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Story Idea 2


Erudis Dean Markov - First name to change Solider Colin Emet - Name might stay Protagonist Bob — - Name to change



  • Armis


  • University of Armis

Concept s


  • Erudis - Title of teacher of headmasters (can teach Headmaster or lower)
  • Headmaster - Title of teacher of professors (can teach professor or lower)
  • Professor - Title of teacher of teachers (can teach Teacher or lower)
  • Teacher - Title of teacher (can teach Doctor lower)
  • Doctor - 12 year dissertation (can teach Bachelor lower)
  • Master - 8th year thesis (can teach Graduate or lower)
  • Bachelor - graduated from 6 years (can teach Associate or lower)
  • Scholar - 5th-6th years
  • Graduate - graduated from 4 years (can teach Senior or lower)
  • Adept - Fourth year
  • Apprentice - Third Year
  • Associate - graduated from 2 years (can teach Primary or lower)
  • Acolyte - Second Year
  • Novice - First Year
  • Entrant - Entering school, not in class
  • Applicant - Not in school, trying to enter college
  • Journeyman - Not in school, no attending college, no higher title earned
  • Senior - 1 year
  • Junior - 1 year
  • Sophomore - 1 year
  • Freshman - 1 year
  • Primary - 4 years ages 10-14
  • Elementary - 4 years ages 6-10
  • Grand Marshal
  • Marshal
  • General
  • Major General
  • Lieutenant General
  • Commander
  • Lieutenant Commander
  • Captain
  • Commandant
  • Lieutenant
  • Officer
  • Warrant Officer
  • Sargent
  • Corporal
  • Cadet





Entries - Nov 1

Bob stepped through the doorway and his senses were immediately assualted. The sounds around him were both bright and foreign. The colors were vivid an unavoidable. The smells were are spices he had not grown up to know, but he was still salivating. In the air he could feel a buzzing, like that of a permiating static. His neck snapped to many positions, to force his eyes to take in new information. Bob gasped for air and grabbed at his chest, coughing, his body and mind were rejecting it. What was this place in his towel closet. He turned around quickly, a closed door. Bob grabbed in by the handle and flung it open, possibly warping the door around its fragile hinges. What he saw were mops, some kind of cleaner, brooms, pails, and an eulermyer flask containing a bright yellow liquid with smell of gummy fruit snacks and strong liquor. He closed it quickly.

He was hyper-ventelating now, as he had come to the fresh realization that he probably wasn't going to make it home. “What did I just do?” he murmerred to himself. “I thought I… I thought I could just walk back! What kind of joke is this?!” he was yelling at himself now. The people in sight were looking at him with an expression of confusion and worry. Some of them picked up their pace. Bob couldn't help but stare back. One of them a family of 5.. maybe? Two brothers, a father of undecernable occupation and their mother, by the look of her apron covered in grey dusty material, perhaps a stonemason or bricklayer. A normal family given the time the surrounding buildings seemed to indicate. What really brought his mind to fold around was the fifth member of their family, a clear half woman, half horse troting right down next to them. “That is clearly a centaur, what the hell?” he remarked to the air.

The air heard him. Behind him approached an older gentlemen if a thick build. He was in a full suit of well fitted armor of somewhat plain fabrication. The gentlemen cleared his throat in order to indicate is presence. “Sir.” he stated clearly. Bob stumbled upon himself, and fell over as he was startled. The gentlemen offered him his strong hand, lifting him from the ground to his feet at a speed that was suprising by any standard. “Judging by your… rather choice manner of dress. You must not be from around here.” the man bellowed in his low, educated voice. “I… I have no idea where I am. What is this place?” Bob said quickly, while brushing the dust from himself, only to find there to be none despite the apparent state of the stone roadway. “You are in the city of Armis. You are just outside the largest University I know to exist.” he stated firmly as he pointed to a mountainous outcrop in the distance. From what he could see, was a proper medieval fortification if he had ever seen one. 40 foot high walls, even taller towers. Hundreds of people walking in an out of its gatehouse, all in uniform, a very unconventional school uniform. This fortification with multiple layers leading to the center of the whole, atop a mountain you would need fights of stairs to reach, maybe 2 miles high, and many miles away.

“I hate to be the one to do this to you son.” as the expression on the man's face changed concerningly. “I've been asked to bring anyone I see of questionable appearence to that University, for questioning.”. Bob's face became startled. He thought about running, and then about where he would run to. He would be an outsider here, obviously clueless, and would end up at this University eventually. The gentlemen made a flowing movement with his hands, and from them expelled a stream fast moving particles. Upon impacting the ground became metal. As each particle impacted the metal an object began to form. This object was a machine, a vehicle, one with an engine, obviously seated for 2 passengers. It was slender in width, great in length, with a low profile, but with no wheels. It floated, hovered above the ground slightly, only slightly, maybe an inch. The armored man stratled the vehicle, and the hundreds of pounds added didn't seem to depress this thing into the ground in the slightest. “You going to get on?” the man stated loudly to overcome the crisp explosive cracks the engine was producing at regular intervals. “Yeah, yeah sure.” Bob replied ultimately unsuprised at what he had just seen. Convinced that this was all just a hallucination now. He moved to seat himself behind the large armored man, 6 inches above and behind the driver. Bob had ridden a friend's motorcyle before, he naturally grabbed the man from behind.

