{{PCSummary
|Clan=Toreador


|Coterie=


|Position=


|Status=2


|Domain=Middle Georgia


|Path=Humanity


|rating=4


|p=[mailto:wastevens@gmail.com Drew S.]

}}

__TOC__

=Overview=
[[Image:Wiki.png|thumb|[[Special:Upload|Upload]] your own picture and replace this section with your own]]
'''Real Name: '''
Thomas Heard

'''Alias(es): '''
Tommy

'''Apparent Age:''' 26

'''Concept:'''
 The degenerate of a fallen political family, who intends to enjoy himself until the end of time

'''Physical description:'''
 Thomas appears to be a white male in his middle 20s. His hair is a sandy brown with the first hints of gray at the temples, while his beard is auburn. He has blue eyes, walled behind thick glasses. When attending gather, he generally dresses in quality clothing; black pants, a red shirt, and black blazer. He is especially noted for always having a rose tucked into his jacket's vest pocket, and for his silver rose necklace.

'''Detailed Status:'''
 Acknowledged by [[Charles McMillan]], Prince of Atlanta
 Praised by Warren Oak, then Primogen in Atlanta

<h2>Character Information</h2>

==Known History==
Thomas was the second son of a once-great political family, based out of Rome, Georgia. His family has fallen on hard times in the last several years- while still prosperous and well-known, their star has passed, as a series of scandals and tragedies in the mortal world rocked them- unbeknownst, consequences of the Rebellion's activity in Georgia, disrupting the control of elders whom had more than once used the Heard family as their cats-paw. Thomas himself drifted through these tragedies, content with an easy life of living off a trust fund and his connections- culminating in a fateful meeting with Angelica Fishbourne-Rose, who Embraced Thomas, giving him an eternity to dedicate to find himself.

He has only recently returned from touring the courts of France, where he has been for the last five years. And he is totally not insufferable about name-dropping this fact.

==Allies==

Allies is such a strong word. Thomas gets along well with many Kindred, but isn't sure he would call any allies- especially not so recently after his long absence.
 [[Lilyanna Salvatore]] has at least expressed some admiration towards some of his poetry. Is that alliance? Seems a slender thread.

==Enemies==

Enemies is likewise, a tremendously strong word. Who could be bothered to find enemity with such a fop?

==Sire==

Angelica Fishbourne-Rose (NPC) - A Toreador political machinist

==Childer==

None

==Broodmates==

He's never asked, and Angelica's never told him.

==Character Inspirations==

* http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OscarWilde Oscar Wilde]
* Lady Lys (from the Lucifer comic series)
* "We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams..."
* The definition of [http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/degenerate degenerate]

==Soundtrack==

<ul>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QOt-sqiVQtI Beauty Is Within Us, by Yoko Kano]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36254Dt2ylI Popular, from Wicked]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoAPCwn7F-k Bring Me to Life, by Evanescence]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5ONCovAWTw Beatiful Thieves, by AFI]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVqKPNlxWIc The Sun Is Often Out, by Patrick Wolf]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L70Nca5MvM8 Viva La Vida, by Coldplay]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rWqQ9uwqQxk Lullaby; music by Loreena McKennitt, verse by William Blake]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wpPk8qk3uQ Pachelbel's Canon in D Major, performed by the Slovac Chamber Orchestra]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1H4TsKIjTc Mephistopheles' Return from Beethoven's Last Night, by Trans-Siberian Orchestra]
<ul><li>Really, pretty much all of Beethoven's Last Night</li></ul></li>
</ul>

==Quotes==

"What do I do? I seek to entertain myself- it can be most trying."

"Oh god, not the 'What is Art' discussion again. Lily, you have my sincerest apologies."

==Rumors==

<ul>
<li>Thomas is actually a Toreador antitribu, in league with the Rebellion.
<ul>
<li>He did return on the heels of a spike of Rebellion activity.</li>
<li>And on his first night back in Middle Georgia, he did lead the bulk of the domain to an art showing that was set up by the Rebellion.</li>
</ul>
</li>

<li>Thomas is actually a Venture infiltrator.
<ul>
<li>He's often mistaken for one, probably thanks to the jacket.</li>
<li>Also, his Sire is married to Marcus Fishbourne, a powerful Venture, who advised his Accounting.</li>
</ul>
</li>

<li>Thomas can't actually write poetry to save his life
<ul>
<li>He once tried to rhyme 'back' with 'soon'.</li>
<li>He has a ghouled poet, and presents said work as his own.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Thomas has been spreading some nasty rumors about the ineptitude of the Toreador of Savannah. [[Aaron Beckett | That his claims are accurate only make them more appealing to the ear.]]
</li>
</ul>

==Poems==

Some of the poetry written by Thomas, which he is more than happy to share.

* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Ballade of Tristan and Isolde) | The Ballade of Tristan and Isolde]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (A Ballade of Tradition) | A Ballade of Tradition]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Midnight Hunt) | Midnight Hunt]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Beat) | The Beat: A Rondelet]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Countless Nights) | Countless Nights Ago]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Robins Song) | The Robin's Song]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Loves Brief Warmth) | Love's Brief Warmth]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Carnival) | Carnival]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Hunger) | Hunger]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (City of Lights) | City of Lights]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Word of the Day) | Word of the Day]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Alone I Stand) | Alone, I Stand]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Across the Wastes) | Across the Wastes]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Not Tonight) | Not Tonight]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (I Wish For Oh So Many Things) | I Wish For Oh So Many Things]]

And poems written by others, which Thomas especially likes.

* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Ode by Arthur OShaughnessy) | Ode, by Arthur O'Shaughnessy]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti) | The Goblin Market, by Christina Rossetti]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Invictus by William Ernest Henley) | Invictus, by William Ernest Henley]]

Micha Paschar

2011-04-25T23:16:46Z

STH-003: /* Rumors */

{{PCSummary
|Clan=Malkavian


|Coterie=None


|Position=None


|Status=2


|Domain=Domain of Middle Georgia


|Path=Humanity


|rating=1


|p=[mailto:wirelesshnic@gmail.com Justin]

}}

__TOC__

=Overview=
[[Image:Wiki.png|thumb|[[Special:Upload|Upload]] your own picture and replace this section with your own]]
'''Alias(es): '''

'''Real Name: ''' Not Known

'''Apparent Age: ''' Early Thirty's

'''Concept: '''

'''Physical description:''' Micha is a a tall man in is early thirty's who other than being rarely seen without his while trench coat is fairly nondescript.

'''Detailed Status: ''' 
<h2>Character Information</h2>

==Known History==
Micha arrived in Georgia though the city of Atlanta. This was not his destination (if he had one at all), however, as he had made a fairly big deal about his 1967 corvette "being nearly totaled by some guy" who t-boned him. During his time in Atlanta, when he was not looking for mechanics who where able to restore his prized possession, he was annoying a homeless man named Zach.

Once back on the road, Micha ended up settling not to far from Atlanta in the Domain of Middle Georgia. After arriving, though, few have actually seen him at gather instead is usually around in Physic Projection. Other than that little is known about Micha's goings on except that he will occasionally pop in to provide answers to peoples questions about goings on in the domain. Other than that he seems to be preoccupied with his pet projects or crazy.

==Coterie==
Not Known

==Allies==
Not Known

==Enemies==
Not Known

==Sire==
Not Known

==Childer==
None

==Broodmates==

==Character Inspirations==

==Soundtrack==
Sarah McLachlan - Building A Mystery

Tool - Right in Two

Amy Winehouse - Rehab

==Quotes==

==Rumors==
* Micha is floaty Primogen
* 'Micha' doesn't actually exist. His spirit departed from his flesh years ago, and his body was lost. Any Kindred who claims to be Micha is, at best, a liar- and possibly an infiltrator.

