[Zorolo] Sir Maxwell's Training

[Lord Grudzinski]

It was a bright, sunny day. There were only a few clouds in the sky, and the temperature was quite comfortable, enough to make you want to kick back and relax under a tree.

Sir Maxwell of Lycia didn’t know it though, mostly because the forest blocked out the sun, and it was far too creepy to even think about relaxing.

With a forlorn sigh, the “Green Knight of Lycia” ceased looking up for some notable ray of sunlight to ease his discomfort, and continued down the dirt path before him, half-leading, half-dragging his reluctant brown steed behind him. Every step he took down the road that clearly showed it was not well-traveled, every growl, cry, and generally startling noise he heard, every half-dead, gnarled tree he passed, every time he noted the road seemed to go on forever, he began to think that perhaps taking this shortcut through the Forbidden Woods was not a wise idea.

Brom, his brown warhorse, constantly concurred with his doubts by nervously snorting, and making frequent halts to try to persuade his master to turn back, acting more like a stubborn donkey than a knight’s noble steed. The latest sudden stop sent Sir Maxwell reeling, and then eventually falling flat on his back. As he laid there on the hard ground, the knight had a few glorious moments to feel a rare, small ray of sunlight on his face before Brom’s inner nostrils filled his vision and blocked the warm beam.

With an irritated growl, Sir Maxwell eventually hauled himself up off the ground and grabbed Brom’s snout, pulling him in close. “Listen, I know you don’t like this place. I don’t either, but this is the only way we’ll be able to get to the Fields of Bracaern in time. Any other way will take too long for us to collect our fair share of honor and glory. So we’re going through, whether you like it or not. Got it?”

Now, Brom was an intelligent horse, but you must remember he was just that, a horse. He didn’t understand the details or, really most of the words, but he got the basic idea, ‘Your request to go back is denied.’ Obviously, this did not sit well with Brom, and so he attempted again to turn around and lead his master back out of this dark, spooky forest.

Sir Maxwell was ready this time though, and dug in his heels as he gripped the reins tightly, stopping Brom halfway in his turn. “No! Come on you stupid animal… come on!” he grunted with exertion as he began literally dragging the horse down the road, Brom’s hooves leaving a noticeable trail as he continued to resist.

This went on for about two minutes, Sir Maxwell managing to drag his steed down the road five feet in between the tugs of war Brom would initiate, before the knight fell to his knees panting in exhaustion. Brom, out of loyalty and some mercy, stood over the knight instead of bolting right then and there.

Sir Maxwell soon recovered part of his strength, and eased into a sitting position against a tree next to the road, thinking while his horse remained close to him, still nervous of the surroundings. The Green Knight had remembered that week ago, when he was sitting in that tavern with nothing to do but drink malt beer and listen agonizingly to the stories told by the well-worn travelers that frequented the place, tales of dragons, clashing armies, the rescuing of maidens, the usual. It captivated him each and every time and made him jealous, as he had found nothing in two years of searching.

Then, that day, new rumors had rushed in. Rumors that the nations of Daen and Ostiphea were on the brink of war, a war that would shatter the peace that had resided in Lycia for so long. Naturally, Sir Maxwell demanded to know more, where they’d probably be fighting, and once he learned, he gathered his supplies and set off immediately, collecting information as he went. All of it was more or less the same. War was coming and it was coming soon. The last town he’d been in, he learned that war had just been declared, and the armies were being marched.

It was that news that probably convinced Sir Maxwell to take a shortcut through the Forbidden Woods, a path no one dared take now, what with all the evil rumors circulating about it. Evil monsters that snatched you away at night, spirits of dead soldiers that wandered through the trees and occasionally did battle with their opponents, and of a mysterious figure, hooded, faceless, and mute, those who saw him could count themselves dead.

So far, Sir Maxwell hadn’t seen anything like what was described, though he always heard strange noises, was unnerved by the trees that seemed to look like tormented souls in the fires of hell, writhing in agony, and this inescapable feeling that he was being watched. Sometimes by one being, sometimes by many, but it never went away. No wonder Brom was so frightened… in fact, as he thought about it, Sir Maxwell was afraid too. He didn’t want to be here, in a place where he didn’t know who his enemy was, where he was really going…

With that in mind, he looked up to his steed and said, “You really want to go back do you?” Brom nodded his head as well as a horse could, bringing an amused smile to Sir Maxwell’s lips. “Very well, we’ll take the long way around.”

