M'bela walked into the class room, she looked at the dark cold room placed in the basement of the fortress, it had been readied as she had wanted. There where not always friendlyness between beasts and geting hold of remains was not that hard. As well the walls of this room where lined with skulls of trollocs and other beeings, it was a room to teach biological subjects in. She looked at the two dead trollocs, the cold helped preserve them, they would be a couple days old. Luckily there where good airing down here hindering a too foul smell.

 

She every now and then found herself back here for periods of weeks, months or years teaching others like her who had been discovered. Wrinkeling her nose she turned her back on the dead bodies as she awaited the adepts. Some migth have come from places where spawn was but myth and even if they spent some time here to reach this level, they shilded within the fortress walls migth not have seen any yet. She just hoped none had tender stumocks.

 

As the last filed in she nodded, "Welcome, my name is M'bela and I will be teaching you about spawn in the next couple weeks. Now first I want to hear what level you are on, todays topic is Trollocs, the most numerous of the spawn." she turned towards one of the students. "You may start telling me what you know, have heard or belive about Trollocs, then the rest of you can add in what you know and then i will fill it in with some history and at end of class you will be given a chanse to study the dead exemplars i have behind me" She waited for the first student to start.

 

ooc I will let this run till over the weekend and post again on monday or tuesday. Remember the reason for taking a class is learning so you wouldnt be experts on this subject from before. Also if you are not from the borderlands you migth well belive they are but fairytales ;) i leave that up to you.

Drak strode through the cold, barren hallways of the fortress with a purpose. Dressed as impeccably as always, on the outside he was the image of cool serenity; a tall, handsome figure serenely surveying his surroundings, making his leisurely way to somewhere of no importance. Inside, however, he seethed. This lesson better not be a waste of time, he thought. I have important things to take care of, namely working with the new weaves. Ah well, perhaps a couple hours away will allow me to focus better when I begin again. I had better not be wasting my time, though, or someone will pay.

 

He had been here near the center of the Dark One’s power in the Blight for a while now, and he could feel his power growing. Of course, he couldn’t wait to return to more civilized climes and begin cultivating power and influence for his Dark master, but when the need suited he could be patient. When it was necessary, he could.

 

Today’s lesson was the first he had taken away from his own areas of interest in his apartments. Studying the Shadowspawn would no doubt be informative, that is if the instructor was competent. In his past, that had not always been the case. He had often found teachers to be mindless drones who weren’t suited to do more than hear their own empty words. But he expected the powers here had little patience with incompetence, so possibly he would learn a great deal that would aid him in the future.

 

He knew little about the various spawned creatures other than that they existed, although he had once seen a myrdraal. In Tear, Shadowspawn were the stuff of scary nighttime stories, believed by few. No doubt there were some seeds of truth in the tales, but he’d be hard pressed to separate fact from fantasy. He had heard Fades were 20 feet tall, disappeared when they turned sideways, and rode shadows like horses. The Fade he had seen certainly hadn’t matched those descriptions, but undoubtedly the black-clad creature had strange powers. It would do him well to learn of them. As for Trollocs, he knew little more, but had heard just as many strange stories. Some sort of animal half-men, they loved nothing more than killing. Other than that, the stories differed greatly, often contradicting each other point by point. He figured there were many more Dark creatures, as well, so he expected to be enlightened a great deal. At least he would be, if this wasn’t a complete waste of time.

 

Strolling into the cold room in the depths of the fortress, he sized up the instructor standing regally in the center of the “classroom.” A cold woman, no doubt, and not someone who looks like she would brook disrespect lightly. Perhaps, I’ll learn something here after all. With a smirk, he picked out a spot near one wall where he could keep an eye on the room’s only door, and nonchalantly leaned back with his arms crossed. Calmly surveying the rest of the room, he coolly noted the two corpses on the floor. I guess our masters don’t suffer insubordinance lightly. The casual acceptance of their deaths is something to remember.

 

There were only a handful of others here. As the last person filed in, the instructor began speaking. He listened to her instructions carefully and waited to see who would be the first “student” to speak.

Tamarla went down to the basements of the Fortress. Though it wasn't coming even close to the lowest basement it was still chill and moist down on the floor her classroom was. The Shadowspawn class was the one she was going to take. Not one of her most favourite subject, but she needed information. Tamarla hoped it would be a somewhat interesting class, otherwise she would have to make it interesting and she doubted if the teacher would think that funny.

 

When Tamarla came into the classroom she shivered for a bit. She was glad she hadn't eaten yet, otherwise she might would have vomited. Two dead trollocs laid in the room. Though the smell could have been a lot worse, this still wasn't a smell Tam liked or was used to.

 

When she had been taken from Ebou Dar to the Fortress Tamarla didn't believe in Trollocs. Trollocs were only mentioned to frighten children and she had laughed when these beasts were first mentioned by someone. Now she knew better than to laugh when someone would mention anything like this. She had learned something about these creatures though she knew practically nothing, which was why she attended this one.

 

Tamarla took place in the room and waited for M'bela to begin. M'bela had been her teacher before, a good teacher though she and Tam didn't were the closest friends. When Tamarla was pointed at to tell something about the Trollocs she said "I know they're stupid, ugly and they smell like... well they smell horrible. Mostly Myrddraals guide them, and they always go in groups and they eat whatever meat they can get. That would be about everything I know about those." After making a gesture to the Trollocs on the table she waited for someone else to add something while she had her arms crossed.

 

Tamarla, Adept

Nosae was used to lurking around in the dark places where no one else was present, but these corridors were definitely the worst of the spaces he had treaded through. But all in all it didn’t bother him, his mind was elsewhere, in a future elsewhere. The power he would acquire here in the fortress would help him reach this future, he could almost taste it. But before he could accomplish his destiny of power and ruling at the top of the stairway he had to learn about each stair.

 

Here he was heading to the deepest depths of the fortress, to the basement where he’d learn about the lowest step in the stairway of darkness, Shadowspawn. The idea didn’t seem very enticing to him, but sometime you had to buck up and do what had to be done, this was definitely one of those times. Learning of pig-men probably did have its benefits though, he could probably use them for One Power target practice. Oh yes, this class was definitely going to have its advantages.

 

When he’d learned about these half-breeds and lower life forms and how to control them, then he’d show the world that he wasn’t worthless, that he wasn’t a slave to anybody no matter how he had lived his childhood, he’d be respected and feared even if he had to wipe out half of the unenlightened non-channelers. He silently vowed to never return to a life of servitude to anyone but the Dark Lord himself and to learn of the shadow in the shadows.

 

And he had learned indeed. Practicing in an environment where channeling wasn’t considered an offence against humanity was truly benefiting him in great ways. He had much to learn yet, but he had learned more than he knew, and that was enough for now.

 

But now this ever increasing labyrinth was irritating to no ends. Was this bloody place made with the intention of making people go mad? No wonder everyone fears the Shadow, they even torture their followers by constructing buildings. And moreover, he feared a punishment from whomever the teacher was, he didn’t know where he could fit another scar on his body, but a Shadow Follower was sure to know where. And since he was pretty sure there was no way to imitate sight was the One Power, he couldn’t afford to lose another eye, and using two eye patches would just be ridiculous.

 

But nonetheless he did arrive on time, to hear M’bela’s introduction. The woman seemed powerful in a way, and standing close to those two corpses, which Nosae could only fathom to be trollocs, only proved she wasn’t bothered by much. He mentally reminded himself to not cross the woman, he had a feeling it could end lethally instead of just blinding.

 

After only a female student spoke of the trolloc, in which she easily summarized what Nosae himself knew of trollocs, he realized how very little he did know of trollocs. Maybe this class would help in many ways. And with that he impatiently waited for someone else to speak.

 

OOC: Yay! Finally on the way to greatness and destruction!

Drak listened carefully as the female student spoke. Her words made sense, but he looked to the instructor to see if she would confirm the assessment. Instead, M’bela coolly scanned the classroom without any sign of approval. It wasn’t unexpected, as she was hardly a woman who praised freely. When her eyes stopped on him, Drak knew what was coming.

