Mystic_Warrior, The Wordsmith

Member Since


Last Activity

7/2/2020 9:58 AM

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1 win / 0 losses





I've gone a long time avoiding the task of filling this in with an actual introduction, but here it is. My CYS name is Mystic Warrior, so feel free to call me Myst or any other variation of my name you prefer.

I'm currently a student in high school, and working on a storygame (as for the quality of this, I'll leave it up to the readers to decide). 

If anyone wants to, feel free to message me. I might not always reply immediately, but I'll eventually get back to you.

If you're wondering why this profile page seems so blank, it is because it is in the process of being written. So hop along, and go read a different profile.

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Earning 100 Points

Recent Posts

June is Noob Threshing Month! on 6/7/2020 9:40:21 PM

Edit locked. 

June is Noob Threshing Month! on 6/7/2020 9:39:21 PM

I would like to join this. Hopefully, an imminent deadline would push me to complete a storygame.

OUTBREAK FEVER Writing Jam! on 3/19/2020 1:15:39 AM

Yesterday, I had a burst of inspiration and wrote this. Here goes nothing...

Part 1: A novel solution

Connie’s POV

My hands are shaking. I’m drowning in a flood of my own sweat. Of course it’s today. Of all days! For once, I decide to take a break from my tedious study schedule. For once, I didn’t come prepared. Of all the things I hate, the one thing I despise the most is inevitable failure. Then the invigilator walks in.

“Applicants of University SOTF. Please take your seats, the exam would begin in a few minutes.” She has the barest glimpse of a smile on her stoic countenance, almost as if she enjoys seeing us nervous. The she turns towards us, and I have the strangest feeling that her next comment is directed at me. “Remember, only out of the fifty of you get in. So expect to fail.”

The timer is pressed. A frenzy of students all around me begin writing, hastily scribbling borderline legible answers onto the paper. However, my mind goes blank. The world becomes blurry, and everything in the room becomes a distraction. One or two students look up at me, shocked that I am not writing anything, then look back to their papers. Every second is precious, that is what they have taught us to believe. So I decide not a waste another second.

I skip straight to the essay question. It is worth the most marks, so I should start with it. I force my brain to make out the question, to focus on it as if it is the most important thing in the world. Because it is. I have to get in.

Like lots of exam questions, it is unnecessarily dripping with excessively sophisticated-sounding words and a long question that can be summarized by a single phrase. It is almost as if the examiner wants to snidely intimidate students through this paper, creating the aura of fear through the blank spaces after the eloquent block of text. Yet, it is my only chance.

Black Plaque revolutionized the world, his self-acclaimed 'arbitrary’ masterpiece receiving the esteemed title of ‘Pandemic’. Cancer ignited the flames of rebellion, bringing with him the core values of our lands - the values which this University’s name was founded. Yet, in status quo, the Docs and Scints believe those wars are won. Humanity has gotten too comfortable with their weaknesses. Propose a novel solution that could eradicate the weakest links.

The first thing I notice is that the question is not a question. However, I manage to breathe again. This was just creative writing. Nothing more. For once, my overactive imagination seems less like a curse and more like a… blessing. So I write, letting my mind go loose. I think of my estranged uncle, working with computers. What was his name? Ah, Trojan. Mr. Trojan Virusse. What if this solution releases little particles… shapeshifters! What if they could cloak themselves by hiding within unhygenic surfaces and shapeshift when they are ready to consume the Weakies? They would not be easy to detect. And the symptoms… common ones. Being under the radar would mean that the Docs think it is an old attack. It’s always good when we are severely underestimated by our enemies. How about the beginning? Where would it all start? Animals! Bats! I’ve always liked bats. Or can it be undefined? That would take the Scints longer to learn about it. I let my mind wander, entertaining the endless possibilities. This was certainly novel! I mindlessly doodle ‘novel’ in front of my name, smiling. Could that be what the solution would be called? Then I immediately continue writing the essay. Before long, the time is up. And with a sinking feeling in my gut, I realize that I have only attempted the essay and nothing else. As I said, I have already failed.

Today, I’m waiting with a group of other hopefuls in the hall. Sooner or later, the principal of SOTF would emerge from the mahogany door, announcing the name of the one lucky student selected to attend. My horrible performance ensures that I would not get picked, but I decided to come anyway to cheer for my friend Bacty as she has a high likelihood of getting in. The doors open. The principal walks out to give his speech.

“Now, I’m sure that you know the values of our University. The acronyms make it obvious - Survival of the Fittest. To honour this, we only pick one student each year. However, under some… special circumstances, one of you have performed exceedingly well in a specific area of the test. Your place at the University is not guaranteed, but it is imperative we have  a chat. So, I would first like to meet with you, Ms. Virusse.”

Bacty turns to me, her eyes as wide as saucers. I cannot believe that my name was called. However, the principal beckons towards me, so I hurry forward. The doors were close behind us. He looks at me, and says something that would change my life forever.

“How would you feel about making your novel solution a reality?”

