Pink Poogle Toy Forum

The young boy shook his head vigorously, shaking water from his hair. The wet chocolate locks brought a slight reprieve from the wamrth of the rising sun. Smoothing back his hair the boy sat back on the river bank. He liked this country, filled with trees that were full of life, plants and green rambled about, unhindered by the impositions of men.

A cold nose snuffling at his ear broke the child's reverie. Turning his head, he found himself staring into the blue eyes of his white and grey companion.

"A bit restless, boy?" he asked the husky.

The dog responded only by panting lightly and letting his tongue hang from his mouth.

"Well, I suppose we ought to see what may be done about finding a breakfast," he grunted, pushing himself to his feet. He paused to gather his staff and cloak from their place on the grass where he had set them to dry, "Alright Yelgan. Come along."

||Right-o, river it is!||

It was a lovely time of day to be about; one of Eithne's favorite points in time. Golden rays of sunlight settled on the rippling waters of the river; not glancing off the surface into your eyes as it did in the harsh daytime light, but settling peacfully onto the water.

She made her way carefully down the gently sloping riverbank, arriving soon enough at a wizened old willow tree. For all it's years the tree was not large. It's branches hung to the ground, creating a very effective curtain. The only break in this wall of leaves and twigs was a single, small opening right beside the river, where the branches spread to form a very picturesque window out on to the river.

Carefully she spread the branches and trotted inside, making sure to rearrange them behind her just as they had been. She then made her way down to the river, folding her legs neatly beneath her to sit, looking dreamily out onto the surface of the water. Absently she stretched forth one hand, delicatly plucking a single leaf from a branch in front of her. She fold this over on itself and split it, raising it to her lips and blowing. A high-pitched whistle came forth at first, but then mellowed into an echoing sound, which she deftly twisted into a soft, haunting tune.

Ever see Rescue Rangers? Gotta wuv those chipmunks!

Name: Meria
Race: Fairy
Gender: Female
Age: 16 by human standards
Skills/Current job: Currently a protective charm seller, Meria has fluent ability in wind magic, allowing her to easily shape the runes neccessary for charms in protection against fire, wear, the usual that the average shopkeeper needs to keep their work and house from damage. Her wind magic gives her a sense of weather, and makes her quick on the wings.
Appearance: A mere three and a half inches in height, Meria flutters about on 4 thin wings, each slender and almost constantly fluttering. Silver-grey eyes are found on a smooth, pale face, her hair right-leaning on the front, the rosy red locks making her look like a wind-blown pilot. Her thin form is covered by a sky blue cloth, skin tight by easy to remove via charms. The sleeves have strands of aquamarine color flowing out, like a beaded curtain, and the sleeves end in dark blue frill, barely noticable to the average eye. Her feet are left bare, as she normally stays in flight.
Personality: Normally staying quiet, except when in deals, Meria flutters about among the merchants and blacksmiths, eavesdropping on bits and fragments of conversation. When she meets a customer her timid nature switches to a very haggle-like quality, using her charm as a fairy to win her customers over. To any friends she eventually meets up with, she shares with them her views, as they might do theirs. When alone she acts silly, taking the time to play around, doing flip and twirls like a gymnastic on trees and flowers.
History: Growing up an orphan, Meria eventually refined her gift of wind around the age of 12, taking the time before that to do some odd jobs that only fairies could do. After learning her craft she began to sell her services, eventually getting rich enough in fairy value at the age of 14(Little uncommon things to pay for her services) to visit a powerful fairy in the area of her birth, who taught her a spell to make her the height of a human, only for a day at a time, the time in between normally being around 4-5 days. During those times she walked like the humans did, soon finding a place in the human banks to store her wealth, which began to range to more 'human' needs, like gold, silver and bronze. Her wealth is normally shared to those who need them, now presently taking her time as a human-height to give to the needy, like the beggar girls and merchants that helped her gain the value she has.

((a little confused, Requiem, isn’t your char’s name Myrei?))

Ristalia noticeably jumped at the man’s words, her eyes briefly going wide as her head snapped in his direction. She found herself staring straight into his eyes...er, eye, for only one of his green eyes was staring back her - the other was cloaked by his coal black hair. She was particularly suprised because she was surprised by the fact that she had been surprised in the first place. Elves do not get surprised - one cannot just sneak up on an elf and say ‘boo,’ or whatever one might say - it simply does not work.

