| 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: |
| Scene #3 | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Thu Apr 22, 2010 7:58 pm (33 Views) | |
| Edward A. Wolfram | Thu Apr 22, 2010 7:58 pm Post #1 |
 
|
Wolfram was nearing the end of his supplies; the once heavy back pack he'd carried was now light and his hair had become greasy from the lack of bathing for the last few days. Now was the time the man considered turning back and returning home, and he was doing just that - had found a path and all, when he heard... sobbing. Curiousity piqued, he'd gone and investigated, only to find what looked to be a young man sat upon a tree stump, black robes bunched around him. The lad's head was hung low, dark hair hiding his face; his shoulders shook with every sob, and Wolfram winced uncomfortably. At the boy's feet were a series of tulips; much like the ones he'd encountered earlier on, and briefly he wondered if they were somehow the cause of the other's pain. After all, he looked like a rather... dark figure, and the evil people never did do well in bright, happy settings. "WHY SPARKY?? WHAT DID HE EVER DOOOOOOOOOO?" Ah. Apparently not. Wolfram hesitated from approaching the shady character, instead watching from afar and picking up words amidst sobbing, sniffling, and the blowing of the boy's nose (into the sleeve of his own robe no less - yick ). Something about a mysterious curse, and a tibe, and either slaughter or 'lotter' which could mean lottery or perhaps Wolfram heard the first part wrong and it was 'potter'. A tribe of potters? What was wrong with that? |
 |
 
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Norwood Forest · Next Topic » |
12:11 AM Feb 10