Ignatius Brock

2011-04-24T23:31:36Z

STH-003: /* Rumors */

Thomas Heard Poetry (I Wish For Oh So Many Things)

2011-04-22T19:01:30Z

STH-003: Created page with 'I Wish For Oh So Many Things I wish for oh so many things To know nothing but the lovely Spring, To wear a golden wedding ring, To never know Death’s fatal …'

I Wish For Oh So Many Things

I wish for oh so many things
 To know nothing but the lovely Spring,
 To wear a golden wedding ring,
 To never know Death’s fatal sting.

But what’s the price that is paid,
 To pay for such immortal aid
 To only dance in greenest glade
 To ever still Death’s fatal blade?

The cost, I’m sure, is not too much,
 To never know of Spring as such,
 To never know a lover’s touch,
 To never feel Death’s fatal clutch.

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (Not Tonight)

2011-04-22T19:00:23Z

STH-003: Created page with 'Not Tonight Troubled I lay aside my book And uneasy rise from rest. Secrets heavy in my chest. My spirit held on tender-hook I pace the room as firm hands…'

Not Tonight

Troubled I lay aside my book
 And uneasy rise from rest.
 Secrets heavy in my chest.
 My spirit held on tender-hook
 I pace the room as firm hands shook
 As thoughts unclean began to nest
 To sing my fall, like man possessed,
 With discord song like filthy rooks.

I shut my ears against these calls
 Breath short and sharp until they fade
 They vanish with the breaking day.
 Only then, rebuild my walls
 And reweave composure frayed
 Not tonight, my self betray.

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (Across the Wastes)

2011-04-22T18:58:54Z

STH-003: Created page with 'Across the wastes Across the wastes, I walk in chains, Pulled at both hand and feet Fainting in the endless heat My limbs are bound as puppet’s reins. I gl…'

Across the wastes

Across the wastes, I walk in chains,
 Pulled at both hand and feet
 Fainting in the endless heat
 My limbs are bound as puppet’s reins.

I glance ahead, and see the line
 Of those who’s fate I share
 And well note the golden chains they wear
 Bound as kin, all affine.

I stop and give my chains a jerk
 Behind, children strive to keep pace
 For in this endless lineal race
 All are bound, so none may shirk.

Our destination is unknown
 Our leadership, a mystery
 But tied are we by blood and history
 We each must walk, bound and alone.

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (Alone I Stand)

2011-04-22T18:57:09Z

STH-003: Created page with 'Alone, I Stand I sit admist the empty night And listen to the empty wind. No moonlight shines that could offend. No shadows cast by faint starlight. One by o…'

Alone, I Stand

I sit admist the empty night
 And listen to the empty wind.
 No moonlight shines that could offend.
 No shadows cast by faint starlight.

One by one, they guttered out
 And silent downward drifts the snow.
 As passed the years they left no doubt
 That there are countless years to go.

All passed now, the race of man
 Earth still as when first began
 Cities sleep and wake no more
 Long since gone the works of yore.

Can you count the grains of sand
 That gather at the shore?
 I’ve a day to count each one
 My years are longer than the sun
 Endless time which to explore
 And in the end, alone, I stand.

This poem was inspired by conversation with the Revered [[David Blanchett]].
 Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (Invictus by William Ernest Henley)

2011-04-22T18:52:28Z

STH-003: Created page with 'Invictus, William Ernest Henley OUT of the night that covers me,   Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be  &nbs…'

Invictus, William Ernest Henley

OUT of the night that covers me,
   Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
 I thank whatever gods may be
   For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
   I have not winced nor cried aloud.
 Under the bludgeonings of chance
   My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
   Looms but the Horror of the shade,
 And yet the menace of the years
   Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
   How charged with punishments the scroll,
 I am the master of my fate:
   I am the captain of my soul.

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard

2011-04-22T18:50:41Z

STH-003: /* Poems */

{{PCSummary
|Clan=Toreador


|Coterie=


|Position=


|Status=2


|Domain=Middle Georgia


|Path=Humanity


|rating=4


|p=[mailto:wastevens@gmail.com Drew S.]

}}

__TOC__

=Overview=
[[Image:Wiki.png|thumb|[[Special:Upload|Upload]] your own picture and replace this section with your own]]
'''Real Name: '''
Thomas Heard

'''Alias(es): '''
Tommy

'''Apparent Age:''' 26

'''Concept:'''
 The degenerate of a fallen political family, who intends to enjoy himself until the end of time

'''Physical description:'''
 Thomas appears to be a white male in his middle 20s. His hair is a sandy brown with the first hints of gray at the temples, while his beard is auburn. He has blue eyes, walled behind thick glasses. When attending gather, he generally dresses in quality clothing; black pants, a red shirt, and black blazer. He is especially noted for always having a rose tucked into his jacket's vest pocket, and for his silver rose necklace.

'''Detailed Status:'''
 Acknowledged by [[Charles McMillan]], Prince of Atlanta
 Praised by Warren Oak, then Primogen in Atlanta

<h2>Character Information</h2>

==Known History==
Thomas was the second son of a once-great political family, based out of Rome, Georgia. His family has fallen on hard times in the last several years- while still prosperous and well-known, their star has passed, as a series of scandals and tragedies in the mortal world rocked them- unbeknownst, consequences of the Rebellion's activity in Georgia, disrupting the control of elders whom had more than once used the Heard family as their cats-paw. Thomas himself drifted through these tragedies, content with an easy life of living off a trust fund and his connections- culminating in a fateful meeting with Angelica Fishbourne-Rose, who Embraced Thomas, giving him an eternity to dedicate to find himself.

He has only recently returned from touring the courts of France, where he has been for the last five years. And he is totally not insufferable about name-dropping this fact.

==Allies==

Allies is such a strong word. Thomas gets along well with many Kindred, but isn't sure he would call any allies- especially not so recently after his long absence.
 [[Lilyanna Salvatore]] has at least expressed some admiration towards some of his poetry. Is that alliance? Seems a slender thread.

==Enemies==

Enemies is likewise, a tremendously strong word. Who could be bothered to find enemity with such a fop?

==Sire==

Angelica Fishbourne-Rose (NPC) - A Toreador political machinist

==Childer==

None

==Broodmates==

He's never asked, and Angelica's never told him.

==Character Inspirations==

* Oscar Wilde
* Lady Lys (from the Lucifer comic series)
* "We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams..."
* The definition of degenerate

==Soundtrack==

<ul>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QOt-sqiVQtI Beauty Is Within Us, by Yoko Kano]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36254Dt2ylI Popular, from Wicked]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoAPCwn7F-k Bring Me to Life, by Evanescence]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5ONCovAWTw Beatiful Thieves, by AFI]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVqKPNlxWIc The Sun Is Often Out, by Patrick Wolf]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L70Nca5MvM8 Viva La Vida, by Coldplay]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rWqQ9uwqQxk Lullaby; music by Loreena McKennitt, verse by William Blake]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wpPk8qk3uQ Pachelbel's Canon in D Major, performed by the Slovac Chamber Orchestra]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1H4TsKIjTc Mephistopheles' Return from Beethoven's Last Night, by Trans-Siberian Orchestra]
<ul><li>Really, pretty much all of Beethoven's Last Night</li></ul></li>
</ul>

==Quotes==

"What do I do? I seek to entertain myself- it can be most trying."

"Oh god, not the 'What is Art' discussion again. Lily, you have my sincerest apologies."

==Rumors==

<ul>
<li>Thomas is actually a Toreador antitribu, in league with the Rebellion.
<ul>
<li>He did return on the heels of a spike of Rebellion activity.</li>
<li>And on his first night back in Middle Georgia, he did lead the bulk of the domain to an art showing that was set up by the Rebellion.</li>
</ul>
</li>

<li>Thomas is actually a Venture infiltrator.
<ul>
<li>He's often mistaken for one, probably thanks to the jacket.</li>
<li>Also, his Sire is married to Marcus Fishbourne, a powerful Venture, who advised his Accounting.</li>
</ul>
</li>

<li>Thomas can't actually write poetry to save his life
<ul>
<li>He once tried to rhyme 'back' with 'soon'.</li>
<li>He has a ghouled poet, and presents said work as his own.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Thomas has been spreading some nasty rumors about the ineptitude of the Toreador of Savannah. [[Aaron Beckett | That his claims are accurate only make them more appealing to the ear.]]
</li>
</ul>

==Poems==

Some of the poetry written by Thomas, which he is more than happy to share.

* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Ballade of Tristan and Isolde) | The Ballade of Tristan and Isolde]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (A Ballade of Tradition) | A Ballade of Tradition]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Midnight Hunt) | Midnight Hunt]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Beat) | The Beat: A Rondelet]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Countless Nights) | Countless Nights Ago]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Robins Song) | The Robin's Song]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Loves Brief Warmth) | Love's Brief Warmth]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Carnival) | Carnival]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Hunger) | Hunger]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (City of Lights) | City of Lights]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Word of the Day) | Word of the Day]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Alone I Stand) | Alone, I Stand]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Across the Wastes) | Across the Wastes]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Not Tonight) | Not Tonight]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (I Wish For Oh So Many Things) | I Wish For Oh So Many Things]]

And poems written by others, which Thomas especially likes.

* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Ode by Arthur OShaughnessy) | Ode, by Arthur O'Shaughnessy]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti) | The Goblin Market, by Christina Rossetti]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Invictus by William Ernest Henley) | Invictus, by William Ernest Henley]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (Hunger)

2011-04-21T18:58:22Z

STH-003:

Hunger

A hunger like fire burns from inside 
While in my veins, my blood is ice 
I fear that this beast will not be denied

Vermillion waves come in like a tide 
Drowning me in inhuman vice 
A hunger like fire burns from inside

With deep sullen growl, glowing, red-eyed 
This hunger felt lets known it's price 
I fear that this beast will not be denied

Enslaved to this passion, fuel I provide 
Gainst wish to be controlled, precise 
A hunger like fire burns from inside

Vainly labored, and helplessly vied 
Strive to follow elder's advice 
I fear that this beast will not be denied

All fast fleeting, reason subsides 
The Man is gone, lost in a trice 
A hunger like fire burns from inside 
I fear that this beast will not be denied

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard

2011-04-21T15:48:40Z

STH-003: /* Rumors */

{{PCSummary
|Clan=Toreador


|Coterie=


|Position=


|Status=2


|Domain=Middle Georgia


|Path=Humanity


|rating=4


|p=[mailto:wastevens@gmail.com Drew S.]

}}

__TOC__

=Overview=
[[Image:Wiki.png|thumb|[[Special:Upload|Upload]] your own picture and replace this section with your own]]
'''Real Name: '''
Thomas Heard

'''Alias(es): '''
Tommy

'''Apparent Age:''' 26

'''Concept:'''
 The degenerate of a fallen political family, who intends to enjoy himself until the end of time

'''Physical description:'''
 Thomas appears to be a white male in his middle 20s. His hair is a sandy brown with the first hints of gray at the temples, while his beard is auburn. He has blue eyes, walled behind thick glasses. When attending gather, he generally dresses in quality clothing; black pants, a red shirt, and black blazer. He is especially noted for always having a rose tucked into his jacket's vest pocket, and for his silver rose necklace.

'''Detailed Status:'''
 Acknowledged by [[Charles McMillan]], Prince of Atlanta
 Praised by Warren Oak, then Primogen in Atlanta

<h2>Character Information</h2>

==Known History==
Thomas was the second son of a once-great political family, based out of Rome, Georgia. His family has fallen on hard times in the last several years- while still prosperous and well-known, their star has passed, as a series of scandals and tragedies in the mortal world rocked them- unbeknownst, consequences of the Rebellion's activity in Georgia, disrupting the control of elders whom had more than once used the Heard family as their cats-paw. Thomas himself drifted through these tragedies, content with an easy life of living off a trust fund and his connections- culminating in a fateful meeting with Angelica Fishbourne-Rose, who Embraced Thomas, giving him an eternity to dedicate to find himself.

He has only recently returned from touring the courts of France, where he has been for the last five years. And he is totally not insufferable about name-dropping this fact.

==Allies==

Allies is such a strong word. Thomas gets along well with many Kindred, but isn't sure he would call any allies- especially not so recently after his long absence.
 [[Lilyanna Salvatore]] has at least expressed some admiration towards some of his poetry. Is that alliance? Seems a slender thread.

==Enemies==

Enemies is likewise, a tremendously strong word. Who could be bothered to find enemity with such a fop?

==Sire==

Angelica Fishbourne-Rose (NPC) - A Toreador political machinist

==Childer==

None

==Broodmates==

He's never asked, and Angelica's never told him.

==Character Inspirations==

* Oscar Wilde
* Lady Lys (from the Lucifer comic series)
* "We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams..."
* The definition of degenerate

==Soundtrack==

<ul>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QOt-sqiVQtI Beauty Is Within Us, by Yoko Kano]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36254Dt2ylI Popular, from Wicked]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoAPCwn7F-k Bring Me to Life, by Evanescence]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5ONCovAWTw Beatiful Thieves, by AFI]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVqKPNlxWIc The Sun Is Often Out, by Patrick Wolf]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L70Nca5MvM8 Viva La Vida, by Coldplay]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rWqQ9uwqQxk Lullaby; music by Loreena McKennitt, verse by William Blake]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wpPk8qk3uQ Pachelbel's Canon in D Major, performed by the Slovac Chamber Orchestra]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1H4TsKIjTc Mephistopheles' Return from Beethoven's Last Night, by Trans-Siberian Orchestra]
<ul><li>Really, pretty much all of Beethoven's Last Night</li></ul></li>
</ul>

==Quotes==

"What do I do? I seek to entertain myself- it can be most trying."

"Oh god, not the 'What is Art' discussion again. Lily, you have my sincerest apologies."

==Rumors==

<ul>
<li>Thomas is actually a Toreador antitribu, in league with the Rebellion.
<ul>
<li>He did return on the heels of a spike of Rebellion activity.</li>
<li>And on his first night back in Middle Georgia, he did lead the bulk of the domain to an art showing that was set up by the Rebellion.</li>
</ul>
</li>

<li>Thomas is actually a Venture infiltrator.
<ul>
<li>He's often mistaken for one, probably thanks to the jacket.</li>
<li>Also, his Sire is married to Marcus Fishbourne, a powerful Venture, who advised his Accounting.</li>
</ul>
</li>

<li>Thomas can't actually write poetry to save his life
<ul>
<li>He once tried to rhyme 'back' with 'soon'.</li>
<li>He has a ghouled poet, and presents said work as his own.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Thomas has been spreading some nasty rumors about the ineptitude of the Toreador of Savannah. [[Aaron Beckett | That his claims are accurate only make them more appealing to the ear.]]
</li>
</ul>

==Poems==

Some of the poetry written by Thomas, which he is more than happy to share.

* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Ballade of Tristan and Isolde) | The Ballade of Tristan and Isolde]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (A Ballade of Tradition) | A Ballade of Tradition]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Midnight Hunt) | Midnight Hunt]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Beat) | The Beat: A Rondelet]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Countless Nights) | Countless Nights Ago]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Robins Song) | The Robin's Song]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Loves Brief Warmth) | Love's Brief Warmth]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Carnival) | Carnival]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Hunger) | Hunger]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (City of Lights) | City of Lights]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Word of the Day) | Word of the Day]]

And poems written by others, which Thomas especially likes.

* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Ode by Arthur OShaughnessy) | Ode, by Arthur O'Shaughnessy]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti) | The Goblin Market, by Christina Rossetti]]

Aaron Beckett

2011-04-21T15:44:40Z

STH-003: /* Rumors */

Aaron Beckett

2011-04-21T15:38:18Z

STH-003: /* Rumors */

Thomas Heard Poetry (Word of the Day)

2011-04-19T01:57:51Z

STH-003:

Word of the Day

‘Eschew obfuscation’, my teachers once said 
‘Use not canorous; say lovely instead’ 
But I’m ever obstinate, and so must insist 
that discourse loquacious forever persist.

