[Gracie] Kellson's Training

I deliver.

IC:

With a start, he woke up, eyes staring at the dark ceiling, out of the nightmare and into reality, out of the cave and into the Dome. Back again.

He was back. Back to the Dome, with its mostly friendly atmosphere. Back to safety, for the time being, because he knew that he would be right back in the line of fire when he went out of the Dome and back to being a regicide. Back to his warm room, walls decorated with weaponry, everything bathed in soft gold candlelight.

…How utterly sickening.

Kellson scowled and swung his legs off the bed, picking up a box of matches. Moodily, he scratched it on the wall, lit a candle, and tossed the matches back on the oaken table. God, he hated it. He could deal with a few days and nights of respite before doing something productive, but this was bloody awful. He hadn’t been contacted at all by his teacher, Cadenza Madrigal, ever since they had returned from the North a week ago, so he had had no choice but to sit around in the library and read, or go watch fights. Kellson wondered vaguely if something had happened to his teacher. Not that it mattered, of course, but it was something to think about.

He glanced at the foot of the bed. His hedgehog, Norman, dozed peacefully, even emitting quiet snores. No doubt, Kellson thought, he was dreaming about hog-like things. Women hogs. Who knew?

Sighing, he got out of the bed and picked up his amulet. It glittered forlornly in the light of the lone candle, as if to ask why it hadn’t been worn. Sleep is a necessity for others, but I can relieve you permanently, it said in a breathy pseudo voice. I can heal you!

“Not from my own mind,” Kellson said, then snorted. If anyone had been in here, he’d have looked like a complete fool. Only the richest eccentrics talked to jewelry that surely did not talk back. He gave in and dropped it over his head, letting the cold gold back bounce and come to rest on his chest. The dullness that came after long hours of sleep was replaced by crisp freshness…much better.

He dropped to the ground and started doing pushups. It grew monotonous after a while—if you never got tired, you could theoretically do this for eternity. He paused without thinking and picked up his iPod, flicking it on, and resumed the exercise.

The nightmares kept coming back, and they would never leave unless he didn’t sleep. Well, the problem seemed simple. Just wear the amulet, and you’ll never need rest again. Kellson snorted again. That would definitely work: multiply the deathly boredom times two. There’s even less to do at night.

Settling into the rhythm of the music, he sunk and rose, sunk and rose in time with the beat. Something had better happen soon, or he’d go crazy.

He did pushups all through the night.

1st Assignment

“I’m not taking him.”

“Arios, you don’t have a choice. I’m taking Cadenza’s other student, Ethan has taken the majority of students that have come our way, and so it leaves Kellson with you.”

“Can’t I take Jhans? He’s…not angelic, is he?”

“That’s not the point, Arios. Gwen’s angelic, and you seem to put up with her.”

“She’s one of my watchers, she’s there if I want her to be or not. I despise anything remotely resembling angels.”

Rolling his eyes at the demonic beings intolerance to the servants of God, Drakon simply stalked away. In mere moments, the fog that lingered in the room swallowed him up.

You know he’s just a human with wings. Get over it.

Grumbling at the draconic being, Arios disappeared into the demon realm so he could mope about in silence.

OOC: There will be a knock at Kellson’s room, and when he answers it, a Domerii will answer it. If you don’t know already, a Domerii is a whitish transparent blob. It will spit out a letter to Kellson, striking him squarely in the face will a small ball of ooze, in which the letter is contained. Once he cleans himself off and reads the letter, he’ll discover that he is no longer under Cadenza’s teaching, and has been transferred to Arios. The letter will not give any other information about Arios, other than his actual name. The letter will also state that Kellson is to meet his new teacher in a place called the Daimona Room, which can be reached by calling out the name to summon a portal there. End the post with Kellson walking through the portal, and falling face first into a giant pool of blood.

400 word minimum.

A knock at the door caused him to pause mid-drop. Maybe it was Cadenza. He flipped upright, striding to the door and opening it cautiously. Old habits died hard.

“Yeah?” he said, poking his head out of the doorway. No one was there. “Hello?”

“Below you,” said a voice. Kellson peered down. Some sort of white blobbish thing was sitting there, blinking at him. Upon further examination, it seemed to be an overweight Domerii.

“Oh,” he said. “What?”

The Domerii’s possible equator contorted, and then fired a sphere of goo at Kellson’s face. The self-proclaimed demi-angel’s hand shot up and blasted part of it away with a discharge of holy energy, but a small portion still managed to get him in the forehead. A sticky piece of paper fell into his hand.

“Message for you,” said the Domerii evenly. Kellson wiped his face off on his sleeve and glared at it. As it turned to leave, he booted it into the air with an irritated kick, closing the door to block out the squeals as it hit the wall with a squelch.

“Moron,” he muttered, opening the letter. He had never liked those freaky blob things anyways, and it appeared that the Domerii felt the same way. What the hell was that goop? Semen? Gross.

Kellson-
Your teacher, Cadenza Madrigal, is unable to continue tutoring you. Henceforth, you will be taught by Master Arios. Please meet him immediately in the Daimona Room. To enter this room, simply speak its name aloud.

Cadenza wouldn’t be teaching him anymore. That was interesting. Maybe she had been fired, or didn’t want to teach. Kellson shrugged and pocketed the letter, shrugged on his trenchcoat, and buckled on his short sword, knives, and crossbow, slinging the bolt pouch over his shoulder. Whatever the reason, he thought, slightly pleased, this teacher will be better than she was.

“I hope,” he added aloud, fitting a burnished set of brass knuckles across his hand and, as a finishing touch, delicately placing a crucifix around his neck. “The Daimona Room.”

