effect summoned a high rumble of crashing wood and falling books. Dinan folded his legs under himself, his face a mask of pain and hate. He had yet another arrow in hand already, and he didn't even know which quiver he had taken it from. "Die!!"

And then he sent arrow after arrow against the prey, for he could not move from his crouching position upon the toppled bookcase. In a tight stream the arrows came, his last resort to break through the wall protecting Jolartin Votashen.

Durent was growing frustrated, he always had preferred an out and out fight. These two assasins were using hit and run tactics that were starting to wear on his temper, and Durent sometimes grew very destructive when angry. As he kept his shield firmly in place, he focused on his senses in an attempt to find the assasins. He noticed that the young Drin was still standing behind him, and he would be safe if he stayed there.

Suddenly Durent saw a the other assasin, that he hadn't shot at, come into the path up, but further down than the last. Durent heard the powerful thwang of the man's crossbow, and suddenly realized that it might pierce his wall of Air. Durent shifted the face of his shield slightly to the right, and summoned the most powerful blow of Air that he could create and hit the bolt with it. The bolt struck the front of the shield and broke through it, but shifted shield had brunted it slightly aside, and the strike of Air had pushed it just far enough to the side that it barely missed him, striking though his black cloak. The man once again disappeared behind the bookshelves.

Then, as if that wasn't enough, Durent started hearing the crashing of bookshelves crashing towards him. He braced himself, but was relieved to notice that they stopped a few feet from him. He then saw the first assasin laying in the mess, his bow still clutched in his hand. Durent immediately wove flows of Air to try to contain the man...

Feeling like a black grasshopper, Sinon Clegine leapt across the tops of the bookcases.

Why had not the Asha'man retaliated against him yet? Finding a good angle from up there in the darkness, he looked down to see that the newcomer had turned in the direction of his brother as he withdrew an equally armour-piercing bolt he had just fired before. The bloody Asha'man dared neglect him, and also distract him from their purpouse. They were to kill Jolartin Votashen, though now when his twin brother were at the hands of two Channelers, Sinon's aims were tempted to shift. Dinan? No! He could not stray from their mission. He placed the bolt in the bolt-channel. Both of them knew the risks. Whatever happened, they would solve it.

...How about some distraction yourself, Asha'man?

He raised his crossbow and took aim upon the young man standing in the background. Now his angle was much more from the side of the newcomers ... and from the other side than his brother were. He had a clear shot on the drin'far'ji's heart.

And then he pulled the hinged lever and sent the bolt for the killing shot. While he watched the flight, he prepared for another shot...

Time seemed to slow. It was like this every time he drew heavily on saidin; his senses were amplified greatly. Right now he would be able to hear the beating wings of a fly. However, he knew all too well that he would soon be overwhelmed with fatigue, he needed to end this and soon. The lights and shadows were playing tricks on his eyes, he had first believed that the assasin was hiding behind the bookcases, but the reason that he was getting his shots off so well is because he was actually lurking on top of the bookshelves.

Durent's thoughts were interrupted by another thwang of the crossbow being released. But he had prepared a weave a head of time and incinerated the bolt as it approached. Durent quickly retalliated with a bolt of lightning to where the shot had come from...

While his shot burst into flame and vanished, Sinon realized that he had gained the newcomer's attention again. And a retaliation would be due. My brother they have seized. The thought prodded at his concentration. No time. He moved back two steps and poised his crossbow to leap away once more to an intersecting bookcase.

However, lightning struck quicker.

The world exploded into wood and paper. It spun like a boulder tumbling down a slope, and the albino lost all orientation as well as his breath. The only thing that was not left to chance, the only chip that did not fall as it pleased was the iron grip he had on the handle of his crossbow. Perchance he died, it would guard his path in the after-life.

When reason and sense of being re-entered his mind, he found himself out of sight from the previous battle, sprawled like a cross upon the bookcase behind the one he had been upon earlier. His boiled leather armour smoked from the near-impact of the lightning bolt he only had heard while it struck. His eyes were affected too ... dimmed from the flash. Therefore, he must have seen the attack, yet he had not had the time to register it.

His hands actually shook from the dreadful feeling that he had been so close to fry. While he regained his footing, he found that his back hurt furiously. Like and old man of age I am, he thought with dry humour. He checked the string of his crossbow and found it intact if covered by splinters. His clothing was covered with too large sawdust.

For the moment, they probably think I'm dead, he thought, remaining in his crouching position, and that gives me the advantage to regroup and later save my brother. Fortunate for us, this is.

And with that, Sinon Clegine disappeared into the shadows.

Jolartin saw the man hit the bookcase, and knew that the pain he must be in would be absolutely horrifying. As the bookcases fell, Jolartin felt that the end of this particular issue was finally coming.

When the arrows began flying at him, he did the simplest thing he could. He burned the arrows as they flew, while nocking an arrow of his own.

Feeling the Asha'man's weave trying to contain the assassin, Jolartin knew that the man would need all of his strength to fight the other assassin.

Amplifying his voice, he said simply, in the air of the Green Ajah, "50% complete, Asha'man. Recommend containment."

Using a razor-thin weave of Air, Jolartin sliced the assassin's bowstring, effectively stopping the barrage of arrows. Now, standing over the man, Jolartin held an arrow nocked and drawn.

"There are two different ways I can kill you right now, and you can't outrun either one of them. Light, you couldn't outrun either of them if you weren't hurt! Now, either you are going to surrender and explain exactly how someone who is not a Darkfriend could do such a thing, among other things, or you will not like the consequences."

Jolartin smiled slightly, but the gleam in his eyes made the look more sinister than friendly.

