ALATAR, the cerulean

[alicecrysis]

CAN WE PRETEND
that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars i could
really use a wish right now wish right now wish right now

ALATAR THE CERULEAN*

There's really no way to encompass a figure over four thousand years old.

Alatar, known by her kin as Morinehtar, was sent to Middle Earth around year ten sixty of the second age, thus making her many thousands of years old. "Darkness Slayer" her title, Alatar was given the gift of flesh and form by the Valar. It was the combined job of both Alatar and Pallando, a long trusted friend of hers, to weaken Sauron's forces about the time of the crafting of the One Ring, when they were sent down to Middle Earth. Alatar did not take to this job with particular fondness, and Pallando even less so. Of the two, Alatar was most certainly more established as a combatant and tactician. Still, the task was no less daunting.

Needless to say, their mission ended in failure. Little could be done to sabotage the armies of Mordor with the power of the ring, and Melkor, backing them. Only after Middle Earth had grown consumed by strife and war did an end finally come to Sauron - and at a hefty price. To the surprise and relative dismay of all, the One Ring, taken from the fallen Sauron, had been lost. With it, the will of Sauron endured, and so did everything that was once his. The war was not over.

For a very long time, Alatar and her eternal friend Pallando dedicated their immortal lives to the search of this ring, to no avail. Lifeages of men waxed and waned. Eventually, it was deemed a hopeless task; that the one ring had fallen into obscurity, left to rust somewhere not a soul would be able to discover. Good riddance.

Alatar and Pallando parted ways at this point in their life. With their mission being to circumvent the forces of Sauron, they returned to said task the way each knew best - Pallando to the denizens of the desert in hopes of deterring any unfortunate rebellions in Saurons favor. Alatar moved to the front lines of conquests still in motion; Mirkwood and Dol Godur, the besieged kingdom of Dol Amroth, the Misty Mountains, Minas Morgul, Moria, and many other Gondorian settlements lingering under the shadow of the mountain. It was in this time that Alatar established herself as a combatant to be feared, and a beacon of hope among those she took up arms with. She was never the team player than Pallando was though; Alatar much preferred to do her own thing, her own way. Easily described as a loner; rough around the edges and entirely independent. Nonetheless a boon for the forces of the free peoples. Only with a tone of reluctance and boredom.

As Alatar's purpose is to dispatch the forces of Sauron, she's never exactly 'off'. Many judged this to simply be her nature; gruff, volatile, bitter and cold. None could say for true what was or wasn't in her nature; none bothered to truly get to know her. And Alatar much preferred it as such. Humans in particular often got in her way when her mind was set to do something. Dwarves often left her alone, and Elves often possessed the wisdom to aid her when appropriate. Needless to say, she'd grown a bitterness towards Men, both from their lack of composure, and failure in disposal of the One Ring. She is otherwise described as unorthodox in mannerisms, not caring for the social norms of whatever region she happens to be in. She's also the only member of her order who prefers to fight with both sword and staff in hand, rather than simply a staff.

Alatar often finds herself running with the Dunedain and other protectors of Arnor and Eriador. She found their self sufficient, modest means of both combat and society tolerable, and their cause was as dire as any others. What's more was she could attain the solitude she desired, when desired, in this region. No urgent calls at the hands of the Council, no dire request from the kingdoms of Men. Solitude.

Physically speaking, Alatar took up a more intimidating stance than the rest of the White Council. Dark, rippling hair the colour of midnight cascaded down to her shoulders. Her eyes a piercing shade of deep blue, reminiscent of deep waters. Alatar bears a strong jawline and defined cheek bones, giving her the look of nobility passed down among many elven houses. Alatar wears a complete lining of mithral across her torso, arms and legs. Laid over top; complicated silk weaves in deep blues, violets and black, and beast hides allowing for the best protection possible without sacrificing speed or mobility. Finally, atop all this is her cloak - what makes her immediately recognizable to nearly anyone from a distance. Long and sweeping, the cloak of darkest shade of blue defines her as a Blue Mage of the Council - a title she wears with pride. It covers her head to toe and then some, and is more than capable of wrapping around her entire body. A long scabbard hangs from her waist at all times. Contained within which is a long, thin sword, designed for quick lacerations and frightening armour penetration. A small array of balanced throwing knives also lay strapped to her back, always concealed by her cloak. Finally, Alatar possesses a staff used for channeling magical energies, just as any other of her order. Knotted wyrmwood, charred and blackened, possessing a small ice blue gem gnarled within the tip.

