22 Aug 2021, 09:37
DO NOT POST HERE: Application for Magical Races/Talents and Special Abilities
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Here!
Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Parselmouth
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Word Count: *added word count: 575/500* 849/500
Stamina 5 | Evasion 7 | Strength 3 | Wisdom 6 | Arcane Power 5 | Accuracy 4
STATUS: Approved
Mod edit: Using a RP as application is possible. In case of talents or races I'm looking for explanations why you are able to do what you want to do. In this RP you can already speak parsel, but you are a muggle-born. I'm interested in your lineage.
I added 500 words about the lineage and circumstances. Thanks!
The changes are fine. You have added a pureblood father now, yo please apply for a blood status change and reflect that in your backstory by writing out a form in the re-index thread.
Della from Paddington
stamina 6 | evasion 13 | strength 3 | wisdom 9 | arcane power 5 | accuracy 10
Parselmouth | Evasive Maneuvers
Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Parselmouth
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Added: Family History
Della's mother Lena was eighteen when she meant Devon. He was tall and handsome. His hair was already graying even though he was only twenty-two. Devon seemed different--he was like other men Lena had met in Stoke. He hadn't gone to her secondary school, which was a definite plus. They met at a local coffee shop, and it was love at first sight. That sounds cliche, sure, but there was something electric between them. Now that Lena is older and wiser, it might have just been lust, but still, she fell for Devon hard. And Devon fell for her. They dated for two years. Whenever Devon's family came up, he was quiet and mysterious. Lena didn't try to push him on this--she was too worried about ruining their relationship. When Lena found out she was pregnant--and this is where it gets fuzzy--Devon disappeared. Lena remembers something about a fight, and Devon's pet snake, and . . . there was something about his family. But Lena isn't sure why she can't remember. When Della was a toddler, she desperately tried to find Devon. Eventually, she had to give up, and she became resigned to the fact that it was just Della and her.
What Lena doesn't know is that Devon was a wizard. He was from an old pureblood family that had resided in Stoke for centuries. Devon had tried dating witches, but the pureblood pool was small--there weren't many wixes in Stoke in general. Unsure of what he wanted to do with his life after Hogwarts, he lived at home with his mother. When he met Lena, the whole world shifted around her. He fell in love. But he knew his mother would never accept him marrying a muggle, or a mudblood. as she would say. His family was no longer wealthy or grand as they had been in a century ago, but his mother kept up the old traditions. His family had a unique trait of speaking to snakes, something his mother was proud of, and she wanted to pass the trait onto a "noble" child. Devon kept his life from Lena, and it was perfect at first. He pretended to be a muggle with her and loved his new life. Then Lena was pregnant. Devon panicked. He first tried to Lena the truth, and she was overwhelmed. As she came around to the idea of Devon's world, Devon then started to panic. His mother would never agree to this. Who knows what she would do to Lena if she took matters into her own hands? Devon, for the safety of Lena and his unborn child, erased most of Lena's memory of himself. Memory charms were not his strong suit. Devon left the town of Stoke without meeting his child, nor telling his mother about her grandchild. He did not know that he had passed his ability to speak to snakes onto his child, either.
Lena couldn't remember what Devon had told her; she did remember he had affinity with snakes, but she didn't pass this information onto her daughter. The memory charm had confused her enough that she wasn't sure how to talk about the man she had fallen in love with, or the mysterious circumstances of his disappearance.
Della knows nothing of the wix world, nor the reputation of those that can speak to snakes.
May 2017: The Grass Snake
Della's mother, Lena, always worked a lot. This definitely wasn't something that Della was happy about, but she understood, even at a young age, that her mother was working hard to provide for them.
After school most days, Della would be picked by Turner's parents and have to stay at their house until her mom got home. Turner's mom and Lena were on friendly terms, and it seemed that Turner's mom pitied their situation. They only lived a street over from Lena and Della's house.
Turner was an absolute brat. He would pull Della's hair, make fun of her not having a dad, and never let her have a turn on the Xbox. "Girls aren't good at video games; you'd mess it up!" If the weather were nice, Turner's mom would force them outside. When his mom wasn't looking, Turner would enjoy shoving Della into the mud.
Della understood that the situation was precarious. Her mom needed her to go someplace after school, and there weren't any options available to her in Stoke beyond this. But Della got back at Turner in her own way. At first, she tried to point out Turner's behavior to his mother, but she turned the other way when it came to her son. So Della offered to help Turner with his homework, giving him a complex explanation that would lead him astray or just telling him a plain wrong answer. Somehow, Turner never connected Della's advice to the red marks on his paper.
One day, Turner took his bullying too far. They were in his backyard, playing cops and robbers. Turner was always the cop, and he always won. Della was sitting under a tree "in jail."
"My mom said your mom must have been some kind of skunk. Because she doesn't know who your father is. If she wasn't a skunk, then she could get child support from your deadbeast dad. Are you poor because your mom is a skunk? And because your dad is a deadbeast? You guys don't smell like skunks. Are you a skunk? Maybe you're a skunk, and that's why you can't afford nice things like us good humans."
Turner clearly didn't understand the words he was repeating, and neither did Della, but she was able to grasp how Turner's mom felt about her and Lena. She started to cry.
"Waa-waaaw, a little crybaby skunk!" Turner jeered.
Della could help herself--she hit Turner square in the nose. He was shocked and stumbled back. He, too, began to cry and ran into the house. It would be a matter of time before Della would get in trouble for this, which made her cry even more. She sunk down beneath the tree, deflated. Turner's mom probably wouldn't let her come over anymore, and that would really make life more difficult for Della's mom.