 

“You.” Pointing directly at his chest with a smug look on her face, she added, “Tell me your thoughts on the matter.”

 

Drak sighed, then answered without straightening from his relaxed pose against the wall. “Sadly,I know little. I’ve heard many stories, most of which sound too wild to be believed and I won‘t state them as fact. So I’ll only share my own thoughts, as un-informed as they are. I suspect much of what she,” at this point he nonchalantly waved in the female student’s direction, “said is true. Trollocs are large, dumb brutes suitable for killing the weak or overwhelming the fearful. More than that, I wouldn’t care to guess.”

 

Casually meeting M’bela’s gaze, Drak was momentarily certain she was going to lash out at him, but she merely eyed him sternly before turning to her next victim. Drak couldn’t completely stifle the small sigh that escaped as her gaze left him, but he was certain he wasn‘t near enough to anyone that it had been overheard. Pretending he hadn’t been the least been intimidated, he turned to look at the corpses on the floor. Before long, I will be the one who has the power. Until then, I will remember everything.

"Very well, it is not much you know of such a usefull resource, these are part of the shadow army as well as the lot of you are. A general is no one without soldiers, and soldiers can not manage long in heavy wars without camp followers to help them tend equipment, make food and so forth..." M'bela paused a moment, "You are here learning to channel it will put you up towards the top of the ladder if you swim the rigth curents, but it does not make any one of you ireplacable, and neither imortal. An assasins arrow in your back, hordes of trolloc, darkhounds, fades...They are all part of this army you need to find your place in, let the power get to your head and you migth find its the last thing you do." She let the words sink in.

 

"The one power can only do so much, the great assesment of the trollocs is their size, they are force brute warriors and we have lots of them. They are divided into 12 Tribes, Ahf'frait (whirlwind), Al'ghol (Worm), Bhan'sheen (black hood), Dhjin'nen (Winged Thunderbolt), Ghar'ghael (Black Tower), Ghob'hlin (Ant), Gho'hlem (Flaming Fist), Ghraem'lan (Laughing Mask), Ko'bal (blood red trident), Kno'mon (empty badge), Dha'vol (wolf-Trollocs head), and the Dhai'mon (Iron Fist).

 

Ahf’frait

 

Birds of prey formed the core of this tribe at one time. While subsequent intermixings have widened their genetic makeup, their emphasis is still as scouts and commandos; theirs is a lethal mixture of speed, strength, and supernaturally good eyesight.

 

Al’ghol

 

Carrion birds–crows, vultures, and their ilk–make up this tribe. They delight in decay, and their favorite food is anything that’s been exposed to the elements for a few days. Their skills in combat are nothing special, nor is their intelligence, but their ability to survive on a warpath with negligable provisions is their strongest trait.

 

Bhan’sheen

 

A new tribe by comparison; a rebirth of the ancient Dha’vol, devoid of their parent tribe’s subsequent mongrelization. Purestrain wolf-breeds dominate the Bhan’sheen; pack hunters, pack killers, they are some of the most feared Trollocs in the Blight.

 

Dhai’mon

 

Some of the most successful all-around creations of the Aurani, the Dhai’mon are pure feline breeds, unsullied by the blood of what they view as ‘lesser’ races, except on the blades of their massive scimitars. Though lacking the physical strength and stamina of the Bhan’sheen, the Dhai’mon make up for it with their exceptional speed and their phenomenal intelligence; in terms of pure brainpower, this tribe far exceeds any other ever created.

 

Dha’vol

 

Once wolf-breeds formed the core of this tribe; but the Breaking scattered the ancient Dha’vol, and to survive they assimilated other species wantonly into their ranks without prejudice. They have no specialized traits to distinguish them from other tribes, save their numbers; and their willingness to take any breed of Trolloc into their tribe makes them useful in a variety of circumstances.

 

Dhjin’nen

 

This tribe was built for stealth, and drew most of its original genetic makeup from lizards, skilled beasts in camouflage. Although, like other tribes, the blood has become somewhat more mixed, still the preferred role of the Dhjin’nen is as a scout or skirmisher.

 

Ghar’ghael

 

Another of the tribes that originated after the Breaking, the founders of the Ghar’ghael tribe were drawn from among the sturdiest, most keen-eyed Trollocs, with the most stamina, of their former brethren. Employed as guards, the Ghar’ghael patrol the gates of Thakan’dar, and the mountain passes are always watched by their vigilant eyes.

 

Ghob’hlin

 

Larger reptilians made up the original composition of the Ghob’hlin, and this is reflected in their single-minded pursuit of food and fighting. Wherever the fighting is thickest, Ghob’hlin are sure to be found, and they throw themself into the fray with such glee that often they don’t notice that they’ve received a mortal wound until after they’ve slaughtered a half-dozen more of their enemies.

 

Gho’hlem

 

Ursine to the core, only the strongest are permitted to survive in this tribe. The bear-breeds of the Gho’hlem form the backbone of any Trolloc army, an anvil for the other tribes to hammer an enemy against. Though their numbers are small, their skill in battle is legendary.

 

Ghraem’lan

 

These trollocs, drawn from the more disreputable echelons of the canine race, have taken the Trolloc definition of ‘fun’ to a new level. They enjoy hurting things, including each other if no viable targets are available. Like most bullies, the hyenas, foxes, and other dog-likes of the Ghraem’lan are also inveterate cowards, and skulking is also considered one of their favorite pastimes.

 

Ko’bal

 

The Ko’bal are practically the archetypal Trollocs. Though once they were composed solely of bovine and taurian breeds, they are now made up of every species imagineable. They take perverse pleasure in inflicting pain over and above their victims’ capacity, and are not above continuing to abuse a corpse after it has given up and snuffed it. Then they eat it. What more can be said?

 

Kno’mon

 

Outcasts, weaklings, cowards, and bureaucrats. Bureaucrats? Indeed, for this tribe, formed from the dregs of the others, has found a way to capitalize on the utter uselessness of its members as warriors; the Kno’mon handle the logistics of the march. Those with intelligence rise to the top of the ranks; those without become thralls and drudges. Either way, the Kno’mon are essential to the warpath."

M'bela paused, "Now as you see there is much more to Trollocs then you likely first thougth. The information you learn in this class is information held to the shadow, and as should be, there are those out there who belive in trollocs, much bether them and theirs belive what you did when you first entered class today. Why? " she smiled, "ignorance is a weakness who soon can come to bite you in the back. Knowledge is a weapon you never should blow off. Now i will invite you to come up and study the two exemplares of trollocs i brougth in, its two young exemplares of the Dha’vol tribe, neither fully grown yet quite the size already. Feel free to investigate at your leisure to learn as much as posible, and after use the opertunity to walk the round of this room and have a look on the difrent skulls who are an asortement containing spiciments from all the types."

 

She waited till the class had finished their round, it was good to have a break up in theory, let them see some of it live to have a chanse to let the knowledge get some pegs to hang on.

"If you are all done and ready then i will finish the class with an brief explanation of the trollocs rank system." She waited till she had silent confirmation from all of them.

 

"Now as said there is 12 Tribes. Leader of each Tribe is called: The Warlord. Warlords are elected by Shaman who are Clan leaders.

 

Most trollocs on Tribes territory live in Clans, but there are also trolloc bands that do not belong to any Tribe but live on the Tribes territory all the same.

 

The largest military unit serving in a Tribe is a Horde. Hordes are made out of the warriors all the Clans have to send to the Warlord. Hordes are lead by Horde Leaders who answer only to their Warlord.

 

Under the Horde Leaders are Berserkers, who each lead one legion, roughly 1.000 warriors. An horde is normaly made up of 10 legions. Under Berserker is a Fist commander, still lower is a Claw Commander and then, a single Trolloc Warrior."

M'bela looked at the students who seemed in her mind to have goten their horizon broadened quite a bit. "Very well i think we will call that the end of class, before you go I would like to hear your view on Trollocs as a resource and a soldier now that you learned more, basicaly have this class changed your view on them and in which way?"