Part 2: A new war

Infal’s POV

The Docs have been working since morning, and the Scints are still buried under mountains of paperwork. But this new enemy is relentless. I have heard rumors that the attacks were orchestrated by a teenage girl, but I do not know what to believe. It’s a crazy idea, with shapeshifters and the like. The Docs are being pushed back. It’s the worst time to be an intern.

As if to prove my point, a Doc shoves a heavy pile of boxes in my face. “New protection gear! Pass them around, will you, intern.”

I cautiously peered into the box, only to find… “Amulets?”

“Yes, amulets. Weakens the force of our enemies, makes them more susceptible to attacks. Key Ingredients: Wash hands, don’t touch your face, and social distancing. Also, we’ve ran out of masks.”

“Social distancing?” I remembered what I had learnt last semester about it. “Isn’t that a very rare ingredient, only reserved for the most dangerous attacks? And…” I let the unsaid words hang thick in the air, remembering what was written: ‘If used, there’s a high chance that the war’s already lost’

“How about Water?” I ask, eager to change the topic. “And Fire.”

“Well…Fire is on the side of Hygiene, as usual. As you know, Hygiene always opposes Unhygiene, and Unhygiene has never failed the aristocratic family of Virusse.”

I just nodded. The attacks have been long suspected to be works of the Virusse house. “What about Water? She used to be close to Hygiene-”

“Key words being ‘used to’. Water has decided to sit out of this. She allows the new Virusse soldiers to travel via her channels and air particles in order to affect the weakest of us. However, when bonded with Heat, Soap, or even a high pressure, Water can prove useful in killing the Virusse attackers.” Then he wave me along to pass out the amulets.

It’s been a long war, and it all becomes a hazy memory. I remember running, hiding, healing, eating, passing out defensive weapons, and a hardly sleeping. Until darkness burst out of the cracks of the Earth, hope was vanquished with a swipe of a blade, and was left to bleed a flood of hopelessness, despair, and failure. It washed over everyone of us, and the optimistic lens through which I viewed the world was so brutally snatched away from me. I noticed the sagging shoulders every Doc had gained from days of endless fighting, the bruises through which all remaining strength seeped out slowly. We had not heard word from the Scints - those Scientists were still hunting for social distancing. Now and then, we heard that a remedy was found. But it was only Hope’s evil twin - False Hope.

One day, they broke through our final defense line. We were completely, utterly exposed. By this time, all my dreams of becoming a Doc was drowned along with thousands of innocent infantile desires. All that we could wish for was to survive one day at a time, and that in itself was a miracle.

I watched as they got snatched, consumed. The people I grew up with. The people who brought joy to my life in the darkest times. And for what reason? Because some arrogant Virusse decided that these people were ‘weak’. Who were they to judge? Who gave a dam about Survival of the Fittest when innocents were feeling the last strands of life leaving their cold, empty bodies? Then, in that moment of cold fury, I felt a sense of righteousness surge through me. I was going straight to the source.

Part 3: The face behind the mask

Connie’s POV

Ever felt as though your whole life was a facade? All part of an act, a play, a pretense. That’s exactly how I feel. In just a few moments, I met with countless officials, most of them whose faces I could not remember, let alone their names. I smiled, I chatted, I nodded. But it seems that all they were interested in was the mask, not the face behind it.

Years ago, this would have been a total freak out moment. However, I managed to just nod emotionlessly as they told me that I was to ride behind our forces as we manage to overcome the Docs - or if I have to be formal - Warrior Doctors of the Twelfth Line of Defense… and yup, pretty sure I said that wrongly. But I go on with the act. The haughty, elegant, born - battlequeen Virusse. Just before I leave the house, I throw on a dark cloak. It looks something like a Grim Reaper outfit, a replica of Death’s cloak. To the untrained eye, the Virusse symbol and the delicate stitching of the embroidered patterns around the wrist would be missed or easily mistaken. Yet it is important for the show. To complete it, I obscure my face within the shadows, the mask before my face. Because it is not me that should be here today, but rather the mask. Virusse rather than Connie.

The march goes smoothly. From the hood, I can only make out silhouettes. The sounds tell me that we are winning. So I go on. Then I heard a different sound, a shout of anger in a sea of triumph. I lift my hood slightly, and make out a boy around my age. His face is contorted by anger.

“Fight me if you dare, you coward!” he screamed. “It’s just so easy to sit there all high and mighty, isn’t it? But come down to where the action is! Where innocent blood is on your hand, and no amount of Water may wash it off, no Fire is strong enough to burn the cruelty in your heart -  the cruelty you have inflicted upon us!”

The guards readied for attack, but I signal them to lower their swords. This was not the first time something like this happened, so I spare the boy.

“Your people would not hesitate to do the same thing to us,” I remarked. “It’s just that this time, we are the victors. So accept it, and leave.” I nod to the guards to continue walking, all while ignoring the reporter’s writing down my every word. Several guards knock him down unconscious, but they spare him as he was not weak. The show had to go on.