Are you okay? a small voice slithered.
Della looked around. No one was there.
Down here.
Right next to Della's feet, coiled in between two tree roots, was a small grass snake. Its body was mostly a greenish-brown, with a few brilliant yellow scales here and there.
"Are you talking to me?"
Yessss, of coursse. That boy isss very rude.
"Am I okay? Am I losing it? Snakes can talk?"
You might be losing it. I'm a ssssnake, not a psssychiatrissst. But I have alwayss been able to talk. Jussst never met a human who could underssssstand me.
Just then, they both heard a theatrical wail from inside the house. Turner was probably setting the nails in Della's coffin.
Blame it on me.
"Huh?"
Run into the housssse terrified. Keep blabbering about oh the ssscary sssnake, it made me jump! I hit him on accident! Humanssss really don't like usss.
"I don't want to get you in trouble."
I'll ssssslither away before anyone can catch me.
Della's mind was racing, but the most persistent thought was that she didn't want to lose her new friend so soon.
"Can we meet again?"
Of coursssse. It would my pleasssure.
Della quickly gave the snake directions to her own backyard, and then she heard another wail from inside the house. Glancing at the windows, she was sure no one had seen her talk to the snake. Turner's performance must have been too melodramatic--his mom probably hadn't fully gathered what had happened yet.
Go, go, go!
________
And so began Della's friendship with Gus. They talked almost every day, apart from the times Della went to visit her cousin in Birmingham. He turned out to be very playful, they would often make up little games together, or he would amuse Della with his jokes--though the jokes were never at her expense. In October, he had to hibernate, but he promised to see her next April. That winter, a little after the new year, Della's uncle died. Lena and her sister decided to move in together and move all the way to London that same spring. Della never got the chance to say goodbye. She never told anyone about Gus, but she's always keeping an eye out for him.
Added: Family History
Della's mother Lena was eighteen when she meant Devon. He was tall and handsome. His hair was already graying even though he was only twenty-two. Devon seemed different--he was like other men Lena had met in Stoke. He hadn't gone to her secondary school, which was a definite plus. They met at a local coffee shop, and it was love at first sight. That sounds cliche, sure, but there was something electric between them. Now that Lena is older and wiser, it might have just been lust, but still, she fell for Devon hard. And Devon fell for her. They dated for two years. Whenever Devon's family came up, he was quiet and mysterious. Lena didn't try to push him on this--she was too worried about ruining their relationship. When Lena found out she was pregnant--and this is where it gets fuzzy--Devon disappeared. Lena remembers something about a fight, and Devon's pet snake, and . . . there was something about his family. But Lena isn't sure why she can't remember. When Della was a toddler, she desperately tried to find Devon. Eventually, she had to give up, and she became resigned to the fact that it was just Della and her.
What Lena doesn't know is that Devon was a wizard. He was from an old pureblood family that had resided in Stoke for centuries. Devon had tried dating witches, but the pureblood pool was small--there weren't many wixes in Stoke in general. Unsure of what he wanted to do with his life after Hogwarts, he lived at home with his mother. When he met Lena, the whole world shifted around her. He fell in love. But he knew his mother would never accept him marrying a muggle, or a mudblood. as she would say. His family was no longer wealthy or grand as they had been in a century ago, but his mother kept up the old traditions. His family had a unique trait of speaking to snakes, something his mother was proud of, and she wanted to pass the trait onto a "noble" child. Devon kept his life from Lena, and it was perfect at first. He pretended to be a muggle with her and loved his new life. Then Lena was pregnant. Devon panicked. He first tried to Lena the truth, and she was overwhelmed. As she came around to the idea of Devon's world, Devon then started to panic. His mother would never agree to this. Who knows what she would do to Lena if she took matters into her own hands? Devon, for the safety of Lena and his unborn child, erased most of Lena's memory of himself. Memory charms were not his strong suit. Devon left the town of Stoke without meeting his child, nor telling his mother about her grandchild. He did not know that he had passed his ability to speak to snakes onto his child, either.
Lena couldn't remember what Devon had told her; she did remember he had affinity with snakes, but she didn't pass this information onto her daughter. The memory charm had confused her enough that she wasn't sure how to talk about the man she had fallen in love with, or the mysterious circumstances of his disappearance.
Della knows nothing of the wix world, nor the reputation of those that can speak to snakes.
May 2017: The Grass Snake
Della's mother, Lena, always worked a lot. This definitely wasn't something that Della was happy about, but she understood, even at a young age, that her mother was working hard to provide for them.
After school most days, Della would be picked by Turner's parents and have to stay at their house until her mom got home. Turner's mom and Lena were on friendly terms, and it seemed that Turner's mom pitied their situation. They only lived a street over from Lena and Della's house.
Turner was an absolute brat. He would pull Della's hair, make fun of her not having a dad, and never let her have a turn on the Xbox. "Girls aren't good at video games; you'd mess it up!" If the weather were nice, Turner's mom would force them outside. When his mom wasn't looking, Turner would enjoy shoving Della into the mud.
Della understood that the situation was precarious. Her mom needed her to go someplace after school, and there weren't any options available to her in Stoke beyond this. But Della got back at Turner in her own way. At first, she tried to point out Turner's behavior to his mother, but she turned the other way when it came to her son. So Della offered to help Turner with his homework, giving him a complex explanation that would lead him astray or just telling him a plain wrong answer. Somehow, Turner never connected Della's advice to the red marks on his paper.
