No RPG links, no drama, no post pestering.
Post by S p e c t r a on May 9, 2008 19:21:14 GMT -5
It's sad that Copabella went inactive, but the silver lining to this cloud is that you, my dear members, get a chance to play this very important canon character she had. So it is with a heavy heart that I say: SEND IN YOUR AUDITIONS!
Keep in mind that Adamanthea is an important character, so you must be able to write decent posts of a good length (700+ words regularly) in order to provide the detail necessary for this character. You can read up on Schatten and Sarrie's portrayal of her in the following threads: with Tartarus (back when I played him temporarily), meeting Theseus, second meeting with Theseus.
Remember, don't send in an epic length audition post if you cannot post that long normally. I want an example of what your regular everyday posts with her would be like. Also, keep in mind quality over quantity, though you need a certain quantity to show effort and creative thought.
Name: Adamanthea
Named after: A nymph in Greek mythology who hid Zeus from his baby-eating father
Age: 9
Breed: Missouri Fox Trotter
Gender: Female
Color: palomino
Markings: Small white snip
Height: 15.1 hh
Personality: Adamanthea is essentially a gentle soul, a trait retained from her days as a Keeper. But her years outside the enchanted walls have hardened her, especially in the face of Tartarus's growing madness. She tries to seek good wherever she goes, but all she finds are the traits once erased from her: hatred and greed. She has learned to hate again, to hate the accursed object that is driving her love mad. She doubts his love for her, and hopes that the South will win so he will cease to obsess over it. She knows very little of the object's nature, only the Elders know what it is, where it is hidden, and what it can do. And the Elders' lips are sealed by the fates, any attempt to speak of the object to one who is not an Elder will cause their mouths to refuse to form the words. All Adamanthea knows of the object is a few songs on its subject. She has forgotten many of the words, but one line that stands out is:
He who seeks the object will find it his bane
The mind that turns to power will become insane
She is just about the most depressed soul you can hope to find. The air is colder around her, the sky turns cloudy over her head, the grass withers where she walks, that kind of stuff. Or, at least, it does in her eyes. Life holds no joy for her any more; where there used to be a spark of life and playful rebellion, is now just the broken shell of a withered soul. She could probably cheer up, if she wished to; at least to the point where she no longer entertains suicide on a regular basis, but somehow she doesn't seem to bother trying to get better. The only thing she holds onto is the hope that Tartarus may miraculously return to his old self; that the war will be over and she will once again have her grey stallion all to herself.
History: You know her current history. You know what she is doing now. You know, allready, how her fate is tragically tangled with the world's most cruel soul. But what of what she used to be? Before she knew the name of Tartarus, before he spead his evil almost to the far reaches of the world. Adamanthea was born to two high-ranking keepers, not Elders by a long shot, but respected and well-known by all. All through her early years she was taught the honorable ways of a Keeper, and grew up well-versed in Haven lore. She was quiet, she kept to herself, she was well-controlled, and everything else the daughter of a Keeper should be.
Until Tartarus came.
For, at the turn of the last century, as the masses of band leaders swept across the plains to enter into the Haven of Hesperides, a young grey stallion passed through the mighty walls. He was strong in his youth; both in body and mind. His many scars, even from his young age, showed that he had endured many a hard time. But his young age made him unruly and undisciplined, and his hard past made him bitter. When he heard about a secret Object of Power that the Keepers held from the world, his mind jumped at the thought of obtaining power where he had none. He befriended Adamanthea, indending at first to only use her for his purposes, but with time, she grew on him. He actually fell in love. Funny now, the thought of one cruel dictator loving any but himself. But, as it was, he found himself returning more and more often to her presence. And after that? Well, allow her to tell you herself...
written by Schatten
"Hello, Tartarus."
"You came."
"Hmm. You knew I would."
"Glad you could make it."
"You should be."
"Yes, I know."
...
Come here."
"Tartarus, I really shouldn't..."
"Come now, no one will find out. It is late; only the moon is awake."
"But if anyone ever found me, they would..."
