Chapter 1: The Candidate's First Steps to Forsakenhood
Chapter Text
Jahar Narishma is a Lightfriend Asha'man, personally trusted by the Dragon Reborn, Rand Al'Thor. In four weeks, he's going to have to try and convince a panel of experts that he's a genuine candidate to be a Forsaken. This is… Faking It.
Jahar Narishma is walking along the paths to Shayol Ghul where he will meet his two mentors that will help him convince a panel of three that he has dedicated himself to being a future Forsaken. From his wide pretty brown eyes darting about, he's nervous. Occasionally he runs his fingers over the sword pinned to his black coat collar.
Jahar: I would never even considered being a Darkfriend in my life, and never will. I was brought up in Shol Arbela with the 'Fight the Blight' mentality. But Merise brought me onto the show because when I found out she was Darkfriend, I wanted to try new things to try and keep a few things in common with her. So I guess it's a relationship builder more than anything, and plus I like to give myself challenges. This will be a real personal test and I hope I don't fail. (Laughs)
He continues to Shayol Ghul's entrance where his two mentors are slowly coming into view. One is a quite tall man with dark brown eyes and appears quite handsome, if slightly marred by his hawk nose. The other is an average height woman with an average appearance, her brown hair hanging to just past her shoulders and her blue eyes watching Jahar approach with a practical analytical assessment of her new pupil.
Jahar nervously smiles as he reaches the two and it's clear on his face he's unsure what to do. The woman comes forward and shakes Jahar's hand with a smile.
Mesaana: Hello, I'm Mesaana, and you must be young Jahar. It's nice to meet you!
Jahar: Um, hello Mesaana. Nice to meet you too. I must say, I'm pretty nervous about having to fake this. I'm not sure I can pull it off.
Demandred: Of course you can! We're teaching you after all. I'm Demandred.
Mesaana shuddered at the word 'teaching', but smoothed her face into a grimace as Demandred firmly shakes Jahar's hand, almost gripping it painfully tight and measuring the man up. When he retracts his hand, he doesn't look pleased.
Demandred: So, what do you know of us, Narishma?
Jahar tries not to fidget, but in the presence of two Forsaken, he clearly finds it difficult.
Jahar: Well, uh… I don't know anything much except the stories you get told as children to scare you to sleep. You know, Aginor will come and eat your bones if you don't sleep, or Mesaana will take you from your bed and teach you manners. But that's all really.
Mesaana's grimace worsens and Demandred's lips twitch into an almost smile at her reaction. The tall man motions for the three of them to walk away from Shayol Ghul and head back down the path Jahar had taken to meet them. They stroll in silence for a little while, but curiosity gets the better of Demandred.
Demandred: We were merely children's stories before we were released? What was mine?
Jahar: You hadn't touched the world in thousands of years, so you just faded into myth and became stories to scare children. Demandred, you were… mother always told me that you wouldalmost get me, but more often than not she'd let me get away.
Demandred's face turns to thunder and he does not speak again. Jahar gets worried that he isn't going to make it through the four weeks training before getting killed. He turns to Mesaana instead, who seems the friendlier out of the two.
Jahar: So, Mesaana, why were you two picked out of all of the Forsaken to teach me?
Mesaana: Well, we're a little short of Chosen, not Forsaken, at the moment. And please, don't say teach. We're instructing you, mentoring and guiding you, not teach. Aginor's dead. Rahvin's dead. Be'lal's dead. Asmodean's dead, according to Demandred. (Glances at Demandred, who is purposefully ignoring them) Sammael's dead. (A half smile quirks onto Demandred's lips, brightening his demeanour) Lanfear's dead. So many dead… but the SemDemAana Connection lives.
Jahar: The SemDem… what?
Mesaana: The SemDemAana Connection. It's a pact myself, Demandred and Semirhage made over three thousand years ago saying that we will not kill each other until the rest are dead.
Jahar: And then?
Demandred can't resist.
Demandred: And then we see who stands last out of the three of us and becomes Nae'blis.
Jahar: Nae'blis?
Mesaana: The Last to Die. Head of the Chosen. I suppose we had better fill you in on some information about the Chosen or you'll never get past the initial background questioning by the panel. The Nae'blis at the moment is a Chosen called Moridin.
Jahar: There isn't a Forsaken called Moridin.
Mesaana: Well, he used to be Ishamael before he got…
Demandred: Foolishly toasted?
Mesaana: … An unfortunate run-in with the Dragon Reborn.
Demandred: He was an idiot. Three times and three failures. I'm surprised the Great Lord didn't forgo recycling him. He didn't deserve a new, young body and permission to solely use the True Power. The True Power, Mesaana! Have you seen the saa in his eyes last we saw him?
Jahar: Uh, can you explain-
Mesaana: I know, how wrong is that! I've failed as many times as he and I do not think the Great Lord would be so kind to me if I… but I'm not that foolish. No, I won't make any more mistakes. (Teary) Poor Be'lal… we were getting along so well…
Jahar looks about in confusion.
Demandred: Be'lal was too forward in his plot. An admirable quality of his, but ultimately his downfall. I shall never make a mistake like that. But I digress. We are at the Gateway point.
They arrive at a patch of rocks much like the rest. Jahar is still very confused, but decides that his mentors will explain in good time. He can feel when Demandred takes hold of saidin and makes a Gateway and steps through.
Mesaana: Come on before you catch your… just go on.
She gently prods Jahar in the back and he walks through to find himself in…
Jahar: Dragonmount? This is where I'm going to be… guided?
Demandred: Of course. No-one really comes up this high and the show had a little place built specially for your training.
Jahar: Oh. That's nice.
Mesaana follows Jahar and eyes the small brick building in the distance.
Mesaana: It's lucky you didn't get Graendal as a mentor. She would have had a fit if she had to train there.
Demandred: That, or she would have crushed his mind and filled it with all the necessary requirements for being a Chosen just to win.
Demandred and Mesaana: Stupid bitch.
Jahar raises an eyebrow at this comment, but keeps quiet.
Jahar: Shall we go to the building?
Demandred: Of course.