One day, Turner took his bullying too far. They were in his backyard, playing cops and robbers. Turner was always the cop, and he always won. Della was sitting under a tree "in jail."
"My mom said your mom must have been some kind of skunk. Because she doesn't know who your father is. If she wasn't a skunk, then she could get child support from your deadbeast dad. Are you poor because your mom is a skunk? And because your dad is a deadbeast? You guys don't smell like skunks. Are you a skunk? Maybe you're a skunk, and that's why you can't afford nice things like us good humans."
Turner clearly didn't understand the words he was repeating, and neither did Della, but she was able to grasp how Turner's mom felt about her and Lena. She started to cry.
"Waa-waaaw, a little crybaby skunk!" Turner jeered.
Della could help herself--she hit Turner square in the nose. He was shocked and stumbled back. He, too, began to cry and ran into the house. It would be a matter of time before Della would get in trouble for this, which made her cry even more. She sunk down beneath the tree, deflated. Turner's mom probably wouldn't let her come over anymore, and that would really make life more difficult for Della's mom.
Are you okay? a small voice slithered.
Della looked around. No one was there.
Down here.
Right next to Della's feet, coiled in between two tree roots, was a small grass snake. Its body was mostly a greenish-brown, with a few brilliant yellow scales here and there.
"Are you talking to me?"
Yessss, of coursse. That boy isss very rude.
"Am I okay? Am I losing it? Snakes can talk?"
You might be losing it. I'm a ssssnake, not a psssychiatrissst. But I have alwayss been able to talk. Jussst never met a human who could underssssstand me.
Just then, they both heard a theatrical wail from inside the house. Turner was probably setting the nails in Della's coffin.
Blame it on me.
"Huh?"
Run into the housssse terrified. Keep blabbering about oh the ssscary sssnake, it made me jump! I hit him on accident! Humanssss really don't like usss.
"I don't want to get you in trouble."
I'll ssssslither away before anyone can catch me.
Della's mind was racing, but the most persistent thought was that she didn't want to lose her new friend so soon.
"Can we meet again?"
Of coursssse. It would my pleasssure.
Della quickly gave the snake directions to her own backyard, and then she heard another wail from inside the house. Glancing at the windows, she was sure no one had seen her talk to the snake. Turner's performance must have been too melodramatic--his mom probably hadn't fully gathered what had happened yet.
Go, go, go!
________
And so began Della's friendship with Gus. They talked almost every day, apart from the times Della went to visit her cousin in Birmingham. He turned out to be very playful, they would often make up little games together, or he would amuse Della with his jokes--though the jokes were never at her expense. In October, he had to hibernate, but he promised to see her next April. That winter, a little after the new year, Della's uncle died. Lena and her sister decided to move in together and move all the way to London that same spring. Della never got the chance to say goodbye. She never told anyone about Gus, but she's always keeping an eye out for him.
Word Count: *added word count: 575/500* 849/500
Stamina 5 | Evasion 7 | Strength 3 | Wisdom 6 | Arcane Power 5 | Accuracy 4
STATUS: Approved
Mod edit: Using a RP as application is possible. In case of talents or races I'm looking for explanations why you are able to do what you want to do. In this RP you can already speak parsel, but you are a muggle-born. I'm interested in your lineage.
I added 500 words about the lineage and circumstances. Thanks!
The changes are fine. You have added a pureblood father now, yo please apply for a blood status change and reflect that in your backstory by writing out a form in the re-index thread.
Last edited by Della Barfield on 4 Sep 2021, 23:05, edited 1 time in total.
Della from Paddington
stamina 6 | evasion 13 | strength 3 | wisdom 9 | arcane power 5 | accuracy 10
Parselmouth | Evasive Maneuvers
22 Aug 2021, 16:51
DO NOT POST HERE: Application for Magical Races/Talents and Special Abilities
ENCY | here!
ABILITY | perfectionist
WHY —
ABILITY | perfectionist
WHY —
ReducioCassidy is a perfectionist. There's no doubt in the mind of anybody who makes this statement. Anybody who has ever met Cassidy at least twice will know this about her. She wouldn't even need to tell them this as it shows in whatever she does, from a simple essay to making her bed. It's anything she produces has to be at the skill level of somebody twice her age or she simply doesn't care about the subject and will hardly try. It's rare that she'll consciously put little effort into something unless it's to spite somebody or she truly hates doing it. Most the time, she's trying to produce work which could be mistaken as an adult's. She can do some brilliant things because she keeps trying and pushing to make it better, for sure. Many people call her talented or bright. Her expectations of herself can sometimes pay off as while, no matter what she thinks, she'll never be perfect, she can create a lot of things very close to it if she works hard enough.
She may produce brilliant stuff, but it's never as good as she envisioned it to be or she got it done in twice the time she had hoped. This causes her to constantly let herself down. No matter how brilliant she thinks she is or how far ahead she is she'll never meet her own expectations, and if she miraculously does, she's cringing at it the next day. She'll never escape herself, she's her worst critic. Every upside to whatever she does can be met with a downside she'll have pointed out. Cassidy gets even worse when she feels somebody's better than her. To be perfect, you can't be lesser, that doesn't make sense. She wants to be the best, at the top, number one. She can't lose, it's not an option in her eyes. Second place will never suffice. If somebody performs better than her she can feel embarrassed and beat herself up over it.
Another downside to her perfectionism is the time it takes to do something. She's always behind in doing a task, which will lead to stress and imperfection. Cassidy receives many compliments, sure, but she's always angry at herself because the people who compliment her are already on the next task. Even writing something is slow because her handwriting has to be in pristine condition, and if it's not, it gets rubbed out. Cassidy can perfect many things, but speed isn't one of them.
