<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: comic sans ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Character Sheets: Part Two</strong></span></span></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Lottie Stewart</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatright">(http://images.sodahead.com/polls/001382863/tori_amos_xlarge.jpeg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Lottie  Stewart <br/><strong>Age:</strong> 22<br/><strong>Desired Role:</strong> Burlesque Dancers<br/>Place of Hierarchy: New Talent<br/><strong>Hair Color:</strong> Red haired<br/><strong>Eye Color:</strong> Green<br/><br/><strong>Physical Description:</strong> The most notable physical trait about Charlotte is that she is a conjoined. She is bound together with her identical sister by the hip. Despite this, she is still considered very attractive. Her long hair is reddish auburn in color. There is always a friendly smile on her face though during her performances it turns beguiling. Lottie tends to dress in an unassuming way when not performing in front of a crowd. However, obviously, when working her clothing is appropriate for the sensual setting, and she is often in an identical costumes to her sister. They do not mind pushing the limits with their clothing so often times it is viewed as risqué. Like her sister, Lottie's body is slim due to her lifestyle as a dance. She is also flexible in many different and interesting ways. <br/><br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong>Lottie is a little quieter than her sister Kate. She enjoys sewing and reading in her spare time. Of course, the carnival is her life  and her spirit. However, when her costume comes off, she would rather not engage in some of the more unseemly parts of the circus activities. When the costume is on, the girl is as confident as her sister. Lottie is the more submissive of the sisters or at least appears to be so she will often end up joining in some of the pursuits with Kate. Though not a drinker, when one is joined to a sister that likes a few drinks she cannot help but get a little tipsy. Lottie will join in with the fun, but really she prefers quieter times when she and Catherine are alone.<br/><br/>One thing both agree on is that they can be a little suspicious of men. Especially the men interested in the two for one deal. For indeed, they have had many offers.<br/><br/><br/><br/><strong>Brief History:</strong> <br/><br/><br/>The twins come from a very long like of carnies. It is said, though is likely just a story, their family has been in the business since before Rome. If one is to believe these stories, some of them even entertained some of the Caesars. Whatever the truth or lack of in the matter, it does make for interesting stories. Indeed, if there is truth in the matter, they do have some marginally famous ancestors in the family line. Indeed, their grandmother was a bearded lady of some repute. Their great grandfather had been a ringmaster himself and owned a small circus of his own. <br/><br/>However, due to his rather addictive nature. Love for both gambling and the sauce lead to the slow demise of the circus and carnivals in general for their family, and soon he was forced to sell it.  This meant that the family became more fragmented, and over the years this has continued to happen to a greater degree. <br/><br/>The twins' mother died in childbirth, and their father for a time went off the rails so they were brought up by grandmother. She personally considered them a gift from Carna so she refused what would have been a simple operation to separate their bodies. The twins did not mind being joined as they had never known anything different.<br/><br/>The two fitted into carnival life easily, even though the idea of ‘freaks’ was becoming distasteful to many of the more politically correct. From a young age, they worked many roles in a number of different circuses. The two were usually ticket touts and worked on some of the side attractions. All the time, their grandmother was working in various ways so the two would find an act of interest over and above the fact that they were conjoined twins.  <br/><br/>So they were trained hard and became quite the gymnasts performing in a most interesting fashion. Their moves always needed to be perfectly timed, whether it was this, or their obvious symbiotic nature, the two seemed to move fluidly together. Also, they appeared to be able to communicate in many ways without need for words. They were also taught by their grandmother in the art of the burlesque entertainment<br/><br/>With the death of grandmother and  father, that was little interested anymore. Finally, they found a far more normal lifestyle and family. Soon Kate and Lottie decided it was time to look for something a little larger than they were used to. The twins put out feelers into finding somewhere and indeed found that which they might be looking for.<br/><br/>Cirque De Sang Et De Flammes: Circus Of Blood And Fire <br/><br/><br/><strong>Introduction Post:</strong> <br/><br/><br/>Still dressed in their black clothing, Catherine and Charlotte stood with many of their friends and colleagues along with some of their family members. Yes, it is time to watch the final embers of the trailer burn. The occasional flickering flame mirrored the two girls' red hair even more so as the sun began to melt into the ever darkening skies. Slowly, the other mourners turned and walked away after saying their final goodbyes so that they might talk into the night and reminisce about the fine and grand old lady. The woman had been the true back bone of the family, and certainly she remain strong to the spirit of the carnival right up until the very end of her life.<br/><br/>The twins looked one last time of the old poster of the woman when she had been a performer. Even then with her beard, there had many a young men that tried to court and woo her, both other carnies and even a few that were not. They said goodbye silently kissed the poster and then laid it to rest in the glowing embers. The paper caught alight with a bright flare and then was gone. Just as grandmother had finally joined her husband.