Thread: Shadows of Nurontha

The sun was shining on a cold, blustery morning. The snows had just come from over the mountains and the entire countryside was buried in the endless blanket of white. A rather boyish-looking Ron was grumbling and cursing loudly as he trudged through the shin-deep layer of fluff. He wasn't muscular, but his body was athletic enough. Some girls even called him kinda cute, though he never paid much attention. But his dark reddish-brown hair and his amber eyes did get him some looks. Except on the days he wore his scowl, the scowl that told everyone that Ron was in his bad mood and to not get near him. And today, he was in a mood. Every day he had to muck back and forth to watchpost to deliver a message to the rangers stationed there and then head right back to his assigned dormatory. The winter was the worst in his mind because it meant getting up before the sun rose and going out in the frosty darkness. Today he was especially irate since even with the snow he and the other trainees were forced to do their rounds. He stomped a bit as he walked, making sure to smash the snow down as he moved. He got back to the gate and the guards opened up the walkway and let him through. He just stomped on by them without even saying anything. One of the guards shouted some rather lewd obscenities about his upbringing at him. Ron didn't care, he was just angry. He just wanted to take it out on someone. He crashed into the outer door like he was tackling someone and stormed in. A few of the other trainees had made it back and jumped out of his way. They knew better when Ron was in his moods. One rather skinny and pasty-faced trainee walked over and grabbed Ron by the arm. Hey slowdown hothead, the skinny trainee said to him. You keep this up, the instructor is gonna put you in a world of hurt. Ron spun around and back-fisted the trainee and unsheathed his gunblade. The skinny trainee rolled over and saw the gunblade out and started scrambling across the floor backwards, his rear end bouncing off the floor several times as he tried to make some distance. The other trainees all dove behind their bunks and closets. Ron just glared at them all. Do not touch me you filthy piece of shit, Ron barked at the skinny trainee who was still on the floor. He pointed his gunblade at the trainee and let a shot ring out. The bullet soared from the barrel and streaked across the room, embedding itself into the foot chest next to the trainee's head. Everyone else in the room was completely stunned. Ron just stood there glaring, the back of his mind registering he just did something wrong. The the feeling was too detached to him, Ron was just angry. He wheeled around and took a few steps before he collided with someone. Ron recoiled back a step and shouted a few choice obscenities at whoever it was before he looked up. He did look up after only to realize he was face-to-face with a very upset instructor. Daedelion Minteur ilta Haven was not the most imposing instructor, but he commanded respect. He was normally a fair person, strict but not overbearing, authoritative without being bossy, and always balanced patience with a heavy hand. His glowing green eyes when he stared at people could wilt some, and his knee-length bright blue hair seemed to give him a mystical quality. His bushy, yet well-managed pale-brown eyebrows set off his eyes and made them that much more startling. Everyone just called him Minteur, or the trainees called him Instructor Minteur. Today, Instructor Minteur wore an expression like he was gonna break someones head in. And he had himself glaring back one seriously angry Ron. Ron scrambled to his feet and completely lost his manners. You stupid, overbearing, dog's ass! Ron screamed out, gripping his gunblade. What's the fucking idea sending us out in this? Ron was so busy screaming and glaring back he never what happened next. Minteur had uppercut Ron right under his jaw with such force it laid Ron flat on his back. Ron just growled, even though he was dazed and tried to get back up. Minteur gave him a sort of low-flying roundhouse kick right to the head and send Ron tumbling over. The other trainees in the room had all fallen back, too afraid to make much noise. Minteur pulled some rods from the holsters in the back of his uniform and twisted them together in his hands. The length of metal in his hands was about three feet long, and he twirled it about in one hand. Ron pulled himself up and without a regard to what he was doing whipped his gunblade up. Minteur met it with the metal rod and deflected Ron's attack. Ron spun around again, but Minteur had already smashed the rod down onto Ron's shoulder, followed by a swipe that connected with the temple on Ron's head. Ron fell over knocked out by the hit, and Minteur just shook his head sadly.... Ron blinked a few moments staring at the bushy white eyebrows of Minteur, looking up and down the older man's body and realizing he was in pajamas. So where did your mind wander off to this time boy? Minteur half-snorted. Ron just shrugged and responded, Was thinking about how I really dislike running in the snow. Minteur laughed a belly-laugh and slapped Ron on the back, handing him back the gunblade. Well, you might be a strapping young man, but I'm not quite as young as I used to be. Minteur yawned and turned around. I do actually need to sleep once in awhile. Minteur walked out of the room. Ron hostered his gunblade and grumbled. Sleep was something he needed, especially since he knew Cleo would have a fit about those flowers. And he really needed to be rested to deal with her when it came to her flowers.....