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 Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 10:27 pm
This log belongs to Pacha and Annora Lyrisa. Do not post unless previously okayed by owner. Those who do without permission will be blacklisted from the shop.
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 12:33 pm
01. D-Corp's Post
02. Table of Contents
03. About this Journal
04. Pacha's Profile
05. Annora's Profile
06. Dragon Information
07. Pacha's Picture Gallery
08. Pacha's Possessions
09. Other D-Corp Kids
10. Roleplaying Log
11. Requirements Checklist
12. Future Plans
13. Alpaca Information
14. Shop and Character Credits
15. Flatsale Entry
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 12:36 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 12:40 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 12:42 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 1:15 pm
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Posted: Sat Apr 23, 2011 7:02 am
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Posted: Sat Apr 23, 2011 7:03 am
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Posted: Sat Apr 23, 2011 7:04 am
Troy - A very pretty boy, if strange. Pacha's fascinated by his colorful skin.
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Posted: Sat Apr 23, 2011 7:05 am
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Posted: Sat Apr 23, 2011 7:07 am
Completed Requirements - Current Stage
Numbers
Requirements Checklist
Toddler-->Child:
ABCs
Numbers
0 out of 2 PD
Journal entry
Child-->Preteen:
Special Skill Learned
Egg Facts
0 out of 4 PD
Vaccinations
Journal entry-Parent
Journal entry-Child
Choice
Preteen-->Teen:
2nd Special Skill
0 out of 3 melee tests passed
0 out of 3 magic tests passed
0 out of 1 dragon informational class
0 out of 5 PDs
Parent entry
Child entry
Choice 1
Choice 2
Teen-->Young Adult:
0 out of 3 Magic tests passed or Melee tests passed
0 out of 3 history tests passed
0 out of 3 Biology tests passed
0 out of 3 dragon training tests passed
0 out of 6 PDs
2 parent journal entries
2 child jouenal entries
Choice 1
Choice 2
Choice 3
Young Adult-->Adult:
3 months length
0 out of 3 battle events. (Using Magic or melee)
0 out of 3 flight events
0 out of 3 combo events. (Flight and battle)
0 out of 4 PDs
0 out of 3 child or parent journal entries
Choice 1
Choice 2
Choice 3
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Posted: Sat Apr 23, 2011 7:08 am
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Posted: Sat Apr 23, 2011 7:09 am
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Posted: Sat Apr 23, 2011 7:14 am
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Posted: Sat Apr 23, 2011 7:15 am
As her neck began to lodge actual complaints, Pacha carefully drew another line on the graph paper that was holding her attention. Her pencil, a mechanical thing with a fat barrel and a case of lead near her left hand, deftly shaded the outer edge of lines she had just made, keeping it light enough to be easily erased if she needed to, and she glanced at the large, hardbound book laying open nearby, murmuring something to herself. She paused once that line was done, put her pencil aside, and stretched enough to hear her neck popping. One hand reached out to the book, and her short, blunt-nailed fingers tapped the page a moment before closing it. The cover had been glossy at one point, she suspect, but was long since scarred with nicks and warped from what looked like coffee mugs. It didn't matter, though, because the pages were still fine, and she'd gotten it far more cheaply than she'd ever expected to. She remembered finding the trove of books in a garage sale just a few blocks away from her house and paying her whole allowance for them, then lugging them home and discovering very quickly that so many hardbound books got heavy fast.
The books she'd discovered were old Dungeons and Dragons reference, but not too old. They were third edition, they said, and a little bit of research had told her that Wizards of the Coast was up to fourth edition, but she knew from a bit deeper online reading that between those two there had been a 3.5 somewhere in the mix. Still, third edition was enough for her to do what interested her, especially when the books themselves seemed to cost around ten times what she'd paid. That was a bargain easy for anyone to understand.
She pushed her chair back, standing up long enough to stretch her back out, and one hand splayed over the carefully-drawn dungeon map she'd just finished. It was a surprisingly complex drawing, with numbers for rooms and letters for corridors, symbols on both that denoted traps or hidden objects and passages. On the whole, she was very proud of it. Under that map, the papers canted a little to one side in a way that revealed a small portion, was a carefully-drawn world map, each mountain and tree and boundary marked out in light pencil markings. Nearby were a small stack of spiral notebooks, all open to various pages full or partially filled with pencil scribblings. As she sat back down in the chair, she reached out for a green notebook, turning to a clean page and before looking back at her map. As her pencil poised over the paper, her concentration was broken by a voice just behind her.
"What is all that crap?" Though the voice was quiet, there was no mistaking the sneer attached, and she stiffened, turning to peer through her overhanging bangs at the boy who'd stopped behind her. One hand reached behind her, touching the various papers and notebooks and trying to shuffle them into obscurity as she glared at Gary, willing him to leave. But leaving seemed to be the last thing on his mind. Instead, he stepped past her, looking down directly at all her hard work. He even picked up the map she'd just drawn, holding it between his thumb and index finger as though it were covered in something disgusting. "Figures you'd like this sort of crazy stuff," he decided, glancing back at her. "You know what they say, right?"