Immediately, he felt himself being sucked upwards. He didn’t resist, but let the invisible force pull him. There were three seconds of frosty blackness, and then his feet slammed into the ground unevenly. Losing his balance, he slipped on a wet substance and fell face first into the ground. He flung out an arm to catch himself, and it was for that reason that he didn’t get a face full of crimson—the ground was a giant puddle of blood.

“Oh, that’s lovely.”

OOC: That's like 420 words, if you're curious. It'd be longer, but I'm gonna go eat.

Very good DoK.

2nd Assignment

IC:

“Oh, that’s lovely.”

Even from the safety of the demon realm, Arios still felt the need to shiver. The angel’s, or whatever he was supposed to be aura showed up in the demon realm as a foggy white. The worst kind of aura any demonic being feared.

“‘It’s just a human with wings, get over it.’ I’d like to see you teach humans from Trason, you overgrown lizard,” Arios mumbled. Before moving back into the real plane, he took up position at the opposite end of the room to Kellson. Doubtlessly, his armor might negate any affect the angel thing might have on him, but it was always better to be safe. The soul collector didn’t need to be turned to ash anytime soon.

“Welcome to my class, Kellson. Before we go any further, I must ask you to discard that… thing, from around your neck.”

OOC: Your assignment starts with the last words Arios speak. Kellson must now either get into a fight with Arios about keeping it, or discard it. Either way, you must describe the way Arios looks while doing this. I’m looking for detail here. When the argument ends, he’ll tell you to step into the blood. Once Kellson does, he’ll gradually start to sink, like the blood was quicksand. And, he won’t be able to pull himself out. Describe the feelings that would be going through his mind as he sunk. Once he is fully submerged, he’ll be knocked out as the blood pours over his face. End the post with Kellson waking up in a bone white room, with every weapon he brought with him gone.

500 word minimum.

“Welcome to my class, Kellson. Before we go any further, I must ask you to discard that… thing, from around your neck.”

Kellson turned his head. “What, this?” he asked, touching his amulet.

The thing that answered looked with distaste at his chest. “No,” he (it had to be male—no woman would look or talk that way) said. “The other.”

“Ah. Crucifix,” Kellson clarified. The thing winced. Blue-skinned, white-eyed, and muscular, it did not look like a good idea to piss him off…yet he felt the inexplicable yearning to do just that. There was nothing new there, he thought.

The thing was staring blankly at him now, and Kellson tapped the cross thoughtfully. “Forgive me for staring, Arios—you are Arios, correct?”

“Yes,” Arios said, now fixing his eyes on the cross once more.

“Right. Forgive me for staring, but my last teacher was human—decisively so. And in answer to your question, no.”

“No?”

“No, no, a thousand times no. It’s a religious accessory that doesn’t bother anyone,” Kellson said resolutely, folding his arms across his barrel-chest.

Arios shook his head equally firmly. “It bothers me, and I am your teacher.”

“So?” Kellson replied airily. “I didn’t listen to Cadenza, either.”

“I,” said his teacher, stepping closer, “am not Cadenza Madrigal. Things will be different from now on.”

“I’m sure they will, Sarge,” Kellson quipped.

Kellson gave the man credit—he moved fast. In less than a second the creature was only two feet away from the human. “I could have hit you so hard,” Arios growled quietly. His fist was only inches from Kellson’s face. Kellson shrugged.

“Maybe. Something holding you back? Something like a cru-ci-fiiiiix-suh?” he asked, drawing out the word. Arios would be some sort of demon, Kellson was sure. Blue skin and afraid of the Cross? It had to be. His new teacher’s pupil-less eyes were narrowing into slits. The clenched fist still hovered, motionless, inches away from Kellson’s nose.

“You are going to walk into the center of the pool now,” Arios said, withdrawing his hand from the tension-filled air between them.

“What if I don’t?” Kellson prodded, and was slightly taken aback by the anger growing in Arios’ face. Before he knew it, a demonic fist had come around and slugged him in the stomach, sending him flying backwards into the blood. Immediately, Kellson began sinking. He tried to extricate himself, but it was impossible—the blood held him fast. In seconds, he was up to his waist in the gory pool. Panicking, he held out both hands and began blasting the pool with holy energy. The beams cut into the pool but failed to save him. He was up to his shoulders, then his neck.

“I said ‘now,’” Arios said, as his student’s head was completely submerged, and as Kellson lost consciousness, his final thought was that the damn demon had hit him.

There was blackness and a space of time…

And Kellson awoke to a bleached white room.

Groaning, he raised his head off of the floor. Take stock of yourself, his instincts screamed. What’s going on?

Well, he thought to his distressed instincts, I’m awake in a stark white room. And I’ve no weapons. And my stomach hurts from getting thumped. All in all, instincts, you’d better keep worrying.

OoC: Mm, sorry if that was kinda meh for Arios. He's not exactly in an abundant amount of threads here so I didn't have much to look at. *disappears*

*Likes how you portrayed Arios immensely* Keep up the good work. :3

3rd Assignment

IC:

Reaching into the pool as Kellson’s head disappeared from its surface, Arios ran a claw through the crimson fluid. Instantly, he felt the pull on his extremity, and withdrew hastily. He turned his back to the pool, and walked to the other side of the room, where a small portal awaited him. Silver slivers and purple blotches made up the portal, giving it a less than friendly look. Shouting at it with unintelligible words, the demon stuck a clawed fist into the gateway. Moments later, gas began to leak from the portal, a black vapor that slowly congregated next to Arios.

You summoned me, sire?

Yes, Aneth. I have a rather…special assignment for you today. I want you to keep eye your eye on my newest student, the angelic scum. Make his stay under my teachings harder for him. Tell no-one.

May I ask why, my lord?

He’s an angel. I need not explain anything else to you. Now go.

Disappearing into the pool as quickly as it had come, the fog left Arios alone in Daimona Room.

