| 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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| Tweet Topic Started: Sat Mar 9, 2013 10:04 pm (1,117 Views) | |
| Dyson Bremer | Wed Mar 20, 2013 12:20 am Post #16 |
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Dyson waited and listened as those he was with spoke to each other. So far he had yet to get a name out of either one of them and had been the only one to give his name as well. He wasn't sure why they each seemed so protective of something as simple as a name but clearly they believed something far different then Dyson. As the first stranger began to speak of two others, like the ones they had already encountered were still out there somewhere they appeared as if they had waited for a signal all along. Of the men that had joined the group Dyson at first noticed that one was much larger than the other. The smaller one appeared much like the others he had already seen but the larger one was a much different story. A large brute of a man and scars covered his face. With sword in hand he had thought he was ready for anything. Unfortunately he had not counted on magic as the man began to prepare some sort of spell derived from electricity. Dyson knew from experience that such spells were usually fast and hard to dodge. And as he released the spell Dyson saw as it impacted it's intended target and then jumped about much like lightning does and headed toward Dyson and the third of their party. And while the other was able to stop what had gone in his direction Dyson was neither fast enough nor skilled enough in magic to do anything about it as he was struck in the chest. Falling backwards and onto his hands and knees his sword on the ground by side the spell did its damage as he flinched from the pain. As Dyson wasn't the intended target and had only been hit by a small portion of the spell the effects were not as devastating. Slowly grasping his weapon and standing up again he prepared to defend himself. He would of felt more secure about their situation but it appeared that there would be no third to their party, which left Dyson alone against the two till the other recovered from the shock of the spell. |
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| Sentry | Wed Mar 20, 2013 8:22 am Post #17 |
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Sentry was thrown onto the grown with incredible force as the magical electricity carved through his insides. His hands and feet burnt and blistered instantly, the skin cracking and bleeding as if he were being cooked alive. He landed gracelessly on his back, and he would have cried out if his entire nervous system hadn't been overloaded, rendering motor functions useless. Spasming on the cold, stony earth, completely paralyzed, he watch the scene helplessly. It was all he could do. The purple lightning had caught Dyson in the chest, and the gray one had managed to avoid it completely, apparently trying to avoid conflict along with it. He didn't seem to realize that appeasement was pointless, unless the witch doctor were to join the criminals; Sentry had already slain one of their number. Now, the subordinate bandit, armed with a longsword and a small wooden buckler, charged forward, lunging at Dyson with a rather haphazard swing of a blade he was evidently not proficient with. He seemed to be relying on the lightning that had hopped onto Dyson to keep him from deflecting the blow. The lightning-wielder, on the other hand, stepped towards Ga'Zulu, a thick scowl on his brow. "You are one of the monsters I was warned about," the thug boomed, his voice like thunder. "I know better than to trust you. You have die or you will surrender!" and with that, another blast of purple lightning surged from his body, this time not channeled through his arm, but simply throwing itself at the witch doctor like an enormous wave of deadly energy. Sentry, still immobile and smoldering on the pavement, winced. He had no desire to feel the bite of the violet lightning again, but it seemed the bandits had left him for dead already. |
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| Aevis | Wed Mar 20, 2013 8:52 am Post #18 |
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Ga'Zulu stopped at the words of the large man, pausing to consider them and let them sink into his mind. It was quite humorous to him, after all. He would have liked to laugh, but all he could do was let a smile, hidden by the massive mask he wore, spread across his pale face as he let loose his spear so that he could absorb the intense energy safely away from him, to let the electricity dance around the point and the lantern and feed off into the staff. The force slapping it back and towards its owner, and the witch doctor dare not speak up of how obvious the magically-inclined brute was making his assaults. Once the weapon was well in hand, Ga'Zulu would finally allow himself to begin laughing in true amusement at the adjective. Monster. That was his father, but did he truly resemble the being so? "You do not know what a monster is, my friend." He would say with a light bit of cheer, "Yet if you wish me to be one, then I can oblige." He would return to his laughing for a moment before raising his free hand towards the large one and beginning his incantation. "Garazul, Fintaos Calir Suurs." The words would echo off of the death that made up the ruined city, and once completed the gray-skinned man would try to rush to take his leave while the bear of a man would no-doubt try to pick up the pieces of his no doubt addled mind. It was the curse of the Phantasmal Horror, a simple illusionary trick for one such as a child of Ga'Rica. To the victim it would show their worst fears, no matter what they may be. For now, Ga'Zulu did not comprehend how to invade one's mind and know their fear, but he could well enough leave them alone with it while he took his leave. Given how dangerous the situation seemed to want to turn, the godling would try to take his leave as quickly as he possibly could. This was not his fight, and he would not allow himself to be sucked into it so far as he could help it. Even if his father wanted him to participate in such an obnoxious event, Zulu was an individual who preferred to watch over events unfolding rather than act. He had done it for a few years now in Istan, and he had no intention of stopping at the command of his father's disembodied voice. The chickens and the turkey would watch the scene unfolding from the shadows, itching to act but knowing that they would be scolded by their master if they dared try throwing their lives away for him against such a charged foe. They knew it would be best to follow the master's orders and sit back, watch the show and try to enjoy it. They weren't very good at any of that, but they could still stay out of the way until they could peck at the unconscious, or dead, body of the inhumanly large man-thing.
