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- Rank: Knight in Shining Armor
- Total Posts: 375
@savannah_grace2009 @rae it was worth a shot…
It appears my pfp is deceiving more people…
Hello, calyhuge, I don’t believe we’ve met…
I’m a fourteen-year-old girl who right now is being tormented by her black and silver cat, *ahem* Mutiny, that’s you, *Mutiny continues to pur and look so cute* I’m insane about horses, been that way since birth. I’m a middle child who is the only one of my family who writes. And I rant about my charries until people get bored…
Fun fact: I’m little over a quarter German.
"You need French Toast."
@freedomwriter76
CHASEEEEEEEE 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍
I didn’t realize you liked him that much.
I also have charries that could meet up with Chase if u wanted haha
Sure, let me just figure everything out here…
Sure, Chase could meet your charries
@everyone I just tagged or are interested in your characters meeting Chase
I’ll write an RP for him, and I guess just go from there.
Give me a couple mins…
"You need French Toast."
- Rank: Knight in Shining Armor
- Total Posts: 375
@rae I suppose if you told me stuff about you I should at least say something about myself
I also do not believe we have met
I’m a Christian teen guy who would describe myself as a complete nerd. I love the classics (Dante, Chaucer, Shakespeare, etc.) and writing. I am mostly writing fantasy right now, but I am toying with the idea of a wild west character, and I’m right now working on an RP that introduces a magical mall which I will someday write something about.
And yes, profile pictures mess with my mind (especially when they are changed). I’m really bad with normal names, but yours should be fine (you don’t meet many guys named Duke). Thus, my names are either very unusual, or connected with something I know well so that I can remember them.
Good luck not getting your character squashed in all the chaos involved here. If he can see through magic spells, he can come to the magic mall… You’ll see.
Chase Duke
Chase pulled his black hoodie down to shadow his eyes. He didn’t know what had happened, he just somehow got…here. Where was here? The halls looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Looking around cautiously, Chase walked forward, planning to just go in a straight line until something happened. Or until he could find out where he was…
"You need French Toast."
Chase is magical. He has distant shapeshifter/magical being blood, causing him to look normal (ommitting his eyes) but he does have magic abilities.
"You need French Toast."
- Rank: Knight in Shining Armor
- Total Posts: 375
@rae just so you know, you may want to read the last 10 pages or so. Several of my charries (and some other people’s) are hunting a pixie of mine, who shape-shifts, and with the whole who-dunnit,who-can-we-trust attitude going on, Chase Duke might wanna watch out. And if he sees a little blue sprite with a pointy chin, he’d better run.
- Rank: Knight in Shining Armor
- Total Posts: 375
I’m going to try an RP that I had tried before, but it got deleted. I’m sort of glad it did, because now it’s so much better. Enter, The Cat.
The Cat
What a lovely day for a walk. Only to be spoiled by the humans, again. The Cat sauntered down the sidewalk, swishing her tail haughtily. Where was a place wherein these foul runts of creation did not invade?
So naturally, she went into a mall.
Malls are never busy anymore, but this one was an exception. That is, it was an exception in that there was absolutely no one there, except for the occasional store clerk.
The mall itself contradicted its emptiness with extravagance. Imposing doric columns supported a barrel vaulted room, while flowing white marble staircases graced the double balcony. Gilded garnishes on the roof made the wide hall seem to glow with glory. And the shops! One, a ship-themed tavern, swayed as if it was the galley of a courser off the coast of North Africa (which it probably was). Another, an art gallery, displayed works of artists yet to be born, and paintings long ago burned sat safely on the walls. A jewelry store, which looked like the inside of a cave, was clerked by a short, squat man, while others, shorter and squatter, hacked at the walls with pickaxes, sometimes extracting shining stones.
The Cat ignored it all. None of it interested her (except for a short, wide, mouse-brown suit with pink coattails and a ridiculously high collar), she simply wished to be away from that scum of the school. None of them were her scum, anyway.
