Post by JESTER on May 18, 2012 18:05:09 GMT -5
Jestan Albelin
NICKNAME(S). Jester.
AGE. 3.
SPECIES. Horse.
BREED. Trakehner.
GENDER. Male.
APPEARANCE
HEIGHT. 18.3hh.
WEIGHT. 1200 lbs.
COAT. Seal brown.
EYE COLOUR. Ice blue.
NOTABLE MARKINGS. None.
PHYSICAL. Empty. Void of all kindness and piety, the blue voids resembled only ice - the eyes of a dead man, kept alive as reparation and reparation alone. Those pits, set into an aquiline skull, chiseled as from stone itself - with arched nostrils & a solid, lofty brow. Suffering, but bereft of all emotion - this statue of a creature appears only as one that has been silent for many a moon. Coal tipped auds barely alert, but finely shaped like the petals of a deadly flower - sharp and fast. Perhaps nearer to the color of old blood, his coat is unkempt & uncared for, reflecting the will of stallion who has lost everything dear to him.
Though rare, when delivered, the voice of this ghost is rough, fire like & deep, caught low somewhere between his lungs. Though emotionally torn, the stallion is a graceful sight. Muscles trained over the years show strongly through the darkness of his coat, legs like strong stilts dipped in ink carry him while a crested neck holds his head in a warlike manner. Nothing, save for the emptiness of his hollow gaze give his inner turmoil away. He is a warrior, & a warrior he shall remain. The jagged scar that runs below his chest, out of sight, is a constant admonition of this.
Hanging in tendrils, his coal banner is disarrayed and wild - creating an agrarian mirage, where Jester himself is a man of honest nobility. To those unknowing, he is polluted - a figure of darkness & silence that strikes fear into the hearts of the young. Speechless, tall and tenacious, he embodies a nightmare being - a thing of horror and sorrow and dust. A broken man with nothing to show for it.
PERSONALITY
FEARS.
x - Closeness of any kind.
x - Losing those he cares for.
x - Being alone with his thoughts.
VICES.
x - The unbearable sorrow that both mutes and internally maims him.
x - A dark lust for all things terrible.
x - He is almost completely incapable of all emotion.
STRENGTHS.
x - Fearlessness, born from the lack of anything to live for.
x - Agility, thanks to his fine breeding.
x - A sharp mind, smart yet often clouded.
PET PEEVES.
x - Those that try to put a silver lining around everything, no matter how terrible it might be,
x - Those who can not take things seriously.
x - Happiness without reason.
LIKES.
x - The soft feeling of rain cooling his hot blood.
x - Understanding, though he'd never admit it.
x - Silence.
PERSONALITY. He is a shadow of his former self. For i am every dead thing, in whom love wrought new alchemy. What sentiment ever existed in him has been wrenched from his very soul. A darkness has it's grip firmly on the empty cavity where a beating heart once lay. Damaged beyond belief, this stallion has become a ghost, a wraith - invisible to even himself. Floating through life simply because he breathes. A quintessence even from nothingness, From dull privations, and lean emptiness. He is the dust, mingled from both heaven & hell. A dull fire burning slowly in the night, flickering in desperation, but refusing to be doused.
Though it may feel to him as if all is lost, his astuteness remains strongly intact, torturing him day & night. Giving him a reason to involve himself in banal activities - solely to keep his overactive mind away from the thoughts. I dreamed I spoke in another's language, I dreamed I lived in another's skin. He tracks things, anything. After years of repeating this impotent act - he has reaped the benefits. Jester can track anything larger than a newt for miles - even over water. It is the wrongly imposed guilt that drove him to do this, and it will be the guilt that drives him on. But I am none; nor will my sun renew.
Millions of hidden faces litter his nights like carrion. He has known none since the death of his life. Passerby's collect like needled insects in his mind - noticing their features but ignoring their existence. It takes a special kind of being to interrupt his silence, and thaw him from his eternal reverie. Here is a list of terrible things, The jaws of sharks, a vultures wings. The rabid bite of the dogs of war, the voice of one who went before, but most of all the mirror's gaze, which counts us out our numbered days. At his hooves, ashes and debris, blood. Blood. Never will he forget the day. He was made a martyr. His family a sacrifice to blind Asmodeus. Never will he comprehend what has become of a world that was once sane.
As with all things damaged, Jester had birthed a sick coping mechanism. Delighted now in the morbid suffering of others - almost as if to tell himself - you are not alone in your hell. Little does he know, he very well might be. You cut up a thing that's alive and beautiful to find out how it's alive and why it's beautiful, and before you know it, it's neither of those things, and you're standing there with blood on your face and tears in your sight and only the terrible ache of guilt to show for it. The crunch of death below his hooves coaxes a dull sense of life within his empty chest. Perhaps it is the thrill of the last drops of lifeblood spattering his dark exterior, perhaps not. It is this that proves how accidents create madmen.
HISTORY
MOTHER. Vitani Naruu, deceased.
FATHER. Hysaier Albelin, deceased.
SIBLINGS. Lunar Naruu, deceased.
HISTORY. Nothing ever begins.