WORD COUNT
418/400
STATUS: Approved
|NO ABILITIES |
| STA 4 | EV 8 | STR 6 | WIS 9 | ARC 6 | ACC 2 |
24 Aug 2021, 19:17
DO NOT POST HERE: Application for Magical Races/Talents and Special Abilities
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Here
Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Fearless
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
The next day, when Lisa woke up, she was overexcited. She woke her parents by jumping on their bed and screaming:
-We're going on holiday! We're going on holiday!!!!!!
-Wait a minute Lisa...
They answered her. Lisa came back to the living room. And waited. Then her parents finally woke up. They ate their breakfast together and left around 11 o'clock. The road was long and boring. When they arrived, it was 3 o'clock. They were going to sleep in a hotel on a mountain. Lisa was smiling with all her little teeth. The family had a nice snack and decided to go for a short hike in the mountains. They went up higher than the hotel to see the view from the top. The valley was so beautiful. From up there it should be even better. It took them a good hour to get up there. Then the family sat at the top, looking at the view.
-The view is beautiful.
Lisa's mother said repeatedly. Lisa stood up.
-When are we going home?
-Right now, right now...
She stood up in turn, soon followed by her father. The family started walking up the mountain. Then they heard a sound: HI HAAAAAAAAN! It was a donkey. And Lisa wanted to see it. That's why she ran to the edge of the cliff. Her mother and father were shouting at her to come back. But Lisa did not listen to them. And when they rushed towards her to pull her away from the edge, it was too late: Lisa was falling. She was screaming with all her might. Her mother had no choice: she said a magic spell and Lisa stopped falling. Her eyes widened. Her mother pulled her back to the edge of the cliff. Lisa's father looked at Lisa, then at her mother. He looked just as surprised. Then Lisa exclaimed:
-MOM! You saved my life! And... You are MAGIC!!!!!! I was scared to death.
That day, Lisa's parents got separated. Her father didn't want to live with a witch. And from that day on, Lisa was no longer afraid. She had used up her supply. She knew that nothing could be scarier than knowing you were going to die, falling off a cliff. In short, she was no longer afraid of anything.
STATUS: Approved
24 Aug 2021, 22:40
DO NOT POST HERE: Application for Magical Races/Talents and Special Abilities
STATUS: ApprovedLink to your encyclopedia thread: encyclopedia
Name of Ability or Race that you Are Applying for: SeerDescribe why this fits your character:
ReducioColina was born to a wizard-born and a half-blood. She thinks of herself as one of the many average wizards in the population, with no particular abilities she was born with that made her immediately stand out among her peers. However, there was an entire lineage Colina had that she was completely oblivious to.
Colina's Mother, Amelia, was born to two wizards, her mother being a Seer. When her parents divorced, her mother moved to England to get a job at the Ministry of Magic, meaning Amelia attended Hogwarts starting her Second Year. During her Fourth Year, Amelia discovered that she was a Seer just like her mother, and her mother was ecstatic.
Amelia wasn't as happy, though. Her mother quickly started to groom her to be a professional Seer despite her passion to take care of magical creatures in some way. Eventually, Amelia ran away to Scotland with Colina's father, Tavish, desperate for a way to leave the situation. She constantly made an effort to disguise the fact that she was a Seer, from dying her hair to hide the fact it was white to trying experimental potions that claimed to nullify her visions.
Being a half-blood, Tavish didn't have a chance of being a Seer like Amelia. However, his father, Ewan, is a different story. Ewan came from a prominent pureblood family. They were very strict and Ewan found his beliefs greatly strayed from theirs. He left the family after he fell in love with Tavish's mother, a muggle named Isla. Ewan didn't like talking about his family much, even with Isla.
That meant that Tavish never really learned that half of his lineage was full of strictly pureblood wizards. That's also why Tavish assumed that he wasn't carrying any special magical genes, other than those that any other half-blood wizard did. Unbeknownst to Tavish, he had a great-great-grandmother that exhibited some odd behavior.
Cora Bowie was a pureblood wizard born in the mid 19th century. For the first 13 years of her life, she lived pleasantly with a silver spoon in her mouth. At some point, her peers noted that she started acting really strange, completely out of nowhere. She started ranting and raving about some sort of curse befalling the world. One of her closest friends also swore that when she saw Cora in the bathroom, her hair looked discolored.
Out of nowhere, Cora was pulled out of school by her parents and she didn't come back for the rest of the school year. When she came back the next year, she was quiet and closed off. She stayed like that for the rest of her life and died alone, her children taking her inheritance and quickly abandoning her.
Colina had a pretty day-to-day life, she spent almost every day going over to her neighbor, Holly's, house where she would tell Colina stories until it was time for her to go home. Despite that, Holly noted that she almost expected when something exciting was going to happen that day. Like when she would decide to bake Colina something as a surprise, she would be extremely giddy rather than her normal reserved self when she arrived. If Holly ever asked her why she was in such a good mood she would just shrug and continue to bounce around.
There was one particular moment that threw Holly off when Colina was only five years old. Holly had an old tabby cat named Kingsley. Colina loved Kingsley and played with him quite frequently. Holly always told her that she was the only human that cat liked.