Yet surprised Ristalia was, although she regained her composure almost instantly, quickly tearing her eyes away from his, which was much more in keeping with her elvish heritage than her intial reaction. Her heartbeat gradually slowing, she now took a moment to analyze the words the strange young man had spoken. She had never seen in him around her part of the town before, most certainly, and he looked a bit rugged and most certainly mysterious. She didn’t know if she could trust him, and her intuition wasn’t helping her at all, which was unusual. The whole thing was unusual. But business was business, and he had already been more polite (and more eloquent) than her average regular customers, which was saying a lot. Well, more polite, apart from his sneaking up on her.

Finding her voice (which she was certainly not accustomed to losing in the first place), Ristalia, replied, “I own the paper shop, actually, sir.”

She stood up a bit abruptly, for she had been feeling quite uncomfortable sitting so close to this young man (Ristalia wasn’t much of a social elf, mostly because no one really ever bothered to get to know her). It had never ocurred to her that someone might sit next to her when she had first sat down on the bench. She smiled faintly, it was good to have business, at least it was something to do. “I just closed early, no one has come in the shop all day and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to...take a walk...instead of sitting behind the counter for another hour.”

Ristalia realized what a flawed picture of herself this man was receiving, she never took walks, and here she was talking about it as if she took one every other day! But no matter. At this moment a soft, haunting tune floated into Ristalia’s ears. She smiled again, a little more brightly this time. The song reminded her of life in the Kinare Forest.

“I’d be happy to offer the service you request if you would accompany me back up the hill to my shop,” Ristalia said, motioning towards the stairs on which she had just so recently descended. “And, tell me, sir, exactly what sort of embinding did you have in mind?”

||Erf...sowwy...I'm so used to being Eithne. ||

{ Finally have time to post. I may not meet by the riverside, I don't really like the idea, actually... meeting all at the same time and everything is just... weird... too typical =P. Oh, and I've made Shade's hair sound so long. Oops. It's corrected now, it's not long, okay!! It's important for his character! }


Shade had come home from school a while ago and was now sitting on Raynault's bed, looking throughout the small window at the sunset outside. "It's so beautiful," he whispered to his tutor, who was sitting at his desk, quill in his wrinkled hand. "It's like a painting," he added. "Reds, oranges, yellows, purples... all blended together to create harmony..."

His tutor set his quill down quietly, moved from his desk and sat down beside him. Raynault's long beard flowed downwards, and his white hair gleamed in the waning glow of sunlight. "Yes, it certainly is, isn't it?" With a small smile forming on his lips, he silently looked outside the window with his sole student.

Shade turned towards him. "I don't want to go to school. Education with you is enough. And it's not as if I would ever become anything other than a magician of Light Magic, like you have." Shade lay down on his bed and lay his face sideways onto Raynault's pillow, brown eyes gleaming as he looked towards the blue eyes of his mentor.

Raynault smiled, a smile of a wise, old man, still staring outside. "Shade, although I know you love light magic with your heart, there are many other skills that are important in your life."

Shade moved a bit on the pillow, his blue jacket rustling, soft hair brushing against silk. "But I learn nothing important at school. All I learn is about our language and mathematics and all that. They are not important. The things I learn with you are much more fun to learn, not to mention useful in life." He closed his eyes. "The other kids don't really like me," he added. Not hearing Raynault's reply, he continued. "They say I'm too weird because I'm not to social."

Raynault sighed. "Shade. What others think of you is not as important as what you think of yourself." He looked down towards the dreamy, thin teenager. "If you want to know, I think you have an absolutely great personality. You are great to talk to, not to mention an excellent learner. My best and only student."

Shade kept silent.

Raynault got off the bed and stood up. "Now then. I would like you to cast some of the most recent spells I've taught you," he commanded.

Shade smiled and stood up. "All right then." Summoning a ball of light in his hand, he made a quick movement with his hand, sending a bright flash of light against his instructor. His instructor did not budge, merely closed his eyes. Shade proceeded to send a stream of light towards the priest, who fended it off easily with a screen of light. Determined, Shade recited a quick incantation, conjuring a golden binding halo around his master, who once more stopped the spell. Raynault nodded, putting his hands together. "You've been practising well. But there are still things that may need improvement, of course." Shade smiled. Raynault continued, "Light magic is one of the most difficult magics of all to master, needing immense ammounts of hope and faith..." At the mention of the word faith, Shade twitched. Raynault raised one eyebrow at him. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied softly. But there was something wrong. His faith in the divine being was slowly diminishing, gradually being replaced by his own beliefs.

"We shall continue the study of light magic until nighttime. Now, as I have mentioned to you before, the most important component of light magic is the defensive area. I want you to make me a screen of light, like I did when I was fending off your light beam."