They set off and within ten minutes are entering through the stout wooden door to find a rather bare room with a table big enough for three and three chairs, which they sit themselves on.
Mesaana: The first most important thing you must remember is that you can't keep calling us Forsaken. Always refer to us and yourself as Chosen, for we are after all Those Chosen to Rule the World Forever.
Demandred: Or we'll take it in turns to bitch-slap you.
Jahar: (Annoyed) Right, got it. Anything else?
A wry chuckle escapes Demandred.
Demandred: Anything else indeed. Narishma, there is more than a lifetimes worth of knowledge you need to pass as a Chosen, but we have to condense it and fake enough of it so you'll do. And if you don't… (Laughs evilly)
Jahar: Can you explain what you two were going on about earlier?
Mesaana: I suppose. What didn't you understand?
Jahar: Um… all of it? Great Lord? Recycling? True Power and this saa?
Mesaana: (Slaps forehead) I forget how little you know. The Great Lord is what we call the Dark One. You must always refer to him as such. If you want to be really posh, you can call him the Great Lord of the Dark. He likes that. And if you think the Great Lord is getting grumpy, bring him fish pie. He's a sucker for the stuff and might overlook your non-Chosen-ness. Right, recycling is when we die and the Great Lord takes our soul and gives us a new body to carry on anew. It can be very handy for people like Aginor who can't go five minutes without dying. He wasOsan'gar, but he died again. I don't think the Great Lord will be so kind this time, fool man.
Demandred: I'll take over. The True Power is power the Great Lord can lend us when we're in dire need of it… Unless your name is Moridin. (Mutters to himself angrily) True Power is like the One Power, but from the Great Lord himself. It has a heavy penalty I'd rather not go into, but suffice to say it isn't pleasant. Saa is a side effect to using the True Power a lot. Saa are black dots in the eyes that move from left to right. If you wield the True Power too much, a temporary blindness can occur from a mass of saa in the eyes. Moridin is a fool using the True Power solely, but let's not get into that. Enough learning today. What I want to do is test how strong a channeller you are. If you're not strong enough, you'll never fake being Chosen.
Jahar: What do you want me to do?
Demandred: Outside now.
Jahar traipses outside while Demandred and Mesaana perfect their regal stroll behind, quietly conversing out of Jahar's hearing. Eventually they come to a stop in a small clearing of relatively flat land. Mesaana and Demandred stand on the edge and direct Jahar to stand in the centre and he obliges.
Demandred: Jump.
Jahar: Huh?
Demandred's patience with Jahar finally runs out and he takes hold of saidin.
Demandred: I said jump, bitch!
The older man wraps flows of Air around the Arafellin and begins 'jumping' him up and down, though it looks more like Demandred is shaking the life out of poor Jahar. Eventually he halts and Jahar gracelessly falls to the floor.
Mesaana: You should not try his patience. Demandred doesn't suffer fools gladly.
Jahar mutters to himself and the two Forsaken exchange glances. They're clearly not convinced of their candidate's ability to fake it.
Demandred: (Ticked off) Touch your toes and then run around this clearing five times, then… channel a glass of water over. I'm parched.
Jahar: …
Mesaana: Make it a goblet of wine for me.
Jahar: When did I become a manservant?
Demandred warningly begins to channel flows of Air again and Jahar frowns.
Jahar: (Grumpily) Yeah, I'm touching my toes.
A series of ridiculous tasks ensue while Demandred and Mesaana sit on chairs (provided by their compliant manservant) while Jahar balances one legged on a chair without channelling. Mesaana is reading a book. Every so often Demandred or Mesaana give the chair a prod with a flow of Air and share a chuckle when he wobbles or falls off.
Jahar: I thought you were going to test my strength in the Power!
Demandred: I thought I'd have a few hours of peace and quiet first. I was strategising.
Mesaana: And I was reading a very good book I got from a stasis box. One of Elan Morin's if I'm not mistaken. He had such funny ideas. He actually explained why dogs can't fly – as if it needed to be explained! I did you a great favour, Jahar, in letting you stand on that chair because Demandred got think up a strategy!
Demandred: And you're in luck. I have a plan. Let's test his strength in the Power.
Jahar: You were going to do that before this manservant business!
Demandred: Well I changed my mind and I'm changing it again. Hold of much of saidin as you can and I'll judge you.
Jahar takes hold of saidin, still standing one legged on the chair, and the two Forsaken come over to take a look.
Demandred: Hmm, he's pretty sound – I reckon he could have taken down Asmodean given a chance.
Mesaana peers into Jahar's eyes, shining a saidar created small ball of light and then opens Jahar's mouth and stares inside.
Mesaana: He looks sound enough. Nice shiny hair. Hair can take you far among the Chosen.
Jahar fends Mesaana off and jumps off the chair.
Jahar: I'm not an animal or something!
The two Forsaken look at him with contempt as if he's an animal and Jahar frowns.
Jahar: I'm not!
Mesaana gives a broad smile and leans over to Demandred with a chuckle.
Mesaana: (Stage whisper) He thinks he's people!
Jahar: Hey!
Demandred and Mesaana look at him blankly.
Demandred: Run, bitch!
Jahar runs around the flat ground, looking ready to kill.
Mesaana: I think you've really got him in hand.
Demandred: (Smugly) I know.
But what is to come for our young Forsaken Faker, Jahar Narishma? Tune in next time to find out!
Chapter 2: Repeatedly Being Male
Chapter Text
Jahar Narishma, Callandor wielder, has spent all of a day learning to fake being a Forsaken, well Chosen as he has to say now, and it's not going as well as his two mentors – Demandred and Mesaana – hoped. Still, there's a lot to Jahar they don't know and surely he'll come out and show them what he's made of. There are just a few little problems that need ironing out…
Mesaana: One major thing you have to learn. You've got to show the Great Lord that you're a keeper and not wimpy because a lot of the male Chosen have bit the dust.
Jahar: Aren't you going to say at least 'good morning'? … And why?
Demandred: (Grumpily) I don't do mornings. Some think it's because they're stupid or weak, but the real answer is that it's actually a crime to be a male Chosen. I've barely avoided the clutches of death myself and I'm up for the crime of repeatedly being male.
