Bear Witness

Salle - Night's Edge Monastery


 * The salle is less a room and more a roofed area attached to the main body of the manor house, the place of training for the weaponmaster and his students. Thick shardwood posts and rafters hold up a baked tile roof, leaving the sides of the space surrounded only by a waist-high wall of the same white sun clay bricks that make up the rest of the manor house. Rolled canvas is tied up on pleasant days, but can be allowed to drop to keep in warmth, in conjunction with the small stove in an out of the way corner, or keep out inclement weather. Within the bounds of the salle, the dirt floor has been carefully raked, a twenty-foot-across circle of fine white powder renewed daily in the open space at the area's center. To one side, several benches are

placed to offer a class the ability to see the lesson being taught - or simply shoved against the wall to make more room for a class to work.
 * There is a small, enclosed armory, its heavy door of biinwood usually barred and locked against intrusion, the small store of arms available to the residents of the manor kept within. Wooden practice weapons are stored in racks outside, however, available for anyone caring for a casual spar or a quick lesson.
 * There are two biinwood doors: one leads off to the east to return to the

courtyard, while the other heads north going through the armory to the dining hall.

Thayndor Zahir stands under the salle's roof, the canvas walls pulled up, watching the clouds and rain move across the landscape under the six full moons.

Appearing behind Thayndor in the salle is Duhnen, the Driscol considering the Zahir. His eyes smolder in the dim light, and the man folds his hands behind his back, in no rush to announce himself.

A few moments pass before Thayndor looks over his shoulder to see who has joined him. He seems only mildly surprised. "Sir Duhnen," he says, eyebrows raising. He turns to face the man, bowing lightly. "Good evening." "Evening. How is Night's Edge treating you?" Duhnen asks Thayndor with a dip of his head in return. "I imagine you're in good company, here, or so I'd say from the last I heard of who else resides on the grounds."

"Well enough so far," Thayndor replies. "Sahna paid a visit not too long ago. The Crown has entrusted Celeste and Kael with my, ah, 're-education.'" His wry smile is shadowy and blue-tinged in the light of the many moon. "Kael attempted to begin it, not too many nights ago."

"I see," Duhnen nods slightly, the statement as much of a prompt for more as it is a note of understanding. As such, he waits, watching the other noble.

Thayndor Zahir exhales. "The lesson did not go entirely as planned. His hope was to goad me until my only option was to use my power, then force me out of form again if I didn't have control enough to do it myself. But I found a way to end the lesson without using my Shadow powers to counter his own. I wound up having to walk him back to the dormitories." He sighs again. "Kael fears I am too strong for him to help. He seems to think that Faeyd would be a more apt teacher; were the Archmage to tolerate me, I would certainly agree, but with his tower gone I doubt we'll see him for some time."

Duhnen snorts at that, shaking his head slightly. "If you can't help yourself, then I don't hold much hope for another doing so," he answers. "You weren't goaded. That's well enough. I hope you didn't injure him too badly."

"Me too," Thayndor replies. "He had injured ribs before the lesson began." The Zahir gestures with both hands, palms up. "So I am to remain here until I can prove to the Crown that I have complete control over my powers again. What am I to do?"

"Did they specify as to how you're supposed to prove just that? Or will it be a situation where they simply hold you until they're satisfied?" Duhnen asks with an arched brow. "Either way, being released seems as if it'll be the simpler thing to do."

"The latter," Thayndor says. "I believe it is to involve the use of my powers, somehow, but I've settled on the belief that this darkness is like a sharp sword -- left in scabbard and drawn only to take blood in earnest."

"You're rather lucky you weren't consumed entirely," Duhnen states, eyeing Thayndor. "I don't quite know how you clawed yourself back out of the jaws of the Shadow before they snapped shut on you, but I hope that's something you'll not repeat."

"I know," Thayndor says, bowing his head. "It was a long struggle, and for a while I thought I would lose, would remain a beast forever. But there was something not even the Shadow could convince me not to want. I clung to that, and eventually, my visit to Eventide weakened the Shadow enough that I could seize control." "Don't reach that deeply until you're confident you won't lose yourself. It'll gladly give you all the power you can grasp, and you know this now," Duhnen replies, unfolding his hands from behind his back to cross his arms over his chest.

"Show you the power, anyhow," Thayndor replies. He walks to the edge of the room, looks up at the moons. "I miss my family. I've been three months in the wilderness and another in prison." There's a silence. "Can you hear the singing in your ear? All the moons are out." He nods towards the sky. "It's a dangerous night for the Shadow. I hear the call and I ignore it. I'm that strong, now, at least."

"I feel it keenly," Duhnen shrugs a bit at that. "It'd be ever so simple to let it fill and surround you, wouldn't it?" He moves forward to the edge of the room to peer skyward at the lined moons. "Such an unspeakable feeling to hold that in your grasp."