Meria briskly walked past a group of drunken men, who stared at her, not the eyes, them being men, and laughed real loud. Mentally frowning, she turned her back to them as she headed around the corner, four wings seemingly painted on the back of her skin-tight clothing. What perverts, she thought, When I was shorter they never noticed, now all they do is stare. What jerks. Finding a dark alleyway, she looked around a few times, and slipped in to the dark...

.. to find a wickedly smiling man press her up against the wall. "Hey precious," he said, so close she smelt the alcohol in his breath. What, was this happy hour at the local pub? Frowning timidly, Meria tried to edge away, but he simple pressed her harder, head starting to snake closer to her. "How about a little smooch, maybe more?" His lips went for her cheek, his hands somewhere else, and Meria gasped. Suddenly the man went down clutching down low where Meria gave him a hard kick in the groin, with the aid of some wind protection charms that would be as effective as modern day pepper sprays. "Don't dare try that again, to anyone, or you'll pay!" she yelled, four wings suddenly flapping out in a gust of wind, piling nearby trash on the the man. Flying up, Meria emitted a glow of light, and the now three inch fairy stuck out her tongue and flew off.

(GO Meria! =P)

((So this is what happens when Theresa is busy ))
Janine ran fiercly through the air, springing from step to step, she smiled- this was not exactly her evening ride with body guards as she had told her parents. She saw the gentle wind of the river and ran toward it, her luminous skirts billowing out. She tossed off her cloak, revealing a lovely gown underneath, and smiled up at the sky. She liked these more innocent escapes. When she realized others were near, she touched her head smartly- making sure her crown was not there. It wasn't. She looked around hesistantly, and silently. She saw them a little way down, there and....there. Whenever she wasn't within her court her abudent hair and charming beauty seemed impratical, strange, and she felt rather self-concious. The darkening light hid most of her detail, but her features were clear.

((Oh...kay...dumb post, oh well- I'm tired ))

EDIT: I changed the name, sorry- too many alternate names sorry about the confusion

[These fairies are getting confusing xD Liv is human-sized with wings, I'm human-sized without wings, and Dranzer's 3 inches high with wings ...]

The sea was calm and still, the setting sun casting a reddish glowing path upon it from the horizon. A fairy sat perched upon a high rock, her soft hair blowing gently in the breeze, gazing up into the pinkened skies. She was singing. Even if one listened very closely, they would not be able to make out the words of her song, but her voice was pure and soft and sweet.

If you were to be listening to her with your head tilted back and your eyes closed, simply enjoying it, you would not even notice that the song had come to an end. But her voice was quietening, dying away, until she whispered the last note, and then her voice faded completely. Caress continued to observe the sky above her for a while, before she tore her eyes away from it, turning to look at a small cottage beside the sandy shore. The windows were closed, signaling that her brother was not home yet.

With a sigh, Caress stood and took a small, rather dainty leap from the rock, and then she seemed to almost float down to the ground, her bare feet gently touching upon the sand.

[Eh, won't go to the river unless someone doesn't come along xP]

((I would like to say that meeting at the river is not a requirement or anything!! You are at this point, entirely and utterly free to do what you please with your character. I would ask that you attempt to interact with at least one other person's character as soon as you are able, but otherwise, it is pretty much up to you. I'm happy to have multiple subplots going on as long as people keep posting and things don't get ridiculously confusing. All the posts are great, you guys are awesome!! -Lilac))

(OOC: I'm actually revealing something in my plot sooner than I thought. )

Jackdaw had a good look at his surroundings when he was led into the store's front. Everything was in what felt like a rightful place. This crafter's skills were all shown and proven just in this room. He took a moment to observe her skill, noting textures and colors of paper and fabrics. The young man hadn't been indoors for thirteen years. An old habit inspired him to lift his hat from his head, revealing a pale, grayish complexion and the entirety of two strange ears of the night elf, the most feared and hated race outside of Corelie.

"I am here for a tightly woven cotton... you might know it as muslin... and I would like it dyed brown. I want the pages of the book to be sized as a journal, and textured to fit for ink pen sketches," he said, not caring for any reaction to his unfavorable race. He pulled a diary from his cloak of an alike binding. It looked like it had seen some use, but was made for it. "My mother made this. So long as you do not view the contents, you may use it as an example," he said with a faint smile, perhaps the most excitement he ever showed, as he extended to book to the elf.