<br/><br/>Yes, Lottie and Kate would spend the night there and in the first light of morning. When the birds sang their chorus, the two knelt down and wiped the ashes upon their faces before joining the other mourners. Or perhaps they might be revelers. For though a sad occasion, all wished to celebrate the great life that they had known. So the tales and songs as well as the drinking continued. Finally, this came to an end so decisions had to be made as now they were no longer tied to this particular small circus because of duty and love the twins. After some discussion, they decided then to move on and find another circus or carnival better suited for their talents. <br/><br/>The girls had many contacts. They started to slowly put out the word that they were looking for work. At first, they took the usual totting jobs that one started with until they were able to get more information on one place that offered so much for their true potential. After further travel and speaking to certain interesting contacts and friends, eventually the two found their way to the destination that they hoped for, yes that Circus …<br/><br/>Cirque De Sang Et De Flammes   -<br/><br/>All it took now was them to impress the ring mistress.<br/><br/><br/><strong>Likes:</strong> singing, dancing, her twin, a glass of fine wine and the occasional illicit smoke, card games, sewing, reading, forget me not’s, and crunchy apples<br/><strong>Dislikes:</strong> Prejudice, lies, snobbery, laziness, those that don’t pull there own weight and rude and uncouth behaviour.</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button"> Kinky the Klown</div><div class="spoiler_body"> <div class="floatright">(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lgo2ig2kGk1qh25rpo1_500.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Keith Hunter Alias: "Kinky the Klown"<br/><strong>Age:</strong> 34<br/><strong>Home State:</strong> New Jersey<br/><strong>Desired Role:</strong> Clown/Knife Thrower/Production Designer!!! (Select Acts)<br/><strong>Place of Hierarchy:</strong> Elizabeth's talent.<br/><br/><strong>Hair Color:</strong> Naturally brown, but he dyes it more often than he showers.<br/><strong>Eye Color:</strong> Green<br/><strong>Height:</strong> 6'4"<br/><strong>Weight:</strong> 193 lbs.<br/><strong>Physical Description:</strong>  Tall, lean and tattooed all over. That is Kinky the Klown! He is almost never seen out of makeup (http://cdnimg.visualizeus.com/thumbs/63/a5/clown,clowns,content,friendly,happy,loving,man,men,mens,humor,photography,arts,pleased-63a5657075acd16a26c4e75e401dd011_m.jpg), though he's notorious for not caring if the design becomes smudged. He's always in search of the next tattoo or scar to remind him of where he's been and how far he's come. His "Tribal" view of body modification has left various scars, holes and artwork across his flesh.<br/><br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong> Outgoing and playful when in front of an audience, and always flirtatious. Behind the paint and good natured jokes, Kinky has a very dark side that others learn to fear and or avoid. When he's drunk, it's common knowledge that he blacks out and becomes something of an animal, steer clear. He takes almost nothing seriously, often referring to death as the ultimate punch line. The only thing that he does take seriously is of course the circus. It's his task to ensure that things run smoothly, transitions, ad libs, focus pulls, he's a master of distraction. When something that the audience isn't meant to see takes place, it's Kinky's job to make certain that all eyes are on him and his contemporaries. Pain and violence are also jokes to him, as he's never been ashamed to be the only one laughing.<br/><br/><strong>Brief History:</strong> Keith Hunter was still very young when his parents were killed in a car accident. Too young to have retained any lasting memories of either of them, in truth, he could scarcely remember their faces outside of picture frames. His earliest memory was of their funeral, as they were both being lowered into the ground. Everyone all around him, friends and relatives, all of them were crying. Keith wasn't crying though, he was laughing.<br/><br/>Even as a young boy, Keith knew it was wrong, his parents were dead, he should be miserable, not falling from his seat with laughter. Everyone was looking at him with evil eyes, but that only made him laugh that much harder. Did they really think that their grief was more real than his, just because he expressed it differently? When would it end? There was nothing he could do to quell the laughter, not with that goofy bearded blowhard bagpipe player tooting away. "Oh Danny boy! The pipes, the pipes are calling." He was still rolling around the grass after the hole was filled in and everyone had left. Everyone except one, "Carolyn Brooks, Social Services".<br/><br/>His first time in therapy had felt like more of a joke than the funeral had, the old tweed coated douche, with his salt and pepper beard and suede elbow pads. "Tell me about your parents." "They're dead." That was all Keith told him before he lost himself to the laughter, that should have been enough, what else did he want to know? It wasn't like rehashing the cruel fate of nature would ever bring them back, nothing would. That much, Keith understood with a crystal clarity.<br/><br/>The shrink, however, didn't get it. Keith was incarcerated for the first time then, in a mental health facility for most of his adolescence. As he grew, he grew impatient with the tedious rules and regulations and even the drugs grew tiresome. For the first time he wanted something more than what he had. He wanted freedom.