Roberta Martin
Application for Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, or Ilvermorny NPCs
Name: Roberta Abeille Martin
Status: Pureblood
School: Beauxbatons
Year: 3rd Year
Appearance:ReducioOften serious, the slender and graceful Roberta rarely lets her hair down from its tight bun. Her posture is exceptional as she is both a lively dancer and amateur fencer trained by her father and mother. Her bright and enthusiastic smile is usually seen right after victory, a more determined look creases her brow and forehead while she concentrates. Often focused and clearly high-spirited, no amount of distraction seems to pull Roberta's confident glower away from her opponents when in the ring.
Personality:ReducioBorn to win and taught not to accept defeat too early, Roberta is a shining example of someone who is hard on others, and even harder on herself. While she enjoys her athletic hobbies and the vibrancy magic brings to her life, Roberta spends most of her time furthering her still incomplete knowledge of the many charms and jinxes used in such wizard duels. Otherwise, she tries to get her work done as fast as possible so that she can follow her passions.
Outside of the arena, Roberta tends to make a friend out of every new face she meets, as even her most vehement opponents have earned her respect after coming to terms. Those that meet her in person rapidly learn that the overly protective and fearsome athlete desires above all to win honorably. Roberta's closest friends and family know she would go to even greater lengths to earn their respect and admiration, even so far as to push herself a little too hard.
Looking to please not only her family and friends but herself, Roberta is a perfectionist who has yet to master anything. This lack of mastery combined with her silent impatience grates at her on a personal level even though she does not frequently share those opinions. Rarely the type to lash out in anger or revenge, but often the type to stand her ground to the death, Roberta Martin stands head and shoulders above most of her peers, but only because she does her absolute best.
History:ReducioBorn on the unusually warm afternoon of February 8th 2008 to her father Amaury Martin and her mother Ghislaine Vogel, Roberta was thrust into the lap of luxury. Roberta's parents, both pureblooded wizards boasting heritage of duelists, athletes, and more, have consistently pushed their young champion to achieve her greatest ambitions. Since she was very small she has held a sword, and as a warrior she has rarely accepted defeat. As a child, she's known it plenty.
The night of her 6th birthday, Amaury and Ghislaine gifted Roberta with her first rapier. Both wary that their daughters innate magical abilities might manifest, they pressured her to maintain a regiment of practice far too stressful for a child her age. In a fit of anger after losing a bought to her older brother, Roberta snapped her foil in twain. Doubtful it would work, but amazed nonetheless when it did, the prodigy duelist pressed the two halves of her sword together and after releasing her grip, the parts remained whole. The Martin family threw a tremendous celebration the following week.
On her eleventh year, Roberta was sent to study at Beauxbatons. Quickly finding that she not only enjoyed learning about magic, but loved it, Roberta discovered that the naturally artistic expression of wizard dueling called to her in a way that inspired her ambitions. The young witch quickly fell into the ranks of students who would sign up for the dueling within the academy. Good sportsmanship and elegant displays of magic became her forte. After practicing hard, Roberta stood out from the other students after confronting her then nemesis and deflating his ego with a well timed flippendo sent him crashing into the fountains of the school's lavish gardens.
Her first year at Beauxbatons whizzed by as she kept her head down after making her big splash. The number of those who called themselves her rival dwindled, and popularity of those who called themselves her friend soared. She then spent the summer practicing fencing, ballet and horseback riding on her family estate in southern France. Before the start of the school year, Amaury and Ghislaine took Roberta on a tour around their home countries, showing their daughter the various monuments and statues. Of those she saw, one impressed her most, the Arc De Triomphe.
After witnessing the many names on the monument to victory, Roberta swore to herself that one day a monument would be raised in honor of her own victories. First she would have to find something worth fighting for.
Last edited by Sylvain Wyllt on 27 Mar 2022, 20:15, edited 1 time in total.
"Things are never so bad they can't be made worse." -Elim Garak
Roberta Martin
Is your character a Broom Racer? NO.
Is your character a Quidditch Player? NO.
Is your character a Duelist? YES.
Stats:
Abilities:
Is your character a Quidditch Player? NO.
Is your character a Duelist? YES.