One day when Colina came over, however, she was bawling her eyes out, unable to explain why she was so sad. She just spent the entire day sulking as she held onto Kingsley. The next morning, Tavish had to break the news to Colina that Kingsley had passed away that night. He took Colina to the library that day to allow Holly time to grieve.Word Count: 662/500Please list out your stats using the 6-point stat system:
Stamina: 5
Evasion: 8
Strength: 3
Wisdom: 3
Arcane Power: 4
Accuracy: 7
hex code: #821159 ● encyclopedia
sta: 5 | eva: 8 | str: 3 | wis: 3 | arc: 4 | acc: 7
sta: 5 | eva: 8 | str: 3 | wis: 3 | arc: 4 | acc: 7
25 Aug 2021, 05:41
DO NOT POST HERE: Application for Magical Races/Talents and Special Abilities
Year 1 Ability
STATUS: ApprovedLink to your encyclopedia thread: viewtopic.php?f=169&t=8208
Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Prodigal Charms LearnerDescribe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):ReducioBe the best of them all. That was what was expected of her. Mostly unspoken by her parents and fully asserted by her extended family. Who would the young lady be if she were to let them down? A disappointment? Someone unworthy of their gifts? Little Sylvie O’Niell thought so. Some of those who knew her looked to think so.
So, that’s what she intended to be. Her parents were excellent pupils, after all. Even before her precious letter from Hogwarts arrived at their doorstep, Sylvie studied her parents’ ways tirelessly; Eagerly, even. A flick of the wrist, a roll of the tongue that added flair to a particular incantation. What herbs and wacky doodads went into what potions and what in the world they were used for. She followed it all. She had to be prepared, after all.
In her first year, the extraordinary world of Hogwarts dazzled Sylvie, but she struggled for the first few months of school. Her best friend excelled in his classes, book smart as can be. She envied him. Envied his talent of being able to sit and study, resented his exceptional skill in the classroom. She craved his ability to grasp onto word spoken in lectures and shoot them into action almost immediately as they came. Sylvie was supposed to be the finest that there ever was- and would be to come. Yet here she was, overshadowed. How would that do? What a jab to the self-esteem.
So, perhaps it was out of spite and bitterness, even though she’d never recognize it, that Miss O’Niell would abruptly begin to push herself to the point of exhaustion to rise within the ranks of her year. Jealousy is a dreadful thing... But a wonderful motivator. Potions and history classes were all well and good, she thought, but if there was one subject she latched onto... It was Charms. It was where the magic happened! Literally and figuratively. It was extravagant. Flashy. She came to cherish the excitement of getting a spell right. Her first successful wingardium leviosa practically moved her to tears after so much trial and error, the feather rising into the air filled her with joy. Nobody else was around that night in the common room. She did that. Nobody needed to see it for her to feel proud of herself.
It was then that she came to understand it was often easier to learn when you’re not bearing the burden of everybody’s expectations. There was no need to compare herself if she was never less than in the first place. It was much more fun to learn for herself, then learn because if you didn’t, you were a presumed failure. She shed those fears, and for the better. Dedicated now not to becoming the best, but to absorb as much knowledge as she could during her schooling, and furthering her love for charms of all form, she became a diligent student and never looked back again.• Stamina: 7 • Evasion: 4 • Strength: 5 • Wisdom: 6 • Arcane Power: 8 • Accuracy: 5WC: 494
Sylvie O'Niell
• STA. 10, EV. 6, STR. 5, WIS. 9, AP. 13, ACC. 9
• Hex: #900000
28 Aug 2021, 18:21
DO NOT POST HERE: Application for Magical Races/Talents and Special Abilities
Encyclopaedia thread: link
Applying for Prodigal Charms Learner
ReducioEleanor had always had a very easy time learning new information, as long as the topic interested her. This had amazed and annoyed her mother greatly when she was younger. She often wondered how her daughter, who had picked up mathematics with great ease, and soaked up every detail about the witch burnings in the fourteenth century, seemed incapable of remembering the basics of making clothes, a skill her mother thought to be very important. Eleanor thought it was obvious. For example, the witch burnings were very interesting. The complexity and hilarity of the period when seen from both a muggle and wizard view, had instantly caught her attention when her mother had touched on it in their History class. Mathematics, however, was logical and when she was challenged by a problem and solved it she felt pleasantly satisfied afterwards. But when her mother tried teaching her to sow? That was boring. No matter how hard she tried she could not keep her mind from drifting to other things she'd rather do or think about, and then, every word her mother said might as well have been another language.
The weeks before leaving for Hogwarts, Eleanor pored over her schoolbooks like she had never done before. She had been looking forwards to going to Hogwarts for years and she couldn't wait to get started, to be there already. She was especially interested in Charms. Her entire childhood she had watched adults in her life perform charms for a million different things; the applications of charms, she knew, were vast. She spent many evenings curled up in a living room chair, memorising charms, practicing the hand movements. She was determined to do well in Charms come September.
In her Charms classes Eleanor found to her delight that charmwork was positively easy. She didn't struggle with the spells like many others in the class. It came to her naturally, or perhaps through all the studying she had done. Whenever she couldn't do a spell perfectly, she refined and improved until she could, whenever she saw a spell she didn't know, she was dying to learn it. She would not accept anything less than perfect.
The problem was, Eleanor had now effectively learned the entire years Charms curriculum within a couple months. There was no new information in her Charms classes, very little to learn that she did not already know and she was finding it increasingly hard to pay attention. So after only a month at Hogwarts, she asked her professor if she could be allowed to learn charms above her year.
