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12/05/2019 03:25 PM 

Owes List

Cap: 2/6Owe: Amara - Reply (Dec 4)Blake - Reply (Dec. 1)Owes Me:Discussions :SloanUpdated: Dec 5 @ 3.27pm EST

September Rains Fire

12/05/2019 11:10 PM 

Post Apocalyptic OC

{Basic Information}Full Name: Blair Emerson CampbellPronunciation: Bl-air Em-er-son Camp-bellNickname/Alias: N/AGender: FemaleSpecies: HumanAge: 30 Birthday: Sunday, March 19th, 1989Sexuality: StraightNationality: AmericanReligion: N/ACity Or Town Of Birth: Killeen, TexasCurrently Lives: On the roadLanguages Spoken: English,  ArabicNative Language: EnglishRelationship Status: Widowed{Physical Appearance}Face Claim: Chloe Grace Moretz (Photo below)Height: 5ft 4inWeight: 137 lbsFigure/Build: SlenderHair Color: Blonde Hairstyle: Medium, slightly wavy, a little past her shouldersFacial Hairstyle: N/AEye Color: GreenSkin/Fur/Ect Color: White skin tone.Tattoos: Her children's names and birthdays, one on each wrist. It was done in their favorite colors.Piercings: Ears, however she rarely wears earrings.Scars/Distinguishing Marks: N/APreferred Style Of Clothing: Her army uniform, complete with bulletproof Kevlar vest.Frequently Worn Jewelry/Accessories: Unless you count the Kevlar vest, then N/A.{Health}Smoker: Yes, whenever cigarettes or even the occasional cigars are available Drinker: Yes, mostly Tequila, could probably secretly drink you under the table.Recreational Drug User? Which?: N/AAddictions: NicotineAllergies: Bees, peanutsAny Physical Aliments/Illnesses/Disabilities?: N/AMental Health: PTSD, anxiety attacks, you'd be surprised what it's from though.Any Medication Regularly Taken: N/A{Personality}Personality: Blair is a rough and tumble girl from Texas, and she takes absolutely no shame in where she was from or her family. She doesn't take sh*t from anyone, and if your the one talking trash about her friends or family you better believe she's the first to get in your face about it. Trust and respect are earned with Blair, not given automatically. She is a firm believer in getting what you deserve and helping those in need. Once you get past that hard outer shell, you'll see her soft side, the woman she once was before being hardened by the Army and the apocalypse.Likes: There were many things she used to enjoy in life, her job, house, children, husband, and other simple pleasures. She only wishes she could get these things back or have peace in her life. Dislikes: Not being able to protect those around her, feeling helpless, people who only care about themselves.Fears/Phobias: The dark, the undead, large groups of people.Hobbies: As a full time mother, wife, and serving in the military Blair didn't have much time for personal things. Now that the world has ended, there is even less time.Taste In Music: Not sure if this applies because of the type of character she is, but I feel like Blair would be big into country music.{Skills}Talents/Skills: Excellent in hand to hand combat and never misses her target when she is using a gun of any kind.Ability To Drive A Car? Operate Any Other Vehicle?: Yes, Chloe can drive a car. As a matter of fact she can also drive motorcycles and eighteen wheelers.{Eating Habits}There is a whole section here about the way your character eats with the character bio sheet I am using. However I do not think this applies with the type of character this is. It's the apocalypse Blair will eat whatever non outdated food she can find, weather she likes it or not.It also mentions drinks that she prefers. Again with the world having ended Blair will drink what is available to her so long as it isn't rotten. As far as liquor goes though, she she'll mostly drink beer and tequila.{House and Home}Describe The Characters House/Home: Blair went from living life on an Army base in a two story home with her family, to living alone in a RV she pulls behind her truck while she's on the road. It's a large RV with a nice clean interior, but she misses the home she had a family in.Do They Share Their Home With Anyone? Who?: No, Blair lives alone.Significant/Special Belongings: A single family photograph that she rescued before fleeing the house. It is a Christmas photo of her husband and their two children.{Career}Level Of Education: She graduated high school and the US Army BootcampQualifications: There is a long list of qualifications my character has, but without giving too much away she has field medic skills and she can operate the machine gun on the back of the army trucks.Current Job Title And Description: Seeing as how the world has ended, and nobody has jobs anymore, none. However before the Apocalypse Blair was a Sargent in the US Army.Name Of Employer: N/A{Combat}Peaceful Or Aggressive Attitude: Depends on what she's fighting.  