((hey unexpected stuff is half the fun!! ))

Ristalia looked at his unique ears. So he was a night elf? A night elf. Standing in her shop. She had never seen one before, though she had heard tales of them told with much derision by the townspeople. They were feared and hated, but Ristalia had never quite gathered why. The elves and her family simply never spoke of them, as if they were an excommunicated or nonexistent elven race. And the other townspeople who had dared to talk about the night elves had always been full of hate and awful words. Seeing as night elves were few and far between in Coralie, Ristalia had never bothered thinking about it. At all.

So at the sight of the young man’s ears, she registered the fact that he was a night elf in her mind and blinked, once more than she would have naturally, and then proceeded to think nothing of it. What could she do anyway? He was already in her shop, and besides, he had been wonderfully polite and kind so far. Absentmindedly, she realized that she should probably get out more and become more educated so she didn’t calmly let a wanted axe-murderer into her shop one evening. But these thoughts drifted away with the wave of excitement that came with the prospect of a new project.

Carefully, Ristalia listened to his description of what he wanted. As she listened she took a nice rectangular sheet of natural colored muslin from the shelf and selected three root dyes from the ceiling-to-floor cupboard of dyes in medium-size glass bottles that covered most of the wall behind her front counter. She set these components of the young man’s desired item on her counter and led him over to one of the tables in the middle of the shop, motioning to a rack of off-white paper.

“There are a few varieties of thicknesses, color, and material there that have the proper texture for ink pen sketches, sir. Take a look, take however long you need, an then just let me know which type you’d like in your journal,” she said. She listened to him speak of the journal his mother had made with great interest and took the book from his hand with great reverence. It was well-made, excellently made, really.

Ristalia held it in both hands and nodded at his instructions not to look inside. “If you don’t mind me looking at the front page, sir, I could also try to formulate a new paper type that matches the paper your mother used more closely than any of mine, if you find that none of my ink pen sketch papers are to your satisfaction.” She could tell the book was important to him, from a faint little smile he had given as he’d handed it to her. Or at least, that’s what she thought the smile had meant. She left him to examine the rack of papers and set his journal on the counter next to her supplies. It was not going to be easy, matching the brown color of the example journal.

It was a very unique shade. A very unique shade. But Ristalia loved it, she loved a challenge. She pulled out a drawer from behind the counter and took out an earthen bowl, setting on the countertop next to her other supplies.

((Apologies, Twiz was silly and put her character at a disadvantage to meet other people. I could probably think of something to get him out of the stables, but I'm lazy. I'll do it tomorrow, perhaps, but I've got one more peice of homework to finish before I go to bed. Eck. And apologies if this post is cruddy quality - I haven't role played in awhile.))

Terran grinned softly as he tossed the last bit of hay into the stall, making it habitable for the next weary horse who came into the stables. His work was finished - for the moment. In the morning, he would have more to do... or tonight, even, depending on whether a traveller arrived that had a horse or not.

His gaze fell towards the window, pausing on a medium-sized stick he had placed there many hours before. He picked it up slowly, testing its weight, before swishing it to and fro. He darted around the room, fighting imaginary battles with antics that - had the battle been real - would have gotten him killed, if not severely wounded.

One of the horses whinnied, backing up nervously, cautiously eyeing the darting stick. Terran laughed, setting his make shift sword back upon the window's ledge.

"I'm sorry, Sentou," he said, watching the horse. The horse - who was Sentou, evidently - snorted at Terran in disgust, turning around half way. In a few minutes, however, she turned to face the boy once more. She stuck her nose out to nudge Terran, and once more his light laugh was heard within the stables.

(Aw, now that I'm in the RP, I have to read everything Thank you to our very nice Lilac, for letting me start. Appeal to the topic starter! Chipmunks taste good when grilled. Goes nice with pickles.)

Name: Fawilyn Somer
Race: Human, some fairy ancestry
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Skills/Current job: Fawilyn has very strange magical abilities. There are certain things she could do, and almost do, or not do at all, even if was a simple spell. Or certain things were just unpredictable, like on occasion, she would turn half-invisible without knowing it. She was told that though she has a much wider range of magic than most people, that her abilities to do them widely varied and was somewhat unpredictable. She is studying under a professor to help find an area to focus on. She is currently working as a merchant, selling herbs and other things she grew. It was one (though small) area of magic she was good in at least, anything to do with growing plants, even her vegetables were better- for whenever she brought hers to the market, they were undeniably one of the best crop of all the farmers.