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| Dyson Bremer | Fri Mar 22, 2013 2:03 am Post #19 |
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OOC: (Sorry for the late reply. We lost cable and internet for about 6 hours yesterday because of a small storm. By the time we got it back it was really late.) ~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~ Dyson stood and waited as the man before him began to call the masked thing a monster, that he would have to either surrender or die. Dyson wasn't sure what the masked man really was but at the moment such thoughts mattered little. He had more important things to worry about as one of the men charged in his direction. As the man attacked it was clearly evident that he did not know what he was doing. Dyson was only surprised that he had known which end of his rusty longsword to hold. At the moment his own buckler was not strapped to his arm so it would not be of any use, not that he would really have need of one. It was a simple matter deflect the blade with his own sending the man sprawling across the ground. This man was his enemy but felt no compulsion to kill him. The man before him on the ground had no skill with a blade what so ever, and killing him might as well be like killing an unarmed child, something that was not in him to do. Walking over to where the man had fallen he attempted to reach out his blade and try again but Dyson had had enough. Bringing his blade around and with great force he knocked the blade out his hand as it flew away and landed upon the ground well out of reach. Then placing the tip of his blade upon the neck of the person in question he took a good long look at the face of the man below him. The man seemed to be close to his own age, far too young to be going about with the likes of the man who was now targeting the masked man. And he appeared quite scared, and rightly so. Perhaps there was another option..... "You know not what you're getting into. Do yourself a favor and get out of here before you're killed. Forget your ties to these cutthroats and thieves and do something better with your life." Dyson stated and slowly removed the tip of his blade from the man's neck but kept it pointing in his direction. Whoever he was it seemed he was not the type that needed to be told twice. Forgetting his rusted blade entirely the man quickly scrambled to get to his feet and then ran off into the night. Dyson only hoped that what he had seen here tonight would scare him away from such a path again. Then turning to the masked man he waited for an opportunity to jump in and help if it was needed. ~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~ OOC: (Also If Sentry or Zulu are the type to not want to let the other bandit get away, I would suggest not auto hitting him as Dyson would likely try and put himself between you and the man in question.) Edited by Dyson Bremer, Fri Mar 22, 2013 2:11 am.