Finding himself completely in their victim's clutches, Dinan Clegine realised that he had lost. "Well channeler, I yield." he said, trying to sit back upon the shelves and groaned, finding that he was bound by unseen ropes. He the boiled leather armour he wore clung to his skin by the pressure. Not able to shift into a more comfortable position, he finally had to let the pain of his side give voice. "I'm surely no Darkfriend, if that's what you are implying."

His hazel eyes were completely still, his demeanour quite placid. "I am a professional" he explained, and dropped his bow from his hand. Slowly, he regained his breath. "As is my brother. And I will not say another word until my trial."

Looking towards where his brother were, he grimaced. Sinon. Give up our mission. Save yourself and rescue me when you have the chance. They needed each other, he and his brother. Sinon would see that he was taken, and save his own neck. Dinan knew it. The only question was if he would see his surrender and escape while he still could. A "twang' signalled that his brother had loosed yet another bolt. Trailing it with his eyes, Dinan saw that it came for the young man behind the Asha'man.

Jolartin knew that, under Tower law, he was unable to harm even a criminal once that person had yielded to the law.

However, he also knew that, just by the statement made, this man did not realize why he had been hired.

"I already knew you were not a Darkfriend. In fact, the whole reason you were hired is because I can tell. Do you see any other reason for an assassin to be hired to attack a lowly Dedicated?"

Smirking slightly, Jolartin did not release the pressure on the bowstring. "To be honest, judging by what I'm feeling being near you, you have been around quite a few recently...Most likely your employers, but that remains to be seen."

The smile vanished from his face and the deadly calm of the drawn bow entered his entire being.

"Since I'm not exactly a master of the bow in any means, if the arrow were to accidentally slip from my fingers why, nobody would even bloody comment."

The arm previously hit by the arrow started to quiver. "In fact, considering what I've faced, I'd probably get a medal for having stopped an assassin who managed to get inside the Tower. Now, you are going to tell me who hired you, where it was, and anything else you find relevant, or my arm's just going to...give out."

The look on his face said quite clearly what his voice could not...He was prepared to release the arrow at point-blank range if he needed to.

Dinan returned his gaze to Jolartin before he witnessed the result of his brother's shot.

He regarded and carefully measured the resolve behind the man's words. He fixed his still gaze upon Jolartin's radiant green eyes, which contrasted with his black hair. Is there any iron in your words? He considered the angle of the bow, and concluded that the channeler was honest about his skill. A renowned bow-man through the nations, his ... and his brother's ... skills were widely known and highly attractive for those who could afford them. With a mere glance, Dinan Clegine saw the faults in the channeler's stance and grip, in the angle of his bow as well as the quivering of his arm. The arm that was injured. At least he or his brother had drawn blood before everything came to an end.

"Like I said, amateur" he finally rasped, his dark hazel eyes returning the same resolve. "I will not say anything until my trial. You don't have it in you to kill in cold blood. I do, you don't. I have yielded, and thus have my rights. If you shoot me now, your superior over there will see it. And besides. If you kill me; you will have my brother as your bane for life. Just like I would be if you killed him. Now drop your puny act and put me in a cell."

The echo of his voice faded. He could not really tell what would be better; to die swiftly by an arrow in his heart or by execution after torture. The second alternative give him a chance to freedom, yet if his brother was captured or killed as well. That would be hard. My life was damned since that day we took on the role as mercenaries. We always knew it could end like this. Staring back at the man with the black coat and the silver sword pin at the collar, his eyes held no fear. "If you are going to shoot me, then at least draw your bow decently. I would not like to die by a weak shot."

Jolartin stared into the man's eyes and felt contempt roll off of the man. However, there was something else...Were this gambling, I would swear he was testing me.

"You're half right, assassin. There are only two people who know you have yielded...Me and you. Besides, being hunted tends to anger one."

Looking into the other man's eyes, Jolartin saw years of resolve reflected back.

"There is one other thing you fail to realize. Without being prepared for you, the two of you weren't able to kill me. Skill as an archer yet or not, I alone was able to ward you off. Do you really think your brother alone would be able to kill me when I'm forewarned?"

Jolartin started laughing, which caused the bowstring to slip out of his fingers. Rather than hitting where he had been aiming, the laughter caused the bow to move and the arrow shot right at the man's right hand.

The bowstring twanged at the same time as another lightning bolt resounded in Dinan's ears, and then the pain flared up. He gave a short scream and grabbed the wrist of his hand, and when his eyes refocused from the blinding flash, he saw the shaft of an arrow halfway through his hand ... fletchings and head sprouting form either side of it. My drawing hand, he reflected the next instant, blood and bloody flaming ashes!

"I yielded!" he shouted in the face of the clumsy archer, and loud enough for the other men across the library to hear it, "lower your flaming bow, for I will not make any further resistance!"

Whatever Jolartin Votashen answered him, Dinan didn't hear. He had spent his entire life in the company of his brother, and never had he taken such a long time to set another bolt into the air. His eyes searched the location where he last knew Sinon had been, and then he saw that the lip of one great bookcase had been splintered into nothingness and scraps of parchment still floated slowly towards the floor far below. No? A cold sensation of dread crept up his spine and grabbed his neck. Sinon!

"Sinon!"

Chapter Two: The Martyr's Letter
~Ripple One: All But Pride Mended
~Ripple Two: Serpent in Shawl
~Ripple Three: A Shadow in a Black Robe
~Ripple Four: Seekings
~Ripple Five: The Twin Archers
~Ripple Six: Aftermath
~The Final Ripple

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