Jahar: So how have you avoided it?
Demandred: Why magic, of course.
Jahar looks perturbed.
Jahar: Ma-gic?
Demandred sighs.
Demandred: (Dully) Gleeman's trickery.
Jahar: Oh. Really?
Demandred: You are unbelievably gullible.
Demandred clips Jahar around the ear and Jahar sulks while seating himself at their little table. The two Forsaken join him and a silence descends.
Jahar: Um, can I ask you two a question?
Mesaana: I suppose. What is it?
Jahar: Well, in the Age of Legends, what did you use to do? It must have been pretty important stuff if you're such powerful Fo- Chosen now, right?
Demandred and Mesaana share grimaces and look up as a flashback takes place.
Demandred's Flashback
"Barid Bel? Your latest book hit the shops today." His secretary popped her head around the door and Barid looked up from his latest manuscript.
"And? What are the sales like?" he asked, hope tingeing his voice.
"Well… Lews Therin's 'Of How Incredible Ilyena Therin Moerelle Is' is selling like hot cakes," she replied timidly and Barid slumped onto his desk.
"Oh man… that Lews Therin is going to drive me insane…"
End Flashback
Demandred cringes.
Mesaana's Flashback
"Now children, what do we get if we add four and six?" Saine Tarasind asked gently.
"Twelve!" the children chirped. Saine sighed, but a bright smile was fixed on her face. She wished she was in the Collam Daam instead of a lowly teacher.
One day… she was going to teach them all…
End Flashback
Mesaana laughs weakly.
Demandred: We all had, uh, very important jobs. I was a greatly respected person.
Mesaana: And I… I was as well.
Jahar doesn't look convinced.
Mesaana: Well Moghedien was only an investment advisor!
Jahar: A what?
Demandred: It doesn't matter. We're powerful, you're not. I'll punch your lights out and you won't be able to do a thing, so… be quiet.
Jahar: …
Jahar: … Can I talk now?
Demandred sighs heavily as if he's at his last straw and waves loosely at Mesaana to talk instead.
Mesaana: Talk to me, then. (In a motherly manner) What do you have to say?
Jahar: Sorry?
Demandred mutters to himself and Mesaana shrugs.
Mesaana: I was angling for 'please'.
Jahar: What for?
Mesaana: Talking to me, of course! I am Chosen after all.
Mesaana seems to preen, then realises she acting a little too Graendal like and immediately stops.
Jahar: Okay. So, what shall I be studying today?
Mesaana: Hmm… I think we should focus on your look. What do you think, Demandred?
Demandred: Those stupid braids with bells aren't going to sell the Great Lord of the Dark on you being a Chosen. If we're going to fake this, you are going to have to cut them off.
Jahar looks incredibly offended.
Jahar: What? No! These – these are beautiful! I braid them everyday, weaving the bells in the ties at the bottom. It's an Arafel thing. They tell people you aren't a Fade so you aren't killed right off the mark.
Demandred: If you're going to be a Chosen, there are no bells. Got it? I suppose you can keep the hair, but you're going to have to wear it down, or tied in a less girlish manner.
Jahar sulks, while Mesaana brightens.
Mesaana: Cheer up, with your hair down, or in a low, manly ponytail, your hair will be shown off and super shiny! Remember – hair is key to being a Chosen. It means you're full of vitality and stuff, see?
Jahar: No. Is that all I have to do? No bells and braids?
Demandred scrutinises Jahar, making him uncomfortable. Mesaana crosses her arms and joins Demandred in looking over Jahar, poking him here and there. Jahar grimaces, but takes it quietly.
Demandred: After looking at you properly… you're just… too girly, as a whole.
Jahar: How?
Demandred: You look like you're twelve – you're too youthful for your own good. If you don't look like you could fight as a general under the Shadow, why should the judges believe you could?
Jahar: (Mutters incomprehensively)
Mesaana: Evil muttering is good! Ishamael was famed for it! I used to be forced to sit closest to him during the meeting 'cause no-one else would and not even I could hear what he was muttering about! Good thinking, boy!
Jahar: I'm Jahar.
Mesaana: I'm sure you are.
Jahar gives up and slumps, glaring at Demandred.
Demandred: Look Mesaana – evil petty glaring. A classic Chosen trait. He has more potential than I first estimated.
Mesaana: So he is!
Jahar: Ugh, why am I being taught by incompetent idiots like you?
Mesaana and Demandred: Wow!
Demandred: Inflated self-importance!
Mesaana: We've got a winner! It's all inside him – he just needs to focus, or use a trigger. But what could it be?
Jahar huffs and goes to his tiny room, shutting the door loudly. Mesaana turns to Demandred, eyes bright with amazement.
Mesaana: (Slightly hushed, but extremely excited) Could it be too much to hope he is in that room to create evil machinations that take the form of grandiose plans founded on insane assumptions?
Demandred: (More reserved) I do not know, Mesaana, but I think we should refrain from sleep tonight. Just in case.
Mesaana nods and the two go off to do what they like until Jahar decides to stop sulking and come out of his room.
Later…
Jahar: Sorry for storming off like that. I wasn't in a good place.
Mesaana: Whatever it was earlier, hold on to it! Just focus on that event and you'll have no trouble passing yourself off as a Chosen.
She goes to go back to her top-secret Aes Sedai report, getting her red marker ready, then does a double-take on Jahar.
Mesaana: OMFG – Demandred look!
Demandred sighs with irritation and looks up from his book – Destroying Your Ultimate Nemesis For Dummies – and his eyebrows raise slightly. Which for Demandred is like a normal person's jaw dropping.
Demandred: You actually look like a man. Well done.
Jahar's hair is in a low ponytail. He's got a serious look on his face, so he looks older. Mesaana to delighted and does a little jig.
Mesaana: Now all we have to do is instruct him in our super-evil weaves so he can prove he can kill folk and—
Jahar: I think I know some of that stuff already.
Demandred and Mesaana: What?