Drak chose his words carefully, as he leaned casually against the back wall. He was unwilling to suck up to M’bela despite the possible benefits. In his mind, being a bootlicker displayed too many negative characteristics to be of use, and weakness of any kind here was swiftly and permanently removed. Besides, he despised sycophants and would never allow himself to become one. However, he had learned a great deal from the lesson… and she would be expecting a thoughtful response. Tapping his finger on his bottom lip thoughtfully, he carefully considered his options before he answered. Every head turned to face him as he began.

 

“There is truly more to the creatures than first appearances would indicate. Their genetic differences indicate weaknesses and strengths for each of the 12 tribes, which in turn indicates an affinity for certain tasks and poor performance in others. Any military leader would need a thorough knowledge of such tribal differences in order to plan how best to use the beasts.

 

“Similarly, one would also need to understand their primal affiliations or certain failure would follow. You indicated that certain tribes are much more,” here he paused reflectively as he searched for the proper word, “receptive of non-tribe members, while others consider themselves to be more elite and violently shun outsiders. It would seem that knowledge of Trolloc ‘politics,’ for lack of a better word, would allow one to best motivate and incorporate a particular group into your plans.”

 

Crossing his arms in a deliberately casual manner (image counted for a great deal here and he constantly strove to convey cool, composed confidence), he arched an interested eyebrow at the cold-eyed instructor to await any comment. Today’s lesson was far from over.

Nosae quietly listened to his class mate and silently nodded and agreed with all that was being said, but he felt that the seemingly calm young man wasn’t expressing true desires in his response, he was being calculated and precise. That was all well and nice for others but Nosae was driven by his desires. His passion was the only thing that helped him reach his current place in life. And so he didn’t really think his answer, he didn’t exactly blurt out his response, but it was impulse and instinct that drove it out of his mouth.

 

“Excuse me Mistress M’bela, I agree fully with him.” Nosae said as he chin-signaled towards his fellow adept, “Knowing the different types of trollocs would definitely change the tide of a battle. But does knowing which kind of trolloc follows authority better and which tribe shuns outsiders help in any way if one doesn’t apply an iron hand to the commanding? Taming wild beasts like these is not a task to be dealt with lightly. I’m guessing ordering around a trolloc without force is likely to get oneself killed right? Orders without force are nothing…”

 

And on that note Nosae ended his opinion on trollocs and awaited a reaction or response from the others present in the room. But before anyone even opened there mouth Nosae got his responses in the form of somewhat lethal glares. Maybe they had been glaring since he had walked into the room and he had just noticed, whatever the case he felt quite threatened , threatened enough to almost grasp for the One Power...

A week had passed as M'bela found herself down in the basement again. Awaiting her students, mayhaps some had learned enough even from last class to try and think beyond the aparent stories they had heard about spawn.

When the class was there in full she started the class.

 

"Glad you all are back, hopefully it means you find this class worth the time it takes, a very wise realisation." She started walking around gesturing with her hands, "shadows, that is what its about today..." she pointed at numerous extra shadowy parts of the room, "Myrddraals they can come out of any shadow there is.." she spun around on her students. "..for any of you who been to the borderlands you as such would know the custom of the cities, a precaution they take wisely."

 

Having finished her round she stoped. "Now Fades as known has many a name, neverborn beeing one of them, and we will start the lesson by coming to an understanding of how this solitary creature earned that name." She took a pause. "However first i want to hear what you know yourself of these creatures, what stories have you learned of them, and maybe with the last class in mind, how much of these stories do you belive to be true?"

 

She waited till all had answered before continuing. "Okey then back to the story, now if we had Aginor here he migth be the one to best answer questions, but the fact is even he had problems understanding the mutation that the fades is. Another of the chosen had an theory though.

Rahvin.." she let the name hang in the air a litle "..he came to his own conclusion as is following."

 

"Now as known a fade is born of a trolloc, the theory is though that the human part, the soul part of the trolloc like other humans, like you" she passed a look to every one, " at times would be containing the spark to channel, and when this happened the one power would battle the true power who is integrated into every single spawn as part of their foundation."

 

She grinned, "as the two battles it out and the one power is destroyed, at that same time is the unborn trollocs soul destroyed. The true power then trying to keep the body alive despite having lost the important part of self that is the soul, it tryes to find a replacement for the soul in the world of shadows. So when the fadeling is born as a result of the fierce 3rd plane battle, its unlike its parents, human and any animal, indeed a neverborn."

 

She let the words sink in once again, that the fade was a product made of some of the same power that had placed the students here at the fortress.

 

"To sustain life for It, True Power that is in limited supply in ones body, takes a lot of life power from the mother, such is the case, when a new Myrddraal is born it is often ahead of time and in most cases, the mother dies when it gives birth. The Myrddraal now has one chance to link a trolloc closest by, should there be no trolloc of a weak mind in the vicinity, the new-born myrddraal is destined to die. Should however a trolloc of simple enough mind present itself soon enough, the new born myrddraal instinctively links the trolloc upon touch. With this initial link, the myrddraal will not be able to voluntarily link another trolloc until adulthood."

 

"It is up to the linked trolloc (usually the father or some blood-kin, it is a lot easier to link blood kin then a total stranger) to care for the myrddraal, and care it will, nothing in the world will matter to that trolloc more then the well being of the link holder. Myrddraal that made the link, thus spends years of his life building up strength in the shelter of one sole trolloc. Usually, this trolloc belongs to a Camp, but will avoid it for as long as possible. However, life is dangerous in a Blight for a lone trolloc and a baby-myrddraal, and usually a trolloc will risk the dangers of a trolloc camp to the dangers of the Blight proper."

 

M'bela took a break, she knew the information could be much to digest, and she had hated lectureres who talked on and on without any breaks. She took her time to study her class, wondering how they would face the end of the class.

"Trollocs care not for Myrddraal, yet they do not hate them. Whence a trolloc with a myrdraal baby comes back to his own camp, one will not be turned away automatically. However, trollocs have learned what myrddraal-babies become when they grow up and as such, there will allways be a big chance for some accident to befall an unprotected Myrddraal baby. For as long as the myrddraals protector is close by, trollocs will usually not bother with the shadow child, but, should the protector be forced to leave the baby alone for a time to go hunt or would be ordered to go forage with the Claw, there would be some likelihood he would suddenly die while at home, Trollocs would eventually find the Myrddraal baby with a neck bent in an unatural way, or the head crushed, or the cradle empty, maybe only leaving a spot of blood where it once slept"

 

[i)"Until adulthood and introduction in the circle, the common name for Myrddraals with no official title is “Fadelings”. It is how they are addressed since baby-steps to the point of adulthood where they join in the food hunts and battle-skirmishes. The older theFadeling, the stronger it’s gaze becomes, yet it will not be allowed into the Myrddraal circles until it links again. A trollocs life expectancy is 40 years, a Myrddraals life excpectancy is 100 years and more, and as such, whence it comes of an age to be able to link by will, it will already be above 20 years and will in most cases already had lost it’s protector. Should that not be the case, the Fadeling would not be able to grow at a fast enough rate in it’s own powers and will be hindered by the dead weight of an old trolloc. Once a Myrddraal learns how to link, it is possible to let go of the link without killing the trolloc, however, the “baby” link is not breakable until the linked father figure dies"[/i]

 

M'bela lifted her gaze against the back of the room, she had made sure ever since her round to keep the students look on her. None of them either would have known her holding saidar as she had hid her ability to channel, and as surely she doubted that these younglings saw to deep into things to wonder why they didnt registrer the ability in her, as was it was a thing you didnt get steady in reading till one had practised it for quite some years, by then most had been raised into the ranks of the dreadlords or died.

