[Zorolo] Nathan's Training

OoC: This is carried on directly from my previous training thread, so you’ll want to have a peek at it.

IC:

The messenger was gone before Nathan could catch a look at him, but he managed to hear the resonant click of boots on the floor of the bedroom antechamber.

“Looks like my training’s about to begin,” Nathan cooed outwardly. “It’s just a pity that vixen Cadenza’s my teacher.” The boy shook some drops of water from his hair and giggled at his own insult. “I should get her fired some time. “

The boy half ran, half skipped his way back to the cottage, all the time savouring the sand between his toes and the sun on his back. It had risen since his little jaunt in the ocean; the time was about eleven, he guessed.

Once inside Nathan hastily peeled off his wet shorts. He inspected the never-ending closet of goodies until he found what he was looking for, a pair of trousers. It was made from a synthetic material he had never come across: black, yet shiny, and impossibly smooth. He marvelled at the craftsmanship as he pulled them on, relishing the feel of the fabric on his skin. The new trousers didn’t match Nate’s outfit, but he didn’t care. Hearing this all-important announcement in the foyer was the most important thing at the moment. He threw on his cap with a flourish and a jingle of bells, and bounced out the door.

*

Even now, knowing its true purpose, the antechamber sent an eerie chill up Nate’s spine, like it could trap him again at any moment. He wouldn’t put it past Cadenza to play with his hope even more than she already had. With that in mind the boy hurried out of the room, into the dim, fiery light of the Dome. The long corridor before him was deserted, spotted with ancient doors like everywhere else in the great school.

“George?” he called half-heartedly, wishing the kind sailor would escort him again. “Are you there?”

Suddenly the sound of footfalls reverberated against the tough marble floor, but it wasn’t George’s knowing swagger. The strides were confident, but in a mocking way, as if they were supposed to be heard as part of a trap. Nathan’s senses were immediately heightened; the boy cursed as an image of his sabre on the bedside table flashed through his mind. Luckily, his pistol had been wrapped in his shirt by the previous evening’s mysterious visitor. He cocked it hastily and held it in his two hands, ready to fire if an enemy approached.

The footsteps continued, but there was something odd about them. The sound didn’t heighten or quieten, it remained the same. It didn’t seem to be coming from anywhere either; it was nothing more than a uniform ticking in his head. Paranoia grew, a dangerous weed in the garden of his imagination.

“Show yourself!”

The steps continued, boring into his skull, his soul. The boy fired a shot, swearing seconds later as it ricocheted from the stone wall. It landed harmlessly a few feet away. Still the strides continued; it was time to take action.

Nathan darted like a shadow to the wall on his left, keeping his back permanently glued to it. His gun was poised mere centimetres from his face, in a position humorously reminiscent of something from a bad action movie. “Coward!” he cried, creeping ever further along the grand hallway.

“Is that so?”

Nathan froze, examining the voice intently. It was strong and refined, oozing etiquette. He waited for another sound. Nothing came, only the volcanic beating of his heart. “So there is someone there, not just another cowardly mind game?”

“That’s for you to decide for yourself; where is the noise coming from?

Nathan listened intently to the noise that followed. It was odd, hard to trace. His best guess told him it was the echo of a hollow metal barrel, repeated endlessly.

“Follow the sound. Further down the corridor? Through your own psyche? Decide for yourself.”

The footfalls had ceased, one thing to be assured by. The beating of the drum, however, was poignant as ever.

“Reality, or imagination?”

Nathan ignored it, adamant on finding the source of the sound. He slithered down the corridor, just to see if the sound got louder. It didn’t. Finally, another idea came to him. It pulsed through him, pushing out every other thought. His hand loosed subconsciously, dropping the pistol with another wayward shot. The boy closed his eyes slowly, almost as if he was going to begin meditating. He clasped his hands over his ears and inhaled deeply, ready to truly listen. The beating continued.

“Get out of my head.” It was little more than a whisper, but was fuelled by loathing and indignation. “Get out.”

The hammering stopped crisply, just as another sound began: clapping. It was slow and concise, coming from directly behind him. The boy dropped his hands to the ground and grabbed the gun, readied it to fire. He swung around to face they way he had come. A door opened in front of him.

“You certainly took your time!” It was the same voice from his head, but less ethereal. “Half-finished education, I’m guessing?” The man walked out slowly from the other room. He was incredibly tall, with his jet black hair slicked back with a tub of cream. He was wearing a pristine black suit with matching black tie, and his hands were adorned with countless gold rings. He walked one step closer to Nate.

“Stay back!” the boy shouted, raising his gun to the man’s head.