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

(OOC True story: I'd decided to try practicing my poetry by incorporating dictionary.com's word of the day into one poem a day. The second day of this, the word of the day was praxis. I gave up at that.)

Thomas Heard Poetry (Word of the Day)

2011-04-19T01:57:43Z

STH-003: Created page with 'Word of the Day ‘Eschew obfuscation’, my teachers once said ‘Use not canorous; say lovely instead’ But I’m ever obstinate, and so must insist that di…'

Word of the Day
‘Eschew obfuscation’, my teachers once said 
‘Use not canorous; say lovely instead’ 
But I’m ever obstinate, and so must insist 
that discourse loquacious forever persist.

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

(OOC True story: I'd decided to try practicing my poetry by incorporating dictionary.com's word of the day into one poem a day. The second day of this, the word of the day was praxis. I gave up at that.)

Thomas Heard Poetry (City of Lights)

2011-04-19T01:55:54Z

STH-003:

City of Lights

Shining city of lighted fame: 
Minstrel of immortal song, 
Sculpture whom can do no wrong, 
Painter, artist: All these you claim. 
But more; for you are the muses' flame 
The guide of Man against the throng 
Seer who's vision doth prolong 
Master's work and master's name.

But all consumed by war are we 
In wilderness, so far from grace 
Like storm tossed souls in churning sea 
Clinging for life, we hug debris 
To your light, we turn our face 
And pray your grace will set us free.

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (City of Lights)

2011-04-19T01:55:20Z

STH-003: Created page with 'City of Lights Shining city of lighted fame: Minstrel of immortal song, Sculpture whom can do no wrong, Painter, artist: All these you claim. But more; for you are the mu…'

City of Lights

Shining city of lighted fame:
Minstrel of immortal song,
Sculpture whom can do no wrong,
Painter, artist: All these you claim.
But more; for you are the muses' flame
The guide of Man against the throng
Seer who's vision doth prolong
Master's work and master's name.

But all consumed by war are we
In wilderness, so far from grace
Like storm tossed souls in churning sea
Clinging for life, we hug debris
To your light, we turn our face
And pray your grace will set us free.

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (Hunger)

2011-04-19T01:54:41Z

STH-003: Created page with 'Carnival I sit astride electric steed, Lost in carousel whirling. Rides and dust, playing, frenzied The sun so bright and blinding. Now I walk these well worn lanes Where once I …'

Carnival
I sit astride electric steed,
Lost in carousel whirling.
Rides and dust, playing, frenzied
The sun so bright and blinding.
Now I walk these well worn lanes
Where once I ran in younger days
Of joyous song, nothing remains,
Desp’rate carnies and rides decayed.
But comes a child, face full and bright
Laughter riding with them
Smiling, I turn back to my night
Unwilling to my past condemn.
In nights of trouble, strife and grief
Savor joy, like youth, too brief.

Hunger

A hunger like fire burns from inside 
While in my veins, my blood is ice 
I fear that this beast will not be denied

Vermillion waves come in like a tide 
Drowning me in inhuman vice 
A hunger like fire burns from inside

With deep sullen growl, glowing, red-eyed 
This hunger felt lets known it's price 
I fear that this beast will not be denied

Enslaved to this passion, fuel I provide 
Gainst wish to be controlled, precise 
A hunger like fire burns from inside

Vainly labored, and helplessly vied 
Strive to follow elder's advice 
I fear that this beast will not be denied

All fast fleeting, reason subsides 
The Man is gone, lost in a trice 
A hunger like fire burns from inside 
I fear that this beast will not be denied

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (Loves Brief Warmth)

2011-04-19T01:53:40Z

STH-003: Created page with 'Love’s Brief Warmth Forever locked by chains of ice And shadowed walls unseen; With tragic end foreknown, foreseen. I would pursue gainst all advice- 'W…'

Love’s Brief Warmth

Forever locked by chains of ice 
And shadowed walls unseen; 
With tragic end foreknown, foreseen. 
I would pursue gainst all advice- 
'We've felt those pangs, not worth the price 
Not for eyes of forest green, 
Nor for laughter wicked, keen.' 
I'll take my chance, and roll the dice.

Kindle flame til ice doth melt 
And light is cast that shadows fade; 
Then suffer from that strife foretold 
Of open heart and brief love felt 
Ere time and chance and loved decayed, 
Lock heart away in chains so cold.

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (Carnival)

2011-04-19T01:52:33Z

STH-003: Created page with 'Carnival I sit astride electric steed, Lost in carousel whirling. Rides and dust, playing, frenzied The sun so bright and blinding. Now I walk these well …'

Carnival

I sit astride electric steed, 
Lost in carousel whirling. 
Rides and dust, playing, frenzied 
The sun so bright and blinding. 
Now I walk these well worn lanes 
Where once I ran in younger days 
Of joyous song, nothing remains, 
Desp’rate carnies and rides decayed. 
But comes a child, face full and bright 
Laughter riding with them 
Smiling, I turn back to my night 
Unwilling to my past condemn. 
In nights of trouble, strife and grief 
Savor joy, like youth, too brief.

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (The Robins Song)

2011-04-19T01:51:50Z

STH-003: Created page with 'The Robin's Song Have you heard the robin sing, The brilliant herald of the Spring! Roses bloom in robin's wake As heavy jackets, at last forsak'd! Gone f…'

The Robin's Song

Have you heard the robin sing, 
The brilliant herald of the Spring! 
Roses bloom in robin's wake 
As heavy jackets, at last forsak'd! 
Gone for now is winter snow.

Have you heard the robin's song, 
That cry I've missed all winter long! 
Gardens rich with fragrant bloom 
Fairer aspect now we assume. 
Forgotten now is winter snow.

Did you hear when robin's sang, 
In summer gone, the cry that rang 
Through the valleys of the night 
Beneath the harvest moon so bright, 
Soon come again is winter snow.

So long ago, when robin sung, 
Now winter’s come and stilled her tongue 
Through ice and sleet which doth conspire 
Through winter storms, like bleakest choir. 
Here again is winter snow.

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (Countless Nights)

2011-04-19T01:50:57Z

STH-003: Created page with 'Countless Nights Ago Countless nights ago When elders young first walked these shores Countless nights ago As each echo doth underscore Across the endless…'

Countless Nights Ago

Countless nights ago 
When elders young first walked these shores 
Countless nights ago 
As each echo doth underscore 
Across the endless year’s sorrow 
And youth, self-wise, too oft ignore 
Countless nights ago

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (The Beat)

2011-04-19T01:50:03Z

STH-003: Created page with 'The Beat: A Rondelet On pounds the beat! In dancing club, with strobing light, On pounds the beat! In empty homes, in humid streets, In rose gardens benea…'

The Beat: A Rondelet

On pounds the beat! 
In dancing club, with strobing light, 
On pounds the beat! 
In empty homes, in humid streets, 
In rose gardens beneath moon bright, 
Ever rushed to vain delight, 
On pounds the beat!

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (A Ballade of Tradition)

2011-04-19T01:49:02Z

STH-003:

A Ballade of Tradition

Dancing a waltz, dancers concealed 
Through a room of blind-deaf-mutes 
To whom dancers must not reveal 
Full as they taste of crimson fruit 
And touch their strings to solve disputes 
Alliance new each night begun 
Taking freely of tributes- 
And never more to touch the sun.

As city spreads like starry night 
With sleepless rush and manic beat 
Once a fief o'erseen by knight 
Governed best by wise elite 
Keeping ever safe each street 
Most from hungers better shunned 
All feeling for city's heartbeat- 
And never more to feel the sun.

Soft pull the veil from child's eyes 
Escort them to the dance 
Keep them close to best advise 
Lest error fall, by sad mischance, 
And they mistake some sirin's glance, 
And caught, like deer in light frozen 
To follow thence, all time entranced 
And never more to miss the sun.

