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After returning to his seat Tyrael watched Lidda's and Val's battle with one another. He watched with some interest as Lidda took on the form of vicious beast while Val fought her off bravely using a rune blade. After seeing it's effects a few of the runes Tyrael recognized what her sword would do, and noted that it would be effective against Lidda's shapeshifting and healing.
 
But as he watched, Tyrael couldn't help but feel bored. Watching others fight is something he does often back in the Inferno. He has lead armies against a demonic horde, seiged entire planes for dominance, and was pratically the only one fighting against Kudd and his army. And yet he found no pleasure in fighting anymore, and even watching two close assoitates show off their abilities only made Tyrael mildly interested. Sighing Tyrael took a sip of his wine, which for him was tasteless and hardly even alcoholic, despite being a more fine wine reserved for nobility. He wouldn't be able to tell the taste anyways unless it was strong enough to have been poison.
 
Mindlessly sipping away Tyrael turned his head to the person next to him, which was Uicle. The strange teacher who was actually a staff, not the suit of armor attached to the staff. Tyrael never really bothered to ask how he came to be, and simply assumed (Rightfully so) that it had something to do with the gods, and thus not really his business. Tyrael has not become any more curious, but he decided to speak to Uicle nontheless. Normally not one for idle chatter, but Tyrael did feel the need to voice his opnion to someone who won't breate him for it.
 
"I was once a warrior of my tribe, and now I am a general of demonic hordes. War is my business, and through battle I find fortune. Yet I sit here to make an alliance with those who are not even aware of the threat behind their doors. These so called Barons and Lords who have been fitted for war but has never tasted steel themselves. Why are we here? Have we've been demoted to entertainment?"
 
Uicle glanced curiously up from his scanning of the crowd (he wasn't taking chances this year), at Tyrael beginning to speak to him. His free hand slowed in stirring the Dragon Spit as the Demonomancy teacher continued. "Primarily, we're here to show the new students what powers they can attain in a safe environment that isn't the battlefield. As I'm sure you're well aware, most mages are forced into the various militaries and get their training there. We're also here to show the nations that the College is just as powerful as ever, and quite dangerous to start a fight with." Uicle gestured with his staff to the ongoing duel. 
 
"This isn't entertainment so much as a subtle threat. 'See what we can do? Imagine what it'd be like if our powers were turned to war.' The nations, from time to time, need a reminder that we're a college of mages and that we are quite willing to use that magic to defend ourselves. As for Alliances, well, that's politics I'm afraid. You and I would both prefer just telling them that Kudd will destroy them if they don't work together, but that damn fools don't like that. So we have to let Lucillia and others use a lighter touch to push and goad and manipulate them into an alliance that will save the world. If it wasn't for all the innocents that would die, I'd be all for letting a nation or two get overrun. Just as a wake up call." Uicle turned to better regard the Demonomancy teacher.
 
"Mortals are stupid Tyrael. Surely you've realized this by now. Whether they are humans, Esyires, Orcs, Dwarves, Naga, or Elves, they never give into sensibility. They always do something violent or selfish. Very few of them are intelligent enough, like Khan, Lidda, Val, or Joseph, to realize the bigger picture. Those few are the ones that have to corral and control the rest."
 
Tyrael wasn't exactly expecting a speech from Uicle, and only listened to some of it. He knew the reasons well enough, but that didn't mean he enjoyed them. "This is repetative. Insanity. Year after year we must show these fools our strength, yet we cannot make it clear to them when death is at their door? If we are to save them, we should tell them of the enemy that threatens us all. Not remind them of our powers, which they are well aware of." He didn't accept the idea that this was all just a power play. Mostly because that's just not how Tyrael operated: Boasting and showing off like this meant nothing to him. Success was measured by results, and his war with Kudd should be something shown, not his ability to create portals in the air. He hated the idea of waiting until things became worse before he could do something. He wanted to prevent the worse from happening, not just cowar away and wait.
 
"I still do not see why they need the likes of us. I mean you and I. Even if we are masters, should we not have our students show the fruits of their labor, and let us worry about matters more suiting to our interests? Khan would be more enthusiast then I am." But as Tyrael spoke about "Matters more suiting to our interests", his mind went back to Mar. He made a note that he needed to find a student to send to her room, for company as well as food. He suppose he could go find Leith and have him deliver Lyn to her. That would seem reasonable at least. Though in all honesty, even if Tyrael and Mar don't normally speak, he would rather rest in silence with her then sit in this bustling hall of illusions and lies.
 
Uicle chuckled. "Think of them like idiots, Tyrael. Idiots who don't remember things, and have to be repeatedly shown those things. They need to be reminded how powerful we are, lest they get interested by the idea of owning the Mage College and all our artifacts. We need to make attacking us cost more than gaining whatever we have. They're idiots Tyrael, and idiots don't recognize death's door until it's already claimed them. We have to show a unified front as well. So you and I have to be here, whether we like it or not. Responsibities. They never seem to leave, just change."
 
