Post by Jeannette Báthory on May 12, 2008 9:45:37 GMT -5
STATISTICS
Full Name: Jeanette Bathory. Naturally such a nifty name is not her given name but rather the one she has adopted over the years and the only one she will ever go by – the surname taken from the infamous Elizabeth Bathory who bathed in the blood of virgins.
Her real name is Emily Collins not quite as interesting and vampy really.
Nickname: Genie, Jan, Mistress
Age: 32
BEAUTY
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Deep forest green
Overall Appearance: Jeannette has a dark gothic appeal to her. Flesh as pale as some vampires (mostly for the fact she doesn’t venture out into the sun much). She stands rather tall for a woman and rather slim but contently rounded in the right places. Long black hair tumbles down her back ram rod straight. A pale bony face with sunken cheeks usually supports layers of makeup. Her appearance is very much that of a stereotypical vampire from the dark make up to the pale flesh, to the confidence and seductive manner in which she holds herself and the gothic sense of dress.
Likes:
[x] Vampires!
[x] The 80’s goth scene
[x] Renaissance style clothing – CORSETS.
[x] Being the center of attention
[x] The idea of immortality
[x] Her club
[x] Sarcasm
Dislikes:
[x] Humans – dull.
[x] Vampires who take the piss at her mortality damn the snobby gits
[x] The idea of growing old and dying
[x] Werewolves
Strengths:
[x] Determined
[x] Seductive
[x] Persuasive
[x] Knowledgeable
[x] More well educated then you’d believe
[x] Large vocabulary uses fifteen words where one would suffice
Weaknesses:
[x] A decadent decay of seeping sin
[x] Desperation
[x] Tries to be badder and darker and more knowledgeable about the vampire world then she truly is
[x] Is still in the end only a human.
Habits:
[x] Quick to anger
First Impressions:
The ice queen. At first glance Jeannette appears to not feel or care for anyone or anything. Sarcastic and incredibly dry most think her quite rude in the first meeting. A glassy expression lies over her eyes giving her a distinct appearance of not truly being intouch or caring about the world around her.
Personality:
Cold. Jeannette firmly believes the world is doomed and truly can’t bring herself to care. She craves entertainment and bores incredibly easily, humans no longer satisfy her need for enticement after the knowledge of vampires. She is incredibly calculating and far smarter then most think her. Sarcastic and dry in how she addresses people even the vampires she adores.
Perhaps a tad unstable she easily flies off the handle resorting to extreme violence, her thinking lacks in the usual logic of most mortals straying to the darker hues of humanity.
HISTORY
Life:
Jeannette (or Emily as she was known then) was raised to a rich family, a mother heavily involved with the sciences of engineering and a doctor as a father. Needless to say beside their high profile careers their daughter was of little to no importance. Her childhood was uneventful, the usual girl growing up forced into private school, cello lessons ect by her parents and their obsession with education. As a late teen she became mixed in the ‘wrong crowd’ dabbling in the world of drugs and sex which some believe is what have lead to a slight insanity in her later life. Forever she had been fascinated with the ideals of vampires – Anne Rice and gory films what filled the majority of her weekends when she was not forced into study.
It was at the mere age of twenty three, heading home after a night out stumbling slightly from booze and ludicrously high heels she stumbled into an alleyway. And what she saw was something she had never imagined was possible. A vampire – feasting. The moment he noticed her most would have fled screaming, Jeannette merely stood in a utter awe at his beauty, the elegance and cool confidence in which he held himself.
Her life was sparred and Jeannette fled from her home all but selling her soul to this vampire, utterly enamoured, intoxicated. He gladly adopted what he saw as a useful pet all the while hinting promises of immortality to her pale ears. Such promises were never fulfilled her ‘master’ destroyed by a rabble of local werewolves. Left utterly alone there were few choices left to Jeannette, the sensible would be to return to life as a human and ignore the wonders she had been shown another was to shout her mouth off and be slaughtered by what she had gathered was some kind of government from her lords words.
She attempted to settle, but the boredom of humans and their blindness soon led her to attempt everything to return to the vampire world. Thus she opened a club. The La Serpant de Rouge, a once dingy building hidden in the back alleyways of Washington now filled with dark velvet, music and of course what else to draw vampires? Blood. It took little for her to find others who knew of vampires like she and even less to convince them how to fetch blood to stock her club with the promise of large lump-sums of cash.
