[Zorolo] Mael's Training Thread

The water parted at the helm of the Saol easily and gently, the stars dancing in the rippling stream. Mael shivered quietly. Unable to bear the cold any longer, he attempted to wrap his woollen cloak tighter around himself as the cool breeze bit at his exposed flesh.

He disliked travelling on the river at night. It was all too easy to nod off as the hours passed by and end up in a bend, or worse, barrelling into a rock. If that were to happen he'd be out of the easiest form of transportation at his disposal, which doubled as the best way to escape his father's goons. This brought him right back to the beginning of this whole distasteful affair.

Looking back, he wasn't quite sure when he had realized that he was being tailed. He hadn't quite expected Fiachu and his bunch to catch up to him so quickly, so it had come as a bit of a surprise when he found himself running down the streets of Saileográth towards the river harbour. He had uttered one too many curses to get away with a light penance – he would have to visit one of the Brothers of St. Padraig.

In the end, he hadn’t been entirely unlucky--Fiachu would have to hire a boatman, a crew, and rent a boat to catch up with him. They would more than likely be waiting at the next big stop up river … and perhaps even down it. They probably wouldn’t stop at the small farm that he would be dropping off at, just an hour up the stream.

They were one of the many “colonists” sent to Sasana with a small purse of silver and a piece of paper announcing that they owned a stretch of land. His father’s idea of subduing the Anglo-Normans by having them become Gaelic was great on paper, but Mael would be lucky if he saw the benefits of the action. His scowl increased when he reminded himself that he probably would have done the same thing, which only irritated him further.

He had met the Au Flaithris two years ago when he first left Eire. It was by no means his intention to play vigilante, that warm summer evening in the markets of Saileográth. In fact, he probably would have ignored the mugging of Corcc Au Flaithri, like many of the other people in that alley, if he hadn’t have shouted out in Gaelic for help. He was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of duty to protect one of his citizens and his fellow man, muttering quiet curses at himself. Shillelagh in hand, he jumped the man’s two assailants from behind.

Naturally, he was surprised to feel a sharp piercing pain hit him in his lower back. He hadn’t anticipated a third participant, observing from afar and waiting to see if someone would react. Or perhaps he was just a bystander thinking to take advantage of the situation. In any event, if it hadn’t been for Corcc’s quick reaction as Mael crumbled to the ground, the two would most likely have been slaughtered. Mael distinctly remembered criticizing Corcc for “using the shillelagh like a common club.” The man laughed at him, calling him crazy, and then the world went black.

Mael would spend the next night in an Eagnaí’s house, in a cold sweat as she stitched his wound shut. It took several tries before it stayed closed. Mother Elise had said that it wasn’t likely that he would survive that night. Her rich, throaty voice still echoed in his head, “I’ve seen lesser wounds kill larger men, boy. You better count yourself lucky.” She was a formidable woman with a large bosom, which she apparently rested his head against while whispering soothing words as he cried out for his mother. He felt his cheeks become warm and red, a sharp contrast to the cold night.

The Au Flaithris were by no means a small family. Four sons and a daughter were a lot of mouths to feed, and when the Ard Rí offered acres of land based off of how large your family was, there was little surprise when they and many others like them left Eire in droves. The Ruathars left the Sasana holdings as shells of their former selves. That had been Mael’s doing, though he wasn’t proud of it. Killing innocent villagers and burning their homes and livelihoods was nothing to be proud of, but it was what needed to be done and it won the war.

It wouldn’t be long now before he hit their farm. Even in the dim moonlight, he was able to make out the familiar features of the land, most notably the large willow tree.

He slowed the wherry down as he counted the small inlets that farmers used to irrigate their farms. He turned into the fifth one. Mael then latched the torn rope to the small, discreet anchoring stone. Corcc had put it there for him, making it easier for him to stop off at the farm when he was just passing by.

He crept carefully along the edge of the field. The soft clucking of one of the many hens kept him alert. The hens would sleep once the whole farm shut down for the day. He might not have to wake anyone up tonight.

As he got to the front of the house, he noticed a light burning through the window at the front of the structure. He pressed his body against the door and tried to open it. A frown furrowed his brow when he found that it wouldn’t budge. He could think of plenty of reasons for the Au Flathris to lock their door at night, but they had never done so, despite his urges to the contrary. He heard movement from the opposite side of the door and a moment later felt the frame tremble.

“We don’t know anything about that boy you’re searching for, so leave us be,” the raspy voice of an older man said loudly.

“And what,” Mael said, “if he was outside your door?” He would have grinned if he didn’t know that trouble was afoot and that he was the cause of it. It did make him feel a bit mischievous. Any smile he could have mustered would have faded quickly when he saw the large hunting knife in Corcc’s hand as he opened the door. If he had taken to greeting his guests with a knife in hand, then things were not well.

“Boy, a good lot of people are looking for you and none of them good.” Corcc gave him an appraising look before telling him to get in the house. He had of late taken to talking to him as a father would a son – not that Mael’s father had ever shown much interest in the boy. He’d often give disapproving looks if Mael spoke of mischief he had caused or spoke of his most recent sortie to a tavern. Mael didn’t mind too much, as he didn’t have anyone to reprimand him enough as it was, but at times it did feel tiresome.

“How long ago did they come, then?” Mael asked quietly once they shut and barred the door.