After hours, I had enough. As soon as possible, I excuse myself. It was exhausting, having one meeting after another. I could not stand it any longer - having to manage my posture, think of witty statements, and being the opposite of the girl who used to sleep in class. Sometimes, I just felt like asking “Is my true self so repulsive that you all feel the need to suffocate me within layers of extravagant clothing, give me a glare when I ask a question that is slightly inarticulate and eradicate every fiber of my being which makes me who I am?” Then with a shock, I realize something - unnecessarily dripping with excessively sophisticated-sounding words. I sounded exactly like that paper.

I am so lost in thought that I no longer realize where I am going. With a shock, I realize that I am heading into the enemy’s territory. However, they don’t dare to attack. The few survivors don shocked looks intermingled with fear, hostility, and the strange look that results from one trying to restrain themself. So I keep walking.

Soon, I find myself utterly and completely lost. Within a few minutes, I am sure that a cavalry of soldiers would be riding through the destroyed town, searching for me. So I keep going. Then I see the boy, and curiosity sparks. I follow him, deeper and deeper into the miserable land of ramshackle houses. Unfortunately, I am not the most agile.

He does not attack immediately. He scans the surroundings, as if sensing a threat. Then, in a voice so soft it could be the wind, he says “My people would never do this. Killing innocents.”

He is learnt, but so naive. I ask a question - “Would you kill one person to save thousands?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” His voice is louder now, and he tries to choke back his rage.

“If these people do not die, they would pass their weaknesses down to generations. But through our attacks-”

“So you are killing them for who they are? For thing they cannot control?”

I sighed. “If you found out that a man would accidentally set off a bomb in the near future that would kill the whole world, would you kill him?”

“Just stick the dude in jail or some equally secluded place for all I care. Killing is a bit… extreme.”

“What if he is the bomb? It was somehow placed into him when he was born and is unable to be removed-”

“Enough with these theoretical questions! You are killing innocents, and killing is wrong. That is all that happens-”

“You are blinded by the present when you have to look to the future-”

“The future! There’s no end to this. You’ll kill the weakest, but as long as there are people, there would always be the stronger and the weaker. These killings would never stop.”

“But with the current levels of weakness-”

“Who are you to judge who is weak and who isn’t?”

I heard the guards arrive, but I have to have the last word. “You asked who I am. My friends call me Connie. But to you, I am Virusse, Corona Virusse. You asked who I am to judge. So I’ll show you what it truly means to be weak.”

Enough pretending. As I raised my hood, I finally let the world see me for who I truly am - flawed. I despise the system, I despise the weak, and despise those who kill them. I despise everyone who had ever put me down, everyone who hated me for who I was. Who I am. Most of all, I hated Inevitable Failure.

“That is a creative name, Infal. Could it stand for… I don’t know… Inevitable Failure? But I guess he cannot stop naming his victims after himself. Let me guess - you don’t remember anything. Of course you don’t. But ever notice how bad luck seems to be attracted to you?” I smile. Reading books about villains help if you want to deliver threats.“If you want the attacks to stop, you’d better tell me where to find Mr. In-”

The horses gallop in. A dozen guards pick me up. They worry and ask me questions to determine if I was all right. Perhaps I had to put the mask back on for a little while. Get more allies first. Wait for Infal to remember. Until then, Justice had to wait. I was going to rescue him, and I could do it without University SOTF.

CYS Mentor Program - (Beta) on 1/12/2020 9:55:32 PM
I would like to sign up as a mentee. I think my main problem is finishing the storygames I begin. Often, I’ll get carried away with new ideas but would either lack the motivation or the time to finish them. Also, there are times where I would keeping re-writing and deleting the same thing because I think that what I wrote was not good enough. As for my schedule, I cannot say that I would be online too often, especially when school starts in a week (I’m currently in high school). As far as I know, I would still be able to be somewhat active on this site except when exam week comes around or homework starts piling up. The rate of my progress would be rather irregular, because there are days when I suddenly feel inspired and other days when I just cannot bring myself to stare at the computer for any longer.

Guess Who’s Banned? on 1/2/2020 3:20:15 AM

Since there are a lot of sarcasm in this thread and in the forums in general, I do not know it this is a genuine question or not (I'm not the best at social cues, if you can tell...) But I'm going to answer it regardless. After scrutinising the riddle for a bit (I can't believe I did not guess it right away, the title was a giveaway), I think I've solved it. The answer is BAND 

I'm made of rubber (rubber band), or march with brass;(Musical bands)

I hold back the hair of a fetching lass;(Hairbands)

Bilarro's were iron (this required a bit of web browsing, but the answer is the same); on a bride's hand, I flash.(wedding bands)

And what will you soon be, alas? (banned)

Oh, and if this is sarcasm...perhaps this would save other people a few seconds of their time trying to figure it out?

Black, Female or Gay? on 12/8/2019 8:27:13 AM

Mystic_Warrior: Straight Asian Female  - Straight White Female?