[Safer] Arman Solomon's Training

OoC: Sorry it's kinda long. But that's how I like it.

BiC: The Foreigner walked the crowded streets of Acre in a shamed rage. The blinding light of the midday Middle-Eastern sun turned the yellow dirt that was the street into path of light, while men shouted in Arabic for sales. At the end of the dusty road sat a bazaar cloaked ominously in shadows. A large, hairy man with great forearms leaned onto the counter watching the isolated stranger walk stubbornly in pace as if he was hurrying to get away from something.
The Foreigner approached, lowering himself under the tent-cover and looked around with an expression of disgust he didn’t show. He spoke quickly and to the point as if he had been planning what to say while walking down the banner of light, “I’m looking for the Palace of Guards.” The bazaar man looked quizzically at him shrugging his shoulders; the universal sign of “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” This time the stranger tilted his head up, bound by thought; he snapped his fingers and pointed at the man, “Français?” Now the man smiled with his non-existent teeth and nodded happily.
The stranger gave a sarcastic but unobvious “Ha-ha!” back. Again he spoke, but with the understanding of the man, “Je cherche le palais de gardes?” This he said slowly, trying to comprehend his own words. The man replied with directions and again smiled, pinkish gums touching. “Thanks,” said the stranger, trying to translate and remember the directions. “Here,” he added, throwing some coins “Buy some teeth.”
As the Foreigner walked left, down the street the bazaar man continued to smile, trying to tuck away the thoughts of his boring and uneventful day.

The Foreigner now approached the gate of the Palace of Guards. He thought satirically how all of the buildings looked the same, and how he might have passed it before. There was only a lone guard, as the gate was small. The stranger awkwardly approached the guard and said, “I need to see the captain… Damn. Je dois voir le capitaine.” The guard said something in an exotic language only agitating the stranger. “Français,” he said. The guard stopped, glaring, and asked for his identity. “Tell the capitaine that Arman Solomon is here to see him.”

Now instead of the dusty roads outside, Arman walked the elegant marble floors of the newly rebuilt Palace of Guards. Apparently, there had been a coup within the old guard; the Sultan had them executed and demanded another establishment of building and men. These were side thoughts however; Arman could only think of damned India (the girl not the country). She had to be so stuck-up about her female identity. Arman had simply, if stupidly, opened a discussion on politics around her; a very bad thing to do. She studied politics at the Academy but had been kicked out by her male teachers for being a woman. She abandoned male politics and created a creed of her own.
The escort passed around the corner on the balcony above an eloquent fountain. As Arman could only communicate with French, the second language of most people, as it had been the main talk of their long gone conquerors, he refrained from speaking. India had kicked him out of his own Command Post and locked the door; and his cowardly brother, Virgil, did nothing to stop it, even amusedly smiling at one point. She was such a… woman some times. He loved her however and it showed. Arman was suddenly broken from his daze by a servant. He said actually in Kaono, “The captain will see you now Mr. Solomon.” The servant smiled, opening the door.
The large room was lined with the finest guards, the captain sitting at the far end of the slightly dim room, on a throne like a king, beckoning to Arman. Arman approached like a business man, smiling, hand extended, but was welcomed with cold eyes which he returned, lowering his hand. “You men are obviously serious, not the naïve country folk I sometimes meet. As you know Kaono has produced some of the finest military and political leaders in the world. I have experience in the Army, and under the teachings of Danillus the Defender I have mastered the art you seek. I understand you need a guard system thoroughly set up and fortifications revamped under the Sultans orders. You will have a great impression on him if you hire me; I guarantee it.” Arman’s effective speaking stunned the captain and the hunched, old man next to him. Arman did not mind his company, and continued trying to entice his employers. “I see that you men have made your decision,” he said smiling, “We can talk prices but first let me notify my team of the contract.” Arman flattered them with his willingness to start the contract before pricing.
Arman then pulled an amulet from under his shirt, which caught the eye of the captain. He put the teal stone on the chain to his mouth and said as nicely as he could muster, “India we’ve got the contract, so ship the supplies, and notify Virgil.” Then as quietly as he could he muttered, “I’m sorry I insulted your, but right now I need you. Please.” He waited for a few long moments and smiled, embarrassed. A reply crackled back, “You got it Arman. Virgil is notified and the contract is logged.” Arman now relieved noticed the captain watching his amulet. “Captain? Hello?” The captain looked him in the eye, inquiring on his amulet in a thickly accented version of Kaono. Arman replied that it was his comms amulet, and that it was magic, not mentioning his lack of understanding for it. It would look like a weakness.
“Is that for sale along with your contract? I will pay you double.” Arman thought this suspicious, readying to grab his sword. He told the captain that it was not for sale. The captain’s eye strangely twitched, provoking Armans desire to leave. Arman looked around and gave the captain his ultimatum; the original contract or nothing at all. The captain called his guards to arms with a shout, and Arman quickly unsheathed his sword surprising everyone with his speed. He noted how efficient the men were; they came to arms so quickly and now maintained a spread between them.
“Do not make a mistake Mr. Solomon. Hand over the amulet!” The captain shouted the last word, allowing Arman sufficient time to attack while the guards were thrown off balance; maybe they weren’t so perfect, just afraid. Arman hacked through the one in front of him then parried the guard to his right’s blow; he spun suddenly switching sword hands on the turn from right to left, bringing the sword around quicker than expected by the unlucky man. As the second guard fell the one on the left of the first guard jumped on Arman’s back.
“Kill that pig,” yelled the captain. Arman lay awestruck and dazed on the ground, after being hilt whipped on the head. As the guards drew back their weapons the old hunched man called for them to stop in perfect accent, if crackly.
“Let me see him,” The old man raised his hand paralyzing Arman, and then walked to him. “Look how he wields the ancient powers so obliviously. He deserves worse than death!” He looked at the captain who nodded smiling as if contemplating Arman’s custom death speech. Arman revealed angrily that he didn’t know the workings of the amulet
The elder now raised his hand tearing a searing hole into the earth which constantly made the sound of breaking glass. The guards, unknowing of what they were throwing him into, picked up Arman and heaved him near the edge. The captain now spoke (how right Arman had thought), “You see Mr. Solomon; we don’t understand our magic either. What we do know is that when we use our magic, our victims never come back!” He kicked him in. Arman could only scream through the shattering fall.