Jahar: Well, I knew Mazrim Taim for a bit and he seemed to know a lot of kinda evil weaves of the One Power. Kinda looked like you, Demandred, and wasn't big on smiling.
Demandred: (Chuckles) Oh, Mazrim. He's a great guy. Some of the zippy one-liners he's come out with about Rand Al'Thor – the man should be in comedy, not leading a cadre of half-mad male channellers who knows where.
Mesaana: I don't this Mazrim, but I'm sure they weren't as totally evil and badass as what we know. Now outside!
She has switched to Teacher Mode, and it's rather intimidating. Her somewhat plain features harden into planes of resolve. Jahar clearly thinks about saying something, but gives in and goes outside. Demandred gets up.
Demandred: You haven't seen nothing yet, boy! The things we're going to show you will make your unnaturally girly head spin! Your sweat will be as cold as ice tonight with the memories of this afternoon!
Jahar: Oh… Light, why did I enter this again?
And so we leave poor Jahar Narishma to endure his final weeks of training to pass himself off as Chosen. What will happen next time though when Demandred and Mesaana decide to call in a fellow Chosen to aid them in moulding their candidate into a false Chosen? Tune in next week!
Chapter 3: Guest Motivator
Chapter Text
Our protagonist Jahar Narishma, Arafellin, has been working hard with the help of his two mentors, Demandred and Mesaana, to fake being a Chosen. He has endured the two Chosen mostly by grinning and bearing it, but his test of strength will come because his mentors are planning a special visit from a fellow Chosen…
Mesaana: Today we get a guest who will help you fake it. (Extra cheerily) I'm so looking forward to it!
She jumps up and down with glee.
Jahar: Who is coming?
Demandred: Our good friend Semirhage.
Jahar: Part of your SemDemAana Connection?
Mesaana: Of course.
There's a perfectly calm, collected knock at the door and the two Forsaken rise from their seats. They cross the room, Mesaana smiling while Demandred has a slight quirk on his lips that could almost be taken for a smile. Mesaana reaches the door first, being so bubbly and happy, and opens it to reveal a tall, stern looking woman. Her skin is dark and her eyes pools of black, the same shade as her conservative black dress. She looks neither happy nor sad, just a bit blank faced.
Mesaana: (Overjoyed) Semirhage!
She embraces the woman, who stands still and doesn't do anything, clearly disliking the hug but Mesaana either doesn't notice, or doesn't care. She releases the taller woman and Demandred extends a hand, which Semirhage shakes.
Demandred: Semirhage.
Semirhage: Demandred.
Mesaana: Mesaana! Let's do the SemDemAana fists!
Semirhage sighs heavily, but nods. The three shuffle together in a tight knit circle, extend a fist each and begin bumping knuckles.
Semirhage, Demandred and Mesaana: (each with different levels of enthusiasm) The SemDemAana Connection! Woo!
Jahar blinks, bewildered by the whole event. Demandred looks over to Jahar, then gestures to Semirhage.
Demandred: This is the one.
Semirhage turns her cold eyes on Jahar, who baulks and gives a nervous wave.
Jahar: Uh… please don't kill me?
Semirhage looks back to Demandred.
Semirhage: Are you sure about this one? He doesn't appear to reflect the attributes you told me about.
Her eyes narrow.
Semirhage: Is this a trick?
Demandred and Mesaana exchange panicked looks before bowing and scraping.
Demandred: Of course not! Our pact is still strong. The two (he glances at Mesaana) – I mean three of us plan well together. I felt your wisdom could enlighten the boy endlessly.
Mesaana: Y-yeah! We really like you…
Mesaana cowered, as if expecting to be hit. Semirhage is apparently calmed and she swishes over to Jahar, who has slowly backed into a wall.
Semirhage observes Jahar, before a slow, slightly manic, smile appears on her face.
Semirhage: (Eyes glimmering) Yes… this one could bring great pleasure.
She lifts her hand and begins holding saidar and weaving Spirit.
Demandred and Mesaana: Semirhage, NO!
They grab her and pull her back, then quickly let her go, afraid she'll lash out. Semirhage blinks and shakes her head.
Semirhage: I apologise. It's just been so long since I enjoyed my pleasures. That brat Seanchan meant I could not slip away too often.
Demandred breathes easier.
Demandred: Don't worry about it. We were hoping you could give the boy some tips on how to fake it as a Chosen.
Mesaana: Yeah! You're great at stuff like that!
Jahar is grabbed by Demandred and sat in a chair. Mesaana gets a chair for Semirhage. Jahar looks like a trapped animal.
Semirhage smiles.
Semirhage: The most important thing to be a Chosen, is intimidation. Cruelty, torture, pain… my specialities. It creates an atmosphere of intimidation that allows me to be left alone. Even the Chosen fear me. Boy, let me tell you how to cause pain…
A strange montage begins of Semirhage talking, motioning with her hands, while Jahar pales. Demandred and Mesaana smirk while Semirhage talks, her eyes glimmering with eagerness.
Semirhage: And that's how you extract a liver with a person still alive and conscious. The look on their faces when they see what I'm holding…
She chuckles. Jahar throws up.
Mesaana: Ew! You're lucky you missed my shoes, or there'd be hell to pay!
Demandred: Me too. I paid ten children for these shoes! Do you think it was easy snatching those kids?
Jahar wipes his mouth and scowls.
Jahar: Shut up! I don't have time for your whining! I got a little queasy, I'm over it. I'm going to win this competition!
Demandred and Mesaana: (Mocking) Ooooooh! Someone's eaten his bowl instead of his porridge today!
They laugh and Jahar strengthens his resolve, ignoring them and turning to Semirhage.
Jahar: Lady Semirhage, could you tell me more about what you do?
Demandred and Mesaana stop laughing.
Demandred: Wait, what?
Mesaana: Are you mad?
Semirhage nods. Demandred and Mesaana pale.
Demandred: (Muttered to Mesaana) I think we've created a monster. Not even I can stand to hear more than one of her tales.
Mesaana nods. They shuffle out of the room.
Semirhage tells more things to Jahar. Despite Jahar's face being frozen in horror, he listens and endures. After two hours, Semirhage takes her leave.
