| 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: |
| Cane someone help me, pleaase?! [o]; Ota. | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Fri Dec 7, 2012 3:00 am (179 Views) | |
| Gilworth Petroglitch | Fri Dec 7, 2012 3:00 am Post #1 |
![]() ![]()
|
Balefire was not a friendly place. It was dark and sinister, and there so many undead that it was wonder even the Drow were able to find a home here. Yet they most certainly had, for Gilworth had seen them all over the place these last few weeks. He had found steady work digging out a new swimming pool for a local nobleman; the foundation spot for an addition to a different nobleman’s house; and some trenches that were the basis of a city wall near one of the older, more dilapidated districts that the city wanted to renovate. Yet the longer he stayed here, the greater risk of being enslaved by the Drow grew - in his own mind, at least. He did not like this place. The Drow favored it because it was dark. That was also the reason that Gilworth had stayed here for so long; of course, there was also the fact that there was steady work here. Nonetheless, that work was going to be drying up very soon as the snow and ice was carried into the city by the winter wind from the north. He had personally encountered several Drow here, their demeanor as dark as their faces, and they had not bothered him; yet their presence here was a strong reminder of the omnipresent threat far below the surface world - that endless evil that subsisted in the Underdark. Tonight, there was a group of four Drow that seemed to be following him. It was unlikely that they actually were; coincidences did happen. But they had been at the work site; they had apparently made some kind of deal with the city for something. Gilworth had only heard a portion of their conversation so he wasn’t sure what the deal was all about and likely wouldn’t have been very happy if he had known. Then the Drow had been at the local market, picking up some rather nasty-looking potion ingredients at the same time that Gilworth had been picking up some fruit on his way to the inn. They had checked into the inn right before him, and they had been drinking quietly when he’d come to the Purple Lantern. He had finished his meal as quickly as possible and was now walking home alone. Though the sun never shone here, something Gilworth both liked and was used to, there was a very clear distinction between the working world of the ‘day’ and the so-called ‘night life’. People were at parties or walking home from their own respective businesses. They were mostly gone by the time that Gilworth had begun his slow walk back to the inn, however. The Dragon Baby had been around for nearly a century but looked as though it had never seen a day’s repairs. Despite a name that most surface girls seemed to consider ‘cute’ or ‘adorable’, the run-down look of the place - and of the place’s innkeeper - kept most people from going anywhere near the inn. The inside of the inn wasn’t much better and there was no tavern there; rooms, however, were relatively comfortable and very inexpensive. The bad part was that the nearest tavern was almost a mile away, and it was in a weird spot that was connected to by a long, narrow alleyway running half the length of the city. There were paved walks between buildings here and there but the blocks were long and there were few lanterns. It was along this lonely road that the gray-skinned gnome walked now. He didn’t have his shovel with him; it was locked in his room. He did have a small dagger and a coil of rope but that was about it. For the most part, things were quiet. There was the occasional stray cat or barking dog but there wasn’t much to see. It hadn’t rained in a while and there had been no snow yet. It was just cold, was all. Gilworth shrugged a little deeper into his clothes, wishing as he had many times in the past that he had the coin for a good pair of boots or at least a warm coat. The ground was just about frozen even without ice, and the lone lantern that he could see was way off in the distance. Thankfully, being a deep gnome, Gilworth needed no light. He was used to pitch-black caverns that his darkvision would penetrate with ease. He preferred to work in the dark, and this place had provided steady employment for six months now. It was the threat of winter that was making him think of walking away from here. He only hoped that he could find work elsewhere. He’d heard Cascadia was famous for its parties; perhaps he could find work there during the upcoming Mid-Winter Festival. It was a long way to travel but it might be the only way he could keep himself warm and fed. For about the hundredth time since he’d started this walk, Gilworth couldn’t help but look behind him. He breathed a small sigh of relief as he turned back but he knew it wouldn’t last. He didn’t like being in a city with so many Drow; unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice. Where there was darkness, there were Drow. This time, though, something odd crossed his mind and he looked back again. He wasn’t sure what he had seen, exactly, but neither did he wish to stick around to find out. He turned his gaze forward once more and hastened his pace - until he saw strange shapes in the distance. He squinted, not sure what was going on; they weren’t people and they were shrouded in darkness. Perhaps they were some kind of decoration magically hidden? Perhaps…or perhaps they were something else. Then he stopped and blinked, his eyes wide. He wasn’t sure but…he could have sworn they had just moved. It must have been his imagination. He shook his head and started forward, this time rather slowly, and glanced back one more time. It was after perhaps another ten minutes of walking that he heard a door slam somewhere up ahead. It made him jump, quite frankly, but he shook it off as someone walking outside for a bit of air. That happened a lot around here, as the long alleyway was a good place for some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, no more than three minutes after that, a loud crack just a few feet behind Gilworth made him jump about ten feet. He whirled around but saw nothing at first. Then he saw what looked like a massive peppermint stick with an equally massive hook on one end lying in several pieces along the ground. Staring at them for a moment, he blinked in horror when they began to slide back together. By the time his feet were finally telling him to get out of there as quickly as he could, the hook-ended peppermint stick was whole again and rising into the air. He didn’t scream. He just turned and ran. Buildings flew by him in a blur. Then he had to duck suddenly as a hook-ended peppermint stick took a swipe at him from nowhere! The next thing he knew, hook-ended peppermint sticks were coming out of everywhere and trying to bash him over the head. Someone was screaming in terror nearby, which certainly didn’t help Gilworth’s disposition at all. It took him several minutes to realize that he was the one screaming in terror! Then he stopped - but he certainly didn’t stop running. After being hit by about the fourth or fifth hook-ended peppermint stick, he threw his arms over his bald head to protect it as he ran. By this time, there were nearly a dozen flying hook-ended peppermint sticks trying to beat him to death! Oh, what a foul night this was! A FOUL NIGHT INDEED! |
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Balefire, the City of Lanterns · Next Topic » |




8:20 AM Jul 11