"We'll just sit here and keep our thoughts to ourselves, Tyrael. And leave the manipulations and subtle politics too the others. People who know how to not beat upon or sarcastically insult the idiots."
 
Tyrael snorted and looked back at his food. Not one to waste he ate it even through he wasn't hungry. He had removed his helmet to do so, and his monsterous vistage was a heavy contrast to his regal armor. After he finished eating he sighed and thought to talk about something else. "When do you think we can leave? If we will leave the talks to others, then I want to know when I can resume my business." That business of course being the continuos war in the Inferno. Even now during the feast were everyone was suppose to be resting, Tyrael could only think about his enemies he's trying to keep from the college. He was starting to feel rather salty that no one seems to be recognizing his efforts, but unlike Uicle, Tyrael doesn't want to see what will happen if he stops fighting.
 
"We can likely leave when the dinner is over. Then we can go back to our individual distractions. You to your war, me to preparing the College as best I can. The Inferno will only be the battleground for so long. Many will be willing to fight, but I find myself wondering how far many will be willing to go. You and I understand that the enemy we face has no qualms about committing any atrocity to win, and that in order to fight against that we must do whatever we need to do to win as well." Uicle's voice became soft, suffused with self-mockery and loathing. 
 
"We are the only monsters in this College, Tyrael. The ex-servant of Aarem and the half demon. Our souls are already stained black with the blood of our enemies, and innocents in my case. We can do the things others won't because we already have. Torture, assassination, sacrifice. That is what this war will involve. Villages will be lost. Innocents destroyed. Nations will burn. We only have to worry about one thing; How much do we let go? How much control do we retain, to keep ourselves better than those we fight? To keep what little remains of our light. We walk a knife's edge, my friend. How far into redemption can we go, and risk not being able to be the monsters the College needs so others don't lose their innocence, their light. How far into the darkness to we tread, and risk becoming the monstrosities we claim to fight against?" Uicle amused himself be manipulating the Dragon Spit into a ball in front of him, then splitting it into two seperate paths. "Think about it Tyrael. The choice may be coming up sooner than you think."
 
Silently  Tyrael mulled over Uicle's words. How ofter has he heard similar  sentiments? More often then Tyrael would admit. Always the necessary  evil. The tainted ones who must do what others cannot. They who have to  take their solemn duty in silence. Essentially the story of Tyrael's  life- "No."
 
For  a moment, Karnage spoke into Tyrael's mind. "That was my life. I  am a monster. So who are you, Tyrael  Marchosias? What have you done." Tyrael looked up at Lidda and  Val's fight, which was going furiosuly, but nearing it's end. "Nothing. Nothing at all. You haven't changed a bit."
 
Tightening  his hands into a fist, Tyrael spoke quietly. "No... I cannot accept  that. I..." Releasing his grip Tyrael tried to get a reign over his  emotions once more. He cannot let Karnage work him up. But all he was  doing was stoking a fire; the burning desire within him was always  there. His hatred, his lust, his despair. These weren't things caused by  any outside force. These were things that were always within Tyrael,  and what he's been surpressing. He wanted to be rid of them. He didn't know how, and in this moment, was desperate enough to turn to Uicle.
  
"I do not want to be a monster. I want more meaning then that. I... I  want a home. A family. But this life I lead... Means nothing. The people I love... Are out of my reach. I fight the evils of the Inferno, but I am not hailed a hero. I am a demon. I sit here alone amongst my contemporaries. All I want in the world will never be mine... It makes me wonder why I fight anymore. I am just a sad memory of things that were, and a constant reminder of things that never will be."
 
Tyrael is never open about his own self-loathing, perfering intimdation and arrogance to be his public image. By making others fear him he gets small satisfaction that his life is at least worthy of fright, but it's nothing that he's proud of. He's worked for the college so long that he doesn't even know what success is. He fights because that's what is expected of him. He want more in his life, but doesn't know how to get it. He's depressed, and wonders just what would happen if he was gone. "What do you think, Uicle? Would the world be better off without me? One less monster in the world after all..."
 
Uicle listened quietly to Tyrael's reply, knowing exactly how the demon felt, before turning to peer up at the Demonomancy master. "Better off without you? Where would you get a ridiculous notion like that?" Genuine surprise and a slight scolding tone echoed out of the Necromancy teacher's helm. "I said we're monsters not that we're evil. Mar would miss you. Lyn would miss you. I would miss you. I can't say Althalus would miss you, but he'd hate to see Mar upset at your death. If you want home, family and relationship, Tyrael, why, it's rather simple. Make them. Change your image. You present yourself like a monster and thus you are a monster. Stop acting like one. Work on repairing and making relationships with the students, making those connections you long for."  The Dragon Spit fell carefully back into it's cup, and Uicle resumed idly stirring it with an armored finger.
 