Arman awoke on a flat surface; it felt like glass but when he stood, his feet seemed to make impressions in it. Arman was totally shocked, “I’m dead! No!” At this he went to his knees, slightly sinking into the ethereal glass. Looking down and then up he saw that the surface of the glass substance floated in the sky; it was a clear day with clouds around and below him, the sun shining bright. When he looked behind him there was a door, very eloquent, and stenciled with golden plants. Arman approached it and saw that the gold was a marble block shaped like a door; it had a gold handle and Arman swept away the golden flora. At this he opened the door and stepped inside.

Welcome to the Intermediate Class. Everything was very good, you're definitely on the latter end of Intermediate. A few simple issues:

First off, when role playing (or, really, writing anything on the net) it is necessary to put a full two spaces in between paragraphs. A blank line should be in between paragraphs as opposed to a single punch of the enter key, which would simply stack the paragraphs on top of on another. Easy fix.

Secondly, it is a very big faux pas nowadays to use parentheses in prose. These can be used artistically, but for the sake of simplicity, don't use them.

Thirdly and most importantly, keep in mind that dialogue always has a paragraph of its own. For example:

Instead of:

The room was dimly lit, now. James had turned off the fan's light, Daniel could see, so all that was left was the calm glow of the lamp. It fit Daniel's mood, if anything. The world around him was spinning, he was so angry. "You're a liar and an idiot," he said. "I can' t believe you." James stood up and held his hands up. "What do you expect me to do?" James asked. Daniel shook his head. "There's nothing you can do. Not anymore." James turned around. "Fine!" he said. "Then get out!"

This is confusing. You can't tell who is speaking, half of the time.

Try:

The room was dimly lit, now. James had turned off the fan's light, Daniel could see, so all that was left was the calm glow of the lamp. It fit Daniel's mood, if anything. The world around him was spinning, he was so angry.

"You're a liar and an idiot," he said. "I can' t believe you." James stood up and held his hands up.

"What do you expect me to do?" James asked. Daniel shook his head.

"There's nothing you can do. Not anymore." James turned around.

"Fine!" he said. "Then get out!"

Notice how I've broken it up like this. When presented, each line of dialogue is brought down to its own separate paragraph. It keeps things clear.

It's all well and good. For your next assignment, have your character enter the Dome. At the entrence, he will meet a Domerii, a butler of the Dome. Domerii are small, pale-skinned, and humanoid. Have the Domerii explain to your character what the Dome is, why your character is here, and that your character will be taught by Orysius Solian. Then, have the Domerii lead your character to his (your character's) new room in the Dome. This part of the assignment will be an exercise for your dialogue skills.

When they arrive at the room, the Domerii should leave. The Dome knows the type of room each of its inhabitants would desire, and so it fills it with all of the necessary commodities and things that inhabitant would like. So, I want you to see your descriptive skills when your character enters his room. End the post after your character has become comfortable in his new room.

Looks good, man!

The door handle was warm with the grasp of a million souls as Arman turned it. When he opened the Door a small draft of warm air hit him. He stepped inside looking at his surroundings for anything that might tell him were he was. The hall he had entered was barren, but was a very interesting sight; its walls were mirrors, the ceiling was stone, and the floor was covered in a clean blue velvet carpet. The reflections on the wall extended on forever as did the hall, or so it seemed.