Pushing himself off the ground, he muttered, “Who knows? Maybe this war will drag in more nations. They always do…” However, as he was preparing to mount his horse, he saw something out of the corner of his eye, and he paused. Slowly, he turned his head over his left shoulder to see a figure. A robed man, or at least a human-shaped being, on the path the knight had been heading down a few minutes earlier.

There was total silence as the two parties regarded one another; Sir Maxwell was paralyzed with fear, which was why he hadn’t drawn his sword immediately. He was fortunate enough, however, to keep his face expressionless as he regarded the stranger seven yards away from him.

The figure was tall, a bit taller than Sir Maxwell, but it had a slightly hunched appearance, as if an illness of some sort tormented it, or perhaps that was just old age, a withered body behind shapeless, plain grey robes and a hood that, combined with the hunch, completely obscured the figure’s face and thus, gender. Despite the figure’s rather pathetic appearance, it was unnerving. Something hinted this stranger was not one to be trifled with... perhaps it was the background; perhaps it was the suddenness of his appearance. Whatever the case, it disturbed Sir Maxwell and made him want to bolt for safety.

Maxwell remained frozen, waiting for the figure to make the first move. And so the stranger did, by turning and beginning to walk away. No, not walk, it seemed as if it was floating away, enhancing the creepiness of it all. Common sense told Sir Maxwell to mount his horse, and go the other way, forget about the figure, and get out of these damned woods. Nevertheless, there was something entrancing about the figure, making Maxwell want to follow him. When he took those first couple of steps, he felt almost no resistance. Clearly, Brom was hit by the same entrancement, though it wasn’t as deeply affecting for him as it was for his master.

The pair followed the mysterious stranger, keeping him in eyesight at all times, until they came on a second path that branched out to the right. This path the stranger followed, Sir Maxwell and Brom not far behind. Down this path, the light seemed to be fading even more, the air was becoming colder and the trees more twisted in shape, but the most unnerving part of all – it was growing quieter.

No longer were there any animal noises to listen to, just the soft rustle of what leaves remained on the branches of the trees, and the footsteps of the three living beings… well, two living beings and one question mark. It was beginning to get so dark that Sir Maxwell risked taking out one of his last remaining torches from his supply pack and lit it while he continued to walk. The stranger in front of him took no notice of the action.

Soon enough, the stranger stopped, and slowly gestured the duo behind him to continue forward. Reluctantly, they did so, and as they neared the silent figure, Sir Maxwell’s jaw dropped.

In front of him was a cave, though by the flickering light of the torch it looked more like a dark maw of some enormous beast. Around the cave was barren, lifeless ground, no trees for exactly five yards around the cave in a half-circle, indicating it was through either magic or work of beings that this arrangement was made. The sky above was now night, and cloudy. Little moonlight made its way to the ground, but the light that did made the cave seem all the more uninviting, disturbing, and indeed, dangerous.

Sir Maxwell turned to his right to face the figure, who continued to face the cave. With a nervous, wavering voice, the knight asked, “Do I go in there?”

Slowly, the figure nodded. To Sir Maxwell, it felt like a death sentence had just been passed on him. "And what will I find in there?" he said, his voice shaking with fear.

As slowly as before, the figure turned to Sir Maxwell, saying nothing, and doing little more. It was, somehow, even creepier than before, when he was farther away. Brom tried to back up, but a death grip on the reins by Sir Maxwell prevented the horse from getting far.

Swallowing, and taking a deep breath, the knight collected himself and said, “Will I find what I’m looking for in there?” gesturing towards the dark maw.

With a pause, the stranger half nodded, half shrugged, clearly saying through body language, ‘Possibly.’

Gritting his teeth, and turning back towards the cave, Sir Maxwell gathered what little courage he had left and took his first step towards the darkness.