It was an immediate hit and for the first time Jeannette was shown to the world of other vampires, finally could estimate just how many were hiding in America alone. But still she has found none willing to change her – the ultimate goal of her existence.
Clique Info: She knows many faces, acquainted with huge amounts of creatures but she has never found any cliché or close friends she really adjusts with.
ALL ABOUT YOU
Name: Kaitlyn
Age: 16
Other Characters: Marcus
Other Sites: Visions of the night, Beyond Twilight
Experience: 4-5ish years
Example1:
visionsofnight.proboards105.com/index.cgi?board=headquarters&action=display&thread=214
{Marcus}
Example2:
The day time was of no interest to Jeannette. America was to hot, to sunny! Her days were spent with little more then sleep, the meals she was still forced to eat much to her disgust and run chores. Not like the nights. No the nights were entirely different. With the setting of the sun came the life of the club she lived above, came the bringing of those who feasted on blood, the beautiful ones. Some would come with mates, some alone for the drink or hopes of company, some with a mortal merely for entertainment, merely for something to bite on through out the night. But no matter who it was – they came.
The now silence surrounded her would be filled with the blaring of music, the soft talk of the undead, the giggles of young girls and handsome men she employed to loiter the dance floors, the dark alleys leading around the bars, through the never used toilets, up the stairs that lead to the balcony surrounding the floors, around the back to the rooms ‘privileged costumers’ were entitled to use for the right price. They always left a terrible mess that she had to pay to be cleared up. And she was always there. Dressed finely, swimming through her punters, charming and smiling ensuring all was well.
The sun would be setting soon. And in a few hours once again life would be restored. She rose silently from her place perched on the window skill gazing down to the empty streets where humans usually walked – sickening creatures, foolish! They did not know what she knew. They had no idea. Turning she swanned through the large apartment placed above her club, high beside majority of flats and warehouses. The entire place was filled with rich furniture, macabre art in rich burgundies, dark reds and blacks. A present from ‘Daddy’ at the soft flutter of eyelashes for his deranged daughter. The windows sported large black blinds that when wound down would cast the entire apartment into darkness for she had long since adjusted to nocturnal sleeping habits to make the most of her livelihood. But one day… one day she wouldn’t have to sleep again.
She stood adorned in what she would wear that evening. Typically gothic as all her states lay, long hair cast straight down her back, parted lazily at the top slightly back combed for effect. A tight black corset bound tightly around her slim waist, cleavage thrust to the heavens, waist crammed impossibly tight ribbon cascading down her back from where the steel bones were tightly tugged in. Fishnet tights lay beneath the skirt that was tucked into the corset, flaying over long hips falling into ragged cuts at the back past her knees, at the front just above to show the slim legs adjourned with long black boots, the heel impossibly high and slim curved in an old Edwardian style. Her neck adjourned a large choker perhaps to hide the pulsing veins and arteries in her neck from those she consorted with. A vampire she longed to e perhaps, but not dead at a vampires hands. Her face was as painted as a dolls, pale with thick eyeliner, the fake feathered lashes, the shock of red lipstick to a otherwise monochrome appearance. Silently she unlocked the latch of her apartment kicking it open to show the floors heading from the floor down. She followed them down easily, the club giving a soft creek at the new movement – awakening from its sleep. At the foot of the stairs she reached the ‘back rooms’ for the privileged customers. The dark corridor, decked with a wooden floor, the walls covered with more morbid paintings between the dark burgundy walling. With a right turn she was soon lead to the door beside the bar between the ‘toilets’. The bar was stacked with all manner of bottles illuminated with the green neon lighting. They were never opened, merely for show what her punters came for was kept blissfully warm.
Dark green eyes cast around her carefully observing the large dance floor surrounded by thick red velvet sofas and chairs, walls decorated in that same dark burgundy pattern, a large mirror spanning across one of the walls faked blood splatter spread across it for effect. Truly any human or at worst police who caught a glance inside would merely think it the typical goth club, a fetish club at the very worst although the décor was rather tasteful for that. In but hours this room would be filled with life, another night of supreme excellence with the undead.