 

"Now if you are done consuming the info then you will turn slowly and keep yourself controlled, any atempts on channeling will be met with shielding." she had several weaves ready as was. Watching the class with a ever searching look as they turned and would come to see the fade in the other end of the hall, quite on safe distant from them, she herself focused on the class to not see the look. Though by experince when in control of herself she could break it, the present of the myrdraal made her uneasy and but her selfcontrol allowed her to not show that to her students.

 

Yet it was a nessesity, if they where to use trollocs there would be fades, as was even such they would need fades at times to drive the hordes. And as such would need to learn to control themself around one, not something she would expect to come in one day, but yet this was a good a time for an introduction as any.

 

Satisfied of the effect she signaled for the creature to be gone and slowly forced herself to let go of the one power, then swallowed before speaking.

 

"That will be it for today, we will meet again in a week" As soon as the class was gone she was happy to close of the room and wander up to her own rooms seteling down with a cup of calming tea, foul creatures they where.

She goes by many names, Ayrik thought as M'bela introduced herself. When he had sworn his oath to her, she had called herself Miss Alviam, and the knowledge that she had imparted to Ayrik had served him well. Developing a new character in himself had taken some time, but Ayrik had made himself become one of the members of the Fortress whom most people avoided. "You may start telling me what you know, have heard or belive about Trollocs, then the rest of you can add in what you know and then i will fill it in with some history and at end of class you will be given a chanse to study the dead exemplars i have behind me."

 

Listening to the only female student in the class, Ayrik nodded occasionally as he listened. In Tar Valon, there were two kinds of people: those who believed in Trollocs, and those who didn't. The Aes Sedai were certainly in that first group, as were any Darkfriends. Ayrik's knowledge of the creatures boiled down to two simple facts: they existed, and they were servants of the Great Lord. As the Dreadlady confronted Drak, the man he had met on his first day in the Fortress, Ayrik found himself glad that she didn't confront him. Having his mistress angry at him would not bode well. Before she could ask him, Ayrik answered her question, "Fact-wise, I've know two things about Trollocs: they exist, and they were created to serve the Great Lord. Other than that... The stories say that they were created by one of the Chosen- Ishamael, if the source of that story is to be believed." As the Dreadlady's gaze passed him by, Ayrik nearly sighed.

 

As the Dreadlady continued with a description of the twelve Trolloc tribes, Ayrik linked traits with insignias. As a Dreadlord, he would likely be commanding troops. However, knowing who- or what- he was commanding would be useful. As she spoke, Ayrik found himself finding a semblance of appreciation for the creatures. They may not be as intelligent as a man, but they were still cunning, if still a touch lazy. And they would be the ones on the front line of the battle, not him. Ayrik appreciated that. Better that they die than he. The Dreadlady finished the presentation with, "Very well i think we will call that the end of class, before you go I would like to hear your view on Trollocs as a resource and a soldier now that you learned more, basicaly have this class changed your view on them and in which way?"

 

Instead of hanging back the way that he had before, the man who called himself Drak spoke up first. He had seen everything pretty clearly; it was a point in his favor with Ayrik. The almost arrogant cast of his attitude, though, never ceased to grate on him. As useful an ally as he may be, Ayrik didn't think that he could ever see himself becoming overly-fond of the man. Another Adept, a man that Ayrik had never met before, spoke up. Ayrik found himself slightly amused by the man. He had a valid point; order without strength to enforce was useless. However, he seemed a bit timid. The glares that were shot in his direction after his comments were more evidence of that. When his turn came to answer, Ayrik found himself trying to find something that he could say that hadn't been covered. "It's also important to note that, despite the intelligence that many of these creatures may bear, their beastial natures will probably make them abandon tactics for bloodlust. His 'iron fist,'" Ayrik added, pointing to the second speaker, "would be nessecary to ensure that they stayed with the plan. Unless, of course, the Shadow has some other means of controlling them."

 

As the class was dismissed, Ayrik lingered behind, taking another look at the two specimens. Great Lord, but they reeked! However, even in death, the creatures seemed to bear some sense of power, of destruction and death. A truly remarkable, if grotesque, creature.

****************

 

The following week found the entire class gathered again. The Dreadlady was not out to take any prisoners, it seemed. Strolling through the class, she spoke. "Shadows, that is what its about today. Myrddraals, they can come out of any shadow there is. For any of you who been to the borderlands you as such would know the custom of the cities, a precaution they take wisely." Ah, so they were going to be discussing the Eyeless today. Myrddraal had always fascinated Ayrik. The stories of their deadly grace and cunning were enthralling to a child raised in the Shadow.

 

When bidden to speak, Ayrik hesitated only a moment. "I've heard several stories about Fades. They say that they stand twenty feet tall and have eyes that blaze like fire, though anybody who's ever listened to most of the stories know that Fades have no eyes. They're one of the most deadly creatures in the Shadow." Pausing for a moment, Ayrik shrugged and added, "And apparently they can travel in shadows." He hadn't known that. He only half-listened as the rest spoke. It had taken him quite some time to work his accent out of his voice, leaving nothing behind with which his origins could be identified.

 

When the class had answered, the Dreadlady started into the lecture full-tilt. Starting with what made a Fade, M'bela went on to describe how a Fades were raised. The whole thing was actually rather interesting. Ayrik looked forward to the day that he could actually meet one. "Now if you are done consuming the info then you will turn slowly and keep yourself controlled, any atempts on channeling will be met with shielding." Quizzically, Ayrik looked at the Dreadlady, wondering why she would be warning them such. Slowly, Ayrik spun in his chair, turning to see what it was that-

 

Ayrik's arms dropped numbly to his sides. He could feel his face freezing into a look of fear, his skin crawling. Ayrik didn't even think that he could have touched saidin, even if he had been allowed to do so. The... thing standing at the back of the room... Black was the only way to describe it. Black cloak, black armor, black hair. There was no gleam, nothing that would even hint that the creature was alive. Its lips were peeled back in a sadistic grin. It must have been able to see the reactions of those before it. And it was enjoying them. Slowly, the maggot-white face turned to him. It didn't have eyes- Ayrik had known that it wouldn't- but Ayrik could still feel it staring at him. And he was afraid.

 

Slowly, the creature turned away from the group, its motions evoking no movement in the dead black cloak hanging from its neck. It stepped into a nearby shadow... and disappeared. The shock of it's sudden disappearance was enough to bring Ayrik back to his senses. Great Lord, if that thing would have wanted to kill him... It was more than unsettling.

"That will be it for today, we will meet again in a week." Ayrik had never been more glad of an excuse to return to his room. That creature, that... thing... It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't obviously noticed everything in the room without any eyes!

 

 

-Ayrik Drayven

Adept

Drak silently absorbed the lesson. The Dreadlady’s words finding fertile ground in his mind. Who knew what tidbit of knowledge could prove useful in the days and years to come?

 

"Shadows, that is what its about today. Myrddraals, they can come out of any shadow there is. For any of you who have been to the borderlands you as such would know the custom of the cities, a precaution they take wisely."

 

Hmmm… Fades were one of the most fear-inspiring creatures of the Dark. Although he knew practically nothing of them, everything he had heard or read since he had been here promised they were deadly. He had even heard that the Aiel had an expression… “the look of the Eyeless is fear” or something like that, and Aiel were supposed to fear nothing. Standing alone in the shadows at the back of the room, he considered that M’bela had something dramatic planned for today because he saw nothing that resembled a Fade in the room.

 

"However first I want to hear what you know yourself of these creatures, what stories have you learned of them, and maybe with the last class in mind, how much of these stories do you believe to be true?"

 

When his turn to answer came, he said nothing more than, “I knew less than what you’ve already told us.” He didn’t want to portray himself as a know-it-all, especially when he didn’t, and he wanted to keep his peers unsure of him. Then, as she continued getting responses from the class, he reconsidered her first comment regarding shadows and the dramatic gestures that had accompanied her statements. On a hunch, he casually strolled over to a well-lit area as if to better hear what the other students had to say. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, looking completely at ease.

 

The lecture continued, filled with insightful specifics about the maturation of the deadly Shadowspawn. It was incredibly informative. His attention was fully on M’bela as she walked around the room, and he didn‘t have to fake it at all. She completed her circuit, returning to her position at the front of the room and dropped a bombshell.