Stats:
Reducio
Stamina: 10
Evasion: 15
Strength: 1
Wisdom: 10
Arcane Power: 7
Accuracy: 10
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Stamina: 10
Evasion: 15
Strength: 1
Wisdom: 10
Arcane Power: 7
Accuracy: 10
1st Win- viewtopic.php?t=18291&start=130#p306207
2nd Win- viewtopic.php?t=19420&start=90#p373363
3rd Win- viewtopic.php?t=21157&start=90#p453812
Abilities:
Evasive Maneuvers WC (530)
First Year Ability
First Year Ability
Reducio
"You're not fighting fair." She said with a grumpy pout on her face. "Your arms are much longer, and you're at least a meter taller than me." Focused and determined, her words did not distract her from the battle, but rather accented her anger as she struck back at him, missing thrice.
"Ma petite championne." My little champion Amaury said with a ticklishly warm and playful undertone. "You cannot assume that all of your fights and bouts will be fair! No, you must steal victory out from beneath your opponents." Each word was punctuated with a swipe or a thrust. There was no resting for the Martin family duelists, they did not relent until they had been proven triumphant, or forced to accept defeat.
Nimbly evading, yet another weak swipe to the side in preparation for a thrust, Roberta attempted to find her balance while making a mental note to parry on the inside of the slash the next time he made that mistake. If her father wasn't going to make a mistake and provide her with an opening, the spirited warrior witch was going to make him offer her one.
"Petit Abeille," Little Bee her father japed as he stabbed at her again, "why do you dodge instead of striking?" His face was alight with bemusement as his stabs missed his nimble daughters backpedaling. If she could read his thoughts however she would hear the overflowing but bottled up pride that swelled with each of her evasive maneuvers.
A flash of inspiration swept across Roberta's face as her father attempted the same mistake she'd been looking for. Hilt off alignment lead by a low aggression swipe to the same side in preparation for a thrust. He'd done this three times in a row. She brought her foil up and in full to glide along her opponent's epee effortlessly. It was as though two streams converged into one. A nimble step to her right through the slash off center making the thrust miss her by less than a couple centimetres. Those centimetres were calculated. With her every fraction of her might, Roberta pushed the rapier true and struck her shell-shocked father in the chest.
Mouth agape, Amaury removed his helmet to stare at the marvel of his daughter, the french pureblood was awe-stricken. His little champion before him, prideful in her triumph.
"I learned it from you." She said with the same bemusement her father had earlier. "if there's not an opening, I'll make one."
Amaury Hexcode: 4066e0
Relentless in his assault, Amaury Martin's flurry of blows kept his fencing partner and ten year old daughter Roberta at bay. Size being her most limiting factor, Roberta was perpetually at a disadvantage when fighting her father. As he had told her a dozen times before it took root in her mind, the victory-minded duelist would have to create an opening rather than wait for one to appear. If she made an opening she could close in and strike true, the only problem was that her father's form was quite flawless. It was his mastery of martial arts she envied now as they fought, later it would be his ability to pick ice cream flavors.Roberta Hexcode: 967bb6
"You're not fighting fair." She said with a grumpy pout on her face. "Your arms are much longer, and you're at least a meter taller than me." Focused and determined, her words did not distract her from the battle, but rather accented her anger as she struck back at him, missing thrice.
"Ma petite championne." My little champion Amaury said with a ticklishly warm and playful undertone. "You cannot assume that all of your fights and bouts will be fair! No, you must steal victory out from beneath your opponents." Each word was punctuated with a swipe or a thrust. There was no resting for the Martin family duelists, they did not relent until they had been proven triumphant, or forced to accept defeat.
Nimbly evading, yet another weak swipe to the side in preparation for a thrust, Roberta attempted to find her balance while making a mental note to parry on the inside of the slash the next time he made that mistake. If her father wasn't going to make a mistake and provide her with an opening, the spirited warrior witch was going to make him offer her one.
"Petit Abeille," Little Bee her father japed as he stabbed at her again, "why do you dodge instead of striking?" His face was alight with bemusement as his stabs missed his nimble daughters backpedaling. If she could read his thoughts however she would hear the overflowing but bottled up pride that swelled with each of her evasive maneuvers.
A flash of inspiration swept across Roberta's face as her father attempted the same mistake she'd been looking for. Hilt off alignment lead by a low aggression swipe to the same side in preparation for a thrust. He'd done this three times in a row. She brought her foil up and in full to glide along her opponent's epee effortlessly. It was as though two streams converged into one. A nimble step to her right through the slash off center making the thrust miss her by less than a couple centimetres. Those centimetres were calculated. With her every fraction of her might, Roberta pushed the rapier true and struck her shell-shocked father in the chest.