STATUS: ApprovedWord count: 433/400
03.09.21 Trunk got locked, student is not yet in index.
31 Aug 2021, 12:42
DO NOT POST HERE: Application for Magical Races/Talents and Special Abilities
Link to your encyclopedia thread: https://www.hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f ... 45#p176335
Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Binding Mark
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
STATUS: Approved
Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Binding Mark
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
WC: 449
In his late twenties, Marcus met a werewolf named Elijah and became a member of his "pack." Within the first week of knowing Elijah, he found out that the man really wanted to learn the process behind a binding mark. Although Marcus was familiar with the concept, he had never heard a name put to the process nor had he known anyone who was capable of placing one. Elijah wanted to use the marks as a sign of family - of being fully embraced into his pack - and found the communication aspects of it to be incredibly useful. He particularly wanted to mark the other wolves in the pack and the closest family that worked with them on their werewolf rights missions. Marcus wasn't particularly fond of the idea of sharing his thoughts with another (though he would later learn that's not exactly how binding marks worked), but he volunteered to help track down more information on the process.
In between his construction work and pack tasks, Marcus researched and gained knowledge of the binding mark process. He scoured libraries in the States - where he was located at the time - and wrote owls to authors. He found out exactly how the binding mark worked for communication. That a symbol would appear on the skin and there needed to be an activation word. It was a lot more complex than he had originally thought. When he finally narrowed down every part to it, he intended to present this knowledge to Elijah.
However, he made the final discovery of the process at a time when he and Elijah were at odds. Marcus' partner at the time had been attacked by someone sending a threatening message to Elijah, and there was a lot of tension happening between the two. So he did not immediately share that knowledge, and then he never got the chance to. Following a violent encounter where he fought alongside Elijah, the latter was paralyzed and Marcus felt the brunt of the guilt associated with it. He was soon ousted from the pack, and knowledge of the binding mark process left with him. If it had even crossed his mind at the time, he probably would have passed on the knowledge.
A few months later when he did think about it next, he was sitting in his apartment back home in England. Marcus wrote down everything he knew about binding marks. The process to give them. The specifics of how they worked. And then he tucked away this note sheet in a book he owned. Although he had the knowledge to do it himself, he doubted he would come across any desire to do so. But just in case...
In his late twenties, Marcus met a werewolf named Elijah and became a member of his "pack." Within the first week of knowing Elijah, he found out that the man really wanted to learn the process behind a binding mark. Although Marcus was familiar with the concept, he had never heard a name put to the process nor had he known anyone who was capable of placing one. Elijah wanted to use the marks as a sign of family - of being fully embraced into his pack - and found the communication aspects of it to be incredibly useful. He particularly wanted to mark the other wolves in the pack and the closest family that worked with them on their werewolf rights missions. Marcus wasn't particularly fond of the idea of sharing his thoughts with another (though he would later learn that's not exactly how binding marks worked), but he volunteered to help track down more information on the process.
In between his construction work and pack tasks, Marcus researched and gained knowledge of the binding mark process. He scoured libraries in the States - where he was located at the time - and wrote owls to authors. He found out exactly how the binding mark worked for communication. That a symbol would appear on the skin and there needed to be an activation word. It was a lot more complex than he had originally thought. When he finally narrowed down every part to it, he intended to present this knowledge to Elijah.
However, he made the final discovery of the process at a time when he and Elijah were at odds. Marcus' partner at the time had been attacked by someone sending a threatening message to Elijah, and there was a lot of tension happening between the two. So he did not immediately share that knowledge, and then he never got the chance to. Following a violent encounter where he fought alongside Elijah, the latter was paralyzed and Marcus felt the brunt of the guilt associated with it. He was soon ousted from the pack, and knowledge of the binding mark process left with him. If it had even crossed his mind at the time, he probably would have passed on the knowledge.
A few months later when he did think about it next, he was sitting in his apartment back home in England. Marcus wrote down everything he knew about binding marks. The process to give them. The specifics of how they worked. And then he tucked away this note sheet in a book he owned. Although he had the knowledge to do it himself, he doubted he would come across any desire to do so. But just in case...
STATUS: Approved
1 Sep 2021, 03:25
DO NOT POST HERE: Application for Magical Races/Talents and Special Abilities
STATUS: ApprovedENCYCLOPEDIA: here!
ABILITY: [FOURTH-YEAR] Foul Play
ReducioWC: 450/400
It never quite seemed apparent how Cecily managed to one-up her older, more experienced brothers in the small, mock-Quidditch games in their yard that was really nothing more than a glorified monkey-in-the-middle. The odds seemed against her, and yet, somehow, she always managed to slip the tattered, leather ball they played with right through their fingers. Maybe she was just smaller and faster. Maybe she was cleverer. Maybe it was a little something else, something she had been born with, a certain knack for sleight of hand.
Three years it had been since Cecily picked up a Quaffle for Team Ravenclaw, several more since she had cracked a book about the complex yet enthralling sport of Quidditch, and even more than that since she had first kicked off the ground on a broom. She may not have been the greatest Quidditch player in all of Hogwarts, but she'd be damned if she wasn't well-read, well-trained, and well-equipped to strategise Ravenclaw's opponents right out of the sky. And while her playbook was typically clean and fair, she wouldn't be the first, and far from the last, whose strategising occasionally included a little bit of, well, foul play.
Cecily Quinn would hardly consider herself cheater. Rather, she was a... strategic rule-bender. She didn't take flight above the Quidditch with the sole intention of shoulder-checking an opponent off of their broom. No, Cecily understood and respected the rules of the game, but what she also understood and respected was the benefits of some sporadic risk-taking. She wasn't exactly of the mindset that rules were meant to be broken. Besides, it would be an awfully boring game, not to mention an incredibly stressed out Nurse, if all players did was body-blow each other into oblivion. But Cecily was fairly sure that most rules had exceptions, and when those exceptions came with the promise of winning the Quidditch Cup, well. Perhaps it was a risk worth taking.