By this time, Brom had had enough. Neighing with fear, he reared on his hind legs and tried to flee. It took Sir Maxwell’s fearful death grip and much luck to keep holding on, let alone standing. Shaking his head in desperation, Brom pulled and tugged with all his might, now slowly dragging his master away from the cave that the horse, somehow, through some base animal instinct, knew was bad for himself and his companion.

Then, the stranger appeared suddenly behind the warhorse, and placed its hand on Brom’s haunch. By the light of the torch, Sir Maxwell saw the hand and cried out in shock. The hand was withered and the color was wrong. It was a rotting grey, and it looked cold, clammy, like a corpse's hand. In that brief moment, because of the cry, the stranger looked up, and there was a glimpse of a face that looked dead, dead for thousands of years. There was no visible hair, the skin was stretched completely taut over the skull, and the eyes… or rather, the lack of them, for there were just two holes as dark and gaping as the cave behind the knight.

The hand’s touch drove Brom completely mad with fear, and it bolted for the only place that would get him away from that… thing, that dared touch him, the cave. By luck, Sir Maxwell had been trying to backpedal away from the corpse in robes that faced him, and his foot caught the stirrup as Brom began to gallop for the cave. Sir Maxwell eventually succeeded in mounting his panicking steed, but by then, he had lost his torch, and they were being swallowed by the darkness, the figure behind them shrinking into the distance.

Inside the cave, Sir Maxwell could see absolutely nothing, except when it was only a few feet away from his face. How Brom dodged the various stalactites and stalagmites in his path as he galloped deeper and deeper into the cave in total darkness, Sir Maxwell did not know, but he knew it was incredibly dangerous.

Desperately, he tried to get Brom to stop. He pulled back on the reins, shouted, pleaded, and cursed, but nothing stopped his horse. Brom just had to get away from that thing, that cold, dead thing that wanted the duo to go into this forbidding place. A stalactite almost took Sir Maxwell’s head off as he ducked just in time, then resumed pulling back on the reins with all his might, when Brom suddenly stopped and reared, nearly throwing the knight off his back. Then, the duo began to fall forward.

Wait… not forward, Sir Maxwell realized, down. Brom had apparently stopped too late at the edge of a chasm, and now as the pair tumbled into the pitch black abyss, Sir Maxwell lost sight of Brom, but he could still hear the horse almost scream with terror, with fear of what will happen now. It sounded almost human – he grasped then, that it was because he was screaming, too.

With this realization, he thought he heard the sound of running water, heard a splash and felt the sudden stab of pain, then cold, and he lost all feeling.

Time passed... seconds, minutes, hours? They all seemed like days to the unconscious knight, until Sir Maxwell slowly began to regain his grip on reality. What brought him back into consciousness was the throbbing pain that consumed his body, which was a good thing, for it confirmed to the knight that he was alive.

The first thing that returned was his hearing, and there was the sound of rushing water. Through the pain, he felt more or less solid, rocky ground beneath his back, so he guessed he was probably on a riverbank of some sort. Where was still a mystery, for his eyes remained shut.

Eventually, he opened them, and quickly shut them again, his right arm brought up in an attempt to help block the bright sunlight. That was more good news for Sir Maxwell, as that meant he was out of that God-forsaken cave and those woods… but then, a thought made him open his eyes suddenly again, sunlight be damned. Brom, where was he?

He looked to the left, and saw nothing but a lush riverbank and a mountain range miles in the distance. He looked to the right, and saw a mound of quivering brown flesh. Brom! He reached out and touched the horse’s skin, praying with all his might, and emitted a sigh of relief, as the flesh he touched was warm, and it tensed, but then relaxed. Brom was still alive…

With hope now stirring in the knight’s heart, Sir Maxwell’s strength began to return, though excruciatingly slowly. Turning onto his stomach with much effort, he saw more lush vegetation, a clear blue sky and what seemed to be a city not too far off. Perfect. If he could just stand…

But that took too much effort, and the knight could feel his consciousness fade once more. Weakly looking up through rapidly blurring vision, he saw some sort of figure coming towards him, but too slowly to make it in time… he reached out with his right hand to the approaching figure, silently mouthing, ’Please help us…’, and Sir Maxwell’s consciousness deserted him once more.

[Zorolo]

OoC: Interesting. Good opening post. ^_^ Just one thing: For Maxwell's title, you don't need quotes. That's really all that stands out at the moment to me.