Alatar, while difficult to get along with at the best of time, is nonetheless respected by those she visits. Her presence is often associated with military victory, and so, despite her lack of social graces, kings and lords are generally more pleased to see her than they admit. This is more true with the kings of Men than any other race, for she finds them intolerable by nature. Alatar gets along fine with the lordship of Elves; though the people they rule over sometimes get on her nerves as much as any Man. Dwarves are among the most favorable to Alatar in fact; they kindly load you with all the food, wine and provisions needed to carry on, and send you on your way. A race of social independence - something Alatar can respect entirely. Alatar has little of an opinion of Halflings, having never really met one as they play no part in the conquests of Middle Earth.

Alatar has fondness inside her for only one of her order, and that would be Pallando. Having proving trust over and over again through countless points in history, Alatar considers her life permanently intertwined with that of Pallando. Radagast was someone that, although she couldn't understand, she still bore respect for. Radagast spent his life in solitude, minding the wilderness. Again, an ideology Alatar could get behind. Gandalf was sort of Alatars' opposite; playing towards the human emotions such as compassion and love, and seeking an end to things peacefully instead of by the blade. Nonetheless, he'd prove himself trustworthy and incredibly resourceful. Just not someone she'd care to linger with. Last came Saruman, head of he White Council. A man she'd been told to swear allegiance to, and simply never could. He was a black sheep to the order. Though Alatar had surprising respect for her cunning and crafty nature, something about him always bothered Alatar. Perhaps it was just his beady little eyes.

I COULD USE A

dream or a genie or a wish to go back to a place much simpler
than this cause after all the partyin' the smashin' and crashin'

hey there. so my name is Edge. i also play yo' mama! aka first this is my first character. i happen to be feminine and i've blown out nineteen candles. if you want to contact me, no sweat. just pm me or find me on my own site and find me! but check me out in action. I would like my character to be istari and he/she hails from nowhere in particular. My final last words are edited by admin!

thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you

stay down if once you have fallen

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I T S A L L C O M I N G D O W N
the world ends and fades out[/font][/size][/center]

There were so many things in this world that Jennifer had never known. Granted, she never cared to know either. Now that she did, though, things would be very different. Very, very, different. There was new found appreciation for tactics, for cunning, and for mental warfare - all things that would help Jennifer overcome foes. Cower her kin. Accelerate her to a paragon of her kind. That was the aspiration now. Being the first of her kind to graft intellect to brutal combat, thus creating a much more efficient fighter. Mindlessly charging into the fray was, she must admit, a thrill. There wasn't much else out there like random acts of carnage, blood of innocent humans filling the night air. But. Jennifer was over two centuries old now. The time had come to do and mean more.

In the mean time, there were many a thing to be done with Jennifers' time and rush of intellect. First and foremost, something had to be done with the charming pictures of Kara (she learned her name eventually thanks to the blood) she'd acquired a few nights past. She thought she had the perfect idea too. This woman - Kara - posed a threat to Jennifer still; much greater than any individual before her. Enduring humiliation as she did would only drive her to find means to justice against Jennifer. There was no telling what she was capable of this respect, but having an insight into her mind certainly gave her clues. She may rally the covens against the Drakken, enlist the Aranai or... Well, there wasn't much else she could think of that would actually really cause a problem. But it didn't matter. Whatever it was, Jennifer didn't really want it happening. So she had to be made to suffer to the point of resigning all attempts at retribution, or provoked into something pathetically stupid where she could be killed. That was the only way to keep safe.

It was really stupid keeping that bitch alive. Some things, there should not be a first for.

That night she'd spent a lot of time drawing what blood she could from her clothes, (and there was a LOT of it) and containing it for later use. It was too difficult keeping it from her brethren. She'd never really noticed it before, but damn, they could smell blood fucking anywhere. It was too precious to waste on the pathetic newborns. And so, being the crafty Vampire that she had become, she hid it. Underwater, deep underwater, near their prison fortress. Few Vampires cared to swim anyways. Fewer would care enough to look there for her prize. Next, Jennifer had done something completely foreign to her. Despite her new control of mind, she was still very uncomfortable with it.

Shopping.

Well, not shopping persay. All the same, she was entering a human part of the city, a store in fact, with the purpose of not killing them. It wasn't easily done. The entire time the scent of blood kept teasing her. Sapping her focus. She had to keep reminding herself that it was for a much better cause, so she couldn't. She was there to make copies of her pictures, and nothing more. The clerks face was priceless though. He went into the back to process her copies, and returned a few minutes later totally flushed of colour. Looked like he wanted to ask why she had such pictures, but was far too afraid of the answer to dare do it.

