<div align=justify><blockquote><font size=2 color=orange>Out of Character</font> Okay, this definately isn't going to be one of my long, long threads, but I'd still like the posts to at least try to match each other's (give or take 100 words or so). Yeah, that's one of my sticky-type rules. Common curtesy, folks. Who: Pirate Jay "PJ" Katty-Comb and joiners. I'd RATHER only one other, but two is fine. No more, please, unless you get absolute special permission. Full, so... Yeah. Plot: Pretty much none. PJ is lost in the Basement Levels. Save him? Rated: G, if you can believe it. This guy's pretty tame compared to my other characters. Feel absolutely free to boost the rating yourself, though. : ) When: Tria 32, 81378 <font size=2 color=orange>Back in Character</font> Huge: it was enormous. Not like the Tsupeon, of course: the fields had a definition of big all their own. But this, this… This was huge in the way of, if there weren’t signs posted every once in a while, he would be completely, utterly lost. PJ had a reasonable sense of direction, as would any self-respecting pendragon with giant fluffy wings sticking out of his back and smuggled science books jammed inside his lime green, teddy-bear knapsack. There was no way, however, he could rely on instinct to get in and out of these tunnels, as well as get some exploration time in between. But hey, the fifteen-year-old expected that his teachers would respect this. He was, after all, making use of the techniques they were trying to teach him. Granted, this wasn’t an original idea, but… He was walking around in circles. PJ stared blankly at the doorway in front of him, to his left. It read “KEEP LOCKED AT ALL TIMES" in professional-looking calligraphy. It was pretty much identical to half the other doors in the place, and the only way to differentiate it was a crude message scratched under the doorknob. He should know, he must have passed it nearly a dozen times. The candy kid groaned loudly, audibly, smashing his palm painfully against his forehead. Screw being caught. Yeah, there were a few candy bars and pixie sticks and a can of soda in his knapsack, but not nearly enough to last him for the rest of his life, and who knew where he was? Who knew when a teacher or staff member would stumble past? Who knew if anyone even came here anymore? Feeling desperately sad, desperately hopeless, Comb sank to the floor and swung his sack onto his lap. A zipper ran across the bear’s stomach, which he opened. Inside, there were two chocolate bars, a bag of nuts, countless pixie sticks, glow sticks, socks, a switchblade, hair clips (strictly for lock-picking he would tell anyone), a bottle of water, his library card, and a can of generic-brand soda. He pulled on a neon pink pixie stick, popped the end open, and, dispersedly it seemed, began to suck pitifully on the end. He was alone, lost, and scared. “This definitely is not cool," Pirate said defiantly. A pause. “Hello…?"
<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td> Hope you don’t mind me joining in^^ Character; Maylina Avalon a.k.a Kealar Sukrick Age, 1700, Female</td></tr></table> Maylina had found her self lingering a little to far from legal boundaries. So often had she hear, ‘Students aren’t allowed in the basement’ ‘Don’t go down there it will only lead you to trouble.’ And so on and so forth, really she had gotten tried of it after her first few months of being at the school. So slowly during her free time she had snuck down into the lower levels to get a go look around. What did they really expect an undercover spy to do? Sit around studying to fake classes? She hoped not. But technically the school didn’t know she was a spy, only a few select ‘dragons knew and she wasn’t about to brake her secrecy. Well there was one pendragon out there she wanted to tell. The school knew her as Kealar Sukrick, and if anyone asked that was who she was. The personality she had given Kealar long ago had started to wear off, which wasn’t a good thing for a spy, but she knew that if she were to find things out about the school she would have to approach it in different ways. And today just happen to be one of the days she lurked in the basement opening door that weren’t sealed with magic and trying to find things that shouldn’t really be found. It was then that a groan filled the air around her. Her ears twitched in a few directions trying to find where the sound had come from. Her body had frozen completely on the spot and the fur on the back of her neck stood up. She rarely ever met any one else in the basement. Usually a few teacher would come down and go through the doors she could never open but other then that she didn’t know what else they did, she didn’t want to stick around to get caught. Sure there were other brave students like herself, but never had she spoken to one. It wasn’t the way it worked being a spy. She took a few steps closer to the corner that she was going to go around before she heard the sound, then she head someone speak. By the sound of it, it was defiantly a student, male and by the sounds of it not to happy. As soon as the word ‘Hello’ had left his mouth she froze. Had he heard her? Had she not be quiet enough? It was then that she had realized that a piece of metal that had been on a bracelet around her back ankle had fallen off. She often used it to pick locks, her skills weren’t that advanced with them but she was learning. As quietly as she could she bent over and picked it up and placed it back on the black band. Now she could either run, or come out and speak to the stranger. Her mind was racing she had to make a choice soon. <span style='color:purple'>“Who’s there?"</span> She held her breath a little nervous, waiting to see if anyone would answer.