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| Sentry | Mon Mar 25, 2013 6:50 am Post #20 |
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As the bandit's surge of thunder was absorbed by the metal lantern hanging from the gray one's spear, his entire form shuddered visibly, as if a freezing wind was blowing over him. His eyes widened, panicked, and his form drew backwards, trying to escape some invisible threat. Sentry rolled onto his stomach slowly, watching the scene unfold, ignoring the smaller man, who had been convinced to escape by Dyson. At this point, Sentry hoped to draw more than enough information out of the two who were unconscious. An escapee was no matter to him now, so long as the sleeping ones were available. If bloodshed could be avoided, Sentry acknowledged that diplomacy was probably the best course of action. Frothing at the mouth, the lightning-wielder's eyes darted wildly from side to side, as if scanning hundreds of faces that were completely invisible to the other three. Suddenly, he shot his arm upwards violently, a long, narrow index finger pointed directly at the witch-doctor. "This one is a demon! Do not let it near you! Save yourselves before consorting with this vile creature! It must be purged!" Violet electric energy crackled around his hand, audibly buzzing and popping as it traveled along the length of his extended right arm. Sentry had no time to roll away as an enormous column of fiery-hot purple energy erupted from the ground upward, engulfing the place where Ga'Zulu had been standing. The Mistwalker collapsed a second time, his muscles giving out beneath him as he fell pathetically from a crouch on all fours. Despite the breadth of this column of energy, it seemed to be relatively less powerful than the smaller, more concentrated blasts that came from the crook's own body. A direct hit from a true fork of lightning that large might easily fry Ga'Zulu inside his massive helmet, but somehow, this magical imitation seemed to be more charged with stinging arcane energy than true electricity. In truth, the bandit had been forced to charge his attack with arcane energy rather than lightning to fuel its enormity, and while this had significantly reduced its lethality, it was a trade that he was confident would ensure a direct hit to the gray-skinned devil. Following the blast of energy, the bandit sheathed himself in magical armor, like a magnetic shield of crackling purple lightning, and drew a blade from his hip that was immediately encased in electricity. He stared wild-eyed and frenzied at the place where Ga'Zulu had been, confident that only the witch-doctor was a threat to him. |
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| Aevis | Tue Mar 26, 2013 8:59 am Post #21 |
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It was far too close for comfort in such a mortal shell, but the large man's reaction time was too slow, not by much but definitely slow enough. The witch doctor managed to clear the radius of the arcane pillar, though just barely, and almost immediately sought refuge behind the corpse of an old building. The word "demon" resonated within his mind, an amusing thought but not one he was about to fall prey to just yet. He needed to be sure that any threat would lose him in the shadows before he dare begin mocking something that seemed to posses so much power, especially now that he had forced it to be unpredictable and cast-happy by the planetouched being's phobia-inciting spell. So far it was what the godling was good at, and so it was what he typically tended to rely on in favor of having to suffer through the un-pleasantries of pain or extended combat. True, though, that one was rarely found without the other, Zulu did not care. Both were bad, and he wanted to avoid them. Once he believed himself to be safe from the purple-sparked being's range of attack and field of vision, Zulu let out a laugh, heavy with an accent that was definitely not of any Imythessian country. The accusations of demonic heritage were still so gloriously amusing to him, something he was sure that his father was reveling in as he watched from his domain. "Demon?" He asked aloud, almost as if confirming what the frightened man had called him, "You only wish it was that simple." The witch doctor wouldn't allow himself to stop moving as he hid from the threat, making sure to pick up stones and throw them about in this was and that behind buildings to catch the attention of the electrifying individual. "I doubt you're so deathly afraid of demons." The witch doctor assumed, making a quick stop in the shadows while examining his darkened lantern. Apparently the flame within, or more accurately what had fed it, did not enjoy being electrocuted, "But if it makes you feel safer, then call me a demon." True enough, Ga'Zulu considered himself to be on a different level than most of the demons he had encountered to date. A strong mind and healthy knowledge of several tactical spells helped him to that conclusion of his own capabilities, though even he realized that one could not simply judge an entire species by a few weak hell spawns. "Would you like to know the funniest thing about your fear, my friend?" He laughed again, stopping behind a different building and throwing a rock back from where he came from, just barely missing one of his fowl followers and offering a silent apology before continuing on, "You do not even realize what this heat is doing to you." The more the big man panicked, the quicker his heart raced. The more he cast magic, the quicker he exhausted himself. The more he chased after a being which did not want to be found, the more he sweat. Ga'Zulu had heard the spell referred to as "Dry Season" before. "And surely you will realize that you cannot stop, or I will finish you." |
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| Dyson Bremer | Wed Mar 27, 2013 12:31 am Post #22 |