"But it's not you holding it," Thayndor replies. "Is it. If anything, it's rather the other way around." He looks sidelong at Duhnen. "You've been this way far longer than I. Aware, I mean. How do you call yourself back?"

"If it's holding you, then you're already losing yourself," Duhnen shakes his head, clicking his tongue. "The idea is to never lose yourself so much that you dont have to call yourself back. You need to be aware of who you are at all times."

"As Kael said," Thayndor muses. "Keep a mind to what it is you're doing and why it is you're doing it, and don't forget."

"The shadow's greatest victory is to take away what makes you a man," Duhnen replies absently as the considers the sky. "As you've experienced yourself. It's corruption makes you less than human. Something else entirely, and lesser."

"You never had so public a struggle with your talents," Thayndor observes to Duhnen. "But then again, you had teachers."

"I've had times when I was less than at my best. It's current tactic seems to be to deprive me of it, to make me believe I need it," he replies, subconciously clenching a fist. It sounds as if he's not quite so sure of that. "I'm not so easily denied, however."

"I'm in something of a stableman's choice myself," Thayndor replies. "Over these past few days, I've been training myself, preparing for the moment I must call this power back again. I feel ready -- that I could call it and push it back again, for the right purpose -- but just doing it to prove that I can seems a trap laid by the dark power. I won't do it -- won't cause myself to be in a situation where I have to use it. But until I'm in that situation, my control will be left unproven, and I'm stuck here." He sighs. "I should have taken the invitation Sahna extended to me, when I first knew what had happened. Should have accepted help."

Duhnen nods slightly, looking away from the moons to him. "The easiest way to avoid falling is to refuse to use it entirely. Course, I'm not that strong, myself."

"I'd use it -- in the event I had a firm grasp of what I was using and why," Thayndor replies, turning to face Duhnen in turn. "My communion with the weather was easier to learn. This transformation -- it's such a complete thing, that its power was unexpected to me. But it is unexpected, overwhelming, no longer. And so I will hold it in stillness until it is needed." He regards Duhnen for a moment; seems to be looking at the other man's tattoo. "Is there still a Luminary?"

"In a very limited sense, I suppose," Duhnen shrugs a bit. "Faeyd vanished again, as you may or may not have heard." He scratches at his chin, sighing. "I know somewhat what those transformations can do to you. They can really get you all out of sorts."

"I had three months to get used to it," Thayndor replies drily. "Duhnen, if I was fallen, could you readily tell?"

That draws a faint smile to Duhnen's face. "Likely. Have you ever met a fallen mage? It sounds as if you were fallen for some time, anyhow, and you managed to redeem yourself through the grace of something."

Thayndor Zahir shakes his head. "Not fallen," he replies, definitive. "Close, maybe." The Zahir exhales. "If releasing me would be a danger to Fastheld, could you tell?" He asks. "You're a Knight. Use that chivalric judgment." He gestures. "Help me get this over with."

"If you're looking for me to vouch for your release, I'm unable to do so," Duhnen shakes his head a bit at that. "You're a risk now, obviously, whether I believe you'll lose yourself or not. You have to help yourself get over this. It all comes down to your will being strong enough."

"My will has so far been tested only once, and my tester was injured for his trouble," Thayndor replies. "I welcome the challenge. But will it come? So far my time here has mostly been spent in meditation, suffering through one of Celeste's lectures, or in idle chitchat.'

"What did you do to him, exactly?" Duhnen lifts an eyebrow to Thayndor, sounding curious. "Kael is rather sturdy, I must say. Especially so when he takes that giant wolf form."

"He didn't take wolf form," Thayndor replies. "He was using some power, throwing a wooden dagger at me with magic. He had bandaged ribs, some injury he sustained before the lesson. I was holding a wooden practice sword; he set it on fire with magic." Thayndor winces. "I threw the flaming sword at him to throw him off-balance, picked up the practice dagger, rushed him, and poked him with the wooden toy." He pokes his ribs. "Where his bandages were."

"How did he get hurt?" Duhnen blanches a bit. "He shouldn't be throwing anything at anyone, it sounds like. I'll have to go find him, I suppose. Still, that doesn't sound like much your fault."

"Well, he /was/ trying to leave me no other option but to transform into a beast myself," Thayndor agrees, somewhat defensively. "Kael should be here. He tried to continue the lesson, but whatever he was playing at, he earned himself," the Zahir seems to blanch slightly, "Mageblock. I left him to sleep it off."

"It's obviously not anger that's your weakness," Duhnen shrugs a bit. "I knew someone who would lose herself when she became angry. She's dead now."

Thayndor Zahir shakes his head. "No, I've known my weakness for months now," Thayndor replies. "Pride. And I've remained focused on it, cautious of it."