Demandred: Safe travels! Don't forget we're going to enact part forty-two b in two weeks!
Semirhage: I won't.
Mesaana: We're on forty-two b already? Wow, the time really does fly when you're plotting to overthrow the world.
They shut the door and turn to Jahar. He's pale, but grinning.
Demandred: Well, it seems my work here is done. You've officially turned to the dark side.
Jahar: What? I've simply learnt to stomach that Semirhage woman's stories. I think I might win this.
Mesaana: We really are good mentors, aren't we?
Demandred: We are. We're amazing. This could be a new project to rake in money and evildoers!
Jahar rolls his eyes and retreats. Behind closed doors, he secretly braids his hair again. Demandred and Mesaana are too caught up in complimenting themselves to hear the slight tinkle of bells.
And so the inner strength of Jahar Narishma is displayed, enduring the SemDemAana Connection with only minor mental scarring. But what about the looming final test he will have to endure and will he come out triumphant? Tune in next week!
Chapter Text
It's been four long weeks for one Jahar Narishma, Asha'man, as he has valiantly strived to fake being one of Those Chosen to Rule the World Forever. His mentors –Demandred and Mesaana – are a little more pleased than they were previously, but will not admit that they are as nervous as their candidate is on the big day. For today is the day that a panel of three important Dark figures judge four competitors who apparently are the best candidates for being Chosen, not knowing that one has only been potential Chosen for four weeks. How will he fare in the ultimate test? The panel consists of the Dark One himself and Hand of the Dark, Shaidar Haran. The last panel member is the many named Heart of the Dark, Betrayer of Hope, Death, Great Lord's Regent on Earth, Heartfang, the Wanderer, the Watcher – formerly Ishamael, and now known as Moridin. Short interviews are given by the three. Dark One (or DO): I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS. MY CHOSEN HAVE BEEN DIMINISHING QUICKER THAN I HAD ANTICIPATED. SOME NEW STOCK IS IN ORDER. Shaidar Haran (or SH): I need some more Chosen for me to bitch-slap, so having a look at this rabble will give me great pleasure. (Chuckles evilly) Moridin: I'm not too fond of new Chosen being, well, chosen since I am Nae'blis and all. But Shaidar and myself do run the Chosen show now, so another lackey to browbeat shouldn't be too bad… SH: I control them alone! You also must answer to me! To speak to me is to speak to the Great Lord himself! Moridin: Oh, yeah? Well, take some of this, bitch! Moridin jumps to his feet and is about to channel the True Power when he see a figurative raised eyebrow of the DO, who is clearly suggesting that Moridin's actions are not wise. Moridin grumbles and sits back down. DO: STOP BEING SO CHILDISH, YOU TWO. DO YOU WISH TO DISPLEASE ME? (Disappointed) THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A NICE OUTING… SH and Moridin: (Mumbling) Yes, Great Lord. We move away from the panel to go and have a look at the people who will be the potential Forsaken alongside our Forsaken Faker, Jahar Narishma. Alviarin: I practically am a For- I mean, Chosen already! I've got the mark and everything, so I don't think this apparent faker is going to go far. The D- Great Lord has untold power and will immediately discern who is true to him and who is not. Kisman: They brought me back especially for this gig, so I'm not going to waste a moment! This faker is toast! Galina: Sevanna lent me for the day to do this. I heard the show paid a pretty price for me, so I'm probably pretty close to being Chosen, right? Right? She looks at the other two, who narrow their eyes in disdain at the woman's tattered clothes. Kisman: Huh, I was part of the Fearsome Foursome while you look like you've been dragged through a hedgerow, the Aiel Waste, all of Ebou Dar and a small market stall backwards. Galina: (Snaps) Yeah, well you got Fain-ed! Alviarin: I think we should calm down before we get oldtay offay. Kisman: (Confused) Is that the Old Tongue? Galina: Assay ownclay. Alviarin and Galina: Black Ajah Soopa Secret Speak! Alviarin and Galina hold hands and have impossibly bright smiles on their faces as suspiciously anime-like lights sparkle around them. The two women then exchange various hand slaps, hi-fives and knuckle bumping while Kisman sulks. We depart from these rather oblique characters to return to our incredibly nervous Forsaken Faker, Jahar Narishma. Demandred and Mesaana are hovering around him like nervous parents. If they were to hear this though… Demandred: You've got your 'Chosen determined face' and 'Chosen evil face'? Jahar: Yes, Demandred. Demandred: And you remember how to 'evilly mutter'? Jahar: Yes, Demandred. Demandred: And— Jahar: Yes, Dad. Demandred pales considerably. He puts on his own 'Chosen evil face' and turns away to sulk. Mesaana: Oh, you're all grown up now! You go out there and show them that you're a real potential Chosen! Jahar: You mean fake it. Isn't that what this was all about? Mesaana: (Laughs weakly) A drive to convert those to our side? What was that all about? We're here to fake our way through. No evil conversions to the Dark, not at all. Eheheheh… Demandred? Demandred decides to stop being emo and turns to face them again. He puts a hand on Jahar's shoulder and looks deathly serious. Demandred: Make us proud… or we won't let you forget this, ever. His tone is rather terrifying, but Jahar seems to take it in his stride. Jahar: I'm going to win this thing! The contestants are herded over to the judges' panel. Shaidar Haran leers, making the contestants uncomfortable. DO: ALL RIGHT. FOR THE FIRST EVENT, WE WANT TO SEE HOW WELL YOU DO UNDER PHYSICAL DURESS. The contestants look worried, shiftily glancing at each other. Jahar swallows, preparing himself for Semirhage to turn up to exact 'physical duress' on them. The Dark One clears his throat and Moridin offers him a glass of water. Shaidar pulls a face and Moridin smirks. DO: NO THANK YOU, MORIDIN, I'M FINE. ANYWAY, THE