 

"Now if you are done consuming the info then you will turn slowly and keep yourself controlled, any attempts on channeling will be met with shielding."

 

Drak looked into the shadow she pointed to, the same one he had been standing in earlier!, and saw death incarnate. His teeth clenched, trying to hold in the sounds of his terror. His arms crossed so casually before, now gripped his body in a futile attempt at comfort. The myrdraal was coated in dead black armor that made midnight look like high noon. Its hair matched his armor, while his maggot-white face looked like a deathly-pale man’s except for the skin where its eyes should have been. Its lips were turned up in a sick parody of a smile. He couldn’t look away. He felt like a bird caught up in a serpent’s gaze. It seemed to be delighting in the effect it was having on the class. Its apparent pleasure made Drak want to snuff it out, but he couldn’t seem to think straight. He focused all his thought on gaining control of his fear and staring it straight in the face.

 

He failed miserably, but no one else noticed because they were all suffering the same fate.

 

Finally the Eyeless turned, as smoothly as the snake its armor resembled, and disappeared. Its cloak never rippled.

 

"That will be it for today, we will meet again in a week."

 

He forced himself to be the last to leave the room. His defiant stare into the shadow the Fade had ridden was pointless, but it was a necessary step for him to gain control over his fear. He would control it. Control over the myrdraal would come later, but it too would come. With time.

Nosae returned to the basement where he would learn and grow more than he knew. In fact this time around he was going to getting a bit more than he was expecting a true sight into the eyes of fear…

 

His guide through the shadowspawn, M’Bela, initiated today’s class with a truly frightening comment. "Myrddraals they can come out of any shadow there is..." The implications of this fact made hid quiver a bit. They could be anywhere really. It truly made him feel that the Shadows claws were indeed long, lethal and ever present. He reminded himself mentally never to let his affiliation with the Dark One waver, he’d never be able to stop the hunt. But he pushed the thought out of his mind, the Myrddraal were on his side, he’d sworn to be dark through and through.

 

“However first i want to hear what you know yourself of these creatures, what stories have you learned of them, and maybe with the last class in mind, how much of these stories do you believe to be true?” His opinions and comments on the Fades would be scarce seeing as how he’d never actually seen one, and had always lived a closed life in very private quarters. But some things were whispered about them, the moonless night quality of their clothing, how their blood could ruin the best of steel and the sickly quality of their skins. When his turn to speak came up he said as much and stated how he had no reason not to believe any of this.

 

When everyone present had spoken their minds about Fades, the dreadlady launched into an absorbing monologue of the birth raising and adult life of the Neverborn. Nosae almost felt sorry for it, living among beings who would rather have you dead than alive was something he knew about. But he caught himself before he fell for it, these were creatures that became horrific twists of reality, anything that could defy so many laws of reality had to be something of incredible worth and power.

"Now if you are done consuming the info then you will turn slowly and keep yourself controlled, any atempts on channeling will be met with shielding." Nosae should have seen it coming, but he didn’t. As he turned around he saw it, he’d never seen one before in his life, but that dark cloak and pale complexion were too telling. He was able to study his features for only a second more before he was painted in the color of dread. He was too frightened to even think, he wanted to scatter himself into thousands of pieces and avoid that gaze… that eyeless gaze. He wanted to break away from the stare but it was strong, as if a few dozen men were holding his face in place for the leer slaughter.

 

Nosae was pretty sure other thoughts ran through his mind but for all the power in the world he couldn’t remember. The stare of the Myrddraal stuck with him long after the Fade had stepped into the shadow, in fact it stuck with him even after he was safely in his quarters with the less amount of shadows as possible.

M'bela waited patiently, yet another class going to be passed today, she did hope her students where over finding themself face to face with a fade last time. It had been a week they should, as well as learning an important lesson by meeting one. Rank wise they migth when raised be able to pull ahead based on their abilities, but that didnt mean they could think themself owners of the world, they where mortals too.

 

She waited till all was in the room. "Very well, dark hounds, tell me about them." she leaned casualy back towards the wall listening, there where quite some amusing myths out there on this spawn. When all had given their opinion she started speaking.

 

"These spawn with an canine building stone was first created for the task of guarding, then only later used also to hunt down victims in packs. These beasts have the size of ponies, and run as fast as horses, they are dark as the night, and not easily diverted from their hunt.

 

The smell is quite distinct and maybe one of their more known features, that of sulphur, and they only leave footprints in stone. Like fades they have a dislike for water, but rather then runing one its rain and storms that will keep them in, though if already hot on a trail even that will not be enough.

 

Faced with beeing hunted by darkhounds there is only one outcome and its death, to you or to them, the first more easily atained as their bite and spit is poisonous, while they are extremly hard to kill in turn."

 

She pulled out from the wall, "now though if you will follow me I think all in all the best way to understand is by live impresions, something you should be used to by now." She lead the way way through a backdoor and up a small stair untill they accessed a gallery, walking forth to the rail sorounding the pit in the midle she looked down. It was a whole floor down to the botom and the walls where slick, there was no climbing out of the pit. Already a man was milling around down there, afraid but unknowing of what to come.

 

She nodded towards the other side where a man, a servant, stood and he pulled a rope coming up through the floor in the gallery on their oposite side, a gate opened down in the pit and they could hear an erie howl, then slowly windgusts brougth up wifs of sulphur. She looked to her sides and studied her students, then she heard the sound of foots trotting against floor drawing closer, soon now...she looked down again.

The Fade's gaze still clung to Ayrik's mind as he returned to class the next week. Against all instinct, he forced himself not to peer into the shadows, looking for that pale, eyeless face. Great Lord, the nightmares had only stopped a few days ago. Satisfied that there was nothing waiting to leap out of the shadows at him, Ayrik settled back into his spot and waited for the Dreadlady to begin the class. M'bela wasted no time. "Very well, dark hounds, tell me about them."

 

Ayrik blinked once in surprise. Darkhounds actually existed? Trollocs and Myrddraal, Ayrik had known existed through the histories of the Trolloc Wars and such, but Darkhounds were another matter. Feeling a bit awkward, he spoke out. "Well, the stories say that the Great Lord and the Darkhounds participate in the Wild Hunt, though if the Great Lord were free, he wouldn't have to follow a pack of Darkhounds. Other than that, I know nothing." Quietly, Ayrik listened to the others answering, glad to know that he wasn't the only one that didn't know enough.

 

With the final answer, the Dreadlady launched into the lecture on the creatures. Ayrik found himself engrossed by what he was hearing. Idly, Ayrik wondered whether anybody had tried to use one as a warmount; they sounded large enough. You'd probably get your leg torn off if you tried, he thought with a touch of sadistic amusement. It was strange to think that any creature could leave footprints in stone. That seemed impossible, though doing what he did must seem impossible to some, too.

 

It was all that Aryik could do not to show the mental groan that he unleashed when the Dreadlady said, "now though if you will follow me I think all in all the best way to understand is by live impresions, something you should be used to by now." Rising, he followed M'bela and his classmates through a small door and up a flight of stairs. The room was of curious design, a round gallery with a rail in the middle around a pit built into the floor. Ayrik approached the railing, peering over into the shadowy depths; the room below must have been larger than the single shaft of light into the depths showed. His eyes immediately locked onto the man wandering through the shadows in the depths. It was only then that Ayrik noticed the smell, like... Sulfur, he thought grimly. It was faint, almost beyond smelling, but it was there. Out of the corner of his eye, Ayrik noticed a servant pulling on a rope drawn through a smaller hole in the floor. A grinding sound, like steel on stone, reached his ears, and the smell of sulfur was impossible to miss.

