What is the First Rule... Slytherin Event

Actions:
Scanning the area for the elusive person marked as 1
Abilities: Evasive Maneuvers
Stats:
Stamina: 5
Evasion: 9
Strength: 3
Wisdom: 4
Arc Power: 6
Accuracy: 8
Total: 35

Thora was quickly growing impatient as she stood in line, with nothing to do but stare into the throngs of people. Boredom had never seemed a problem to the Slytherin, as Hogwarts seemed a never-ceasing source of activity, so it was a strange feeling that now plagued her. She shifted her weight to one side and rose onto her tiptoes, straining to see what it was that was taking so long. There were times where her relatively short height was useful, but this was not such a time, seeing that her attempts were useless and resulted only in sore toes.

Honestly, she had absolutely no idea what she was getting herself into--only that she had been given an invitation. Was it foolish to follow the instructions of an invitation from whom she did not know, and to a place she was unfamiliar with? Well, yes, but although one would've thought that Thora's sensibility would've kept her cloistered in Hogwarts, curiosity had overpowered logic, and here she was. At least she wasn't at all alone, as she recognized most of the people standing in line around her. There seemed to be quite a significant number of Slytherins--at least those she knew of--in the excessively long queue, and she couldn't help but speculate. What were they all doing here, presumably with the same invitation?

What the brunette could deduce without much effort, though, was that this was far from coincidence. It couldn't be a chance happening that so many people had ended up here. There now being only a few people between Thora and the entrance of some sort of tent, time seemed to move the slightest bit faster. As she craned her neck to the side, her eyes met a navy blue tent--and the revelation that she was about to meet some sort of fate, whether she wanted it or not. She'd practically asked for this, after all. Impatience turned to dread, pooling at the pit of her stomach, and she had to fight to maintain a somewhat indifferent front.

And then it was her turn. Thora offered a slight smile--although a bit tight--as she stepped into the tent, eyes flickering quickly over the face of the person who sat in front of her. A dark patch of something covered part of his face, and his skin looked… weird, for some reason she couldn't guess at from her cursory glance.

A small piece of paper was handed to her, but as she began to draw her hand back to study the contents, the boy set it on fire. Thora flinched, barely keeping from dropping the scrap of paper now scarred by flames. What was she supposed to do now? Offer a thank you? Run away?

So this was her number, though she didn't yet know what she'd have to use it for. That could be a question answered later, though, as her attention was quickly caught by the next statement. "The ring is in the basement". She knew of no ring, and no basement for that matter, especially if he was speaking about a part of a tent, which was supposedly a temporary structure. That was how it was for Muggles, at least.

She simply nodded, startled as the boy finally looked up, a strange glint in his eye. The dread only got heavier, widening her eyes ever so slightly in fear, as she handed over the requested invitation. After all, even if she was scared, she couldn't turn back now. She'd come too far for that. It didn't come as too much of a surprise to Thora when the boy held the invitation over a flame, letting it burn. Why so much fire? She bit her lip, eyes fixated on the fire which she could only hope stayed in one place. But it was the howl that accompanied the burning that scared her, making her cock her head to the side to ensure that she was actually hearing right. Paper. Howling. Something about it simply felt wrong.

She didn't even have time to think about that, though, as something stung her right arm, forcing a quiet "ow" out of her mouth. Following the initial pain, it was more of a dull throb that plagued the girl, but she couldn't place exactly what it was that had caused it. Nothing had touched her--not even the fire--so how could it have happened? Puzzled, Thora dipped her head quickly again and left the tent. She'd been brought up in a manner that pushed her to extend her gratitude in politeness, but she simply couldn't bring herself to do so. You didn't thank someone for pain. Besides, she was confused.

As Thora emerged back outside, she tugged up the sleeve of her short-sleeved T-shirt. That was where the sting had been, after all. She had no idea what to expect since she'd just seen and heard a howling paper inflict pain, but as it would turn out, no inspection was needed. Two digits--34, to be exact--had been somehow inked onto her skin. Rubbing it with her finger, she realized that it wasn't temporary--or, it wouldn't be leaving for a while. Thora narrowed her eyes, scanning her surroundings again.

Something curious was going on here, and she would find out what it was. She had to.

Of course she was invited!

