Seizing the Power

[Marak]

Marak hurried along the corridor' date=' not wanting to be late to his first official teaching session with Michael, as, he was warned, if he was late, there would not be any punishment, but he would not be taught. Even in the Fortress, the safest haven of the Shadow, this could be deadly in itself.Of course, this lesson was the culmination of three, and this was to be the last one, to see if he could grasp the Power whenever he needed to.

 

He quickly ran over and over, in his head, what he was meant to do, to seize saidin. It was simple enough on its own, simply imagine a flame, and feed all his emotions in, one by one, fear, anger, hatred, joy, sorrow, and all such emotions. Only then would he reach a state of emotionlessness,and be able to seize the True Source, to wield as he would.

 

He stumbled on a loose bit of rock, falling over, grazing his hands on the rough stone floor. He cursed,and stood, slowly, brushing himself down, and checking to see if he'd dropped anything. Satisfied, he continued hurrying, not running, but the closest thing there was to it. He looked

around;the room he was to be taught in was only two corridors away, and, as it was, he only had a

minute to go.

 

He rounded the corner, and, completely by accident, hit a man, knocking both the man and himself to the

ground. He quickly apologised, and then felt that familiar source of menace, the one he had learnt about earlier, and was quickly pinned to the wall, the man looking at him coldly. He stammered out another apology, but the man looked unmollified. "Boy", he said, in a high, cold tone. "I am a

Dreadlord. Tell me, why should I not obliterate at you where you stand for offending me?"

 

Marak looked around hastily, struggling against the bonds that held him, before he managed to stutter

out, "T-the..p-peace of the Shadow!". The man looked mildly amused. "And, if I invert my weaves, who will ever know?". Marak redoubled his efforts to struggle free of the invisible bonds, jerking like a caught trout, trying every possible way to escape. He felt the menace return, stronger than before, and more bonds appeared, making his body immovable. He tried to scream, but a gag of air was thrust into his mouth.

 

He struggled vainly, and realised, then, he would die. As he closed his eyes, trying not to think of it, the bonds vanished, and Marak dropped to the floor."Foolish child",the man said. "Let this be a lesson to you. I will not kill you, as you know not who you have offended, but, as it is, I advise you be more careful from now on".

 

Marak nodded dumbly, as the man curtly turned his back on him, and walked off.Marak sped off in the opposite direction, flinging open the door. He was on time, but only by a few seconds..

 

...A few minutes later, Marak nodded his head, and tried, for the first time, to feed his emotions into the imaginary flame. First went hate, then anger, then sorrow, then joy. It was rudimentary, but he felt empty, and cool. He grasped for the One Power, attempting to wrestle it into his grasp, as he had just been told. He felt an elusive burst of life, and everything seemed brighter for a second, the colours more intense, all sound magnified. Pure joy filled his body, and he gave a small gasp in surprise. Then it was gone. The flame was gone, as was the Power. He looked up,

warily, and then realised he had not done badly, in fact, he had done well.

 

He nodded, and then tried again, sending his emotions into the flame, leaving nothing but a void behind. He reached for the Power again, and found..nothing. He muttered a curse, and was rewarded with a clip behind the ear with the One Power. He tried again. He fed his emotions into the flame, slowly, this time, and then quickly reached out, trying to hold the Power. It was like trying to hold water in a sieve. He sighed, and tried again. He fed his emotions in the flame, slightly faster, this time, and reached out. This time, he felt life fill him, and the world brighten, the colours again

become rich, the sounds, even to the smallest creak, he could hear. The pain behind his ear, almost faded, burned again in all the pain it had brought with the clip, and, this time, he became keenly aware of the torrents of frozen fire, the oceans of burning ice, all crashing down on him trying to destroy him. He fought, and retained his grip on the Power, trying to draw more, and more of this wondrous thing. The glory became greater, and tiny prickles of pain ran along his skin. He was in a state of near-pure ecstasy, he drew more, and..

 

He let go. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, harder than turning to the Shadow, harder than killing that man in cold blood. Harder than planning to walk to Shayol Ghul through the Blight, but, he let go. He sat there for a moment, suddenly noticing his exhaustion, and slumped in the chair he was sitting on. However, he listened, and then, after listening, tried again.