“A day or two ago. Seeing as you only stopped by last week, you didn’t spend too long in Saileográth. That means that they’re beginning to keep tabs on you,” Corcc said, his brow bending down into a frown. He looked much older to Mael than he had only a week ago. His brown eyes seemed dimmer, his face more wrinkled, and his dark hair sprinkled with much more gray. Perhaps this had affected him badly, or perhaps Mael was just noticing now, but it scared him somewhat.

“I just need to spend the night here. You’ll be able to sell Saol for a good price and by then I’ll be long gone. I’ve spent too much time on the Avon. I’m thinking of going to Cymru for a while, or perhaps Eabhrac.” That would disappoint the boys. They loved Mael as though he was a part of the family. The youngest, Tuili, was even named after him.

“Aye, it’s probably for the best,” Corcc replied, looking at the ground for a moment, before looking back to Mael. Would he be disappointed too? “Go climb up into bed and I’ll see about taking you to the next town tomorrow. “
Having no disagreement with resting as much as he could before dawn broke; Mael quickly climbed the ladder to the loft where the boys’ large straw bed was. He dropped his satchel, cloak and pack onto the ground and tried to crawl into the bed while making the least noise as possible. He was fairly certain that he hadn’t woken anyone up, but when a small voice broke the silence asking if it was him, he silently cursed himself.

“Yes,” he whispered, back unsure which of the children asked.

“Are you going to teach me how to shoot with your bow tomorrow?” the voice yawned. So it was Seamas.

He bit his lip, unsure of how to respond. After a short silence he said that he would, and told the boy to go to bed. Mael was quick to follow the advice he had just given.
***


He woke a little after dawn and grabbed his things before climbing down the ladder. Corcc was sitting at the table that was set in the middle of the room.
“Thought you could leave without me noticing, eh? No worries with that. I get your meaning, but I don’t care for it. I said I’d take ye and I’m gonna. Eat something before you go rushing off.” It was then that Mael noticed that the table was laden with food. There was some bacon, eggs, and a loaf of bread.

He mustn’t have gotten any sleep since I got in, Mael thought guiltily.
He sat down at the table and began to slowly indulge in the meal prepared for him. It didn’t take long for him to increase his pace. He’d forgotten the last time he had had a proper meal. He hadn’t been able to have supper last night as he was chased out of Saileográth. The bread was a little dry, but he compensated by drinking water.

When he was done, he grabbed his things and went outside. The wagon was already hitched and ready to go. He walked up to the brown dun and carefully put his hand on its nose.

“You ready, then?” Corcc asked from behind him, catching him off guard. “’Cause if ye are, let’s get a rolling before they wake.”

Mael nodded his head and was quick to jump into the back of the wagon, while Corcc settled into the driver’s seat. Neither of them wanted the family to be disappointed. Mael hoped that Corcc would be able to convince Seamas it was just a dream. He didn’t say anything to him, however, and the man didn’t engage in any conversation himself. He found himself sitting with his back against the front of the wagon, in between several barrels. His eyelids slowly began to get heavy, even as they moved down the bumpy country lane.

The wagon gave a lunge before stopping. Mael almost jumped up to see what the matter was, but Crocc’s hand travelled back and smacked him down.

“Don’t let them see ye yet. We’ll have to break for it,” he whispered under his breath.

Mael scrunched down as small as he could and covered himself with his cloak. It wasn’t his best hiding job, but it would have to do. He heard horses approach the wagon and tried to make out how many there were. One … two … three ... There would probably be more, but that was all he could make out. With at least three, he wouldn’t be able to fight his way out, so he would have to make a run for it. His only problem would be escaping men on horses.
The steeds began to slow as they met the wagon.

“What are you doing here, old man?” a familiar oily voice asked. Fiachu.

“Is it a crime now, for a farmer to go into town?” Corcc asked.

“With a nearly empty wagon?”

“I’m going to buy some feed. I’ve run out earlier than I thought I would.”

There was silence for a moment, and Mael was unsure of what he was to do. His hand slid down to his knife, taking the handle tightly into his grip. He wasn’t above harming one of them, but he wouldn’t kill them if he could help it. Suddenly, the wagon lunged forward, nearly knocking Mael out of his squatting position. His hand left his knife, pulling off his cloak before standing up, a bit in order to look around. Fiachu and four of his men were trailing not far behind them.

“If you can do anything, now would be the time to do it,” Corcc called back. “They’ll be on us any minute.”

Mael frowned, staring at the riders, and then looked at his pack. He grimaced, realizing the only thing he could do was pick up his bow. He got down on his knee and pulled an arrow out of his quiver where it sat on the cart floor, and began snapping off the metal heads under his foot. He wouldn’t mind doing it half as much had he not bought them just a week ago.
After he had a handful of broken arrows he took one up, nocking his bow and aiming at the closest rider. He pulled the drawstring as far back as he could muster before letting it go. The man’s cry of pain was all the indication Mael needed before nocking his bow a second time. They were much closer now, undeterred that he was firing on them. Letting his second go, he swore as he missed the man by half an inch. He hadn’t realized the road was inclining now to his right. His third shot hit the man in the arm, right at the elbow.