Assignment 1:

A flash of time and Maxwell will awaken inside of the Infirmary of the Dome. There he will be greeted by one of the Dome's staff (but not his teacher) where all questions he asks about the Dome shall be answered. End your post with Sir Maxwell getting up and leaving the infirmary. 500 word minimum.

[Lord Grudzinski]

The sound of feasting and talking filled the ears of Sir Maxwell as he opened his eyes, and found himself in the feasting hall of the Castle of Pharae, his home for so many years. He must’ve gotten back somehow, and the people were throwing this feast for his glorious and miraculous return.

Smiling, he began to walk through the groups of people, who never seemed to acknowledge his presence but talked of his great deeds, acquiring exotic treasures and weapons, defeating evil monsters and saving those in need. One particularly popular tale involved him heroically defeating a creature they called a ‘Lich’. The knight had no idea what that was, nor did he remember how he defeated it, but it must’ve been a powerful, horrifying foe, for it captivated the audiences listening to the story.

Maxwell did not stay long to hear those stories however, for he had to greet all the people he met, and make his way to the head of the table, the place of honor, to enjoy the various dishes set upon the feasting table. Roasted meats, fruits that seemed to glow in the flickering torchlight, jugs and cups filled to the brim with malt beer, this was the biggest feast Maxwell had ever seen, and his mouth watered at each food item he spied.

Soon, he found the chair, but a hooded man already occupied it, a clear breach of etiquette! Such an action was grounds for death, especially at a feast as important as this! Despite the man’s rudeness, Maxwell decided that such a thing would not do. It would ruin the good mood of all there. Further, no one seemed to have noticed the hooded man, so perhaps a few words would alleviate the situation without incident.

As Maxwell neared the man though, he noticed something was wrong. The stifling heat of the room from the roaring fireplaces seemed to disappear, replaced by a cold air that the knight could feel in his very bones. The merry chattering and music died down, as if wax was being stuffed in his ears, and the dim room seemed to become dimmer, the torches failing to drive away the advancing darkness.

Nevertheless, he pressed on, laid his hand on the hooded man’s shoulder, and prepared to speak, when the man looked up, revealing a face fit for a corpse. Maxwell’s planned words turned into a frightened shout as he stepped back quickly; it was the creature from the Forbidden Woods! He reached for his sword, but his hand grasped nothing but air. His sword was gone, and so were the rest of his weapons. Even his armor was missing; replaced instead by a simple, loose shirt and pants. He could not even ask for help from the guests, as they had simply vanished in the now almost pitch black room.

The creature, however, did not have those problems. As the hellish being rose from the chair, it drew a wicked blade that seemed to pulsate with dark energy. It moved around the table and began approaching the rapidly retreating, and panicking, Maxwell, who looked about desperately for a weapon of some sort to use against the creature. A nearby chair was deemed good enough, and the knight heaved the wooden projectile at his foe.

With a swipe of its dark blade, the manster shattered Maxwell’s impromptu weapon, and hastened its advance. While looking for another weapon, Maxwell stumbled over an unseen object on the ground, causing him to fall flat on his back. Before he could recover, the creature was over him, looking down with those two empty holes that replaced its eyes. A wicked, almost sadistic grin was evident as its blade was thrust into the knight’s stomach, causing him a burning, almost unbearable pain.

Maxwell screamed in agony, and suddenly awoke from his nightmare, panting with fear and some exhaustion.

It took a minute for the spooked warrior to recover, head held in his hands, reminiscing on his terrible dream. The cold air, the chair he had thrown, the bite of the creature’s blade, it all felt so real… but as he looked up, he confirmed it wasn’t. He was currently on a soft bed with white sheets, in a well-lit white room with one lantern hanging from the top of a darker shade of white ceiling. The opposite wall boasted a door, made of probably oak, with a bright, golden knob. A small black carpet was at the foot of the door, contrasting with the white floor, which mercifully was the same shade as the ceiling. As for furniture, aside from the bed there was only a simple wooden chair and desk.

