[Puck] Molk's Training

The sun hung high in the sky, unrelenting in its cruel heat. Molk had been walking for four days now, leaving his feet cut and bloodied. Despite his pain he could not rest, for stopping would provide him no safety. The deep desert storms never stopped, instead they merely grew in size and ferocity. Stopping would only get him caught in a torrent of sand that would crush his bones and peel away his skin. As Molk topped one of the monstrous dunes he stopped and watched.

The sky no longer existed; Molk’s approaching death now covered everything in sight to the north, east, and south. Molk knew going back to the west would only guarantee his death. He had sensed nothing out there, not even the smallest hint of life. No, life had to be east. He would have perhaps thirty or forty minutes if he continued into the storm. If he hurried he could cover a fair bit of distance in that time and perhaps happen upon better natural protection than a sand dune. Even if he failed he could always set up his tent inside the sand again and hope for the best.

As Molk ran he recalled his life in his tribe. All his peers would have returned from their training yesterday. They would assume their positions as full-fledged members of the Inculata, no longer children. Molk himself would have begun training some of the young children. His children he supposed, as an Inculata everyone was responsible for the children. In a mere three years he would have been joined through blood with a wife. He would have earned the right to join one of the clans within the tribe. He would have a voice. He could influence the direction of his people and --

A ferocious howl of wind awoke Molk from his daze. The storm would be upon him in minutes. With an efficiency he had refined to perfection in the last few days, Molk dug into the side of one of the more sheltered sand dunes. Within moments he was setting up his globe like tent inside. He placed the short filtered air pipe that would provide him his lifesource through the storm as best as he could. If it was too high it would snap, but if it was too low it would be buried deep within the sand and he would not receive enough air.

The first granules of sand pelted Molk’s face. He was used to the sand whipping up in the desert, but this was far harsher. Blood trickled down his face from a gash cut across his forehead by a speck of sand. Knowing he had no more time to ensure the pipe was properly arranged Molk slid down the narrow hole that led to his tent, and collapsed the roof of the small tunnel in as he sealed his tent from the world.

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He should be safe, few had been killed inside their tents. He should be protected from the elements outside. He should, he should, he should. Molk did not feel safe, not after being transported to this hell. There was no logical way for him to have ended up in the deep desert. He had somehow been moved here, but all he could remember was a flash during the night. Abruptly, a sickening crack echoed with his tent and sand slowly, but surely, began to pour in. The air pipe had snapped.

In a panic, Molk grabbed the wicker tube that carried all his remaining possessions and began to dig out of the tent. He would surely die from suffocation in the tent, but he had a chance to fix the pipe if he could survive in the storm. A minuscule chance, but a chance all the same. As he neared the top of the pipe Molk’s foot caught upon the roof of his tent. In the feral desperation that only the fear of imminent death can bring upon a man he began to pull the tent up with him.

Just as his fingertips broke the surface and were cut by the power of the centuries old storm, there was a flash. Molk was overwhelmed with feeling. The isolation he had felt for the past few days was drowned in a flurried attack on his senses. There was life everywhere. It was as if someone had packed his entire tribe into the meeting tent and then tripled the number of people. There was more water than Molk had seen in his life somewhere to his left. Even the air itself was wet with moisture. It was difficult to even breath properly with so much, humidity, yes that was it, humidity, he recalled from his studies. Molk opened his eyes and glanced around. His tent was still caught on his foot and no more than two inches beyond that was a doorway. Molk studied the empty, black rectangle. It was made of the same wood as his bow. At the very least the coarse woodwork was exactly the same, but it couldn’t be. Trisklo wood did not grow large enough to make a structure like that. The door would have required a tree with a diameter the size of the door itself. Not a single seam marked its perfect shape.

Suddenly, Molk was overcome with sickness. He emptied the last few morsels of food he had allowed himself in the last few days onto the grass next to him.

“Ah, humidity sickness is a terrible thing isn’t it?” called a worried voice from the field.

OOC: Word count was 939. I plan on introducing a guide of sorts from the voice, btw.
Edited after reading it. I need to proofread my own work more >.<

Comma Rules.

Ahhhh, so many comma abuses here. Let's try something differently here. I want you to read through that thar link, and then go through your own post correcting all your comma mistakes in bold. I find people learn more correcting their own work. So do that, post, and I'll see how you did. Savvy?