Any enemy will be met with a full force attack of some kind designed to kill, or severely injure them.Fighting Skills/Techniques: Blair was trained to work with or without her weapons, and to never stop fighting unless physically unable to continue. Nothing specific to note here, so N/A?Special Skills/Magical Powers/Ect: N/AWeapon Of Choice, if any: M9 Beretta (Standard Army Ranger service pistol)Weaknesses In Combat: Sneak attacks, someone who knows how to sneak up on Blair will always throw her off guard. Her emotions also can sometimes get to her, especially when family is mentioned.Strengths In Combat: Works wonderfully under pressure, can adapt to any situation.{Family, Friends, and Foes}Parents Names: Carter Wilcox, Victoria WilcoxAre Parents Alive Or Dead: Presumed DeceasedIs The Character Still In Contact With Their Parents?: No, not since some weeks before the apocalypse.Siblings? Relationship With Siblings?: One Sister, Emily Wilcox. Emily is ten years younger then Blair but the girls have always gotten along well with one another. She doesn't know where Emily is now, or if she's even still alive.Other Important Relatives: N/APartner/Spouse: Johnathan Campbell (Deceased, killed by their children when they died of the virus that created the zombies)Children: Mikayla and Ethan Campbell (Deceased, killed by the zombie virus)Best Friend: Andrew Hutcherson (It is not known where he is, but I may add him into the story at one point or another. He's gay and so doesn't have a chance of stealing Blair from your character.)Other Important Friends: N/AAcquaintances: N/APets: N/AEnemies? Why Are They Enemies?: The undead and anyone threating her friends and family. I think the description speaks for itself.{Backstory}Describe their childhood (newborn - age 10): Blair Emerson Wilcox was born on sunny Sunday morning on March 19th in 1989, to proud parents Carter and Victoria Wilcox. Blair had a fairly normal childhood, hitting all of her developmental milestones on time, and growing into a beautiful little girl. The problem was Carter was in the military and since they lived on military bases, the Wilcox family often moved around. This caused Blair to become somewhat secluded, having trouble making friends and acting out in school. Finally when Blair was ten years old Victoria wound up pregnant again, and Carter decided to leave the Army with a honorable discharge. Nine months later, Blair's sister Emily Anne Wilcox was born. From that moment on Blair tried to be close with her and be her friend.Describe their teenage years (11 - 19): However as soon as Blair made it into High school at the age of fourteen she fell in the with the wrong crowd. It wasn't long before she started drinking, partying, and even doing drugs occasionally. She even lost her virginity at an early age, and all of this strained her relationship with her parents and sister, driving them apart some for a few years. When she was sixteen she met a young man named Johnathan Campbell, whom she fell in love with. He started to change her, slowly Blair became the woman she was before starting high school.Describe their adult years (20+): At age twenty she finally realized she had to get her life in order. By this time, she had already been dating Johnathan for a few years. She got herself signed up for the Army, and Johnathan proposed before she left for boot camp. After she came back from boot camp and the two of them got settled on the base, they had their wedding. Almost immediately after that they announced their pregnancy with their first child, Ethan Everett Campbell. One year after that they had their daughter Mikayla Michelle Campbell. The family lived a happy life together on the base until the children were about 6 and 7 years old. Then Blair got told she was going to be doing a 6-month tour in Iraq. 3 months after she left the world was plunged into chaos. They were sent home and Blair found her city in ruins. They had been told a virus had gotten out and was turning people into cannibals. She was supposed to go with a group to the root of the problem but abandoned her post and went home. Banging frantically on the door of her house and getting no answer, she kicked in the door only to be lunged at by Ethan, he appeared to have been the first of their children to turn. She screamed and shot him in the head out of fear. As she held him and cried, Mikayla appeared, also being a zombie at this point. She had fresh blood dripping from her lips. Peyton knew her husband was no longer alive at this point. She shot her daughter and buried the family in the backyard. After that she raided the military base and fled in a truck.PLEASE NOTE THAT I DO NOT OWN THIS PICTURE. I USED TWO DIFFERENT PHOTOGRAPHS TO CREATE THIS ONE WITH PHOTOSHOP!