<br/><br/>It was just a lucky coincidence that the circus happened to be in town when he made his escape. He remains at large, but clown paint does wonders to keep one's identity hidden. <br/> <br/><strong>Introduction Post:</strong> The heavy boots made a loud clicking sound as Kinky flipped the plastic tabs closed. He was already in full costume and makeup, in spite of the fact that the main tent was still being set up. All around, the sounds of hammers and bawdy voices rang out as the clown pushed off of the chair and struggled for a moment to balance on the arc stilts (http://www.flyjumperstore.ca/images/products/1931.jpg). He was wearing bright purple suspenders that seemed to be made of colorful sequins in such mass that whatever fabric they were made of was completely hidden, but no shirt under them. His pants were lime green and baggy in a style made famous by M.C. Hammer, made of a reflective, shimmery material that held the light.<br/><br/>After the first few hesitant steps, Kink took his first practice bounce, flailing his arms at his sides while he soared up, several feet off the ground after just a tentative hop. When he landed, the stilts bent like a bow and launched him back up, more sure of his balance, high enough for a full grown man to run under before he was falling again.<br/><br/>"Woo! Now we're cooking." Kinky wailed over the growing sound of ambient clatter. "Let me get the setups for the intro sequence. I want to make sure I can perch from a backflip."<br/><br/>Some of the stage hands who were close by groaned, Kinky was infamous for his temper and no one was in the mood to deal with his demanding fastidiousness that he applied to his staging. The task was quickly delegated to the newest techs who begrudgingly set up three small platforms, taking care to stake them deep into the dirt floor around the wide bases.<br/><br/>Each of the three columns was painted green with leaf stencils painted around each. At the top there was a round platform, each painted like a different colored flower. Kinky was laughing as he bounded over in long, bouncing strides.<br/><br/>"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! They look great, now back up a bit, let me try to land on one." Kinky shouted at the techs, already planting both stilts and beginning a front flip that ended in an awkward landing on the tallest platform. Kink took a long moment, flailing his arms and moving his sculpted core to rise up to standing. "That was close... Rig! Let me get a green wash down here."<br/><br/>Once Kink had his balance again, he stared down at the small platform stroking his chin. He'd hardly stuck the landing and it was only going to be more difficult when each of these platforms was occupied by a person in floral costume. He gave a few test leaps on the three foot platform while he was waiting for his light, but from somewhere up above, one of the techs called down to him.<br/><br/>"Look, clown! We're still wiring the grid up here. Besides that, you know how Elizabeth feels about colored lights." Some tech who was perched precariously along a catwalk barked. "I'll bring up the fronts and dim out the backs once we get-"<br/><br/>The technician was interrupted by a sharp electrical pop and a shower of sparks somewhere in the rafters, followed by the hum of generators and a wash of bright light. Kink took a moment to bask in their glow, their warmth, their delicious embrace. He waited for the tech to do as he'd promised, bringing up the spots to frame the painted columns at center stage. Once that was done he took a few warm up hops before bounding backward off the tiny platform into a high, sweeping backflip with his arms outstretched at his side, imagining the fluttering of the silken wings of his butterfly costume.<br/><br/>His stilts hit the ground and he bounded upward, spreading his legs in a wide split, made wider by the stilts before planting and bounding up to the next platform. He landed much easier this time. The lights helped.<br/><br/>"Yeah, that's better. Can we set those like that and maybe throw some woodland gobos on the outer half?" Kink called up to the rigging. "Let's get some shadows on this."<br/><br/>"There's plenty of time for all this later!" The same tech from before called back. "Let us finish, then we'll set your lights."<br/><br/>"Don't you make me come up there!" Kink wailed in reply, it wouldn't be the first time he'd scaled the rafters in pursuit of an uncooperative tech. The last instance had ended badly for everyone, the tech who was thrown from the rigging and Kink as well who had to endure Elizabeth's wrath for the deed. It was a bluff, this time. But the tech had no desire to find out the hard way. Slender, metal cutouts were slid into the appropriate lights, casting long shadows and blending leaf shaped beams with the other lights, creating the illusion of some unseen overhead canopy. "Was that so hard?" Kink asked at last, bounding off the platform in a front flip this time and landing without so much as a momentary loss of balance.<br/><br/>Confident that the lights were in place, Kink bounced in place a few times, pondering the vignette that would follow this one in sequence.<br/><br/>"The cue to bring back the floor lights will be when the bee stings the butterfly. Short blackout, fade up on all." Kink continued, giving more unwanted guidance to the capable techs. "Now, to check on the costumes."<br/><br/>Kink bounded toward the back of the tent, heading for wardrobe. He'd become so comfortable in the stilts that he forgot he was wearing them.<br/><br/><strong>Likes:</strong> Scotch, Cuban cigars, laughter, applause, blood, scars, piercings, tattoos, standing ovations, cash, good times, freedom, anonymity.<br/><strong>Dislikes:</strong> Rules, cages, fire, serious faces, police, judges, therapists.</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Olaana</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatright">(http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m4ruwzkjJn1r7wrq1o1_400.