Bah, I get attacked by the comma bug and it infests my writing yet again.

I lapse into comma abuse on occasion. I realize how they work, but occasionally my hands produce commas. You must catch me when I do this. Some of my posts will have perfect punctuation for months at a time. Then I will lapse into it again.

I think I got them all.

Sorry for the delay~ BTW: You might wanna book mark that comma page, it's very useful. =3

ASSIGNMENT TIME
Since ya already went and decided to have a guide then a Guide you should have. I am a big fan of NPC's so I want a nice original character, with a description no less than 350 words(I will be counting). Then have the guide lead Brad to Kaze's room, finish it off with the two of them entering a door leading to a huge grassy field, with a single apple tree in the middle.

OoC: Immri is supposed to sound like he rambles and talks very fast, hence the odd commas, run-ons, and repetition with his talk. On another note, I didn't count how many words I used to physically describe Immri, but I feel you get a good idea of the character.

BiC:
Molk wiped the acidic taste from his mouth as he glanced around for the source of the voice. He could not sense any life large enough to be a man, yet something had undoubtedly called him.

“Ah! An Inculata,” the voice exclaimed, “I don’t suppose one of you has been here for . . . hmmm . . . six veras. This is just delightful!”

The voice was like nothing Molk had ever heard. It jumped from clearly feminine tones to a gravely bass and back without pause, as if it was both a man and a woman talking rather than one voice. It seemed to originate from the slightest hint of life directly in front of him. Molk began to struggle towards the voice, dragging his now exhausted body across the soft grass. However, the tall brush began to wiggle as he moved and a shape darted out of the grass at a speed Molk’s eyes could hardly register. The black blur was milliseconds away from crashing into him when it froze. The color of the orb, that floated a foot from the ground in front of him, was hardly justified by the word “black”. It was as if color merely ceased to exist in that exact area. Molk’s eyes struggled to view the creature for the lack color variance severely disturbed his sense of depth perception. Intense white eyes with black irises appeared in the mass of darkness, comically large for the size of the creature. Millions of fine black hairs came into view around the periphery of the creature and Molk's eyes struggled to see the hairs he knew were present on the rest of the creature.

“Hmmm, you have hardly a health issue at all for coming across a few dimensions,” said the odd floating hairball. “Yes, yes, they should be healed now. I’m Immri and you are . . . ?” The creature talked faster than most humans would.

“I’m Molk,” blurted out the young desert Inculata.

"Well then Molk, I would absolutely love the opportunity to talk to an Inculata! I’m a scientist of sorts you see. I study the Dome, and interdimensional travel, and magic and-“

“What’s the Dome?”

“The Dome? That’s where you are of course. I study it, been studying it for years! Know more about it than anything else that roams any reality! Fascinating place, always changing, always moving –“

“But, what is it?” Molk interrupted again.

“I don’t really know actually,” Immri quipped, clearly about to launch into another speech.

“Didn’t you say you knew more about it than anyone else in reality?”

“Yes! But, you see, no one really knows anything about it. In fact, I’ve studied this place for ten veras now and I’m not entirely sure it is a Dome at all. I do know that the Dome seems to call people here for some reason. I suppose you will be going to one of those teachers now?” Immri asked, clearly saddened by the prospect of losing the opportunity to study Molk.

“A teacher? A teacher of what exactly?”

“I don’t specifically know, I’ve never bothered talking to any of them. In fact, I’m fairly sure some of them can’t even see me. Most of us are all in somewhat different dimensions even while able to communicate with each other and not everyone can see specific dimensions. At least, I think so,” Immri faded back into his gravelly voice as he pondered the questions of the Dome.

Molk examined the curious creature as it became self-absorbed in its thoughts. The tiny hairs on the bottom moved back and forth slowly, as if they were keeping him in the air. Noticing Molk observing him, Immri snapped back into the present and promptly ordered Molk to follow him.

“You must come and visit it me some time, when you are done with doing whatever it is that you do. I would love the chance to examine an Inculata. You guys made great magicians back in the day, I always wanted to know why you and yours left the Dome. Your tribe lived here, oh yes, they lived here! Very powerful magic, some of them,” Immri prattled on as the minute hairs moved in gorgeous synchronization to rotate his small body and propel his at walking pace along the field.