12/05/2019 01:43 PM 

CH-6: The Animal Inside

STERLING:Sterling asked no questions. He slipped into the van alongside Ana. Eyes glancing at Javier for the moment before they shot forward at the group in front. There was only one path into the estate. The same path used to exit. POP! POP! POP! Those seven heads called out by the squawk earlier were outnumbered and outgunned. They stood no chance. The sedan and truck were bombarded with bullets. A Psicópatas was sent to each vehicle to fire a few more shots at each body inside. Survivors were not an option."F***ing idiots." Sterling scoffed, staring out the window, with his eyes glued to the two vehicles. He was trying to identify anyone of interest that could have been in either. He remained silent unless spoken to and avoided eye contact with Javier the entire drive back. Sterling had the feeling Javier wasn't his biggest fan. There wasn't a need to garner any extra attention. He knew that could be fatal.ANA:The van wasn't modified with bulletproof. There were no all-terrain wheels, no amplified engine. They were modern-day, old-school outlaws and left the property guns blazing. And there was nothing like the rush it gave Ana. Men down. Bullet-ridden walls. A destroyed target. Enemy number one so full of holes his children wouldn't even recognize him. The better play she silently mused would have been to murder his children. She didn't need some hell-bent kid hunting her down in five years and filling her ear with lead. Edwardo was their best driver and he swerved as those in accompanying vehicles massacred the oncoming occupants. And there was no calling card, no bravado in her departure. Just a natural f***ing high that cocaine could never touch. She heard Cesar but didn't acknowledge his assertion even if she agreed with him. Javier was in the rear leaning on a pile of cash so tall his head was barely visible over the top. Hours later, some men were still wearing blood on their skin, but the drinks flowed and the music rang through the open air. Their camp tonight was less rustic than in the past. The ranch had been foregone for a more contemporary manor near the coast. It would become a safe house for the future. An investment Ana called it when she handed the keys to Javier. The deed was in his name.She was wiping streaks of red from her neck in a hall mirror when she felt eyes on her back.STERLING:A bottle was taken from the main hall. The injured sicario found a silent corner of the manor, away from all the noise, to deal with his wound. He felt the bullet lodged inside his thigh. A feeling that wasn't an issue until his adrenaline came down. Now, he could feel that f***er real good.Tequila was poured over the bullet wound. A grimace of pain was etched on his face but his teeth gritted together to seal off any sounds of weakness. The last thing Sterling needed was for someone to question his toughness. Brown eyes fell upon the forcep he had in his hand. He took a deep breath knowing what was about to come would hurt more than the initial burn of the bullet. The forcep was pushed into his flesh. He was breathing a bit quicker. Anyone with half a brain understood how much it hurt. The bullet retrieved seconds later and yanked out to ensure no infection. Sterling released a sigh of content. One problem was fixed yet another remained - Javier. Once he patched up the wound with another splash of alcohol and medical wrap, Sterling made his way back towards the celebration in the main hall. A swig taken from the homemade tequila as he made his way down the hallway. That was when he spotted her.He captured a moment in which she was being more of a woman than an absolute beast. Quietly removing the blood from her beautiful dark locks. Sterling didn't bother declaring his presence. Instead he walked towards her from the side and took her hand, placing the bullet within her palm, "This was meant for you."ANA:She isn't a caretaker. She doesn't have a knack for nurturing. She was born a survivalist. It was every man for himself. On the way back, her stare tick-tocked from his wound to the open landscape, wind blowing through hair matted with blood and sweat. She contemplated how he'd taken a bullet for her, how he'd been the one to discover the money and how his passion fueled the men. But, was it too good to be true? Was he that good? Few men, even if they profess allegiance, are willing to risk their own life, especially for a woman he hardly knew. When