| Welcome to Imythess, the border between dreams and reality. We hope you enjoy your visit. Imythess is a creative writing board where you narrate the story of a character in the medieval land of Imythess, on the planet Chaon. Each topic is an opportunity for your character to interact with the world and its peoples by cooperatively writing pieces of a story with other members, one post at a time. We call this role-playing, because you assume the identity of your character as if it were your own. In order to play, you must register an account for each character you would like to write about, and begin their tale by filling out their basic profile information: Race (human, elf, demon, etc.), class (warrior, mage, etc.), physical appearance, and any other personal details you would like to describe. You are also encouraged to come up with some background history information for what your character's life has been like up to the point at which their story in Imythess begins. There is no approval process or application required to join, so long as you follow the rules then you are free to write whatever character details you choose. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Create a character now! If you're already a member, you can log into your account below: |
| [DNR] Birthing Rites; Do Not Reply | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Mon Jul 4, 2011 8:38 pm (407 Views) | |
| Nicodemus | Mon Jul 4, 2011 8:38 pm Post #1 |
![]() ![]()
|
Cassandra knelt at the altar, running her hand through the black mane of hair on Caine's neck. “I apologize, my dearest. It is time. Our culmination. We've done our part. This is what we are for.” Cassie wiped away a tear, sniffing into her arm. Patting the creature's neck, she stood. All about the cathedral, kneeling forms raised their heads, soulless golden eyes gazing to the front. Cassie looked over the forms of the Graye, shaking her head at the mockeries she had been so proud of. The time had come to create. Lifting her wand, Cassandra swept it in front herself, over the crowd. Where her wand passed, bodies slumped, released. Each began to dissolve as the animate force keeping them alive left them, becoming impossibly small piles of dust. Whipping her wand to the altar, she drew the dust together into an orb, sitting on the stone motionless. Despite a distinct lack of presence, Cassandra and Caine were not alone. As Cassandra wove enchantments over the orb of dust, spirits gathered around to watch the work, arms crossed, standing in a ring, a gap behind Cassandra. The spirits were clothed, each one's garb similar to the last. Murmurs echoed, voices layering over each other in a chorus, as Cassandra drew her blade, slicing her hand from wrist to elbow, letting blood flow freely into the orb. The blood was soaked into the orb, creating a solid mass. Fear flowed into Cassie as she watched her life ebb away, tears coming to her eyes. Bowing her head over the fleshy mass, she wept. Tears fell on the mass, sealing the enchantments. Removing the oversized cloak wrapped and tied around her, she took away all but her underdress, folding them and placing them on the altar, followed by mask, weapons, and the wand and orb. She backed up, kneeling on the cold stone beneath, touching her elbows to her ankles, legs folded beneath her. Leaning forward, her brow touched the floor, in a pool of her own blood. There she died. Caine lifted its head, opening its mouth. A moan echoed in the room. A spirit began to rise from Cassandra, though it was not a human in form. The soul was similar to those surrounding the orb. “Auriel of the keeper's line, do you accept this offering, the reclamation of our blood and birthright?” the voices spoke in a chorus, whispering ceasing. “I do.” The spirits nodded, each turning to face Auriel, walking forward, their essence blending with his own. The spirit approached the smooth mass of flesh, uncolored and unmarked. As he neared, his form grew more solid. Reaching forward, he clasped his hand around the egg-like orb. Flesh rushed into his fingertips, filling out the spiritual matrix of his soul. But a moment later, a man stood in the room, features contoured and angled at the same time, eyes amber and hair black, untamed. Looking over his form, he read over the tattoos bleeding into his flesh, rising from the surface. Not angelic glyphs, as they had been, but words, printed small and intricately, in a language similar to the Istani tribes' own. Reaching forward, he took up the robes, colored a burnt umber, slipping his arms into the sleeves, twisting it about himself, placing leather straps to bind it in place. Even twisted as it was, the cloak reached past his ankles, remaining loose about his legs for ease of movement. Slipping the mask into the folds of the robe, he left his hood down. Taking up the leather pouch of discs, he placed it on his sash, tying it in place. Looking down over what was left, he smiled. The metal band was plastered with runes of warding. Slipping it onto his bare right arm, he reached out a hand, summoning an ethereal curved shortsword. Letting it dissipate, he took up the last of his tools, the wand and orb. Pondering the two, he extended his reach beyond the physical, feeling the magic in each. Pouring his power into them, he watched as their physical forms dissipated, becoming a complex matrix of magical weaves and raw power. Satisfied, he let them take form again. He would fix them soon enough. Looking up to Caine, he placed a hand on the silent creature's face. “It has been some time, friend. A pity, what the sentinels have allowed you to become. Do not worry, I will return to you your body as it once was.” At his touch, Caine's eyes flared, a burning intellect and sense of being bursting into light. “At least you've survived, if barely. Better than I have done.” resting his other hand on the other side of Caine's head, he closed his eyes. Runes flared along his arms as he channeled power into them. Caine's form shivered, flesh peeling away, stitched bursting from their seams, hair falling from its pores, and bones shivering. The beastly creature folded into itself, a leathery layer of skin falling over a hollowed form. “Great gods I'm sore.” Came a voice Auriel recognized from the folds of leather. Laughing, Auriel offered a hand. Reaching from the hide came another tanned arm, grasping his forearm and lifting from the blanket of flesh. With amber eyes and brown hair came another desert man, the only Graye to have survived the ages. “The gods are no more, dear Cain. Just us mortals now.” They both grinned. Auriel stepped down and picked up a gray cloak that had remained, tossing it to the other. He donned it in a similar fashion to Auriel's, twisting and tying. “Looks like i'll have to save your sorry hide, hmm?” The two stepped from the church and into the rising dawn, sun's rays destroying the last traces of activity. “It is time for a new beginning.” |
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · The Ruins of an Ancient City · Next Topic » |




2:50 PM Jul 11