"If anyone ever found out, they would have me to answer to."
"Allright..."
I move my tired legs, my pretty little stilts, as he calls them, and motion towards Tartarus. Every step feels wrong, all wrong. Where am I going? What am I doing? The daughter of a Keeper such as I should be nowhere near this young rebel. And yet I cannot tear myself away.
It's a funny thing, love. Even as I reach my darling little grey my guilt is replaced by the most wonderful feeling. I would imagine it is how the sun must feel when it rises every day; loaded with joy and yet still flowing over. It is uncontainable; it makes me want to leap and scream. I hate this composed state that has been thrust upon me; all my life I have been taught to carry myself with dignity, until I feel that not even my hooves themselves are free to frolick and wander as they see fit. My very breathing is measured, my steps counted. But not Tartarus. He breaths a different air; one that is there soley for his enjoyment. Just the way he walks seems to say that he could really be walking anywhere he choses, that the ground is fortunate, nay, privaleged to have one such as him striding upon it. And it has gotten him into trouble. One has but to glance upon him, thin, battered, and scarred, to see that. But one has but to glance into his depthless eyes to see that it is worth it.
"So, ye dare to spend time with me, you rebellious little vix? Tsk, tsk, what would Erytheia say to that? Spending time with another, what a horrible crime."
Tartarus gives a playful kick and chuckle. I should be mad at him for mocking me, I know, but I'm not. It's the least I can do to hold my dignity together and put on a mock-serious face as he continues to insult everything I've been taught to adore. I should know better. It should feel wrong. And yet it feels so good.
Why should I continue to live for another? For the community, for the world? I am not the world. I laugh at my enslavement now. Now, that I am here with Tartarus; now, that I am drunk with my freedom. I don't care what they'll do to me tomorrow. I live for today.
I close my eyes and inhale. What is it about this midnight air? Why does it feel so much better to breath? My dam used do say that Artemis enchanted the world at night; that everywhere the silver moonlight touched was blessed. I am too old to believe such things now, but it is nice to remember.
I open my eyes. Immediately, I wish that I didn't. Tartarus looks stiff. His muscles are tense, the horrid sort of tense that means he is thinking deeply. No prize to who guesses what his thoughts dwell on. I amuse myself by reciting word for word what he is about to say, so well do I know his response. He takes no notice, so strong are his thoughts and so quiet my words.
"Tell me, Ada, tell me about... the Secret. If you would."
The last sentence is a joke. I can see it in his eyes that he knows that this pains me; and he hates to give me grief. But he simply must know. I have tried to resist before; but it is like fighting the wind. You never win.
He cares about me. You can tell, Tartarus does not wish to cause me harm. He wishes the best for me. It is allright, is it not? All souls must be allowed some curiosity. Why should I with hold something from my love that would make him happy? It's not dangerous. Words do no ill.
Better to keep the peace, anyway. I don't know what would happen if I refused him. I don't know.
The Secret. Always the Secret. Never the Object, never the Thing. It proves his character. The grey one is more interested in the revealing of that witheld than the thing itself. The Secret; it speaks of hidden things, of information, of words. That is all he wishes to hear. I hope.
"Tartarus, it is late! This is not the time, not the place for stories! Would you ruin everything we have hoped for over one story?"
Oh, how he looks pained! But only for a moment.
"Then do not tell me! Sing! Sing me a song. I wish to hear that beautiful voice of yours. Come, my little mockingbird, will you deny me a song?"
I laugh at him. Once again, he has won. The songs of old are better, anyway. They speak in riddles and rhymes, instead of fact and fiction. I walk up to him and begin with his favorite.
*********************************************************************************
I am jolted from darkness. Tartarus also seems to be recovering from a rude awakening. In front of me, I see black eyes, and the rest of the horse it belongs to. I cannot help recoil; it is one of his friends. One of those horrid Northern beasts. He seems to enjoy their company, but I still fear them.
The black eyes laugh. And the rest of the horse laughs along with it.
"Out late again, Tartarus? I see you have your darling little sleeper with you, as well. Perhaps you would do well to remember our planned flight before you sneak off and fall asleep with your little mistress."
