A/N: Dear SmurfKiller (and everyone who has reviewed this story, but most particularly SmurfKiller for raising the most good points)

First of all, thanks for being the cool kind of reviewer who follows a story and offers lots of constructive criticism. Now, you say that I only give very brief details of the thought processes of the Forsaken. This is true, but really, I wouldn't be able to write the story that explains the exact circumstances surrounding each Forsaken's turn to the Shadow. Blame it on a quirk of the imagination, but I seem to be able to visualise everything passively much better than I can actively. You'll notice that there's been next to no dialogue in the entire story, and I intend to keep it that way. It's about thoughts over actions, a snapshot of that person's mental state during that time period, if you like. It'd probably stay that way even if I wanted to change it.

(And incidentally, while the Balthamel chapter took several days and had me poring over every word. for this one I thought about it in the back of my mind while doing other stuff for a couple of weeks and then sat down and typed it out in less than an hour. So I guess these things just work differently. Or maybe I'm more like Be'lal than I know.)

Keep on killing Smurfs.

Peace Out,

Asmo.

P.S. I know a number of people have asked if these really are the real names of the Forsaken. Well, I suck t making up names and I'm a stickler for detail, so yes they are. They're all mentioned in The World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time (where the 'Forsaken' quotes are plagiaris- I mean, borrowed from), various places in the main books, and any reputable WoT/Forsaken fansite.

BE'LAL

A tall, athletic man with close-cropped silver hair, Be'lal combined and surpassed the strengths of both Rahvin and Sammael, being both a patient and cunning planner and a capable fighter willing to do battle directly with the foe.

- excerpt from 'The Forsaken'

In the arena, dozens of swords clattered against one another, over and over. Most of them were wooden, although a few men were using real swords, those who were more daring and willing to risk what they had. And the best, too, the ones confident enough in their abilities to avoid injury. Few of them would have been able to express exactly why they came nearly every day to practice their swordsmanship, and most of them were old enough to remember a time when no one had raised a weapon against another with the intention of doing harm. They all knew those days were over now, though, and they all knew a time would soon come when these new skills would be vitally important.

Some of the men in the arena were in awe of Duram Laddel Cham. He had already proved himself one of the most capable fighters in the world, developing a style that complemented his peripheral vision and tactical mindset perfectly, and he remained undefeated. He himself paid little attention to such things. He knew what he wanted, and how he was to achieve it.

Of course, he took great pleasure in demonstrating to the simpletons around him how much better he really was. Their skill could never match up to his. Duram Laddel enjoyed surrounding himself with people like that, people who he could feel superior to. It was encountering people who had more than he did that he couldn't stand, and avoided at all costs.

Take Lews Therin, now. The man was his friend, and had been for years now, but recently Duram Laddel had been feeling oddly… distant from him. He had never really understood him, honestly. The man was far too willing to give up what he wanted for the benefit of others, and that puzzled him. Not that Duram Laddel was selfish, just… sensible. The way the world was going, a man had to look out for his own interests.

Personally, he had never understood why Lews Therin had ever left Mierin in the first place. Not that there was anything wrong with Ilyena, but Mierin was stunning, and she was obsessed with the man. Of course, now the poor woman was insensible since the accident, but to Duram Laddel it seemed like the first in a long line of mistakes Lews Therin had made. He just couldn't understand what was wrong with him.

After all, even Lews Therin would probably admit that Duram Laddel was his superior with the blade, and he had the most cunning tactical mind under the Light, even if he did say so himself. And yet, the people looked up to Lews Therin as the First Among the Servants, as a leader, and saw Duram Laddel as nothing more than a second in command. It was even more maddening than the way they treated this Elan Morin Tedronai. This man, a philosopher, a man who likely didn't know one end of a sword from the other, was supposed to be the terrifying leader of the forces of Shadow people were already naming Ishamael, the Betrayer of Hope? Yes, he may have been strong in the Power, and so was Lews Therin. But Duram Laddel knew that wasn't real fighting. The only true battle was fought between two men using nothing but their weapons and their wits, not fancy tricks. And that made him the greatest of them all.

Really, it was dangerous to their chances of victory to put incompetent people in charge of troops. Duram Laddel remembered well the time he had beaten Lews Therin in a game of stones, proof enough as far as he was concerned of his tactical superiority. But no one else seemed to see it that way. No one ever listened. It wasn't right.

Well, they had their names for him as well. One in particular had always struck a chord with him, given to him by Lews Therin: the Netweaver. "I can always rely on Duram Laddel to make plans that won't come unravelled," he used to joke, and they would both laugh. Pretty soon the nickname had caught on. That was one thing the man had given him, he supposed. But Duram Laddel had to do something. Not just for himself, this time, but for everyone.

Because, no matter how hard he looked at their friendship, he simply couldn't put faith in Lews Therin as a leader. In fact, their friendship just made it harder for him to do so; everyone knew of Lews Therin's strengths, but only someone like Duram Laddel thought about the man's weaknesses. And he had many, his arrogance, his unwillingness to change a plan after it had been put into execution, his lack of real fighting ability, his overpowering attachment to his wife and family, the list went on and on. They needed someone stronger to lead the forces of the Light, or else defeat was almost certain. And Duram Laddel could think of no one better to do the job than himself.

Deep down, though, he knew that it wasn't just about that. He listened to people; it was difficult to be the kind of shrewd manipulator he was known as being without keeping eyes and ears open at all times. He heard the way people spoke, the things people said about Lews Therin Telamon and Mierin Eronaile and Elan Morin Tedronai and Ilyena Moerelle Dalisar and even Barid Bel Medar. One name that didn't seem to be on anybody's lips, however, was Duram Laddel Cham. Well, that would have to change.

Someday soon, when the opportunity arose, he would seize the power that was due to him. He wanted it all, and he would have it all, that much was certain. And then, when he achieved what he wanted, then the people would be talking about him. He would be remembered then. And the people would remember and tell the story of Duram Laddel Cham for thousands of years.

That Be'lal was good at what he did is proven by the honorific third name, but not by any other source. He is the Forsaken about whom the least is known.

- excerpt from 'The Forsaken'