Kimon is a sturdy six feet tall and a solid 170 pounds of youthful solidity. His face is dreamy not in an attractive sense but that he looks like he is always staring far away as if in to another world. His hands are callused from a life of manual labor and brief swordsmanship. His waist-length hair is snow white with shades of smokey gray that could be mistaken for silver in the light. His eyes are pale blue but still very vibrant in color and a focused gaze can be as piercing as ice. Otherwise his eyes seem to be staring through everything in front of them rather than at them.
WORK IN PROGRESS
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Kimon
The Sleepy Swordsman -- TAKE HIM IF YOU CAN PLAY HIM
0 · 172 views · located in 
Main Street
a character in “The Multiverse”, originally authored by RogueMinstrel, as played by RolePlayGateway
Description
Personality
He does not recall his birth name. His mother chose his second name, Kimon because it literally means "sleepy" and he had a very dreamy personality as a child. Kimon is a childish name but his mother died before she could give him his third name and since her death he has never brought himself to take one on.
WORK IN PROGRESS
Equipment
He carries little equipment beyond his sword and the clothes on his back.
His sword is what is known as an odachi, a sword with a five foot blade normally meant for members of cavalry. The sheath is held to his back by a leather strap tied against his chest. Where he got the sword is a mystery.
He wears what the Onawero call a mushroom-styled cap. It is conical in shape except for a rounded tip; it is made from thickly woven straw and is held to his head by a silk strap tied under his chin.
His cotton leggings are tied around his shins by leather straps and he wears slip-on, fitted hide shoes that are like wearing nothing at all. He wears his great, great grandfather's cloak, perhaps the most expensive item his family owned which is made of fine, gray silk. It's origins are mostly unknown to Kimon.
WORK IN PROGRESS
History
Kimon is from a small island called Onawero where aquaculture was popular in moving the ibiija fish from the sea to the freshwater of their swamp coasts where they could be raised for an easy source of food. The total population of Onawero is just over 3,000 and has no native mammals, leaving the Onawero people to harvest fruit and rice and send their lines in to the sea. The freshwater stream that flows clean from their swamps is an excellent supporter for fields of rice.
Kimon is sometimes seen with a blue-eyed, white tiger that almost seems to come and go at will. It appears to have no gender though it is powerfully built as a male and yet sleek and graceful as a female. Kimon has been known to call the tiger Iaulu or Isoba.
WORK IN PROGRESS
So begins...
Kimon's Story
- Seen 20 Times • Page 1 of 1
There is darkness. All around him there is darkness and Kimon wonders why his eyes feel so heavy. He flounders in the shadows for a moment longer before the darkness begins to flake away and beams of light burst through. The darkness falls away like sand through your fingers and Kimon is positive he can feel the wind against his face. Then the sudden stop and Kimon's eyes pop open and he tries to shout but is stopped by a mouthful of dirt.
He shoves himself upward gasping but immediately starts coughing and spitting up dirt. He feels like he is opening his eyes for the first time as he looks up at the night sky and he takes in the view of the ruins before him. Just beyond the stone stairs ahead of him he can see a feint light that he is sure is not natural, or at least not a trick of the moon.
Kimon rolls his shoulders around, relieved in the feeling of his sword still strapped to his back and walks towards the steps.
He shoves himself upward gasping but immediately starts coughing and spitting up dirt. He feels like he is opening his eyes for the first time as he looks up at the night sky and he takes in the view of the ruins before him. Just beyond the stone stairs ahead of him he can see a feint light that he is sure is not natural, or at least not a trick of the moon.
Kimon rolls his shoulders around, relieved in the feeling of his sword still strapped to his back and walks towards the steps.
At the foot of the stairs he reaches down and sweeps up his mushroom hat. The straw hat is popular on his island; made of thickly woven straw and shaped like a conical hat except for a rounded tip. He ties the silk strap under his chin and briskly skips up the stairs, attempting to look casual and knowing.
He crests the top of the stairs but has been staring at the growing tower the entire time and wistfully smiling. He feels strange, as if he has just woken up from a dream. Is this place real? Or was the last place the fantasy? These questions and other swirl inside his head like fish trapped in a bowl. This abruptness of unfamiliar change and extrasensory calm should be alarming him but he knows that he has always felt like a stranger in his own skin.
The light, it seemed turned out to be some sort of creature that Kimon recognizes for sure though it is most certainly out of place swaggering through the air. It is none-the-less pleasing, though and Kimon's gaze is caught. He breathes in deep through his nostrils and exhales through his mouth in a calm rhythm that he must have practiced many times before.
He knows something is wrong. Well, maybe not wrong but out of place. Yes, something is most definitely out of place. But it seems okay for now. For now, Kimon is content.
The light, it seemed turned out to be some sort of creature that Kimon recognizes for sure though it is most certainly out of place swaggering through the air. It is none-the-less pleasing, though and Kimon's gaze is caught. He breathes in deep through his nostrils and exhales through his mouth in a calm rhythm that he must have practiced many times before.