Quote: I will look to like if looking like moving. Nicely strategically placed that
Full Name: Jeanette Bathory. Naturally such a nifty name is not her given name but rather the one she has adopted over the years and the only one she will ever go by – the surname taken from the infamous Elizabeth Bathory who bathed in the blood of virgins.
Her real name is Emily Collins not quite as interesting and vampy really.
Nickname: Genie, Jan, Mistress
Age: 32
BEAUTY
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Deep forest green
Overall Appearance: Jeannette has a dark gothic appeal to her. Flesh as pale as some vampires (mostly for the fact she doesn’t venture out into the sun much). She stands rather tall for a woman and rather slim but contently rounded in the right places. Long black hair tumbles down her back ram rod straight. A pale bony face with sunken cheeks usually supports layers of makeup. Her appearance is very much that of a stereotypical vampire from the dark make up to the pale flesh, to the confidence and seductive manner in which she holds herself and the gothic sense of dress.
Likes:
[x] Vampires!
[x] The 80’s goth scene
[x] Renaissance style clothing – CORSETS.
[x] Being the center of attention
[x] The idea of immortality
[x] Her club
[x] Sarcasm
Dislikes:
[x] Humans – dull.
[x] Vampires who take the piss at her mortality damn the snobby gits
[x] The idea of growing old and dying
[x] Werewolves
Strengths:
[x] Determined
[x] Seductive
[x] Persuasive
[x] Knowledgeable
[x] More well educated then you’d believe
[x] Large vocabulary uses fifteen words where one would suffice
Weaknesses:
[x] A decadent decay of seeping sin
[x] Desperation
[x] Tries to be badder and darker and more knowledgeable about the vampire world then she truly is
[x] Is still in the end only a human.
Habits:
[x] Quick to anger
First Impressions:
The ice queen. At first glance Jeannette appears to not feel or care for anyone or anything. Sarcastic and incredibly dry most think her quite rude in the first meeting. A glassy expression lies over her eyes giving her a distinct appearance of not truly being intouch or caring about the world around her.
Personality:
Cold. Jeannette firmly believes the world is doomed and truly can’t bring herself to care. She craves entertainment and bores incredibly easily, humans no longer satisfy her need for enticement after the knowledge of vampires. She is incredibly calculating and far smarter then most think her. Sarcastic and dry in how she addresses people even the vampires she adores.
Perhaps a tad unstable she easily flies off the handle resorting to extreme violence, her thinking lacks in the usual logic of most mortals straying to the darker hues of humanity.
HISTORY
Life:
Jeannette (or Emily as she was known then) was raised to a rich family, a mother heavily involved with the sciences of engineering and a doctor as a father. Needless to say beside their high profile careers their daughter was of little to no importance. Her childhood was uneventful, the usual girl growing up forced into private school, cello lessons ect by her parents and their obsession with education. As a late teen she became mixed in the ‘wrong crowd’ dabbling in the world of drugs and sex which some believe is what have lead to a slight insanity in her later life. Forever she had been fascinated with the ideals of vampires – Anne Rice and gory films what filled the majority of her weekends when she was not forced into study.
It was at the mere age of twenty three, heading home after a night out stumbling slightly from booze and ludicrously high heels she stumbled into an alleyway. And what she saw was something she had never imagined was possible. A vampire – feasting. The moment he noticed her most would have fled screaming, Jeannette merely stood in a utter awe at his beauty, the elegance and cool confidence in which he held himself.
Her life was sparred and Jeannette fled from her home all but selling her soul to this vampire, utterly enamoured, intoxicated. He gladly adopted what he saw as a useful pet all the while hinting promises of immortality to her pale ears. Such promises were never fulfilled her ‘master’ destroyed by a rabble of local werewolves. Left utterly alone there were few choices left to Jeannette, the sensible would be to return to life as a human and ignore the wonders she had been shown another was to shout her mouth off and be slaughtered by what she had gathered was some kind of government from her lords words.
She attempted to settle, but the boredom of humans and their blindness soon led her to attempt everything to return to the vampire world. Thus she opened a club. The La Serpant de Rouge, a once dingy building hidden in the back alleyways of Washington now filled with dark velvet, music and of course what else to draw vampires? Blood. It took little for her to find others who knew of vampires like she and even less to convince them how to fetch blood to stock her club with the promise of large lump-sums of cash.