OOC: Have Kellson inspect every part of the room, and eventually find what appears to be a slit in the way. This will be the only way out, so he must make it bigger somehow. Once this is done, he will find that the slit leads to a hallway, the walls adorned with many ancient suits of armor, as well as shields, but no weapons. Kellson may take anything he wishes to aid him. Once he has finished taking his pick, Kellson will walk down to the end of the hallway, where they’ll be an archway leading to another room, this one incredibly huge and oval in shape. Set in the middle of the room is a pedestal, a sword embedded in it. As Kellson walks through the archway, the room will suddenly become pitch black, and the archway will be shut. He should be able to determine that he is not alone in the room anymore. Have several monsters attack him, but without a true weapon, he wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever. End the post with him reaching the sword in the middle of the room after some fumbling, and grabbing the hilt of the weapon.

600 word minimum.

“Oh, when I get back, I’m going to rip out his demonic spleen and make him EAT it.”

Kellson scowled scanned the room again. Once he woke up, the whiteness had been startling. Now, it was just annoying. “What the hell?” he said incredulously. “There’s no door!”

He paced the room again. “Let’s see, here. Ceiling, walls. Some sort of circular design on the floor there. Damn!”

Striding over to the walls, he peered closer at them, slowly moving clockwise around the room, looking for a way out. There were always secret passageways in stories.

“This isn’t a story…ah-ha, but this,” he said, chuckling, “is a crack in the wall.”

Placing a palm on the slit, he unleashed a torrent of holy energy. The minute opening busted open like a cracked eggshell. Hunching over, he slipped through the hole. “And that, kids,” he snickered to himself, “is how the professionals make doors. All right, new hallway. This one has a door. An improvement.”

It actually did have a door, underneath an ornate archway. Words in a language he couldn’t understand were etched across the archway. Kellson hoped fervently they didn’t translate to ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.’ The walls, also, had the strange writing, but, on a happier note, were adorned with a dozen suits of armor, along with shields. Kellson glanced at his own battered chain-mail. All this armor had to be here for a reason, right? If only there was a weapon.

Five minutes later, the rusty chain-mail lay discarded on the floor, and Kellson was adorned in slightly dusty bronze breastplate, steel gauntlets, and gold and silver greaves. He looked himself over in the reflection of a rounded shield and, as an afterthought, took the shield, too.

“All right,” he said confidently, slipping the shield across his left forearm. “Time to go.”

Striding confidently to the end of the hall, he reached the door and, with a flourish, turned the handle. The dramatic moment was ruined by the fact that the door was locked.

“Oh, god dammit…”

He thrust a steel encased hand and blasted the lock away, brushed away the shards of metal, and looked inside.

The new chamber was similar to the first one—stark white and fairly dull—except for a pedestal in the center. An equally nondescript sword was embedded in the polished white stone. There was only one option in Kellson’s mind: get the weapon.

He walked inside the room and the doors immediately swung shut with a bang. The white coloring on the walls began to blacken and the light dimmed into nothing. There was a hissing, and the entire room was pitch black.

Kellson said nothing, silently waiting for something to happen. His patience paid off. Ragged breathing came from several parts of the room—he counted three, maybe four. Holding out a gloved hand, he exhaled and fired a lance of energy at the same time. A screech echoed and, in the blast of light, the room was illuminated.

“Woah.”

Monsters: they crouched on the floor, black hides slick with grease and sweat, sides heaving with their now-loud breathing; fangs dripped saliva and golden eyes gleamed in the short blast of light. As the light faded, one roared a deep, primal roar, and there was a sound of giant paws smashing against the cool stone floor.

Kellson started running towards the center of the room, letting out two flashes towards the sounds. In his peripheral vision, he saw one of the hellhounds fly backwards and land on its feet, yelping and growling. He felt one grab his ankle with its jaw—he yanked his leg out of its mouth and smashed downwards with his shield, listening to the faint ‘ding’ as metal met skull. It squealed and fell back. Dashing to the pedestal, he tried to grab the sword when another hound leapt over the hilt, bowling him over and trying to bite his neck. Kellson screamed and punched upwards, smashing the hound in the throat with one fist encased in steel. Flipping upright, he scuttled to the pedestal again, blasted the hound that was behind him with holy energy, and wrapped his hand around the sword.

4th Assignment

In a flash of light, Kellson will be transported yet again. He'll no longer have the armor or shield, and to his disappoint the sword that is still with him ends in a flat, blunt edge. He'll now be waist deep in blood, what seems to be a room sized organ, what the actual organ is will be decided later. Have Kellson make his way around the organ until he finds a tiny hole, just big enough for him to crawl through. After coming out the other side, he'll find his way blocked by a spine. He can either climb up or down it. Either way, while he is climbing down, a giant type of parasitic monster will attack. End the post with Kellson beating the monster, loosing his footing, and falling off the spine.

700 word minimum.

There was no sound, only piercing, blinding light, and it was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Kellson alone with closed eyes. He opened them.

He was covered in blood. Not his own, thankfully, but definitely someone. It went up to his waist, movement halfway between an ooze and a slosh. A lighter man could probably walk on it. Disgusting. Kellson was no stranger to blood, but this was much more than he needed to see.

It was the same situation as it had been in the first white room—only now, he had no armor at all. Typical.

“At least I’ve got this,” he said to himself, bringing the sword to eye level. As it came up, he groaned. The tip was dull and almost rounded. “And what a great help this’ll be.”

He sighed and looked at the ceiling. An opening, and a large one. He had to get out sometime, so he might as well start before he caught AIDS or something. Opening his wings, Kellson prepared to lift off. As he did, something sucked him back down. “Now what?” he said exasperatedly. Looking behind him, he could see his wings were now covered in the foul crimson liquid. He tried to flap them experimentally. No luck; they were far too heavy now. Sighing, Kellson folded them again, making them disappear.