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Dyson watched as the man before him tried yet again to attack the masked man with yet another spell. You think he would have learned by now. Though it looked to be a close call, the spell missed yet again. And then the masked man was gone, using the spell as a distraction to hide himself. From the shadows he continued to taunt and play on the man’s fears of the unknown and demons. So much so that he had erected a magical barrier around himself and drew a blade that was now also covered in the same electricity that he wielded. Dyson was not sure as to what he could do in this situation. The masked man was currently hiding and taunting the magic man. The other of them was still recovering from the first attack, which left him every much out in the open, alone. There wasn’t time, at any moment the magic man might turn his attention toward Dyson, the only one still standing that he could see. He wasn’t sure what type of barrier he was enveloped in but perhaps it was one for protecting himself from magic. If that were the case his sword just might be able to pierce it. With him completely focused on the masked man he had to try. Rushing forward sword in hand, switching his grip so he held it more like a dagger Dyson attempted to pierce the barrier and the man’s back. |
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| Sentry | Wed Mar 27, 2013 5:53 am Post #23 |
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Panting and heaving, the bandit stood in place, his electrical shield swirling around his form. His arms hung limp at his sides. He could feel his heart racing from the magical strain he had forced on himself. Electricity leapt through the course of his body, outrunning his blood and speeding the pace of his heart, only building on his panic. He could only carry on so long in this state, exerting his full power, but first the monster who haunted this place, the masked one, the one who talked to birds, would have to be destroyed. His eyes widened as the curtain of lightning disappeared and the dust cloud it conjured cleared up. Ga'Zulu was nowhere to be seen. His head darted madly from side to side, desperate to catch a glimpse of the devil before he might strike him to death. His blade, crackling menacingly with electrical energy, was pointed directly at the place where the witch-doctor had been standing. He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and he swirled a fraction of a second too late. The tip of Dyson's blade drove itself hard into his back, and he was pushed forward from the blunt impact. However, even the sharpened point of the weapon could not break through the electrical shield he had conjured around himself, and as Dyson's sword attempted to drive through it, it was repulsed violently, with all the same force the man had thrown into his lunge. Lightning from the criminal king's barrier engulfed the entire blade of Dyson's sword in an instant, forking up the hilt and towards the hand that gripped it. The bandit leader was thrown onto the ground. "You fool!" he roared. "You would raise your sword against me when there is a devil among us!? Or do you align yourself with the monster? Coward!" As he attempted to pull himself off of the ground, he launched a spinning globe of humming electricity from his hand. The bright white projectile hurled towards Dyson. With every volt of electricity the bandit conjured into his body, his heart raced faster, sweat ran more freely down his brow, and his breath came shorter. Panic still had a hold on him, his mind racing in terror from the image Ga'Zulu's magic had shown him. Meanwhile, Sentry had managed to stagger to his feet. |
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| Aevis | Fri Mar 29, 2013 10:08 am Post #24 |
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Well, Zulu had done his part in this encounter. Fear and heat, more than he had intended to do, but it wasn't very much for him to worry about. He smiled a bit to himself, well entirely to himself considering that his face was hidden by Sentima, his mask, but all the same it was intended for no other. In his mind he had just bested his father's intent for conflict, though no doubt such was the very reason that Ga'Rica may have lured the non-aggressors to this dilapidated city. Clever old god, but such was the skill of the Master of Puppets, always pulling the strings, always planning for things so far in advance that he plans for them to fail and then fail again. Some, even among the gods of Ga'Zulu's world, pondered whether or not Ga'Rica was gifted with the ability to predict all possible futures. Truly, such an ability would reinforce the thought that he also the God of Fate, but iwthout proof many simply chose to try and stay away from him. The poor fools who believed themselves to be safe from Ga'Rica. The planetouched gray man shook his head a bit and peered out from behind the building he currently hid behind. There, out in what could be equated to a clearing of sorts in the ruins were the three opponents remaining. The shadowy man, the Dyson man, and the fat man with purple lightning and no sense about him. The shadowy man was climbing to hi feet, the Dyson man was in trouble, and the fat man wasn't going to stay conscious for very much longer given his size and the amount of sweat that was pouring from his exposed skin. Very few could be prepared to fight against a being who prided himself on merely outlasting his attackers, rather than defeating them right-out. such a thing also could have made Ga'Zulu a rather effective ally, if he had ever chosen to seek out an alignment as his father so wished of him. Still the witch doctor came out victorious and almost tempted to simply leave the nameless city, but the thought was ruined by knowledge that his father would simply speak out against him and audibly force his son back to the city to follow his plans. Zulu may not have been as easily manipulated as many other beings, but Ga'rica knew that if he annoyed his child enough that Ga'Zulu would do just about anything he wanted him to. That being that, the witch doctor would turn his attention to one of his chickens, Irt by the look of it, and then gestured for him to return to his master's side. There may have been no particular need at the moment for a battle chicken, but Irt wasn't exactly going to do much good by continuing to bang his feathered head against the side of one of the old buildings for very much longer. Funny? Absolutely. Healthy? Quite possibly not. True enough, Ga'zulu had to care for Irt, otherwise he would have died long ago. Sadly he was also smarter than most normal chickens. |