"Well, use that to your advantage. Don't let yourself lose to this. That'd be the ultimate strike against your pride," Duhnen explains to Thayndor. "Will is more or less how stubborn you're able to be."

Thayndor Zahir smiles a devious smile. "Oh," Thayndor replies. "I can be quite stubborn. But I doubt Kael will be willing to attempt another test of that. I may have to recruit another teacher."

"I don't quite agree with trying to force the beast out of you, even if I can see the point he was trying to make," Duhnen shrugs a bit at that. "I'd much rather you turn to it yourself, and bring yourself back alone, than with another's goading."

"But that smacks of a deception," Thayndor replies. "My confidence could be my doing. Or it could have some ... fey encouragement," he says. "To do it just to prove I can, isn't that a trap?"

"To do it and fail show's you're a threat," Duhnen shrugs a bit at that. "You wish to use the power, and you should show you're able. Even swearing it off will likely not be accepted by those who are watching you." Bursting from the man's armored back appear a pair of dark, feathery wings. They stretch and snap outwards from him, expanding fully behind him in more or less a show, the wingspan at least his height.

Thayndor Zahir's eyebrows raise. "That's an improvement over what nearly killed you in Northreach," Thayndor says. He looks from the wings to the moons. "I can do it," Thayndor replies. "If I can do it now, I can do it anytime." He looks sidelong at Duhnen. "And if anyone would be able to stop me were I a threat, I expect it would be you."

"I'm stubborn as well," Duhnen nods slightly at that, quirking a faint smile. "As I said, I wouldn't be denied. And I won't be, next time, when a priest gets plucked up by gargoyles and carried off." He shrugs a bit at Thayndor's words, then, glancing to the moon as those oily feathers ripple behind him. "Extra power is in the air. That's true. It's easier to draw upon it now than ever. But also easier to draw too much."

"That's what I meant," Thayndor says, turning to put the moons on one side of him and Duhnen on the other. "If I can pull and push away tonight, then my confidence will be proven well-placed. If I can't ..."

"Then what would you wish me to do? Kill you? I'd rather see you dead than lessened," Duhnen answers with a distasteful grimace. "And likely you'd rather be as such as well."

"I would," Thayndor replies, breath quickening at the thought. "Better to end my days than see me Lessened or in the Shadow's grasp." He steps in from the moonlight, hands flexing subconsciously. "Are you ready?"

Those wings melt away at that and Duhnen glances about the Salle, before he impassively shrugs to Thayndor. "Are you? I ask that you consider this deeply before taking this action."

"If you are right that doing this for the sake of proving I can is a right action," Thayndor replies. "I have thought about it for over a week now out of captivity, and for a month in prison: I know I can hold this power in stillness. I know I can draw upon it at will, and have proven that I shan't be harried into it. And I want what rests for me in the world of Fastheld far more than anything the Shadow could promise me, whispering into my ear. I have no reason to let the Shadow keep me longer than I wish to remain in that form." He's silent for a long moment. "I feel of sound mind." He sends Duhnen a questioning glance. "I -am- of sound mind, am I not?"

"You seem rather rational at the moment," Duhnen allows with a small nod. "You speak clearly and not at all like a beast, or as someone driven by something out of their control. I've seen madmen before, as well. You're not one of those."

"Then bear witness," Thayndor says. "I am Thayndor Zahir, once and future Lord of Darkwater, one of Fastheld's Touched, and though I walk in the Shadow, it holds no sway over my actions." He gives Duhnen a sharp nod, focused, intense, not unlike someone about to go to war. "You will bear witness? Should the Shadow betray me, you will see me safe? Should I fall to it, you will end my life?"

"I'll defend Fastheld from threats, Shadow or otherwise. If I deem you a threat, I'll take action, for your sake, as well as everyone else's," Duhnen replies at that with a nod. "This is your own free choice, after all. I can't control that."

Thayndor Zahir bows his head, his shadow in the moonlight growing before his form itself does. "Then behold," he says, and as he does so, his voice grows deeper, far deeper, reverberating with a fey echo. "This --" his shoulders widen, his dark clothing shifts and melds into dark fur, nose to snout, mouth to jaws, hands to claws -- "is my curse --" his legs elongate, his knees snap from forward to backward, form wraithed in shadow, the grotesque process veiled, like burlesque -- "this is my burden." He stops talking, and is looking down at his claws, turning his hands over in front of his elongated, predatory, vulpine snout.

"I," snarls the beast in that raspy, deep, shadowed voice, still looking at his hands. At length he raises that baleful, glowing green stare to Duhnen, hands falling to his sides. He takes a step towards the Battlemage. "I am ..."

The beast raises one hand, a human gesture, jabbing a clawed thumb to his chest. "I am Thayndor," he growls, aggressively, "Count of House Zahir!"