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Olaana Noemi <br/><strong>Age:</strong> 23<br/><strong>Home State:</strong> Mississippi <br/><strong>Desired Role:</strong> Act/ Beast Master<br/><strong>Place of Hierarchy:</strong> Elizabeth's Talent<br/><br/><strong>Hair Color:</strong> Black<br/><strong>Eye Color:</strong> Hazel with speckles of brown and green<br/><strong>Height:</strong> 5'9<br/><strong>Weight:</strong> 140<br/><strong>Physical Description:</strong> Olaana is a woman of tall height with long flowing hair, which reaches to the middle of her back when completely straighten, although most of the time it is in loose curls that form around her face or in a pony tail. Her entire back is tattooed with a spider web with a black widow at the center of her back. Due to the nature of her work, there are marks along her arms and legs due to hard labor along with miscalculations. Her hands are not smooth though not completely callused. She has gentle curve that displays her femininity. <br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div align="center">(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m2ox5b8N0H1qfx423o1_500.jpg)(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lyfe06mzaG1qabxuao1_500.jpg)</div></div></div><br/><strong>Personality:</strong> Olaana is a gentle person due to the extreme amount of patience necessary when dealing with animals. She is often found in a good mood with a smile on her face. There are moments when her temper flares up, but she manages to suppress killing someone by going for jogs around the circus grounds. She's a morning person with a love for sweets. Her desire to satisfy her sweet tooth has turned her train car room into a garden on wheels. She plants various types of vegetables and fruits to be used in pies. When on stage, a transformation is made as she literally becomes one with her beast. It is only through rigorous training of herself and animals that the tricks are able to be performed flawlessly. Some say that she becomes some type of dancing spirit during her acts. Olaana has no issue getting dirty since it is a requirement when working with animals. <br/><br/><strong>Brief History:</strong> One of the first sounds she heard upon taking her first breath into the world was the sound of an animal in the background of her mother's pained cries as she bleed out after giving birth to her. Olaana's father was a wildlife conservationist with interest in a wide variety of animals around the world. His love for his family and career often collided with each other, and this was the reason for the death of his wife. She was born in a foreign land since her father was in the process of researching a rare type of reclusive trope of monkeys. He was a selfish man, who was very much in love with his wife. So instead of leaving her in relative safety, her dragged his pregnant wife with him. The doctors traveling with them were not able to stop the bleeding caused by a tear made during birth. So as Olaana took her first breath, her mother took her last with just enough time to name utter a name for her only child. <br/><br/>The death of her mother sent her father in the depths of grief. Yet, instead of taking a step away from his career, her father drowned himself in work and completely ignored his daughter. Some whispered her father harbored a hatred towards her for killing her mother while other said it was due to her looking like a small replica of the woman. All throughout her childhood, she jumped from continent to continent with no friends other than the family pets to keep her company. From a young age, she displayed a skill with training her animals to do complex tricks. She watched her father for clues of how to do certain things with animals along with various television shows and books. Soon the animals in their house were well trained as a rescue or police dog, able to respond to a huge variety of commands. Her father took her under his wing for the first time to teach her about wild undomesticated animals. His presence was desired in many places so they were welcomed openly into zoos since many zoologist desired his knowledge to help animals in captivity to survive longer or reproduce. These were some of her favorite moments since she was allowed in the nursery homes where young animals without parents were being raised by humans. <br/><br/>Her education revolved around all types of animals from their behavior down to ailments common to specific species. Even though her father paid attention to her, it was not always for her benefit. He was harsh and impatient in his teaching with her. It seem to make him angrier that she did not reacted to his verbal taunts of her intelligence. So she was forced to endure his verbal abuse with a smile even though all his words killed her inside. Her only sanity was the animals. The animals helped her get through each day when alone and night when tears of sadness fell down her face. Part of her duties when dealing with smaller animals with her father during her training included cleaning after them, bathing, and feeding. It was not until they returned from a trip home to Africa did she encounter an amazing creature that literally touched her. By the time she was eighteen, Olaana was her father's legal apprentice and intern. She was a force in the research world along with an avid writer on different species she encountered. <br/><br/>Despite all these riches, she was not happy since her father still was not satisfied with her success. Her father's presence was requested in a small African town which was suffering from a series of attacks from a variety of animals. It seemed the village was a mecca for tragedy. In the past year, they had been raided by lions, losing children and older members along with having huts trampled by bull elephants. They arrived in the city just as one of the elephants left after killing another townsperson. The people were ready to take action into their own hands to shoot and kill any animal who came within town limits. This