While the room emitted a sense of calm and comfort, Maxwell was still very nervous. His armor and weapons were nowhere to be seen, and further, he truly had no idea where he or Brom were. As comfortable as the bed was, he wanted to find his equipment and companion as soon as possible, and figure out where to go from there. Of course, leaving now might not be wise, for as said, he didn’t know where he was, and he could get lost and in trouble fairly quickly…

As he debated the matter, there was a trio of knocks on the door, and there was a muffled voice, from the other side that said, “Have you awoken sir?”

Taken momentarily by surprise, Maxwell said cautiously, “Yes, you may enter.”

Swinging open, the door revealed a small, young boy, probably in his early teens, clad in a white, long-sleeved shirt with white pants and white boots. ’Great. More white…’ Maxwell thought to himself as he observed the boy entering and closing the door. He looked lean, nimble, and energetic, much like a new squire to a knight. His expression was strained, as if he was forcing himself to remain serious and emotionless. Clearly he was new to whatever job he had. “I’m Robert. I’ve been sent to check up on you by the medical staff. How are you feeling?” the youth said without a hint of hesitation.

Maxwell paused, considering this question. He could still feel a light throbbing, but it was nowhere near as bad as he was when he had washed up on that riverbank. “Not bad… considering.”

Robert allowed a genuine smile, and nodded. “That’s good. The doctors said internally and externally that you’re fine, only a bit shaken up and bruised, but I wanted to make sure myself, you were in pretty bad shape when I found you.”

’So that’s who that was…’ Maxwell thought to himself as he recalled the blurred figure he saw before he went unconscious. “I’m in your debt Robert, for bringing me to safety. Now tell me, what is this place?”

Robert’s eyes lit up, and he moved for the chair to sit upon. “I’m glad you asked! This is the Dome. It is an academy for all who enter and wish for learning, be they scholars, mages, warriors, and even normal people. You’re currently in the Infirmary, 1,989th room to be precise.”

Maxwell’s eyebrows shot up. At least 2,000 rooms? That was a massive infirmary… his interest was also increased by the mentioning of ’warriors’. If he could further hone his skills here in this place… the Dome, he could become a far better warrior when he got back to Lycia. That made him realize something.

“Wait, why haven’t I heard of the Dome? I’ve poured through every map I could get my hands on for two years during my travels, and I never recalled finding it…”

Robert screwed up his face in concentration, as if trying to remember something he was told, then said, “Well, you’ll never find the Dome on any maps anywhere. It’s… inter-dimensional or something… basically, it can be reached from any place in the world, or any world… if you know where to look that is, or you accidentally stumble on it, like you have apparently.”

Maxwell did not fully understand the explanation, and was noticeably a bit skeptical, but he decided to ask a pressing question in the back of his mind. “I see… so where’s my horse, Brom? Knowing where my armor and weapons are would be good as well…”

“Your horse is in the stables, He’s fine, don’t worry.” Robert quickly added, noting Maxwell’s concerned face. “He, like you, suffered no major injuries. Only got a bit banged up. As for your equipment, it’s in the closet over there.”

Maxwell followed Robert’s pointing finger to a door the knight never noticed before. It was smaller, painted white like the walls, and had a smaller brass knob. ’These people are really overdoing it with the white…’

Turning back to Robert, Maxwell nodded. “I thank you for answering my questions, now if you’ll pardon me…” swinging his legs to the side of the bed, the knight stood, revealing he was clad only in undershorts, “I must check up on Brom. Can you tell me where the stables are?”

As he moved for the closet door and opened it, confirming Robert’s claims, he heard the young teen chuckle and say, “I could, but perhaps it’d be better if you find out for yourself. May impress your future teacher…”

Cocking an eyebrow in puzzlement, Maxwell turned asking, “What do you mean by-“ he stopped in mid-sentence for Robert had suddenly disappeared.

Surprised and with renewed suspicion, the knight looked about the room and at the single door, but there was nothing. The door looked undisturbed, and there seemed to be no other ways out… “Alright then… vanish. See if I care…” Maxwell muttered as he turned back to the closet slowly, still expecting Robert to jump back into vision again without warning.

No further incident occurred as Maxwell pulled on his clothes and mail, refastened his armor, sheathed his sword, fit his shield on his back, grabbed his war lance with one hand, and tucked his helm under the other arm. Looking at the mirror on the inside of the closet door, the knight nodded in approval, and turned to the door, opening it and making his way out of the Infirmary.