Duhnen nods at that, withdrawing to keep the same distance between them. "What are you, Thayndor Zahir?" He tilts his head upwards due to the wolfman's superior height. "Are you a slave of Shadow? Are you a creature of your own will? Tell me."

The beast takes several deep, panting breaths before answering. "Once and future Lord of Darkwater," he snarls. "One of Fastheld's Touched." At the word, his head snaps around, to face the moons. He raises his head, defiant, pointing a claw at the violet Serpent's Eye, itself casting him in a vermillion light. "And though I walk in the Shadow," says the beast, a lightning flash emphasizing his words, "it holds --" the claw slashes down, emphasizing a violent negative -- "-no- sway over my actions!" a thunderclap follows the proclamation, and the beast takes a heavy breath, baring his fangs at Duhnen. Leaning forward to place his eyes level with the battlemage's across the salle, he adds, more calm but demanding, "/will you bear witness?/"

"Control yourself, Thayndor Zahir. Your control seems to be teetering on the edge of a knife," Duhnen answers with a glower at the creature. "Those teeth and claws are temporary, false things. Your fur; not real. While you wear this mantle of the beast, remember that it's only a cloak. Something for you to discard at will, when it no longer suits you. Remember that should that mantle begin to bear down too hard on your shoulders, it's time to discard it."

"What you hear is not the Shadow," replies the beast, turning to face the moons. He lets out a slow growl. "The Shadow is the voice in my ear, urging me to turn and," he raises his claws over his head, grasping them towards one another, "sink my claws into your flesh," he tears his hands out until they're spread wide to his sides, as if ready to embrace Serpent's Eye, "rip you in half." The hands fall. He half-turns, and the beast is silhouetted in moonlight. "I had three months to learn the difference; there is the Shadow, and then there is the aggressive beast that lurks in the hearts of all men. The two are not the same." The beast rolls its shoulders, cracks its neck with a staccato series of menacing snaps. "Granted, the latter lends itself to the former."

"Release it, then," Duhnen commands the Werewolf. "Drop your form. Return to what you really are." He looks past Thayndor for a moment to the world outside, before fixing his attention back on him, waiting patiently.

There's a pause, then the beast nods. "The singing is strong, tonight," he admits, turning to face Duhnen with one fang bared, a lazy snarl. "Hunt, run through the woods; but no. Not now. Not like I did before -- not ever like that again!" He growls. The beast takes a breath. "Watch, Duhnen, watch closely. I want to finish now what I began months ago." The jaws close, browridges knotting in concentration. At length, he releases a prolonged growl -- the growl ends in a word, murmured to low for Duhnen to hear. Tendrils of Shadow wrap about the beast's form, an obscene cloak over a blasphemous transformation, then --

Thayndor is there, on his knees, hands on his thighs, looking down, catching his breath. He looks up at Duhnen, jaw grimly set. "It is done."

Duhnen looks over the man then with narrowed eyes, beginning to move forward to stalk about to Thayndor's back, considering. Seeing nothing, he begins to clap, nodding his head as he returns to his front. "It was a tense moment, there. You did well. How do you feel?"

"Drained," Thayndor replies. "Relieved." He pulls himself to his feet. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you didn't run," Duhnen states with a nod. "And now, what do you plan to do? Get something to eat and sleep, I hope. You seem as if you could use it."

"I may skip the eating part," Thayndor replies with a wan smile. He brushes dirt from his knees. "That was certainly easier than last time. And I imagine the next time, should there be one, will be easier than this."

Duhnen smiles at that. "I'd certainly hope. It shouldn't be a challenge to return to this form. The challenge should always be turning away from it. Be glad once you find yourself in that predicament."

"So what now?" Thayndor asks. "You haven't killed me. I suppose I should take that as a good sign."

"So now, if you need me to speak for you to someone, when the time comes, I'll explain what occured here," Duhnen replies at that with a small shrug. "Whether they take my words seriously will remain to be seen."

"You're a knight of the Crown," Thayndor replies. "Shouldn't they take your words with weight?" Duhnen smiles somewhat at that. "I'm also a registered Mage, vouching for another Mage. There may be suspicions there, despite my qualifications. They fear me, you see. Perhaps for good reason."

"They'd trust Kael's word, I think," Thayndor says. "But if I can do this ..." he gestures towards the moons and the storm, "now, then I expect I can do it again."

"Again, I hope so. I do mean to speak to Kael, again, and I can tell him of what I witnessed," Duhnen dips his head. "As well as ask him about how he got hurt."

"It didnt' occur to me until afterward -- I didn't realize how bad the wound was," Thayndor says with a nod. "I intend to find out about that as well." The Zahir looks out at the moons. "Thank you again, Duhnen. For helping me." He nods outside, another lightning bolt briefly illuminating his features. "For helping me weather the storm."