Cruel laugh, cruel words. Cruel beast.
The stranger's words jolt me awake. Insults I can ignore, but what is this about falling asleep? It can't have been for long, it was only a short rest after I finished my song...
The sky is still black, but the horizon is glowing. Too close to morning for my comfort. I cannot but scold myself for my stupidity. And yet the stranger does it for me.
"Is it quite wise, Tartarus, to be aquainted with such a thing? Best to leave her behind if she is to cause trouble. Or better still, leave her corpse behind..."
I feel myself grow cold.
"Tartarus..." I say, pleading for help.
I needn't have bothered. Tartarus steps between the brute any myself and spits out the following;
"I'll be leaving what's left of your corpse behind if you have a deathwish, Morpheus."
Not elegant with words, perhaps, but along with the poisonous glare shot at the brute is enough to make me feel safer. Morpheus. That is his name. I will have to remember that.
Morpheus seems on the verge of rebellion for a moment, but quiets. Finally, he says
"Well if you wish to leave this place alive, you will hurry along."
And with that, he rushes off; turning and galloping toward the Haven Wall full-throttle.
"Tartarus, I don't know about this. I really came to say goodbye..."
He interrupts me, staring at me. He almost seems amused.
"Did you really?"
I know that I didn't. He knows that I didn't. Why bother pretending?
I take off in the draft's wake; not waiting for Tartarus to follow me and trying desperately not to look back, not to look back...
*See Imbros's history to learn more about Adamanthea*
I also had plans for a mini-plot with Theseus and Adamanthea. Adamanthea just wants the old Tartarus back, and she understands that cannot happen while he seeks the Object. So she goes to the South to inform them of goings-on in the North to help them stop Tartarus, if they can. Theseus, through some fluke, is attracted to her and eventually admits it. When he finds out that she is Tartarus's mistress he'll want her to stay with him but he must send her back to Tartarus so the northern drafts don't attack the South to get her back. She'll continue to visit, but only for short amounts of time as Tartarus gets suspicious of her disappearances, and their meetings will bring as much, if not more, pain than pleasure.
PM all auditions to Spectra.
Keep in mind that Adamanthea is an important character, so you must be able to write decent posts of a good length (700+ words regularly) in order to provide the detail necessary for this character. You can read up on Schatten and Sarrie's portrayal of her in the following threads: with Tartarus (back when I played him temporarily), meeting Theseus, second meeting with Theseus.
Remember, don't send in an epic length audition post if you cannot post that long normally. I want an example of what your regular everyday posts with her would be like. Also, keep in mind quality over quantity, though you need a certain quantity to show effort and creative thought.
Name: Adamanthea
Named after: A nymph in Greek mythology who hid Zeus from his baby-eating father
Age: 9
Breed: Missouri Fox Trotter
Gender: Female
Color: palomino
Markings: Small white snip
Height: 15.1 hh
Personality: Adamanthea is essentially a gentle soul, a trait retained from her days as a Keeper. But her years outside the enchanted walls have hardened her, especially in the face of Tartarus's growing madness. She tries to seek good wherever she goes, but all she finds are the traits once erased from her: hatred and greed. She has learned to hate again, to hate the accursed object that is driving her love mad. She doubts his love for her, and hopes that the South will win so he will cease to obsess over it. She knows very little of the object's nature, only the Elders know what it is, where it is hidden, and what it can do. And the Elders' lips are sealed by the fates, any attempt to speak of the object to one who is not an Elder will cause their mouths to refuse to form the words. All Adamanthea knows of the object is a few songs on its subject. She has forgotten many of the words, but one line that stands out is:
He who seeks the object will find it his bane
The mind that turns to power will become insane
She is just about the most depressed soul you can hope to find. The air is colder around her, the sky turns cloudy over her head, the grass withers where she walks, that kind of stuff. Or, at least, it does in her eyes. Life holds no joy for her any more; where there used to be a spark of life and playful rebellion, is now just the broken shell of a withered soul. She could probably cheer up, if she wished to; at least to the point where she no longer entertains suicide on a regular basis, but somehow she doesn't seem to bother trying to get better. The only thing she holds onto is the hope that Tartarus may miraculously return to his old self; that the war will be over and she will once again have her grey stallion all to herself.