When Arman turned around, the marble door was gone from existence, replaced by a mirror wall. With no other choices and a mind full of questions, he set off down the hall. There were no doors and although the hall was dim there was no apparent light source. These observations came to Arman as he walked for hours on end. He once tried to shatter the mirror-wall but was only met with cracked glass that left a distorted image of himself, now fatigued and hungry.

Arman walked on, and for the first time saw a human silhouette, far down the hall. He started to slow down, but ended up running in fear, suddenly afraid the shadow would disappear. As Arman got closer, he could see that the man was tiny and very pale; not even in the faces of the newest recruits had Arman seen such paleness. The tiny man was also very old, as if he had shrunk with age. With an abrupt stop Arman approached the tiny man, by now he looked very stuck up, as though Arman had kept him waiting.

“Hello, Mr. Solomon. I’m sorry to judge your performance, but the rest usually arrive much quicker.” The tiny man spoke like he had known Arman for years, and with a witty accent. He opened on eye wider and glared, “Mr. Solomon?”

Arman was disturbed and puzzled by the attitude of the little herald. He replied with an almost angry tone, “Where the hell am I? How do you know my name?” There was a pause and Arman thought the elfish man expected him to know. “Speak!” exclaimed Arman.

“Oh yes, yes. I’m sorry. So many years behind me and I forget proper manners!” With his last remark he chuckled. “I am Krone, butler and servant by birth, of the Dome. I am a Domerii; the race chosen to service the Dome’s needs and greet its newest guests. I do presume I am speaking your human language,” he said after Arman did not answer.

Arman was shocked and angrier than ever. “What other language would you be speaking? And exactly what is the Dome? WHERE AM I?” Arman’s voice rose as he requested answers.

“The Dome is a multiverse that expands across every dimension in the spectrum of existence. It chooses the greatest warriors from across these plains of life and brings them to its center, also called the Dome. Therefore the Dome is an intelligence, and a place.” Arman couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I’m sure it’s all hard to understand Mr. Solomon, but…”

“Your damn right it’s hard! What if I didn’t want to be chosen?” Arman waited to see if the balding, pale, little man with bushy eyebrows could best his anger.

With a calm manner, the Domerii retorted, “I’d like you to remember Mr. Solomon, that without the Dome, you would be falling through a tunnel of glass shards for eternity.” Arman could not answer back and thought of it as a dream… or nightmare. Krone turned and opened the small oak door behind him.


The door opened without a creak and the sight beyond its boundaries was the most stunning thing Arman had ever seen. It was a lobby, the size of a castle keep; the chamber of light was flanked by two transparent stairways, whose steps individually appeared and disappeared as the Dome’s strange inhabitants walked, slithered, and hopped up them. The staircase was a shimmering light, like a hallucination in the desert.
Two men passing by greeted Arman, remarking on another human arrival. They looked very happy; Arman rethought his stay in the strange place. The floor was the same ethereal glass substance before the marble door, but below was a pure white fog.

“What is down there?” Arman asked pointing at the fog. He looked at the Domerii as he spoke.

“There is another floor below us. And before you ask, no, it is not blanketed in fog. The fog is merely used as a matter of privacy. See?” said the man, looking up. Arman gazed at the ceiling, so high up; it was the same fog. They continued to the stairs which Arman hesitated to step on at first. “Well, come on!” said Krone.

“What am I to do here?” Arman asked, far more accepting of his fate. The Domerii kept walking as he spoke; his pace was very fast with such tiny legs, but he kept the same speed as Arman, who simply walked slowly. It was almost amusing.

“You are to be taught by Orysius Solian; a highly respected teacher of the arts. Your curriculum will be of his choice, but expect combat. Ah, here we are.” The two men, so different in height and attitude stopped in front of a sliding door. The door was like pane glass, with an image of a dragon in a helix around a mountain; the same as on Arman’s sword.

“How did you know Krone? Krone?” Arman stopped speaking when he realized Krone wasn’t there, and stepped into his room.


Arman found his room quite delightful, as it was furnished to his appeals. The walls were clean white, except for one which looked like an ancient painting of dolphins on beige stone. Arman had always been very clean, and had taken an interest in the art India painted. To Arman's surprise there was, instead of fog, nice sand below the floor; reminiscent of Arman's cherished, but rare trips to the beach in childhood. There was a steel desk, a very fluffy blue bed, and a polished weapons rack where Arman put his unique kit.

Undoing his vest, Arman felt very tired all of a sudden, and lay on his bed. He was amazed by his travels. In the twilight of sleep, Arman thought of his friends back on Earth, searching for him with great haste. They were good to him.

Your dialogue is much better. Probably in the lesson after next, I'll want to see what you can do when two people have an actual conversation as opposed to constant inquiry. Not your fault, haha. Anyway, a couple of things:

First of all, you used all-caps at one point in your post. This is useable, but it is reserved for only the loudest and most emotional exclamations. Try and use it incredibly sporadically.