Armed with her camera, several copies of Kara in all sorts of sizes, and some vials of her blood Jennifer set off to a new location - Shiver nightclub. She'd never have guessed in a million years that that was where the pretty little whores hid themselves. Made sense now of course. God damn, being dumb really wasn't any fun. Not compared to the fun she was going to have. But she had to be quick. The scent of Drakken wouldn't be one the Valen were accustomed to smelling in their club, if anything could be smelled in the smorgasbord of scents that had to exist in there. Work needed to be finished before the cavalry caught her scent and tried to thwart her.

The second her thick leather boots stepped inside the building, Jennifer found her head swimming. The noise. The vibrations beating through her chest. The scents. The flashing lights. All of it, intoxicating to the sensitive Vampire senses. All the intellect in the world could not have prepared her from the sensory overload, nor could it help her after the fact. Her tattooed hand gripped her chest, above her heart. It felt like it was beating again. Just what the fuck was this place? Jennifer snapped out of it when a couple pushed past her from behind, knocking Jennifer a few steps into the club. Never before had Jennifer thought she'd ever be intimidated by something, let alone a room.

As quickly as she could, Jennifer began prowling through the sea of light, colour and flesh in search of someone she recognized from memories that weren't her own. Someone she could trust to finish her job for her. Luckily, she found who she was looking for rather quickly. A pair of dancers were knocked forcefully to the ground by Jennifer in her haste towards the bar. But Jennifer didn't care. Her restraint was already fading to violence. The usual grip of blood lust was unavoidable in a room full of tightly packed, unsuspecting humans and Vampires. Scarlet eyes found the deep green ones of the hostess behind the counter. Whoever this woman was, Kara had known her to be a Valen. And thus, so did Jennifer. Out of her leather vest slid a handful of pictures of Kara, defiled and defeated, carefully wrapped to protect them from the eyes of those that it did not concern. Jennifer slid them across the counter towards the Vampire, who's eyes had found Jennifers death covered arm. From the other pocket came a vial of Kara's blood, with a small note wrapped around it, written with the womans' blood as though it were ink.

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Dearest Benjamin Kanst;

You're next.
:)

Jennifer Stone

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[/size]Jennifer waited until the woman picked them both up before grasping her wrist firmly with her stronger hand.[/font][/color] "For Kansts' eyes only." Immediately after her wrist was released, she took off towards a door not far from the bar, and disappeared behind it. It was done. Jennifer did what she needed to here. She could already see the mans face if the blood made it to him. Events would replay for him in reverse chronological order, meaning the first thing he'd see would be everything he did to Kara. Perfect. [/size][/font] "Hey bitch,"[/size][/font] someone shouted towards Jennifer, causing her to wheel about to face her very, very unlucky man, "Who the fuck do you think you are?"[/size] He sealed the deal with what must have been an aggressive push for a human, though Jennifer didn't budge. It caused the man to take a step back and examine his hands, as if they'd suddenly stopped working for him. In that instance of time, Jennifer lost her mind. The beat of the music coursing through her veins, and the desire for fresh blood taking hold.

There were no more thoughts. Jennifer reached out and snapped grasped the mans neck. Wasn't even enough time for him to breath a 'help' before his neck was snapped, killing him. A few people gasped and screamed at the sight. Seeing no more use for him, Jennifer rolled her shoulder and flung his body into the crowd of dancers, knocking many of them over. A lot of people gasped and screamed at this point, many scrambling to get out of the club. Her attention turned to a nearby Valen; a short, skinny guy with a knife in each hand, barreling towards Jennifer with fury. She grinned, and leaped on top of him, sinking her face into the mans neck. In his flailing, one of his knives managed to catch Jennifers back. It tore a hole through her leather vest before sinking, shallow, into her skin. He was at this point dead, but all Jennifer could feel was the warm, sticky blood dripping down her throat and off her chin.

More chaos erupted around. For some reason the music never ceased though. A small handful of Valens emerged from the sea of fleeing people; the few brave ones. Each keeping their distance from Jennifer, still hunched over the downed man. She didn't want to leave his freshly torn neck. They entire place was a tease, and she couldn't handle it any longer. But a fight, was a fight. Jennifer rose slowly, blood still dripping from her face and hands. She shot a quick glance at the door. It wasn't too far away, and god help any Valen who think they could match her strength if she needs to get out. But who would want to leave when all the fun was going to happen inside.[/font][/justify][/blockquote][/size][/quote][/size][/font]

this application was made by two birds. of caution. steal and her hoard of zombies will come and eat your brains.

[ADMIN EL]

accepted!!
welcome to NOW AND FOR ALWAYS