History: You know her current history. You know what she is doing now. You know, allready, how her fate is tragically tangled with the world's most cruel soul. But what of what she used to be? Before she knew the name of Tartarus, before he spead his evil almost to the far reaches of the world. Adamanthea was born to two high-ranking keepers, not Elders by a long shot, but respected and well-known by all. All through her early years she was taught the honorable ways of a Keeper, and grew up well-versed in Haven lore. She was quiet, she kept to herself, she was well-controlled, and everything else the daughter of a Keeper should be.
Until Tartarus came.
For, at the turn of the last century, as the masses of band leaders swept across the plains to enter into the Haven of Hesperides, a young grey stallion passed through the mighty walls. He was strong in his youth; both in body and mind. His many scars, even from his young age, showed that he had endured many a hard time. But his young age made him unruly and undisciplined, and his hard past made him bitter. When he heard about a secret Object of Power that the Keepers held from the world, his mind jumped at the thought of obtaining power where he had none. He befriended Adamanthea, indending at first to only use her for his purposes, but with time, she grew on him. He actually fell in love. Funny now, the thought of one cruel dictator loving any but himself. But, as it was, he found himself returning more and more often to her presence. And after that? Well, allow her to tell you herself...
written by Schatten
"Hello, Tartarus."
"You came."
"Hmm. You knew I would."
"Glad you could make it."
"You should be."
"Yes, I know."
...
Come here."
"Tartarus, I really shouldn't..."
"Come now, no one will find out. It is late; only the moon is awake."
"But if anyone ever found me, they would..."
"If anyone ever found out, they would have me to answer to."
"Allright..."
I move my tired legs, my pretty little stilts, as he calls them, and motion towards Tartarus. Every step feels wrong, all wrong. Where am I going? What am I doing? The daughter of a Keeper such as I should be nowhere near this young rebel. And yet I cannot tear myself away.
It's a funny thing, love. Even as I reach my darling little grey my guilt is replaced by the most wonderful feeling. I would imagine it is how the sun must feel when it rises every day; loaded with joy and yet still flowing over. It is uncontainable; it makes me want to leap and scream. I hate this composed state that has been thrust upon me; all my life I have been taught to carry myself with dignity, until I feel that not even my hooves themselves are free to frolick and wander as they see fit. My very breathing is measured, my steps counted. But not Tartarus. He breaths a different air; one that is there soley for his enjoyment. Just the way he walks seems to say that he could really be walking anywhere he choses, that the ground is fortunate, nay, privaleged to have one such as him striding upon it. And it has gotten him into trouble. One has but to glance upon him, thin, battered, and scarred, to see that. But one has but to glance into his depthless eyes to see that it is worth it.
"So, ye dare to spend time with me, you rebellious little vix? Tsk, tsk, what would Erytheia say to that? Spending time with another, what a horrible crime."
Tartarus gives a playful kick and chuckle. I should be mad at him for mocking me, I know, but I'm not. It's the least I can do to hold my dignity together and put on a mock-serious face as he continues to insult everything I've been taught to adore. I should know better. It should feel wrong. And yet it feels so good.
Why should I continue to live for another? For the community, for the world? I am not the world. I laugh at my enslavement now. Now, that I am here with Tartarus; now, that I am drunk with my freedom. I don't care what they'll do to me tomorrow. I live for today.
I close my eyes and inhale. What is it about this midnight air? Why does it feel so much better to breath? My dam used do say that Artemis enchanted the world at night; that everywhere the silver moonlight touched was blessed. I am too old to believe such things now, but it is nice to remember.
I open my eyes. Immediately, I wish that I didn't. Tartarus looks stiff. His muscles are tense, the horrid sort of tense that means he is thinking deeply. No prize to who guesses what his thoughts dwell on. I amuse myself by reciting word for word what he is about to say, so well do I know his response. He takes no notice, so strong are his thoughts and so quiet my words.