he unrolled her palm, the bullet was still warm when he dropped it to her skin, his blood now inking clean hands. Sincerity faded into a passive grin as though he didn't understand and she was being delicate in her explanation. With the hint of a wider grin, she leaned into him like a secret was unfurling between them. Her Spanish whisper was laced with a deranged confidence. "They brought you to me, you know? Los muertos (The dead). I hear them." Her pupils wired with strange delight and she eased off of his shoulder, squeezing the bullet that would soon hang about her neck. "Do you want a doctor?" Javier failed to mention they had a doctor on speed dial. Most likely on purpose. He was at the far end of the hall in the kitchen stirring up some grub and pouring drinks, but maintaining his sobriety. The creaks of wooden chairs and loud toasts amplified over music to celebrate their lucrative haul. Tonight was going to facilitate a major turning point for the operation.STERLING:Los muertos. He was still building a profile on Ana. Nothing written on paper of course. It was all mental. Sterling needed to understand how and why witchcraft influenced her actions. Did it fill her with false confidence? There were many questions that needed to be answered. The mention of doctor exposed a grin. He too leaned in towards her. Just enough so only they could hear one another. A whisper of his own backed with curiosity. "Doctor?" Doctors could not provide Sterling the answers he yearned. Only the woman in front of him could provide those insights. He stared into her pupils. Searching for something far deeper than anyone else had seen. The celebration, cheering, and music down the hall no longer a concern. They were in their own bubble for the moment. "What are they telling you? Are they telling you what I need?" He was referring to the spirits. The voices of the dead that drifted through her ears. The ones that gave her the ideas for every wicked deed she committed. The ones that told her to kill children if need be. The ones that turned her into an absolutely vile and filthy animal.ANA:Her fangs might as well have been dripping with blood on the way out of Zambada's estate. She was in the zone: that maddening, ferocious, blood-f***ing-thirsty zone. But now, up close to him, she was a quiet, diluted threat. "Si. A man who can stitch your leg." Her eyes bugged when her chin nudged at him, seemingly playful. "So that. Your leg. Doesn't fall off." Infection was a real thing in these parts. She once spent four months recovering from an infected knife wound at her back. Ask her. She'll tell you that the spirits saved her then, too. I'm untouchable.The rag in her opposite hand is laid to the narrow table beneath the mirror and her hips are fully facing him now. He doesn't boast the gringo bravado she knows of Americans and she finds herself attracted to his palpable virility. She's wearing pride and the thrill of the kill tonight like a hunter who's brought home a feast for his village. Subsequently, her feathers are fanned and there is a raging sexuality that licks at the space between them. Stretching her neck, she confesses that she's turned off the voices of the dead and slips between he and the table for the door. The brush of her bosom passes along his elbow. "Come. Smoke with me."STERLING:She was certainly a beauty from any angle. He admired that bosom pass by and followed in pursuit. A smoke would certainly keep his mind off the freshly patched wound. Perhaps even ease the pain that still lingered. Sterling walked up the stairs with Ana towards the roof. A more private setting to share a smoke between the two. He hadn't realized the beauty of the estate until his eyes were scanning it from atop. Flowers grew along all the sides with fresh fruits hanging off the branches of the trees scattered across the property.The potent smell of sulfur dioxide filled his nostrils from the light of a single match. He glanced over at what Ana was lighting. It appeared to be a blunt but he wasn't too sure. The scent it gave off was far off from the marijuana he was used to. "A special blend?" he questioned, nodding towards what rested between her fingers. Perhaps it was something she smoked only after successful missions.ANA:Javier slanted into the hall when he heard footfalls rise the staircase. He grunted and moved back to the pot he was stirring. Men on the perimeter were thick and patrolled at short intervals in case