And then comes pain, all cost doubled 
Heavy falls the master’s lash. 
And thus is blameless sire troubled 
For crimes severe of child rash. 
And all saved in secret cache 
Until the student’s time is done 
They’ll suffer twice from teacher’s gnash. 
And never suffering the sun.

A guest arrives, like storm-tossed soul 
Thrown naked to the shore. 
Eager they to pay the toll 
To enter through the gate-kept door 
And rightful status to restore- 
Lest turned away, unwelcome, shun 
Those pests we all abhor 
And never welcoming the sun.

And this, the first and final law: 
Not for foe, not for friend 
Not for I to judge the cause 
Save when called to final end 
Then we all the hunt attend 
Just punishment, never undone 
And blood extract, the price of sin 
Then leave to them the cleansing sun

Ah Prince, with heavy crown on brow 
Who guards us each with due caution 
As all here gather deeply bow- 
Never more to see the sun.

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (A Ballade of Tradition)

2011-04-19T01:48:34Z

STH-003: Created page with 'A Ballade of Tradition Dancing a waltz, dancers concealed Through a room of blind-deaf-mutes To whom dancers must not reveal Full as they taste of crimson fru…'

Thomas Heard

2011-04-19T01:46:56Z

STH-003: /* Poems */

{{PCSummary
|Clan=Toreador


|Coterie=


|Position=


|Status=2


|Domain=Middle Georgia


|Path=Humanity


|rating=4


|p=[mailto:wastevens@gmail.com Drew S.]

}}

__TOC__

=Overview=
[[Image:Wiki.png|thumb|[[Special:Upload|Upload]] your own picture and replace this section with your own]]
'''Real Name: '''
Thomas Heard

'''Alias(es): '''
Tommy

'''Apparent Age:''' 26

'''Concept:'''
 The degenerate of a fallen political family, who intends to enjoy himself until the end of time

'''Physical description:'''
 Thomas appears to be a white male in his middle 20s. His hair is a sandy brown with the first hints of gray at the temples, while his beard is auburn. He has blue eyes, walled behind thick glasses. When attending gather, he generally dresses in quality clothing; black pants, a red shirt, and black blazer. He is especially noted for always having a rose tucked into his jacket's vest pocket, and for his silver rose necklace.

'''Detailed Status:'''
 Acknowledged by [[Charles McMillan]], Prince of Atlanta
 Praised by Warren Oak, then Primogen in Atlanta

<h2>Character Information</h2>

==Known History==
Thomas was the second son of a once-great political family, based out of Rome, Georgia. His family has fallen on hard times in the last several years- while still prosperous and well-known, their star has passed, as a series of scandals and tragedies in the mortal world rocked them- unbeknownst, consequences of the Rebellion's activity in Georgia, disrupting the control of elders whom had more than once used the Heard family as their cats-paw. Thomas himself drifted through these tragedies, content with an easy life of living off a trust fund and his connections- culminating in a fateful meeting with Angelica Fishbourne-Rose, who Embraced Thomas, giving him an eternity to dedicate to find himself.

He has only recently returned from touring the courts of France, where he has been for the last five years. And he is totally not insufferable about name-dropping this fact.

==Allies==

Allies is such a strong word. Thomas gets along well with many Kindred, but isn't sure he would call any allies- especially not so recently after his long absence.
 [[Lilyanna Salvatore]] has at least expressed some admiration towards some of his poetry. Is that alliance? Seems a slender thread.

==Enemies==

Enemies is likewise, a tremendously strong word. Who could be bothered to find enemity with such a fop?

==Sire==

Angelica Fishbourne-Rose (NPC) - A Toreador political machinist

==Childer==

None

==Broodmates==

He's never asked, and Angelica's never told him.

==Character Inspirations==

* Oscar Wilde
* Lady Lys (from the Lucifer comic series)
* "We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams..."
* The definition of degenerate

==Soundtrack==

<ul>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QOt-sqiVQtI Beauty Is Within Us, by Yoko Kano]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36254Dt2ylI Popular, from Wicked]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoAPCwn7F-k Bring Me to Life, by Evanescence]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5ONCovAWTw Beatiful Thieves, by AFI]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVqKPNlxWIc The Sun Is Often Out, by Patrick Wolf]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L70Nca5MvM8 Viva La Vida, by Coldplay]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rWqQ9uwqQxk Lullaby; music by Loreena McKennitt, verse by William Blake]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wpPk8qk3uQ Pachelbel's Canon in D Major, performed by the Slovac Chamber Orchestra]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1H4TsKIjTc Mephistopheles' Return from Beethoven's Last Night, by Trans-Siberian Orchestra]
<ul><li>Really, pretty much all of Beethoven's Last Night</li></ul></li>
</ul>

==Quotes==

"What do I do? I seek to entertain myself- it can be most trying."

"Oh god, not the 'What is Art' discussion again. Lily, you have my sincerest apologies."

==Rumors==

<ul>
<li>Thomas is actually a Toreador antitribu, in league with the Rebellion.
<ul>
<li>He did return on the heels of a spike of Rebellion activity.</li>
<li>And on his first night back in Middle Georgia, he did lead the bulk of the domain to an art showing that was set up by the Rebellion.</li>
</ul>
</li>

<li>Thomas is actually a Venture infiltrator.
<ul>
<li>He's often mistaken for one, probably thanks to the jacket.</li>
<li>Also, his Sire is married to Marcus Fishbourne, a powerful Venture, who advised his Accounting.</li>
</ul>
</li>

<li>Thomas can't actually write poetry to save his life
<ul>
<li>He once tried to rhyme 'back' with 'soon'.</li>
<li>He has a ghouled poet, and presents said work as his own.</li>
</ul>
</li>
</ul>

==Poems==

Some of the poetry written by Thomas, which he is more than happy to share.

* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Ballade of Tristan and Isolde) | The Ballade of Tristan and Isolde]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (A Ballade of Tradition) | A Ballade of Tradition]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Midnight Hunt) | Midnight Hunt]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Beat) | The Beat: A Rondelet]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Countless Nights) | Countless Nights Ago]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Robins Song) | The Robin's Song]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Loves Brief Warmth) | Love's Brief Warmth]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Carnival) | Carnival]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Hunger) | Hunger]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (City of Lights) | City of Lights]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Word of the Day) | Word of the Day]]

And poems written by others, which Thomas especially likes.

* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Ode by Arthur OShaughnessy) | Ode, by Arthur O'Shaughnessy]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti) | The Goblin Market, by Christina Rossetti]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (The Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti)

2011-04-19T01:25:43Z

STH-003:

The Goblin Market, by Christina Rossetti

MORNING and evening
 Maids heard the goblins cry:
 "Come buy our orchard fruits,
 Come buy, come buy:
 Apples and quinces,
 Lemons and oranges,
 Plump unpecked cherries-
 Melons and raspberries,
 Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
 Swart-headed mulberries,
 Wild free-born cranberries,
 Crab-apples, dewberries,
 Pine-apples, blackberries,
 Apricots, strawberries--
 All ripe together
 In summer weather--
 Morns that pass by,
 Fair eves that fly;
 Come buy, come buy;
 Our grapes fresh from the vine,
 Pomegranates full and fine,
 Dates and sharp bullaces,
 Rare pears and greengages,
 Damsons and bilberries,
 Taste them and try:
 Currants and gooseberries,
 Bright-fire-like barberries,
 Figs to fill your mouth,
 Citrons from the South,
 Sweet to tongue and sound to eye,
 Come buy, come buy."

