| 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: |
| [P] Repairs; Amicus | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Fri Oct 16, 2009 3:41 am (69 Views) | |
| Cadfael Bristow | Fri Oct 16, 2009 3:41 am Post #1 |
 
|
Not a crow cawed, not a sparrow sang in the desolate ruins. Wildlife seemed to avoid the place, one of several places overrun with undead. The smell had long since set into the city, the smell of corpses rotting away as their fragile existence withered to nothing, good magics wasted with endless wanderings. There were so many better uses for these master-less souls. A new shadow appeared, a limp in his left leg impeding his progress. It had been at least four months since he'd replaced a leg, and one was beginning to fail him already. Pulling a heavy leather sack behind him, the man cloaked in burial shrouds strolled along, passing by a ghoul unnoticed. No life to be drawn to, Cadfael was merely one of the numerous undead wandering the roads. Dragging himself into a partially-caved in room, a space inside one of the crumbled castle rooks, he set down on a single rotting chair there, dragging the sack next to him. Untying the string, he opened it and dug through the various body parts inside, moving aside hands and arms. The best leg was in the middle, wedged between a forearm and a torso. Tugging it free, he ignored the hand falling out of the sack. Setting the limb on the table, he drew a knife from beneath his shrouds. Gripping it tightly, he hiked up his robe-like clothes with his left hand, baring the rotting leg beneath. With a steady hand and an expressionless face, he drew the edge along the flesh. Sawing through the stitches and flesh with surgical precision, guided by years of practice, Cadfael removed the leg. Tossing it into a corner of the room, he picked up the newer one, placing it against the stump. Sheathing his blade, he lifted a finger and traced it along the seam, whispering an incantation. Fresh stitches flew from the gaps on his fingertips, weaving flesh together. |
 |
 
|
| Amicus | Fri Oct 16, 2009 8:23 am Post #2 |
|
It was in a moment of his master’s distraction, but Servus knew to take advantage of it. Punishment would come tenfold compared to what it usually was, but he knew a moment’s worth of freedom could keep him in good mental health. While the straight jacketed boy ran, he didn’t even think about the fact that his master could easily catch him, as long as he didn’t resist when being put back in the padded box, Chom wouldn’t kill him. As long as he could remember, it had been no more than him and his sadistic master, he rarely ran away, mainly because he didn’t know how to survive on his own, despite the unending cruelty of the gray demon, for some reason it kept him alive. The boy would perhaps never know why, but it didn’t matter, even with his limited knowledge, even he could realize that the demon was in no real way related to him. Being taken as young as he was, Servus never knew his parents, nor what kind of being he was, he had simply been called “Sklave” and “Servus” for the entirety of his life. He had run for near an hour, falling at mile intervals. He was tired, his legs moaned in pain, but he thought that if he could simply run long enough, fast enough, it would be a while before Chom could find him, before he was forced to return to the accursed box. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he knew it was some old city, ruined and inhabited by mindless dead who either weren’t yet aware of his presence, or actually fearful of the demonic smell the child held from being around the powerful demon for so many years. Moments passed as he regained his energy, and it wasn’t long before the hungering dead were aware of his presence. Somehow they were silent, three leaping at the exhausted Aasimar. But his movements were quick and powerful, with a sweep of his legs the three rotting heads were removed easily from their shoulders; but more were coming, he needed to find a safe place or be devoured. He stumbled, his legs still in pain until he came to an old stone building with a large hole. They might not be far behind, but it was worth the risk. He used what energy he could and sprinted through the hole into a room which had extensive damage, part of its ceiling caved down. However, he had charged in with his eyes shut tight, just hoping and wishing they wouldn’t find him in here. He charged and slammed against one of the dusty stone walls, and though it had been aged and weakened, it held firm against the child’s force. He lied for a moment in pain before he opened his eyes. There didn’t seem to be and ghouls chasing after him, simply a man in dirty clothes sitting on an old rotting chair. “Das sie sind?” Servus asked in the demonic tongue, praying in his mind that this was not some beast that had been waiting for a meal to enter its domain. |
|
|
|
| Cadfael Bristow | Sun Oct 18, 2009 4:56 am Post #3 |
|
Cadfael's visage remained emotionless throughout the procedure, linking muscles and bone to his satisfaction. Placing the finishing stitches over the seam, he flexed the toes. They reacted jerkily at first, sliding free of their setting, but moves smoothly after a moment of testing the new limb. Snipping the last of the thread from his fingertips down to the skin left little black dots, the remnants of the spell. Made of his own sinews, the stitches would function as flesh, growing and sealing themselves to the skin more than any fabric could. Standing, he sighed, content. He could feel the disturbance outside, the occasional moan of the undead roaming the city having fallen silent. They were hunting someone. Shaking his head, Cadfael walked over to a large bulge covered with a sheet in the center of the room, moved in earlier that evening. Whipping the sheet free revealed a humanoid figure, hugging its legs, limbs bound together, elbows pinioned. The form didn't breathe or move, but it was animate. In hibernation, but animate. Cadfael drew his blade, the edge sharpened to a razor point. With one upward slash, he severed the cords binding the being. A shudder ran down its spine. Bending over, the rotting vampire lifted the creature with deceptive strength, setting it flat on its back. Smiling to himself, he pulled up his sleeves, rolling them past his elbows. It was time to wake his newest creation. Speaking his incantation in an undertone, he placed his palms together, a blue-black aura pulsing steadily. Drawing them away, he gently placed his palms on either side of the humanoid's head. Setting to healing the barrier in its mind, he put himself into the spell, guiding it to his previous bindings. Slowly they came apart, the delicate procedure almost complete. A slam interrupted his thoughts, making him butcher the verbal piece of the magic. The spell changed, freezing the undead and any just outside the door. Letting go of it before he ruined the servant, he glared at the intruder. It was a young boy in a restraining jacket, the appearance giving pause to the impending speech. “Pardon?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. |
|
|
|
| Amicus | Sun Oct 18, 2009 8:50 am Post #4 |
|
Servus didn’t understand how this man could not understand him, he had, after all, asked a rather simple question. “Ich bat, das Sie sind?” He asked again with a bit more ease. He still did not fully understand what this man was in front of him, but he felt more comfortable when he asked that question in return. If he was undead, he didn’t seem to be hostile; in fact he already seemed to show a higher intelligence than those ghouls that had moments ago tried to eat the poor slave. Having calmed down with the subdued adrenaline, the boy took a moment to look at where he was, exactly. Only a moment ago he thought he was about to be eaten by a horde of rotting beasts, his only thoughts were about surviving the encounter and running for his life. Now he saw the partial room for what it was, an old area, wood rotted and stone crumbled. What furniture was in there seemed to be on the verge of collapse itself. Easily, Servus stood from the dirt-covered ground, kicking the dirt from his pants the best he could and stretching to his fullest extent. “Mein Name ist Servus.” He said, not even realizing how close the demonic tongue was to the common-tongue most people of Imythess used. Though perhaps it would ease the way into making a friend in this old and rotting city of undead; or perhaps this was a being who knew of Chom and would turn to be a monster. |
|
|
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · The Ruins of an Ancient City · Next Topic » |
12:21 AM Feb 10