retaliation reached this far. Ana was confident in her burgeoning army. Some were forced into allegiance, but once they settled in, she rewarded them regularly. Most stayed in check fearing spiritual curses they'd witnessed first hand or heard convincing rumors. And then there were others, like Cesar, who she hadn't figured out yet. Shaking the match free of the exquisitely rolled cigarillo, she inhaled perfectly grown ganja. She laced the celebratory ones with her own blend of spirits. After one inhale, there was a visible change in her aura. Her shoulders dropped and the mercurial grin softened; her guard was coming down. The coiled viper began to unveil alluring notes of femininity. She slowly wandered to the edge of the rooftop patio dropping her voice over a shoulder for him to follow. "Where are you from, Cesar? Tell me about you."STERLING:"Mazatlan." He walked with one hand holding the wrist of the other, both behind his back. The CIA had provided him an entire cover story for moments like this. It had been rehearsed in front of different agents. All asking different questions. Attempting to poke holes in the origin story of Cesar Villanueva. "I come from a family of fishermen. Our primary customers were the gringos that came for vacation. We usually sold our catches to the resorts until the gulf cartel came into business. ...They pushed most of us out of business." He said the last part with some bitterness. A well practiced line meant to give off the desire for revenge. "They needed control of the ports and convinced most that it was in their best interest to close business. Those that didn't served as examples for the rest." He didn't need to say it out loud for Ana to understand. Those that refused were killed off. Much like those that said no to her."What about you Ana? How did you get started in all of this?" The agency had very little on Ana's origins. They knew only what was shared by informants and even that lacked essential details. Sterling would be their first legitimate source on anything related to her.ANA:"Mazatlan?" Having been raised in Sinaloa, she queried him on various things he might know. Landmarks. The school he went to. She even tried to trip him up by offering a laugh over a nonexistent annual festival. Surely, your family went? But when he didn't fall into her trap, she shrugged it off but added another tick mark in the believable column. And the more his story started to add up, the less rigid she became.Ana was not in the habit of exchanging personal information. Not only was it simply not her style. she let very few people into the private sanctum of her personal world. Only Javier knew where her mother lived for safe keeping. The elder woman was a known Mexican priestess who disappeared from the map. It was an extremely strained and complicated relationship. But he asked how she got started and a plume of smoke blew back on her, almost like a whisper from spirit to keep herself in check from this stranger. Her lips parted for the story, but sealed once more with an inhale. The deeper, cutthroat story was shoved back down. "Mi padre era un sicario. My mother was his whore." It was a difficult relationship that scarred Ana and left her mother with a broken heart. "I said I would never be like either one." She smirked, pinned the butt of the smoke in her lips and fanned her arms wide to show off her accomplishments. "Instead, I became both of them," she added, thin-lined lips bumping over the paper.STERLING:These details, while vague, would be a useful starting point. Sterling saved it in the back of his noggin for briefing later on. "Your father was a sicario?" He knew it extracting information from her would be difficult. Sterling didn't expect to get it all out of Ana on the first try. "That must have been an interesting up bringing." Eyes drifted off her cigarillo and onto the arms she fanned in the air, noticing a few scars. Markings that could be used later on to identify her."How so? They say most children become like their parents. Perhaps it is true in your case. You've taken up the art of murder much like your father. The art of being a whore...I'm not too sure." He was threading a thin line. Sterling wanted to be respectful so he held back from saying any further. She was the boss after all. "I don't subscribe to that school of thought. My father didn't have the spine to stand up for himself. My mother passed giving birth to me. I never knew a thing