Next is your use of prepositions. Never end a clause (anything with a subject and predicate) with a preposition--always reword the sentence to make sure the clause ends on a non-preposition word. For example:

Instead of:

They continued to the stairs which Arman hesitated to step on at first.

Try:

They continued to the stairs on which Arman first hesitated to step.

Another example would be, instead of "I need something to write with," you would put "I need something with which to write." Another is, instead of "He did not know the text the movie was based upon," you would need to put "He did not know the text upon which the movie was based."

A list of common prepositions:

"about," "above," "across," "after," "against," "along," "among," "around," "at," "before," "behind," "below," "beneath," "beside," "between," "beyond," "but," "by," "despite," "down," "during," "except," "for," "from," "in," "inside," "into," "like," "near," "of," "off," "on," "onto," "out," "outside," "over," "past," "since," "through," "throughout," "till," "to," "toward," "under," "underneath," "until," "up," "upon," "with," "within," and "without."

Other than that, your post was golden. Next assignment!

Have your character wake up to find a note on the dresser. In it, it reads:

To my new student,

It is a pleasure to have you here in the Dome. Your tutelage will begin rather quickly; I have some things I need to see of you, so please, find your way to the Volcano Room as soon as you can. I have attached directions upon the back of this letter, so please see to it that you arrive promptly.

I look forward to meeting you!

Orysius Solian

So, your character finds his way to the Volcano Room. Inside, there is a desolate wasteland with only a Volcano visible about a mile away. It is active. Upon the top, one can see a platform raised and anchored above the volcano's crater. What is on this platform is indiscernible, but a shimmering light can be seen from it. Your character should begin climbing the volcano. In his ascent, the volcano should begin to become a bit more active, spewing rocks and perhaps lava and making it a treacherous job. It is not an eruption, but merely a churning of sorts. This assignment is based on action-based writing.

When your character reaches the top, have him begin ascending one of the four ladders leading up to the platform. End your post before your character reaches the top.

OoC: I think it's too short. Tell me what you think.

BiC: When Arman awoke, he instantly lifted himself from the comfort of the bed. His reaction was based on years in the military, and as an addition to this, it made Arman very alert; when he stood, the first thing he did was examine his surroundings. Arman was groggy, and did not recognize the beautifully designed room; then he remembered the torment of the Eternity Hall, the awkward Domerii, Krone, and his eventual passing into the relieving realm of sleep.

As Arman had this stimulating revelation, he noticed a note laying face down on the steel desk. He walked over to it rubbing his eyes, and touched the desk, expecting a cold salutation. Surprisingly, the steel was warm, and the note was very well written, as if by a royal scribe; Arman could write, his whole team could, but unfortunately that was it. Many people could not afford the delicacy of writing, but… Arman then realized his problem. He had recently been increasingly analytical, perhaps a side effect of being around the meticulous India, or stressful work. He knew he could not apply it in the Dome.

Arman read the cleanly written note, and was clueless as to what it meant to report to the Volcano Room. He was relieved that there were at least directions on the back. If the Dome was as large scale as Krone had mentioned, Arman would have been mystified by its vast halls. The instructions on back were very short; this puzzled Arman as being almost hypocritical to Krone’s description to the complexity of the Dome.

Arman left his questions behind and walked over to the weapons rack to suit up and prepare for the first day of training. “Expect combat…” Krone had said; well, combat was one thing in which Arman had no problems. After donning the equipment, he stepped out of his pane-glass door and looked down both sides of the hall. Walking on the ghostly glass above the fog, Arman turned left at the end of the hall, proceeding at a nervous pace. As he did so another resident stepped, or more appropriately leaped out it’s room. The figure was that of a man on the legs of a giant spider. Arman could only muster a weak smile to the spider-man’s deep voiced greeting.

The next right turn led to the shimmering stair case, at which Arman gaped at for a second time. After enough admiration of the bright steps, Arman stepped down, taking in the tolerance of the Dome; there was another spider-man conversing with a giant green slug, who spoke with a shrill voice. A human girl laughed with a faun, and an elf shared her experiences with a minotaur, whose great chuckles pierced all other noises like a rapier. Arman could only smile at the assortment of races. He realized how much his brother and India would love to see this. He felt home.


Arman had now gotten to the last step: “Proceed into the third capsule on the right; request the Volcano Room.” By now he had abandoned questions and analysis of his surroundings; the Dome was beyond rational thought, and Arman, against his own code, had decided to abide by whatever was asked of him. The Dome was a safe place, and Arman knew it. He stepped into the capsule and was greeted by a young, stern Domerii.

“Human, right?” the Domerii asked. Arman replied, and the tiny man asked his location with a sigh. Arman detected his attitude and suddenly adjusted his tone to it.