He knows something is wrong. Well, maybe not wrong but out of place. Yes, something is most definitely out of place. But it seems okay for now. For now, Kimon is content.
He reaches up and presses his hat back. There is no need to keep it low against the light of the moon. Though it could be considered an insult, Kimon remembers his elder sister telling him that he was a more cutting figure under the moon. He had and smiled and laugh. Now he can hardly remember her without bulging eyes and a purple face.
He blinks and shakes his head. His pale blue eyes seem sharper suddenly, more vibrant. He looks around at these ruins and wonders what was once here. The conversation of the couple not so far away are like a dull thud in his ears as he begins wandering along the platform as if he is waiting for a horse to ride from the shadows and pick him up.
He blinks and shakes his head. His pale blue eyes seem sharper suddenly, more vibrant. He looks around at these ruins and wonders what was once here. The conversation of the couple not so far away are like a dull thud in his ears as he begins wandering along the platform as if he is waiting for a horse to ride from the shadows and pick him up.
Kimon stretches his arms over his head and yawns loudly. He reaches in to his gray, silk cloak and pulls out his waist-length hair. It's snow white color could be mistaken for silver in the moonlight. He rolls the cloak off of his shoulders and wears it as a cape as he walks back towards the steps.
Though he has just woken up, or so he is sure he has, he cannot escape this overwhelming feeling of weariness. Or maybe it is boredom? It is of no consequence to him though when another loud yawn escapes his throat. If he has awoken in to a new dream then he sure hopes that it will pick up in pace and soon.
Perhaps when he saw Isoba, it would. He had heard one of the two people conversing mention a city named Wing or something along those lines. Perhaps he could find this place and learn more about his strange predicament. It never occurred to him to ask one of the two where this city might be. They seemed rather absorbed and too many times had he been interrupted when absorbed in his own world that he did not feel it would be proper.
Now, though he will find a tree and rest for the night. Should he awake to this same dream then he will seek out this Wing City and follow his feet from there.
Though he has just woken up, or so he is sure he has, he cannot escape this overwhelming feeling of weariness. Or maybe it is boredom? It is of no consequence to him though when another loud yawn escapes his throat. If he has awoken in to a new dream then he sure hopes that it will pick up in pace and soon.
Perhaps when he saw Isoba, it would. He had heard one of the two people conversing mention a city named Wing or something along those lines. Perhaps he could find this place and learn more about his strange predicament. It never occurred to him to ask one of the two where this city might be. They seemed rather absorbed and too many times had he been interrupted when absorbed in his own world that he did not feel it would be proper.
Now, though he will find a tree and rest for the night. Should he awake to this same dream then he will seek out this Wing City and follow his feet from there.
The setting changes from the-ruins to Main Street
Kimon had strolled through the main gates as casual as a man walking through his own home. Needless to say, though his eyes scan the buildings up and down and the few people that had passed him. Being from such a small community and having grown up among only his own people Kimon was immediately drawn to the main throng of people humming through the Main Street.
The couple from the ruins where Kimon had woken up (or fallen asleep, he cannot decide which yet) had called this place Wing City or something close to that. Kimon had expected the city to be dedicated to some sort of bird or other aerial animal or even magical flying machines at the very most.
He pushes his mushroom-styled hat back and looks across at all the people and cannot help but a sheepish grin. His pale blue eyes seem to stare through the crowd and to fill in their own details. His expression is like that of a child that knows he should be paying attention but is too distracted to do so.
The couple from the ruins where Kimon had woken up (or fallen asleep, he cannot decide which yet) had called this place Wing City or something close to that. Kimon had expected the city to be dedicated to some sort of bird or other aerial animal or even magical flying machines at the very most.
He pushes his mushroom-styled hat back and looks across at all the people and cannot help but a sheepish grin. His pale blue eyes seem to stare through the crowd and to fill in their own details. His expression is like that of a child that knows he should be paying attention but is too distracted to do so.
His far away gaze comes zooming back to him and he is watching this woman walk towards him with no regard to who may be in front of her... but he doesn't move. He looks at her ear muffs and wonders what sort of sound they are producing and cannot help but wonder if she might be mute as her lips move but there is no sound.
His people told stories of an extra-planar race of beings who spoke on a frequency that human ears could not hear. He could not believe that this woman is one of those beings but he doesn't have any time to contemplate it though as she crashes right in to him.
Kimon immediately reaches behind him and grabs the handle of his odachi sword but only so he can turn the blade with the sheath so that he does not land on it when he crashes to the ground on his back.
This could not be the end of the wonders that Wing City would present to Kimon this day, though for as he looked up at the sky from his precarious position he could see a small speck descending rapidly towards the city. Some how, though his own logic tells him it can not be so, Kimon is sure it is a person.
Though he can not see her smiling, Kimon smiles himself.
His people told stories of an extra-planar race of beings who spoke on a frequency that human ears could not hear. He could not believe that this woman is one of those beings but he doesn't have any time to contemplate it though as she crashes right in to him.
Kimon immediately reaches behind him and grabs the handle of his odachi sword but only so he can turn the blade with the sheath so that he does not land on it when he crashes to the ground on his back.