"Tell me, Ada, tell me about... the Secret. If you would."
The last sentence is a joke. I can see it in his eyes that he knows that this pains me; and he hates to give me grief. But he simply must know. I have tried to resist before; but it is like fighting the wind. You never win.
He cares about me. You can tell, Tartarus does not wish to cause me harm. He wishes the best for me. It is allright, is it not? All souls must be allowed some curiosity. Why should I with hold something from my love that would make him happy? It's not dangerous. Words do no ill.
Better to keep the peace, anyway. I don't know what would happen if I refused him. I don't know.
The Secret. Always the Secret. Never the Object, never the Thing. It proves his character. The grey one is more interested in the revealing of that witheld than the thing itself. The Secret; it speaks of hidden things, of information, of words. That is all he wishes to hear. I hope.
"Tartarus, it is late! This is not the time, not the place for stories! Would you ruin everything we have hoped for over one story?"
Oh, how he looks pained! But only for a moment.
"Then do not tell me! Sing! Sing me a song. I wish to hear that beautiful voice of yours. Come, my little mockingbird, will you deny me a song?"
I laugh at him. Once again, he has won. The songs of old are better, anyway. They speak in riddles and rhymes, instead of fact and fiction. I walk up to him and begin with his favorite.
*********************************************************************************
I am jolted from darkness. Tartarus also seems to be recovering from a rude awakening. In front of me, I see black eyes, and the rest of the horse it belongs to. I cannot help recoil; it is one of his friends. One of those horrid Northern beasts. He seems to enjoy their company, but I still fear them.
The black eyes laugh. And the rest of the horse laughs along with it.
"Out late again, Tartarus? I see you have your darling little sleeper with you, as well. Perhaps you would do well to remember our planned flight before you sneak off and fall asleep with your little mistress."
Cruel laugh, cruel words. Cruel beast.
The stranger's words jolt me awake. Insults I can ignore, but what is this about falling asleep? It can't have been for long, it was only a short rest after I finished my song...
The sky is still black, but the horizon is glowing. Too close to morning for my comfort. I cannot but scold myself for my stupidity. And yet the stranger does it for me.
"Is it quite wise, Tartarus, to be aquainted with such a thing? Best to leave her behind if she is to cause trouble. Or better still, leave her corpse behind..."
I feel myself grow cold.
"Tartarus..." I say, pleading for help.
I needn't have bothered. Tartarus steps between the brute any myself and spits out the following;
"I'll be leaving what's left of your corpse behind if you have a deathwish, Morpheus."
Not elegant with words, perhaps, but along with the poisonous glare shot at the brute is enough to make me feel safer. Morpheus. That is his name. I will have to remember that.
Morpheus seems on the verge of rebellion for a moment, but quiets. Finally, he says
"Well if you wish to leave this place alive, you will hurry along."
And with that, he rushes off; turning and galloping toward the Haven Wall full-throttle.
"Tartarus, I don't know about this. I really came to say goodbye..."
He interrupts me, staring at me. He almost seems amused.
"Did you really?"
I know that I didn't. He knows that I didn't. Why bother pretending?
I take off in the draft's wake; not waiting for Tartarus to follow me and trying desperately not to look back, not to look back...
*See Imbros's history to learn more about Adamanthea*
I also had plans for a mini-plot with Theseus and Adamanthea. Adamanthea just wants the old Tartarus back, and she understands that cannot happen while he seeks the Object. So she goes to the South to inform them of goings-on in the North to help them stop Tartarus, if they can. Theseus, through some fluke, is attracted to her and eventually admits it. When he finds out that she is Tartarus's mistress he'll want her to stay with him but he must send her back to Tartarus so the northern drafts don't attack the South to get her back. She'll continue to visit, but only for short amounts of time as Tartarus gets suspicious of her disappearances, and their meetings will bring as much, if not more, pain than pleasure.
PM all auditions to Spectra.