 

It was hard this time, hard concentrating, and making the flame. Halfway through, he simply couldn't do it, and sat there, breathing heavily for a few seconds, before trying again. He burnt his emotions, leaving only a void. He sat there, encased in the void, for a few seconds, a few seconds which seemed like an age. Then, slowly but surely, he reached out, and took hold of the Power. Only a trickle, a tiny stream, barely enough to notice, ran through him this time, perhaps a tenth of what he had used before. He held it, simply looking around,feeling life, and joy, flow through

him. He looked up at his teacher, who suddenly, for no reason, shielded him, and then dissolved the shield. Marak remembered, now. He quickly, focusing his mind and body to one point, made a flame, and swept his emotions through it, and, once in the void, seized saidin. Again, the shield.

 

He was tired, now, but, with great effort, he, even quicker than the last time, burnt away his emotions, and seized saidin. He looked at Michael, who, for one lengthy moment, seemed to be considering something. Then, after this infestimally long moment, the Dreadlord nodded.

 

Marak heaved a great sigh, and then barely heard the words that came after.

"Good enough. We will begin the real training tomorrow."[/quote']

 

 

 

"Bout time' date=' hurry up and take a seat. Yes, right there."

 

The cluster was actually a pentegram formed by the five bowls. A foot in diametre each, they were perfectly spaced out in a half circle, of which Marak was now taking his ease within. Michael in turn similarly had five bowls sitting before him on the same curve, each of them carrying their own power. In order from right to left, they ran; fire, earth, spirit, air and water. An eternally burning flame, a clod of earth, a ball of spirit invisible to the normal eye, eddying air and water to the brim of the last bowl, to a person embracing saidin the latent power was easy to see.

 

"Take hold of saidin and view the bowls before you, remember to maintain your control, holding only the slightest trickle of the power. Now view these bowls before you for each hold a different aspect of the world around us, from which our powers derive."

 

Gesturing to each of the bowls as he spoke, Michael ran through the elements. "Fire is red, and is primarily a male power, while there are women strong in fire they are far and few between. Fire is the most destructive element at your beck and call, yet the fire which can consume your enemy can also keep you warm on a cold night. Earth seems to be a quiet power, but with it you can dissolve a wall of stone, cause the very earth to shake. Like fire, it is primarily a male power."

 

"Spirit is an equal domain for both men and women. While it doesn't manifest itself to the eye without the one power, the fact it doesn't have a physical presence shouldn't fool you. Its used to hold larger weaves together that involve multiple elements, and by itself it can be used to confuse an opponent, drive them mad."

 

"Air is quite useful, though as a general rule it is a female power. You can bind opponents, gag them, hurl objects and some of the most powerful can even shift the clouds above or call down whirlwinds of tremendous strength. Water, like air, is a female power and like earth, tends to be underestimated. Yet, it is hard for someone to maintain their grasp on life when you draw the water from their body. You can make impure water drinkable, you can create a whirlpool to drag down ships. Water also tends to be a cardinal element in healing weaves."

 

"We will continue to work on your embracing of the source for the rest of this lesson. Soon, we shall work on basic weaves to allow you to develop your strength in wielding the different elements."

 

 

Michael Daemeau

Aurani[/quote']

 

 

 

 

Marak sighed' date=' and looked at the bowls carefully, listening to everything that was said. He knew there had to be different flows of the power, some.. felt, perhaps that was not the right word, but it was the only one he could find, he 'felt' the difference, some were red, and raging, some were calm, and blue, some were a mix of brown and green, and air was like a breeze tickling the bare skin. Spirit was hard to identify, and simply...was, it could only truly be identified because it was not like any of the others.

 

He released the Power, and left the room. He had been dismissed, and he had defintely had enough for one day, in fact, he felt drained, and slightly weak.

 

He walked off, looking for his quarters, one, amazingly enough, he shared with only one Darkfriend, considering the fact the Fortress wasn't exactly the emptiest of places. The corridors were luxurious, and, indeed, were not just simple carved stone, but had a degree of art surrounding them, walking through the Fortress was not just walking through a fortress, it was walking through a subtly disguised museum.