FIRST EVENT WILL BE… AN OBSTACLE COURSE. IF YOU CAN SURVIVE OUR OBSTACLE COURSE, YOU CLEARLY HAVE THE FORTITUDE TO BE A CHOSEN ONE. Shaidar Haran stands, towering over the group of wannabe-Chosen and pulls back a curtain dramatically. Behind it lies a fairly ordinary looking obstacle course. Four Forsaken stand at a part of the course; Sammael, arms folded and clearly irritated, Graendal, pouting, Asmodean, looking as if he is going faint, and Moghedien, steely-eyed. Kisman: You've gotta be kidding me. I got resurrected for this? The Dark One acts like he didn't hear that. DO: TAKE YOUR PLACES, PLEASE. The group head over to the starting line. Kisman begins stretching, jumping up and down, touching his toes. Jahar jumps, remembering the exercises Demandred and Mesaana forced him into, and begins standing on one leg. He isn't sure it will really help, but tries it anyway. Meanwhile, Galina and Alviarin simply trash talk. DO: SILENCE! … SORRY, I DIDN'T MEAN TO SOUND SO HARSH. PLEASE, FORGIVE ME. AHEM, ANYWAY, FIRST YOU MUST TAKE ON THE TUNNEL… OF DOOM. THEN, THE EGG AND SPOON RACE… OF DEATH. THAT PART CAN BE PRETTY TRICKY, I'VE HEARD. THEN YOU MUST GO OVER AND UNDER THE POSTS PROVIDED. AND LASTLY IS THE THREE-LEGGED RACE… DESTRUCTION. WE HAVE FOUR VOLUNTEERS FOR THAT. Sammael, Graendal, Asmodean and Moghedien scowl at Shadiar, who grins widely. DO: MORIDIN… Moridin nods and raises his hand. The True Power creates a ball of fire. Moridin: On your marks, get set… GO! The ball of fire explodes into the air and the four competitors begin running. Jahar gets onto his hands and knees and begins to crawl through the cloth and wire 'tunnel of doom'. He doesn't find it particularly challenging, and emerges to find Kisman already running to the table with the eggs and spoons. Jahar quickly catches up, with Alviarin on his heels. Kisman: No-one beats Raefar Kisman – especially girly-faced men like you! He carefully takes off, keeping his eyes of his egg and spoon while moving as quickly as possible. Jahar scowls. Jahar: I'm 'fresh faced'! 'Fresh faced'! He channels so air weaves hold his egg to his spoon and sprints. Kisman swears and copies Jahar to get further ahead. Galina and Alviarin are just behind Jahar, elbowing each other as they run. Galina: Get off me, bitch! Alviarin: Is that how you address your superior? Galina: I'm second in command, and I'll take your place soon! Alviarin: (Scoffs) Hah, yes, when I become a Chosen one! You're welcome to become head of the Black Ajah, then. Galina incomprehensively screams what can only be presumed to be an insult and drops her spoon in favour of pulling Alviarin's hair. Alviarin screeches and manages to free herself, then runs away. Galina huffs and snatches her discarded egg and spoon and chases Alviarin with murder in her eyes. Ahead, Kisman reaches the other table and puts down his perfectly safe egg and spoon. Then he surveys the surly group of Chosen. Graendal flutters her eyelashes and Kisman takes a step forward. Kisman: H-hello there. Graendal: You look like a sturdy young man who could win out against oafs like Sammael. Sammael: Hey! Graendal: (Ignores Sammael) Won't you choose me? Kisman: Hell yeah! Graendal grabs his arm and swiftly binds their legs together. Graendal: (Business-like) Great. Let's go. And they run. Graendal scowls each time Kisman doesn't run in perfect time with her, her irritation growing. Jahar reaches the three Chosen and Sammael grabs his shoulder. Sammael: You're coming with me. He binds their legs and drags Jahar with him. Jahar: W-whaaa…! Sammael: I'm strong and powerful. What more do you need? Jahar is clearly uncomfortable. Jahar: I suppose. Sammael: Excellent. If you see those scum for Chosen Asmodean or Moghedien, try to kill them. We could really do without them. Jahar: … Okay? They run together pretty well. Galina snatches Asmodean. Galina: You'll do. Asmodean: I really dislike physical exertion. Galina: Come on! Asmodean whines as Galina tugs him along. He lopes, his face a picture of disgust. Alviarin catches up. Moghedien sighs and goes along with her, irritated. They all begin to end up bunched together, which leads to chaos. There is a mass of channelling. Jahar and Sammael create thick weaves of air to trip their opponents while trying to deflect the attack of water Galina and Asmodean are shooting. Meanwhile, Graendal is calmly using Spirit to both control Kisman and Moghedien, leaving Alviarin far behind the rest to screech as Moghedien isn't moving, just hitting herself in the face. Graendal: (In the distance) Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself? Oh, I LOVE it when stupid weak Chosen get humiliated by me! Aren't I wonderful? Kisman: (Mind-controlled stupor) You are most beauteous and wonderful, Lady Graendal. Graendal: I should hope so. Meanwhile, Sammael and Jahar manage to take down Galina, leaving Asmodean to try and help her out. He appears to find making any physical contact with her distasteful, and so keeps pulling his sleeves over his hands while trying to pull her up again. Asmodean: (Muttered) Oh, come on you great lump of a woman. Get up! He prods her with a lace-covered finger and Galina stirs. Galina: I've won… Galina's nose is bloody from the fall. Asmodean continues his pulling and poking. Asmodean: Well, if you mean won the honour of having your face smashed into the ground by a Chosen one, then yes… you won… Galina moans and slumps. Asmodean gives up and gets out his harp. Sammael and Jahar are trying to chase down Graendal and Kisman, who are in the lead. Jahar: Can't we trip them? I'll take down Kisman, and you go for the woman! How is she going so fast, anyway? She's loaded top to toe with jewellery. Sammael: That she may be, but look what she's… not wearing. Jahar: Oh. Right. Well, you take her down. You know her weaknesses better than I do. Sammael: Yes, I do. I know she guards them so well I don't really know them, and that if I as so much as create an air weave that ruffles her gauze, she'll kill me. Jahar gapes at Sammael, while they run. Jahar: You're afraid of her? Sammael