<font color='#000F22'><blockquote><font color=white face=georgia size=1><font color=steelblue>out of character</font> Basements are FUN. Poor Pirate, though. Two girls show up, heh. xD Character: http://shadowlack.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=968Schism Sunhawk</a>, 1700, Female. <font color=steelblue>in character</font> Schism had a rather innocent habit of entering Janardan grounds on a routine basis. At one point in time she had even considered joining the Academy as a learning student. Of course she was master of all of her man trades, so studying them wouldn't only be a waste of time, it would be utterly boring. Thus she had created a pair of alternative trades that she could spout at anyone who asked. There was a fake Tribe school that she could say was the one she was transferring from. Of course, being a Sunhawk, they would immediately grant her fake papers so that she could go to the Academy. Very few actually attended the school of the Tribes. After all, most were taught by parents and fellow tribal members on their particular trades. Those that attended their academy were those either without a clan or part of a tribe that had no one with their particular trade. A very rare occasion, indeed, when that happened. The tribeswoman yawned, arching her shoulders upward, feeling her wings move with them in slow motion. For a moment, the young lady's arms crossed, a soft frown on her face. Something about the Basements had always seemed somewhat... sinister. As if there was more than just the average, rather boring set of secrets that every Academy had. There was some sort of evil, perhaps, that had previously inhabited these lower levels. Maybe it even remained, which was the reason that the staff kept students out of these spaces. Because it was truly their healthy which was endangered, not simply the student files. That was the sort of stuff that Sunhawk found particularly boring. Who wanted to know who Joe Pendragon's second aunt twice removed was or that he had once fallen from a tree at the age of seven and a half? That sort of thing never interested her. Unless, of course, it had juicy little happenings such as someone trying to burn down Janardan. Now that was interesting. Maybe she would have cared more about the other stuff if she actually went to this school and could get some dirt on her enemies. Ears flicked forward as she heard a voice, retractable claws silently sliding out of their sheathes, held at the ready position in front of her. One paw reached back to hook through one of the loops in her jeans. Which might seem a habitual, meaningless gesture if it wasn't for the knife hidden mere inches away at the waistline. The tribe member paused, staring forward, narrowing her eyes and focusing intensely on the world around her. Eyes slid closed, finally, and silence reigned for a few precarious seconds. Until it was broken by another word, said by the same voice of before. This one was simple, easily heard because she had been waiting for it. "Hello" certainly didn't sound all that intimidating, which implied that it wasn't a teacher, scowling around the corner because a student was intruding. It also sounded hesitant, to her. So she probably hadn't been heard. It would seem there was more than just the male (at least it sounded male) and her, though. Another voice echoed the hesitation of before, this one an inquiry. This one sounded female, though it was more distorted than the male's, so she couldn't be entirely sure. In that moment she was glad she had decided to wear her quietest shoes. Though there was rubber on the bottom - typical, as they were sneakers - these were the ones "most broken in", as far as silence went. She could move without noise. At least without noise that others noticed. The finger that had been hooked in her pants moved away, settling quietly against her hip as she moved forward, the other hand following suit on the opposite hip. Steps were taken forward, eyes finally catching sight of a rather interesting male. There was a mischievous grin that curled her lips instantly, eyes sparkling with an intense interest that was definitely not hostile in its intent. <font color=gray>"Glad to hear that I'm not the only one down here."</font> She said it clearly enough that the other female should be able to hear, too.
Ugh, I feel like an idiot, but here's the thing: I'm not really... relating to this character. I feel he's a neat idea, but not one that I can process on a regular basis, or perhaps even a basis at all. Tazzy and Trail are different wherein that I know them, Tazzy for two years roughly, Trail nearing four. They're easy to spew out, and I think that PJ... is going to have to sit in the closet for a while, before I can really etch him out. I don't know. I have an easier time roleplaying adult characters. So sorry to keep you waiting, and, eventually inevitably, disappointed. Both your posts were wonderfully promising.