Evening by evening
 Among the brookside rushes,
 Laura bowed her head to hear,
 Lizzie veiled her blushes:
 Crouching close together
 In the cooling weather,
 With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
 With tingling cheeks and finger-tips.
 "Lie close," Laura said,
 Pricking up her golden head:
 We must not look at goblin men,
 We must not buy their fruits:
 Who knows upon what soil they fed
 Their hungry thirsty roots?"
 "Come buy," call the goblins
 Hobbling down the glen.
 "O! cried Lizzie, Laura, Laura,
 You should not peep at goblin men."
 Lizzie covered up her eyes
 Covered close lest they should look;
 Laura reared her glossy head,
 And whispered like the restless brook:
 "Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,
 Down the glen tramp little men.
 One hauls a basket,
 One bears a plate,
 One lugs a golden dish
 Of many pounds' weight.
 How fair the vine must grow
 Whose grapes are so luscious;
 How warm the wind must blow
 Through those fruit bushes."
 "No," said Lizzie, "no, no, no;
 Their offers should not charm us,
 Their evil gifts would harm us."
 She thrust a dimpled finger
 In each ear, shut eyes and ran:
 Curious Laura chose to linger
 Wondering at each merchant man.
 One had a cat's face,
 One whisked a tail,
 One tramped at a rat's pace,
 One crawled like a snail,
 One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry,
 One like a ratel tumbled hurry-scurry.
 Lizzie heard a voice like voice of doves
 Cooing all together:
 They sounded kind and full of loves
 In the pleasant weather.

Laura stretched her gleaming neck
 Like a rush-imbedded swan,
 Like a lily from the beck,
 Like a moonlit poplar branch,
 Like a vessel at the launch
 When its last restraint is gone.

Backwards up the mossy glen
 Turned and trooped the goblin men,
 With their shrill repeated cry,
 "Come buy, come buy."
 When they reached where Laura was
 They stood stock still upon the moss,
 Leering at each other,
 Brother with queer brother;
 Signalling each other,
 Brother with sly brother.
 One set his basket down,
 One reared his plate;
 One began to weave a crown
 Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown
 (Men sell not such in any town);
 One heaved the golden weight
 Of dish and fruit to offer her:
 "Come buy, come buy," was still their cry.
 Laura stared but did not stir,
 Longed but had no money:
 The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste
 In tones as smooth as honey,
 The cat-faced purr'd,
 The rat-paced spoke a word
 Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;
 One parrot-voiced and jolly
 Cried "Pretty Goblin" still for "Pretty Polly";
 One whistled like a bird.

But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:
 "Good folk, I have no coin;
 To take were to purloin:
 I have no copper in my purse,
 I have no silver either,
 And all my gold is on the furze
 That shakes in windy weather
 Above the rusty heather."
 "You have much gold upon your head,"
 They answered altogether:
 "Buy from us with a golden curl."
 She clipped a precious golden lock,
 She dropped a tear more rare than pearl,
 Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red:
 Sweeter than honey from the rock,
 Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,
 Clearer than water flowed that juice;
 She never tasted such before,
 How should it cloy with length of use?
 She sucked and sucked and sucked the more
 Fruits which that unknown orchard bore,
 She sucked until her lips were sore;
 Then flung the emptied rinds away,
 But gathered up one kernel stone,
 And knew not was it night or day
 As she turned home alone.

Lizzie met her at the gate
 Full of wise upbraidings:
 "Dear, you should not stay so late,
 Twilight is not good for maidens;
 Should not loiter in the glen
 In the haunts of goblin men.
 Do you not remember Jeanie,
 How she met them in the moonlight,
 Took their gifts both choice and many,
 Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
 Plucked from bowers
 Where summer ripens at all hours?
 But ever in the moonlight
 She pined and pined away;
 Sought them by night and day,
 Found them no more, but dwindled and grew gray;
 Then fell with the first snow,
 While to this day no grass will grow
 Where she lies low:
 I planted daisies there a year ago
 That never blow.
 You should not loiter so."
 "Nay hush," said Laura.
 "Nay hush, my sister:
 I ate and ate my fill,
 Yet my mouth waters still;
 To-morrow night I will
 Buy more," and kissed her.
 "Have done with sorrow;
 I'll bring you plums to-morrow
 Fresh on their mother twigs,
 Cherries worth getting;
 You cannot think what figs
 My teeth have met in,
 What melons, icy-cold
 Piled on a dish of gold
 Too huge for me to hold,
 What peaches with a velvet nap,
 Pellucid grapes without one seed:
 Odorous indeed must be the mead
 Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink,
 With lilies at the brink,
 And sugar-sweet their sap."

Golden head by golden head,
 Like two pigeons in one nest
 Folded in each other's wings,
 They lay down, in their curtained bed:
 Like two blossoms on one stem,
 Like two flakes of new-fallen snow,
 Like two wands of ivory
 Tipped with gold for awful kings.
 Moon and stars beamed in at them,
 Wind sang to them lullaby,
 Lumbering owls forbore to fly,
 Not a bat flapped to and fro
 Round their rest:
 Cheek to cheek and breast to breast
 Locked together in one nest.

Early in the morning
 When the first cock crowed his warning,
 Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,
 Laura rose with Lizzie:
 Fetched in honey, milked the cows,
 Aired and set to rights the house,
 Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,
 Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,
 Next churned butter, whipped up cream,
 Fed their poultry, sat and sewed;
 Talked as modest maidens should
 Lizzie with an open heart,
 Laura in an absent dream,
 One content, one sick in part;
 One warbling for the mere bright day's delight,
 One longing for the night.

At length slow evening came--
 They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;
 Lizzie most placid in her look,
 Laura most like a leaping flame.
 They drew the gurgling water from its deep
 Lizzie plucked purple and rich golden flags,
 Then turning homeward said: "The sunset flushes
 Those furthest loftiest crags;
 Come, Laura, not another maiden lags,
 No wilful squirrel wags,
 The beasts and birds are fast asleep."
 But Laura loitered still among the rushes
 And said the bank was steep.

And said the hour was early still,
 The dew not fallen, the wind not chill:
 Listening ever, but not catching
 The customary cry,
 "Come buy, come buy,"
 With its iterated jingle
 Of sugar-baited words:
 Not for all her watching
 Once discerning even one goblin
 Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;
 Let alone the herds
 That used to tramp along the glen,
 In groups or single,
 Of brisk fruit-merchant men.

Till Lizzie urged, "O Laura, come,
 I hear the fruit-call, but I dare not look:
 You should not loiter longer at this brook:
 Come with me home.
 The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,
 Each glow-worm winks her spark,
 Let us get home before the night grows dark;
 For clouds may gather even
 Though this is summer weather,
 Put out the lights and drench us through;
 Then if we lost our way what should we do?"

Laura turned cold as stone
 To find her sister heard that cry alone,
 That goblin cry,
 "Come buy our fruits, come buy."
 Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?
 Must she no more such succous pasture find,
 Gone deaf and blind?
 Her tree of life drooped from the root:
 She said not one word in her heart's sore ache;
 But peering thro' the dimness, naught discerning,
 Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the way;
 So crept to bed, and lay
 Silent 'til Lizzie slept;
 Then sat up in a passionate yearning,
 And gnashed her teeth for balked desire, and wept
 As if her heart would break.

Day after day, night after night,
 Laura kept watch in vain,
 In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
 She never caught again the goblin cry:
 "Come buy, come buy,"
 She never spied the goblin men
 Hawking their fruits along the glen:
 But when the noon waxed bright
 Her hair grew thin and gray;
 She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn
 To swift decay, and burn
 Her fire away.

One day remembering her kernel-stone
 She set it by a wall that faced the south;
 Dewed it with tears, hoped for a root,
 Watched for a waxing shoot,
 But there came none;
 It never saw the sun,
 It never felt the trickling moisture run:
 While with sunk eyes and faded mouth
 She dreamed of melons, as a traveller sees
 False waves in desert drouth
 With shade of leaf-crowned trees,
 And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.

She no more swept the house,
 Tended the fowls or cows,
 Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,
 Brought water from the brook:
 But sat down listless in the chimney-nook
 And would not eat.

Tender Lizzie could not bear
 To watch her sister's cankerous care,
 Yet not to share.
 She night and morning
 Caught the goblins' cry:
 "Come buy our orchard fruits,
 Come buy, come buy."
 Beside the brook, along the glen
 She heard the tramp of goblin men,
 The voice and stir
 Poor Laura could not hear;
 Longed to buy fruit to comfort her,
 But feared to pay too dear,

She thought of Jeanie in her grave,
 Who should have been a bride;
 But who for joys brides hope to have
 Fell sick and died
 In her gay prime,
 In earliest winter-time,
 With the first glazing rime,
 With the first snow-fall of crisp winter-time.