The man fixed Nathan with a penetrating gaze, almost as if he was looking inside his head. Without thinking, Nate dropped the pistol. He stared incredulously at his hand. “How did you do that?” he coughed.

“Resist the urge to kill me and you might find out.”

The boy nodded slowly and swallowed, reaching down to fetch his gun. Just as he did so, the man began talking again.

“You may have been slightly perturbed earlier when a harbinger announced your summons; well, I’m here to erase any doubts you may have. Cadenza and some other instructors have gone, to be blunt; we don’t know where, why, or even if they will be coming back, but we have to deal with the present situation. As you can imagine, some new teachers have been hired to replace the old. It is my job to root out those unworthy of tutelage, now that our most experienced staff members are gone. You however are worthy of training. If you come with me we can begin the preliminary assignments to decide your fate."

He emphasised the last word, clung to it longer than the others. By the time Nate picked up on it he had started taking huge strides down the corridor. Nathan ran to catch up with him then looked up into his protruding eyes.

“My fate?” he enquired anxiously.

The man let out a crisp laugh. “Just something to get your heart going. I couldn’t resist playing with someone so infantile.” He laughed again and walked on.

*

Nathan didn’t try to follow as the man knowingly navigated through hundreds of intricate corridors. There was nothing noticeable, nothing out of place. They were all the same: marble floors, walls carved from gargantuan boulders, thousands of dusty lamps. He imagined though that each of the rooms concealed by those plain wooden doors were as fascinating and unconventional as his own dorm. He didn’t get to see a single one. A crowd had gathered a few metres before him, in a distinctly circular part of the Dome. It was about half-way down a corridor, he guessed, with the only distinguishable feature being a pane of thin glass and a panel of wood that separated the crowd and a diminutive secretary. The tall man left Nathan’s side, tapped the glass lightly.

“That’s the last one, Melissa,” he said through a warm smile.

“Of course, Professor. I’ll begin orientation now.” The little woman stood up on her strong wooden chair and clasped her hands together. The entire crowd immediately glanced in her direction. She smiled broadly. “You few have survived the purge!” she whistled. “And, as your prize, you may continue your tutelage here at the esteemed Dome. As your examiners have already explained, your previous teachers have-“ she paused, “Retired. As such, you will be given new teachers. Now, if you would be so kind as to follow me, the evaluations can begin.” The lady stepped off her stool and pushed part of the wood outward to escape her compartment. She ushered forward quickly with her hands, waddling to the nearest door and tapping it lightly. The woman entered with a slither as Nate rushed to get a better view.

It was a gymnasium, but scattered throughout were pieces of magical apparatus and fierce-looking instructors, spell-casters and warriors alike. The little woman clapped her hands again. “Welcome to orientation!”

OoC: WEll, I must say, orientation is interesting.

Assignment 1:

Like all good Dome teachers, Nate's teacher is nowhere to be found. The orientation, an excessively long, boring, dull, mindless string of speeches from a bunch of rather inane and senseless elders will proceed. When Nate finally snaps and has to leave, have him wander through the Dome until he winds up standing at the base of a mountain. Word minimum: 600.

“You, young man, can sit there”. The secretary tapped Nate on the shoulder and pointed one chubby finger at an uncomfortable wooden chair. It was one amongst dozens, the only difference being that it wasn’t occupied. Nate smiled warmly at the dwarf and took his seat beside an iron-clad adolescent. The boy's entire suit of armour shimmered like jewels in the midday sun. His porous blue eyes and waves of golden hair made him seem like something from a fairy tale. He had the same immature look about him as Nathan had.

Nate sat uncomfortably in the chair as rays light streamed through enormous windows and into his eyes. The instructors from before stood huddled at the back of the room, bickering amongst themselves and making fierce gestures. Nathan stifled a giggle and threw his hat on the floor. The knight beside him snapped his neck around and glared daggers. “Are you mocking the elders?”

The grin flew from Nathan’s face as he tried to look sombre. “I was actually laughing at your suit,” he concocted avidly. The other boy’s glare continued, being joined by a fiery dislike in his eyes. Nathan was suddenly very afraid.

“You don’t insult me ever again. D’you hear?”

Visceral memories of a childhood of bullying swirled in Nathan’s brain. He forgot about the boy, the Dome, orientation for a second, giving sway to reminiscence.

The school bathroom, floor soaked through with a stench to match fresh manure. The boys shoved Nathan in by the collar, smirks, giggles and roars abundant. Nate tried to block out the pain as he was smacked against the restroom mirror; the salty taste of fresh blood trickling down his sallow face; utter revulsion as his face shattered the stillness of the murky toilet water; agonized coughs followed by more punches; then it was over. His senses abandoned him with the vicious bullies fleeing the bathroom. Darkness.