“Sharp turn!” Corcc shouted gruffly, trying to keep the horse running at its breakneck speed. Mael braced himself as the wagon slowed for a moment and then spun on a deadly angle. This time he was knocked off of his feet, sent crashing to the cart floor and knocking his head on the side of it. He growled and got back up, ignoring the pain in his forehead. He needed to at least slow the last three of them, and they were almost parallel to the wagon now.

His arrows were knocked about, forcing him to dance around for a fourth one. This would have to count, or it was the end for them. He pulled back the drawstring, this time aiming for the man’s side. It achieved the desired result instantly, the broken arrow piercing the man’s side; he roared in pain, his horse quickly slowing before coming to stop.

Fiachu and his other man were on either side of the wagon now. Mael watched both of them as he waited to see what they would do. When it seemed that they were intent on just getting to the front of the wagon, he decided to act. He quickly gathered up all his pack and cloak, putting them on his back, and then wrapping the bow around his shoulder.

The cart was going much slower now; if he didn’t act quickly he’d be caught. Looking back, another man was racing to meet them; the way he held his arm indicated that it had probably been the first man he had shot. The two men were on either side of the cart and almost at the driver’s seat. Mael took his shillelagh from his belt and perched a foot onto the left corner of the cart. It was hard to keep his balance on the precarious edge.

The man, who was riding rather close, didn’t even notice Mael as he brought the cudgel down into his head. He fell from his horse like a dead weight, leaving Mael an empty saddle.

He winced in pain as he landed very roughly and very awkwardly in the saddle. He took a minute to rearrange his position on it. Satisfied, or as satisfied as one could be with bruised thighs on a moving horse, he began to stir the latter on so he would be able to show Corcc he could stop pushing the cart horse to death. He whistled several times to get old man’s attention.

When he finally did turn back to look at Mael, he grinned for a moment before slowing the cart down … and sharply turning almost right into Fiachu. What was the fool man thinking? Was he trying to get himself killed? Mael looked back at them and debated whether or not to go back and see if Corcc was alright, but soon enough the stupid man was standing up. Mael mumbled curses as he continued up the road. Fiachu might have been slowed down but Mael wasn’t safe yet. Another rider had joined the hunt.

This road went for miles from Saileográth to Sleabhacsír, plenty of space for him to hide for a couple days. He just needed to find the right spot.

He tried to pace the horse a bit, if only to keep it fast enough to keep his bit of a lead. If he ran the poor horse anymore he would run it to death. He had the road to himself as it was still too early for any farmers to be making their way into town, but as he got closer to the fork, a group of men came into view, standing there as if waiting.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he cursed under his breath. If they weren’t goddamn chasing him they were goddamn waiting for him. The horse whinnied under him as if chastising him. “Oh shut up,” Mael snapped, “I’m tired of having to run from your masters, tell them to just leave me the hell alone.” He sighed realizing he was taking out his frustration on the animal and slowly rubbed its neck as he began to study the surrounding landscape. There was nothing in sight other than some pockets of trees between farmer’s fields and hills. He’d just have to try and push past them.

As he neared them group he began to push the horse on, hurrying it to go faster. Gritting his teeth as he feared he wouldn’t be able to push past. They had more than noticed him and were now preparing to try and stop him. He reached down to his belt and pulled off his shillelagh once more and held it ready to hit the closest man. He would never get the chance to hit the man though.

As he neared them the men brought up long wooden spears and held them up at a deadly angle for the horse. It reared on its hind legs in fear, throwing Mael from its back. He tumbled to the ground gasping as his breath was knocked from him. He struggled to his feet and broke off into a run into the field with his assailants close behind.

He had never in the last 2 years been so close to being caught. Never before this had they been so prepared and it caught him off guard. He had, stupidly, thought that Fiachu would never think about using his brain to try and catch him and if he had been trying to play Mael into thinking that he had done quite the job.

His chest seemed to grow heavier with every breath as he tore long stalks of wheat from his line of sight. He wouldn’t be able to keep his pace for much longer and if he tried he knew he would collapse. The feeling of desperation formed a new knot in his stomach beneath the feeling of the need to vomit. He needed to think, to find a solution to calmly find a way out of this but his mind was too jumbled to think right. He broke direction, beginning to run toward where the road would be. He didn’t care if it gave them the advantage, he just wanted to see, wanted to be able to breathe.

Every minute of his sprite seemed to pass by like an hour, a never ending chase, which he feared he would lose. Charging through what was surprisingly the last row of wheat he stopped momentarily and stared at what laid before him. In that second was a single moment of clarity, a single thought that offered a way out, a solution.

Before him was a clear pasture with some grazing sheep, but in the middle of it was a large stone circle. That moment of clarity, that revelation pointed him to it and he ran at as fast as he could towards it. It wouldn’t be are real shelter against the party of men hunting him unless they were superstitious. Shoving his way through the herd of sheep he continued running until he stood in what was the first ring of the stones. He stood there panting for a moment but even as he began to laugh.

He turned and rested his back against the closest stone and slowly slid down it. As he sat there he felt something wet falling down his cheeks. As he put his hand to his face, he realized he was crying.

Looking out between the holes in his stone defence he saw that his “friends” had finally caught up to him, but were staring from a safe distance. A hiccup interrupted his laughter and he brought the sleeve of his shirt to his face, wiping it dry. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself from his fit, as he watched the men outside. There seemed to be some sort of a dispute between Fiachu and his men. One of them would shout at Fiachu and then Fiachu would yell back. They went back and forth like this for quite some time before Fiachu threw his arms up in the air and began to stalk towards Mael.