 

It started quietly, an eerie, sinister howl that seemed to echo from the distance. Another one sounded, and the sound of trotting footsteps gradually made itself clear. Something was coming. Quickly, his eyes darted from the pit to his oathmaster. She seemed to be studying them for some reason, maybe gauging their responses. The footsteps sounded, even closer than they had before, and Ayrik flicked his eyes back to the scene below. The darkness below made it nearly impossible from his vantage point to see anything other than the occasional shift in the shadows. Another of those sinister howls sounded, causing the man below to begin wailing in terror. He returned to the center of the circle of light cast by the room above, as if it would help him. Doubtlessly, he knew that there were people above him, but he never begged for help.

 

A sudden flash of light in the shadows drew Ayrik's attention. It was as if the light were reflecting off something... big. Squinting into the shadows, he discerned what it was: a bared set of teeth. The pit suddenly came alive with growls and vicious barks. His wails replaced by panicked screams, the man finally lost what little courage he may have had. Looking up at the circle of faces, he began to beg for help, for somebody to pull him out of the pit. A paw stepped into the light, as black as a Myrddraal's cloak. Ayrik traced its outline in his mind, his eyes widening as he put the paw to scale: it was massive. Soon the face of the creature came into view, all teeth and foamy saliva. A fearsome creature, to be sure. Out of the corner of his eye, Ayrik noticed more of the creatures stepping into view. The man's screams had stopped, probably out of sheer terror. The creature in front of the man crouched down, hunkering back on its haunches as if it were about to leap. The sudden storm of blackness that landed on him from behind was as much a surprise to Ayrik as it must have been to the man. The silence was broken by vicious growls, agonized screams, and a wet, tearing sound. Examining the scene, Ayrik found the source. One of the Darkhounds had sunk its teeth into the man's thigh, and was tearing away a sizable chunk of muscle, its formerly shining teeth now dulled and reddened with blood. The man screamed again, a terrified, agonized, bubbling sound.

 

It sounded good.

M'bela waited till the show was over, some of the beasts had been looking up but by experince knew they couldnt go there and it wasnt prey up on the gallery. And good for them, hard as they where to kill the OP would kill them for sure, it was the easiest way to do it, though steel would do it as well in a steady hand.

 

They had excited and but mere scraps where left behind, the port slammed down in place with a hollow ringing sound. "Come on, lets go" She walked halfway around the gallery and through a door, they soon emerged out of the tunnel they had entered and was met by another group. She looked at Maddox one of the older teachers and leader of this group and for sure the circle the group formed. Steeling herself she nodded, they made the shields and she almost bit her tounge not to snear when hers slid in place, filty thing. However she wouldnt leave her students and knew this was nesicary.

 

She watched their back as Maddox lead them out and the heavy stonedoor to the side of the room was closed. infront of them where a double set of bars, the futherest was to far away to be reached through the first. The bars in that went higher then the ones closest, there was a gate in both but they where both properly locked. The part of the room they where in was not big and the roof was normal heigth, the part beyond the bars reached up to the roof of the floor above.

 

high up on the wall was windows, and there was a gallery going out to them, a door opened and a woman came out on them, she walked to the closest window.

 

Then whisteled and a door who had been on crack opened and a man was pushed in before the door was thourougly shut. Then the woman opened the window, fastening it to the bars who made out a wall to both prevent a fall from the gallery as well as access to it, here too there was double bars.

 

M'bela knew the woman up there couldnt hear them, the ones serving for this was deaf. A small shiver went down her spine, she had thougth this class a couple times, but it was when she had been a student that again was in her memories as she heard the aproaching fliping of wings.

 

Looking up she saw it enter, she turned and saw the man go franatic and runing to the oposite side of the room, trying to hide from the draghkar. He needent have bothered, unlike the darkhound this one wouldnt hunt down the victim, instead it slowly sailed down into the midle of the room, and then started that crooning singing.

 

That aluring sound that would make you drawn to it, slowly though terified the man couldnt resist, and M'bela herself clutched the bar closest to her. With great will she opened her fingers and removed her hand from the bar and steped back a step as she watched.

 

All to soon the batle was over and that deadly kiss was given to suck the soul out of the victim. And then the spawn was on its wings again and flew out of the window which was now shut.

 

M'bela waited, then felt the shield be released and soon Maddox entered to open the gates in the bar so she could lead her students in.

 

"And this is the result of a draghkar kill" she motioned to the limp body on the floor. A door opened where the man had been tossed in through, she looked at the woman who had been on the ledge, not someone to toss aside, the woman was a weak dreadlady, and after going deaf there was litle use of her out in the world, to many limits to her, but here at the fortress she served with those dealing with such as the spawn, leading them as such, and had for long.

 

Following her was the stink of animals and M'bela watched as two trollocs entered. "Step aside" this was the closest they had been to live shadowspawn, at all times the spawn had been kept at distance from her students, now more resilant new tests where needed. Maddox was still in the shadows, he would know instantly if any of her male students reached for saidin as she would if her female one reached for saidar. Hopefully the class had thougth them enough not only of theory but also selfcontrol.

 

She looked cool eyed on the wolfsnouted Bhan’sheen, two of them to pick up the dead body, food for them, bether then waste it all. Yellow wolfish eyes looked back on them from one, and blue human ones from the other. She could see their nose work, "get going..you got what you came from" one of them barked a gutural crude reply but then they where off.

 

"I think that will be quite enough for you all for today, we will finish this class in a weeks time, the normal room." She lead them to familiar hallways before dismissing them.

Nosae had done wonderfully in forgetting his experiences from last class, but having to return to the dungeons was enough to make his skin crawl again, he might be all powerful one day, but he thought even that day he’d be illuminating the shadows and watching ever vigilante for the threat in the dark cloak.

 

In fact he just couldn’t concentrate, it all went back to that, but he did his best to listen to M’Bela. Today’s subject was Darkhounds, nothing surprised Nosae anymore, after the existence and study of Fades and Trollocs he was sure even trees could walk and talk. He had nothing to add to the flow of opinions and beliefs of Darkhounds, even the myths and stories he’d heard had been second hand and not much information, only that they were giant beasts that could run like the Dark One himself was after it. But still he said what little he knew to keep the flow of the class going.

 

But the things M’Bela had to say about it was fascinating, exciting even inspiring. The thing was indeed large but could run hard as a horse. Its bite was poisonous and it could leave its paw marks on stone, only the Creator knew how that was possible. "Now though if you will follow me I think all in all the best way to understand is by live impresions, something you should be used to by now." The words brought joy to Nosae, seeing such a creature in action would be amazing. The class followed M’Bela to a small gallery that opened on to a view of something similar to an arena, where there was a single man standing in the light everything else was pitch black.

 

There was a nod from M’Bela and a gate started opening and it came, the howling and the growling and the warning smell of the Darkhounds, sulfur. At first all that was perceptible were the beast sounds, but then as if shadows were detaching from shadows the hounds emerged. M’Bela’s lecture did them no justice, they were robust and powerful, graceful yet savage, and their kill was just the same. The man was there, but it could've been a deer or a horse for all the hounds cared. They took him apart piece by piece for lack of a better phrasing, but it was more like chunk by chunk. The man was there one instance and the next... it was as if he had disappeared not a mark or clue he had existed except in their memories. It was only a few moments but it seemed like hours to Nosae, the slaughter was beautiful in a very carnal way. Beasts like this one... oh they came around once in a lifetime, he silently wondered to himself what the OP could do to them, would he be able to put one down? Or would he just be a memory as well?