Appearance: Fawilyn has long, wavy, umber hair, right down to her elbows. Her face is quite tan from her outings to the market square. Her eyes are hazel and most often found curious, and also a bit of an optimistic feeling in her look. She stands rather tall with lanky, though still agile legs. Her attire is often a beige shirt and shift, with a belt or sash tied around her waist, and old laced boots. She does not wear her robe at all as she considers herself more of a merchant than a mage, and never found herself in a position where she ever needed better arm room for casting spells.

Personality: Fawilyn is a very mysterious person. Although she’s not at all shy or quiet, she never speaks more than needed- unless she was in an argument. She was indeed very stubborn and dedicated to her beliefs, like most recently, fighting for the fact that Waeleythia does not exist. Sometimes, she would still not agree- even if she knew she was wrong. Otherwise though, she was a very provocative person, which always drew a few more customers to her stall. If you manage to become a friend, her verbal battles will be something of norm, and usually is something very playful and lighthearted. She is still a very caring and goodhearted person- she just happens to be very stubborn.
History: Fawilyn and her brother has had to fend for themselves for most of their lives, as their parents died when their house was torched. Only they were lucky enough to come out alive. However, they were lucky enough to live a decent life still. The year before, her brother died of sickness, so now she was by herself. She managed to muster up some friends that were more than acquaintances. Now she was living what she assumed would be another run of the mill life, living her days in a cottage, one day get married, and die a merchant still.


~~~


Seeds... empty? Ugh, not again. Fawilyn opened and shut drawers in a desperate attempt to find carrot seeds to replace the crop she had just harvested. As common as a carrot was, it was one of her quick sellers, not to mention it mingled quite nicely in her dinners. She let out a moan. She had already been in the market earlier, and if she left now, she would be right in the middle of the noon heat for over a mile.

But she knew she couldn't laze. And besides, what else was she going to do?

"Well, 'pose I could get some basil and strawberry... think it's in season," Fawilyn muttered as she absentmindedly flipping through her planting calendar. "Close 'nough." And so she left.

It was just steaming for awhile, but of course, it wasn't actually that hot. Unless you were bringing back money to your home, you wouldn't want to walk the same path you walk every day any more than you have to. Thankfully, she knew that the river was coming up and she could rest. After all, even if a mile was such a short distance, she remembered her earlier thought- what else was she going to do? Her lessons wouldn't resume until the professor came back from tutoring a certain young prodigy, and until then she was told to read though roughly two feet of books. But you get through one book and you get bored. Again. She sighed. The first few months after she lost her brother was turbulent, making sure everything had a solid foundation, double checking, nitpicking. Then the boredom sinks in, as hard as it was for her to admit. She kept telling herself she was lucky to live such a good life and that it was too much to ask for a little excitement.

Fawilyn had just reached the riverbank and looked around. Just like it always was. It was at least, better than her cottage. This was interesting boredom. A few people were around, as usual, one or two she had seen about town before. She glanced at the bench that she found beside her. It was tempting. She sat and as soon as she did, she found herself drinking in the scene and at that exact moment, knew that it would be a while before she got those dratted seeds. She glanced around and saw a few shops in view. Tailors... maybe I'll finally get a new blouse. Wood... my fence doesn't need to be repaired... does it? What's that shop... some paper thing... I suppose I might need some... oh, people inside already... she thought to herself, wondering what else she should buy. As strange and contradictory as it was to her earlier thoughts, she found herself liking whatever boredom was sinking in right now.

"And don't come back until you can actually do it without turning something green!"
Lerany tumbled out of the small cottage. Arkel had gotten mad at her again, she can never do anything right, not even a simple water spell. Everytime she couldn't do it right he would scream and throw something, until finally he threw her out, not allowing her to come back until she got it right.I'm never going to get this right...

Her robes dragging along the floor, she made her way down to town. Her village was about a 15 minute walk away from it, but atleast in town she can look around, and see what she is doing all this for. Freedom.

Walking down the dirt track, she saw female magicians giggling with each other as they watch their children play happily in the flowers, fairys flying around happily, and other people having fun. Oh how she wished she could do it. I will, one day, one day... When I come of age and blow Arkel away with what I can do

"I'll never be as powerful as Arkel!" She cried outloud, slumping onto the riverbed she had reached. Reaching out, she scooped up some water and let it flow through her fingers back into the river. Her staff was laying next to her, where she had placed it. The moon was only a crescent, there was no way she would be able to cast the spell perfectly so she can return home. How was she going to eat tonight? Her hugged her knees tightly. "Maybe I can take some scraps from a restruant again." She whispered to herself.