could not happen in her mind so she was given a time limit to stop the problem from happening. If she did not, a great deal of animals would be killed. Her father and her went to work, learning more about the creature's habits when away from the town. <br/><br/>It was then they learned a number of poachers were taking down calves illegally thus making the elephants act violently towards any human. They were coming near the village to move away from the poachers. The lions were a different case entirely. It appeared as though these were inexperienced male cubs just kicke from their homes. Neither appeared capable enough to take down a fully grown gazelle or buffalo so in their eyes the humans were easy prey. She worked day and night with her father to figure out a way to solve the issue. Relocate the animals or take care of the poachers? Neither option seemed to have a better success rate. It was always a risky move to relocate animals of such size. The villagers were getting antsy then all hell broke loose. <br/> <br/>The day before chaos erupted, Olaana was speaking with some of the villagers about the issues faced with solving the problems of neighboring animals. It was clear to anyone with eyes that the people were tired of waiting for the problem to be fixed since it was taking longer than expected. After nearly an hour negotiation, she was given more time, which was proving to be a valuable commodity. Her father was ready to call it quits. It seemed an impossible task to deal without killing the animals. "The lions have already tasted man flesh. They will never stop hunting here." His attitude on the elephants was the same. <br/><br/>She was about to head back to the field for work when a strange looking man caught her eye. Curiosity made her head over along with the need to tell the newcomer about the dangers involved with staying. The conversation with him proved interesting, and even though she wanted to prod his mind, there was no time for the simple pleasure of conversation. The day progressed until the sun lowered over the horizon and the land was covered in darkness. Olaana retreated to her room for some mapping of nearby lands possible to lure the elephants toward. <br/><br/>The sounds of screaming stirred Olaana from sleep at her desk as she jolted upward then ran towards the door. An attack. It was happening again. She ran outside as the villagers tried to evade the huge legs of elephants coming toward them. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed some of them picking up spears. "No!" The yell did not reach their ears. Violence begets only death. It solved nothing. She ran out in her clothes, wildly waving her hands to grab the elephants' attention. Her father's voice was behind her as she ran directly into the midst of danger with no other thought than to rescue the creatures from an ugly death. The men with the spears advanced forward. With no other method to gain the elephants attention, Olaana let out a blood curling cry. The attention she wanted was now on her. It seemed like time slowed for her as she jumped to stop a man from thrusting his spear into the underbelly of an elephant. <br/><br/>They hit the ground with a heavy thud as she tried to wrestle the spear away from him. He screamed at her in a language she could not fully comprehend, but enough was clear to know he was damning her soul. No one died on this night, but she was considered out of work. They only wanted her father's help now. It was death sentence for the animals. She was headed back to another city in the car when she heard a strange noise. Instinct lead her to stop as she headed on foot towards it. She witnessed the terrifying sight of a baby elephant caught in a trap with poachers surroundidng it. Olaana ran towards the men, not thinking of her safety. She picked up a thick branch along the way and knocked the nearest man across the head with it. They seemed so surprised by her actions that it took a while for them to react. She was shot in the shoulder. The men likely would have shot again if the sound of approaching elephants did not reach their ears. <br/><br/>From the sounds of it, there were a lot of them. So she and the baby elephant lay together in a pool of blood. Once again, time was against her, and she turned over despite her pain to fiddle with the trap. She knew it was useless since even if she managed it, the injured calf would not survive the wild. There was an audible clicking sound as the trap popped open. By then the adult elephants arrived as their young one hobbled over. She closed her eyes and prepared to be crushed under their foot. Nothing happened other than something brushing over her face then they were gone. That is when he came to her. The man from the village. <br/><br/><strong>Introduction Post:</strong> <br/><br/><em>I was destined to be a world renowned conservationist. Destined for greatness.</em><br/> <br/>The words echoed in Olaana’s mind as she stood in a shadow of pure darkness. Everything over the past few months had changed after the situation in Africa. Her father was terribly mad with her for leaving the continent completely without him. His unquenchable anger reached to the highest of ears to tarnish her reputation. If she did not work with and under him, he did not want her to be allowed on another expedition. He sought to ruin her. It worked with some people while others sent their sympathies.<br/> <br/><em>Why did you join the circus?