 

Marak rounded another corner, swivelling his head from left to right in order to make sure no-one else was around; he didn't want to run into anyone. He walked down another hallway, and another, and yet another. He couldn't find his way. Confusedly, he changed corridors again, and then, finally turned around, to find that his room had appeared right behind him. He opened the door, and stepped inside. No-one else was there, so he sat down, to think, about the Power, and about his next class...[/quote']

 

 

 

Marak slept' date=' in a deep sleep, a dreamless sleep, and he awoke, as the first rays of light came through his window. He still had time to grab breakfast, he reckoned, and still get to his class.

 

He strode down the corridors quickly, and turned left, and then right, making his way into the hall. He went up to one of the cooks, who worked there, they always seemed empty-eyed, and had to be given a direct order, so he said "Give me some toasted bread, and some butter.". The cook nodded, and got one of the metal bread-holders, and sat it over the fire, constantly turning it over, until it was brown. The cook then gave him some butter, which he spread on his bread.

 

He took large bites, and gulped it down, before getting a cup of water, and downing it in one gulp, and then asked for another piece of toasted bread. The fortress was a cold place, and the simple metal contrivance over the toasty hot fires made for a breakfast that was a quick way to break your fast, and it could be carried and eaten.

 

He spread butter on another piece of bread, and began chewing on it, as he walked to the classroom. He would be reasonably early today, he assumed, although he was sure that Michael would be there before him.

 

He walked quickly down one corridor, and then another, turning left, and then left again, then right, and finally, he reached the classroom. He swallowed the last bite of his bread, and wiped his mouth with a cloth he kept in his pocket, and then walked in, and looked around.

 

He sat down, and looked up, it appeared the other man was weaving something, and was about to speak..[/quote']

 

Marak watched the other man weave' date=' following the weaves with his eyes, and grasped the Power, trying to get a better view of them. He had been told he would be learning two basic weaves today, a useful one, and one to protect himself.

 

The first weave, was as a carpet might be, a simple weave, one which, although he followed as he might, he couldn't redo. He imagined the Flame and the Void, burnt his emotions, as quick as a wink, and then grasped the Power. It came somewhat more easily now, although battling with the seas of seething fire, the mountains of crushing ice, was still hard. He tensed himself as he took hold of the Power, and took joy, as life was enhanced, the colours filled the world, sound was magnified, and pure joy, and life, filled him. It was addictive, although not in the manner of a drug, that hurts you when you stop taking it. It was simply life, light, and joy, all that was good, and great in the world. It as as if he was touching the light of the Creator himself, it made him think, perhaps the Source was the Creator's parting gift to the world, perhaps.. No. It was far too late for such speculation.

 

He sighed, and tried to weave the ball of light, a thing of Air and Fire. The weave collapsed in a tangled snarl, dissolved as he released it. He wove again, looking more carefully at how the other man wove his. This time, a flicker of light appeared in the air, along with a wave of heat which heated the room up, only by a few degrees, but, strange, nonetheless. Marak looked at his weave, noting that he'd put about twice as many threads of Fire as he should've. He let go of saidin, looking at Michael's weave again, studying it carefully.

 

He enveloped himself in the Void again, it seemed a little harder this time, for some reason. Perhaps he simply did not have enough concentration. He concentrated on holding the Void, and.. lost it altogether. He cursed under his breath, and enveloped himself in the Void, remembering how he had done it before. He carefully burnt away his emotions, one by one, maintaining his hold on the Void easily. He reached out of saidin, and found...nothing. He frowned, and reached out again.

 

This time, saidin came to him, overwhelming him with the joy of life, the glory of existence, the distilled euphoria of the Power flowing through him. He wove, holding the weave with all the Power in him, and noted, with satisfaction, a ball of light appeared in front of him.

 

He shunted it a bit to the right, the ball of light flickering madly, and giving off heat, as it moved. He moved it up, and down, and left, right, every direction he could manage, until the weave was simply too hard to hold, then he let it go. He smiled, the weave was an easy one to master. However, he would have to to practice on making it heatless. He recalled the lecture on the Five Powers he had, when Micheal told him about individual strengths in each of the Powers. It would appear he had better strength in Fire than Air, making him compensate with his weakness in Air with a bit more heat, which came with light made with Fire.

 

He sat down, and released the Power. He nodded, and then smiled in gratitude. It would appear he would have lunch, which would take half an hour, and another half an hour, for recuperation, in order to be in peak condition whilst learning fireballs.