Mouth agape, Amaury removed his helmet to stare at the marvel of his daughter, the french pureblood was awe-stricken. His little champion before him, prideful in her triumph.
"I learned it from you." She said with the same bemusement her father had earlier. "if there's not an opening, I'll make one."
Evasive Maneuvers WC (483)
Second Year
Second Year
Reducio
Predictably, the massively towering third year dropped the poor eleven year recipient of his torture and trudged through a flower bed. Lavender was crushed beneath his plodding footsteps as the earth itself parted beneath his grungy boots. "Say it to my face and not my back you coward." That was a mistake on his part for sure, she might have let it go if he stopped, but she was not going to back down from a challenge so forthright.
Not be fearless, but not a coward, the brute's insult resulted in a reaction that was opposite to effect he had desired. "I said, you're a no good, big, fat, stupid, idiot." She poked his chubby belly for good measure. He was only thirteen or fourteen after all, barely old enough to start looking more adult like so he had some chubbiness. Like her instructors had taught her, and exactly as she had been prepared to do, she slowly crept her wand out of it's holster while digging her finger into his belly button. The provocation didn't last long, as the tickling sensation apparently really pissed him off.
"ARAAGH," the teenage werewolf screamed furiously while nearly foaming at the mouth. Bernard brought both arms upwards in a huge arc. Rage consumed his features and made him as predictable as broad daylight, showing exactly how boys all to often elected to solve their problems. Bernard's stupid idiot arms then came crashing down with such force that he would surely have pulverized the duelist into a paste or dust of some kind. Of course, Roberta was prepared for this exact move and only had to step back to dodge out of inaccurate brute's way. Her combat reflexes were already improving.
Pivoting to the back of Bernard's enraged and spitting form, Roberta pointed her wand at his back. She then flipped the now soaking wet cretin of a dog into the ornate fountains amidst Beauxbaton's lavish gardens using a well timed knock back charm. Plain to see for all enjoying their lunch in the courtyards, Roberta was clearly victorious over the dampened bully. Respectfully and politely, the triumphant bee leaned forward extending the same hand that poked Bernard's belly button as a peace offering. "Here, let's dry you off so I can tell you what you did wrong and maybe next time you'll win." She smirked, "though you probably shouldn't count on it."
Bernard Hexcode: c21807
Unsure as to whether or not "Big fat stupid idiot," was enough to get him riled up, Roberta went ahead and bit her thumb too. Sick of his bullying, and not just that which affected herself but everyone else around her too, Roberta decided to pick a fight with Bernard Colline. Sure, he might have been a werewolf, but that didn't mean he automatically had the right to pick on everyone just for having cursed blood. The nerve of some people astounded her sensibilities.Roberta Hexcode: 967bb6
Predictably, the massively towering third year dropped the poor eleven year recipient of his torture and trudged through a flower bed. Lavender was crushed beneath his plodding footsteps as the earth itself parted beneath his grungy boots. "Say it to my face and not my back you coward." That was a mistake on his part for sure, she might have let it go if he stopped, but she was not going to back down from a challenge so forthright.
Not be fearless, but not a coward, the brute's insult resulted in a reaction that was opposite to effect he had desired. "I said, you're a no good, big, fat, stupid, idiot." She poked his chubby belly for good measure. He was only thirteen or fourteen after all, barely old enough to start looking more adult like so he had some chubbiness. Like her instructors had taught her, and exactly as she had been prepared to do, she slowly crept her wand out of it's holster while digging her finger into his belly button. The provocation didn't last long, as the tickling sensation apparently really pissed him off.
"ARAAGH," the teenage werewolf screamed furiously while nearly foaming at the mouth. Bernard brought both arms upwards in a huge arc. Rage consumed his features and made him as predictable as broad daylight, showing exactly how boys all to often elected to solve their problems. Bernard's stupid idiot arms then came crashing down with such force that he would surely have pulverized the duelist into a paste or dust of some kind. Of course, Roberta was prepared for this exact move and only had to step back to dodge out of inaccurate brute's way. Her combat reflexes were already improving.
Pivoting to the back of Bernard's enraged and spitting form, Roberta pointed her wand at his back. She then flipped the now soaking wet cretin of a dog into the ornate fountains amidst Beauxbaton's lavish gardens using a well timed knock back charm. Plain to see for all enjoying their lunch in the courtyards, Roberta was clearly victorious over the dampened bully. Respectfully and politely, the triumphant bee leaned forward extending the same hand that poked Bernard's belly button as a peace offering. "Here, let's dry you off so I can tell you what you did wrong and maybe next time you'll win." She smirked, "though you probably shouldn't count on it."