She wanted to ignore him. She really did. She looked away, her mouth set in a downward curve that allowed her lower lip to pooch out slightly. It was a pouting expression, not very becoming, but she wasn't paying attention to that, because Gary kept talking. Gary always kept talking when she wanted him to just shut up and go away. He was good at ignoring those vibes. "They say," he was saying, with an air of vicious glee, as though saying it were somehow going to make it instantly come true, "that playing around with this stuff will make you go crazy. You just lose track of everything real and poof, they have to put you in a Home." She could even hear the capital in 'home'.
"It does not!" she bit out, her head jerking back. For a fraction of a second, as her head moved, her hair was away from her eyes and swimming in the depths of that dark brown was a child's uncomplicated hate for a bully. "It doesn't do anything like that. I can read all I want and still know what's real!" Her blunt nails dug into her palms as she fisted her hands, wanting so badly to make him eat his words.
Gary tilted his head to one side, his face taking on that superior look he always got when he managed to rile her or one of her friends, as though making them defend themselves made him somehow better than them. If anyone had lost touch with reality, it was Gary, she decided, her mind working quickly on those words, filing them away to be fully digested and considered later, when she had time to ruminate over what they really meant. Maybe it was true, but at the moment, all she could do was gather her stuff together and shove it in her backpack. The bell would be ringing soon anyway, so even if Gary was going to go away, she could. She'd try not to think of it as running away, but that was probably a lost cause. As she all but flung her backpack onto her back by one strap, Gary smirked at her. "Lost touch with reality yet, Paaacha?" he asked, pitching that question low enough to just carry to her ears. They twitched, betraying her anger, but when she answered him, her voice was as calm as she could make it, shaking but not full of venom.
"No. Go away." Though she'd just told him to go away, in so many words, she turned on her heel and stalked over to the librarian's desk, bristling. Anything to get away from that brat, and she didn't think he'd follow her to Mrs. Staudt's desk. She dropped her pack beside the front, looking up at the serviceable clock on the wall. Five minutes to go before the bell. Five minutes of not being able to work on her new dungeon. It was just so... so... FRUSTRATING!
"Hello, dear," Mrs. Staudt said, as she wheeled a small book cart back behind the desk. It was empty, which meant that the grey-haired woman had just finished putting away some books. Pacha looked up into Mrs. Staudt's lined face, considering the faded blue of her eyes behind those black-rimmed 'old woman' glasses, and sighed.
"Hi," she said, one hand coming up to run through the ruff of hair over her eyes. It parted for a brief moment, allowing Mrs. Staudt to see the frustration in her eyes, and then fell back into place, making her look once more like a shaggy sheepdog. "I got done early, so I thought I'd come stand here for a few." It was probably a transparent lie, but Pacha didn't really care. Mrs. Staudt didn't like trouble in her library, and usually responded by kicking bully and bullied out together, to let them sort things out in the hall or at the principal's office. She had no desire to do either.
"I saw you take all those books out of your pack," Mrs. Staudt said, instead of asking her what the problem was. Pacha was glad of it, but that quickly dried up. "You shouldn't carry so many. Your back will give out. What do you need all those books for, anyway?"
Pacha hesitated, considering her options. She could explain to Mrs. Staudt, and run the risk of the woman deciding to echo Gary's words, or she could hedge or lie. But in the end, the truth won out. Mrs. Staudt was a hard woman, but she was also nice in her way. Pacha couldn't imagine that she'd say the same thing a bully just had. "It's for something I work on when I have free time. I'm creating a world to play in, and dungeons and stuff." She offered the librarian a weak smile, waiting to see what the woman would say. She didn't have to wait long.
"Oh, you're doing that for your friends?" Mrs. Staudt asked, and Pacha flinched just a little bit. She didn't usually have many friends about, and none of them had been particularly interested in the hobby she'd picked up. Though she'd already come to terms with never having her world or dungeons tested out, it still hurt a little to think about.
"Nope. No one else does this. So I'm just having fun making the world for myself," she said, shrugging her shoulders in what she hoped was a worldly sort of casual expression. She leaned against the desk, then blinked as Mrs. Staudt clucked in disapproval. Actually clucked, like some chicken or other rather than a human woman. Pacha reached up, lifting her hair away from her eyes long enough to peer carefully at Mrs. Staudt's face. When she dropped her hair again, a few pieces remained sticking up.
"Why bother to do something like that when you don't have anyone to enjoy your work?" Mrs. Staudt asked, and not unreasonably. Pacha's own mom had also posed the question, though she'd accepted Pacha's 'I just wanna' with good grace, something that Pacha suspected Mrs. Staudt wouldn't do. Those faded eyes peered over her glasses rim at Pacha, and Pacha felt her face darken into something angry again. "You kids ought to get out more. Go play soccer or something, dear, and save those eyes for books that are interesting."
Pacha leaned down, hauling her backpack up off the floor and letting it settle against her shoulder. "Yeah," she muttered, without much conviction. She suddenly felt completely alone, and she didn't like the feeling at all. It lay in her stomach like some sour-coated ball, heavy and needling. "Maybe I will," she said, though she didn't mean it. Soccer wasn't interesting. Her books were interesting. Building her world was interesting. Mrs. Staudt just didn't get it. As the bell rang, providing her with a timely excuse to get out of there, she ducked into the hall, threading into the sea of students and navigating without really paying any attention. She was beginning to figure out that a lot of people just wouldn't understand. Not about what fun this was, anyway, and that was a shame.
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