“Uh, Volcano Room please,” said Arman. He waited casually for something amazing and new to happen. Arman found the Domerii staring at him while he methodically punched in the location for the Volcano Room.

“Whatch’ you smilin’ about?” asked the small man. Arman was insulted by his foul attitude and demanded he just take him to the Volcano Room. The Domerii grunted and pushed a button. The capsule door closed, and the whole thing shifted to the side at a dizzying speed. Arman felt the G forces build up in his body and he grasped a handle on the wall, afraid to let go. After a few seconds of the staggering ride in the capsule, it halted suddenly, Arman hitting his head on the hard surface of the wall. He gave the Domerii a threatening look while the door opened. A fiery draft hit the two and Arman coughed for a few seconds. Arman stepped out of the capsule and looked back at the Domerii.

The tiny man said with a deliberate sarcasm, “Hey man, lighten up!” Arman heard him laughing as the doors closed.


The inferno that lay ahead of Arman was only split by a dirt red road; around the path were pits of lava, surrounded by obsidian gravel, and small hills that vented heat waves. Every once and a while the ground would shake and the small pebbles around Arman would pitch away from the road, downhill to the sandy obsidian blanketing the landscape. Arman walked for about a mile, sweating profusely, and keeping his eyes on the large volcano ahead of him. On the very peak there seemed to be a platform. On the mysterious platform was a bright, white light that Arman found very odd. It was his beacon, his very source of determination. The light was a torch, and he was the fly.

Arman took his first step onto the volcano by slowly raising himself up the face of a small cliff. Using ropes and a few hooks, he managed to scale the rocky level. After examining the cuts he developed from the ascension, he started to attempt another climb, but was thrown to the ground by a great tremor. Rocks ranging from the size of a pot to the size of a horse were shaken loose by the magnitude of the trembling giant. It was in the process of collapsing before eruption.

Arman dodged a flurry of small rocks and rolled under an overhang. He peeked out, squinting as the barrage died down. Slowly, he stepped out of his dark haven and continued a mentally drawn path. The treacherous mountain continued to rumble and at one point it closed off Arman’s path with a gigantic black boulder. Arman reached for Vircendia, unlatched it’s safety on top, and let fly a single rocket. The boulder was destroyed, fragmenting small rocks into Arman’s face. He brushed these away and crossed over a thin ravine, wiping his blackened face as he examined his progress on altitude; he had clambered painfully high. Another climb and Arman was exhausted, grunting from a badly bruised shin.

Arman continued along a ridge face and was met by another tremeor; this one shifted the gravel below him and he shot off the side of the volcano. Before falling 10 feet and with lighting quick reaction, Arman had pulled out Amatair and stabbed it’s curved blade into the rock. He heaved himself up the visceral obsidian and cleaved his arms against the jagged face. Bruised and bleeding, Arman rolled onto his back, praying for the eruption to hold out, and panting like a liquid starved dog. His wheezes were drowned out by the colossal rumble of the volcano and suddenly Arman caught site of a narrow opening in the black wall of lacerating rock.

Arman approached this opening sucking in air and slipped through. The path seemed to lead directly to the platform, with the exception of four ladders, made of steel. Arman wheezed once more and started to limp, and eventually run to the ladder. An abrupt tremor brought down a final rain of fire, landing a burning rock on Arman’s back. He fell, motionless, when his instincts took over. He rolled over quickly and the rock pitched away from him, breaking into two against a wall. The embers inside still burned as Arman got up, shaking the excess black sand from his back, and starting the walk to the volcano’s ladders.

OoC: Don't worry so much about length. It's not important so long as you convey the desired message. Forgive me if I do not do your character justice.

BiC: Oh, the Volcano Room.

Such a place was this. Dank, hot, sweaty, and not without a pinch of depressing qualities to it, the Volcano Room stood a sign of the sheer magnitude of the Dome’s reach. Connected to dimensions such as this, it made one wonder whether or not there was any life for the Dome to procure for training in such places. It mattered not, though; the Dome would do what it would, a fact Orysius had come to know quite soundly.

Feeling the slight tink, tink, tink of his student’s boots upon the iron ladder, Orysius spoke out through his mind to the Dome, hoping it would calm the Volcano so that he might speak. The mountain gave a sudden violent tremor, and then reverted to a serenely light vibration. After a moment, the student managed to climb up to the platform and stand up straight.

“Greetings,” Orysius said. He smiled warmly.

The student seemed to ignore him, and looked around the platform in dismay. “The light that was here—where did it go?”

“Oh,” Orysius said, taking off his blue-tinted spectacles and holding them up to the sun, “that? The sun is very bright up here. What you saw was naught but a reflection off of my glasses. Apologies if you expected some… more interesting feats.”

“Who are you?” the student asked.

Orysius laughed. “Hasty, are we?” He placed his glasses back on his face. “I am Orysius Solian, and you, my friend, are Arman Solomon. I will be teaching you for the duration of your stay here.”