Looking around the room, he felt a bit apprehensive. The walls were rounded and brownish-colored. The only light came from the hole in the ceiling. No, there was more—a small hole in the wall. Kellson was uneasy about this (if it had worked once, it really shouldn’t work again), but he squeezed through it anyways.

“Oh.”

A giant, white rock mass blocked his path. It shot upwards towards the dim light source, with some sort of ladder rungs set on it. Kellson realized where the hell he was: a body. If he was in a body, then this was a spine, and the previous chamber was some sort of organ—Kellson was no scientist, how the hell could he know which organ?

“Only one way to go,” he said, and, without hesitation, started climbing the spine.

It wasn’t actually that hard, especially with his amulet supplying him with endless endurance. Handholds were fairly easy to find, using the vertebrae to perch on if he needed to plot out his next pathway up the bones. Kellson reached the quarter-way point in five minutes. Sitting on a conveniently placed piece of bone, he craned his head to see the top—much closer, now.

Beneath him, the rock moved and bucked him off.

“Holy ****!”

He fell down off of the spine, only stopping the fall by throwing out a hand and catching hold of a niche in the bone. Swinging himself easily to a lower bone—possibly the start of a rib—Kellson drew the worthless sword from his belt. The monster clicked sharp, jagged mandibles, blinking eight red, beady eyes. Kellson held out a hand and blasted it with energy. It shrieked in the blast of light, maybe more because of the loss of night vision than the force of the blow. As it climbed down to face him, Kellson frantically tried to beat it back with the sword. Uttering its shrill cry, the monster leapt over the swing and landed on the rib, driving spikes in its many feet into the bone with a crunch.

“Yeah, yeah, come on, mister. We’ll see who’s the king of the spine,” he snarled, and the monster squealed and roared angrily.

Kellson jabbed at one of the creature’s eyes and popped it with a sickening squelch. As the creature reared back, dripping black-green blood, Kellson wondered if blunt was so bad, after all. The parasite slammed back down, screaming in fury. The demi-angel feinted to the left before flipping onto its back, placing both hands over its head, and blasting it. Beams of light ripped from both fists, breaking the skull of the grey exoskeleton and smashing into the creature’s brain. It shrieked a death cry and flailed madly. In the death throes, it bucked and shook madly. Kellson lost his footing, and fell off into the abyss. Wings too heavy to flap, he fell down, down, down…

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

5th Assignment

When Kellson comes to this time, he’ll find that his sense of sight is gone. Upon closer inspection, he is not actually blind, but an opaque black band of shadow is in reality just sticking to the upper part of his face. It can’t be removed, and nothing can help him to see through it. He’ll also no longer have the sword, but instead something that feels egg shaped will be in his hand. When Kellson’s mind ever thinks of any kind of weapon, the egg thing will automatically change into it, though it may take some time for him to master how to use it. After the initial fright of not being able to see and the discovery of the egg, have the demi-angel explore the room, and encounter a single foe. Fight it off, but do not kill it. Instead, after a defeat against Kellson, it will flee, presumably though the only exit. End your post with Kellson following, but almost immediately crashing into another person, whom will shout at him.

750 word minimum.

There was no talking, there was only darkness.

And then, Kellson awoke, opening his eyes. Still, there was only darkness. Immediately, he started to panic. Had the fall from the spine blinded him? Were more creatures nearby? Was this permanent, or was it a trick of his literally goddamned teacher? More importantly, how the hell was he going to get out of here if he was blind? Catastrophe!

Frantically, he put a hand to his face, trying to rub his eyes. Something was blocking them, obviously dark. He tried to remove it, but failed. Slowly, his ragged breathing evened. He wasn’t blind, thank God. Someone or something had put this blindfold over his face, and he couldn’t get it off. Oh, well; what’re you gonna do?

Panic fully subsided, he finally noticed the object clenched in his hand. The blunt and near-useless sword had been replaced by…oval, smooth, round…an egg? Who was running this Dome? Whoever it was, he was a complete moron that probably couldn’t tell if it was arsehole or breakfast. Annoyed, Kellson tried to tap it on the ground to see if it was hard-boiled (he had a strange craving, as many Watchmen in his hometown had had, for hard-boiled eggs), but the shell refused to come off.

Damn! Without a weapon, and without a nutritious snack. Kellson’s stomach growled at him, and he mentally shushed it. More important things were missing besides meals. Vision, for one thing. Weapons, for another. He wished he had his brass knuckles, at least.

Instantly, he felt the egg twist and contort to form what was unmistakably a set of brass knuckles, already ringed around his hand. He took them off and rubbed them. The real deal. Was this just a coincidence? Was he going crazy? Kellson doubted it. He was one of the sanest people he knew, assuredly. He experimentally thought about a dagger. The knuckles, previously an egg, did not change. He repeated the action, but instead of merely thinking of a dagger, he wished for one. The brass knuckles morphed silently into a perfectly balanced, razor sharp knife. The demi-angel was amazed. This was brilliant. If he had to spend the rest of his life blind, he wanted to spend it with this multi-purpose weapon. Or he could sell it for the riches of five different kingdoms and get someone to fix his eyesight.

Kellson wished for a battle-axe. The dagger’s handle lengthened into a wooden haft and the blade elongated and widened into the axe head. In quick succession, he wished for a sword, a scythe, and a mace. It worked every time. Happily, he hefted the mace and stood. Time to find a way out.

A creaking sound came from his left; he spun and held the mace up defensively. His tiny core of cynicism silently said, “Good job, moron, fight something off that you can’t see.”

Shut up, he thought. I’ve got the best weapon in the universe at my disposal. I think I can handle one worthless goon. Yes, Kellson could hear footsteps. Adrenaline began flooding through his arteries and veins, heightening his senses and making him quiver with excitement and pent-up action. Fight or flight, fight or flight.