His destination, the stables, was clear, but the directions to said stable, were not as clear. It was apparent this was going to take awhile…

[Zorolo]

Good post. Now then, new assignment time. ^_^

Assignment 2:

Sir Maxwell will leave the infirmary and go on a hunt for his friend, Brom the horse, as I'm sure you know, but, during his search, Brom will call out to him. The sounds of neighing will fill the halls of the Dome and call Maxwell towards his associate. End your post with Maxwell winding up in a massive stable thats covered in horse dung. Word minimum: 600

[Lord Grudzinski]

“Excuse me! Old woman!” Sir Maxwell called out to the hunched figure, walking a few feet in front of the knight.

“Man!” The figure called back.

“Man! Sorry! Could you spare a moment of your time old man?”

“I’m thirty-seven!” came the indignant reply of the man, now looking over his shoulder awkwardly and revealing his face quite unwrinkled.

“What?”

“I’m thirty-seven, I’m not old!”

“My humblest apologies, sir! It’s just your hunched appearance led me to believe-“

Interrupting the slightly confused warrior, the man turned to reveal he was carrying a box filled with enormous, black-shelled eggs. “I’m carrying a box of dragon eggs, what do you expect me to do? Carry them with my spine straight and shoulders back? I’ll fall on my back and crush myself if I do!”

Rubbing the back of his head nervously, Max tried again, “Good sir, I do apologize for my actions! I just wanted to know… wait… you’re carrying what?”

With a growl, the man declared, “Bah! I don’t have time for this nonsense! I’ve got a quota to meet… begone!”

“Hey wait! I just need directions to the stables! Wait! Ah damn it all…” Maxwell cursed as he gave up his half-hearted pursuit of the egg-carrying man, looking around desperately for another passerby to acquire information.

For five minutes now, Maxwell had been wandering the halls of the Dome, completely and undeniably lost. What few signs and maps that had been put up never seemed to make sense to the knight, and the people he met were either too busy, or gave directions so complicated and confusing that mere seconds after they gave them, Maxwell forgot it all. Really, all he wanted to do was find his horse, then figure out where to go from there, was that too much to ask? No, but the folk he met seemed to disagree.

Sighing in exhaustion, the green warrior found an unoccupied bench to sit upon and think about what to do next. Not to mention all the odd things he had discovered while he was searching.

For one, most of the people he met were dressed in queer ways, carried even stranger objects, and more often than not, they spoke in odd tongues that seemed nothing more than babble to the confused knight. One man was completely encased in black metal and wielded a sword of red light, and his voice was inhuman, it scared Maxwell out of his wits. Another, a beautiful woman clothed in a simple white toga, kept claiming that Maxwell was looking at her indecently. Of course, it was hard not to, considering the way she was dressed, but the warrior could swear anything he did wrong was completely unintentional. That logic was met with a literal slap to the face, and threats to do more than that if he didn’t turn around and walk the other way immediately. Then there was that talking lion… he seemed nice enough and willing to give directions, but there was something about the animal that made Maxwell suspicious. Perhaps it was because he overheard the lion talking earlier about how hungry he was…

Whatever the case, he was making little to no progress towards the stables, and it didn’t seem like he would any time soon. “Well, I suppose I’ll just wander around… it’s how I landed here in the first place…” Maxwell muttered as he stood, and began doing just that.

Ten minutes later, the green knight decided he was being a complete idiot, because now he managed to find himself even more lost than he was before. Further, he was beginning to get a few suspicious looks, as it was rather obvious he had no idea where he was going.

“Bah! This is hopeless! I might as well start calling out his name, seeing as everything else I’ve done doesn’t work… BROM! Brom, where are you?! Brom!” Even this didn’t seem to work, his voice echoing down the halls in all directions, except perhaps earn him more stares. Letting out a cry of frustration, Maxwell sunk to his knees in the middle of a rapidly clearing hall, as the people were now purposely avoiding the strange knight who not only looked completely lost, but called out for a being no one knew, and no one cared to find out about.

“Damn this place… and damn these people who refuse to help me…” Maxwell muttered under his breath as he tried to restrain himself from collapsing into total despair.