Arman gave Orysius a stern look. “And what is it that you presume to teach me?”

Orysius, ignoring the question, looked out to the vast, desolate plains of the Volcano Room. The wind picked up a slight bit, ruffling his short, blond hair. Reaching downwards, the teacher picked up a small, lone rock and threw it off the edge of the platform. He then turned back to Arman, smiling once more. “Do you like it here?”

“Here?” Arman asked. “The Dome?”

“No,” Orysius said. “This room. It’s treacherous, I know, but I like to think it has a serene beauty to it. The man who taught in my place before me used to love it here. His name was Tokumaru, a fire-mage if you ever saw one, and my, a spectacle was the time that he would spend in here. I suppose I used to feel as you must—the place turned me off a good deal until Tokumaru made me realize how pretty it actually can be.”

Orysius saw that Arman was giving him a stare, obviously not caring much for the tale. “I will assume you’d like a lesson?”

Arman nodded.

“Fair enough,” Orysius said. “Leave this place the way you came. Find your way to the gardens—there you must head to the center. There is a special fountain there, the water of which is very special. Gaze into those waters, and come find me in the Great Library to tell me what you have seen.”

Orysius then turned to walk off the platform and leave the room in his own way, but Amran stopped him.

“Will I receive no direction?”

“No,” Orysius said with a smirk. “You shall find your way. Do not worry.”

And with that, the teacher made his exit.

OoC: Alrighty, so, have Arman leave the Volcano Room and make his way to the gardens. The gardens are actually a massive hedge maze, the hedges of which are extremely tall. It's almost a bit reminiscent of the Sacred Forest Meadow from Ocarina of Time, just far bigger. An overcast sky is present, graying the entire landscape. Arman must find his way to the center.

Now, at the entrance to the hedge maze, there is a red fairy. This is not a "Come with me, O mystical warrior!" fairy, nor is it a "Hey! Look! LISTEN!" fairy. This is a fairy with edge--a fairy that is not afraid to speak her mind nor insult any creature. She will be Amran's guide, but keep in mind, she is fast. In this post, I want you to work on your dialogue and descriptive skills. I want to SEE that garden in my head, and I want to FEEL Amran's feelings towards the robust and quirky fairy. End your post when Amran reaches the center of the hedge maze, at which there is a massive fountain.

Arman was stunned by the bluntness of Orysius’ words. He could not believe that after such misfortune scaling the great volcano, that he was now to return to the Dome with such haste. Arman simply turned away, hands on his head, watching the fiery valley and its billowing columns of smoke. After enough consideration and preparation, Arman set off down the black mountain, bracing himself for more trouble.


Arman had finally reached the point where the capsule delivered him with jolting speed. He suffered more wounds on the way down the volcano, but only by slipping and bumping into jagged outcrops of rock; the tremors had been spared for his descent. Arman found the cave which he had exited beforehand was now gone, either sealed naturally, or by the mischievous tricks of the Dome. He waited for any type of sign to recall the capsule. None came.

Arman broke through the wall, promptly, with three high explosive rockets. So it had been the tremors; Arman felt guilty for questioning the trustworthiness of the Dome. He briefly thanked his absent brother for the futuristic contraption that had spared him so many times, just before noticing a marble door in the recesses of the cave. Arman recognized the door, only fearing the hall behind it. As he stepped inside he shut his eyes trying to envision the long walk ahead.


When Arman opened his eyes and saw the hall he was massively relieved by the abbreviated length of the corridor. It extended only about twenty feet, with a Domerii waiting at the end, waving happily to Arman. When Arman moved closer he recognized Krone.

“Krone, what are you doing here? Why is the hall so short?” asked Arman, intent this time on listening respectfully.

The dwarfish Domerii greeted him with a smile, “I, Mr. Solomon, am your patron Domerii. You will find me every time you reenter the Eternity Hall to the Dome. As for its length, the Eternity Hall is based on the magnitude of chosen heroes that pass through it. This is to weed out the undetermined candidates. Therefore you can obviously see that many inhabitants have made their journey from Earth; on the other hand not so many have come from the world of the Volcano Room.”

Arman thought over his cheerfully spoken words for a moment then came to a shocking revelation. “The ‘undetermined’ heroes must die on their journey then, or at least lose their sanity, am I right?”

Krone was insulted by the brutality of Arman’s thought. “My goodness no, Mr. Solomon. If the men chosen to pass through cannot make the odyssey to the Dome, then they are simply and graciously transported back to their world. They are just never given another chance to pass through the Dome’s great halls.” Krone’s explanation cleared Arman’s conscious, and he was left with the final task of asking for directions. Krone looked surprised when asked about the fountain, and he clearly displayed to Arman that it was only one person’s duty to lead a person to the Garden, and he was not the one. After parting with Krone, Arman stepped through the door into the Dome.