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| Dyson Bremer | Sat Mar 30, 2013 5:50 am Post #25 |
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As Dyson’s blade made contact with the man’s shield he was repulsed, blown away landing square on his back more than several feet from where he had been before. For a moment he was stunned, both from the fall and the man’s electricity that had traveled up his blade. The shock however did not cause him to loose grip of his weapon, in fact his grip only tightened further as the muscles in his hand and forearm tightened in response. The masked man had yet to make another appearance and deep down he knew that he would receive little help from who or whatever it was. And out of the corner of his eye he could see the other at last getting back to his feet, though he still appeared to be a bit out of it. No, Dyson was still very much alone in this fight. And now, sprawled out on his back he found himself at the complete mercy of the magic man. But he couldn’t give up, there still had to be something he could do, though he was unsure what. It was at that moment however that another magical attack, a globe of electricity of some sort was shot in his direction. He was about to try and roll out of the way of the blast when a new sensation began to come over him. A power he had not felt before, and with it two words were branded into his memory from out of nowhere. The power continued to build and build till he thought it might consume him completely leaving nothing behind. Now too late to try and dodge he did the only thing he could think to do out of instinct. Raising his hand as if to block the blow he released the pent up magic as he shouted the words that were now known to him. “Garjzla Skölir!” Dyson Shouted as his eyes lit a fire in a white light and a light blue mist erupted from his outstretched hand. A shield spell, consisting of holy energy and as it formed a protective barrier before him the man’s electrical orb made contact. The spell had no effect, and the shield doing its job faded along with a portion of Dyson’s energy. Forcing himself to his feet he stood before his enemy, unsure what his next action should be. Edited by Dyson Bremer, Sat Mar 30, 2013 5:50 am.
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| Sentry | Fri Apr 5, 2013 7:21 am Post #26 |
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Staggering forward, finally rearing onto his feet, the bandit leader roared inaudibly. He no longer had the constitution to sort his thoughts into words; everything he tried to say came out as a scream of terrified fury. His only thought was survival, and at this point, survival meant the utter destruction of those who took arms against him; their deaths, at all costs, would ensure his survival. Electrical energy crackled and popped loudly as it ran along the length of his arms, shielding them as deadly violet sheathes of lightning. His breath came out as desperate pants and bestial coughing fits. His eyes seemed to bulge out of his sockets and his face was beet-red, drenched in sweat. There was a long pause as both combatants, Dyson and the thunder-wielder hesitated. Each one staring at the other. The bandit's heart pounded audibly, urged forward by the electricity building within his body. Every other physical exertion was secondary to the increasing frequency of his heartbeats. Stumbling dumbly forward, grunting and slobbering, he dropped his longsword. A chain of purple lightning connected his limb to the falling blade for only a moment, before it fell dormant on the dirt road. There was a sound like steel being torn apart as another blast of powerful white lightning built itself around the man's torso, extending from his arms and down from his shoulders, consuming his entire body as it slowly built outwards from him, a growing cocoon of electricity. Within the cocoon, the bandit was nothing but a human husk with a beating heart. Sweat poured from every surface of the unthinking man's purple flesh as he channeled more and more power through his own body. He was a human lightning rod, gathering electrical energy from the ambient mana in the environment, but he was also weaponizing the electricity as it was drawn to him, building a bomb encasing his entire body. The form of a man, completely enveloped by a swirling orb of violet-white lightning, moved towards Dyson, only managing to shuffle at a snail's pace, each belabored footstep adding to the growing orb of raw mana and electric energy. Sentry could feel his hair standing on end. He could feel electrical impulses shivering up and down his skin. Static electricity visibly crackled between his fingers as he held them protectively out between himself and the enormous lightning-cocoon. There was another sound like steel being torn in two—as if forcibly wrenched apart in an act of brutal violence—and the cocoon erupted. A wave of lightning surged from the seizing form of the bandit leader, breaking the sound barrier and sending bits of debris flying backwards. Electricity surged through any conductive material in its path—Sentry's body became a living circuit as he was hurled backwards, raw magic and frighteningly powerful electrical energy searing through his body and cooking him from the inside out. He landed a smoking, unconscious husk several yards away. The bandit's fate, however, was worst of all. He had made himself the fissile of his devastating attack—the detonator of a living atom bomb. His heart stopped, bursting apart from the strain, long before an unstoppable eruption of lightning tore his body to pieces. He was left in unrecognizable blackened pieces of smelling flesh. Tiny forks of violet lightning leapt from bit to bit of his brutally dismembered body. |