 

After it was all over, the Dreadlady decided one shadowspawn wasn’t enough for today. She lead the class lower into the Fortress, following an encounter with another Dreadlord, the class was barred into a small room. It was packed with the class, he wasn't sure what the smell in the air was but he was pretty sure it was fear, humid, suffocating fear. Even with all his One Power he was frightened silly, what if M'Bela let out a Darkhound in here? If you survived the Darkhound, someone's channeling was sure to get you. The best he could hope for was leaving with at least two of his memebers intact. He was about to embrace, when he was shielded shut from the Power, he dared not question it, but what was his Instructor playing at? Trapping them in here like rats and then shielding them? It was suicide. In his frenzied panic Nosae wondered what would happen now, another victim in the center of a room, maybe another close up look at the Darkhound? As long as it wasn't in here with them he was glad, he did however worry about the lack of light in the room... what if this was a final test? All the shadowspawn together somehow, he was about to panic when it finally emerged, the scaly winged shadowspawn. The victim seemed to want to run right through the wall, but failed miserably. Nosae found himself wanting to phase through walls as well, the crooning of the draghkar was… appealing, it was attractive in a way he couldn’t describe, he needed to get through. He pounded against the shield with all his might, it wouldn't budge, he pushed and pulled on the wall, to the point of banging on it, it wouldn't yield to him, but nonetheless he tried and tried, what if he never got to be close to that beautiful crooning? What if it disappeared forever from his life? But he saw something that immediately calmed the urge. The Bat-Spawn was waiting patiently, as a baby who waits for his mother to nurse it. The man had much will power to last for the few seconds that he did. But as sure as the sun rises, the man started his slow trek to the Dragkhar. There was inner turmoil, he wanted to, but he knew what would come. Sometimes you thought he was breaking through the curse, but no, he was enthraled. Would Nosae look like that one day? Walking surely and blindly to his death at the lips of a spawn? Maybe the man was happy to reach the source of the alluring music, personally Nosae was dying to reach the music. The victim certainly didn't seem happy was the kiss of fate was placed upon him, he looked worn, disdraught and then... And then the man was the man... but he was missing something, he was lifeless but in a very bland and blurry sort of way. "And this is the result of a draghkar kill" The man was a shell, less than what he had been and all because he couldn’t resist… he had been left with no soul.

 

With every single one of these classes Nosae truly began to appreciate the tools he would have at his disposal once he reached full status. They were fearsome tools, could one use tools that one was afraid of? Any one of these spawns could turn against you and then what would happen? You were doomed to rest in the belly of a hound or to have your soul extripated... He'd need the power he was training for in order to keep them in order but even so... there was little you could do when the spawn could literally attract you into your own death. He left the class trying with all his might to ignore any sounds that might sound... appealing.

Apparently the Dreadlady wasn't finished with them yet. Incredulously, Ayrik followed M'bela and the rest of the class through another door. A short walk through a tunnel led the entire group to yet another chamber. Another group was there when they arrived, their leader an older man who Ayrik didn't recognize. He and the Dreadlady shared a moment of silence before she nodded. Ayrik could sense saidin being woven, but he didn't know what-

 

The sudden sense of loss, of helplessness told Ayrik all that he needed to know. He had been shielded. Looking around at the reactions of the other students, the same had apparently happened to them. Why would they want to shield us? Is this a test? Uncertainty was not something that Ayrik enjoyed feeling, but it didn't seem as if he had much of a choice in this particular case. Like a herd of spooked sheep, the students were brought into the next room. The first thing that Ayrik noticed was the bars. Two separate sets of bars separated the room he was in from the cavernous chambers beyond. High on the wall was a catwalk leading across a row of what appeared to be windows or gates or something. After a moment, a woman emerged from a door on the same level and crossed the catwalk, stopping in front of the nearest portal in the wall.

 

The woman let out a shrill whistle, and for a moment, Ayrik thought that nothing else would happen. Then came the man. He was thrown into the room with a shout of surprise, and before he could react, the door behind him sealed shut. Just what are we looking at? And that's when the rustling sound reached him. The creature that hopped out of the opened gate up top was not anything that Ayrik was expecting. It looked like a small man, but with batlike wings sprouting from its back. Whatever it was, it made Ayrik uneasy.

 

The thing landed in the center of the chamber from the now-screaming man. Ayrik cocked his head curiously, wondering why it didn't pursue.

 

Then the creature began to sing.

 

Horror filled Ayrik's mind as he felt himself being inexhortibly drawn to the creature. Before he knew it, he was pressed against the bars of the room, trying to squeeze through. The man in the room fared no better, as he found himself walking towards the creature, his feet betraying his mind. Slowly, steadily, he stepped into the creature's waiting arms. Its lips touched the man, and the look of terror was replaced with one of ecstasy. Slowly the life seemed to drain from the man's face, and soon, the creature let the lifeless body drop and fluttered away.

 

With a grind, the gates opened, and the Dreadlady led them into the room. Ayrik looked about furtively, making sure that there were no more of the creatures in the room. "And this is the result of a draghkar kill," the Dreadlady said, gesturing to the corpse on the floor. Ayrik looked at it closely. There was no mark on the man, nothing to tell how he died. It was fascinating. A sudden stench reached Ayrik's nostrils. It seemed somehow familiar, except alive, as if... With a start, Ayrik stepped away from the body as the two Trollocs approached. They were close, closer than any of the other Shadowspawn that he had seen. It took everything that he had not to seize saidin and strike the ugly beasts down.

 

"I think that will be quite enough for you all for today, we will finish this class in a weeks time, the normal room." Following numbly, Ayrik reflected on the creatures that he'd seen. What else could possibly be covered in this class? Ayrik didn't know of any other Shadowspawn. Aye, but then again, you didn't know anything about that draghkar back there, did you? The thought left him uneasy as he left the classroom and returned to his room.

M'bela looked through the dim class room, last time for this time. The students

would soon be here, and they would go into the last of the more known spawn.

 

She waited till they where all present. "How many heard of Graymen? Who know

what they are?" Again measuring knowledge before lecturing, always good to know,

and it let her get to know the students bether, which could be usefull later.

Not as much the knowledge they had but how they presented it.

 

She waited till she had all the answers as usual and then continued. "Very well,

the major distinctiveness of these, are they are not a construction of Aginors.

Gray men or sometimes women, are of pure human stock, born human and only later

taking the step into non humaness. Unlike darkfriends including yourself, these

men and woman has done more then pledge themself to the Great Lord."

 

She smiled leting the words sink in, "Another name for gray men is souless,

these peoples give their very soul to the Great Lord. We will not get into the

exact reasons of why, as its knowledge retained on higher levels, however the

thougth of it may not harm you. What will make someone give up that much, cause

you will find times when you need peoples to give of themself in service to you,

and then you will need to motivate them to do so. Now however back to the

subject at hand."

 

She stroke a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, "By doing this, by becoming

soulless they become near invisble, graymen are splendid assasinators, cause in

most cases they will escape the normal eye, unless you know what your looking

for, know there migth be someone present then...then your eye will pass over

them without really registrering them, and its that skill of registrering that

something sliped your eyes...that is the one who will alert you of a graymans

presence..and allow you to search and spot it."

 

She smiled as she viewd her class, "so can anyone tell me how many are present

at todays class" To occupied with the lecture she was sure none of the class had

noticed the gray man who had joined them and stood but a few feet behind the

rest of the students.

 

She watched the effect as realisation hit her students and gazes started to

search, waiting till all had found what they sougth, then with a nod dismised

the creature.

 

"As a final sum up I want everyone to name the one thing they learned in this

course that they find the most valuable piece of information to themself, and

why they think so."

_________________

Nosae descended into the dungeon the same way he always did. As he descended he felt the gloom penetrate into his body. The last few lessons were something that stuck with him. He had developed fears that should leave a person after childhood, fear of the dark, dogs and bats. The respect he now held for these creatures was impressive, if he could control any of them he would be feared and respected as well. These classes would help him reach the top, each step, a spawn he would use.

 

It was all about Graymen this time around. After the whole class had filed in, M’Bela asked the routine question, of previous knowledge of this type of Shadowspawn. Incredibly enough Nosae knew a bit about them. The old Lord had used Graymen, for his own dark tasks, Nosae had eavesdropped enough to know how dangerous they could be. When his turn to speak came up he shared his thoughts: “Graymen are assassins of the dark. They’re imperceptible and even if they don’t have any other extraordinary skills being able to blend in perfectly as if they weren’t even there is enough to parallel with any opponent.”