Arman was startled to be in a small forest when he stepped through the door; he did not need to turn around to know the gateway he passed through was gone. The sky above was gray and Arman walked without fear of any rain. After a while a clearing appeared in sight; its vast size was covered by a hedge maze. The maze had broad green leaves, and was 15 feet tall at the walls. There was an entrance but more interesting was what was next to it; a red fairy girl.

The fairy had fiery red hair and was wearing a red dress; this gave her the appearance of being red, and other than that she was just a doll sized human with wings. Arman approached amused by the cute little fairy.

“Hello, my name is Arman Solomon, and I suppose this maze leads to the fountain?”

“Yeah, if you can keep up with me you silly human!” She did not laugh, giving Arman the impression that with her squeaky but threatening voice, she was very serious. At this she dashed into the maze yelling, “Pick it up slowpoke. Let’s move you worm!” Arman resented her already.

Arman took off running, lost the fairy around a corner and sped up to catch her; as he turned the narrow bend his face bumped into her. He foresaw the fairies wrath.

“Oh, I’m sorry filthy human, was I in your way? Look at you, covered in soot, smelling like a pig died on your back. Hurry up!” Again she was off. Out of pure hatred for the fairy and her bad attitude Arman kept up, determined not to give her another reason for insult. Unfortunately, the fairy rounded a corner out of sight and Arman ran right past it stopping at a dead end.

All the senses seemed amplified as Arman searched for the feisty red fairy. The wind rustled the hedge slightly bring a cool draft from the overcast sky down the natural corridor. The green of the leaves glowed when Arman was ready to tear through them. The tunnel of plants was odious and lonely, a very unforgiving place.

Then, out of nowhere, the fairy reappeared and Arman braced for a cruel scolding. “You humans are quite stupid aren’t you? You can’t even follow som…”

“Shut up!” yelled Arman. The fairy looked startled and a bit guilty. “You need to quit insulting me and lead the way to the fountain. Then I’ll be out of your hair, you pitiful fairy!” Arman realized that he had become what he had hated in the fairy girl. He focused his eyes on her and said, “I’m sorry. Can we go to the fountain?”The fairy agreed solemnly, and Arman followed thinking of the tables being turned. Now he was in control, like the fairy was before him. He felt guilty in control; maybe that is why the fairy insulted him so much; to mask her remorse.

Arman knew he had to break the ice, “Hey. I’ve been thinking; do you have many friends the way act?” The fairy shook her head and kept flying. “Well, I think it’s because you feel guilty for degrading so many people. And the only way to mask it is by putting out more insults,” the fairy looked at him now wiping a microscopic tear from her eye, “It’s because of being in charge all of the time?”

“Arman… You are absolutely right. I…I don’t know how you know, but that is exactly why,” the fairy started to break down, “I’ve spent hundreds of years ferrying people to the fountain, some have been quite mean… But you are the first to understand. I’m Appri, by the way” Arman felt good to be the vent of this poor fairy.

“Well Appri, I’m sure we will be good friends. Just try to treat the next person right; maybe you will gain more friends than you could ever imagine, especially with the amount of people who must come through the garden.” Arman saw the hedge exit. He walked past Appri and turned around waving goodbye. She looked distressed.

“Arman, we will meet again, won’t we?” Arman gave her a warm smile to answer, as he walked ahead to the large stone fountain.

Alrighty, well done.

For your next lesson, have Amran look into the fountain. I don't know if you've seen Lord of the Rings, but if you have, this is like when Frodo looked into the water of the Dead Marshes. Amran won't see any dead people as Frodo did, but he, as Frodo, will become entranced by the water and gently loose his balance, falling into it. His consciousness will leave him for a moment, and when it arises again, he is in a watery chamber. The chamber, however, is full of air, so it's like kind of like a bubble. In the chamber, Amran will confront someone from his past, and they will have an in-depth dialogue about a particular subject or issue.

This lesson is designed to test your free-form dialogue skills, as in, a dialogue with two characters you know well. The EH specializes in pitting your character against a character you are unfamiliar with personality-wise, so it is a different form of dialogue. This dialogue, with two characters you know inside-and-out, is how dialogue will be in any stories or professional writing you do. So, hop to it.

End your post when the confrontation ends. Amran will awake face-down outside of the fountain.

OoC: Happy holidays! Sorry it's been awhile. I've been pretty busy over the last couple weeks, so I should be quicker from now on.

BiC: Arman walked away from the awkward fairy without looking back. He started to smile at the strange adventures he found in the Dome, but cast it aside when he found one in the old stone fountain. The fountain was about waist high, wide, and made of a rough stone. Arman carefully peered down into it, as per Orysius’ instructions, and waited. Nothing happened. He shuffled around, wiping some mud off his shoes, and thought if he had forgotten anything. Eventually, frustration turned to boredom. Arman refused to make a fool of himself because of his failure to see anything, but his silvery reflection in the well.