Just then, he thought he heard a familiar sound, and he looked up with hope, but the sound faded away, and he could hear nothing more except the distant bustle and chatter of the other people. He could’ve sworn though… and there it was again! This time he was sure what it was. It was neighing, and if he didn’t know better, it sounded like the neigh of a very familiar companion.

“Brom!” he exclaimed as he got up quickly, looking around him frantically for the correct hallway, and made his best guess as he chose one, rushing down it with all the speed he could muster. Weaving through crowds of people, he shoved those who he couldn’t dodge quickly enough aside as he made his way towards the source of Brom’s neighing, which was definitely getting louder and clearer. There was also a rich, pungent scent that strengthened along with the sound, and it was a very familiar scent to Maxwell, the scent of horse dung.

Finally, he made it to a large doorway, with two wooden doors painted bright red and a sign above that said in clear letters, The Stables. He made it! Grabbing one of the massive door handles, he tugged with all his might, and slowly but surely, the door creaked open enough for Maxwell to slip inside.

Immediately after he entered, he staggered back out into the halls, a hand over his nose and mouth. “Good gods! It stinks in there!”

Indeed it did. The smell of horse poo was quite overwhelming; mostly because the floor was completely covered with dung, some fresh, others several days old. The knight couldn’t quite tell what was inside, though he knew Brom was in there, somewhere. The only problem now was getting to him without stepping in, or the gods forbid, slip in the carpet of manure.

“Damn it all! I just polished this armor too!”

[Zorolo]

OoC: Interesting post. ^_^

BiC: "So, you must be Maxwell," a voice stated as a figure floated above the floor with a mask over his face to filter out bad air from good. "Well, we must make haste. These are, after all, the Aegean Stables. If history serves us right... well, just grab your horse and let's start moving," Monroe stated as he grabbed a black horse's reins and sat upon the saddle. "Let's go, before this place is flooded," the bounty hunter said as he saw water rushing towards the stables. "Like... NOW!" Monroe yelled as his horse started moving.

OoC:

Assignment Time:

The Aegean stables are being flooded, and now it is time to get the hell out of there. Monroe's already taken a horse and is moving out, so it's time for Brom and Maxwell to try to catch up. Monroe, being the ultra competitive person he is will be trying to keep ahead of Maxwell the whole time. End your post with both men and their horses entering a suddenly appearing door as they are about to be swept away by the water.

[Lord Grudzinski]

“Flooded? Wha–oh…” Sir Maxwell muttered as he turned and saw the water, already at a disturbing waist-height, rushing towards the stable doors. For one second, the knight stared dumbfounded, before he regained feeling in his legs and ran inside the poo-carpeted stables after the mysterious masked man.

Two steps in, and Maxwell started sliding down a hallway, desperately trying to keep his balance. With the knowledge that the water was right on his heels, and that falling would mean certain drowning, the only good thing Maxwell could find in his predicament was that he was rapidly nearing Brom, as his noise-making was getting louder.

Suddenly, he saw a wooden pillar approaching in the middle of a four-way intersection of hallways. Without thinking, Maxwell stuck out his right hand, received the pillar in his arm, and managed to swiftly turn down the hallway to his right before the automatic metal doors slammed shut on both branching hallways, blocking the rushing water from going down those passages.

That rather clever move, however, wasn’t the intent of the knight; he was trying to stop his increasingly dangerous sliding about on the dung-covered floor, and his move actually made him increase in speed. Desperately, he groped for a handhold of some sort on the rapidly passing wooden doors to his left, but with little success. He was going too fast to anticipate where a potential handhold would be.

Without warning, his hand finally found a handle, and he gripped it tightly, coming to an abrupt stop that almost dislocated his arm, but fortunately just provoked a burst of blinding pain. Still Maxwell hung on, now with his right hand, to keep himself from falling into the brown sludge below, as he tried to recover.

Then, he heard Brom’s neighing again, but this time it was coming from behind the door he held onto. “Brom?! Brom, is that you?!” he asked, relieved to hear an affirmative snort from his steed on the other side. “Thank the gods… I’m going to get you out of here, the stables are being flooded, and we have little time!” Finally regaining his balance, Maxwell spied a large, single bolt latch. ’Perfect…’ he thought as he made his way to the latch to set Brom free, and pulled up.