scowls. Sammael: No; I'm afraid of what she will do to me – I mean, us. We won't win; we'll draw. She's a psycho. If she gets as much as a scratch on her body, she'll flip out and make us wish we're dead. Jahar: (Sighs) Being Chosen is a hard life… Sammael: (Snorts) You're telling me. Be happy with second. They run on. The judges sit, watching. Moridin scoffs and folds his arms, clearly unimpressed. Moridin: (Disgusted) Like a bunch of five year-olds. DO: (Wipes a tear) IT'S LIKE THE OLD DAYS. I MISS THOSE. WATCHING YOU ALL SQUABBLE MADE ME FEEL LIKE A FATHER. Moridin: You ARE a father. Of lies, and darkness, the dark creatures that roam the land. Remember? DO: OH, YES. THOSE THINGS. GOOD TIMES. Moridin rolls his eyes. Shaidar: We have a winner! Graendal and Kisman cross the line, shortly followed by Sammael and Jahar. Graendal releases her control on Kisman, who blinks, bleary and stupefied. Kisman: I… won…? Graendal gets a good look at him, using her long pampered nails to hold him still at the chin. Graendal: Hmm… you're decidedly average. But I suppose even using something average is fair game if it allows you to win. Kisman: … Bwah? Graendal lets him go and sweeps off. Galina and Asmodean finally make it across the line, while Moghedien and Alviarin get a 'Did Not Finish'. The judges quietly mutter to each other over the results. The other Chosen detach themselves from their counterparts and leave. Jahar: Thank you for helping me! Sammael grunts and continues walking while Demandred scowls and waves his hands. Demandred: (Hisses) Stop that! Too nice! Jahar lets his hand fall and turns around, putting on 'Chosen determined face'. DO: THAT WAS VERY GOOD! ALL OF YOU DID VERY WELL. I THINK YOU COULD WELL SURVIVE THE HOARDS OF DO-GOODERS THAT COULD COME AFTER YOU IN THIS LINE OF WORK. Moridin: (Flatly) Yes. Very good. Shaidar: I hope you snivelling wrecks are prepared for the next task! He chuckles evilly. Moridin leans over and whispers to him. Shaidar: (Disappointed) No blood? Moridin shakes his head. Shaidar: Oh. The four contestants shift with discomfort and glance at each other. DO: WELL, THIS FELLOW HERE WON THE FIRST ROUND, SO WE'RE BEGINNING TO GET SUSPICIOUS OF THE REST OF YOU! BETTER PICK IT UP NEXT ROUND! Moridin: We present to you… He pulls down another curtain. There is simply a wooden box and some torches hung up to give lots of light. Moridin: The sketching-shoot. We used to have these things that could replicate what they saw accurately on paper in the Second Age. Unfortunately, none of them survived. So, much to my chagrin, we've got someone to sketch you instead. Come on out, Cyndane. A woman emerges with rather large… tracks of land, with an expression of pure hate at Moridin. Moridin merely smirks and removes a small trinket, waving it at her threateningly. Moridin: We don't want any upsets today… Cydane huffs and manages to compose her expression into a slightly less hateful one. She has a large sketch pad and pencils in her hands. Moridin: Cydane here is very good with drawing, when she wasn't being crazy. And she's had plenty of time to brush up on her skills over the years. The many, many years. Cyndane: Shut up! Moridin waves the trinket again and she falls silent. Shaidar: Who wishes to go first? Most EVIL pose wins. The four competitors shift and look at one another. Eventually Alviarin sighs and steps forward. Alviarin: I will. I am the prettiest here, after all. Cydane gives a bark of laughter and Alviarin scowls. DO: CALM DOWN, PEOPLE. I WANT SOME NICE SKETCHES. Cyndane bows. Cyndane: Of course, my master. She straightens and has a more personable air about her. Alviarin gets up on the wooden box and promptly catches her foot and falls off the box, winding herself. Alviarin: (Climbing to her feet, wheezy) I-I meant to do that. Just warming up! Cyndane takes a seat and readies her pencils. Alviarin catches her breath and sits on the edge of the box, looking sultry and evil, pouting as much as humanly possible. It gives her the air of having sucked a lemon. Cyndane: (Sketching feverishly) Yes, yes! Nice pout, more sultry! Good! Okay, tad more cleavage, evil loves cleavage… okay! Got the sketch! Alviarin gets up and smirks at the other three competitors. The three judges have a look at the sketch. DO: VERY GOOD. I LIKE THE DETAIL AROUND THE EYES. WE SHOULD HAVE MADE DRAWING AN EVENT. OH WELL, NEXT YEAR… Cyndane: Next! Kisman marches over to the box, brash as ever. He simply puts one foot on the box and pumps his arms. Kisman: Yeah, get a look at these babies! My pythons of glory! Come on! Cyndane sucks on her pencil. Cyndane: Mmm… very nice. Not up to the Dragon, but still… I suppose an amendment could be made… She chuckles evilly and begins sketching. Kisman kisses an arm, smirking. Kisman: Evil needs its muscles. I got the body and the face for this game, oh yeah! Cyndane: All done. Very… powerful imagery. Kisman struts off, proud. The judges have a look. Moridin: I don't think he understood the point of this… Shaidar: Next! Galina pushes Jahar forward. He looks briefly like a rabbit trapped in headlights, then pulls himself together and becomes determined. He stands on the box and weaves some light air weaves to create a lovely breeze to lightly blow his hair about. He pouts, looking intense and evil, hands extended forward as if to gather power in his hands. He recalls Mesaana forcing him to adopt this pose in training repeatedly, and watching him for a disturbing amount of time. Cyndane licks her lips as she sketches. Cyndane: This is hot stuff, if I do say so myself. He's got the pose AND the looks. I love it. I could eat him right up… She regretfully finishes and Jahar hops off the box and scurries back to the other competitors. DO: IF EVIL IS THAT PRETTY, THEN… WOW… I JUST CAN'T TAKE MY EYES OFF IT… Galina scoffs and steps forward. Galina: Hah, I can take you down, pretty boy! Just you watch! Jahar: Huh? Galina simply gets onto the box, leers and pulls the top part of her dress down, baring her chest with a creepy whoop. Cyndane cringes and tries to sketch as fast