Fight, of course. Flight wouldn’t work, especially if the pursuer could see and Kellson could not. The footsteps got louder, and then…

Swish.

The demi-angel ducked and rolled, feeling the rush of cool air hit him as some sort of weapon was swung above him. He swung the mace, heard a crunch and a grunt, and wished for a crossbow. As the mace changed, he rolled away and started firing. He heard a click, sighed, and wished for a multi-bolt style crossbow, like his own. Shooting rapid-fire at the sounds of breathing, he changed the crossbow into a spear and waved it around in the air. There was a thunk as the wooden haft hit the attacker, and a cry of pain. Kellson pulled the spear back and thrust, feeling it penetrate flesh. By the second scream, he could tell it wasn’t fatal—probably in the shoulder or arm. In seconds, the attacker was fleeing.

“Running away, eh? Come back here, you bloody wanker” Kellson muttered. He dashed off after the sounds, then remembered that he was blind and slowed down a bit. Better not to trip over something and get his nose broken. The attacker was headed towards where he had come in…

Of course. If he had come in, then he—and Kellson—could go out.

He felt cooler air waft in and knew it was the exit. Sprinting, he ran out the door and smashed right into someone. There was a curse as they both toppled over, hitting the floor painfully and probably in a very undignified manner.

An angry voice cried out, “What the hell, dumb*ss?”

6th Assignment

Scooping up the dragon hatchling as it tried to flee from Kellson, Mera took a quick glance at its wounds. Its head was a mess of holes from where the mace had struck, though thankfully the dragon’s head had a meaty lining, a red mark on its cheek from where the spear had hit, as well as a wound in its shoulder, dripping green blood.

“What the hell did you beat this thing up for?!” Lashing out with a metal plated fist, she struck the demi-angel squarely in the stomach, causing his to step back, bent-over. Spitting several curses at him, the Nelomak turned her attention back to the hatchling, which was starting to whimper frightfully. Cooing it like a mother would a baby, she laid a palm on its head and let the magic within her flow out. Almost instantly, the wounds healed, and the mark disappeared.

“Run along back to your mother, before someone else tries to get you,” Mera chuckled. Sticking her tongue out at the baby, she lowered it to the floor, from which it scampered away down a hallway.

“What’s happening?!” Her cheeriness gone in an instant, the Nelomak turned on Kellson, her eyes filled with rage.

OOC: Kellson should receive another blow to his body from Mera, who’ll berate him for what he did. When they get to the subject of the not being able to see, she’ll put a hand to his head and remove the darkness from him. Then she’ll hit him again, most likely in the jaw. Remember, her blows will be unpredictable, so there isn’t much chance of Kellson being able to block them. Mera will then ask where the demi-angel is supposed to be going, and will be slightly annoyed with his answer, regardless of what it is. She’ll then tell him that he is in the Animal Training sector of the Dome, right in the heart of the dragon habitat. She’ll leave, and disappear around a corner before Kellson has the chance to ask anymore questions. End the post with Kellson walking out of the room, down a hallway or two, and coming face to face with what seems to be an army of dragons, the one that he injured at the very front.

800 word minimum.

IC: Kellson stumbled backwards, holding his gut and sucking in air. God, this woman had a punch on her like a mule! Groaning, he leaned against a wall as she murmured lovingly to his attacker. That’s great, lady, he thought angrily. Be nice to the guy I just beat up.

“Run along back to your mother, before someone else tries to get you,” the woman laughed. There was a clicking on the floor like a chicken was running across it and then Kellson felt the woman’s attention turn to him.

“What’s happening?” she snarled.

“I—” Kellson began, but couldn’t finish. The woman punched him again, making him double over, coughing.

“You little worm, what’s the matter with you? Mutilating an innocent baby dragon for no reason!”

“I—” he started again, but received another punch.

“I can’t believe anyone could be so cruel,” the woman shouted over his fallen body, “so callous, so inhumane!”

“Listen, lady, it was—”

WHAM.

“Ow! Goddammit!”

“How dare you? What the hell is your problem, anyways?”

“For the love of Christ, lady, shut your trap for a second and listen,” Kellson bellowed. “I can’t see my own hand in front of my face and I thought that thing, whatever it was, was attacking! Lay off; it was an accident! Jesus!”

“Oh,” she said calmly, raised voice abandoned. “I see. You’re blind, then?”

“Not normally,” he said. “There’s something on my eyes.” Harlot, he added silently.

“Ah.” He felt a hand on his head and instantly recoiled, but the woman ignored him. Slowly, the blackness faded into bright light. Kellson sat, blinking, until his sight returned to normal. Starting at the ground, he moved his gaze upwards, spending a few more seconds than was needed on the woman’s chest. Her body was pretty and her personality was pretty awful. Lovely.

The demi-angel groaned and pushed himself upright into a standing position. “Thanks,” he said sarcastically.

“Anytime,” she said sweetly, and her fist came around again, this time at jaw-level. The punch hit so hard Kellson saw stars and fireworks explode in his eyes.

“Don’t attack baby dragons,” she said fiercely.

“Damn, woman,” Kellson growled. “I told you, it was an accident. I couldn’t see it. I thought I was being attacked.”

They both turned to look at the cowering baby dragon at the end of the hall. It squeaked and scampered off.

“Well, be more careful next time,” she said with a complete lack of apology that annoyed him even more.

“Yeah, when I can’t see things I get jumpy. My bad. I’m Kellson,” he said without bothering to proffer a hand in greeting. She wouldn’t take it, anyways.

“Mera,” Mera said. “What’re you doing here? Where are you going?”

“I don’t know where here is. I’m looking for Arios. He’s my teacher, but mainly I think I want to kill him. Long story, don’t ask.”