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| Aevis | Fri Apr 5, 2013 9:10 am Post #27 |
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Ga'Zulu peered from behind his cover as things began to sound strange for this world of mortal men. What he believed he had heard had sounded strange, so he had felt the overwhelming compulsion to confirm it with his eyes. Lo and behold, what he saw was as he had heard. Metal dropped against stone, the electricity bleeding from it quickly as its master trudged forward in a final attempt at victory. Or at least that's what it could so easily seem like. That was the look of a dead man, consumed by terror and electricity, the power which bit back so easily if left unchecked. Whether it was the man's primal instinct or the electricity's will which guided him forward was uncertain, but what was certain was that he was not much longer for this world, as was so clear. The energy was eating him apart from the inside, trying to rip its way out. Such was not the sight for dumb birds, and neither would it be well for the witch doctor's mask. The godling removed his sight along with his curiosity from danger, ducking back behind his old covering and turning his back to its "entrance." Within moments the burst came as predicted, l\purple electricity lashing outwards and to anything it could find to sustain its life, no matter how short. It wanted so badly at the gray man's helmet, but all it could lash against was his pale flesh, burning him, stinging him but still not reaching its desire. Then as quickly as it had come, the lightning died away from his skin, no doubt upset in its final moments that it could not charge through the strange metal of his helmet and into his mind. Yet such was life, no matter how shot, filled with disappointment. Once it was deemed completely safe of the bandit group, the witch doctor would weak into the clearing, his spear used for support and his dumb bird at his side as he took a quick look around. For a moment his gaze would fall upon the large, dead man, giving a quick examination to what was left. Once he found himself satisfied with what he saw, what he would claim as his work if no other sought to, he would give a cursory glance to the other two. Things had not gone well for them, yet at the same time Ga'Zulu recognized them as being primarily responsible for wearing out the large beast of a man, even if the shadowy one had only been primarily used as a lightning rod. So this was what Ga'Rica had called the witch doctor here for? To see the wills of men pitted against one another? He would have spat if he were not wearing his obscuring mask. Fine, if that was how it was to be, then he could see what he could do to aid. Slowly he would progress out and into the more open space, his gaze wandering as he approached the most wounded of the two men, examining the electricity scorched area before finally resting his gaze upon his newest patient. It had been a while since he did any actual doctoring, so this was sure to prove interesting. |
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| Dyson Bremer | Sat Apr 6, 2013 7:30 am Post #28 |
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Dyson continued to stand where he was. After all that had happened he was not sure he had enough energy to continue to fight. He could barely keep his sword off the ground and his breathing had become labored, though the same seemed true for the lightning man before him. Even with all his power it seemed like his body was about to give out. As Dyson continued to watch the man seemed to be losing control of his abilities and lightning seemed to bounce about randomly. All the while a great mass of energy was forming around the man’s body. The man was sweating like crazy and inch by inch was making his way toward Dyson. For the time Dyson’s mind was blank. He knew not how he was going to protect himself from this. He thought of his shield and its ability to reflect magic but it wasn’t exactly being directed at him. More like it was about to go off like a bomb. Taking several paces backwards he began to look for some sort of cover but found none. He was quite literally standing in the middle with no release in sight, and it looked like he was about to go off. Which meant not enough time to get out of the way, though he was too tired to even try. Then the blast went off. Dyson had just enough time to swing his shield around in front of him, not that it would help much. As expected Dyson was blasted backwards hit by both the shockwave and electrical discharge. Flying several yards his back slammed into a wall behind him and he slumped down, unconscious. While oblivious to the world he did not notice the masked man come out of hiding at last, nor did he knew the fate of the electricity man. |
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| Sentry | Wed Apr 10, 2013 8:44 pm Post #29 |
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Sentry slept soundly, thoughtlessly, through the aftermath of the bandit's explosion. Nearby, the zone of slumber he had conjured evaporated, and the two bandits groggily awoke, only to slink away into the shadows, before anybody noticed they were awake, ignorant to the identity of the mangled pile of charred flesh that lay near the three strangers down the road. The Mistwalker's wounds were numerous; charred and blistered skin coated his hands and feet, as well as his torso, where the brunt of the bandit's attacks had struck him. A throwing knife was fused into the flesh of his wrist, burnt into a slew of black, melted flesh. Neural pathways all through his body were damaged and severed; the magic of Aldenrath that flowed through him was powerful, but it couldn't regenerate all wounds. It was unlikely that once he woke, he would even be able to stand without the proper attention of healing magic. |
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6:57 PM Jul 11