The vehicle accellerated slowly, as it weaved between the foot traffic. The driver was clearly throtling it, limiting its speed because of obstructions. This hovercraft could easily travel much faster. As Bob realized this, he held on tighter. The man used the vechicles controls to slowly strife sideways, without turning to meet block after block of new road. They began to approach another road quickly, a main intersection, with many more of these vehicles. The armored man drifted right into the outgoing traffic lane and slowly brang the accellerator up to full gallop. Twenty, thrity, fifty, then maybe seventy miles per hour; and they were in the slow lane. The guys next to them passed as if they were motionless. An overpassing bridge cut off his train of thought. Upon exiting this overpass, the full scale of where he was came into few. A city, a seemingly endless mass of buildings crawlled across the rolling hills of this land. The building themeslves ranged between single story stonework, to cloud scrapping gothic styled, beutresses jetting from roman inspired columns, next to middle eastern influenced masonry domes, and asian contructed woodwork, and rice paper. Even with this melting pot of confusing source material, it was all unique it its own way. There were distinct districts, seperated by culture and class. There were rich neighboorhoods and poor slums, vibrant merchant bazzars and questionable alcoves, industrial production and wild green parks with fruit anyone could make into pie.

As the ground scrolled into view underneath him. He couldn't help but remark that even this major thourghfare, dispite the blistering pace some of these vehicles were moving, was still dotted with shops, houses, and markets. This highway was skirted still with a thick trailing walkway populated by thousands of people, living their lives and making a living. There would be no way this would fly next to the highways in the United States. It would be too loud, too dangerous. Upon taking a closer look at the ground through his tunnel vision, he began to realize that the road and sidewalk were not concrete, or asphalt, or bricks. The ground generally very smooth hewn stonework, polished marble, granite, maybe jade in some places. These unbroken slabs were soildered together with different metals; bronze, brass, copper, maybe gold, all of them yellowed metals or greening copper inlays. It reminded him of American malls, other centers of trade and travel, schools, libraries, churches, banks and airports. They all had over the top flooring like this, but this, this was a sidewalk. Everyday walking surface. You would walk out of your house and sweep this every day from the steps that lead up to your house, which were themselves polished stone.

Bob was again confused, but could not think long enough before being suddenly jolted by the breaking of the vehicle as they were approaching their exit. The exit was simple, their vehicle and others diverged to this lane that was about to split. Only now did he realize the lights on the back of these things. There were turn-signals and breaking indicators, but the light was strange. The source was not a bulb as far as he could tell, but maybe from a flame inside the vehicle. Flames that would change color periodically even. There was glass over them to protect the flame from the air, sometimes lenses or defactors softening the light; this differed by model. As the meet the exit they decellerated from about seventy to about third their speed. They were on inner city roads again, and the foot traffic was back. However, these people had the decency to stay on the side of the road most of the time. It was much more obvious now that they were approaching a college. The shops were selling writting untencils and parchment. The people here were in their late teens, early tweenties. Bob was 22, fresh out of high school after a year of failing college accounting program; he could relate. The trade here was done with what seemed to be gold and silver coins. Oh what he would do if he could bring that back with him he thought. Too bad he was hallucinating… right.

The students uniforms had a few standardized styles. A boys dress suit jacket and polo shirt, a tie, tie clip, buckle, and the university pin on the jacket pocket. The girls was the same but had a mid or long length skirt depending on preference. Although, it seems some of the mean has skirts as well, and the women with dress pants; therefore this gave no indication of gender. Some of the students were clearly not human. Large men with grey or green skin. Short women with horns. Many of them had strange bodily appendages, animal ears and tails seemed common. A few groups of students were running from one end of the road to another with paper in hand. Thick brown paper covered in well practiced calligraphy. The books carried by some of the students were large but still seemed to contain few pages, while others were small, with a technical, mass produced, machine printed appearance. Some of the students were drinking clearly alcoholic beverages in open daylight, others siting at what were obviously coffee serving cafes, eating an overpriced lunch

The vehicle slowed to a stop. “Alright, we are here. Hop off” the gentleman said as Bob obeyed. With another flowing motion of the armored man's hands, the particles were back now forming a stream blue in color ripping the vechile apart piece by piece to return what seemed like a ring the man was wearing palmside. “I have a question.” a statement Bob threw out into the open. “If you have a question as to how I store my vertiride, that I cannot answer for you.” the armored man dismissed as he motioned the young man up the stairs. “We still have a long walk to go, as the Erudis' office is at the summit of this mountain.” as he point up to the sky, two mile's ahead and up the stairs. “Erudis?” Bob asked. “It is a title, given to the headmaster of this university to disinguish him from the headmaster of other universities. He a teacher of headmasters, one from which other headmasters learn.” the armored man replied briskly walking up the stairs, easily outpacing the inquisitive Bob. “Alright so… sir, what is your name?” Bob asked. “I normally would not respond, but seeing as we will probably meet rather frequently from now on, you may call me Colin.” the armorer man said stopping, offering his hand for a proper greeting. “Bob. My name is Bob.” he stated shaking Colin's hand; to which Colin looked down at his shaken hand, confused. “You really aren't from around here are you son?” he stated immediately returning to the climb up the polished stone steps.

“No, no I am not. I have no idea where I am, what place this is, what country I am in.” the young man spilled. “Hopefully Erudis Markov will be able to get

notes/story_idea_2.txt · Last modified: 2018/07/09 05:58 by soaringmoon