To what she didn't exactly know but when opportunity knocks only a fool would miss it! It only took a quick distraction from her bratty brother and a pinch of floo powder and she was here.

Jessica proudly read the invitation over again. What was it that got their attention? Her blood? Her clearly remarkable natural talent? Whatever it was she'd soon find out. Although... she noticed as she stood near the back of the line, there were a number of people around her own age. Were they all Hogwarts students? Jessica's first year had been cut regrettably short, short enough that retaking the year seemed to be her only option. As a result she didn't really recognise anyone so far.

She'd stick to herself for the time being. It was the only person she could rely on anyway. She stood rocking on her heels, fidgeting with her invitation and dreaming of what would await her inside. Something special for her, no doubt.

When she reached the front of the line, Jessica found herself face to face with a peculiar boy. He looked barely older than her but there was certainly something... strange about him. Jessica did her best to ignore the large marking on his face, it would be rude to stare after all, and instead offered the boy her friendliest smile.

"Here you are," Jessica said in an upbeat fashion as she passed her invitation to the boy. He began to burn the paper and as he did so, Jessica's smile faltered. A small pain came from her arm, working its way up to her shoulder. With a growing frown, she pulled her sleeve up to the side to glance at where the pain was most searing.

35

"This..." Jessica's eyes darted between the boy the number on her skin. "had better not be permanent."

Was this dark magic? Her confidence was beginning to wane. She hadn't spent much time at Hogwarts at all... she didn't know much magic to defend herself. Maybe her best effort was to stay close to someone else after all...

With a final passing glance at the strange boy, Jessica stepped away from the tent, absentmindedly rubbing her arm as she did so.

Reducio

OOC: open to anyone interacting!

Ability: Comprehend Languages - Troll (not yet reviewed)

Stats
Stamina - 4 | Evasion - 8 | Strength - 3 | Wisdom - 5 | ArcPower - 8 | Accuracy - 7

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interactions OPEN | mentions all
word count 690 | text colour #274E13
abilities terrible presence
outfit ref here
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When Astrea had received an "invitation" to the London Quidditch Stadium by owl, unmarked by any particular family crest or familiar sigil, she had initially set it down dismissively, unopened and crisp. She was not a fan of Quidditch and there was no particular reason for her to visit London in the first place. To make matters worse, how had the sender even recognised her enough to write out a short paper? The young heir had managed to brush off the matter for almost an entire day, entirely content to leave it to the moths.

But after a few solid hours of quiet contemplation, the mystery of the invitation and it's contents gnawed at her with every action she performed. It was a slow, building sense of intrigue that ravaged her brain with questions, pushing its way past time lure her in with sweet closure. So here she was, placed far back in a line leading into a two-story navy blue tent in the middle of nowhere. If she was any sort of familiar with muggle culture, perhaps the girl would have compared the great number of tents and colours to a circus, or perhaps and quirky bazaar.

It seemed that among the significant amount of people gathered, there was a good amount that she recognised, a fleeting memory of green-tinted leather and stone-bricked hallways. Her fellow Slytherins, the lot of them. All of them in her line, some of them chatting happily and others looking conflicted. Stuck in a tidy lane of people, it was as if they were caged dogs.

After what seemed like an age of senseless walking forward and stopping, she finally got to the front of the line, dutifully gliding over to the table that she had watched her housemates come and go like buzzing bees, each looking more and more disconcerted than the last.

Behind the table sat not an overenthusiastic adult looking for conversation, but a grim-looking teen bearing deep green eyes and a strangely disappointed frown. Half-hooded by a cloak, there was a sense of foreboding. If Astrea was any less of a person, perhaps she would have said something. Done something. But alas, she was too far in now and instead took the silence as a free pass to commemorate the strange boy to her memory. Something in her told her she would need it later.

At a closer inspection, the stranger's olive skin looked almost unnatural upon him, stretched tight and strangely shiny in a way that made something in Astrea stir unpleasantly. Those splotches- black and Too dark to be a birthmark, smeared with glossy ointment.

She was given a slip of paper, seemingly innocent and yet Astrea still held at the corner daintily, only for the corner of it to be lit with flame. The piece would never look the same again, ravaged by flame and scarred with black. She wasn't sure what that meant for her.

"The ring is in the basement. We start in an hour."