“Fine,” she replied, with a hint of irritation. “I won’t. As for where you are, you’re in the Animal Training section of the Dome. Specifically, you’re smack damn in the middle of the dragon habitat, which,” she added, curling her lip, “is why you ran into that little one over there. So you have no idea where you’re going?”

“No.”

“Oh, too bad for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Mera strode away stiffly. “Wait,” he called after her. “Which way out? Stupid whore,” he muttered to her as she pretended not to hear him. “I’ll find the way out myself. Don’t need directions.”

He set off in the opposite direction, tossing the multi-weapon (now returned to an egg shape) up and down. Was everyone in this stupid school hostile? No one ever came up and said, “Hello, my name is Blank, how’ya doin’?” Apparently, being nice was to much of a damn chore for them to do. Of course, Kellson knew he wasn’t exactly Mr. Sunshine, but nobody’s perfect.

Stalking down the corridors, the demi-angel kept an eye out for any animal-loving suckers to tell him where to get out. All the hallways looked the same. How big was this Dome, anyways? He was tired of walking through random doorways and halls just to get attacked again and again. And he was hungry.

Stopping abruptly, Kellson laughed. He sounded like a petulant child. Good grief. That would have to stop. Find a way out, stop feeling sorry for yourself, and have done with it! It would be a focused mind that won the day, not a grumbling, half-hearted excuse of a warrior. Chin up, lad.

He turned a corner and stopped.

“Oh, ****. I’d better leave my chin where it is,” he sighed.

The baby dragon he had accidentally attacked squealed once more, standing in front of what were probably its parents, grandparents, siblings, extended relatives, and all of their friends. Hundreds of dragons.

“This Dome sucks,” Kellson said, bouncing the egg in his palm, irritated.

Ah, it's good to be back!

It'll be tough to get you out of that last assignment to what I have planned without some weird segway... ah well.

I'm going to have my character Hunter substitute for a little while until my Crossroads with Awkin ("Her Rebellion") comes to a close and we see how that's resolved. I can't be sure what state Cadenza will be in after that, and she can't see Jhans anytime after Field Trip and before that Crossroads. Anyhow, I'm sure you don't mind much about that, so I'll get to the lesson. Kellson might have fun with Hunter anyways--he's a prince. <_<

This should explain how he comes about to being a substitute:
IC:
Beyond the kingdom of Choras, there is a door to a realm few know exists. Never has one aware of its existence at the very edge of their realm stepped into the dimension, for they fear their imagination could not even fathom, nor could their mind ever comprehend the wonders there. And only one from the other side has ever crossed over into the world of Medina.

At first, the woman had entered to plunder and deceive. But now she left attached to the door a request for help.

Prince Hunter Merridale, the only man in all of Medina with the fortitude to dare become the second to pass through the door, would answer. On a morning stroll through the woods on his mare, Mannie, he caught sight of the elaborate green door to which his friend Cadenza Madrigal had notified him of before. And there, scrabbled in a rough, quick manner in mascara was a note, attached to the wooden surface by a strange plastic material Hunter deduced was the “tape” the gypsy once explained to him.

Hunter removed the note from the door with care, and read aloud:
I've been summoned to Rubato, but I will return. Merridale, if you’re reading this: please fill in for me at the Dome, and watch over Avello.

I’ll be back alive. You can count on it.

-Cadenza

Hunter wasn’t sure what to make of the note. Has Cadenza gone mad? She wishes for me to be a…a substitute teacher? I have a war to fight and a country to defend! I cannot lay around idle in some “Dome” and teach students!

He sighed and glanced over the note again. It was written so very quickly, haphazardly, the letters were erratic in neatness and darkness, and trailed off the end of the page on the last “it.” What on Medina had pressured Cadenza to write in such a panicked manner? …I cannot bring myself to ignore this call for aid. While I am not able to stay at this Dome full-time, perhaps I can pop in every now-and-again, and give her students a lesson.

Studying the note further, Hunter discovered a folded-up map pinned to the back. Unraveling it, he saw that the map was of the “Dome” the note spoke of, and had two dorms circled in mascara.

These must be the dorms of her students! he realized. Wonderful, there seems to only be two! I will not have to stray from Choras long.

Stuffing the note and map into a bag, Hunter hitched Mannie to a tree and left her with some oats and water. He then turned the knob of the strange green door—and entered the realm of the Dome.

OoC:
Hunter will have gone to Kellson's room searching for him--and of course be unsuccessful. He makes a stop afterwards in Cadenza's dorm to check in on Avello, but once the door opens, the teenaged dragon will burst out, following the scent of other dragons and Kellson. Hunter will give chase, and eventually catch up with Avello when he reaches the area Kellson is in.

The dragons and Kellson will have begun fighting by that point, but Avello will interfere and try to reason with the other dragons. When that fails, it becomes a battle between Kellson, Avello, and a confused Hunter, against the whole group of dragons.

Do with that what you will.

After the fight, Hunter will explain he is "filling in until a more permanent teacher can be found."

I'd say... 800 words minimum, but quality's what counts most here. If that lesson's a bit too restricting, you can take a little bit of freedom in some areas; just make sure to follow that basic plotline.

So, should I just kill them or run? Who would be pissed if I knocked off some worthless lizards?

The first dragon leaped, green and scaly, about a foot shorter than Kellson. The demi-angel held out a hand and fired holy energy, knocking the reptilian beast back, squealing. More flew or scampered towards him only to be pushed back by the glowing light. Kellson, fierce grin illuminated by the flashes of gold, decided that this was actually fun. It was like a game. Two points if you push the dragon to the front line, five if you throw it into the scaly masses. Heck, why not make it a round dozen if you throw the bloody lizard into the wall?

He had reached fourty-seven points before they started pressing him back. The dragons were too numerous to simply be repelled one by one, and everyone in the room knew it. They charged forward like a mob, causing the regicide to start backpedaling into the hallway. If they kept going, he'd have to use deadly force--he still possessed the weapon egg.