</em><br/><br/>It was bound to be a question asked in the present and future. Her only logical explanation was the issue of the animals. Circus creatures were often breed in captivity and made to bend to the entertainment o men, women, and children with a whip. The animals were kept for a certain amount of time until the circus held no use for them. Then they were abandoned to a worse fate than death. Like in the plains of a foreign world, she could make a difference here as well. Dying did not frighten her since over the years she’d been faced with circumstances that might end her, but she knew the gratitude of those who could not speak for themselves. In the end, this was all that mattered to her. So as all the other decisions in her life, she joined the circus because of the animals needed a true leader. The animals needed a person who would see to all of their needs, both physical and mental. <br/><br/>The woman, Elizabeth, or more like child in a grown body did not please her. From her knowledge and experience, there could not be two females of power within the same area. There would always be one matriarch. Yet, like in the wild, the female leader must gain her place either through trials or being elected into the position by those around her. She, unlike some, did not judge purely on past actions, but present as well. Her first meeting with Elizabeth did not go exactly to plan due to an unforeseen circumstance. Even the animals sensed her weakness and inability lead as a true matriarch. There was no plan to become an upstart in this place since there were many unknowns, but her true loyalties would always rest with Lawrence. <br/><br/>Her head craned to the side, listening to the exchange between Lawrence and Elizabeth, as she reached upward to stroke through ebony hair. There was a familiar clicking sound, which she associated with cages. What are you doing, Lawrence? He had not told her the plan for tonight so she was to trust him. It was not a difficult task since he proved himself to her a long time ago. She knew him to be many things such their short time with each other. Friend. Companion. Lover. Yet, there was one role he could not fulfill in her life, and she would never ask it of him. Even still, the flickers of jealousy burned within her. <br/><br/>The sound of her name being called by him caused her to blink as she intentionally took a few seconds to make an appearance out of the shadows. Tension choked the air as she glanced over towards the open cages of the animals who seemed distrustful of this sudden action. Words were spoken from Lawrence on her behalf, but Olaana remained mysteriously quiet as she watched one of the felines draw closer to the entrance of the cage. My life is in the hands of an idiot. Her calm eyes shifted over to the woman without an ounce of fear, but time was not on their side. <br/><br/>“I have heard from Lawrence that you value your life and circus. Even more so, you value an essence which has been harnessed by you. I believe you will make the right choice. I would do so quickly though because the male lion is curious of those he is not familiar with. I guarantee you his inspection of us will not be painless. If you decided to allow pettiness to cloud your judgment, I have no issue with death.”<br/><br/>Elizabeth wouldn't take kindly to her words.  She'd say "The first thing that you must learn" and be interrupted by Lawrence "Is that you are nowhere near as important as the Spirit, Elizabeth.  The Spirit chooses its master.  You give it to her." Elizabeth would turn her head to the Tigers cage.  The large cats were the most dangerous, and the tiger seemed to be thinking about leaving its cage.  When the woman glanced over to the tigers, again Olaana’s calm voice spoke through the silence with the exception of growls, “It is not only those you should fear.” On the other side, the elephants were growing anxious. Patiently, she waited for the woman to place judgment on all of their lives. No doubt her fear was intoxicating to the predators. Elizabeth would stand up and bend over, and with a thin cloud of smoke she would place a bottle of spirit upon the ground. <br/><br/>The bottle was placed on the ground, and Olaana nearly took it as an insult. Was she trying to say that like the animals her belongings, meals and anything else, belonged on the ground? There was no time to exchange words. Plus, she’d had her belongings in worse areas. She walked over calmly despite the ticking clock since nothing roused a predator like a running target. Carefully, she picked up the small bottle, feelings its power course through her body, even without consuming it. Twisting the top, she drank it into herself. Into her soul. <br/><br/>“I dearly hope that he is correct about you, Olaana.  These animals are as much my family as any of my human family.  Take the spirit, and let me know that my decision wasn't a foolish one." She would of course mean that she wanted Olaana to calm the animals. Her eyes flashed at the woman’s words as she lifted one hand, and instantly the animals calmed. “We will have to see if your choice was foolish, won’t we?” Olaana gave a small bow to the woman then glance to Lawrence. She gave the woman her back since she did not fear the woman striking out at her. Not with the amount of power in her hands. Soon all of the cages were closed as the animals did not seem concerned with the humans. “Lawrence, are you ready to go?"<br/><br/><strong>Likes:</strong> Animals, hard work, nature, photography, books, writing, <br/><strong>Dislikes:</strong> arrogance, stupidity, yelling, insults</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Sochi (inactive)</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatright">(http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo62/cimsoderholm/SochiTemujin.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Sochi Temujin<br/><strong>Age:</strong> 54<br/><strong>Home State:</strong> Khentii Province, Mongolia<br/><strong>Role:</strong> The Khan (Combined horse riding, sword play and archery)<br/><strong>Place of Hierarchy:</strong> Old timer<br/><br/><strong>Hair Color:</strong> Black<br/><strong>Eye Color:</strong> Brown<br/><strong>Height:</strong> 6'6"<br/><strong>Weight:</strong> 182 lbs<br/><strong>Physical Description:</strong> Sochi is quite impressive to behold, standing a good part taller than most. His crudely chiseled face seldom show any other expression than the purely stoical. He often dress in his country's traditional clothing, even when he is not performing. His horse, Ogedei, if just as giant in proportions, which is fortunate since he carries his master's weight every day during punishing practice. Ogedei is pure white and none can remember that Sochi has ever ridden any other beast.