 

After the room had spoken its mind, the Dreadlady went into an eerie explanation of the level of commitment the Graymen to the Dark Lord. They donated their soul to the Great Lord, because of their commitment. They were Darkfriends on a completely different level, but because of this they gained their skill, the ability of invisibility of sorts. They were so normal, so bland so… gray they just mended into the background. Your eye passed over them like just another piece of wall or furniture, nothing special nothing to notice, unless you were looking for them. Looking for that lack of something, for the emptiness where substance should be. The Soulless, the invisible, the Grayman.

 

He could never consider the level of commitment required to turn into one of them, giving up your soul. Pledging your life is one thing, but living a half life… it’s terrible. Convincing others of this is another prospect, fun almost. There would come a time when it’d be necessary to make others give something up, something of great value. It’d be a feat to make someone give up their soul, but that is why the Dark Lord is the Dark Lord, and Nosae is just Nosae.

 

“So can anyone tell me how many are present at today’s class?” M’Bela asked and Nosae immediately knew that there was a Greyman in their midst. He looked, but it took a while for him to spot it, towards the back of the room. His eyes wanted to look away, but he kept his gaze on the Grayman, he latched on tight to the sight, even if he was slipping. After everyone had finally caught on the Grayman was dispatched with a nod. In the few minutes that it required Nosae to find the Grayman he could’ve been killed at least 5 times in a dozen different ways. This was unacceptable, he’d have to train himself for this, and he couldn’t let himself be terminated by a walking piece of wall. He’d have to be careful, they could be anywhere anytime, and you never really knew when it would attack. He’d have to come up with a way to be ever vigilant or somehow detect its presence. In a way the Grayman was even worse than a Mydrall even in broad daylight they were dangerous and undetectable. Nosae had no idea how he would be able to sleep from now on, so many things that go bump in the night. All this could only be solved one way, power… in great quantity. He’d make them all fear to touch him even if he had to be ready for war while sleeping.

 

 

"As a final sum up I want everyone to name the one thing they learned in this

course that they find the most valuable piece of information to themselves, and

why they think so."

 

Nosae answered truthfully and from the bottom of his soul: “The one thing I learned is that the way of the Dark Lord has Horses of War that are dangers to everyone and everything. And if you don’t inspire fear or respect or both in them they will probably eat you alive, with no second thought.” He felt it wasn’t much to say, but it was what he felt, it made him aspire to even more power, not to mention he now respected the creatures of the Dark now that he knew their powers and he knew he was on the winning side of the war of the Dark Lord and the Creator.

 

He left the dungeon with a feeling of satisfaction, he was on his way to greatness and this was just the first step. As long as he wasn’t sidetracked for good by a shadowspawn attack, other Dreadlords were sure to stoop as low as to send shadowspawn to do dirty work, he’d have to be careful…

OOC: again, i apologize for being lax in my posting. thanks to the Dark Powers for being patient with me.

 

Drak kept his mouth shut except to say that he knew nothing of Darkhounds. On their way out of the classroom, he assumed his place towards the back of the group. Not at the back, but nearer it than the front. You could never be too careful.

 

When they finally arrived at their destination, it was obvious that the show would be down in the pit. Drak approached the rail in order to see, but he wasn’t so enthralled by the proceedings that he would lean over the railing. Who knew what kind of “accidents” might occur in training? Instead, he surreptitiously scanned the group for any hint of nervousness or timidity. It would be good to know if anyone was losing their nerve.

 

With the sound of a gate being opened, the smell of sulfur grew stronger. He placed his hands in his pockets, just to ensure that he wouldn’t be caught doing anything with them that could give away his feelings. He locked his gaze on the man in the center of the room, but his attention was elsewhere. As amazing as the facts were, M’bela had told them all that was necessary at this stage of their training regarding the beasts, and the death of some stranger was of no consequence to him. He was sure the Darkhounds were impressively brutal, but he had no desire to revel in the gore. It was wasteful, he thought, but looking away could be considered a sign of weakness.

 

So he looked inwardly though his gaze appeared to stare at the grisly scene, and he tried to block out the horrified screams and guttural ripping and tearing of flesh as the giant beasts dismembered the hapless man meat. Instead, he focused on the more important issue. How can I gain enough power to overcome such beasts if they threatened me?

 

When the lesson in wanton murder had come to a conclusion, he expected to head back toward individual studies. But M’bela had another lesson in store it seemed. They trekked downward into the depths until they entered a strange room with an oddly fashioned wall of bars on one side. Before he thought to ask what the bars were for, he felt a shield slide between him and the Source. His eyes widened at the loss, but before he could react, he heard startled gasps and saw looks of dismay appear on every other face in the class. They were all shielded.

 

There was nothing to see in the room so he ventured over near the odd wall of bars. There were two rows of them, one just of reach of the other. But when he got close, he saw the emptiness opened into a large, spacious cavity in the fortress. The ceiling was out of sight from his vantage point. What is this about? he thought curiously about the same time he heard a loud whistle.

 

A man shouting and a door slamming shut drew Drak’s attention back to ground level, and he saw another unwitting lackey who was already dead but just now beginning to realize it. Drak heard the rustle of wings as a vaguely man-shaped creature swooped down into the light, the giant batwings sprouting from its back the source of the sound. The man’s screams reached a frantic wail, but were silenced by an even more terrifying sound. The dragkhar began to sing.

 

It was an unnerving, horrid experience. A part of Drak’s mind was frantically trying to smack himself out of the daze he was in as his body yearned to give itself to the beast, but the part that was in control wasn’t listening. When the creature finally lured its victim into its arms and began its deadly kiss, its crooning stopped. Drak was shocked to realize he was pressed firmly against the inner row of bars, desperately reaching with outstretched arms toward the succubus. The only thing had kept him from being the next victim was the presence of the bars.

 

The gates banged open after the creature had finished its work and flew away, and the group entered the room to stare at the husk that moments before had been a man.

 

"And this is the result of a draghkar kill," M’bela said. The obviousness of her words somehow cementing the victim’s death. The appearance of two Trollocs was enough to snap him out his stupor, but he didn’t vapoize them as he wanted to do. The return of his self control was a cold comfort.

 

"I think that will be quite enough for you all for today, we will finish this class in a weeks time, the normal room," M’bela concluded as they exited the room. Drak wanted a bath.

Drak had never heard of Graymen. He listened as the various students provided their “knowledge,” much of which contradicted. When M’bela began her oration however, his ears grew large. As her recital continued, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He could appreciate the usefulness of the Graymen immediately, but at such a cost! He made a point to learn what such a sacrifice gained the individual who gave up so much. Certainly being an effective killer wasn’t the only reward.

 

M’bela smiled as she uttered a calm-shattering question. "So can anyone tell me how many are present at today’s class?"

 

Drak instinctively knew that a Grayman was present.

 

Quickly he scanned the room to find it, starting with those nearest his place in the back of the room. On his left there was Ayrik. The fellow who had actually known quite a bit about the Graymen. Nosae, I think his name is. The bony girl with the too long chin. The pretty girl with the narrow lips. The uncouth, longhaired Arafellan who no longer wore bells in his hair. Right behind his shoulder was the short, middle-aged man with a knife. Then on his right, was the tall girl with the large bosom and the horse face. The… hang on!

 

Quickly looking at each person again, he almost fell over when he realized the Grayman was standing next to his shoulder barely more than a pace away from him. “Blood and ashes!” he cursed softly, barely restraining himself from embracing the Power. But the rest of the class was so intent on finding the unnoticed visitor that he thought no one heard his startled profanity.

 

After all the students had finally located the Grayman, M’bela nodded a dismissal to him. Drak wasn’t sure if he had recovered fully yet, though. He was close enough to put that knife in my heart, and I’d have never noticed him.

 

M’bela snapped him out of his contemplation with her last request of the day. "As a final sum up I want everyone to name the one thing they learned in this course that they find the most valuable, and why they think so."

 

He listened to the points the other students made, and all were very true. But for him, there was only one thing to say. “The weapons of the Dark One are wide-ranging and powerful. It will take a strong hand to keep them in line. But if we can handle the burden, the rewards are unimaginable!”