His steps were short and careful and the closer he would get to the circle, the shorter his strides became. Mael slowly and unsteadily got to his feet using the large stone behind him for support. Wobbling slowly toward the opening, he placed a hand on the stone and glared out at the man, who was within spitting distance of him.
“Boy, you’ve lost. Just give up and come with us,” Fiachu said roughly.

Mael took another shallow breath. “If I’ve lost then come and take me.”

“You’d already be in a cart to Cymru, if my men weren’t lily-livered cowards. They think you’re crazed, or cursed or some other nonsense.”

“Then it will be a cold day in hell before I walk out of this circle and give myself up to you.”

Turning to go back in, he didn’t see the snarl that covered Fiachu’s face, though he didn’t miss it in his tone. “Just think boy,” he growled at Mael’s back, causing him to pause in his walk, “about how long it will take for your hunger and thirst to drive you out. Your father may not want what’s left of you.”

Standing very still, Mael thought about what Fiachu said. Mael wouldn’t leave this circle by choice and Fiachu wouldn’t come in until he was dead sure he wasn’t going to be clubbed in the head for trying to steal Mael away. That could be quite a bit of time away.

None of that matters. If this was my choice the day I left, then so be it.

He slowly and carefully made his way into the center of the stone circle. He lay down against the largest of the stone pillars left standing and tried to push the thought of Fiachu and his father out of his mind. Though much of the stones were still intact many had sadly fallen, marring the beauty of the stone structure. Mael could only guess what the building was used for however long ago it was in use.

It would have had to be important for them to drag all this stone from who knows how far away…

He slowly ran his hand along the eroded stone that weathered centuries of wind, rain and snow. “I’d just like to get out of here," he sighed to himself. The world went black and he heard himself scream as he fell headlong into emptiness.

--

There were a couple of parts where I really had to force myself to write this. Probably never going to make one this large ever again. Hopefully >__>

There were a few parts where I hesitated to put in the character history and in one spot at least it seems a bit lengthy. I decided against calling the shillelagh the Irisher term just for the sake of the reader. I've enough crazy words in there to throw you off with.

You're writing's freaking excellent. So I'm just going to be as nitpicky as I can.

“A day or two ago. Seeing as you only stopped by last week, you didn’t spend too long in Saileográth. That means that they’re beginning to keep tabs on you,” Corcc said. his brow bending down into a frown.

Comma instead of period, there.

He sat down at the table and began to slowly indulge in the meal prepared for him, It didn’t take long for him to increase his pace. He’d forgotten the last time he had had a proper meal. He hadn’t been able to have supper last night as he was chased out of Saileográth. The bread was a little dry, but he compensated by drinking water.

Period instead of comma. xP

Mael scrunched down as small as he could and covered himself with his cloak. It wasn’t his best hiding job, but it would have to do. He heard horses approach the wagon and tried to make out how many there were. 1 … 2 … 3 ... There would probably be more, but that was all he could make out. With at least three, he wouldn’t be able to fight his way out, so he would have to make a run for it. His only problem would be escaping men on horses.

***

“Sharp turn!” Corcc shouted gruffly, trying to keep the horse running at its breakneck speed. Mael braced himself as the wagon slowed for a moment and then spun on a 40 degree angle. This time he was knocked off of his feet, sent crashing to the cart floor and knocking his head on the side of it. He growled and got back up, ignoring the pain in his forehead. He needed to at least slow the last three of them, and they were almost parallel to the wagon now.

Okay... this is just personal preference here, but... You should avoid using numerals instead of words UNLESS the word for the number is more than two words.

And about the "angle" part, it's sticks out to me... like the writer is trying to be too specific. You could try something like "dangerous angle" or just "an angle".

Looking out between the holes in his stone defence he saw that his “friends: had finally caught up to him but were staring from a safe distance. A hiccup interrupted his laughter and he brought the sleeve of his shirt to his face, whipping it dry. Taking a deep breath he tried to calm himself from his fit, as he watched the men outside. There seemed to be some sort of a dispute between Fiachu and his men. On of them was shouting at Fiachu and then Fiachu would yell back. They went back and forth like this for quite some time before Fiachu threw his arms up in the air and began to stalk towards Mael.

"defense"

I think you meant to have another " after "friends" xP

Comma between "him" and "but".

"whipping" should be "wiping"

Comma between "breath" and "he". No comma is needed after "fit". x3

In the bold sentence: "On" should be "one". And I think there's a tense error here; it should read something like:

"One of them would shout at Fiachu and then Fiachu would yell back."

“Boy, you’ve lost just give up and come with us,” Fiachu said roughly.

You could put a period there. x3

“You’d already be in a cart to Cymru, if my men weren’t lily-livered cowardice. They think you’re crazed, or cursed or some other nonsense.”

"cowardice" or "cowards"?

“Then it will be a cold day in hell, before I walk out of this circle and give myself up to you.”

No comma needed between "hell" and "before".

Turning to go back in he didn’t see the snarl that covered Fiachu’s face, though he didn’t miss it in his tone. “Just think boy,” he growled at Mael’s back causing him to pause in his walk, “about how long it will take for your hunger and thirst to drive you out. Your father may not want what’s left of you.”