about her. Just that she gave her life for mine. I like to think that I've carved myself into someone far more different than either of them."ANA:She had already hired two men to field check Cesar Villanueva and see what they could find. If she was going to let him in close, close like this, she wanted a guarantee. Plus, Javier would never let her live it down if she didn't triple check this motherf***er. Her lids narrowed curiously when he clung to the whore part. Locals would have gone in a different direction entirely. Whores were common; witches were not. "Mm," she hummed in agreement and recoiled a bit. Her right cheek rose into her eye at the idea of not being a whore. Sex was but a prescription for good health her mother used to say. Her voice grew solemn as though she were recalling a long lost memory. "Women bear most of life's burdens." Flicking the smoke end over end, the cherry dissipated and disappeared on the way to the ground. "And," she pivoted placing her behind on the railing, "It's why we deserve the glory." Her smile was almost sentimental and buried in there somewhere was a dark lonesomeness. Her reply to his mention of family came late. "I would have killed your father." Weak men had no purpose.STERLING:The quotes about burden was associated with her mother. If she was a whore, Ana's mother was left to raise her alone. There must be memories tied to those times. Sterling took note and placed a reminder to revisit the idea later on if he ever had the opportunity. A devious smirk grew upon his face with the mention of glory, "Women are always deserving of the glory. After all, most of life's burden falls on them, right? It's too bad very few have every achieved it." Distance was closed between the two of them. Just enough space now for an arm to extend out. "I guess that's where you come into play, right?" Sterling dipped his head to the left, eyes now glued on Ana, "You will be the first to achieve such greatness? To write your name into the books of history? Many already know of you. I guess it's your time to ensure they remember you, hm?" There no longer was any space between them. His arms stretched out on either side of her. Hands gripping the railing that secured the roof. "A waste of your time, honestly." She had said more in this short frame of time than at any other point. Sterling had to ensure such talks would continue. He took a chance. Lips met hers for an intimate kiss. One that was backed with fiery passion.ANA:She was a twisted Joan of Arc or maybe a reincarnation of Scathach. She was more like a warrior than a queen, but she had the determination to wear heavy crowns and rule with a mighty sword. She was theatrics combined with know-how, mad enough to slice men wide open and resilient enough to weather the mental fallout. His accolades spoke to an enormous ego, but at the same time, she questioned their authenticity. Trusting souls are trampled ones and this cartel chieftain had never been the gullible sort. But what did speak to her, loud and f***ing clear, was the rugged masculinity dripping from this man's skin. Blood and all, he touted layers of machismo that she hadn't come across in a long time. Worse, his fearlessness around her was foreign. Most men in her company wore a palpable unease.When he came close, she made no motion to keep him at bay. Rather, she stood her ground, didn't arch her back a single hair. Their eyes met for a moment: a stand-off. And, he was clearly going to fire. There was no reservation in his kiss. She could feel every fiber of his confidence in lips that mashed into hers. And through it, a release she'd been holding onto swelled. Ana was an explosion of sexual energy bottled for too long. His kiss uncorked a fury of pent-up frustrations and triumphs. She roped an arm around his neck and molded close to his chest. He'd feel the fever in her hold, in her lips. He'd feel the animal inside.STERLING:It was like he was drugging her. Her lips against his felt perfect and glorious. Right hand taking on a life of its own - drifting down her torso to cup her left breast. Sterling kissed Ana's neck, lips dragging the skin, sucking and nipping at her sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of generous open mouthed kisses across her collar...[censored]One last kiss was placed on her lips before Sterling turned Ana around. He wanted her to enjoy the beautiful view because Lord knew this man was about to enjoy his...[censored]