This could not be the end of the wonders that Wing City would present to Kimon this day, though for as he looked up at the sky from his precarious position he could see a small speck descending rapidly towards the city. Some how, though his own logic tells him it can not be so, Kimon is sure it is a person.
Though he can not see her smiling, Kimon smiles himself.
Kimon props himself up on his elbows and looks quizzically up at the cursing woman or so he has to imagine that her creative string of obscenities is cursing. He goes to push himself up from the ground but as he stands he is knocked to his rear when Kate went soaring between them and crashed in to the wedding store.
Kimon scratches his head but only smiles and eventually finds himself back on his feet. The gun shot, however seems to snatch Kimon's attention and he takes a few cautious steps back. If Vega had thought his simple maneuver earlier was him going for his weapon then his right hand wrapped firmly around its handle and his knees just slightly bent would be like a tiger about to pounce.
Still, though Kimon looks more prepared to take a nap than to do battle.
Kimon scratches his head but only smiles and eventually finds himself back on his feet. The gun shot, however seems to snatch Kimon's attention and he takes a few cautious steps back. If Vega had thought his simple maneuver earlier was him going for his weapon then his right hand wrapped firmly around its handle and his knees just slightly bent would be like a tiger about to pounce.
Still, though Kimon looks more prepared to take a nap than to do battle.
Kimon's pale blue eyes pop open at the female copy of himself but rather than be alarmed his hand drops away from the handle behind his shoulder and breaks in to a wide smile. Not only did this woman in the window talk funny but it seemed that the woman with the loud ear muffs was quite the illusionist. Kimon is not sure what to say so he continues to say nothing.
Instead, Kimon reaches over his left shoulder and pulls his long, white hair out from his silk cloak, which is likely the most expensive thing he has aside from maybe his sword, to see how much the female image would mimic him.
His smile grows even wider when Kate keeps talking. He has heard her dialect before from foreign sailors who would visit his island. They were a rowdy crowd usually but Kimon had always found them interesting.
Instead, Kimon reaches over his left shoulder and pulls his long, white hair out from his silk cloak, which is likely the most expensive thing he has aside from maybe his sword, to see how much the female image would mimic him.
His smile grows even wider when Kate keeps talking. He has heard her dialect before from foreign sailors who would visit his island. They were a rowdy crowd usually but Kimon had always found them interesting.
“
*feels a slight tremor of energy*
”
Aneres Coreveon wasn't dressed as obscurely as she would have liked to believe. The shimmering white kimono-style overlayer embroidered with golden moons down the sleeves, the long-hemmed fringe coming to rest just above the hemline of golden bell-bottoms. Beneath was a plain white top. A golden chain poked out from the collar but the rest of it was tucked beneath the shirt.
There was nothing Aneres could do about the bodyguards who followed her, but she had grown used to that to some degree. At least they let her style them at this point. It made everyone's job easier.
Aneres flicked golden braids to look one way up the street, then the other, then back again. A grunt from one of the bodyguards signaled that it was alright to cross. Halfway across the street she felt a slight tremor of energy. The bodyguards picked up their pace and hurried Aneres across. She didn't protest. They came to stop a stone's throw from a mercedes, a man perched atop the back.
"Did you feel that?" Aneres asked the man, half looking down her nose despite the fact that he was literally seated higher up than where she stood. Her tone wasn't pretentious but there was something about it that dripped with royalty.
There was nothing Aneres could do about the bodyguards who followed her, but she had grown used to that to some degree. At least they let her style them at this point. It made everyone's job easier.
Aneres flicked golden braids to look one way up the street, then the other, then back again. A grunt from one of the bodyguards signaled that it was alright to cross. Halfway across the street she felt a slight tremor of energy. The bodyguards picked up their pace and hurried Aneres across. She didn't protest. They came to stop a stone's throw from a mercedes, a man perched atop the back.
"Did you feel that?" Aneres asked the man, half looking down her nose despite the fact that he was literally seated higher up than where she stood. Her tone wasn't pretentious but there was something about it that dripped with royalty.
"Bristol, very nice to meet you," Aneres extended her own hand and delicately gripped his. She frowned upon hearing that he didn't know what it was either.
"I am Aneres, as I prefer to be called," She regally addressed Bristol with a smile, "Princess of Aurealas. A pleasure to meet you. Is that what brings you here? Looking for the source of the disturbance? I will admit I haven't felt it anywhere else but here."
One of her Over's coughed. She rolled her eyes. They were always concerned she would reveal too much. Aneres had yet to do so.
"I am Aneres, as I prefer to be called," She regally addressed Bristol with a smile, "Princess of Aurealas. A pleasure to meet you. Is that what brings you here? Looking for the source of the disturbance? I will admit I haven't felt it anywhere else but here."
One of her Over's coughed. She rolled her eyes. They were always concerned she would reveal too much. Aneres had yet to do so.
“
Ha. That's my problem too. Where you tryna get to?
”
“
Ha. See you, man. I gotta go somewhere.
”
- Seen 20 Times • Page 1 of 1