Till Laura, dwindling,
 Seemed knocking at Death's door:
 Then Lizzie weighed no more
 Better and worse,
 But put a silver penny in her purse,
 Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps of furze
 At twilight, halted by the brook,
 And for the first time in her life
 Began to listen and look.

Laughed every goblin
 When they spied her peeping:
 Came towards her hobbling,
 Flying, running, leaping,
 Puffing and blowing,
 Chuckling, clapping, crowing,
 Clucking and gobbling,
 Mopping and mowing,
 Full of airs and graces,
 Pulling wry faces,
 Demure grimaces,
 Cat-like and rat-like,
 Ratel and wombat-like,
 Snail-paced in a hurry,
 Parrot-voiced and whistler,
 Helter-skelter, hurry-skurry,
 Chattering like magpies,
 Fluttering like pigeons,
 Gliding like fishes, --
 Hugged her and kissed her;
 Squeezed and caressed her;
 Stretched up their dishes,
 Panniers and plates:
 "Look at our apples
 Russet and dun,
 Bob at our cherries
 Bite at our peaches,
 Citrons and dates,
 Grapes for the asking,
 Pears red with basking
 Out in the sun,
 Plums on their twigs;
 Pluck them and suck them,
 Pomegranates, figs."

"Good folk," said Lizzie,
 Mindful of Jeanie,
 "Give me much and many"; --
 Held out her apron,
 Tossed them her penny.
 "Nay, take a seat with us,
 Honor and eat with us,"
 They answered grinning;
 "Our feast is but beginning.
 Night yet is early,
 Warm and dew-pearly,
 Wakeful and starry:
 Such fruits as these
 No man can carry;
 Half their bloom would fly,
 Half their dew would dry,
 Half their flavor would pass by.
 Sit down and feast with us,
 Be welcome guest with us,
 Cheer you and rest with us."
 "Thank you," said Lizzie; "but one waits
 At home alone for me:
 So, without further parleying,
 If you will not sell me any
 Of your fruits though much and many,
 Give me back my silver penny
 I tossed you for a fee."
 They began to scratch their pates,
 No longer wagging, purring,
 But visibly demurring,
 Grunting and snarling.
 One called her proud,
 Cross-grained, uncivil;
 Their tones waxed loud,
 Their looks were evil.
 Lashing their tails
 They trod and hustled her,
 Elbowed and jostled her,
 Clawed with their nails,
 Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,
 Tore her gown and soiled her stocking,
 Twitched her hair out by the roots,
 Stamped upon her tender feet,
 Held her hands and squeezed their fruits
 Against her mouth to make her eat.

White and golden Lizzie stood,
 Like a lily in a flood,
 Like a rock of blue-veined stone
 Lashed by tides obstreperously, --
 Like a beacon left alone
 In a hoary roaring sea,
 Sending up a golden fire, --
 Like a fruit-crowned orange-tree
 White with blossoms honey-sweet
 Sore beset by wasp and bee, --
 Like a royal virgin town
 Topped with gilded dome and spire
 Close beleaguered by a fleet
 Mad to tear her standard down.

One may lead a horse to water,
 Twenty cannot make him drink.
 Though the goblins cuffed and caught her,
 Coaxed and fought her,
 Bullied and besought her,
 Scratched her, pinched her black as ink,
 Kicked and knocked her,
 Mauled and mocked her,
 Lizzie uttered not a word;
 Would not open lip from lip
 Lest they should cram a mouthful in;
 But laughed in heart to feel the drip
 Of juice that syruped all her face,
 And lodged in dimples of her chin,
 And streaked her neck which quaked like curd.
 At last the evil people,
 Worn out by her resistance,
 Flung back her penny, kicked their fruit
 Along whichever road they took,
 Not leaving root or stone or shoot.
 Some writhed into the ground,
 Some dived into the brook
 With ring and ripple.
 Some scudded on the gale without a sound,
 Some vanished in the distance.

In a smart, ache, tingle,
 Lizzie went her way;
 Knew not was it night or day;
 Sprang up the bank, tore through the furze,
 Threaded copse and dingle,
 And heard her penny jingle
 Bouncing in her purse, --
 Its bounce was music to her ear.
 She ran and ran
 As if she feared some goblin man
 Dogged her with gibe or curse
 Or something worse:
 But not one goblin skurried after,
 Nor was she pricked by fear;
 The kind heart made her windy-paced
 That urged her home quite out of breath with haste
 And inward laughter.

She cried "Laura," up the garden,
 "Did you miss me ?
 Come and kiss me.
 Never mind my bruises,
 Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices
 Squeezed from goblin fruits for you,
 Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
 Eat me, drink me, love me;
 Laura, make much of me:
 For your sake I have braved the glen
 And had to do with goblin merchant men."

Laura started from her chair,
 Flung her arms up in the air,
 Clutched her hair:
 "Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
 For my sake the fruit forbidden?
 Must your light like mine be hidden,
 Your young life like mine be wasted,
 Undone in mine undoing,
 And ruined in my ruin;
 Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden?"
 She clung about her sister,
 Kissed and kissed and kissed her:
 Tears once again
 Refreshed her shrunken eyes,
 Dropping like rain
 After long sultry drouth;
 Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,
 She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth.

Her lips began to scorch,
 That juice was wormwood to her tongue,
 She loathed the feast:
 Writhing as one possessed she leaped and sung,
 Rent all her robe, and wrung
 Her hands in lamentable haste,
 And beat her breast.
 Her locks streamed like the torch
 Borne by a racer at full speed,
 Or like the mane of horses in their flight,
 Or like an eagle when she stems the light
 Straight toward the sun,
 Or like a caged thing freed,
 Or like a flying flag when armies run.

Swift fire spread through her veins, knocked at her heart,
 Met the fire smouldering there
 And overbore its lesser flame,
 She gorged on bitterness without a name:
 Ah! fool, to choose such part
 Of soul-consuming care!
 Sense failed in the mortal strife:
 Like the watch-tower of a town
 Which an earthquake shatters down,
 Like a lightning-stricken mast,
 Like a wind-uprooted tree
 Spun about,
 Like a foam-topped water-spout
 Cast down headlong in the sea,
 She fell at last;
 Pleasure past and anguish past,
 Is it death or is it life ?

Life out of death.
 That night long Lizzie watched by her,
 Counted her pulse's flagging stir,
 Felt for her breath,
 Held water to her lips, and cooled her face
 With tears and fanning leaves:
 But when the first birds chirped about their eaves,
 And early reapers plodded to the place
 Of golden sheaves,
 And dew-wet grass
 Bowed in the morning winds so brisk to pass,
 And new buds with new day
 Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream,
 Laura awoke as from a dream,
 Laughed in the innocent old way,
 Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
 Her gleaming locks showed not one thread of gray,
 Her breath was sweet as May,
 And light danced in her eyes.

Days, weeks, months,years
 Afterwards, when both were wives
 With children of their own;
 Their mother-hearts beset with fears,
 Their lives bound up in tender lives;
 Laura would call the little ones
 And tell them of her early prime,
 Those pleasant days long gone
 Of not-returning time:
 Would talk about the haunted glen,
 The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men,
 Their fruits like honey to the throat,
 But poison in the blood;
 (Men sell not such in any town;)
 Would tell them how her sister stood
 In deadly peril to do her good,
 And win the fiery antidote:
 Then joining hands to little hands
 Would bid them cling together,
 "For there is no friend like a sister,
 In calm or stormy weather,
 To cheer one on the tedious way,
 To fetch one if one goes astray,
 To lift one if one totters down,
 To strengthen whilst one stands."

Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard

2011-04-19T01:24:36Z

STH-003: /* Soundtrack */

{{PCSummary
|Clan=Toreador


|Coterie=


|Position=


|Status=2


|Domain=Middle Georgia


|Path=Humanity


|rating=4


|p=[mailto:wastevens@gmail.com Drew S.]

}}

__TOC__

=Overview=
[[Image:Wiki.png|thumb|[[Special:Upload|Upload]] your own picture and replace this section with your own]]
'''Real Name: '''
Thomas Heard

'''Alias(es): '''
Tommy

'''Apparent Age:''' 26

'''Concept:'''
 The degenerate of a fallen political family, who intends to enjoy himself until the end of time

'''Physical description:'''
 Thomas appears to be a white male in his middle 20s. His hair is a sandy brown with the first hints of gray at the temples, while his beard is auburn. He has blue eyes, walled behind thick glasses. When attending gather, he generally dresses in quality clothing; black pants, a red shirt, and black blazer. He is especially noted for always having a rose tucked into his jacket's vest pocket, and for his silver rose necklace.

'''Detailed Status:'''
 Acknowledged by [[Charles McMillan]], Prince of Atlanta
 Praised by Warren Oak, then Primogen in Atlanta

<h2>Character Information</h2>

==Known History==
Thomas was the second son of a once-great political family, based out of Rome, Georgia. His family has fallen on hard times in the last several years- while still prosperous and well-known, their star has passed, as a series of scandals and tragedies in the mortal world rocked them- unbeknownst, consequences of the Rebellion's activity in Georgia, disrupting the control of elders whom had more than once used the Heard family as their cats-paw. Thomas himself drifted through these tragedies, content with an easy life of living off a trust fund and his connections- culminating in a fateful meeting with Angelica Fishbourne-Rose, who Embraced Thomas, giving him an eternity to dedicate to find himself.

He has only recently returned from touring the courts of France, where he has been for the last five years. And he is totally not insufferable about name-dropping this fact.

==Allies==

Allies is such a strong word. Thomas gets along well with many Kindred, but isn't sure he would call any allies- especially not so recently after his long absence.
 [[Lilyanna Salvatore]] has at least expressed some admiration towards some of his poetry. Is that alliance? Seems a slender thread.

==Enemies==

Enemies is likewise, a tremendously strong word. Who could be bothered to find enemity with such a fop?

==Sire==

Angelica Fishbourne-Rose (NPC) - A Toreador political machinist

==Childer==

None

==Broodmates==

He's never asked, and Angelica's never told him.

==Character Inspirations==

* Oscar Wilde
* Lady Lys (from the Lucifer comic series)
* "We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams..."
* The definition of degenerate

==Soundtrack==

<ul>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QOt-sqiVQtI Beauty Is Within Us, by Yoko Kano]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36254Dt2ylI Popular, from Wicked]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoAPCwn7F-k Bring Me to Life, by Evanescence]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5ONCovAWTw Beatiful Thieves, by AFI]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVqKPNlxWIc The Sun Is Often Out, by Patrick Wolf]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L70Nca5MvM8 Viva La Vida, by Coldplay]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rWqQ9uwqQxk Lullaby; music by Loreena McKennitt, verse by William Blake]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wpPk8qk3uQ Pachelbel's Canon in D Major, performed by the Slovac Chamber Orchestra]</li>
<li>[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1H4TsKIjTc Mephistopheles' Return from Beethoven's Last Night, by Trans-Siberian Orchestra]
<ul><li>Really, pretty much all of Beethoven's Last Night</li></ul></li>
</ul>

==Quotes==

"What do I do? I seek to entertain myself- it can be most trying."

"Oh god, not the 'What is Art' discussion again. Lily, you have my sincerest apologies."

==Rumors==

<ul>
<li>Thomas is actually a Toreador antitribu, in league with the Rebellion.
<ul>
<li>He did return on the heels of a spike of Rebellion activity.</li>
<li>And on his first night back in Middle Georgia, he did lead the bulk of the domain to an art showing that was set up by the Rebellion.</li>
</ul>
</li>

<li>Thomas is actually a Venture infiltrator.
<ul>
<li>He's often mistaken for one, probably thanks to the jacket.</li>
<li>Also, his Sire is married to Marcus Fishbourne, a powerful Venture, who advised his Accounting.</li>
</ul>
</li>

<li>Thomas can't actually write poetry to save his life
<ul>
<li>He once tried to rhyme 'back' with 'soon'.</li>
<li>He has a ghouled poet, and presents said work as his own.</li>
</ul>
</li>
</ul>

==Poems==

Some of the poetry written by Thomas, which he is more than happy to share.

* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Ballade of Tristan and Isolde) | The Ballade of Tristan and Isolde]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Midnight Hunt) | Midnight Hunt]]

And poems written by others, which Thomas especially likes.

* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (Ode by Arthur OShaughnessy) | Ode, by Arthur O'Shaughnessy]]
* [[Thomas Heard Poetry (The Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti) | The Goblin Market, by Christina Rossetti]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (The Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti)

2011-04-18T16:11:44Z

STH-003: Created page with 'The Goblin Market, by Christina Rossetti MORNING and evening Maids heard the goblins cry: "Come buy our orchard fruits, Come buy, come buy: Apples and qui…'

Thomas Heard Poetry (Ode by Arthur OShaughnessy)

2011-04-18T16:04:08Z

STH-003:

Ode, by Arthur O'Shaughnessy

WE are the music-makers,
   And we are the dreamers of dreams,
 Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
   And sitting by desolate streams;
 World-losers and world-forsakers,
   On whom the pale moon gleams:
 Yet we are the movers and shakers
   Of the world for ever, it seems.

With wonderful deathless ditties
 We build up the world's great cities,
   And out of a fabulous story
   We fashion an empire's glory:
 One man with a dream, at pleasure,
   Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
 And three with a new song's measure
   Can trample an empire down.

We, in the ages lying
   In the buried past of the earth,
 Built Nineveh with our sighing,
   And Babel itself with our mirth;
 And o'erthrew them with prophesying
   To the old of the new world's worth;
 For each age is a dream that is dying,
   Or one that is coming to birth.

 Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard Poetry (Ode by Arthur OShaughnessy)

2011-04-18T16:03:34Z

STH-003: Created page with 'WE are the music-makers,   And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers,   And sitting by desolate streams; World…'

WE are the music-makers,
   And we are the dreamers of dreams,
 Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
   And sitting by desolate streams;
 World-losers and world-forsakers,
   On whom the pale moon gleams:
 Yet we are the movers and shakers
   Of the world for ever, it seems.

With wonderful deathless ditties
 We build up the world's great cities,
   And out of a fabulous story
   We fashion an empire's glory:
 One man with a dream, at pleasure,
   Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
 And three with a new song's measure
   Can trample an empire down.

We, in the ages lying
   In the buried past of the earth,
 Built Nineveh with our sighing,
   And Babel itself with our mirth;
 And o'erthrew them with prophesying
   To the old of the new world's worth;
 For each age is a dream that is dying,
   Or one that is coming to birth.

 Back to [[Thomas Heard]]

Thomas Heard

2011-04-18T15:59:26Z

STH-003: /* Poems */

Thomas Heard Poetry (Midnight Hunt)

2011-04-17T15:06:13Z

STH-003: Created page with 'The Hunt Hunters stalk throughout the night Music drawn within their wake As they aim to overtake Quarry pale, as cool moonlight. Draw down they, their bows …'

The Hunt

Hunters stalk throughout the night 
Music drawn within their wake 
As they aim to overtake 
Quarry pale, as cool moonlight.

Draw down they, their bows of horn 
Arrows spit with piecing cry- 
Yet unstruck, rebounding, spry 
Dashes she, into gray morn.

Hounds release with fearsome bay 
Falcons cut through air with ease 
Eager they, to hunters please 
‘Masters, come!’ they seem to say.

Cornered now, with shaking breath 
Midnight’s chase comes to a close 
Arrows fly from hunters bows 
Piercing cry, and quarry’s death.

Written with Expression x3
 Back to [[Thomas Heard]]