<br/><br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong> The Circus means everything to Sochi. It is his home, his family and his eternal resting place. The traveling life style fits him well as his ancestors cheer and his ancient blood burns with a lust to never stay long in one place. He is quite and inexpressive whenever he performs as well as when he's with the others. He has been known to smile whenever he's with his horse and often speaks with it for hours on end in his native tongue. It is pretty unclear if he even speaks English at all or if he chose not to. He can often be heard in the late evenings or during the celebrations performing the traditional throat singing and playing the morin khuur. Should the circus ever be in danger, Elizabeth knows that he would die to defend it, with sword and bow if he has to.<br/><br/><strong>Brief History:</strong> Mongolia was in the clutches of the Soviet Union when Sochi was born. The Great Patriotic War had been over for years, yet his people were still reeling from the event. His family was one that lived by the old ways, as commissioned by the Party to be shown to visitors like animals in a cage. Sochi was brought up to love the freedom of the steppe and horse, but he never felt the free winds on his face. The oppressive yoke of Communist Mongolia meant he would never be free.<br/><br/>One night when he was tending to his horse, he saw strange smoke rising in the east. Gathering his possessions he rode towards it, unyielding and steadfast, but never coming any closer. He felt compelled to follow it and so he did for days, crossing the steppes and deserts, mountains and valleys, until on the fourteenth day he reached the ice-covered ocean. The smoke still lingered in the horizon as he drove the horse on, fueled only by water and a will to find out where the smoke came from. As he reached the other side he found a village, not unlike his own back home. As he approached a short elderly man came forward. They spoke not a word to each other, but for the first time in his life Sochi felt the wind of freedom on his face.<br/><br/>He lived with the Inuits for several years, helping them hunt and gather anything they needed. He learned their language and was told he was in Alaska. America, land of the free. To Sochi it sure seemed like it. The Inuits lived off the nature and walked or sleighed over the snow covered landscape. They weren't depending on the Party's rice or resources, not caged and forced to perform for corrupt politicians or blind diplomats. He was happy and content. But one night he saw the smoke once more. Again he gathered his possessions, bid farewell to the Inuits and took off east.<br/><br/>He finally arrived a year later, seeing for the first time the blinding light of civilization. He knew it not at the time, but he had traveled over Canada and arrived outside a town in northern Minnesota. He followed the smoke trail  and found that it came from a gathering of tents and wagons. As he approached a young man came forward. They spoke not a word to each other, but for the first time in his life Sochi felt truly at home.<br/><br/>Gerald found the young Mongolian exciting and over the years they worked out an act that no other circus had available. The skills and talents of an ancient people was compiled in one man and Gerald called Sochi the Khan, after the famous warlords of old. None other was as skilled with horse, sword or bow. Sochi could lead his steed in marvelous maneuvers, wring his swords in a deadly but beautiful sword-dance and hit any target with his bow and arrows. He could bend an arrow in the air to hit a target hidden behind a man, balance the tip of a sword on the tip of his nose and leap his mount clean over any obstacle, be it burning or the audience itself. He was the main attraction for years!<br/><br/>Then Elizabeth and Lawrence arrived. Sochi was an old man by then, but had never lost the sharpness of his body or mind. He was still one of the greatest acts of the circus, but he was stunned by the beauty of their act, the ferocity of it, the amount of raw excitement. Sochi never became the great act again, but to him it didn't matter. As long as the family prospered and his horse was well fed, he would be content in the knowledge that he truly lived the life according to the old ways. He had no need to pillage and conquer, for the excitement of the audience was its' own awesome treasure.<br/><br/>But the times changed. Gerald changed. He became a bitter old man, fawning for the young ambitious Elizabeth. He found himself doubting if his old friend was doing right. He realized early on that the two young acts were playing a dangerous game with the old man. He saw it all unfold as clear as a hawk spotting its prey over the open steppes. When the whole charade broke and Lawrence fled the field, the real hell begun. Sochi began giving his horse food from his own plate to keep the steed strong, but it wasn't enough. The night when his horse collapsed in the act, he realized Gerald had gone too far. No one starved a Mongolian’s horse to this state. Something had to be done!<br/><br/>Sochi waited in the rain for an hour, his bow ready. The old man arrived to his tent and lit a light. He sat down and had his fill of drinks. Sochi pulled an arrow and nocked it. He watched the shadow on the canvas, how it moved and distorted. Finally he knew where to place the shot. He drew back the shot and aimed. One through the head. Then he could take care of the body, bury it in the field under the trampled dirt of the circus ring. Let it be forgotten there, let everyone forget him. But then someone else entered the tent. Elizabeth was a fury, making sure that the passed out man never woke up again. He watched the whole spectacle through the canvas, watched her cry as the deed was done. He returned to his horse and slept by its side that night.