A shrill cry behind them stopped all activity, man and beast. A violet dragon, almost up to Kellson's waist, bounded past him and began squeaking and shrieking to the mass of puzzled dragons that stood before him. The largest of the mob responded with a much deeper growl.

"I hate it when I can't speak the language," Kellson said.

"I know what you mean," said a voice behind him. A man, several inches shorter than Kellson, jogged up, brushing ruffled brown hair back. He wore a forest-green cape over shining--apparently polished, making Kellson curl his lip-- plate-style armor. A long spear was strapped to his back. The demi-angel eyed it. A bit too fancy, but it looked like it could do some damage. Rather than saying that aloud, Kellson just cocked his head, slightly annoyed.

"Who the hell are you?"

There was a loud roar, and the dragons behind them erupted into motion, charging as one at the trio.

"Later!" the man shouted, drawing his spear.

"I don't think we're allowed to kill them," Kellson called over the noise of the stampede. He took the weapon-egg from his pocket and transformed it into a staff. Damn, but that thing was useful. If only he had another one to make him some armor.

The man nodded and flipped his spear, holding it wrong side-up so the head wouldn't gut any unsuspecting dragons. The purple dragon backed up beside them, flapping its wings and puffing up aggressively. So. One of the little buggers is on our side.

Standing their ground, the two humans and one dragon met the tide of reptilian bodies, beating (or in the lone dragon's case, clawing) back the mass of scales. Kellson thought he handled his staff, a weapon he normally would trade immediately for a sword, fairly well until he saw the other man fighting. Smacking back the press of dragons with audible thunks and clunks, he fought with obvious ease. A specialist with the spear, then? Who knew?

No matter their skill, the quantity was winning out over quality. Kellson continued to step back until he felt a wall behind him. Had they really gone all the way down the hall? Sidestepping a roaring baby dragon that rammed head-first into the wall, he knocked into something round and hard. Rubbing his back while using his other hand to blast away dragons, he found what was surely a blessing from God: a doorknob.

"In here!" he shouted, opening the door, which was, thankfully, unlocked. The violet dragon and the spear-wielding man fell through as Kellson stood in front, beating back the crowd. One smaller dragon flew into the air with little wings and dived, sharp fangs bared, towards Kellson's neck. He morphed the spear into a sword and thrust it upwards. The young dragon, momentum carrying it unstoppably forward, impaled itself on the sword, blue blood gushing everywhere. Kellson changed the sword into a dagger, forcing the dragon to fall to the ground, and dashed through the door, slammed it shut, and pressed his back up against it.

Thuds echoed across the room--a small passageway only, probably to a larger chamber--for several minutes, but slowly faded away as the dragons seemed to give up their bombardment. Silence was attained.

Leaning on the door, Kellson eyed the man, who was standing straight and tall, barely breathing irregularly at all. Good stamina, then.

"Thanks for that," Kellson said, mainly to the dragon, but the spearman nodded acknowledgement anyways. "My undead bastard of a teacher threw me to the dogs and I've been run ragged around this bloody school all morning. I'm Kellson."

"Ah, Kellson," said the man, holding out a hand. "A pleasure to meet you. I’m going to be filling in as thine new teacher until a suitable, and final, replacement can be found.”

“Bugger. Another one. Oh, well. And you are?” Kellson asked, taking the hand and shaking it half-heartedly.

“Prince Hunter Merridale, at your service,” he replied, inclining his head. Lines in Kellson’s face locked, and he slowly released the prince’s hand.

“Really. A prince.”

“Yes, prince.”

Christ, Kellson thought angrily. This just keeps getting better.

Ah, I’ve really missed reading your work. You always have a very strong narrator voice. I have no nitpicks this time around. Oh, and good job with Hunter's character.

Here’s your next assignment:

Hunter won’t pick up on Kellson’s dislike/hatred of royalty just yet. He’ll have Kellson come with him to escort Avello back to the dorms, and on the way, he’ll engage Kellson in a conversation about his choice of weaponry, which will escalate into a debate about which is better: specializing (Hunter’s side obviously) vs. being well-rounded. No matter who wins that argument (if anyone does), have them eventually end up at Cadenza’s dorm, where they drop off Avello.

Afterwards, Hunter will rush off to return to Medina (with or without explaining—your choice.)

No word minimum this time. (Haha, and I wouldn't expect the responses and new assignments to always be this quick. I just had an idea I liked.)

Slightly apologetic, Hunter Merridale asked his new pupil if he would mind if they took a detour to drop Avello off. Kellson grunted a monosyllabic "mmm" and fell in behind the dragon, who seemed to know where he was going.

They walked quietly for several minutes, footsteps echoing across the halls, until Hunter, who apparently felt pressed to break the deafening silence, asked politely, "Where did thine spear go, Kellson?"

"What spear? Oh. Yeah." The regicide pulled the egg from his pocket and, concentrating, morphed it into a thin spear. "This egg can make any weapon I think of. Works well for well-rounded fighters. Like me," he added unmodestly. But, modest or not, it was definitely true.

"Ah. You fight with many weapons. That may suit you fine, but I myself prefer this spear to any other instrument of death. I have used it for years."

Specialist, Kellson thought again. He'd get his face cut off and handed to him in a brawl. He shrugged and said, "Your choice."

The prince seemed to notice the slight derision in his new pupil's tone. "Do you not think being proficient in one weapon is useful? If one trains with the spear for years, would he not be a more skilled fighter than one who uses multiple weapons to only mediocre success?"