First part could be improved if you put a comma between "in" and "he".

OR if you rewrite the thing entirely:

"He didn't see the snarl that covered Fiachu's face as he turned to go back in"

Comma between "back" and "causing".



I think that's it. There was some more, I wrote about, but ZU burped and I lost the post << But these are the main ones. Seriously; your writing is great! Just tiny errors, why are you here? x3 unless you need work in character interaction We'll see when I get off my lazy butt and give you an assignment, I'll put that right here.

Don't flatter me my ego is large enough. Though you won't believe how long that took me to write :@

And I have a really good editory person. Who I owe a work for actually. >__>

I made the fixes, so whenever you're ready (H)

Assignment 1:

Okay... have him land in an underground cavern with a single, dim-ish light source from above. The floor of this cavern is filled with flowers from wall to wall, even in the dark areas. These are flowers that Mael has never seen before, or smelled. You can describe those. Now, after a while, a silver eagle with green eyes will appear and attempt to get Mael to follow it out through the cave and into a room in the Dome. You're in total control of the eagle, here. You can make it angry, make it peck--anything to get Mael moving.

The room he comes out in can be any room--the cafeteria, a hallway, any where you please. 300 word minimum.

I think that'll do for a start. You'll see what the silver eagle is about later.

Mael awoke with a groan. There was a dull pain in his back, as though he’d been lying on it for too long. He rolled over and rose to his feet, trying to catch his bearings. He needed to remember what had happened. It was dark … had he fallen asleep?

As he looked around, he realized he was in some sort of cave. The ceiling was high, though it seemed to get lower as the room went on, and the only light shone through a small hole in the roof. He slowly moved towards the light source, gazing up at it and wondering if he had somehow fallen through it. It was the only way to explain how he had ended up in here.

“Hello?” Mael shouted at it, blocking his eyes from the light. “Can anyone hear me?”

He waited for a moment, but when nothing happened, he turned away, disheartened. He plopped himself back down onto the ground and stared out into the dark room glumly. Who knew how long he would be stuck down there? He wondered if it would be better to explore the cave, to make himself comfortable, or if he should pull out his knife. He didn’t know what was waiting for him out in the darkness.

However, his eyes slowly adjusted to the shadows, and he began to see the cavernous hall more clearly. Something sitting just beyond the edge of the light confused him, forcing him to investigate. As he neared the edge of the ring of light, he found that his eyes didn’t deceive him.

He knelt down beside the beautiful blue flower, staring at it in disbelief. How was a flower growing underground? The petals were long and had spidery veins going through them, which were a darker blue than the rest of the petals. He’d never seen anything like it before.

Putting his knife back into its sheath, he carefully put his hand on the base of the plant and used his other to uproot it at the stem. Carefully bringing it to his nose, he thought it smelled like a mild cross between rosemary and mint. He stood up, putting the flower into his satchel, and looked ahead. He saw that the entire floor was covered with beautiful flowers save for where a few stalagmites rose up from the ground.

He waded through the sea of flowers, each of them rising past his ankles, and he went deeper into the blackness of the cavern. He kept going, trying not to crush too many of the plants until he reached the edge of his comfort level and stopped, squinting in order to see further. Sighing at the hopelessness of his situation, he turned back and started heading back to the light.

But he stopped dead in his tracks. Sitting atop one of the stalagmites was a large, silver bird. An eagle? He’d never actually seen one before. The closest he had seen to the real thing was an old Roman Aquila, which had been passed down by the ancestors of his family. Still, if he’d ever seen a bird, that was an eagle it was that … but he had never heard of a silver bird before.

It pecked at its feathers as though it had more important things to do than be here. As if I don’t, bird. He started trudging forward, but was shocked to hear the bird screech. He looked up at it, and saw that its wings were spread wide as though a warning not to go any further. He tried glaring it down for a moment, but this didn’t seem to do anything other than waste time.

Wary of the large bird, he moved forward slowly, with his hand on the hilt of his knife. After a couple of feet, the bird let out another shriek spreading its wings to their full length. Mael gulped and took another step forward, eyeing it warily.

It fell from its perch and gracefully caught itself in the air and dived. Right at Mael. He instinctively threw his arms up, protecting his eyes from the dive-bombing bird. A rush of feathers in front of his face caused him to almost fall back in shock, as sharp talons clawed at his arms, and the bird occasionally stopped to attempt pecking at the top of his head.

Mael gritted his teeth as talon tore skin, leaving shallow marks on his arms. He tried to wave off the bird. He needed to get away from this stupid thing; it didn’t matter where, he just had to run!

He turned away from the eagle and darted back into the blackness, arms over his head. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, hearing on occasion the rustle of feathers, alerting him to the fact that the bird was still chasing him.

He couldn’t see where he was running now, though the flowers slowed his progress. Everything was black, and he lost himself trying to determine if he was running in circles or a straight line.

Suddenly he saw a bright light at the end of the dark tunnel. He ran toward it, praying for sanctuary from the crazed bird, and hopefully a way out of this damned subterranean hell. He was blinded momentarily as the light shone bright into his eyes.

Mael was standing in an ornate, marble corridor. Thick and richly-embroidered red carpets lined the floor, and every so often a brilliantly-carved column would adorn the walls. He looked around in disbelief at the room, taking another step into it. Of course. Why didn’t I think of leaving the dark, damp cave for a beautiful palace hallway?

