| 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: |
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| Shining Sun {P} | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sat Jul 9, 2011 5:42 pm (679 Views) | |
| Ezekial Smith | Sun Jul 17, 2011 12:25 am Post #16 |
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Ezekial stood in a cautious stance while the demon hovered for just a second. The demon's eyes burned brightly, like burning coals beneath a heavy helmet. It was at this moment that Ezekial felt the first pangs of fear, realizing that within those bright coals were the first small threads of insanity, of lust of death and control. He could tell that this person, if it could truly be called a person, was enjoying every moment of this battle, deriving an indecent pleasure from being harmed and playing the situation, and in seeing the little boy run away. It was the latter that particularly inflamed Ezekial, and made his blood boil with a fury that terrified him in its fervor. His grip tightened upon his blades, and the flames around the Tengoku-to-Jigoku danced with an almost child-like glee, responding to the tranquil rage that burned through the old priest. Similarly, the glow around the Yawarakai-Te strengthened, and began to coalesce into an image of flames similar to its sibling blade, incorporeal flames the color of snow. The blades seemed to take on a life of their own, not content to simply be an extension of their master, but to be equals, if not higher. With their apparent spirit, they seemed to desire the blood of this drek just as much as the priest charged with purification. The demon dove, wings tucked in, and the priest drew back, raising swords to pierce the flesh of the demon if it came close, but the old elf was cautious of this reckless maneuver. A demon of that type would not be so reckless as that and risk purification by fire. Therefore, he was not incredibly surprised when the demon pulled out of the dive early, his wings flung wide. Despite himself, he felt his body begin to lunge forward, and pulled himself back. He could see that his wounds on the demon had already healed, and that the one inflicted by Yawarakai-Te was steaming. He swore internally, and looked around him, careful to keep the demon in his peripheral vision. The crowd was beginning to gather, and he could see one person go to get the guards. His little fly dragon was by his side, hissing at the demon, and a man stepped forward and shouted. "Hey! What do you two think you're doing?! The man was overweight, but not morbidly, and his stomach hung over his belt. His face was red, and was filled with indignation. Ezekial swore again, and realized that this had gone on far too long to avoid harming those around him, and also that he would be unable to fight the demon. He began to take steps back to the crowd, and shouted, "Make a hole!" before charging through the crowd, running with his swords at his side. The crowd became afraid at this madman, and split to allow him to barrel down the street, in the same direction as the young Aasimar, but more important to defeating the demon, an area not frequented by the people of the city. This way he could fight the demon without worrying about others getting hurt. He couldn't be sure that the demon would follow him, but he had a hunch that the demon would lot enjoy his prey escaping him, and at this pace, Ezekial would soon be gone. |
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| Ah'Har | Mon Jul 18, 2011 4:57 am Post #17 |
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With a resounding low echo of the thud created when Chom’s boots landed heavily upon the stone ground, he chuckled, his wings fully outstretched and beating lightly, an imposing sight, a truly imposing demon… An understatement, he was well on his way to becoming an arch, and when that day came he would simply become so much more dangerous with a single bound. Truth be told, the demon could have advanced so long ago, but found too much joy in playing around, it kept his power locked high enough, below the level of archdemon, yet at the same time kept him at being a rather unpredictable level of power or ability. At times he acted like nothing more than a raging berserker, other times a skilled hunter, and others a true warlord who could plan out his moves ahead of time. This time seemed to be the first-most former, the role of berserker, with a bit of the second-latter, the hunter running down his pray, and all that stood in his way, like some mad beast. It was a role he was modeling after a different kind of his ilk, though an encounter with the original design would surely prove fatal for such a reason. Looking down upon the frail form of the old elf, the demon couldn’t help but question a few things, though not losing that insane smile which wreaked not of madness but instead of superiority, definitely a complex that the demon held in high regards, coupled with pride in all the pain and misery it caused. The fact that of everything, an old man with a couple of sword and a high risk of breaking his hip was the only one willing to stand up and fight against him, perhaps some sort of war veteran from Taras, maybe just an old codger with nothing left to lose, wanting to go out in a blaze of glory, giving enough time to save some once-slave from his recurring fate. And then the old man seemed to do the smartest thing that he could, he ran; but of all directions he ran in the same one that the aasimar rabbit had chosen. The demon, Chom, let out yet another frightening laugh, a heavy beat of his black wings and he was launched into the air, just enough so that he could launch himself forward and after the old man, taunting behind by about a yard, laughing insanely and full-ready to rip the geezer’s skull from his neck. Though, something which the demon could not seem to perceive, having forgotten about such a thing, once the old man was to exit the alleyway through the end opposite his entrance to it, the demon behind him would be met full-force with the blunt strike of a holy mace to the face, something combined with his speed would cause a massive level of damage which would take at least a full half hour to completely heal back correctly, and leave him fully-steamed. |
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| Ezekial Smith | Sat Jul 23, 2011 2:23 pm Post #18 |
