Okay, here, after a long, long time, is chapter 3. I've been re-reading this story and I realize that it's written very clumsily; my apologies for that, I'm trying to improve. Thanks to everyone and anyone who's reading and reviewing!

WhenNym woke up, he felt sore and battered. It took him a few moments to remember what had happened. He sighed and forced himself to climb out of bed.

Across the hall, the weapon master was running a fairly advanced kata. Nym watched Belgos for a few moments, partially because he wasn't sure what to say and partially because he wanted to see what he was doing wrong when he ran that kata.

Finally he said, "Master Belgos?"

The weapon master carefully sheathed his swords and walked over to Nym. "Yes?" He looked very serious about something.

"Am I going? Did I do okay?"

"Yes." said the weapon master again.

Nym stood up, ignoring the protests of his bruises. He reached under his bed for his swords, but they were not there. He blinked and spun around to the master.

"Where are they?" he demanded, slightly unsettled. Belgos had taught him to always have your weapons with you. Besides, they made him feel safer.

"There are no weapons allowed in the Academy." said the master. He looked at Nym, he seemed almost sad. He cleared his throat and said quickly, "Study hard, fight hard. Don't forget what I've taught you. Honor the Goddess." He fixed his student with a hard, penetrating glare and Nym felt the same way he had when he first met the master. Belgos then turned and purposefully walked away into his chambers. The door shut behind him and Nym stared at it, surprised.

"Did I make him mad?" he muttered to himself.

The weapon master leaned against the door, privately bidding farewell to his student. He prayed to his uncaring, unlistening Goddess that the boy would be safe.

Nym neatly packed his clothes and other neccesary items into a small bag. He felt terribly empty without his swords, but there was nothing he could do about it. He sighed heavily, got up and left the gym.

His sister was waiting for him outside. He opened the door, stepped out and when he closed the door behind him, there she was. He flinched and quickly bowed, stepping back unconsciously.

"Greetings, sister." he said in his most respectful tone. He had not seen her (she was the second oldest) in quite a while.

"Greetings, brother." she returned, mocking him slightly. "Get moving. I'm supposed to take you to Melee Magthere."

Nym had never been outside his house before, and when he left the large iron gate, he could only gape in awe at the dark, glorius beauty that surrounded him. Countless other houses stood menacingly, reaching up to the incredibly high ceiling. His sister rolled her eyes at him, grabbed the thin chain he wore around his neck and jerked it viciously. He snapped out of his trance and with a mumbled apology, followed her down the wide, crowded streets to the Academy.

When they arrived at Tier Breche, his sister pointed out the pyramid shaped fighter's school, informed him that if he did anything to disgrace his house she would beat him to a pulp and left.

Once inside Melee Magthere, he and the other first year students were herded into a large hall. There they stood and listened tothe Master of Loretalk incessantly. This was not exactly his idea of training to be a drow warrior, but he kept his mouth shut and attempted to listen.

Nym quickly adapted to the routine of the Academy. However, this did not mean he liked it. The discipline was strict, the students were put to work whenever they were not in class, and he rarely got a chance to practice swordfighting. Nonetheless, something happened there that would change the course of his life.

Nalfein was a thin, almost scrawny boy. His eyes were not the intense scarlet of his fellows, but rather a faded, watery pink. His mannerisms were incredibly unnerving, he would stand almost perfectly still, not doing anything, simply carefully watching everybody, listening to every sound. Dark elves are not the most friendly of races, but Nalfein was quickly marked an outcast.

On the third day of classes, Nym had taken advantage of a rare free period to go back to the dormitory and get something. Approaching the door, he noticed light coming from inside. Against his better judgement, he opened the door and was promptly hit in the eyes by the harsh light of a single candle. Squinting through the glare, he made out Nalfein, sitting in his usual quiet way on the edge of his bed. He was holding a piece of parchment in his hand, reading it by the light of the candle.

Upon Nym's entry, the other boy glanced up sharply. Seeing his classmate's discomfort, he blew out the candle. Then he sat back, folding the piece of paper in his lap, and looked solemnly at Nym.

Nym stared at him for a few minutes. "Uh...what's going on?" he asked lamely, after the aforementioned few minutes had passed without a word being extracted from the strange boy.

"I was reading a letter." Nalfein said quietly. He regarded Nym with his disorienting, pale eyes.
"Are you going to tell?"

Nym was not sure that reading letters was forbidden. Nonetheless, he answered, still confused, "No. I won't tell." He and Nalfein looked at each other for another few minutes.

"It's not a normal letter, y'know." said the stick-thin boy.

"Uh..I didn't know." said Nym. Nalfein did not reply, so he added. "How is it not a normal letter?"

Nalfein bit his lip, an oddly...emotional action for this particular drow. He beckoned Nym over then and Nym, curious, came. He sat down beside Nalfein and waited while the other drow carefully relit the candle. A flash of pain shot through his head with the light, but his eyes slowly adjusted and he focused on the letter in Nalfein's hands.

"To our dear soon-to-be-acolyte,"

"We welcome you to the Order of Vhaerun."