There is no first moment; no single word or place from which this or any story springs. The threads can always be traced back to some earlier tale, and the tales that preceded that; though as the narrator's voice recedes the connections will seem to grow more tenuous, for each age will want the tale told as if it were of its own making.
Born under a full moon, and named according after his father, Jestan Albelin was a healthy, exquisite example of a foal. He was the first born to his dear mother, Vitani - and oh how she worshiped his every footfall. With love and every fiber of tenderness she could muster, the silvery mare raised Jestan to the very best of her young abilities. And a fine job she did of it too - there was only so much a mother could do with an absent mate. But the small herd needed a scout, and that the position that Hysaier filled - scathing the lands for any sign of abnormalities.
For the first year of his life, Jestan was an inquisitive, polite colt. Like his mother, he was incredibly smart, & this led to many questions being asked - he wanted to know why & how come about everything. We want to reveal ourselves at will, and speak our minds. The leader of the herd, a barren mare with a mate lost to the dreaded disease, had hand picked the young'in to stand as the Protect once he was old enough, which of course was a great honor to both Jestan and his mother.
On his second birthday, Yuva, his fathers scouting partner, returned to the herd bloodied and battered - speaking in dying riddles of how they were attacked by a grizzly & how Hythaire was killed. This did not affect Jestan too much, as he had hardly known the stallion from which he came. However, Vitani took a hard blow from the death of her mate. She became bitter, short of words - a heartbroken mare with only her son left. She didn't even have the heart to tell anyone that she was pregnant with a second foal. No tears, please. It's a waste of good suffering.
The months bore on. Jestan tried the best he could to comfort his beloved mother, but she was never the same. When Lunar was born though, the fire of her life was somewhat renewed - returning her to a small state of her former self. Lunar was fair like her mother - easy on the eyes and full of life. Jestan immediately took a powerful brotherly interest over her, protecting her since the moment she left her mother's belly.
It was on a summer morning when Jestan was walking with Lunar through the woods, hoping to show her some of the interesting birds that he loved so much. Macaws was it? Something along that line - stunning multicolored things that squawked oddly when you came too near. Unfortunately, it wasn't that strange sound that he heard that day - but rather the frantic neighing of his herd, and a terrible, terrible screaming. Not knowing what was happening, he instructed Lunar to stay exactly where she was - promising that he would return for her, then spinning on his heals and galloping straight for home.
It’s only when you’ve lost someone that you realize the nonsense of that phrase “It’s a small world”. It isn’t. It’s a vast, devouring world, especially if you’re alone.
The screams grew louder, dulling out the sound of his heart beating in his ears. The sight that greeted him would haunt him forever.
A grizzly, possibly the very same that had slain his father, stood over the lifeless form of Vitani, it's wretched face shoving her to her side to expose her soft belly. But before the thing could desecrate his mother any further, he burst between them, letting out a furious neigh that shook even himself. Shocked, the bear retreated a few steps, but recollected itself just as quickly, lurching towards Jestan as he planted his back hooves and reared, aiming his hooves at the things head - unfortunately, he misjudged his aim, and instead of him striking the bear, it struck him. Large claws digging deep into the underside of his chest. The pain was blinding, but so was the rage. He spun himself around, lashing out with his back legs and connecting violently with the bears jaw. In agony, it fell, scrambled to it's paws and retreated back into the woods. it was then that Jestan saw the bulk of his herd, standing on the opposite shore of their shallow river... just watching.
"COWARDS!" He screamed, anger coursing through his veins. "You could have protected her!" They were too ashamed to even look at him, and instead, turned to leave. A muffled sound interrupted his pursuit of them. "Lunar..." The whisper had barely left his lips before he was vaulting back into the woods, terrified to lose the last remaining member of his family. But he was too late. His blind rage had cost him the life of his sister, his beautiful Lunar, whose silver pelt was now stained with crimson.
The bear, recognizing him, had backed up, but was not leaving. The wound in his chest was draining him, but he still had strength left, and even if he didn't, the rage would power him. He took a three steps back, looked the thing in it's stupid little eyes, and then dashed forward, leaping off all four hooves and diving into the huge creature. Both of them crashed to the forest floor in a flurry of browns and reds. From the ground he lashed out at it's head, striking it clean on the nose and feeling the crunch of bone. As quickly as he could, he scrambled to his feet, reared up above to predator and brought himself crashing down on it's skull. A man kills the thing he loves, and he must die a little himself.
By the time he was done, sweat and blood had mixed together on his body, making him impure. A pulp was all that was left of what was once the head of the bear. Meaningless and pitiful. The only thing left for him to do was to take the body of his beautiful Lunar, and place her beside Vitani. And so he did, collecting flowers to place around the two of them. The herd was long gone, showing their spinelessness. Showing their selfishness.
That day, Jestan died along with his family. Replacing his name, and leaving his home behind.
PLAYER
NAME. Trixx or Omega.
AGE. 23.
EXPERIENCE. Much experience. Many wow. Such amaze.
OTHER CHARACTERS. Earos.
HOW’D YOU FIND US. -cough- My site. -cough-
PREFERRED CONTACT METHOD. PM or mail.