How- peculiar. Astrea's expression grew sharp with suspicion as the other stared at her with a glint of- recognition? She was not sure- before asking for her invitation. Almost reluctantly did she exchange the paper with nimble hands, watching as the other ignited the paper over a lit candle. As an almost wolfish howl escaped the burning paper, a sharp sting made its way known upon Astrea's arm- a botched needle prick mockery of the spider venom that had trailed its way through her bloodstream some few months ago.

With a single raised eyebrow did Astrea turn her head, ebony hair swirling with the motion as she watched the skin of her shoulder glimmer. The number 36 was carved upon her bare deltoid as if a brand, burnt in by some invisible force. Before she could say anything though, the other looked bored and she was forced to move away toward the small crowd of already attended to students.

Sending a dark glare back as she walked over to stand over at the edge of the huddle, she had the distinct feeling that they were cattle lined up for slaughter.

Statistics [Total 40 points]
Stamina: 5 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 2 | Wisdom: 8 | ArcanePower: 9 | Accuracy: 9
Abilities [Full Human]
Terrible Presence

Søren wasn’t aware of the shift in tension, but the feeling was palpable. The seemingly warm nature of the group that looked friendly enough to join was now cold, probably due to his interruption. He supposed his lathering of another stack of worries onto the trio didn’t bode well. Instead of continuing to probe their minds, he shook off the icy feeling. “Lovely to meet you both, Ileen and Erik,” he replied, “And nice to see you again, Dealla… sorry, it’s Dee, right? It’s good to see a face I’ve talked to before. Much more comforting.”

He chuckled at Dealla and Erik’s attempts at lightening the situation. “I’ll pitch in if we have to buy ourselves out,” he added to Erik’s quip, though unsure of how his parents would take the reasoning for a decrease in their bank account. He put his hands up at Erik’s last words, eyebrows raised but a grin prevalent on his face. “Woah. I’ll make sure to stay behind you then,” his eyes shifted over to the girls, “I would like to say I’m good at fighting, but I’m sure Ileen and Dee could throw better punches than me.”

Søren smiled as he looked around, hoping to ease the trio. He spotted a rather large group gathering up as well as a few stragglers waiting around. He would have liked to wave any familiar faces over, but he barely interacted with anyone there, except for passing them by in the common room. There was one girl he did not recognize at all. It was likely that she was in the same boat as Dealla, a foreign animal in a snake’s nest. Søren hoped she and the rest of the loners could find a group and stick together. There would be power in numbers, surely, and if things went wrong, having people to rely on would be paramount.

Turning back to the trio, he bit on the insides of his lip. “I think we might be heading in soon, so uh, I’ll look out for you guys, okay? Can we stick together? If I see something crazy, you’ll be the first to know,” he assured, but it was more likely that everyone would be the first to know. From all the stories he heard about Hogwarts over the year, he knew the moment something was out of place, he would shout it out.

Interacting with
@Dealla Prince @Ileen Knight @Erik Tharaldson
Mentioning
@Maria Dee and everyone else

Ability: Charmer
Stamina: 6 | Evasion: 8 | Strength: 7 | Wisdom: 6 | ArcPower: 2 | Accuracy: 6

The Prefect stayed in a corner, slightly serperated from the rest. Her eyes were gloomy and dull as she turned away from everyone else. There was a weird force inside of her that made her do so. Nothing magical of the sort, nor a curse. Just... a very strong feeling, of not belonging. It amazed her how everyone could interact with each so easily. Like there was nothing to it. But Nico didn't feel the same. The dhampir would rest her hand on her shoulder, on the spot where the mark was. It still stung a little, like the pain you feel after getitng an injection at the doctors.

Her expression had turned blank. Not that the rest of them would notice. They were busy with their usual... chit chat. The Prefect had gotten more tired of that kind of conversation, more and more as of late. Was it because of the spiders? Her blue hues rolled down, eyeing at her leg, where a spider once bit. No one knew what was up with those. Were they ghosts? Hearing from other students, they spoke about the spiders vanishing after a bright light lit up the room. What kind of... creatures were they? Nico sighed, feeling uneasy. Maybe it was best to be ... by ones self. Mingling with the others, they would just look at her weird. They don't understand, she muttered. The Prefect didn't stay with her own demons for too long until a vaguely familiar face approached her. Appearing beside her, was Thomas Lestrange. Most of the students she only knew by name. Connecting them with their owners face however, was a different story.