 

He walked down to the dining hall, and picked up a plate of cheese, bread, and a goblet of wine, he wasn't enamoured with vegetables, and fruit was generally in short supply, after all, this was the Blight, and people picked up necessities, not luxuries. He decided to add a few cooked leaves of cabbage, and a small bowl of some unrecogniseable stew, and dipped his bread in it, and ate the cheese with the cabbage. It was a satisfactory lunch, although it left him feeling slightly ill, so he went to his room, and sat down, leaning against the wall, while dozing off.

 

After about what he assumed was half an hour, he returned to the classroom, and sat down, again, on the chair, when with a tutor, it appeared both he and Micheal had the same tastes, it was pointless to stand.

 

The man wove a weave of pure fire, and held it, waiting for Marak to copy him. Marak all but leapt into the Void, and seized saidin, and then, to his surprise, wove a perfect ball of fire. He threw it around a bit, trying to be slightly careful, and then let go, and wove again. He wove two, and then three. He let go of the third and second quickly, as they were hard to hold, but held onto the first, finding it easy to move around, and smiled, as, of his own volition, he turned it first green, then blue, then purple. It appeared he had strength in Fire, some considerable strength, at least. He sank back into his seat, it appeared his lessons were over for today.

 

As he walked off to his room, he carried with him the instructions to master those two weaves, as he would be learning many over the next few months, although, he assumed, he would learn many, but master only a few, as to become a sword of the Shadow.

 

He collapsed into his bed, the Power took its toll of stamina, he felt tired, and simply slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep...[/quote']

 

arak awoke' date=' and quickly pulled on his clothes, tying the laces on his boots, and ran down to the hall, in which he ate. He was getting used to life in the Fortress, and, as he grabbed some toasted bread, spread some butter on it, and also got some meat, and wine, he realised he was enjoying this new life. It was not full of fear, nor of uncertainty, indeed, there was perfect faith in the Shadow, and hatred for those who had harmed him, but knowledge that he would exact his revenge.

 

He ripped one of the pieces of bread in half, melted butter dripping down his fingers, as he greedily wolfed it down, and then licking his fingers. He was ravenous, and ate four more slices of bread, some with meat, most with butter, and went off to practice for the day.

 

He had to practice the two weaves he knew, and, perhaps, to experiment. He walked off, into a courtyard, where there were few people, and, this early, none. He drew on saidin, the Void required no effort, now, and wove, carefully, Fire and Air just so, and a small globe of light appeared in front of him. He smiled, and nudged it round, and walked foward, making it follow him. It was still difficult to control, but it was not impossible. It didn't flicker, and flare, but glowed constantly, the occasional flash of extra light coming out, and the occasion dimming, but, to someone who was not holding saidin, it was a near-perfect ball of light.

 

He left it. There were more important things to do. He drew more deeply on saidin, and began burning the air in front of him. He formed pure Fire into a ball of fire, and threw it at a nearby wall. He made two balls of fire, and made them spin in a sphere, and then changed their colour. He had figured that out himself, a few days ago, the changing colour trick. He changed them from green, to blue, to purple, to white. He couldn't manage brown, or black, but he figured he'd get the hang of it eventually.

 

He sat down, and began to juggle, attempting to make two circles. It was hard, juggling with the power, like juggling twice as many circles, and the fireballs dissipated after a few moments. He sighed, and stood up. He had classes again, at midday. He had another three hours, one to practice, and one to rest, and eat, in. Hopefully he'd learn new weaves, instead of just repetition of the old ones, for once..[/quote']

 

 

 

 

Lying on his stomach' date=' Michael rested his chin on his folded arms as he waited. Before him sat two bowls, the first of which was filled with water while the other had dirt with rocks ontop of it. His student had spent his month of channeling practicing with air and fire, half the time without supervision no doubt. Then again, Michael believed in a different form of learning. While some teachers were rather strict about observing their students, Michael believed in his students taking full responsibility for their own actions, including their channeling. If they decided to channel too much and burn themselves out, then that was their own stupidity. Those that were able to discipline themselves and resist channeling overmuch were the ones that made it further.

 

It was somewhere along those thoughts that Michael fell asleep, for how long Michael wasn't sure but it was Marak that shook him awake. The man was seated opposite him, ready to begin, but Michael wasn't.