And although the girl was far from shouting from mountain-tops the amount of times she had bent the rules-- a little shoulder check here, a bit of intimidation there-- she'd done her fair share of playing mildly unclean. And, as any skill improves with practice, she'd only gotten better at the art of trickery over time. She was faster, smoother, more precise. She saw an opportunity, made her move, and got out. There was no time for dilly-dallying in Quidditch or in rule-bending. She wasn't a magician, by any means-- well, in some technicalities she was, but no magic was involved in her sly plays, her underhanded moves. It was practice, it was carefulness, it was an innate sense of cunning and cleverness that kept her just under the radar.
Mod edit.: There is a Trunk issue. Please read the Standardized Trunk rules and update your trunk accordingly.
| C. Quinn | and until we meet again. |
1 Sep 2021, 07:08
DO NOT POST HERE: Application for Magical Races/Talents and Special Abilities
Link to your encyclopedia thread: viewtopic.php?f=169&t=17778&p=282640#p282640
Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Werewolf
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
STATUS: Approved
03.09.21 Student is not yet in Index. Trunk was locked
Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for: Werewolf
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
“Tristan! You were told! TOLD! Never to visit your aunt on that day. What were you THINKING?” his father roared. “You nearly died. What would your aunt think? Your MOTHER?”
It was the first time he had been truly angry at him, he recalled. Of course, he had been punished, and chided, but his father was always a kind, patient man. Which made this outburst all the worse.
His father had sent his mother and brothers out of the hospital room at St. Mungos, the yelling having drawn the attention of a passing nurse, briefly glimpsed through the open door of the room. That seemed to calm his father somewhat as his face calms from the contortion it had gone through in his rage, the man wetting his lips with his tongue as he began to pace, the anger in his face shifting back to something calmer.
Of course, Tristan was aware of the whispering that was going on – between his mother bursting into tears, and his brothers and sisters kept from seeing him. He understood little of the context but was aware that something dire and dangerous had gone on.
He was nine years old, after all. Almost just barely so, having turned so just last month.
And vaguely, he recollected the events of the night prior.
He cared very deeply for his aunt, Maysie. She seemed a tormented soul, and even as a child, he could pick up on that. She lived alone on the edge of the city, near the forest – and had a heart for animals. She would often take in sick and dying animals, and care for them just so. Being his father’s sister, the family often visited her; but they always visited during the brightest times of the day, and never ever at night.
And she was always grateful for the company, spoiling him and his siblings, and showing them all the animals that she was nursing to health. There was a particular niffler, in fact, that Tristan had taken a fondness for. Baker, Tristan had named the animal, who was missing a limb, which gave him an interesting gait that Tristan had found endearing.
But he was never to visit his aunt after dark, and aunt Maysie agreed, and often had hushed conversations with his father, in which he provided a small bag of something to her.
So it was against guidance, and his better judgement, that he had decided to visit Baker the niffler after dark, at his aunt’s shack. His elder brother had helped him cover for him, thinking (or hoping) that Tristan was up to a prank or somesuch on his aunt.
But Tristan had heard a banging leading to his aunt’s basement, and what sounded like his aunt Maysie in pain. And being an empathic child, he tried to see what was wrong – to help her. There was a lock on the door, of course, but being a clever child, had broken into the basement before during a previous visit – he knew where a key was hidden. A monster sprang out instead of his aunt, and he blacked out, with a shock of pain.
When Tristan’s father finally got the information of where Tristan actually was on that night from interrogating his brother, he sprang into action, and luckily, found Tristan before he succumbed to his wounds. And managed to corral his aunt, again, before things could worse.
The dynamics of the family changed after that. Aunt Maysie refused to see her brother, or any of the children – isolating herself further out in the forest. Tristan’s father still worries about her. But Tristan was to be on a strict regimen of behavior during certain times of the month at that point thereafter.
The contents of the package that his father shared with his aunt was revealed to be Wolfsbane potions, and Tristan was to consume them religiously upon the moon’s arrival. As an Auror, his father had access to safe holding cells for werewolves, and he was placed in one of those monthly.
And his father’s position at work did suffer due to Tristan’s ‘condition’ – not that Tristan ever knew this.
In some ways, it gave his father some more sympathy for Tristan’s aunt’s plight.
Tristan does miss his aunt, terribly. And he does write her letters on occasion. He has not yet had a reply from her.
And the irony now present in his family name doesn’t go missed with him.
It was the first time he had been truly angry at him, he recalled. Of course, he had been punished, and chided, but his father was always a kind, patient man. Which made this outburst all the worse.
His father had sent his mother and brothers out of the hospital room at St. Mungos, the yelling having drawn the attention of a passing nurse, briefly glimpsed through the open door of the room. That seemed to calm his father somewhat as his face calms from the contortion it had gone through in his rage, the man wetting his lips with his tongue as he began to pace, the anger in his face shifting back to something calmer.
Of course, Tristan was aware of the whispering that was going on – between his mother bursting into tears, and his brothers and sisters kept from seeing him. He understood little of the context but was aware that something dire and dangerous had gone on.
He was nine years old, after all. Almost just barely so, having turned so just last month.
And vaguely, he recollected the events of the night prior.