Lovely Creature WC (495)
Third Year
Third Year
Reducio
Aspiring to add flair to her duelling style, something that she had been lacking according to both her father and the Beauxbatons’ coaches, Roberta had spent her summer studying the Wizarding World's duelling elites. Some were fanciful with their wands, their magic an impressive flourish to behold. Their performances came off as if each spell had been cast in order to be stylish in its own right. Other duellists preferred the hype of their managers. They focused on using the crowd's approval to fuel their eccentric egos thus propelling them to victory. Fashion however was perhaps the single most important thing to any of them. They were, each of them, decked out in marvelous displays of gear that: put fear into the hearts of their opponents, left the audience with awe on their lips, or even drew disapproving whispers from the crowd of onlookers. Some special few just looked foolish, though they at least had tried.
So what did Roberta do to add flair to her duelling technique? She had gone shopping of course. Stopping at no length to please his daughter, Amaury had spent galleons upon galleons these past few months. Color changing makeup? Bought it with haste. Dresses specifically bearing enchantments meant to dazzle her opponents? Purchased more than a dozen. Shoes that made her taller and more intimidating? Several pairs now lined her closet’s sprawling floor space. It wasn't enough to simply buy some jewelry and accessories to match, she needed an advisor. Someone to coordinate her entire wardrobe for her. Her father acquiesced. A manager who told her what brands were advertising this year? Did that kind of person even exist in this setting? Of course. Well at very least they did now. It was only a short few weeks before Roberta's regalia had been selected, tailored, and fashioned into radiance. Her ensemble eventually being shown off in a homegrown fashion run.
Walking out from her enormous walk-in closet, Roberta swung her hips side to side as she approached her family and their estate's staff. Eyes like fire, she wasn’t as intimidating as she was difficult to look away from, she would give her audience a bold wink followed by a flashy smile. Her father's face lit with pride upon seeing her glow so passionately, as did her mother’s heart when she smiled. Her fashion advisor even let a single tear roll down his cheek to express his sorrow for those who would dare cross paths with her in the future. Each was too busy clapping and cheering her on towards victory to comment on how she had chosen to dress. She had chosen to dress like a warrior. It was clear that she had taken the time and effort to prepare herself with confidence and that confidence would translate onto the big stage this summer. If she were going to become a world renowned duellist, then she would dress the part until she got it. Right now, she looks exquisite.
Aspiring to add flair to her duelling style, something that she had been lacking according to both her father and the Beauxbatons’ coaches, Roberta had spent her summer studying the Wizarding World's duelling elites. Some were fanciful with their wands, their magic an impressive flourish to behold. Their performances came off as if each spell had been cast in order to be stylish in its own right. Other duellists preferred the hype of their managers. They focused on using the crowd's approval to fuel their eccentric egos thus propelling them to victory. Fashion however was perhaps the single most important thing to any of them. They were, each of them, decked out in marvelous displays of gear that: put fear into the hearts of their opponents, left the audience with awe on their lips, or even drew disapproving whispers from the crowd of onlookers. Some special few just looked foolish, though they at least had tried.
So what did Roberta do to add flair to her duelling technique? She had gone shopping of course. Stopping at no length to please his daughter, Amaury had spent galleons upon galleons these past few months. Color changing makeup? Bought it with haste. Dresses specifically bearing enchantments meant to dazzle her opponents? Purchased more than a dozen. Shoes that made her taller and more intimidating? Several pairs now lined her closet’s sprawling floor space. It wasn't enough to simply buy some jewelry and accessories to match, she needed an advisor. Someone to coordinate her entire wardrobe for her. Her father acquiesced. A manager who told her what brands were advertising this year? Did that kind of person even exist in this setting? Of course. Well at very least they did now. It was only a short few weeks before Roberta's regalia had been selected, tailored, and fashioned into radiance. Her ensemble eventually being shown off in a homegrown fashion run.
