The young jaluk student waits for some time before there is even a hint of activity behind the Jabbuk M’elzar d’Illusion’s office door. A guarding shadow spider passes though the hall, once, and he is very careful to not disturb it’s rounds.
As the hours pass, the student becomes more concerned, for he dare not leave this assignment, his jabbress would surely know, and she has earned the reputation of having many young students whom are never seen again.
For a moment, it seems as if time stands still. The waves cast by the magical dim green lights of the Master’s hall pause, then skip a beat shifting from where they should have fallen to a new angle, without crossing the space between.
Shaking his head to clear the loss of concentration and tiredness that a long wait so often brings, the student reassures himself that it was merely his eyes, still trying to adjust to the regular light found within the Sorciere. Reading with light is something eh may never grow accustomed to, but all of the students, fearn, sargtlin and yath’abban alike are forced to learn the skill within these walls.
As he settles back into his task of waiting, a voice in the dark is heard
“Dos may enter now”
The whispered voice is flat, without inflection, yet the student is still startled. Rumors of his jabbress Master, the Shade briefly dance through his head. He cannot hide his revulsion to what he has heard. ‘This Master of Illusions is but an illusion himself’ he thinks to comfort himself. No longer a true drow, yet not undead a half-being made of blackness, it cannot be true.
The office door slides away, revealing and small office filled with unidentifiable things, twisted and living, plant-like but not of this world. Bookshelves filled with tomes and artifacts, and heavy dust, long untouched by any hand.
“Place what dos have to give upon the desk”
The student looks about quickly, but still there is no one there. Regaining his composure, the student answers the voice, “Xas Jabbuk” as he places the box on the black wood top.
“From whom is this from?”
“It is from my jabbress, M’elzaress Eilesse Dev’Lin”
The student, feeling unsure of what to do next bows towards the desk and begins to back out of the small room.
The door slides shut smoothing and without noise, just before the young jaluk is able to back across the thresh hold.
Shadows twitch… and he is never seen again…