Down a long corridor lit with oil lamps on stone covered walls there was a heavy metal door reinforced with large steel rivets and iron bars. The consequences of time were painted over the face of the door in splotches of rust. A heavy chain was broken in twain, the broken link still on the floor. The door was forced to open because the door was never intended to be opened not that the instructor inside knew that nor would the students that were to meet her there. It was an unfortunate mistake, a wrong number written on the ledger she received that directed her to this locked "classroom." The chain was broken by the intruding woman, perhaps someone with the gift of sight would have realized that there was a warning over the top of the doorframe that read: DO NOT ENTER[/b].
The room was spacious, in fact it was quite impressive considering the time and care that would have been involved in the creation of this splendid space. The walls had runic symbols burned into them, each and every stone had a brilliant glow - some crackled with electricity while others had a searing hot glow, some seemed to howl softly while still others seemed cool. This room was once a library. Tall bookshelves made of wood, a rather rare commodity considering the underground desert village they lived in, created several aisles in the room. Most of the shelves were over twenty feet in height and although dust and cobwebs littered the disused space it was apparent that many of the books were astonishingly well preserved. All of the books were quite old, some appeared to be well-read with broken and worn spines while others seemed almost new. Most of the books had a strange language written along the binding. In the back of the room there was a large sign: حوليات الغازي<i></i>, the words were meaningless to the Medic even if she was able to see the great sign hanging over a second door.
She let out a sigh as she found a seat at one of the tables. This was an unusual classroom most certainly. Often there were rows of chairs and perhaps a blackboard and a teacher's desk. She had no special desk. There were no neat little rows of chairs and desks for the students, only a few overturned tables and three-legged chairs. There was also no space for them to run about, how was she supposed to teach them about combat without a practical space to do so in. The room smelled like old men, less the pungent smell of urine. She pushed a few books that lay in front of her on the dust-covered table she sat by. It released a cloud of dander and cobweb into the air, she sneezed. "Mother Suna, this place is nasty."<i></i> she muttered.
The room was spacious, in fact it was quite impressive considering the time and care that would have been involved in the creation of this splendid space. The walls had runic symbols burned into them, each and every stone had a brilliant glow - some crackled with electricity while others had a searing hot glow, some seemed to howl softly while still others seemed cool. This room was once a library. Tall bookshelves made of wood, a rather rare commodity considering the underground desert village they lived in, created several aisles in the room. Most of the shelves were over twenty feet in height and although dust and cobwebs littered the disused space it was apparent that many of the books were astonishingly well preserved. All of the books were quite old, some appeared to be well-read with broken and worn spines while others seemed almost new. Most of the books had a strange language written along the binding. In the back of the room there was a large sign: حوليات الغازي<i></i>, the words were meaningless to the Medic even if she was able to see the great sign hanging over a second door.
She let out a sigh as she found a seat at one of the tables. This was an unusual classroom most certainly. Often there were rows of chairs and perhaps a blackboard and a teacher's desk. She had no special desk. There were no neat little rows of chairs and desks for the students, only a few overturned tables and three-legged chairs. There was also no space for them to run about, how was she supposed to teach them about combat without a practical space to do so in. The room smelled like old men, less the pungent smell of urine. She pushed a few books that lay in front of her on the dust-covered table she sat by. It released a cloud of dander and cobweb into the air, she sneezed. "Mother Suna, this place is nasty."<i></i> she muttered.
Translation: Annals of the Conqueror