Walking out from her enormous walk-in closet, Roberta swung her hips side to side as she approached her family and their estate's staff. Eyes like fire, she wasn’t as intimidating as she was difficult to look away from, she would give her audience a bold wink followed by a flashy smile. Her father's face lit with pride upon seeing her glow so passionately, as did her mother’s heart when she smiled. Her fashion advisor even let a single tear roll down his cheek to express his sorrow for those who would dare cross paths with her in the future. Each was too busy clapping and cheering her on towards victory to comment on how she had chosen to dress. She had chosen to dress like a warrior. It was clear that she had taken the time and effort to prepare herself with confidence and that confidence would translate onto the big stage this summer. If she were going to become a world renowned duellist, then she would dress the part until she got it. Right now, she looks exquisite.
Fearless WC (456)
Fourth Year
Fourth Year
Reducio
It wasn't long after the champions for the tournament were chosen that Roberta managed to stop her sulking and recover her pride. It came as no surprise that this news was a major blow to her ego . That she hadn't been chosen to represent Beauxbatons as the school champion, at least not this year, so it sort of felt like she wasn’t worthy of the honor her family raised her to believe in. Still, there were many years to come and after much thought she considered that it was only a matter of time until she proved herself worthy. All of her fearful worrying about how she might be seen as a failure, and the feelings of the insecurity brought on by comparing herself to others, was ousted when she found herself once more. All that remained after sorting through the surface feelings was the deep doubt and trepidation that her time as a duellist had been wasted.
She would sit with her feet tapping the stone floors, eyes glazed over, while idly glaring into the contents of an unfinished letter half-written to home. She would conjure up the inner-resolve to honor her father's words, firm reassurances of a brilliant mind who'd taught his daughter to persevere during times of hardship. She would miss her mother's smile, the comforting warmth of her kind and gentle presence. The strength of her opponent, their popularity, the return to a noble tradition of competition. It was an incredible honor even to participate. She would be entering the first tournament of this kind between schools since the days of the second wizarding war. When she imagined the joy brought on by the good news she would be sending her family, fear itself was conquered. It wasn’t just the support of her family that encouraged her, but the strength she’d be earning along the way that motivated her.
Now resolute in her mind, she began to put the power of that bravery into the quill in her hand, writing her fears at length. By summoning her reserves of courage, she had finished writing the letter to home. She wrote of finding the strength to carry on despite her fears, of her father's inspiration, and of her mother's comforting smile. She wrote of courageously facing Dhampir, Half-Giants and Werewolves as equals. When she had finally finished the letter, she found that she was no longer worried how her comparison to others made her feel insecure. The only thing left worth being afraid of was refusing to let go of what held her back, and right now the only thing holding her back was fear of the unknown and she had very much just decided she had become invincible to all of it.
It wasn't long after the champions for the tournament were chosen that Roberta managed to stop her sulking and recover her pride. It came as no surprise that this news was a major blow to her ego . That she hadn't been chosen to represent Beauxbatons as the school champion, at least not this year, so it sort of felt like she wasn’t worthy of the honor her family raised her to believe in. Still, there were many years to come and after much thought she considered that it was only a matter of time until she proved herself worthy. All of her fearful worrying about how she might be seen as a failure, and the feelings of the insecurity brought on by comparing herself to others, was ousted when she found herself once more. All that remained after sorting through the surface feelings was the deep doubt and trepidation that her time as a duellist had been wasted.
She would sit with her feet tapping the stone floors, eyes glazed over, while idly glaring into the contents of an unfinished letter half-written to home. She would conjure up the inner-resolve to honor her father's words, firm reassurances of a brilliant mind who'd taught his daughter to persevere during times of hardship. She would miss her mother's smile, the comforting warmth of her kind and gentle presence. The strength of her opponent, their popularity, the return to a noble tradition of competition. It was an incredible honor even to participate. She would be entering the first tournament of this kind between schools since the days of the second wizarding war. When she imagined the joy brought on by the good news she would be sending her family, fear itself was conquered. It wasn’t just the support of her family that encouraged her, but the strength she’d be earning along the way that motivated her.
Now resolute in her mind, she began to put the power of that bravery into the quill in her hand, writing her fears at length. By summoning her reserves of courage, she had finished writing the letter to home. She wrote of finding the strength to carry on despite her fears, of her father's inspiration, and of her mother's comforting smile. She wrote of courageously facing Dhampir, Half-Giants and Werewolves as equals. When she had finally finished the letter, she found that she was no longer worried how her comparison to others made her feel insecure. The only thing left worth being afraid of was refusing to let go of what held her back, and right now the only thing holding her back was fear of the unknown and she had very much just decided she had become invincible to all of it.
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