 

"About time you arrived, did you only just finish your third course. No no, don't look at me with that quizzical look, I saw you at breakfast today. You'll eat us out of the fortress yet. Before we begin, go fetch me some toast. Yes, I'm serious, up you get, go! And I want cheese with it. Be sure to keep it warm."

 

Their lesson as a result began a little later than usual, but Michael wasn't overly worried, neither was Marak who had a piece of toast as well in hand. Another thing Michael didn't believe in, authority didn't needed to be exerted constantly like some believed in. Some were rather formal in their student/master relationships, but Michael was rather loose with it, then again he was loose about quite a number of things.

 

"Alright, take hold of saidin, be sure to watch." Seizing the male source himself, Michael took one of the stones from the bowl and held it up for Marak to see. "Look at all the brown threads in this rock, you'll see that there are a few that are larger than the rest. Now watch as I take hold of this one here, expand it so and-"

 

There was an audible crack as the rock split in two. Dropping the pieces back in the earth bowl, Michael grinned at Marak. "Doesn't look like much, but as you develop your strength you can do it to larger things than just that rock. Boulders, walls, cliff faces, depending on your power its quite a handy weave to know. We'll come back to earth in a moment though, over to the water."

 

Taking a handkerchief from one of his pockets, Michael dipped it in the bowl of water, then held it above the bowl until it stopped dripping. "Alright, now see the blue threads running through the handkerchief? Taking them like so, you just have to draw them out like this, pulling them down through the handkerchief." The pitter patter of drops from the handkerchief resumed began anew until the handkerchief was drained.

 

"Now for my third and final trick." Dipping the handkerchief once more, Michael then rolled it about in the dirt of the earth bowl until it was thoroughly dirty. Holding it up for Marak to view, Michael wove anew.

 

"Ok, as you can see the blue threads run through the earth. First part is to strengthen the earth threads, so they absorb the water. Notice how the dirt is caking? The handkerchief is drying out now all you have to do is shake the handkerchief a few times, and there you have it, a quick way to clean the mud off your clothes."

 

Tossing the handkerchief to Marak, Michael grinned. "Keep it to practice with, isn't mine anyway. These will be your weaves to learn until you're competent with them, though be sure to exercise fire and air still. Not too much though or you'll burn up. At anyrate" Michael stretched before resting on his elbows "get to it."

 

 

Michael Daemeau

Instructor of sorts[/quote']

 

 

Marak walked into the room' date=' and sat down. Ah, Micheal was asleep! It seemed strange, that. He simply waited, for only a few minutes, and then shook him, trying to awaken him.

 

The man spoke, and Marak laughed. Throughout the Fortress, there were thousands of tiny currents, alliance, politics, hatreds, and, it seemed, he was unaware of all of them. The Dreadlords hated each other, the Adepts had rivalries, and they were all wary of him, trying to figure out where he stood. He knew a little of daes'damar, but, by the Shadow, this was a hundred times more complicated!

 

He laughed, and ran off, speeding down to the kitchens. Although, at first, he had tried to emulate the cold, unfeeling manner most of the Dreadlords displayed, it seemed pointless, after time. His parents were dead. It was easy to come to terms with that, especially knowing he would have his revenge. In the meantime, he would live his life as he wished, under the Great Lord, of course.

 

He grabbed six slices of bread, and set up the metal toasters. They were simply a double-Y shaped piece of metal, that, if you had drawn a line from each of the four points, would've formed a cross. You then rotated the metal, and toasted the bread on each side. In Marak's mind, it was the most wonderful invention for cooking, in the history of mankind. You could sit in front of a fire, and cook!

 

He turned them over, and had six pieces of toast. He grabbed three slices of cheese, and sat them on top of the toast. He walked off, trying not to spill the toast.

 

He then realised, if he walked, it'd get cold. He began to jog. Rounding a corner, he remembered what had happened the last time he'd rounded a corner quickly, and abruptly stopped. Four of the pieces of toast fell off the plate, and..stopped. They floated in midair. Marak didn't remember doing it, but, as he was holding saidin, and could see the flows, he surmised it must've been him. He tried to move them, but they seemed immobile.

 

He walked up to one, and released that flow, catching the toast on the plate. Another piece of toast, and another, all the toast was back on the plate. Marak smiled. It appeared the One Power was useful for many things.