“Are you alright?” It was the armoured boy again, slapping him lightly on the face and pinching his ear. “Wake up! Orientation’s starting!” The boy pushed Nate once more than flopped in his chair to absorb the lectures.

Nerd-bully...

Nathan fought the sudden tiredness that pushed his eyelids down and focused on the elderly man at the podium. Unlike the other staff in the room, he didn’t look fearsome. The faintest wisp of silver hair danced on his forehead, complimenting a kind, knowledgeable face. He wore an enormous black robe that dropped past his arms and legs, making him look almost silly. “Welcome students!” he cried in a passionate, aged voice. “I humbly accept all of you into our welcoming fold. May you all realize your talents here and make friends that may last you till death.” The ancient man wilted away from the podium, leaving the rest of the staff wondering what to do next. Nathan grabbed his chance and sprung around to face the youthful knight.

“I’m Nathan – or Nate – and I have a sword! What’s your name? What do you do?”

The boy raised his eyebrow, but began talking anyway. “I’m Primus, and I’m a lancer.” The boy beckoned to an enormous weapon that had been discarded by the entrance of the hall. Primus shrugged. “It’s too big to carry everywhere.”

“Neat. Do anything else? I control lightning.”

The knight looked like he had been punched in the stomach. “You what?”

“I control lightning. I didn’t really think it was that big a deal, considering all the fantastic powers you see in this place. Haven’t you seen magic before?”

Primus shook his head slowly. “Well of course not! What kind of person do you take me for?”

“I haven’t really judged you at all yet.”

The boy stretched out his hand for a shake, then darted it back again. “The speeches are starting!”

The first man was a spellcaster. He droned for what seemed like hours about the importance of nurturing magic and learning how to use it properly. He was followed by a warrior, then another, and another. Nathan’s figurative hours all too slowly transpired into literal ones. All the time no one talked, or fidgeted, or dared to interrupt as elder after elder slowly bored them to death. He could feel himself slipping. He had to go. The explorer coughed conspicuously and nudged Primus, who was hopelessly enveloped in the speeches. He coughed again, daring a whispered “Primus!” under his breath. He slammed his foot down on the boy’s armoured toe and let out a pained yell, finally rousing the boy from his stupor, along with everyone else.

“Mr. Overheart!” a rigid teacher dressed in tweed whispered shrilly from behind the concessions. “Do keep it down!” Nathan slumped into his chair, bright red.

“What is it?” Primus asked under his voice.

“Do you want to leave?”

Primus’ eyes lit up like a boy temped by his mother’s unmanned purse. “Wouldn’t that be dangerous?” he enquired with a badly-concealed longing.

Nate winked and said, “Depends on how loud you are.”

“I’m in!” he squealed effervescently. Nathan smiled and ushered with two fingers at the tiny, unprotected door out of the gymnasium. He raised three of his fingers for a count-down. Three, two, one. His final finger dropped, right after the boy dashed from his seat toward the door. Primus was right on his tail, a mad rush of adrenaline painted across his face. Nate grabbed the cool metal handle of the door and yanked it open, giving Primus milli-seconds to clamber through the threshold before slamming it.

“That was exhilarating,” Primus gasped through excited breaths.

“It’s not over yet. We still have to get away from here.”

Primus smiled and pointed silently along the corridor. “Follow me; I sort of know my way around this place.”

Nathan rolled his eyes, but crawled after the lancer anyway. “Don’t you need your lance?” he enquired.

“I have another in my dorm. But be quiet! Like you said, we have to get away.”

*

Nathan made a mental note to open every door he saw in the Dome. The room Primus had led him to housed a mountain. It was an ashen red, leathered in jagged edges, completely silent. An enormous sprawl of clouds clung to the veiled summit fiercely, giving the entire place an ominous feel. “Why’d you take me here?” Nathan asked.

“I thought we could hide for a while. Plus, my dorm's around here somewhere; I'm going to grab my lance."

OoC: There's more than a little bit of a homosexual vibe at the end of that xD.

OoC: Not a bad post. I actually quite liked it. Good job. ^_^

Assignment Time:

The mountains are vast and filled with massive number of dangers in them. Still, there is a clear cut path to where the mountains lead, although where that is is ill known. Time to be inventive and have a moderate journey with Primus and Nate. End your post with the two finding a massive glacier. 1000 word minimum, just as a test. Also, I want you to use 5 words to describe Nate instead of his name, since I notice you err towards his name a lot. Also you can use his name only seven times.