Panting, he took another step forward, when a door slammed shut behind him. He turned, staring at the shut door. After a moment, he jumped at it, slamming his fists into the marble.

“Let me out!” Mael shouted, not quite sure who he was shouting at. That cave was closer to being at home than here, though.

After a few minutes of pointless drumming on the door, he tired and stopped. Something wet slowly trickled down his forehead, which he wiped away with the back of his hand. Blood.That bird must have gotten a few better pecks in than he had thought. He looked at his arms and grimaced. His shirt was torn in enough places that it would be more trouble to mend it than to buy a new one.

First I wake up in some sort of flowery hell, then that blasted bird attacks me, and now this. When will this nightmare end?

But he stopped dead in his tracks. Sitting atop one of the stalagmites was a large, silver bird. An eagle? He’d never actually seen one before. The closest he had seen to the real thing was an old Roman Aquila, which had been passed down by the ancestors of his family. Still, if he’d ever seen a bird, that was an eagle it was that … but he had never heard of a silver bird before.

That comma between “bird” and “that” should instead, be placed between “eagle” and “it”.

Wary of the large bird, he moved forward slowly, with his hand on the hilt of his knife. After a couple of feet, the bird let out another shriek spreading its wings to their full length. Mael gulped and took another step forward, eyeing it warily.

No comma between “slowly” and “with”. But a comma should be between “shriek” and “spreading”.


I think that’s it! Don’t bother to edit it in. These are just minor errors :3 We’re just fine tuning, now.

Now... let’s see what my bag of tricks has in store for Mael. Have a messenger arrive and offer to heal Mael before offering to lead him to his room. Mael can refuse or accept these offers, it’s entirely up to him. The other hallways and rooms he’s led through should vary from one another, and can have some odd twists and turns if you like.

Also, make the messenger interesting. Make him really unorthodox; have him draped in shadows, made out of crystal or water. Make him psychotic, have split personalities—anything. Dress him up in a bear suit for all I care. X3 Just make him odd and interesting.

Should Mael refuse the messenger’s offers and wanders around alone, make him stumble upon his room eventually. As for the room, it could be and have anything that you want. This is where I want you to delve deep into detail. I want to *see* the room, and I want to see what Mael thinks about it. This’ll be his room for the rest of the training.

After that, have him receive a letter from the messenger (make him/her reappear if Mael refuses the offers) telling him little information about his new teacher. Again, 300 word minimum.


As for his teacher, read up on Raisha (second in the first post) to get to know her better. :3

“Sir?” Came a crisp voice that seemed to come from all around him.

Mael looked from side to side, trying to discover the source of the disembodied voice. “Sir?” the voice asked again, this time Mael could locate the speaker. From behind the nearest pillar stood a short balding man.

Mael was put off by his pale sickly skin and the dark rings surrounding his sunken eyes. He raised a frail looking arm, in a sort of greeting and Mael repeated it, trying to be polite.

The destitute man smiled at the gesture revealing a few lonely teeth. His attention seemed to be drawn to Mael’s forehead, focused on the thin trail of blood that trickled down it. He grabbed Mael’s arms, yanking him forward, carefully examining his arms. His face furrowed into a snarl as he glared at the claw marks left by the bird.

For a moment the man’s head jerked to the right and a snarling voice muttered something about “bigga bird.” This sudden change in personality and speech startled and scared Mael. He tried to pull his arms away gently but the man held tight. Then just as quickly the voice vanished, replaced by the cool, ageless voice seemingly trying to sooth the other voice.

Still firmly holding onto Mael’s arms, the stranger motioned at them with his head. “Shall I help you with these?”

Mael studied the features of the other man’s face nervously. The cool voice seemed to be dominant for now … but for how long and how much control did he really have? But the dreaded though of infection overpowered his more immediate fear of this man or his apparent other self.

He sighed, glumly and nodded his head, hoping they would have to travel a long distance to retrieve bandages and herbs for a poultice. But the man made not motion as if to start leading Mael to a room, where they could find these, nor did he immediately let go of Mael’s arms.

Slowly he released them though, much to Mael’s relief, though he still made no motion to move. Instead his hands rose up over the wounds on Mael’s arms, palms facing downward at them, slowly shutting his eyes and spreading his fingers. It was intriguing and frightening at the same time, catching Mael’s curiosity. What is this? Some sort of ritual?

Suddenly a cold feeling spread up his arms, as though ice was forming on the back of them. Staring down at the Mael watched as the small gashes scattered across his arms slowly, faded from view leaving only clean unmarked skin and the small, nipping pain dissipated. Soon the feeling began to spread up his arms, but Mael yanked his arms away from under the stranger’s hands.

Mael stared in horror at the other man. What devilry was this, which removed injury and pain in little more than a moment? The man didn’t show any response to this sudden confusion and revulsion though, seeming entirely disinterested.

After a few moments the man turned from him and began to walk down the hallway. Mael watched his back for a few moments before nervously following the stranger. Whatever he is or did he didn’t harm me … it would be best to stay close to this friend, if he could be called that, than whatever foes might lurk in the shadowed halls and rooms of this place.