"I suggest you start simple. Aramir, perhaps, or Alaira. The Snow Elf is terrified of you, I'm afraid and the Wood Elf hates you. Show them they've nothing to fear or hate about you. If you want to start even simpler, chat with Meirein or Ssarak, students who know little about you. Start making relationships, and developing the ones you currently have. That means talking with Mar and Lyn more, and threatening Althalus less. Use violence less. It works for demons, yes, but you're not dealing with demons anymore. Talk to, don't threaten. Empathy, Tyrael, is a useful tool to have and absolutely essential for relationships."
 
Looking down at his hands Tyrael considered Uicle's words. But things were never that simple. "But what about the demons, Uicle? I am Fallen. It is in my nature to be corrupted. These innocent emotions I feel will become cruel and twisted... You know that as well as I do, former servant." Sighing, Tyrael put his helmet back on. A servant came up with a new plate of food but Tyrael waved him away. Hunger was not one of the feelings he had right now. "Change is not easy. Every waking moment I have to fight the urge to give up. I just... Wish this flaw was accepted. So many assume that I can simply stop when I want. But that is my curse. This is my suffering... And like many demons I have become deluded into thinking it's a fate that can be defeated." Slumping into his chair Tyrael was quiet. He knew he wasn't really helping himself. He understood Uicle was trying to encourage him, but frankly it wasn't something tyrael could do on his own. He's been doing it on his own for some generations now. It's has Karnage said: Nothing has changed. 
 
"Even if I try, I cannot accept failure... It is a gamble that risks more then pride. It is gambling on my own weakness. I see so many ways it can go wrong. So many ways."
 
Uicle genuinely laughed this time. He wasn't mocking the half-demon, he simply found the usually straightforward and brash Demonomancy teacher's hesistation amusing.  "I never said anything about change being easy Tyrael! You can't change on your own. Gods above know I didn't. If you want to change Tyrael, truly want to change, you're going to need help. Fight! Fight against your emotions being twisted and corrupted. Fight against your 'nature' as you call it." Uicle looked up briefly as the weaving demonstration began, before returning his attention to Tyrael.
  
"You're a Fallen, not a full demon. That means you still have mortal blood in your veins. You're still more than a demon. Fate can be fought, Tyrael. I spat in the face of the God of Evil, after centuries of serving him. That could have gone so much worse, let me tell you. But it doesn't matter if I succeeded or not. What matters is I tried. I fought against my fate and told them that I would not let anyone or anything decide my path for me. That is what you must do Tyrael. You must fight. You must change. Gather your friends around you and become better than what you are."Uicle watched the Weaving master finish his demonstration, placing his free metal hand on the massive demonmancy teacher's shoulder. "If you ever need me, just call and I will give you my aid. For now, I must dazzle masses with Necromancy."

Uicle stood up in front of the Dining Hall, examining the students ahead of him. "I am Uicle, Necromancy teacher. As you all have no doubt heard rumors of, Necromancy is the art of taking and binding souls to various items. Golems, blades, books, spoons, whatever tickles your fancy. For the purposes of this demonstration, I'll be binding the souls of warriors to these," He gestured behind him as several iron golems moved a dozen suits of armor and removed their helms, displaying for certainty that they were empty. "clearly empty suits of armor. Alas, necromancy isn't as flashy as other magics. This won't be anything special..." Uicle focused for a moment, and one by one the suits of armor began to stir into life. They experimentally twirled and swung their weaponry (Swords, spears, and halberds), moving with obvious experience and a grace one wouldn't expect from suits of empty armor.  "And that's it for me, I'm afraid. I give the floor to my colleague, Craig Gray, master of Noxomancy." 

The first suit of armor felt into a pile of rusted metal and dust before anyone knew what was happening. The suits of armor immediately went on the defensive, looking around in concern. There was a flicker of movement behind another one, and its legs were gone, nothing but rusted metal and dust. As it laid on the ground, thrashing impotently, a hand snaked from the shadows around it, and gently grabbed its chest. From the pale hand's touch, rust spread and destroyed the rest of the body. Another flicker of movement and Craig Gray was standing amongst the remaining suits of armor. For a moment, there was silence. Then they all lunged at the Noxomancy teacher. Craig simply slipped back into the shadows. He appeared as a flicker of movement in the shadows. For a brief moment he would appear behind, beneath, or to the side of the suits of armor. Then they would fall to rust at the tiniest of touches. It was over in a few moments, leaving Craig standing amongst a pile of rusted metal and dust. "That," he said briefly, "is the power of Noxomancy decay and shadow. That is what I will teach you, should you be my student." With that, he sat down again at the table.
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