<br/><br/>The police tried to get something out of him, but he pretended the old gaggy Mongolian, refusing to speak English. It took a while, but in the end they left him alone, one of them a soar jaw richer after he threatened to take the malnourished horse away. He stood by the others' sides when they welcomed Elizabeth back. But he gave her a hand on the shoulder and a look that said it all. He knew and supported it all the way. He would have done anything to save the family. It was his freedom.<br/><br/>Sochi still have not performed since that fateful night, but as Ogedei grew stronger he started to return to the practice field. Driven by Elizabeth's Spirit he has become even stronger and the more accurate, his horse faster and more agile, his arrows bending to the sheer force of his will. The time has come for him to ride again! It is time once more for him to conquer the audience!<br/> <br/><strong>Introduction Post:</strong> The day was done. Elizabeth had manage to return from the police, her name cleared of all guilt. She had triumphed over the wretched old man in more ways than one. She had eased a burden for the whole circus. He had spent the day tending to his beloved steed. Ogedei was weak, almost dead as a matter of fact. When the police was over to interrogate everyone, they had threatened to take the poor creature away. Sochi had flown into a rage and the circus hands had to pull him away from the arrogant officer. They had also managed to keep the police away with a mix of insults, deceptions and looks that said "get out or we'll pummel you into the dirt". Many were the young people of the circus that came to him to talk. They spoke about anything with him, poured their hearts out. Perhaps it was because he never answered them, but only listened. He was one of the "old timers", so respect was a given, but they genuinely liked him. Like some sort of weird grand father who is just there to be old and wise.<br/><br/>The sun was setting. He took care of the sick horse until it fell to sleep, then went back to his tent. He brought out his armor and weaponry. He prepared them for battle, as was the old ways, and donned them with a sense of pride emanating from his heart. As he always did before shows, he prayed to his ancestors for fortune in the coming battle. It was a show to the audience, an act to the others in the circus, but every night he performed he prepared for battle. Because it wasn't for show, or an act. It was a battle for his family and home.<br/><br/>It was almost midnight as he left the tent and crept through the camp. His eyes were narrowed and blackened with coal so that his eyes would adapt faster to the darkness. His knees were like springs, carrying his weight without a sound over the camp grounds. He slipped in to Elizabeth's tent without a noise. He approached the bed where the woman was lying. He sat down on his knees at the foot of it and crossed his swords and bow over his lap. Now he did something he had never done with anyone other than Gerald before. He whispered in a heavy accented English.<br/><br/>"I don't know if you are awake to hear this, but through the spirits of my ancestors and the honesty of my heart, I know you will understand regardless. I was there last night. I watched. But I felt the same hatred as you did and the same sorrow. Gerald was an old friend, but he wasn't a good man anymore. I had intended to shot him through the canvas of the tent. But you beat me to it..."<br/><br/>He let out a low sigh. There were tears in his eyes. The memories were difficult to conjure.<br/><br/>"When I first arrived here I had ridden Ogedei for almost two years across the steppes of Mongolia, the wastes of Kamtjatka, over the frozen waters of the Bering strait, through the beautiful landscape of Alaska and the wilderness of Canada. I arrived here and realized that I was at home. Gerald was like a brother, all of you were like little nephews and nieces. But... he changed. He changed when you and Lawrence came. I know that you wanted this, to be in control. I know you never intended for it to end this way. But Gerald had become twisted like an old tree. You had to burn it so that a new one could grow in its place..."<br/><br/>He bowed down, touching his forehead to the ground. His tears welled up and started to moisten the dirt. He drew a shivering breath before he continued.<br/><br/>"I have always listened. To you and Lawrence, Gerald and everyone else. You never thought of it, but I spoke not because I couldn't. I never spoke because no one else would listen. I know of every problem you have ever had, because I listened. I will continue to listen as long as you never do what he did. Keep our family safe and I shall forever protect it from within and without with my swords, my bow, my horse and soul. I will kill for this family. I will die for this family. And if that means I kill and die for you, so be it. You call me the Khan. Call me what you may but to me there is only one Khan. You."<br/><br/>He reached back and pulled an arrow from his quiver. Straightening up he placed it gently on the bed before rising without a sound and retreating out of the tent. He ran from the camp, out into the open field and felt the cold night air brush the tears out of his eyes. The winds of freedom blew through him and he leaped up on a post of a picket fence. He balanced on it perfectly. A low vibrating hum broke out of his throat as he began singing. The nature around him enveloped his very soul. He truly was at home. From now on he would always be at home, no matter what.<br/><br/><strong>Likes:</strong> Horses, singing, archery and swordsmanship (of course) and trying new food.<br/><strong>Dislikes:</strong> Spiders, communism and lazy people. Rather a true American for a Mongolian.<br/><br/></div></div>