 

He walked, this time, and, then sighed. He'd have to eat his toast cold. As he was about to walk into the room, again, he had an idea. If he could weave fireballs, he could weave fire. If he could weave fire.. He could weave it finer.

 

He drew on saidin, deeply, nearly as deep as his capacity, and wove, carefully, tiny little threads, woven like fireballs, all through the toast. He finished them all at once, and the toast promptly burst into flames. He cursed, and snatched the flame out, and spread it around him.

 

..Strange. He had just learnt another thing. Two very basic things, that derived from toast. He laughed, and walked into the room.

 

The cheese was melted, and was soaking into all of the pieces of toast, and the butter was spread out likewise. He smiled, and took up a piece, and put the plateful of toast on the table in front of him.

 

It was a little less formal, indeed, much less formal, than his other lessons, and he assumed Michael just wanted to get to know his students, before letting down the cold facade of a Dreadlord.

 

 

He watched, fascinated, as the flows of Earth spread through the rock. He had always felt he could do things with Earth, but he hadn't wanted to mess around with an unknown power. He looked, as the rock cracked, and quickly thought about the weave. It surprised him, as the weave almost snapped together, as if it had a will of its own, cracking another rock.

 

The handkerchief trick, though. That was an impressive one. You could dry yourself in an instant, and look like a Dreadlord, or an Aes Sedai, or an Ash'man, or whatever the new order of channeling men was called.

 

He tried to think of the weave, and couldn't. The Earth weave was easy, and yet.. The Water weave was almost indecipherable. It was strange, that.

 

As he mused, another weave appeared, in front of him. It was made of Water and Earth, and appeared to be an intricate mix of the two weaves he had seen before. He tried to follow it, and then managed to figure the Earth part out, although the Water part still eluded him. No-, no, he had it now. It made sense.

 

He nodded, and then decided to ask a question. "Excuse me, but.. What exactly is Spirit for? I know it can shield a channeler from the True Source, but.. is that all it does?".

 

He sat back, and patiently awaited an answer. No doubt it would be a long one.[/quote']

 

 

Michael was standing over Marak with a piece of toast and cheese in hand when the young lad's eyes opened again. Waving at Marak as if he was off in the distance' date=' Michael grinned down at Marak. "You can do that for starters. While spirit might not be physically tangible, its not only good for shielding and cutting weaves, but doing things like putting people to sleep. Not that you'll need to learn that weave, you could probably talk someone into a coma with your questioning as it is. You'll learn spirit last though, so don't play around with spirit threads. If I find out that you have, and I will sooner or later if you do, I'll break one of your kneecaps."

 

All of this said in his usual jovial manner, Michael offered his hand to help Marak up which the man took. "Thats it for today, don't trip on the way out after you're done practicing. Remember to keep at it, and also remember not to try earthern weaves on the floor or walls of the fortress. That would be an exceptionally bad idea, and being the bright lad you are I'd be very disappointed in you if you did something so silly." At that, Michael left his student to his practice while Michael found something more intriguing to do, like chat with one of the kitchen ladies about the amazing toast they were turning out these days...

 

 

"Oh come on, you know you want it."

 

"You are a vile, odious and disgusting man, keep that away from me."

 

"Don't knock it till you've tried it."

 

"There's nothing to try, back away and I mean it. Any closer and I'll scream."

 

"Alright, alright, there's no need to be like that." Stepping away, Michael shook his head. "You know, I'm really disappointed in you, I thought you were better than this."

 

"I didn't think any better of you at all. Fifty years and you still haven't learnt, no means no."

 

"Except when it means yes."

 

"Thats it, one more wor-"

 

"One."

 

Stamping her foot, Julie Mesdarces levelled a finger at Michael. "Mark my words, countryman or no I'll have you singing like soprano if you keep this up."

 

Michael grinned at her "don't go making promises now."

 

 

Julie's jaws worked but the best she could manage was a furious huff before, turning and stalking off. Laughing, Michael sat at the table only to find Marak there with several pieces of toast and watching in silence. Holding up his own piece of toast which was smeared liberally in mustard, Michael shrugged. "You'd think I'd said she should renounce her vows, whats wrong with toast with mustard? And no, don't answer, its a rhetoric question and I'm not sure I could take that much rejection today. Bring that with you, I want to get you started with spirit threads."