'Hm? Yeah. I'm not sure... why we're here.' The dhampir glanced at him, while occasionally looking at her surroundings. 'What I can say is that... I don't have a good feeling about this.. This and... other things.' Nico hoped he didn't hear the last bit which mostly referred to her status and relationship with her peers. A low bubbling aura of negative experiences, boggled her mind. It didn't overtake her, it was under control. It loomed under her skin. How long would it take her this time to snap at a bystander...

Interacting with @Thomas Lestrange

Not a Mod Post but a "Mod" Post -
Just to keep track of people's entries and numbers for Lear's benefit

2 - Opeila Seilun
3 - Jack Burnett
4 - Flash Holmwood
5 - Bridget Collins
6 - Amara Dragamior
7 - Søren Silverwood
8 - Percival Rainwood
9 - Adonis Thorn
10 - Hanako Tone
11 - Koko Riddle
12 - Wyatt Starkey
13 - Santario Martin
14 - Emmanuel Min Requiza
15 - Margo White
16 - Cassandra Ironwoods
17 - Dmitri Jones
18 - Ileen Knight
19 - Percival Gray
20 - Dealla Prince
21 - Ruby Cazares
22 - Erik Tharaldson
23 - Ezekiel Wasek
24 - Nico Shymane
25 - Persephone Barret
26 - Selim Faust
27 - Dan Palmer
28 - Maria Dee
29 - Caelan Stewart
30 - Calvon Faux
31 - Tyranni Whitethorn
32 - Thomas Lestrange
33 - Alexander Varellion
34 - Thora Larkston
35 - Jessica Lester
36 - Astrea Soleil Neptune

You may continue to post. This is just for Lear's benefit.
Also Note To Lear: Numbers 20 and 31 - Dealla Prince and Tyranni Whitethorn share very similar pfps. Good luck not getting them confused! (I totally did for a second)

Interacting with: @Dealla Prince @Erik Tharaldson @Søren Silverwood

Ileen’s face turned pink as she realized Erik had overheard her and Dee’s conversation before. Somehow it made her uncomfortable, but it also amused her at the same time. “Are you sure?” She turned to Dee and gave her a knowing smile. “I told you. It’s too late for him, he’s lost. Absorbed by his ego.” She blinked at him, a bright and particularly innocent smile on her lips. But it didn’t stay for long - the worry made sure she couldn't focus on jokes. A part of her had been afraid of the encounter between her two friends for a long time. It was really important to her that they would get along - or just not hate each other, that would be fine, too.

Well, Erik was his pleasant self, as always. Ileen made a sound somewhere between a giggle and a snort and shook her head in exaggerated disbelief. “Good thing that you have no doubt that you are the number one topic. I mean - what else could we possibly talk about but the famous Erik Tharaldson?” Her tone ensured that the sarcasm got through to everyone involved and she gave the blond guy a wry smile. “And he’s right. He’s evil, stay away from him,” She assured Dee emphatically and pushed Erik slightly, but playfully into the side. When Erik agreed with Dee that she deserved good manners and Ileen herself did not, she raised an eyebrow in indignation. “What? I remember several events when my manners were fantastic even though you just deserved a kick in your butt.” She gave him a warm smile and turned to Dee. “I told you how I met him, right? I think my self-control really deserves more appreciation. I even did a curtsy! I’m pretty sure you would have killed him.”

The banter had indeed briefly distracted Ileen from her bad feeling until Søren had brought the subject up again.”Well, I also hope it’s not an auction. Somehow,” she gave Erik a bright smile, “I don’t like the idea of being bought by you guys. How about you, Dee?”
The thought of a fight wasn’t that much better and elicited a self-ironic laugh from the young Slytherin. “Thank you, Søren, for believing in me. I’m sure if my opponent sees me, he will just try to run off, since I’m so intimidating.” She grinned at him and pointed at Erik. “My plan would be to just choose a champion. I guess he will do just fine.”
Serious again, she frowned. “And yes, I think sticking together is a good idea.” She didn’t like the thought of being seperated from Dee and Erik - she couldn’t stand the thought of them getting hurt. Søren also seemed to be nice and if he could help them watch out - well, the more the better.