as possible to end the pose. Cyndane: (Muttered) I said cleavage is evil, not full frontal… She finishes up and waves for Galina to stop. Galina smirks and pulls her top back up, sauntering back to the group, who gape at her. Galina: Oh yeah, in the bag. The DO stares at the sketch in horror. DO: WOW… I WISH I COULD TAKE MY EYES OFF THIS… Moridin: Hide it, Cyndane. She tucks it into her sketchbook and the DO sighs and blinks. DO: AH, MUCH BETTER. THANK YOU. YOU MAY GO, CYNDANE. She bows again and leaves. The DO turns to the competitors. DO: I MUST SAY THAT THE PRETTY BOY TOOK THIS ROUND. YOU ALL PERFORMED… ADMIRABLY. AND NOW THE FINAL ROUND! Shaidar: We want you each to come up with an evil one line. A sentence of pure evil! He laughs evilly, making the atmosphere awkward. Moridin: Come on, then. Chop-chop and all that. Galina, still high off her sketch posing, steps forward, a proud glint in her eyes. Galina: Mourn, pitiful, foolish mortals, for you will fall to our glorious tyranny! DO, Moridin and Shaidar share some appreciative looks. DO: GOOD VOCABULARY. I ENJOYED THE PITYING OF THOSE FOOLS. Moridin rubs his chin and nods. Moridin: Hm, acceptable. Alviarin glares at Galina's apparent head-start and shoves her out of the way, gaining the judges attention. Alviarin: Hark, I hear the cries of blood and war and laugh! She cackles madly. DO: THE LAUGHING WAS QUITE MAD, BUT I FELT THE LINE WAS A LITTLE HAMMY. Shaidar and Moridin nod in agreement. Alviarin sniffs and walks off to the side. Kisman pushes Jahar back and heads to towards the judges. Kisman: (Strikes a dramatic pose) Look unto me and despair, for I am the bringing of your downfall! DO sighs, uncertain. DO: DRAMATIC FLAIR AND SELF-IMPORTANCE BUT… IT'S JUST MISSING SOMETHING… Moridin and Shaidar nod again before looking over to the last contestant. Jahar steps up and takes a breath. This is his moment of truth. He flashes back to all the training Demandred and Mesaana has given him over the course of several weeks. The traits required for becoming Chosen flow through him: evil petty glaring, inflated self importance and the ability to demean others. A line comes to him and he opens his mouth. Jahar: (Glaring both evilly, and pettily) Ugh, run bitch, for I am far above any of your estimations and my prowess in torturing you with saidin would make Semirhage weep with joy! Moridin looks impressed and the DO claps his hands together while Shaidar shrugs. DO: BEAUTIFUL! THAT DOMINEERING SNEER AND ARROGANCE! IT REMINDS ME OF THE OLD DAYS. Demandred wipes a proud tear away. Mesaana snuffles into her hanky. Mesaana: Oh, he listened to us! Good boy! DO: THAT CONCLUDES OUR EVENTS. The competitors bow and file out while the judges think on what they have witnessed today. DO: WHO DO I THINK IS FAKING? HMM… WELL, THAT GALINA SEEMED TO HAVE THE SPEECH DOWN PAT, BUT I FEEL LACKED SOME OF THE REQUIREMENTS. I ENJOY SOME CONNIVING AS MUCH AS THE NEXT PERSON, BUT IT ISN'T ENOUGH TO BE CHOSEN. We go over to Moridin, who looks irritated. Moridin: This is over now, yes? Someone was faking? It was Jahar Narishma; he's been listed in several reports as working for the Light, so it wasn't exactly hard to figure out. The others are a bunch of losers, though, so we could do worse than Narishma. I'm changing my answer: clearly that oaf Kisman was faking. The useless… We pull away before the string of insults are caught. Lastly, we go to Shaidar Haran, who is sitting with an eerie, sinister smile. Shaidar: A faker? The Hand of the Dark will find out the truth… A game show? Of course my master would do something so… anyway. Alviarin got too worked up by the other competitors, as if frightened they would prove more competent than she. We look forward to interrogating her, oh yes… He chuckles and gets to his feet, towering ominously. Demandred and Mesaana are informed of their protégé's success and they quickly head over to the nervously pacing Jahar. Demandred: We have the results. Mesaana tries to look grim, but keeps occasionally suppressing a smile. Jahar: … Did I win? Demandred: We have to kill you, I'm afraid. Jahar: WHAT? Demandred: … because you fooled them, so you may end up competing with us for our Dark One's favour! Mesaana: AHHH, you did it, you did it! Jahar lights up and the three of them dance in a circle squee-ing and holding hands. Eventually they calm down and Demandred tears his hands from Jahar and Mesaana, regaining his composure. Demandred: Well done. You couldn't have done it without us. Remember that. He narrows his eyes warningly. Jahar grins. Jahar: Thank you so much! A winner is me! He does a jig and we fade out. We visited Jahar a few months after his experience to see how he was getting along. He has surprising news to tell us. Jahar: I mean, I always thought that walking in the Light was the honourable thing to do. But now I think it's a little overrated. After some talks with one of my mentors, Demandred, I decided that maybe the Chosen life was cut out for me. I wield Callandor and everything. Being able to level a city sounds like fun. And I don't think I have enough fun. Now would you mind leaving? I have evil plotting to practice. I want to get good for when I dramatically turn on my friends. Dramatic flair is important, apparently. And so our young hero has decided to become… well, an antagonist. All we can do is wish young Jahar well, and hope someone takes Callandor off him before he really does level a city. Thank you for tuning in, dear viewers, to the ever popular Faking It!
Notes:
Seriously, thank you to all who read this weird, little tale. I wrote it on a whim after watching Faking It and reading too much Wheel of Time.
NearDeathMetalJen on Chapter 4 Fri 12 Oct 2018 04:26AM UTC
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CatAlex on Chapter 4 Sun 14 Oct 2018 02:52PM UTC
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halcyonine on Chapter 4 Fri 31 May 2019 12:13PM UTC
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CatAlex on Chapter 4 Fri 31 May 2019 01:30PM UTC
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