She stopped. One of the scum was standing in her way. A human, by the looks of it, with slicked-back black hair, a pointy beard and even pointier mustache. He eagerly approached The Cat, waving his arms with excitement.
“Aha! Our second cuztomer! Velcome, velcome!”
The Cat licked her paw, watching the interesting man out of the corner of her slit of an eye.
“Exquoozey Moi, Madame Shat,” he continued, or at least, that’s what it sounded like. “I am Jean-Marc, ze owner of zis fine establishmont, and I wish you, as ve say in my country, ‘Bienvienu!’”
The Cat looked at him.
Jean-Marc continued. “Aha, but do not think I do not know zat you understand me! Verhy few can efer see zis place, and only zose who who zee it can enter it! I congradulate you on your zeeing through of our majic. Now, vat can I do for you?”
“What meanest you, “second” customer? Who else can see through the spell?”
“Aha, but I think he vould not appreciate your combanie.”
“Tell me, or you will regret it.” The Cat unsheathed a single claw.
Monsieur Jean-Marc, the great, the mysterious, the magical, the verhy, verhy French, was not afraid of a talking cat with a sharp claw. But, perhaps the silver, diamond-studded dress that the cat’s claw was poised over was. Jean-Marc cleared his throat. “I vill not tell you vere he ees, but I vill not prevant you from vinding him. I zimply do not vant conflict in zis fine establishmont, if you pleaze, Madame Shat.”
The Cat’s claw wiggled menacingly.
“He ees down zee hall, to ze left.”
The Cat replaced the dress, and, with a sophisticated nod to the owner of “zis fine extablishmont”, sashayed down the hall. Monsieur Jean-Marc, much relieved, strode energetically to the door, waving his arms again, to welcome the two newest customers. The Cat didn’t care that Yerdua and Bagico were there too. If this first customer was who she thought he was, then she just might not need to buy a lunch, so to speak.
She looked in all the stores to the left, sniffing in disdain at the sun-lit, bird-sung garden-florist’s shop, waving away the sent of pickled herring from the Inuit igloo, and not even deigning to look at the gold doubloons offered by an Arab by an oasis. But she halted at the sound of a ratty voice.
“I’ll give fifty for it, and that’s my final offer.”
She peered around the corner, crouching, tail swishing. The store was unassuming, an ordinary, candle-lit, warm jewelry store. But here, those things which appear most ordinary, are the least so.
A somewhat condescending voice answered the first, “I’ll not part for it for less than a hundred. You’ll not find a piece like this anywhere else in the world. It is worth every doul and more.”
“Sixty. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll allow ninety, and only ninety.”
“Seventy.”
There was a pause. “You really want that engagement ring, don’t you?”
The voice of The Rat, for that was whose it was, snarled back. “It’s not an engagement ring, it’s just a ring!”
“Alright, alright, eighty douls, and that’s it. I will give no ground.”
“Seventy-five.”
Another pause. Then the clerk sighed in exasperation. “Fine, take it.” There was a clink of coins as the exchange was made, and the rat turned to leave.
“Going somewhere, Lunch?” The Cat readied her pounce. She wanted to savor his fear before eating him.
The Rat was unconcerned. “Ah, I see your ability to see through everything has led you to the jackpot.” He gestured to himself. “But, you will not find me easy prey,” he continued, inspecting his claws unhurriedly. Then without warning, he bolted off to the side.
The Cat, caught by surprise, hissed and pounced, but for all her quickness, was too slow for the deft and devious Rat. He scampered behind an aisle and doubled back, his ring around his neck, trying to escape.
The Cat was not entirely stupid. She lay in wait at the end of the aisle, facing the approaching Rat. The Rat slowed as if daunted, and The Cat pounced. But just as she did so, The Rat dove underneath her, popping up on the other side and fleeing. The Cat looked over her shoulder while still in the air to watch him go, and turned back just in time to see a post sticking out of the floor. “Clang!” it went. The Cat muttered something incomprehensible, shook her head, picked herself up, and raced away.