It was an immediate hit and for the first time Jeannette was shown to the world of other vampires, finally could estimate just how many were hiding in America alone. But still she has found none willing to change her – the ultimate goal of her existence.
Clique Info: She knows many faces, acquainted with huge amounts of creatures but she has never found any cliché or close friends she really adjusts with.
ALL ABOUT YOU
Name: Kaitlyn
Age: 16
Other Characters: Marcus
Other Sites: Visions of the night, Beyond Twilight
Experience: 4-5ish years
Example1:
visionsofnight.proboards105.com/index.cgi?board=headquarters&action=display&thread=214
{Marcus}
Example2:
The day time was of no interest to Jeannette. America was to hot, to sunny! Her days were spent with little more then sleep, the meals she was still forced to eat much to her disgust and run chores. Not like the nights. No the nights were entirely different. With the setting of the sun came the life of the club she lived above, came the bringing of those who feasted on blood, the beautiful ones. Some would come with mates, some alone for the drink or hopes of company, some with a mortal merely for entertainment, merely for something to bite on through out the night. But no matter who it was – they came.
The now silence surrounded her would be filled with the blaring of music, the soft talk of the undead, the giggles of young girls and handsome men she employed to loiter the dance floors, the dark alleys leading around the bars, through the never used toilets, up the stairs that lead to the balcony surrounding the floors, around the back to the rooms ‘privileged costumers’ were entitled to use for the right price. They always left a terrible mess that she had to pay to be cleared up. And she was always there. Dressed finely, swimming through her punters, charming and smiling ensuring all was well.
The sun would be setting soon. And in a few hours once again life would be restored. She rose silently from her place perched on the window skill gazing down to the empty streets where humans usually walked – sickening creatures, foolish! They did not know what she knew. They had no idea. Turning she swanned through the large apartment placed above her club, high beside majority of flats and warehouses. The entire place was filled with rich furniture, macabre art in rich burgundies, dark reds and blacks. A present from ‘Daddy’ at the soft flutter of eyelashes for his deranged daughter. The windows sported large black blinds that when wound down would cast the entire apartment into darkness for she had long since adjusted to nocturnal sleeping habits to make the most of her livelihood. But one day… one day she wouldn’t have to sleep again.
She stood adorned in what she would wear that evening. Typically gothic as all her states lay, long hair cast straight down her back, parted lazily at the top slightly back combed for effect. A tight black corset bound tightly around her slim waist, cleavage thrust to the heavens, waist crammed impossibly tight ribbon cascading down her back from where the steel bones were tightly tugged in. Fishnet tights lay beneath the skirt that was tucked into the corset, flaying over long hips falling into ragged cuts at the back past her knees, at the front just above to show the slim legs adjourned with long black boots, the heel impossibly high and slim curved in an old Edwardian style. Her neck adjourned a large choker perhaps to hide the pulsing veins and arteries in her neck from those she consorted with. A vampire she longed to e perhaps, but not dead at a vampires hands. Her face was as painted as a dolls, pale with thick eyeliner, the fake feathered lashes, the shock of red lipstick to a otherwise monochrome appearance. Silently she unlocked the latch of her apartment kicking it open to show the floors heading from the floor down. She followed them down easily, the club giving a soft creek at the new movement – awakening from its sleep. At the foot of the stairs she reached the ‘back rooms’ for the privileged customers. The dark corridor, decked with a wooden floor, the walls covered with more morbid paintings between the dark burgundy walling. With a right turn she was soon lead to the door beside the bar between the ‘toilets’. The bar was stacked with all manner of bottles illuminated with the green neon lighting. They were never opened, merely for show what her punters came for was kept blissfully warm.
Dark green eyes cast around her carefully observing the large dance floor surrounded by thick red velvet sofas and chairs, walls decorated in that same dark burgundy pattern, a large mirror spanning across one of the walls faked blood splatter spread across it for effect. Truly any human or at worst police who caught a glance inside would merely think it the typical goth club, a fetish club at the very worst although the décor was rather tasteful for that. In but hours this room would be filled with life, another night of supreme excellence with the undead.
Quote: I will look to like if looking like moving. Nicely strategically placed that