“Where are we going?” quipped Molk as he glanced around for some kind of discernable path through the field.

“Oh, we are following the magic, my boy! Search for it with your body, with all your senses. I’m sure you can find the path with your blood,”

Molk reached out his mind but sensed nothing that was similar to the magic the creature was now describing.

“Nothing?” Immri asked, as if reading his mind. “Don’t worry, I’ve been performing aurism magic for a long time, you’ll figure it out someday. Only you Inculata and us Exononos can do it you know!” His voice hit marvelously high notes as he noted off all the things he was so proud their races could do. “Ah, here we are. I think . . . well, let us just find out I suppose!”

Molk glanced up and found yet another one of those strange doorways made of Trisklo wood. “Do you know where this wood came from?”

“No, haven’t quite pondered that one out yet. It seems most people see something different, but I can’t be sure, I only see the Trisklo doorways as well. Come on then!” Immri darted through the door way, disappearing instantly when the last hair made it through. Molk glanced back at his tent, strewn far across the field and darted through the doorway. He could always go back and get the tent later.

Molk’s body adjusted to the new climate instantaneously this time. “I took the liberty of patching up some of those pesky things that cause humidity sickness in you, always bugged me until I figured it out” Immri said as he noticed Molk’s surprise. They glanced out across the massive grass plain. The skyline was interrupted by a single tree that Molk could not classify.

“Ahh! I forgot your stuff, you go look around for your teacher, they are always popping up whenever I try and study a new student. Never see old Immri, no, but they find students very quickly. I’ll drop off your stuff wherever you are stationed. I can find you right quick, we are so similar you know!” With that, Immri darted out the doorway leaving Molk pondering how he was similar in the slightest to the furry black ball.

Originally Posted by Bradapalooza

OoC: Immri is supposed to sound like he rambles and talks very fast, hence the odd commas, run-ons, and repetition with his talk. On another note, I didn't count how many words I used to physically describe Immri, but I feel you get a good idea of the character.

I never critique grammar during actual speech as it would take away from the characterization.

He didn’t sense anything large enough to be a man around but perhaps more than humidity had tampered with his body.

I have no idea what this sentence means.

“Ah! An Inculata,” the voice exclaimed* “I don’t suppose one of you has been here for . . . hmmm . . . six veras. This is just delightful!”

*Comma here. This whole thing counts as a single sentence as it continues one though thus it needs a comma.

It sounded undoubtedly feminine as it exclaimed and descended to a gravelly and slow bass as it had paused to think before returning to the clear feminine tones of its exclamation.

Once again I have no idea what this means. It's a long sentence without a clear thought.

The color of the orb* that floated a foot from the ground in front of him** was hardly justified by the word “black”.

Comma here* and here**

Simultaneously, millions of fine black hairs came into view on the creature.

How can you see black hairs on a pure black creature?

The creature talked rather faster than most humans would.

Rather...That word, it's useless and distraction. Destroy it plz.

Well then Molk, I would absolutely love the opportunity to talk to an Inculata! I’m a scientist of sorts you see. I study the Dome, and interdimensional travel, and magic and-“

You're missing a quotation at the beginning.

“Yes! But, you see, no one really knows anything about it. In fact, I’ve studied this place for ten veras now and I’m not entirely sure it is a Dome at all.

huh?

The tiny hairs on the bottom moved back and forth slowly, as if they were keeping his in the air.

him

“Where are we going?” quipped Molk as he glanced around for some kind of discernable path through the field.

That's not a word, spell check plz =3


A Lot of talk in this one, makes it hard to tear apart. Fix them mistakes and Ill be back.

Mistakes fixed.

Veras is just a word I made up because I didn't want to assign an actual date to Immiri's time spent studying the dome and to show that he isn't really used to talking with people from the modern age.

Discernable is a word

I thought it was spelled Discernible, meh. Errrr, and please don't make up units of time unless you tell me about them first, otherwise it hurts my brain. ALSO I'M BACK! At 4:00 in the morning, Yay insomnia?

ASSIGNMENT TIME
Molk is to walk through the field to the tree only to find a note stapled to the tree. On the note -signed by Kaze- their is a clue that Molk is to follow. Following the clue leads to another clue which leads to another clue, which leads to kaze. Be creative. Also Kaze is rather...err...Grandiose, so remember that while writing the note.