He cared very deeply for his aunt, Maysie. She seemed a tormented soul, and even as a child, he could pick up on that. She lived alone on the edge of the city, near the forest – and had a heart for animals. She would often take in sick and dying animals, and care for them just so. Being his father’s sister, the family often visited her; but they always visited during the brightest times of the day, and never ever at night.
And she was always grateful for the company, spoiling him and his siblings, and showing them all the animals that she was nursing to health. There was a particular niffler, in fact, that Tristan had taken a fondness for. Baker, Tristan had named the animal, who was missing a limb, which gave him an interesting gait that Tristan had found endearing.
But he was never to visit his aunt after dark, and aunt Maysie agreed, and often had hushed conversations with his father, in which he provided a small bag of something to her.
So it was against guidance, and his better judgement, that he had decided to visit Baker the niffler after dark, at his aunt’s shack. His elder brother had helped him cover for him, thinking (or hoping) that Tristan was up to a prank or somesuch on his aunt.
But Tristan had heard a banging leading to his aunt’s basement, and what sounded like his aunt Maysie in pain. And being an empathic child, he tried to see what was wrong – to help her. There was a lock on the door, of course, but being a clever child, had broken into the basement before during a previous visit – he knew where a key was hidden. A monster sprang out instead of his aunt, and he blacked out, with a shock of pain.
When Tristan’s father finally got the information of where Tristan actually was on that night from interrogating his brother, he sprang into action, and luckily, found Tristan before he succumbed to his wounds. And managed to corral his aunt, again, before things could worse.
The dynamics of the family changed after that. Aunt Maysie refused to see her brother, or any of the children – isolating herself further out in the forest. Tristan’s father still worries about her. But Tristan was to be on a strict regimen of behavior during certain times of the month at that point thereafter.
The contents of the package that his father shared with his aunt was revealed to be Wolfsbane potions, and Tristan was to consume them religiously upon the moon’s arrival. As an Auror, his father had access to safe holding cells for werewolves, and he was placed in one of those monthly.
And his father’s position at work did suffer due to Tristan’s ‘condition’ – not that Tristan ever knew this.
In some ways, it gave his father some more sympathy for Tristan’s aunt’s plight.
Tristan does miss his aunt, terribly. And he does write her letters on occasion. He has not yet had a reply from her.
And the irony now present in his family name doesn’t go missed with him.
Stats: Stamina: 6 | Evasion: 4 | Strength: 4 | Wisdom: 8 | Arcane Power: 3 | Accuracy:5WC: 741/500
STATUS: Approved
03.09.21 Student is not yet in Index. Trunk was locked
2 Sep 2021, 03:36
DO NOT POST HERE: Application for Magical Races/Talents and Special Abilities
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Here!
Name of Ability or Race/Talent that you Are Applying for:Metamorphmagus
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):ReducioHer grandmother had always told her that their bloodline seemed to have a tendency towards unusual abilities cropping up every few generations... And that when a child with one was born, from the moment the ability showed or the child's accidental magic first occurred, that child would be preferentially selected by the Ancestral Magic as the heir, especially if other candidates had proven to be a... disappointment.
That phrase had often been found to be accompanied by a side long glance at Seren's mother, the only child her grandmother Angharad had managed to bear to term. Angharad's health, after, had meant she would never have another child, and when her mother had proven to be so very against everything the Brenhins had stood for, it was quickly apparent that she would be unlikely to be selected, unless there was no other choice at all.
These explanations had helped Seren deal with the rejection her parents gave her, at least a little, whenever it came up. It also helped explain, as she got older, why her mother had been SO very furious that Seren had shown the signs of being a metamorphmagus shortly after she had begun to have accidental magic. Seren had cemented her status as fitting in with the desired traits for the Heir before her mother could even get her hands on another fertility potion.
It was due to this anger and rejection, however, that Seren came to try to hide her abilities as much as she could, when young. She had the usual control of a child of her age, but she struggled to hide it, struggled not to let it happen, because any time she "messed up" and her mother or father saw, she would be told off for it, accused of showing off or simply told she wasn't WORTHY of the blessing she had been born with.
As she got older, and grew more unhappy with how her parents treated her, though, she found herself losing control more... It made her baby brother laugh, when she changed, and it was a thing that her parents could not actually stop her from doing. They might be nasty about it, but they could not harm her over it, or punish her. Doing anything like that would mean that the portion set aside for them in the Brenhin will would be null and void, in the end.
During this time, between when her brother was born and the death of her grandparents, she was actively practicing using her abilities, either in her rooms or when alone with her little brother. She doted on him, despite the fact that he got all the love her parents had... Because he loved her freely and generously, despite their parents. She also spent as much time as possible in the library, reading all the books she could find on other metamorphmagi.
By the time her grandmama passed, Seren had come to accept her abilities and told herself she would be proud of them for the rest of her life. When her grandfather Llewellyn passed shortly after, she found herself grieving... But wearing her grandfather's eyes or her grandmother's nose for days, entirely by accident. Sometimes, it lead to arguments with her parents... But in the end, she chose to remember that time as her way of grieving, while still holding their memory close.
Word Count: 564
STATUS: ApprovedIN CASE YOU ARE APPLYING FOR A SPECIAL RACE OR RARE TALENT:
Stamina: 2
Evasion: 8
Strength: 1
Wisdom: 10
ArcPower: 6
Accuracy: 3
03.09.21 Student is not yet in Index. Trunk was locked
Lovely Creature | Metamorphmagus | Sta: 2 | Ev: 9 | Str: 1 | Wis: 10 | Arc: 8 | Acc: 5