Just before giving up he peered into the clear waters of the well and thought about home. He remembered India, and Virgil, but shamefully had trouble conjuring his mothers face. He closed his eyes in concentration; when he opened them he jumped away from the well in surprise. There was someone else’s reflection in the water and some had been rocked out when Arman pounced off of the well. In a quick moment fear was replaced by intrigue, and Arman sat up to check the well. He left a soot covered imprint on the grove floor as he raised himself, walking to the ghostly mirror water.

The shimmering water did not scare Arman this time but there was a final intense moment of suspense as he craned to look over. There was only his reflection; he watched with careful intent. Was there something down there? The water seemed to shiver at Arman’s thoughts, and he got closer. The water started to shake violently now, but Arman only got closer, challenging whatever spirit possessing the ripples to continue. Suddenly and without cause Arman dropped from the water’s seizures, hitting his head on the side of the stone well. There was a thud when he hit the ground and the world went black.


When the light returned to Arman, he was on the ethereal glass again, wondering if someone had taken the trouble to drag him into the Dome lobby. He rubbed the lump on his eyebrow; it extended to his forehead and made an egg shape. Arman winced when he touched it, but was drawn from the cloudy pain by a magnificent sight. He gaped and got up, running. India was in the middle of the glass floor. She had weak smile on as if Arman were a naïve child racing to his presents. By the time he reached her he was panting softly, wiping his forehead, trying to make the shiner magically disappear.

Her voice was beautiful, and strong. “Hello Arman.” Arman smiled and found himself unable to speak, his mind suddenly swamped with a thousand questions; she did not even seemed surprised. “This is a beautiful place,” she said softly, “You must be very worried. To be quite frank, I do not know exactly why I am here. The small man, Krone, explained as much as I could believe.” Arman moved closer to her, and her eyes welled suddenly and unexpectedly with tears. “Virgil and I were so worried. When we heard of the news, our only choice was to flee the city. The guards barred the exits, Virgil dumped all the equipment, and I had to burn the HQ.” She spoke erratically, the job was her life.

Arman spoke to calm her, “Indy, I don’t care about any of the equipment. You and Virgil getting out okay is the only thing that mattered.” She raised her head, abandoning the tears. There was a look she had that was cold as stone. There was a brief moment of quiet and she bowed her head again. “Where is Virgil?” Arman asked. He started to shout when he saw her grief, “Where is Virgil? My brother? India!”

“Virgil is dead Arman! He was killed in Damascus!” Arman stared into the distance. It was funny to him how the most beautiful sights were revealed in the greatest moments of mourning. He and India were in a bubble; around it was a great sea. They were deep, as the light was not great outside of the shield. India whispered, “He was executed. Right in front of my eyes, on the day you disappeared. I’m so sorry.” She resumed crying; eventually, Arman silently joined her.


There was a long moment in which Arman found no shelter from the plague of sorrow. He shifted his feet as they started to fall asleep; India leaned on him and broke the lingering spell of silence by whispering.

“I just wish I could say ‘It will be alright’ to you… I wish you were back with us to fight… That was our lives, your brother, and my friend,” Arman’s thoughts displayed her wishes and his unspoken ones. “Arman… I love you.”

In a moment of total obliviousness, Arman was filled with joy, but was lashed by his conscience into the truth. “Indy, I’m sorry.” He knew they would never hold each other, after Virgil’s death; he could not, would not risk it. His golden days had come to an end. He would wander… If only he could get out of the Dome. Retribution was the name of the game. In the brief second it took to contemplate all of this, Arman looked right into India’s eyes.

She stared back and for the slightest moment they were together, happy in a safe place with logs on the fire and children playing around them. She spoke the meaningful and emotion stretching words Arman had never expected, “I know.”

In that moment India dissolved, and was gone from the Dome, where she had met a strange little man, greeted the man who loved her, and delivered the worst news she could have ever delivered.

Arman stood for a moment in disbelief, but knew she was gone, back on the mad planet Earth. He wanted deeply to shout her name until she reappeared, but knew it was futile; he refused to be a fool under the control of the brutally truthful Dome. He sat now, waiting for his miraculous transportation to another ominously peaceful or painful place; after a few moments of recollection he got it, awakening in the middle of a green grove, face down in the grass.

I've no complaints this time--a very good lesson. I want to keep stretching those dialogue muscles! Orysius instructed Arman to find him in the Library, so, have Arman exit the gardens and look around for someone (not a Domerii) to lead him there. When he does so, he and that person should have a long conversation on the way, about anything you want in particular. I want to exercise your dialogue skills for all they're worth. End your post when Amran enters the Library--the Library is a massive, MASSIVE place, with ceilings that are so high they cannot be seen for lack of light. It is around a hundred feet wide, and spans long-ways an indeterminable distance.