When Erik looked back at her, he seemed to be trying to calm her down with mere thought, and she gave him a tense smile. It worked, but she was still worried. Well, I’m trying, she sent back.
Then she looked around in the direction where she suspected the entrance to the mysterious ring to be. “You might be right. We might find out soon enough what this is about.” She wasn’t so sure she really wanted to know. Just to be sure, she checked if she had her wand up her sleeve. Then, she gave Dee a dry smile. “Thank you for sticking around with me in this pool of Slytherins. I can’t say I’m sad you’re here.”

Ability: Sixth Sense
Stats: Sta:5 | Ev:7 | Str:3 | Wis:7 | Arc:6 | Acc:7

Mentions: @Ileen Knight @Erik Tharaldson @Søren Silverwood @Maria Dee

Dee widened her eyes mockingly at Erik's comments and turned to Ileen. "You really weren't kidding, were you? If his ego gets any bigger than this it will be impressive that he can still walk around while carrying it." Dee sighed and shook her head mournfully, raising her hand to her forehead in a weary gesture, although there was a glint in her eye that betrayed that she was just teasing. "Making friends with evil Slytherins, Ileen? We have to talk about your standards."

Dee's smile widened as she watched the teasing back and forth between Erik and Ileen. She didn't quite know what to make of the blond Slytherin yet, but it was quite obvious that he cared about Ileen, and that was a relief to her. She knew that Ileen didn't have very many friends, and although Dee was pretty sure that that was a self-inflicted condition, it was nice to know that there was someone among the Slytherins who would have her friend's back when Dee herself couldn't.

"I know, right?" Dealla turned her eyes toward the sky with a long suffering sigh in response to Erik's quip about her name. "It's tragic! Why would you ever call your child Dealla?" She was really... only half joking. There was nothing she liked about her name, and she was completely prepared to launch into her usual spiel about about it being an old family name, on her father's side, and that being the reason why she was now condemned to suffer like this, when the thought brought back another memory. A more recent one, of a letter which was now well hidden in the trunk next to her bed in the Ravenclaw dorms. Dealla's mouth snapped shut. She cleared her throat. "Anyway," she continued, a bit thrown off her usual theatrics, and shot Søren a half-hearted glare. "Dee it is, remember that, or this face will be less friendly next time you see it," she warned, before she slipped back into a more easy-going smile.

The auction discussion easily teased a giggle from her throat, high and infectious, and she shook her head at the boys. "We'll keep your money as a backup plan," she suggested, then rolled her eyes at the alternative fighting scenario. She had to admit, though - Erik was huge. Probably almost 30 centimeters taller than Dealla was. "Obviously," the little Ravenclaw quipped back and raised her arm to flex her nonexistent biceps. "Ileen and I bring the brawn to this group, for sure. No, I agree with Ileen - I vote for making Erik the sacrificial lamb so the rest of us can run away." She grinned at him cheekily.

The following talk about sticking together and watching out for each other, however, sent a shiver down her spine. Why were they all so sure that something bad was going to happen - why did Dee have the same feeling? Sure, the numbers were more than a little strange, and so was the boy who had taken their invitations, but looking at it from the outside, there was no reason for this atmosphere. They had all received invitations, and had come here as a consequence. In its essence, there was nothing malicious about it. But still...
"Sticking together can't do any harm, at least," she agreed, nodding, then returned Ileen's smile with an encouraging one, and squeezed her hand. Despite the strangeness, the wrongness of it all, she couldn't say she regretted being here, either, but she was also just as glad to have Ileen by her side.

Dee was immediately ready to sprint off after Erik, her ambitious spirit flaring at the challenge - like she'd lose to some stupid last heir of some pure-blood line she had never heard of, and so what if his legs were a lot longer than hers? - when her gaze snagged on another girl in the crowd, who, in Dee's eyes, looked a little lost. She seemed to be the only other non-Slytherin here, and probably didn't have any of her friends around.
Distracted, Dealla stopped short, then raised her hand without thinking about it to wave at the girl. "Hey!" she called. "Do you want to sit with us? Or do whatever is going to happen in there, I suppose."

--------------- Stamina --------- 4 ------------- Evasion --------- 7 Strength 3 Wisdom 8 Arcane Power 6 Accuracy 7

--------------------------------- Abilities Evasive Maneuvers