 

That seemed to get Marak's attention and it wasn't all that long before they were in the classroom. Finishing off the last of his toast and mustard, Michael waved about a hand in the air as he spoke. "Take saidin... Right, now I want you to make one of those globes of light you've been working on. First thing you learn today is how to cut another person's weave, watch."

 

The raging torrent of saidin in his grasp, Michael took his time constructing his blade of spirit. Not that it was difficult, but it didn't hurt to take time so Marak could see how it worked. The weave was like a cutlass, heavy on the back end, keen and sharp on the front. There were more elegant ways to do it, but this would help Marak develop the basics of cutting weaves and build his strength in spirit. Sending it forward, as the edge met the globe of light, the threads that were cut unravelled in tatters as the light dissipated without the threads holding it together.

 

"You don't need quite as much force as that for the weave you had up, or most for that matter. Slicing a piece of a weave is usually enough to make it leak and dissipate, but then again sometimes you aren't left with enough time for that, when someone flings a fireball at you for example. Slicing a fireball would allow the heat to leak and dissipate for example, make a large enough cut and the weave will fold on itself and the flames will cease to burn in a single moment. Different threads are affected in different ways. At anyrate, I'm going to start setting up different weaves for you to test this on, lets get started..."

 

 

Michael Daemeau

Instructor

[/quote']

 

 

Marak awoke with a start. For a moment he thought he was back in his bed' date=' until he saw Michael standing in front of him. He then realised he was sitting, and he'd just been put to sleep.

 

Now, that was a weapon. Fireballs and ice were useful, but... Putting someone to sleep could be deadly. The sheer immensity that he could do if he learned that.. He smiled, briefly, and smoothed his coat down, wiping a multitude of crumbs off it. Spirit was the most interesting, it had piqued his interest, and.. Well, it was the most mystical of the Five Powers. What he could do with Fire, or Water, or Air, or even Earth, he could do the same without the One Power. Spirit, however...

 

Micheal helped him up, and he walked off. It was time to practice.

 

Again, he tried Earth, Fire, Air and Water, all in quick succession, trying to weave faster, harder, and better. He tried, and kept trying, for almost half an hour. Using the One Power in such a way was hard work. He tried to grab the Power again, and it slipped out of his grip. He knew when he should stop. He walked down to the kitchens..

 

He got some toast, which seemed to be all he ate, these days, and sat down, and listened, while he ate. He heard the shrill voice of a woman, screaming at.. was it Micheal? He could make out what she was saying, and it sounded...bad. Micheal appeared to be trying to make her do something that looked simply horrific, indeed, barbaric. Marak wondered how Michael could do such a thing, and then Michael walked over, sighed, and sat down.

 

It was true. He had mustard on his toast. Marak stifled a gasp, and then, as quickly as he had sat down, Micheal got him off to the classroom, again. There, he sat, ready to learn about Spirit. He seized the Power, and wove a ball of light. He rested it in the air, and exhaled sharply as his flows snapped back into him, leaving a sting that was like a light slap, on every part of his body.

 

Michael set up some weave, and Marak drew upon Spirit, slowly forming a blade. It was keen, and slightly sharp, and, unsteadily, he moved it quickly, and sliced through a weave, cutting it into small shreds. He smiled, and cut again. And again. It was like wielding a sword, but cutting into scarecrows, rather than fighting real enemies.

 

He drew deeper on Spirit, and sliced another weave. Suddenly, as quickly as he had grasped it, saidin was gone. His hold was still a little shaky, and so, he assumed the Void, burning all his emotions within the Flame, and reached out. He could continue cutting weaves once he regained his grasp..[/quote']

 

 

Another two weeks had passed. Marak had learnt a bit' date=' but not nearly so much as he would've liked. Cutting weaves, and a few basic weaves of each Power, was hardly enough to keep him occupied.

 

And so, he began filching the occasional item. He had the most amusing prank worked out, and, it would knock the other pitiful Acolytes being taught down a few notche .He drew on saidin, and stepped over to a nearby wall. He channeled a thread of Earth into the mortar, and dissolved some of it. He then took the stone out of the wall. He put in a candle, a small jar, and some water, and also a miniscule flame he had made, so it kept itself alive. Heh. The prank itself was brilliant.