The latch didn’t budge. A confused Maxwell more closely inspected the latch, and found it crusted with dung. “Oh come on!” he screamed as he began fiercely tugging at the latch, to little success.

Loudly cursing his luck as he pulled, he heard the very faint, but notable, creak of iron doors opening and water rushing through them. The sound was coming from the intersection behind Max, clearly indicating he had very little time left. Seized with a newfound determination, fueled by utter desperation, the knight made one final tug; grunting with effort as the latch finally budged, wiggled, and then broke free from the crusted poo. Without missing a beat, Maxwell slid the latch open, and made for the handle to open the door.

The doors flew wide open before the knight’s hand could touch the handle, and he struggled to keep his balance as Brom charged through the doors he kicked open, pausing long enough for Maxwell to clumsily mount his steed before galloping away down the hallway, the water only seconds behind the reunited pair.

Not daring to look back, Maxwell grabbed the reins of his horse and attempted to reassert control, but Brom made no response to his master’s tugs and verbal commands as he made a left turn at the junction ahead. The horse seemed to know exactly where he was going, and that was fine and all, considering what was behind the pair, but the knight couldn’t help but be annoyed. He was the one supposed to be in control here…

Then, after another turn down a hallway, there was the mysterious man and his steed up ahead, increasing in visibility as the distance between them decreased. The man turned and regarded Maxwell and Brom, then turned back to the path up ahead, his horse beginning to pull further and further ahead.

“What the… what the devil is he doing-gah!” the knight cried in surprise as Brom, instead of following Monroe down the path, took a sudden right turn. “Where are you going?! He went that way!”

Max’s protests were either drowned out by the rushing air, and water behind them, or ignored by Brom as he concentrated on the path ahead, unyielding to Maxwell’s renewed determination to retake control of this nonsense through pulling of the reins, orders, and even curses.

The path then began to curve left, back onto the main path, and there was no masked man ahead. For a second Maxwell thought he had pulled much farther ahead, but a glance behind him told the knight that, in fact, his horse had found a shortcut, and they were now ahead. While masked man’s face couldn’t be seen, Max could tell that Monroe was annoyed, and began urging his horse to catch up.

’He thinks it’s a race…’ was the incredulous thought that popped into the knight’s head before another abrupt turn by Brom jerked him back into reality. Down one path, back onto another, Monroe soon caught up and was now neck and neck with Maxwell, the water behind both men and their steeds a handful of seconds behind them.

Back on the main path, Brom was beginning to tire, the horse’s breathing was becoming more labored and irregular, and now Maxwell could feel droplets of the torrent behind him. Looking to his right, Maxwell was stunned that Monroe had no trace of fear in his eyes. Matter of fact, it looked as though he was having the time of his life.

The path suddenly sloped downward, almost bringing an exhausted Brom off balance, but still the steed galloped on, oblivious to his own failing strength. Maxwell leaned forward, gripped the reins tightly, and prayed for divine intervention, as it seemed nothing could bring salvation to the duo of pairs now…

A leveling out of the path prompted him to open his eyes, and for the briefest of moments, Maxwell saw a simple doorway, barely big enough for the two horses and their riders to dart through, the rushing water now only inches behind consuming his hearing, before the darkness beyond took his sight as well.

[Zorolo]

Good, now then, assignment time. ^_^

Assignment Time:

Well, the black clad man has vanished, but in his place remains a note. It tells Maxwell to find this man and telling him to meet him in the Dark Wing of the Dome. Maxwell begins searching for the said wing. However, he will be side-tracked by a leprechaun, who will dance around and tease your character into following it to a room. This room is a luscious green prairie, complete with clovers and rainbow. Chase the leprechaun into the meadow. You will eventually lose him, but what you will find is valuable to your character. You can have it be whatever you want, an item, person, jewel, gold, WHATEVER! When they find the object, the room will disappear. Keep in mind that this is the Leprechaun’s Meadow, so no magic can be used, and many traps will be lurking in the tall grass. Luck to ya (no pun intended)! Minimum 900 words.