Kellson snorted. "Maybe, but he'd have a helluva lot'a blisters. Besides, all someone would have to do to kill yo- um, a spearman like that would be to shoot him in the face, or just knock the spear out of the way with a sword. Heck, if it was me, I'd just grab the spear and steal it, then kill my opponent with his own oversized toothpick. It ain't that hard. But someone who uses lots of weapons is versatile. Take me, f'rinstance. I can use just about any weapon you give me to far greater success than 'mediocre.' Know why? 'Cause all I have to do is get good with one weapon and move on to the next. It's like walking; you don't forget how."

They turned the corner. Avello made a "squee!" sound and rushed on ahead to what Kellson knew to be Cadenza's dorm. So this little runt belonged to her? Aw. How sweet.

"But such a versatile man could surely not be as skilled overall as one who trained with one weapon to perfection," said Merridale, opening Cadenza's dorm and letting Avello in.

"Yeah? We'll see. But if someone takes your spear away from you and you have to fight, you're in some trouble."

Hunter poked his head into Cadenza's room. "Oh, dear, look at the time. I must return to my land, Medina."

"What?"

"Forgive me," said his so-called teacher, turning to leave, "but duty calls. I will return."

As he left, Kellson rolled his eyes. "Good grief. Here one second, gone the next. Who is running this school?"

Once again, no mistakes or nitpicky things to point out.

Next assignment:

Hunter won't return the next day, so Kellson will be free to spend the day however he'd like. Just be creative and have fun. 600 words minimum.

Brown eyes snapped open, staring wildly at the ceiling. Where did the flames go? The screams?

Oh, that's right. It was just a dream.

Kellson groaned, pushing the nightmare from his mind, and tried to heave himself up onto his elbows. His body rebelled. Annoyed, he rolled over and snatched his amulet from the bedpost, dropped it over his head, and sprang nimbly out of bed as all vestiges of exhaustion dissipated. There were much more important things to do than worry about the prospect of eternal damnation all day long.

Like what, a snide voice in his head asked. Kellson responded, "Like plot how to kill my substitute teacher. We don't like royalty, do we?"

No, the voice said, slightly abashed.

"Right," Kellson said. Glancing at the clock, he saw that he and his nightmare had slept in until eleven-thirty. If his soon-to-be-dead substitute was going to come, he would have come already. Bugger to him. If he wanted to find the regicide, he would have to come look.

Whistling, he (gingerly) grabbed the slumbering hedgehog Spiny Norman and deposited him in his satchel. Belting on his bandolier of knives, he kicked open the door and jauntily strolled through.

Why am I feeling so good today?

The demi-angel sauntered through the hallways aimlessly, looking for something to amuse himself with. Men, women, and Things of all shapes and sizes milled around, striding from one destination to the next. Kellson eyed a few and idly wondered what they were guilty of (the possibility that they were completely innocent never crossed his mind). Nonchalantly poking his head through a doorway, he was forced to hastily withdraw it as a knife whizzed past and buried itself in the frame with a splintering crunch. Plucking the knife from its resting place and adding it to his own collection, Kellson removed his cowl and ambled inside.

He had found a bar, by the look of it. A table in the back where men sat, surrounded by a shroud of smoke, had card decks and poker chips laid out on it, while others threw darts, talked, or just drank drinks. The poker table seemed the most violent and angry section of the room, so Kellson, naturally, headed over to see what was going on and, if at all possible, make things worse.

Sidling up, he loomed patiently over the arguing men who gesticulated fiercely, waving knives and poker cards in each other's faces. Kellson listened, slightly interested, and then decided to step in.

"So, apparently somebody or someone somewhat cheated somehow, or something," he said. Silence met his words as the men tried to figure out what that meant; he could their very lips making out the sentence.

"Yeah, right," one said. "He pulled out a duke of clubs and won the pot, but then I remembered that there is no duke of clubs. There's no dukes at all in this game."

There was a chorus of yeah's. Kellson shrugged. "There must be. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to have one. Oh, well. Deal me in."

"We're already playing and there's no more roo--" someone began. Kellson absentmindly extended a fist and smashed the man in the nose.

"Thank you," he said as the man toppled over his chair. "Just a small start for me, thanks."

He received his chips and his cards. The game went on fairly quietly and fairly fair until the final round. Kellson laid down two jacks, two deuces, and one king before saying, "Full house. Pot's mine."

Snatching the money from the center of the table, he cashed in his chips while there was a silence as the men tried once more to figure out what happened. As the winged man pocketed his cash, one of the men said, "What the hell? He had two pair and a king!"

They stood as one, shouting angrily, but Kellson was already out the door, running like crazy and laughing like a madman.

There was pursuit, of course; no one appreciates being cheated, especially when the reason they lost was because they were complete idiots. But Kellson loped along the corridors much faster and without slowing down or pausing, losing them easily. Still chuckling, he patted his sack full of money and continued on.

OoC: Ew, that was late. And yes, I have done that in poker before. It works if you're fast.

Just a small stylistic thing to point out first:

A table in the back where men sat, surrounded by a shroud of smoke, had card decks and poker chips laid out on it, while others threw darts, talked, or just drank drinks.

The bolded part is a little redundant. Try finding a synonym to substitute for "drank". Or swap "drinks" for a synonym, but switching "drank" seems to be a better fix.

Aside from that, nice job. Good poker inclusion, even if it was a bit on the short side.

Here's your next assignment:

Hunter will knock on Kellson's dorm door the next day, and tell him that he needs a person escorted to a town several miles from the Dome. This person is in possession of some very valuable knowledge, and many different people will be after him for it. Kellson will have to protect him, as well as navigate his way to the person's final destination using a map Hunter provides.

When Kellson goes to the entrance hall of the Dome to meet his charge, he'll find it's a young boy. React how you will to that. As they travel, the boy will remind Kellson of a younger version of himself somewhat, which can bother him or what have you. End your post with the successful delivery of the boy (he must be alive, but otherwise his condition is up to you) to the man awaiting him at your destination.

No word minimum.