 

He dissolved the back half of the stone, and fitted it back in.. reforming, not truly, but making it look as if the wall was untouched. He smiled. The Fortress had a large library, and, some of the knowledge from the Age of Legends was there; hardly things he comprehended, but basic things, like how exactly fire worked, and what it would do, to say, a chamberpot.

 

He grinned, and walked off. He hadn't learnt much lately, but, in a way, he felt, this was a test. He whistled jauntily, and managed to stifle his grin. It was going to be excellent. He chuckled, and then decided to go to the kitches. Some butter, and maybe some mustard were good candidates for his trick..[/quote']

 

 

“That’s really quite stunning you know.â€

 

“What do you want?â€

 

“To be a foot taller' date=' to be able to fly and to have an even la-“

 

“Idiot.â€

 

“Well, forgoing all that, I want you to help me with a student of mine. He’s got cutting weaves downpat, and I need someone for him to drill against, someone with breasts.â€

 

“Get Thom, he has breasts.â€

 

“And most magnificent they are, would you believe how well they cup in the hand?â€

 

“Why do you do this to me?â€

 

“Because I can. Will you help?â€

 

“Only if you return the favour with one of my students.â€

 

“Done. I always knew you were exceptional.â€

 

“Shut up.â€

 

That wasn’t about to happen as the pair made their way through the fortress, their banter running back and forth. In the room that Michael often used as a classroom, they found Marak sitting on the floor, with a piece of toast as usual. Michael disapproved slightly, the man refused to use mustard. While he could have forced him, it was always better for people to choose to do it themselves.

 

“Well, you’ve learnt quite a bit, but there’s always an interesting test for a channeler, how to defend themselves against unseen flows. We’ll pick up a few more weaves along the way, but basically you get to defend yourself against our lovely Julie here, who will spank you with air whenever you let a weave through. Or something else if you actually like that sort of thing. At anyrate, we’ll see how you manage cutting weaves thrown at you and go from there.â€

 

 

Michael Daemeau

Instructor

[/quote']

 

 

Well, there's the thread. I basically posted all that here, so I can post the last finishing post. :D

On the other hand, it'll be the very first of my reqs that I've completed..

[Marak]

“Well, you’ve learnt quite a bit, but there’s always an interesting test for a channeler, how to defend themselves against unseen flows. We’ll pick up a few more weaves along the way, but basically you get to defend yourself against our lovely Julie here, who will spank you with air whenever you let a weave through. Or something else if you actually like that sort of thing. At anyrate, we’ll see how you manage cutting weaves thrown at you and go from there.â€

 

Marak nodded at the last word Michael said, and fell over. Something had hit him on the side of the head, and knocked him over quite soundly.

 

He waved flows of Spirit around madly, trying to defend himself, feeling his weaves cut into others occasionally, until another flow of Air struck him in the ribs.

 

He gasped, and winced. For all the world knew, there was just a strange man wincing, and falling over, while moving his hands upwards to avert a blow. No doubt, from Michael's point of view, it was quite funny.

 

He flung his arms up, and slammed flows of Spirit down around him, constantly, in a steady, measured fashion. For a moment, or two, it worked, blocking every flow that came for him. And then the flows attacking him became somewhat more erratic, and struck THROUGH the constantly moving flows of Spirit.

 

Marak exclaimed, as a stinging blow caught him, embarrassingly enough, on the upper leg. From where he was holding it.. No doubt it looked quite amusing. His cheeks blushed red, as, in desperation, he had a slightly better idea.

 

He tenatively extended his weaves towards Julie, and then duplicated the cutting movement, except around her. As soon as she began to spin a weave, it snapped right back into her. He smiled, and then, in some dismay, felt his strange 'shield' of Spirit, as it was, cut by flows that he couldn't see.

 

It was not a true Shield, as he had been taught about, but a different one, that prevented people from moving flows more than, say, a metre away from their own bodies. And now, he felt the same thing settle around him. He slashed viciously with the Power, cutting through the block, and smiling as Julie let out a small sigh.

 

He slashed randomly in the air with Spirit, trying to cut any incoming flows. Suddenly, he felt his grasp on saidin falter. He tried to slash another blow, and felt it fade away entirely, and he collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. He had been drawing moore saidin than he could normally handle, for a small period of time. He didn't notice anything that happened as he slipped into oblivion..