As they slowly walked through the seemingly endless maze of halls and doors, which seemed to turn … or perhaps twist, would be a better term. Things would move from their original positions if you turned your attention from them for more than a moment. Sometimes they would move closer, other times farther and sometimes still they would vanish altogether. If his guide noticed this, he didn’t show any concern over it.

And soon the man stopped, turning to stare at Mael. He looked around, then back at the man inquisitively. Why had they stopped here? The man just stood there watching him as if awaiting him to do something. Mael glared back at the man and for quite sometime the stood there staring at each other.

Mael’s patience, however, didn’t last quite as long as the other man’s. “Why have you stopped here?” Mael finally asked, quietly.

“Because we are here,” the man responded flatly.

“And where would that be?” Mael demanded, hands tightening into fists as his irritation grew.

“Your room, of course.”

Mael watched the other man for a moment warily. Room? Why was there a room for him? Who exactly was this person and why did they expect him to stay?

“And why would I need a room? I have no intention of staring here any longer than necessary.”

The man reacted to this with a flick of the head, and suddenly baring his teeth again. Mael took a step back, slowly sliding a hand into his cloak gripping the handle of his knife. The other man seemed to take a more offensive stance, curling into himself like as snake poised to strike.

“Ungrateful,” it snarled, “not worth it.”

Mael was taken aback by the re-emergence of the snarling man. Why had triggered him to come out this time? Mael bit the inside of his lip as he watched the man have a silent argument with himself, occasionally vocalizing part he felt more passionately about.

He hoped the cool voice won again. Just the thought of having to deal with Snarler made him cringe. It seemed unpredictable, unstable even. Mael was almost sure that id he, said something wrong to it, it would attack him.

After a few minutes, the man seemed to finish his argument with himself, though Mael had no way of telling which man had won. His expression was mixed, one half rage, the opposite disinterest.

“You accepted the offer when you followed us.”

The man’s voice was more unsettling than the overall expression cast by him. Both voices spoke in unison, as though two different people were reciting the words together.

“I did-“

“You could have left us. You could have looked for an exit, yet instead you followed. Or do you deny this?”

Mael opened his mouth to argue the point, but his words failed him. He had followed them. Well, it wasn’t as though they were forcing him to stay right? They just wanted to make sure his room was up to his standard.

He opened the door and stood there taking in the room. There was nothing impressive in it, nothing that was dominant; it all just fit together neatly like a puzzle.

There was a bed in the far corner, a stone fireplace along the adjacent wall. A chest sat at the end of the bed and in the middle of the room was a table and several chairs. In the far corner sat a small basin and above it a mirror. Observing all this with a curt nod, Mael was satisfied, confident that the room would suit his needs.

He left the door frame, walking farther into the room. He placed his hand on the table and ran a finger along the edge, smearing the fine film of dust that covered it. The whole room seemed to be covered in it.

“We expected you a little sooner.”

The man stepped into the door frame, though he did not pass the threshold. He held something out toward Mael. “Here,” he said, calmly handing it to Mael, when he got close enough to take it. “It may tell you more about us.”

Hello!

You have been admitted to training here at the Dome. Your instructor shall be Raisha Seraph, a vizard. A vizard is a soulreaper who has undergone the hollowfication process only to remove their mask, a process that increases their power exponentially.

She is able to replicate others techniques just by viewing them, able to alter her weight with a thought and possess a powerful array of magic. She is a highly skilled fighter and we expect you should do well under her tutelage.

Best of luck.


What a pointless letter. It left him with no answers and only more questions. Obviously he was in this “Dome” place, which still gave him no idea as to where he was and he was here for “training” of some sort. But who exactly is “we?” Why were they expecting him? And who exactly is this Raisha?
__________________
Blech. Hit a rut right after righting that last one. Took me until now to finish this. Which is unfortunate seeing as I have at least three other things I should be writing. @_@

I'll probably look this over and edit it a little later, but I'm as likely to not do so as well, so smash away.

A couple of notes:
I haven’t looked this over. At all. RAW TEXT. Prepare for the death of grammoar.

I wanted Mael to follow the guide, but I didn’t want him to have to be directly asked by him, because Mael would have probably said no. This way, Mael made the decision and at the same time I was happy with it. :3

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to have the letter signed from Raisha or not so it’s unsigned. And I wasn't exactly sure HOW much information someone else would know about her. Or how much was public knowledge. So yeah. Bad letter.

You will probably need to convince Mael, he needs training. Though I doubt that will be hard.

The letter was perfectly fine x3 It’s my fault, I should’ve left more information. I won’t go through the mistakes since they were extremely minor. Your writing is good as I said x3 only minor tweaks needed.

Now time for him to meet his teacher.

Have Mael’s new friend guide him through twisted corridors. At this point, just express yourself and unleash your imagination on the Dome’s magic and magical properties. Corridors could be twisted, made of wood, vines, grass, light, transparentandyoucouldseetheocean(orlava)underneat h, whatever.

After all that, he’s guided to a massive library. There are books from the floor to the ceiling and it even has a second floor. The door is locked behind him when he enters. Now, as always, the Dome’s magic is present here, so... you know, spice it up a bit. At the center, sitting in lotus position on a table is Raisha, reading a book. For now, she won’t say anything, but have her seem like she’s ignoring Mael and just flipping pages, continuing to read.

...I gotta think up stuff better than this.