#ana #sterling #elmayo


12/05/2019 09:56 PM 

Thoughts at Night.
Current mood:  angsty

                    Sloan laid in bed, candle burning on the nightstand. She was brainlessly strolling through instagram’s artist hashtag creeping on local artists’ work to scout for the gallery. The weather had gotten chilly, even for Los Angeles, it was late fall. This was a hard time for Sloan. She loved the holidays, it was magical but for her they had never been anything more than daunting. Soft Christmas music played in the background while Sloan got lost in her thoughts. This time last year Sloan was just moving into her current loft. Her father, Allen had helped her move multiple boxes onto the elevator and into her new place. The two spent three days decorating, organizing, laughing and crying over life. Tears over Sloan’s mother death and lit a memorial candle for Claire. Laughs over Sloan trying to paint a drunk portrait of her dad for his birthday. The two were closer than ever after his pleas years ago to get her into a rehab center. Their bond was unbreakable, special. It was formed from devotion, pain, and love. Sloan’s thoughts drifted from her father to her work. Work had been going great. At this time it was one of her favorite things. Her boss Slade was a good person. He cared about her and her ambitions. He trusted her gut even though she came later than she would have liked to the subject of art. He knew her past and treated her with respect and kindness. She was a bit anxious concerning work because Slade was  back from his vacation and there were a few new artists she had met with and was hoping he agreed with her choices to offer them spots at the gallery. Work had always been a light in her dark thoughts but recently her anxiety and depression has flared up making everything just a bit harder. She would be glad when things wouldn’t feel so hard again. From one shift to another, her memories drifted to some newer people in her life like Colton, Lainey, Libby, Dylan, Sam, Clay and Fran. Various people she met in her journey in Los Angels. Her life now was brighter than it has been. She was happy and healthy but the holidays were always a bit of a meh.  Sloan was lonely. There was no denying it, her life didn’t have love in it at this moment and she honestly didn’t know if that was even an option anymore. Her relationships has always taken a dive And Sloan  knew some was on her. She was doing the personal therapy to deal with her issues. She has been for years. Maybe she was just wishing for a turn around in that particulate area. The isolation made her ocd flare at times but it was manageable. She wondered if that’s all her life would be. Just manageable. Handling situations as they come but never taking the bull by the horns. On the outside her life was full. Friends and her dad. Her job and volunteering. Was it wrong to want someone to hold her this time of year? To want to bake cookies together, to shop for, to build gingerbread houses with? She was braver and better than she was before but life wasn’t finding her what she craved. Maybe it was time for a change. A few changes maybe.  Sighing aloud, Sloan turned of the music on her iPad, blew out the candle, hit the lights to make it pitch black and sunk further into her warm blankets. She rubbed away the few tears that managed to escape towards the end. Tomorrow was a new day and maybe time for new traditions. It was time to really embrace her new world.  

Lothiriel of Dol Amroth~ {FOS}

12/05/2019 09:44 PM 

Attack on the North (Dol Guldor)

  SPRING TA 3018 DOL AMROTH, GONDOR Prince Imrahil, receives a summons from his brother Denethor II,  requesting his company~ to learn of possible attacks in the north.  He leaves his daughter in charge of the cashel at Dol Amroth.The next day while riding the beaches, Lothiriel meets her dear friend and counselor, Dorthaneth, an elven leader who lives in the caves of Avorrim.  The caves are accessed via a rift midway between Edhellond and Dol Amroth.  (This group of elves, the Avorrim, were tasked by Cirdan of Mithlond to keep watch over the ancient havens.) Dorthaneth relates to her, grave warnings about Sauron’s release of Orcs and Easterlings to Mirkwood, Erebor and the Dale.   Because she knows Galadriel would want to know all,Lothoriel feels responsible to pass on this news.The princess then is bound for northeast for Lorien before traveling to Mirkwood.  She is accompanied by a troop of Swan knights.     

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