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Ezekial turned when he heard a loud, bone-crunching thud, using the moment to sheath his weapons, easily sliding his wakizashi in its scabbard, and doing a slightly more complex maneuver for the katana. He cupped his hand around the lip of the sheathe, rested the blunt edge against the web between his thumb and forefinger, near the guard, and moved the blade to the point. When he felt the point cross the webbing, his tilted up the handle and slid the blade easily into the waiting sheath. That series of movements was referred to as "noto". Turning back, he saw a giant of a man, standing at nearly eight feet, fully armored in adamantium armor, shined to a bright gleam. The man's breastplate held an emblem, a fist wreathed in green flames, and in one great fist was clutched a mighty mace, a shestopyor, a type of flanged mace from a far off land with six flanges, in the shape of an arrow's feathers. The shestopyor was heavy enough so that a human would struggle to lift it with both hands, but this person hefted it easily with one. His gauntlets had a flat surface on the outer circuit, as if to use to aggress a man, and they looked as heavy as the head of an anvil. Ezekial thought to himself that this man must have the strength of a mighty bull to withstand the weight. A curiosity struck him, what did the man look like? Looking up, a hand over his eyes to keep out the sun, he saw a great bear's head sprouting from the lip of the breastplate, wearing no helmet. The bear laughed boisterously, and spoke in a heavy Slavic accent, although his Common was syntactically very good. "What luck I must have! I am sent out to fight a demon, and look at this, I find a demon! The Son of Callan will be pleased with me now!" He looked behind him, and to the old man, and said, "Oh, old man, you are here as well? Is this bear troubling you? Ezekial laughed, recognizing the tall bear now as a warrior he had seen in the religious compound in Taras, named Medvedev. He nodded, and the bear said, "Go, you were chasing after someone, I will hold off this demon. The bear-man held his pernach ready to swing at the demon, whose face was already crushed somewhat by the first strike. The bear was impressed that the demon had survived the blow to begin with, for he had swung with all of his might, and the demon had flown straight into its flanged head. He was confident in his abilities, but if Ezekial was forced to turn tail and run from this beast, he doubted that he could kill it. His goal now was to keep the demon from chasing down the old man, at least for a minute or so. It was not much, but it would certainly allow Ezekial to set up another plan. "Come now, demon! Let's dance. Ezekial charged down the paved road, hearing loud sounds of battle behind him. He was worried for Medvedev, but he remembered that he was near impossible to kill, a virtual Rasputin. He was a strong fighter in his own right, and loved the battle almost as much as the drink, and an enemy would be hard-pressed to force him to abandon either. Running, he heard a shout in his mind from his little fly dragon. Zeke! I found him! Good, either tell me where he is, or bring him to the clearing. On it, boss. He soon heard a location from the dragon, and barreled down several alleyways to get to the place where the little Aasimar was. The little fly dragon flitted around the boy, now if the form of a rabbit, racing away, straining to keep up. She light upon his back for a moment, trying to point him to the clearing, and returned to her laborious flight. I don't think this will work, Zeke. Edited by Ezekial Smith, Sun Aug 7, 2011 8:59 pm.
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| Ah'Har | Thu Aug 11, 2011 9:11 am Post #19 |
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Slowly the demon rose from the dirt path ground, spitting out quite the bit of blood and falling into a moment’s worth of coughing fit, and considering the wound, it was rather minimal. His leather flying headgear had been crushed from the blow, practically falling off from the strike. The blow was heavy-handed, but the least he would expect from a paladin, as he could only guess the one who had lashed out at him was. Chom grasped the bird-like helmet tight in his hand pulling it off of his head and tossing it to the ground, revealing a busted nose, blood as black as a starless night running from it, his eyes as deep and dark red as the blood of any normal creature, and filled to the very brim with hate. The smile that had found its delight in the chase was lost to the agony of pain, replaced with an expression of scorn as he looked to the bear-man. He stood steady, though. Unwavering in his movements and keeping a distance back. Now the game had changed, he would need to figure out its rules now that the bear had entered, so it seemed as if the scared little bunny and the old crotchety man had managed to win this round with the addition of a new player to their team. The alleyway hindered Chom very little as his wings spread out, lifting him swiftly from the alley and into the sky, flying towards the sun to blind the bear-man and make an escape while he could heal and devise a new plan of attack. Meanwhile, Amicus did not stop to look back, he did not want to stop or look back, he just wanted to run, and so he did, his speed increased by his rabbit form as he ducked and weaved through as many places as he could, alleyways and stores, even a house or two, just to try and lose the demon chasing him, the nightmare that wanted to enslave him once more, to make him kill again. He didn’t want to kill, even through all of those years of such darkness, he had never become a fully obedient servant, he just wanted to be free, to have fun, to actually see what it was like to be a child growing up in the world without having to kill people at the whim of some sadistic gray demon. What felt like half an hour must have passed before he finally slowed down, hiding underneath a house, quivering in fear. He hated having to live in fear, to look over his shoulder. He had found it to be a blessing when he found those retired paladins, brimming with their holy magics and weaponry, ready and willing to protect the child from his demonic ex-master who always seemed to slip their clutches, their blades and their maces. He was tricky, he was smart and he was fast. They managed to beat him down by their years of veteran skill that had piled up from fighting such things as him on a somewhat regular basis. Whereas he barely ever came across paladins, he was smarter than to stay in one place for too long, and he was smarter than to draw and unnecessary amount of attention to himself outside of the demonic under-channels. He was Chom, he was a deadly demon, and yet he seemed to love emulating other fiends. |
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8:22 AM Jul 11