The chase was on.
* * *
So, I just threw a lot in there, so I’ll take it one thing at a time. The mall, (name pending, ideas welcome) appears to be an empty lot in the city, so ordinary that even if you look for it you miss it. But, if you can see through magic through ability, chance, or special scenario, you see a sweeping marble staircase leading up to the glass doors of an impressive building. It’s in the Greek style, Gothic style, Renaissance style, and Modern style all at once in a harmonious expression of grandeur. Inside, the real magic begins. The individual shops are in (not from, but actually in) different times, realities, dimensions, and worlds, a conglomeration of cultures that most people had no idea could exist. It’s very likely (and permissible) for your character to find a shop he recognizes, or a person clerking it who he knows.
The Rat is the counter-character to The Cat. They were both cursed into their animals, and then both given a spell that makes them impervious to magic of all kinds. (“But there is always a way to break a curse, if only you know the magic and where to find it.”)
Money works a bit differently there too. Those with the best intentions, who are willing to sacrifice the most to get that thing, in the end pay nothing. Those with the least devotion to what they are buying, or want it for clouded reasons, have a harder time of it, as The Rat helpfully demonstrated. Also, @whalekeeper @loopylin , the pixie-hunters will pass through at some point, to the dismay of Monsieur Jean-Marc. If there are any questions, do not hesitate to ask, especially the newcomers.
You can totally join too ❤️ If you look back a couple pages, I wrote a basic summary of the RP for Rae. Go ahead and post a bio for your charrie when you’re ready!
“Everything is a mountain”
I guess I’ll go ahead and RP for Fynn/Lukas. They can go ahead and meet Chase.
Fynn
“Come on, Lukas, hurry up!” Fynn yelled behind him as he ran down an empty hall.
“Fynn, slow down. We don’t have to run so fast, do we?”
“We do if we don’t want to make Callista wait any longer.”
“Callista, Callista, Callista. It’s all about Callista, isn’t it?”
“Nah, not all the time. But if I’m late again she may not go to the dance with me.”
Lukas grabbed Fynn’s shoulder, whipping him around and slowing him down. “Listen Fynn. I can see it and so can everyone else: Callie is head over heels for you. And you’ve already been late so many times, I’m sure she shows up late just so she doesn’t have to wait so long. So can we slow down?”
Fynn sighed and crossed his arms. “Fine.”
Lukas bent down and took a few deep breaths, still panting hard.
“Ok, we slowed down. Now let’s go!” Fynn jetted off again, with Lukas groaning and lagging behind. Fynn looked back to see how far away Lukas was, but before he turned his head back around, his shoulder ran into somebody else’s shoulder.
Fynn slowed down and spun around, his high-tops squeaking on the shiny floors. “Sorry, man. You good?”
By the way, this is what Fynn and Lukas look like…
Fynn: (just a couple years older in this RP)
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
Lukas: (also a bit older)
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
just so you know, you may want to read the last 10 pages or so. Several of my charries (and some other people’s) are hunting a pixie of mine, who shape-shifts, and with the whole who-dunnit,who-can-we-trust attitude going on, Chase Duke might wanna watch out. And if he sees a little blue sprite with a pointy chin, he’d better run.
Actually, for the past probably like three days I’ve been secretly reading this topic. Ever since Loopy replied to my question about what was going on, whenever that was.
Chase doesn’t know what a sprite is…and if he did, he’d just get annoyed and punch him or ignore him all together.
"You need French Toast."
@esther-c just a sec…writing rp
"You need French Toast."
Chase Duke
Someone came running and rammed Chase in the shoulder. Chase spun around, caught off guard and almost kicked the boy.
The boy slowed down and spun around with a loud squeak.
“Sorry, man. You good?”
Chase pulled his hood a little lower, looking down at the floor.
“Yeah, fine. Where-where are you going in such a rush?” His voice lacked any joyful tune at all.
"You need French Toast."
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