His breath stopped as something slithered along his leg, wrapping around it tight, hidden by the murky waters below him. The few moments that it held his leg in a coil grip seemed like hours before it finally released him. He suppressed a sigh of relief as he watched whatever it had been slide away occasionally bouncing out of the water.

And yet his guide did nothing to indicate that he recognized that Mael had stopped other than slow his swift swivel. He didn’t know how the man could walk so calmly through this jungle, without batting an eye. They might still be in this ‘Dome’ but there were swarms of bugs and between the trees Mael would notice pairs of eyes staring back at him.

The man said that it was all the magic of the Dome and that they had nothing to worry about provided they were not in an area they were not suppose to be. For some reason though Mael was still wary of the things that slunk around in the shadows.

The man had only stopped once during their entire trip in a hallway of ice and snow.

The sudden change in temperature alarmed him, as he pulled his cloak closer to his skin. A dark pit formed in his stomach as he walked deeper into the hallway. At first he thought it had to do with the sudden temperature change but looking back he thought it was because of the room, because it had a feeling of familiarity.

He stopped in front of a door that looked more frosted over than the other doors, though there was nothing to really distinguish that from the others. It was simply a feeling he got when looking at it. He got closer to it to examine it and noticed a bit of carving under the layers of encrusted snow and ice. Mael grabbed up a bit of his cloak and wrapping it around his arm, he raised it to try and use it to clear away the coat of snow, but a hand grabbed him by the wrist. Startled, he turned and saw that it was the small man that had affronted him.

“You are not ready for that, Sir. Come we have much ground to cover.”

The man released him and began to continue on, Mael in trailing in tow. He glanced back at that door that called him before walking quickly after the strange little man.

The man suddenly stopped at a clump of trees and Mael stared at him for a few moments. “We are here Sir.” As large a hindrance as ever. He had to assume that this Seraph woman was here, not that there was anyone to see here. A bird squawked several times in the distance.

Mael examined the only clue he had to what the elusive man’s declaration was, the knot of trees they stopped at. He tried to walk through them, but the trees were too tight together. Hesitantly, he pushed an arm through the space between the trees and just beyond the tips of his fingers he felt something sitting there. Mael stretched his arm as far as it would go until it hurt and his fingers slid against wood. Not tree bark, but smooth polished wood.

He reached down lower and his fingers brushed metal. Mael frowned as he stretched again, on this pass his fingers catching on the metal and pushing it down and the knot of trees began to move forward catching Mael off guard.

As he stumbled into the room behind the door, the thick, humid air vanished and his feet sloshed onto what was now a beautiful green carpet. The room was huge, with high vaulted ceilings and walls covered in shelves upon shelves of books. He was standing in a library, one larger than any other he had been in, or indeed ever heard of.

Slowly, cautiously, he walked towards the bank of books on his left, fearing any traps or strange creatures hidden from view, but driven by insatiable curiosity. After a few moments he glanced around feeling relatively safe in the quiet confines of the athenaeum, he forced himself to casually peruse the spines of the books nestled in the shelves. Fear withheld him from actually removing a book from its designated spot, but he ran his fingers down the leather bindings, feeling the worn and sometimes disintegrating covers.

Many of the tomes were written in a foreign runic script that he had never seen before, though some were written in alphabets similar to the Latin one. The few he could read were focused on magic, which led him to believe that the others in the place bore similar topics.

Slowly he walked around the hallowed halls, exploring their depths, not daring to touch their contents but all the while being intrigued by them. From time to time he would happen across clusters of chairs and tables, presumably for studying the books. The place was truly magnificent; it had books from places he never heard of on every subject. He wished he could spend time studying there – he could spend an eternity reading through the texts hidden away there.

An hour or so after he first entered, he heard the first noise he didn’t create in the library his hand quickly flourishing his knife, glaring around trying to determine the source of the noise. Carefully he began to walk quickly through the aisles of shelves, trying to find where the noise had come from. As his anxiety began to build, he began to run uncertain whether or not he was running right into a trap, not caring, simply determined to discover the noise’s source.

He turned around a pillar and stopped as he found what he thought was the origin of the noise.

A girl, no a woman, a beautiful woman, sat on a table, her shoulder length blonde hair, hung down around her face as she examined the book in front of her. Another pile of them sat to her side.

She sat in the middle of the table with her legs crossed, feet facing upwards. She didn’t acknowledge him; she simply continued reading the large book sitting in front of her. He approached her cautiously; he didn’t trust anything in the Dome, even a woman studying a book.

He stood in front of the table trying not to stare at her, unsure of how to catch her attention. He let some time pass hoping she would address him after finishing her page, but she soon licked her finger, and turned to the next page of her book. He cleared his throat, trying not to be too intrusive when doing so and spoke up. “Excuse me, I am Mael-tuili, are you Mistress Seraph?”

And she still did not respond. Mael forced his face to remain unruffled though he felt a twinge of anger, which he quickly suppressed. He was sure the woman had a good reason for ignoring him he’d just have to wait until she was ready.

He removed his pack from his back, hanging it on the back of a chair and pulled out the chair. He used it to step up on the table, and he sat down sitting awkwardly on the table, his bottom at the edge of it and she just sat there flipping pages, her eyes slowly moving back and forth as she took in the knowledge on the parchment in front of her.

He rested his head in his hands, propped up on his knees. Hopefully she wouldn't take too long.